Chapter 11

Someone in the distance was sobbing. At first Jean thought it was part of a dream but the wailing grew louder and louder. Then it sounded less like the cries of a wild animal. Jean wasn’t the only person in the woods.

The person sobbing was obviously in some sort of horrible trouble. But what could Jean do? Besides, it might be a trick played by someone looking for Jean and wanting to force her out of hiding. Although how they could find Jean here in the middle of the forest when Jean herself didn’t know where she was, was certainly a mystery.

The crying continued.

It won’t hurt to investigate, Jean thought.

She rose and, holding on to the tree trucks, followed the sounds of the sobs. She almost tripped over the little girl, crouching under a bush.

Jean bent down and the child shrieked in horror. I must look like a bogy woman, Jean thought, no wonder she’s frightened. “I’m trying to help you,” Jean said. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

The girl jumped up. “Go away!” she stepped back, almost stumbling over a large rock.

Jean thought the little girl must have been about five or six and, even in the moonlight, Jean could tell she was dressed quite well. The fabric of her tee shirt was expensive cotton and her pants, although sopping wet, were clean. The girl actually had sandals on her feet and her hair was neatly braided, decorated with little colored barrettes.

Jean knew that this wasn’t just any abandoned child. This was a rich girl.

“Are you lost?” Jean asked.

“I want my mommy.”

“Does your Mommy know where you are?”

The girl shook her head. “I came into the woods with my brother and we were playing hide and seek except he never found me and now it’s dark and it rained and I wanna go home!” she shrieked.

You’re lucky you have a home to go to, Jean thought. “Where do you live?”

The girl didn’t know.

“What’s your name?”

“Marie.”

“Okay, Marie. I’m going to take you home.”

“Do you know where I live?”

Jean admitted that she didn’t. “But I’m going to find out.” Jean took Marie’s hand, which was soft and smooth and together they began to walk through the woods. The darkness and her injured foot made it impossible to pick up any speed. But that was all right, because Marie was taking small steps herself and at least it had stopped raining. After a few minutes, Marie stopped abruptly.

“Can you carry me?” she asked Jean.

“I’m sorry,” Jean said. “I have a real sore foot. But I’ll go slowly.”

And they went slowly but found no clearing. “We’re lost, aren’t we?” Marie questioned in an accusatory tone.

“Yes, we’re lost. Maybe we should just sit down and wait until it’s light out.”

Marie began to wail again. “I don’t want to be in the woods at night.”

“But if we keep walking,” Jean said, “we’re only going to get more and more lost.”

Marie didn’t want to listen to reason. She just kept on crying. In between her sobs, Jean heard voices.

“Be quiet,” she told Marie. “Someone is coming.”

“My mommy!” the girl screamed.

“I don’t know,” Jean answered impatiently. “Maybe it’s someone who is not so friendly.”

Obviously Marie didn’t know anything about unfriendly people because she began to holler at the top of her little lungs. Except for putting her hand over her mouth, Jean didn’t know how she could possibly keep Marie quiet. All Jean could do was pray that the voices belonged to someone looking for the little girl. Someone who would view Jean as a hero instead of a thief or a witch child.

And then the little girl yelled something which froze Jean’s blood. “Help me! Someone help me!”

Wasn’t Jean helping her?

This latest outburst brought a flurry of footsteps and a bevy of flashlights. Jean strained her eyes to see several young men, heading in their direction.

“Daddy!” the little girl flew into one of the man’s arms. “You found me.”

“Who are you?” he asked Jean, his eyes sweeping over her.

Luckily, Marie spoke right up. “She found me and she tried to bring me home but we got lost because she didn’t know where she was going but that wasn’t really her fault because she tried and she said she’d bring me back to Mommy—”

“Okay, okay,” the man said and then he screamed in a bellowing voice, “We got her, she’s fine.”

Jean stepped on the sidelines as a young pretty woman ran towards Marie, lifted her in the air and hugged her. She never once looked in Jean’s direction.

But the man was still staring at her. “Where are you from?”

“I’m heading for Stonage.” Jean decided to evade the question.

“That’s thirteen kilometers away,” the man said. “How are you planning to get there?”

“I was going to walk.” Jean looked down at her foot and the man’s eyes traveled with her. “I stepped on glass so it’s a little sore—”

“Why are you running away?”

“My mother is dead,” Jean said, “so is my aunt. I want to find my uncle.” Jean noticed that Marie and her mother had slipped away, but the man was sandwiched by two other men who were blatantly studying her. She looked down at her wet, ripped tee shirt and her stained shorts and wished that the clothes weren’t clinging so tightly, outlining every curve of her body.

“You can’t go anyplace right now,” the man said. “Why don’t you come home and spend the night with us? Tomorrow I’ll see about getting you a ride to Stonage. By the way, my name is Matthew. And you’re?”

“Jean.” Better not to reveal her last name. It seemed too good to be true. Someone was helping her. Someone would be giving her a ride. Tomorrow at this time she might be at the refuge.

God had answered her prayers.

“Thank you, sir.”

And then Jean followed the man out of the woods, her heart soaring with hope.

When Jean saw where Matthew lived, she could not believe her luck. It was an actual mansion, a brick house with a long driveway and pink potted plants on the wrap around porch.

“Come in,” Matthew said, “It’s after midnight. You must be tired.”

