Chapter 6
The Ride Home
“Where are we going?”
Cornelia realized that this was the fourth time that day that she had asked that question, but this time she asked with timidity rather than with boldness. Janvon answered as he slid the van door open.
“We are stopping to look at Rose Hall Great House. Just the outside, maybe Mr. Koeman will take the tour another time.”
Worriedly, Cornelia looked at the clock in the van before she stepped out. It was saying 3:3Op.m. The nursemaid should be relieved in another hour and a half. She stood beside the van and watched as Mr. Koeman declaim the strength of the building’s structure to Uncle Roger. Cornelia had heard about Rose Hall many, many, times before but never really thought that she would visit it. Now that she was here she did not notice the majesty of the building commanding the hill that it sat on, nor the pleasant aspect of the lowlands sweeping gently down to the sea.
“Isn’t this place supposed to be haunted, Janvon?” said the American girl hanging on to his arm.
He answered her, “Yes, by the wicked slave owner, Annie Palmer.”
At that moment, Cornelia was seeing the spectre of a woman, not the ghost that the house was so famous for, but an image of her Aunt as she sat in her front room and watched Cornelia arrive home, late, and dusted with sand. Cornelia shivered in the hot, late afternoon sunshine.
“Come up here, darlin’,” Mr. Koeman called to his daughter, and she got up from where she was sitting on the grass beside Janvon to join her father on the steps. At the moment, the little group was the only people there although there were several vehicles in the parking lot. Cornelia supposed that the occupants were on a tour inside of the house. Feeling the need for some comfort, Cornelia, moved over to where Janvon remained sitting by himself when the silvery voice of the girl came over in the clear air.
“Jann-von, come take a picture with me.”
Perched on the stone steps, the girl was smiling invitingly down at Janvon and beckoned insistently. She must have only recently arrived as her very pale skin was now a rougeish red that threatened to burn and strip. Her hair was light brown and pulled back in a careless ponytail. Unlike Cornelia, who was dressed in a long jeans skirt, and shirt blouse, she wore a cute summer dress that was cut way above her knees. He waved back and got up to join her, leaving Cornelia alone again.
She watched as Janvon sat beside the girl -what was her name again? - who
immediately leaned on him, her hair mingling with his and smiling so widely that the sun glinted off her train track set of braces.
“How nuff”, Cornelia thought, surprised at the resentment that was welling up inside of
her chest. If Marissa were there, they would both look at What’s Her Name and say that she had no shame, drooling so publicly over a guy that she had just met.
“Besides”, Cornelia fumed to herself, “Janvon was MY friend first”, and as she thought again about Aunt Josie added, “I need him now”.
After a twenty-minute visit, they finally continued to Montego Bay and stopped to drop off the Koemans at their hotel. Then just before six o’ clock they pulled up in front of Aunt Josie’s house. There was a woman waiting impatiently in the living room, but Cornelia was relieved to see that it was Kaarina Kaye who should have been relieved at 5:00p.m.
Even as she picked-up her bag and walked out in a huff, Cornelia apologized to the woman, relieved that she had not called her aunt at work and promised to make it up to her. She did not have time to say a proper goodbye to Janvon, as his uncle had already turned the vehicle and was going down the road.
After stashing her new purchases, including her wet swimsuit, in the tote bag and pushing them under the bed, Cornelia scrubbed herself in a quick shower that including washing out her hair. In record time she was out and was combing out her damp hair, Isaiah on her lap when Aunt Josie arrived. “Was my boy good today?” she asked, picking up the toddler.
Cornelia’s thoughts immediately flashed on Janvon.
“Oh Aunt Josie, he was very, good.”
The Ride Home
“Where are we going?”
Cornelia realized that this was the fourth time that day that she had asked that question, but this time she asked with timidity rather than with boldness. Janvon answered as he slid the van door open.
“We are stopping to look at Rose Hall Great House. Just the outside, maybe Mr. Koeman will take the tour another time.”
Worriedly, Cornelia looked at the clock in the van before she stepped out. It was saying 3:3Op.m. The nursemaid should be relieved in another hour and a half. She stood beside the van and watched as Mr. Koeman declaim the strength of the building’s structure to Uncle Roger. Cornelia had heard about Rose Hall many, many, times before but never really thought that she would visit it. Now that she was here she did not notice the majesty of the building commanding the hill that it sat on, nor the pleasant aspect of the lowlands sweeping gently down to the sea.
“Isn’t this place supposed to be haunted, Janvon?” said the American girl hanging on to his arm.
He answered her, “Yes, by the wicked slave owner, Annie Palmer.”
At that moment, Cornelia was seeing the spectre of a woman, not the ghost that the house was so famous for, but an image of her Aunt as she sat in her front room and watched Cornelia arrive home, late, and dusted with sand. Cornelia shivered in the hot, late afternoon sunshine.
“Come up here, darlin’,” Mr. Koeman called to his daughter, and she got up from where she was sitting on the grass beside Janvon to join her father on the steps. At the moment, the little group was the only people there although there were several vehicles in the parking lot. Cornelia supposed that the occupants were on a tour inside of the house. Feeling the need for some comfort, Cornelia, moved over to where Janvon remained sitting by himself when the silvery voice of the girl came over in the clear air.
“Jann-von, come take a picture with me.”
Perched on the stone steps, the girl was smiling invitingly down at Janvon and beckoned insistently. She must have only recently arrived as her very pale skin was now a rougeish red that threatened to burn and strip. Her hair was light brown and pulled back in a careless ponytail. Unlike Cornelia, who was dressed in a long jeans skirt, and shirt blouse, she wore a cute summer dress that was cut way above her knees. He waved back and got up to join her, leaving Cornelia alone again.
She watched as Janvon sat beside the girl -what was her name again? - who
immediately leaned on him, her hair mingling with his and smiling so widely that the sun glinted off her train track set of braces.
“How nuff”, Cornelia thought, surprised at the resentment that was welling up inside of
her chest. If Marissa were there, they would both look at What’s Her Name and say that she had no shame, drooling so publicly over a guy that she had just met.
“Besides”, Cornelia fumed to herself, “Janvon was MY friend first”, and as she thought again about Aunt Josie added, “I need him now”.
After a twenty-minute visit, they finally continued to Montego Bay and stopped to drop off the Koemans at their hotel. Then just before six o’ clock they pulled up in front of Aunt Josie’s house. There was a woman waiting impatiently in the living room, but Cornelia was relieved to see that it was Kaarina Kaye who should have been relieved at 5:00p.m.
Even as she picked-up her bag and walked out in a huff, Cornelia apologized to the woman, relieved that she had not called her aunt at work and promised to make it up to her. She did not have time to say a proper goodbye to Janvon, as his uncle had already turned the vehicle and was going down the road.
After stashing her new purchases, including her wet swimsuit, in the tote bag and pushing them under the bed, Cornelia scrubbed herself in a quick shower that including washing out her hair. In record time she was out and was combing out her damp hair, Isaiah on her lap when Aunt Josie arrived. “Was my boy good today?” she asked, picking up the toddler.
Cornelia’s thoughts immediately flashed on Janvon.
“Oh Aunt Josie, he was very, good.”