The Jumbies (4 page)

9

Watching

T
he jumbie hid in the bushes as the children crossed her path. She watched each of them, especially her sister's child.

“Last one in's made of lizard guts!” the taller boy said.

The smallest boy held his nose and pointed to his feet. The others squealed, “No, stinky feet!” and ran down to the river. But it was the small, quiet boy who flipped from a rock into the river before the rest of them. Her sister's child had hesitated before she joined the others, and the jumbie watched them tease her for it.

The jumbie listened to the sound of their laughter and the sound of the water lapping against their skin. She watched them dive under the water and then come back up for air, gasping if they had stayed too long beneath the surface. She understood her sister's fascination with people: their brown skin and dark eyes, even the clumsy way they moved.

The little girl and her father were more graceful than most. The jumbie had found their house earlier and watched them go about their morning. The man was especially graceful when he was on the water. His muscles rippled beneath his sun-darkened skin as smoothly as rolling waves. He was certainly interesting. She would take care to observe the man and child up close, to understand how they had lured her sister away from her own kind. She wanted to understand this before she decided what to do with them.

The children floating on the water reminded her of the men who had come to the island long ago on large wooden islands they called ships. The ships had bright cloth that billowed above them like stiff clouds. It was marvelous the way they moved. She remembered how she swam out to greet the sailors but gasped when she realized it was trees they had cut down to create their ships. The sailors had attacked her as she climbed up the hull. When she fought back and pulled the men under the waves, they gulped the water, sending up smaller and smaller bubbles of air, until their bodies went as limp as weeds.

The children are just like those men,
she thought,
perhaps even more fragile.

The jumbie crouched lower. A small red lizard scurried out from the grass. She caught it in her fingers and shoved it into her mouth. As she watched, other lizards passed by. She picked them, one by one, and had them for snacks. She drew on their energy and gathered enough strength to change. Her skin took on the mossy green color of the tree trunks around her. Except for the green cloth that was wrapped around her body, she was now nearly indistinguishable from her surroundings. Transparent. She tugged at the cloth and let it slip to the ground and hid it under a rock. Then she crawled to the edge of the river. As she went, her skin took on the color of everything she passed: dirt, stone, tree, grass. She was like a ripple of water moving closer to her target. She sat on a stone in the muddy shore, completely invisible to the children. She would be able to observe them up close. Then she saw the witch on the far shore. As silent as a breath, the jumbie slipped into the water. She took her time diving deep, then swam beneath the playing children and stood on the riverbed beneath their kicking feet.

The jumbie planned her attack.
Who should I take down first?
Their legs paddled above her head. She decided on the biggest one. The boy. She pushed off from the bottom and glided upward. Her fingers reached toward his toes.

10

In the River

D
id you feel that?” Bouki asked. He looked around at a frothy ripple that had sprung up by his elbow. “I felt something.”

“Your own shadow pulling your leg?” Corinne asked with a laugh.

“Look, my fingers are turning wrinkly,” Dru said.

“If you stay in the water long enough, your whole body turns wrinkly like that,” Corinne said. “You'll look like the white witch.”

“Didn't anyone feel that?” Bouki asked again.

“Feel what?” Corinne asked.

Bouki swam around in a circle and peered at his legs waving frantically in the water. “Something touched my feet.”

“Don't tell me you're afraid of a little fish,” Corinne said. She looked over at Dru, who giggled, but started to look more cautiously at the water.

“That was no little fish,” Bouki said. “It would have to be very big.”

Dru stiffened. “How big?”

“Big enough to pull my foot.”

“Fish can't pull,” Corinne said.

Dru looked at the clear water around her and thought she saw something moving beneath them. “We should get out of the water,” she said. “It's getting late and I have to get back home.”

“It's nothing, Dru,” Corinne said.

“You think everything is nothing,” Dru replied.

“There it is again!”

“Stop screaming, Bouki!” Dru cried.

“You're screaming too!”

As the others thrashed around, only Corinne and Malik remained calm. They rolled their eyes at the other two, and Corinne splashed water at Malik, which left sparkling drops of water at the end of his curls. But then Corinne felt something herself. And she was sure, just as Bouki had been, that it was no fish.

“Hush, both of you. Let's just swim to another part of the river.” Corinne turned to swim off, and as she did, she felt something brush against her leg again. She stopped midstroke and looked around.

“What is it?” Dru asked. “Did you feel something?”

