* * *
Now it became clear to Claire that the elixirs were doing the opposite of what they once had, now the cause of her tiredness, but she did not exactly blame Minna for this, figuring instead that in her zeal for Claire’s health, she was unaware of the side effects and maybe even desiring them. Perhaps Claire was safer asleep, out of the range of Jean-Alexi and his obsessions. Nonetheless she went on a campaign to dump the drinks when the two were out of sight. Her strength built, and one morning, feeling the strongest yet, she dressed before Minna came into the bedroom.
“I’m going to visit Mrs. Girbaldi.” It came as a shock how long it had been since she had talked to her old friend, or Forster for that matter.
Minna quickly shut the bedroom door. “Not a good idea.”
“I’m tired of being shut up in here.”
“Don’t make him angry. For me.” Genuine fear was in her eyes.
Claire was so pleased that Minna was finally talking truthfully to her, acknowledging the reality of their situation, that she hardly comprehended the admission of the danger they were in. “Tell me, what’s going on?”
“I made a mistake, calling him. He wants more than he’s owed. That’s where my money went.”
So that was the explanation of the mystery. “You only assumed he’d help. All alone in this country,” Claire said, already on her way to making excuses for her. “You forgot not all people are like you.”
“Once he realizes there’s nothing more to get, he’ll leave.”
“We must get rid of him,” Claire whispered. “Police?”
The awful panic in Minna’s eyes was something Claire had never before witnessed. “Please, for me, no. They will take me to prison, too. Or send me back. Give me time. If you care anything.”
“So it was all a lie? Jean Rhys, Cambridge?”
“Would you have allowed me in any other way?”
“That’s not true.”
Of course she was right. The beautiful false life had sanctified the skin color. As if poverty and misfortune were contagious. Claire thought of fate — the one that killed Josh and brought her cancer, but also the one that insured each of her children would not be born in want. Minna more beautiful and shining than most babies, but of course that didn’t count. The world shunned those born in misfortune. The unfairness of it shamed Claire even now as she suspected she might be made victim of the victim.
* * *
Claire sat on the porch. Minna was in the kitchen, satisfied she had won Claire’s obedience. Still Claire wanted to test the boundaries of the situation. She refused to feel fear, and in fact Forster or the police were only a phone call away. Unattended, she started to walk down the driveway. Quickly, Jean-Alexi was at her side. Confirmed, the realization that it had come to a kind of velveted house arrest.
“Where we going, lady of the house?”
“To visit a friend.”
“That’s fine. But don’t you be complaining.” He touched her elbow.
“Don’t ever touch me!” She looked down and saw his dusty, cracked bare feet. Calloused feet unused to shoes, used to hardship, backbreaking labor. Feet that told of chasms of life experience between them.
“Or I call the police and tell them about our little Marie. She ever tell you about the Florida woman? Stealing from her?”
“I thought you cared about Minna.”
He laughed in her face. “Only a rich person can afford to think like that.”
* * *
That night, Minna and Claire sat alone in the empty living room, candles throwing monstrous, grasping shadows across the ceiling from the winds. “Tell me about this woman in Florida,” Claire started, interrupted by a banging on the door. They looked at each other in confusion and dread, neither of them daring to move.
“Mom! Mom, you there? Anyone home?” Lucy’s voice.
Both women scrambled to their feet; Minna raced to the door and threw it open.
“Surprise!” Lucy said, her arms full of flowers and presents. She looked more gaunt than before. Dark circles under her eyes and unwashed hair screamed relapse.
Claire’s heart buckled at the sight of her. “Why are you here?”
“I promised I’d come, didn’t I?” Lucy walked in and looked around. “Remodeling?”
“Things are complicated right now.”
Lucy put her hand on Minna’s stomach. “Oh my God, I had no idea! You both are just glowing. Mom, you look so much better.”
“Oh, baby.” Claire hugged her, then hugged her tighter. In some strange corner of her mind, the situation had remained an experiment until now. Lucy changed the rules.
Steps behind them, and Jean-Alexi was sprawled across the doorway, arms folded over his chest, head wagging. “Kisa ou ap fe isit? What do we have here?”
Lucy and Claire broke apart in their embrace. Instinctively Claire stepped in front, partially shielding Lucy from his sight.
The answer out of her mouth sticky, reluctant. “My daughter.”
“What a beauty,” he said.
“This is my cousin,” Minna said.
Lucy blushed and ducked under her mother’s arm, walking over to him. “So nice to meet you. We love Minna.”
“Oh, come closer,” he said, and swallowed her in a big, long-armed embrace that almost took her off her feet. “It’s all family here, love.”
* * *
Despite Claire’s misgivings, the next few days went by in an almost celebratory atmosphere. Now Jean-Alexi abandoned the barn and his cell phone and spent time in the house. They ate meals together, island music playing, and he flirted shamelessly with Lucy. Claire saw another side of him, the raconteur, spinning one charming story of their life in the islands after another. Was it possible that she had overreacted? That the solitude and her sickness and the drugs had deluded her mind? Or was he cunning enough to insure his safety by attaching himself to what she loved most in the world?
* * *
“So were you at Cambridge also?” Lucy asked.
Jean-Alexi closed his eyes to slits, staring into the candlelight, chewing thoughtfully. “No. My part of the family wasn’t the fancy one.”
“What is the name of your village again?” Lucy asked.
“Jérémie,” Jean-Alexi said.
“Isn’t that in Haiti? Not Dominica,” Claire said.
Minna said nothing, simply got up and cleared the table. The reproach clear. What was Claire trying to prove? If she caught him out lying, would she throw Minna into the street? Would she call the police? What, exactly, did Claire want? Did she want to be begged? Did she want to be the all-merciful Claire? Did she want to be the savior, to be responsible for another human being’s fate besides her own? Or was it simply hurt pride that Minna did not believe in her enough to tell her the truth?
“What you got to understand is that we’ve got family scattered all along the islands.”
“Tell me about you two as children,” Lucy demanded.
“All the women were in love with Jean-Alexi,” Minna said. “That time on the beach…?”
Jean-Alexi threw his head back in a howling laugh. “This is a story you must hear. This is my little Maleva.”
As they both took turns telling the story of the coins and the boys and Minna’s death order, they all laughed. Claire watched, mesmerized, as yet another Minna emerged than the ones she thought she knew or had imagined.
“The taffy,” Minna said, chuckling, dabbing tears from laughing so hard. “Remember that dried bit of taffy you gave me? I didn’t realize you had stolen my coins.”
“Those were your dues for protection, little sister.”
Claire was lulled against her doubt of the nature of the relationship between the two. Still, at other moments, she had an urge to pick up the phone and call the police. For what? He was a powder keg that might go off at any minute. She wanted him gone, but she was afraid for Minna’s sake. Now Lucy was involved. How to warn her away without frightening her and stirring Jean-Alexi’s wrath?