The Jumbee (22 page)

“Huh.” Rafe looked at her suspiciously. “Is that why
he
left you? I thought you never—”

“I never,” she said dryly.

“So, why . . . ?”

“Why am I throwing myself at you?” She dug her fingers into the sand, letting the grains spill out between her fingers. “I’m trying to be careful, but maybe that doesn’t mean what Marielle thinks it means. I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

Rafe scowled. “Because I’m a jerk.”

“No, you’re not,” Esti said. “But that’s the thing. I don’t want you to be honorable right now.”

He shook his head, baffled. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.” Esti lifted a handful of sand into the air. Would it be possible to actually
keep
Rafe Solomon in her life? “Look, Rafe. You’re cute. Your dad is rich and famous. You know how to kiss.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I’m predictable and needy, and good for one thing.”

As his expression turned stony, she gave him a rueful smile.

“And maybe you want the truth.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Truth.”

“The truth is, I trust you.” A gust of whispery wind blew her disheveled hair into her face. “You’re my friend. You let me be myself, and you don’t freak out when I occasionally lose my mind. When I’m with you”—she closed her fingers around the sand—“I know I won’t drown.”

He slowly shook his head. “You’re knocking my feet out from under me again.”

“You do happen to be gorgeous, which is a bonus,” Esti said softly. “And your kiss is killer. The problem is, I am completely messed up right now.”

“You’re irresistible right now.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to fall in love with you because I’m afraid of hurting you. But part of me wants you to hurt me first, so I can blame being messed up on you.” Anger flared through her as she realized her words to Rafe seemed eerily like Alan’s words to her. “That’s a dumb way to go through life, isn’t it?”

“Dumb as a doornail.” Rafe’s arms went around her, strong and solid as he pulled her close.

As seawater soaked through her dress, she leaned into him.

“I’m tough,” he said. “You’re not going to hurt me, and I’ll make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“I’ll stop worrying, then.” She nuzzled into him, pressing her ear against his chest to hear his heartbeat. “I
am
falling, even though I told myself I wouldn’t.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

“I got a real chance then, long as I don’t blow it.”

She felt his fingers on her skin again, deliciously following the outline of her face.

“I’ll work on my honor,” he said, “even if it kills me. Nothing more than this; not yet.” He traced his lips along her hairline, breathing in the scent of her hair. “And speaking of that killer kiss . . .”

As Esti eagerly tipped her face up to meet his, she became aware of Alan’s necklace against her throat. Unexpected grief broke into her bliss, followed by a rush of anger that she still even cared. How dare Alan intrude right now? Hoping Rafe wouldn’t notice, she unfastened the clasp with one hand. She held the chain in her fist for a single, aching moment, then flung it into the sea grape trees behind them.

It wasn’t hard to lose herself in the blissful touch of Rafe’s lips. She could forget about theater for a while, forget the necklace and the entire fantasy named Alan. And when she went to Carnival next weekend, maybe Ma Harris really would find some magical spell to banish him from Esti’s thoughts. Esti didn’t know if she would ever impress the talent scouts again, but she did know one thing. Her days of being cold and frightened were over.

Act Two. Scene Seven.

“It’s so loud, I can hear it from here.”

“Wear earplugs, then,” Rafe countered Aurora’s complaint. “I guarantee it’s gonna be too much for your tender Continental ears. Some of the bands have been going nonstop since they got here last weekend.”

“I know,” Aurora said. “I haven’t slept in two days. You’d think the rain would slow them down.”

From the safety of her bedroom, Esti made herself smile. Carnival held no appeal for her today, not after the tangled logic that now amounted to her own private jumbee hunt. Esti could not make herself believe that any type of silly dancing might have some effect on Alan’s existence, but she knew that the disturbing gestures on the street might be the tip of a more threatening iceberg. If she watched the moko jumbees today, maybe the locals would think she was cured.

Looking one last time in the mirror, she smoothed the purple sundress against her skin, then walked into the living room.

“Ooh, baby!”

She laughed as Rafe leaped from the couch. He’d been very funny and sweet since Christmas night, making sure that everyone on the island knew that Rafe Solomon had finally been caught. Esti didn’t have to pretend she enjoyed herself with him, and she instantly melted whenever Rafe kissed her at The Boardwalk or on the beach, or in the deep water of Manchicay Bay.