Corinne nodded. “Maybe he was right.” The girls gulped air and swam straight to shore.

11

Balance

T
he old witch had heard the children splashing in the river and looked out at them. She caught the eye of the jumbie just as she turned herself invisible and moved toward the water.
“Chut!”
the witch whispered to herself. She did not like to get involved. But when the bigger boy started looking around as if something had touched him, the witch dove into the water at once. The color faded from her body as if it had been washed away by the river. In seconds, the witch was as transparent as the jumbie herself. And she reached the jumbie faster than any river fish could swim.

The witch rammed into the jumbie through the children's feet and pulled her fast and hard back down to the riverbed. She held the jumbie there, pushing her into the sand. The jumbie managed to get her feet under the white witch and pushed up as hard as she could. The witch lost her grip and the woman swam up toward the children again.

The witch could only make out the outline of the jumbie's body as she cut through the water, but it was enough for her to follow. And now the witch was furious. She knocked the jumbie away from the children. The jumbie turned and dug her bony fingers into the witch's flesh. She bore down hard. The witch raised her right arm and struck mightily at the jumbie's chest. At the same time, she felt a sharp pain as her other arm snapped in two.

Both the witch and the jumbie floated away from each other as the children made their way back to shore. The witch had saved the children. But immediately, she realized what saving them meant.

…

From shore, Corinne, Dru, Bouki, and Malik watched the water in the middle of the river churn. When it stopped suddenly, and the last ripple broke on the bank, they waited in silence for something else to happen, but nothing did.

“I want to go home,” Dru said.

“Wait,” Corinne said. Her teeth chattered either from cold or fear. But the rest of her body didn't move.

“Dru's right,” Bouki said. “Why are we waiting for whatever it is to come out?”

So they all moved away from the water, but Corinne still watched. After a few moments, the witch surfaced on the far side of the river, sputtering. Her color had returned, so the children could see her clearly. With only one good arm, she struggled to reach the shore. She looked weak and ancient.

Dru saw Corinne's muscles tighten. “No!” she cried, but it was too late. Corinne had already dived back into the river and was swimming to the witch. “She tried to kill us!” Dru shouted, but Corinne could see that the witch was hurt.

Corinne was a good swimmer, though not as strong or as fast as her papa. When she reached the old woman, she grabbed her around the waist and pulled her the rest of the way to the opposite shore. The witch winced when Corinne touched her arm. Corinne took care not to touch it as she propped the old lady against a rock to sit.

“Stupid children!” the witch said. She swatted Corinne's arm away. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I'm helping you,” Corinne snapped. “If I hadn't realized that it was a drowning person grabbing at us, we might have left and you would be dead for sure.”

“Get away from here,” the witch said through gritted teeth. Then she yelled across the river. “Go home to your mothers!”

The witch's words stung Corinne like a lash against her skin. “You nasty, old—” Corinne began. But a furious look from the witch made the rest of her words dissolve in her mouth. Instead, Corinne turned and dove back into the river just as her tears began to fall and the burning sensation in her throat caused her to gasp. She swam as quickly as she could, gulping air every few seconds, so by the time she reached the other side, her friends easily mistook her red eyes and panting breath for tiredness from the swim.

Corinne ran off with the other three behind.

…

With the children gone, the witch breathed more easily. She relaxed against the rock. On the opposite shore, the jumbie returned her body to its visible form and wrapped the green cloth around herself.

“You know what happens now,” the jumbie shouted across the river. “You helped them. Now you have to help me.” She laughed out loud. “Balance!”

The witch muttered a curse under her breath.

12

Two Houses

T
he boys retreated to their cave in the hills, so Corinne walked a frightened Dru back to her village, a small collection of wooden houses in the middle of fields of cocoa, sugarcane, and figs. It was evening now, and the farmers, covered in sweat and soil, were just returning from the fields with the satisfied look of work well done on their creased faces.

A group of people—Corinne counted seven—all with Dru's large almond-shaped eyes and thick black hair, came down the road laughing and arguing.

“You smell like dung, Arjun! Have you been playing with the cows again?” a tall girl asked.

“How do you know what I smell like, Fatima? Can you smell anything over that stink coming from your armpits?” The boy shoved the girl, and she kicked dust into his face.

“Aye, watch it!” a smaller boy shouted. “You're quarreling with him, not me.”

“Who can see you there?” the tall girl asked. “You're too small to be walking with the rest of us.”