Jean stepped in the house and onto a marble floor, embarrassed at how filthy she was. She was afraid to walk into the hall with the sweeping white staircase. A tall woman appeared from a door on the right and glared at Jean, as though Jean were one of the fleas on the plastic sheeting in Pastor Francis’ prison.

“This girl,” Matthew turned toward Jean, “Jean, she found my daughter. Where is Marie, by the way?”

“Your wife is putting her to bed.” The maid, who was wearing a crisp black uniform, stared at Jean with such hate that Jean was sure that somehow she guessed that Jean had been accused of sorcery.

Or maybe the maid herself was a witch.

“Jean is spending the night with us. Would you please prepare a bed for her and dig up one of Cecil’s old nightgowns?”

“Certainly sir.” The woman smiled at Matthew and then scowled at Jean.

“Jean, you can come with me.” Matthew walked up the stairs and Jean quickly followed. She didn’t want the maid to hear her questions.

“Please sir,” she limped after him, whispering. “I’m very hungry and thirsty too. Do you think I could have some water and just a small bite to eat?”

Matthew studied her for a few seconds and then said, “I don’t know who you are or what you’ve been up to, and I don’t care. You helped my daughter and that’s enough. I’ll send the maid up with a sandwich and some milk. Will that do?”

Jean would have preferred a big jug of water and some rice and meat. But she certainly couldn’t complain. “Thank you, sir.”

They reached the second floor and Jean glimpsed a long, wide hall with closed doors on both sides. “If you wait here,” he indicated a bench with a nice white cushion, “Pauline will be up with a clean nightgown and some food.”

Jean nodded. God, she was tired. She sank down on the soft pillow beside a copy of a newspaper. She picked it and started to read the music section but her reading skills weren’t so good and she was so tired. She put the newspaper down and thought about how she could find the rocks. It really didn’t matter. Once she got to Stonage she could tell Sister Mary Jude all about it. The room started to spin and she felt her eyes closing.

Something hit her squarely in the face.

She woke up with a jolt.

“Here’s your nightgown.” Pauline threw something white at her. “Your room is the last room on the left. Mr. Matthew told me to put some clean linen on the bed.” Pauline frowned. “Not that someone like you would know the difference.”

“I’m supposed to get some food,” Jean said meekly.

Pauline didn’t answer. Instead she was staring at Jean’s foot. “That’s a sign of the devil,” she finally said.

“I stepped on some glass,” Jean said.

Pauline stood in front of Jean defiant. “I know who you are,” Pauline said. “Just because you fooled the others doesn’t mean that I’m not smart. I know—”

“Pauline!” Matthew suddenly stormed out of one of the doors “Do as I told you and bring some supper to this girl. She’s a guest in my house.”

Pauline lowered her eyes and muttered something.

And all the while, Jean was thinking that she’d give anything to replace Pauline. To live in a house this grand, even as a servant, would be a dream come true. She’d take good care of the family and be faithful and obedient—

“You can get undressed in the guest room,” Matthew said when Pauline marched down the back staircase. “I know Pauline isn’t the best worker and just between you and me,” he bent over and whispered in her ear, “I’d like to get rid of her but her father has been my chauffeur for many years and, out of respect for him, I keep her on.”

Jean nodded and followed Matthew down the hall. When he opened the door, Jean was dazzled. The room was beautiful, done in soft shades of green and white. The bed had a thick mattress and a fan blew a breeze through the room. There was a net around the bed, just in case a lone mosquito found its way in. The furniture was dark, striking against the white spread and the ivory wallpaper. Somewhere in the background a radio was playing religious music. Jean felt as though she were in heaven.

“I hope this is satisfactory,” Matthew said.

Jean nodded. “Thank you so much, sir.”

After he left, Jean undressed quickly, wishing that she could throw her filthy shorts and tee shirt away, wishing she could ask for some clean clothes and fresh underwear. But it didn’t really matter. She was sure that Sister Mary Jude would give her something different to wear once she reached the refuge.

She took off her sneakers and noticed that the bandage over her cut was brown and yellow. And the redness seemed to be climbing up her leg. She wondered what it meant.

She was leaning against the soft, white pillows and sinking into the feathered mattress when Pauline burst into the room, carrying a tray. “Here,” she practically shoved the food at Jean. “Just leave it when you’re done. I’ll come for it in the morning. After you’ve gone.”

Jean nodded. Not even Pauline’s sullen behavior could spoil her mood. Not when she saw not only a large glass of milk but a pitcher of ice water flavored with lemon. There was some sort of bread with a fish filling, beans, white rice, plantain, cowpeas and slices of a coconut and banana. And even a small wrapped chocolate.

Pauline threw something else at her. “Here are some clean bandages for your foot. Don’t think I’m being nice or anything. I just don’t want you to go getting the sheets all infected. That only means more work for me.”

“Thank you,” Jean mumbled.

“Don’t thank me,” Pauline scowled. “If it were up to me, I’d throw you out in the woods where you belong.” She slammed the door.

I wonder if Pauline has any idea of how lucky she is, Jean thought as she wolfed down the food. She saved a little water for the morning although she was hoping that someone would feed her breakfast before she was on her way.

She changed her bandage, wincing at the sight of her wound. It had turned colors, a bright yellow and was oozing blood and pus.

Jean did not think this was a good sign.

When she finally finished, before she put her head on the pillow, she said her prayers.

She thanked God for her good fortune and prayed that He would protect her as she found her way to the refuge in the morning.

She prayed that her nightmare was over.

And then she fell into a sound sleep.