But yesterday evening her mom had asked if she knew whether Mr. Niles was doing Shakespeare again next semester. Esti had jolted upright in the middle of the night, Alan’s voice filling her with longing before she came fully awake.
Desperately, hopelessly in love . . .

Fiercely shoving the memory down, Esti flung her arms around Rafe’s neck. She pressed herself against him as his warm lips touched hers, but he immediately pulled away to smile at Aurora.

“I’m glad to see your manners,” Aurora said. “I’ve been a little worried by the gossip, but Esti assures me that you’re good for her.”

“The safest guy on Cariba,” Esti said firmly, ignoring Rafe’s smirk.

“Her father always liked you, Rafe.” Aurora chuckled. “Your dads both joked about the two of you getting together someday, although Jayna said it wouldn’t be easy.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
”

Esti’s eyes widened. She hadn’t heard a Shakespeare quote from her mom since the diagnosis.

“For true,” Rafe said. “Esti isn’t easy.”

“But Rafe sure is smooth,” Esti countered automatically.

When Rafe winked, Aurora burst into laughter. “Sweetie, do you happen to have any earplugs?”

Esti was happily surprised by her mom’s lighthearted mood. Aurora seemed more relaxed today than she’d been in months. Maybe it had something to do with Rafe’s charm, or the fact that he was an old friend. Or maybe, Esti thought guiltily, it was because this was the first time she had really invited Aurora to come with her on a social outing.

By the time they walked downtown, Esti wondered if she should have brought something for her own ears. Dozens of semi trucks had arrived on the island, pulling huge flatbed trailers piled with giant speakers and live bands.

Deafening soca filled the air with incessant percussion threaded through lyrical songs of political satire and sexual double entendre. Reggae and calypso poured from the other trucks, each group trying to drown out the others with lilting refrains of love and lust. Costumed dancers followed every trailer, wearing masks and feathers, and giant colorful wings of wire and gauze.

Some of the dancers walked on stilts high above the crowds, moving with as much vigor and grace as everyone on the ground. Esti thought their shimmering costumes looked particularly bright against the cloudy morning sky. These moko jumbees danced between heaven and earth on their stilts, Rafe had explained, protecting the crowds from evil spirits. Although they looked impressive, Esti seriously doubted that a costumed stilt walker could ever scare a real ghost.

With a shiver, she forced herself to ignore the moko jumbees. She just wanted to go home. Alan would never show up at a giant public gathering like this, even if he
was
some kind of jumbee. Esti knew him too well to believe she could possibly summon him in full daylight.

Rafe held her hand, waving at Aurora to get her attention. “Follow me,” he shouted.

Esti barely heard him over the noise, but she grabbed Aurora with her other hand when Rafe began pulling her through the crowds. As he led them down a side street, she turned away from a woman crossing her fingers in a hostile gesture, almost tripping over a masked dancer dressed in black. The dancer ducked his head, his pale eyes brushing uncomfortably past hers. The black-garbed dancer was followed by a colorful stilt walker, who laughingly maneuvered his stilts over them all.

Black-wrapped dancers seemed to be everywhere, and Rafe shouted that these were the local jumbee dancers, inspired by the real black-clothed jumbee that haunted Manchineel Cay. “They only perform during Cariba’s parade, dancing between the stilts of the moko jumbees,” he yelled over the music. “People come from all over, especially to see them.”

The parade had already wound partway through town, and music from the giant pounding speakers vibrated through Esti’s body each time they passed a truck. She began wondering if she would ever hear properly again. The volume level hadn’t gotten any better by the time they ended up by the harbor. As they got closer to the picnic tables, Esti saw Carmen and Chaz at a table with Ma Harris and Rafe’s parents.

With a grin, Rodney held up a daiquiri for Aurora. “Rum is on special this week!” he shouted. “Help yourself.”

Lucia and her boyfriend danced at the edge of the parade nearby, Lucia tucking a stray dreadlock beneath Quintin’s bandanna with a deliberate, teasing look.

“Did you see Steve?” Carmen shouted into Esti’s ear. “I thought he’d left the island when he got kicked out of school, but I just saw him with one of the bands. He looked high as a kite.”

Esti couldn’t help a growing sense of unease as she looked around. She had no desire to see Steve, and she’d never experienced anything like the strange, uninhibited energy surrounding her. The occasional burst of rain wasn’t stopping anyone.

Perhaps Ma Harris was right. Maybe ghosts
did
appear at times like this, safely hidden in the throngs of costumed revelers. When several more jumbee dancers ran past them, Rafe pulled Esti behind him again.

“Let’s walk around,” he shouted into her ear.

The pulsating music was impossible to resist, and Esti felt herself moving in rhythm to it as she followed Rafe along the street. Everywhere she looked, she saw shaking hips and strutting feet and dark arms waving in the air. She watched a procession of solemn little West Indian girls dressed in matching silver leotards and twirling batons in perfect time. Although several small faces anxiously studied Esti and Rafe as they marched past, their batons didn’t miss a beat.

Another black-masked dancer walked by them, blue eyes staring at Esti slightly too long. Esti watched him walk away, wondering if he would make a sign warding off evil now that he had recognized her. Rafe wasn’t shy about returning the suspicious looks from all sides, and Esti was grateful for his protective arms, his strong body moving in perfect rhythm beside her.

“You de one talk to jumbee dem?”

A West Indian man stopped so close in front of her that she smelled the rum on his breath. Another man stood beside him, holding a beer. They both grinned as Rafe pulled her away from them.

“What you want, mon?” Rafe glared at the man with the beer.

“We hear dis white gyal does talk to a jumbee.” The man with rum on his breath gave Esti a look that made her skin crawl.

“Leave she be,” Rafe said.

“She limin’ wit Rafe Solomon,” the man drawled. “Sweet ting like fun-fun, eh?”

Rafe stiffened and edged toward the man. Esti’s heart began to pound. She grabbed Rafe’s shirt, pulling him to a stop.

“You go drink you rum,” Rafe said tightly. “An’ I don’t teach you a lesson today.”

The man shrugged and turned. As the other man walked by, however, he reached out to touch Esti’s face. “Jumbee gyal,” he cooed. “I show you some nice spirit, if you come wit’—”

Rafe slammed the man’s hand down, shoving him back so hard he stumbled against the people behind him. Shrieks and cursing rose above the blasting music as the man straightened. The crowd around him began muttering, several hands flashing into the air as they caught sight of Esti. Her heart sinking, she desperately yanked on Rafe’s shirt again to stop him, then stifled a scream as the drunk West Indian lunged at her.

A jumbee dancer darted between them, his foot gracefully snaking out to trip the man before he could reach Esti. As the drunk man fell, Rafe leaped furiously at him. The dancer grabbed Rafe, safely spinning him out of the way before he could start a fight. Esti caught sight of blue eyes again as the dancer glanced at her. Suddenly a policeman appeared, glaring at the restless crowd.

“You causin’ trouble, Rafe?” he demanded

“Dey have harass my girl!” Rafe exploded. The rum-breath man lurched to his feet, fleeing into the crowd with his friend. Esti felt her skin crawl as she realized the blue-eyed dancer had disappeared into the shifting horde of jumbee dancers.

“She mind she own business,” Rafe raged, “and I don’t let no one—”

“Keep you cool, Rafe.” The cop patted a nightstick attached to his belt, glancing at Esti. “You might see the inside of my police van today. I ain’t forget about last summer.”

Esti pulled Rafe close as he looked around for the two men. She couldn’t imagine what might happen if the police dragged Rafe away, leaving her alone here. The officer watched them without speaking, and Rafe finally looked back at him.

“You keep de badjohn away from my girl,” he said stiffly, “and I’s cool. Just do you job, mon.”

Esti felt the cop’s eyes on them as Rafe sauntered away, dragging her along behind him. She couldn’t help a shaky feeling that she had narrowly escaped disaster. If the jumbee dancer hadn’t tripped the drunk man; if he hadn’t stopped Rafe from getting into a big fight . . . She suddenly knew the dancer had been following her since she got here. Fragments of hope and fear began darting through her mind.