“Yeah, Karma, why don't you go to market with Mami and the baby,” another small one said.

“I'm not a baby!” Dru said. She twirled the end of her hair in one hand and curled the other hand into a tight fist. “You're not one year older than me, Vidia.”

Vidia and the rest of Dru's siblings looked down at her and smiled. “Where'd you come from?” Karma asked. “You're done playing in the market?”

“Are you done playing in the field?” Dru shot back.

Fatima, who looked like the eldest, raised an eyebrow. “You're getting fierce. Pretty soon you won't be hanging on the back of Mami's sari anymore, eh?”

“She was with me most of the day,” Corinne said. “Not with your mami.”

“This is my friend Corinne,” Dru said. “Corinne, these are my brothers and sisters. And that's my father at the back.”

A tall, thin man wearing a homemade straw hat smiled at Corinne, then tipped his hat.

“A friend, eh?” Fatima asked. “Why are you dressed like that, Corinne?”

Arjun shoved Fatima in the arm and said, “Maybe she has those chicken legs like yours. They're easier to hide in pants.”

“They're my papa's clothes,” Corinne explained. “It's what he wears to sell. And today I was selling at the market, so . . .”

“So that getup is for business?” Fatima said with a nod of understanding. “So people won't give you any trouble, eh?”

“You think she can't handle trouble?” Arjun asked. “Look at her. She looks like she brings the trouble herself.”

Corinne grinned.

When they all got to the house, Dru's mother, Mrs. Rootsingh, came out with her hands on her hips. “What took you all so long? Dinner is almost dried up from sitting in the pot.” When she spotted Corinne, her face softened. “Are you staying for supper?”

“No, Miss, my papa will be expecting me,” Corinne said.

“At least have something to drink before you walk back,” Mrs. Rootsingh said.

The girls followed her to the back of the house and watched as the goat let out a bleat of surprise when Mrs. Rootsingh began to milk it. Corinne and Dru waited as Mrs. Rootsingh went into the kitchen and came back with two warm cups of foam-covered milk. Instead of handing them to the girls, she hesitated on the unvarnished top step. “I thought Dru only brought one friend!”

Dru and Corinne turned around. Just behind them was a small boy, no older than six.

“Oh look, it's your tail,” Arjun called out from a window. “Come to wag?”

“Stop that, Arjun. Why don't you go wash the dung off yourself,” Mrs. Rootsingh said sharply. She handed the milk to Dru and Corinne and went back to get another.

Dru handed her cup to the boy, who immediately took a sip that left a line of froth on his top lip.

The middle brother snickered. “Drink up, babies.”

“Who are you?” Corinne asked the little boy.

“I'm Allan,” he said.

“I'm Corinne,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“He lives over there,” Dru said to Corinne. She pointed to a ramshackle house across the street.

Mrs. Rootsingh returned with the third cup of milk. The three of them sipped their milk and listened to the clamor of the rest of the Rootsingh family, talking, laughing, tossing things around.

At a brief dip in the noise, Mrs. Rootsingh said, “The sky is turning dark again, Corinne. You'd better head home before you get caught in the storm.” The wind picked up suddenly, and Mrs. Rootsingh's sari flapped against the bare wood walls.

Corinne downed her milk and thanked Mrs. Rootsingh. Dru's mother took the cup and turned to go back inside. As she did, a piece of her sari caught on a nail and ripped off. Corinne pocketed the smooth piece of cloth. She froze when Allan's mouth opened as if he was about to say something. Both of their eyes flashed to Dru, who was still sipping and looking out at the goats. Corinne put her finger to her lips. Allan closed his mouth. Then Corinne darted off down the dirt road.

“Don't let the jumbies eat you!” Arjun shouted after her.

“Oh shush!” Mrs. Rootsingh snapped. “Why don't you . . .” Whatever else she said was lost to the wind.

…

As soon as Corinne lost sight of Dru's house, it began to rain again. By the time she got to her house, the sun had set, and her clothes were soaked. She stopped a moment outside her house and took out Mrs. Rootsingh's bit of sari cloth. It slipped around the tips of her fingers, smooth and soft. She went to the orange tree and said, “Mama, this is my friend's mother. You would have liked her.” She dug a hole and buried Mrs. Rootsingh's sari between the roots.

As Corinne turned toward her house, a memory came to her of walking on small, pudgy feet through her house toward the open back door. She could see the ocean through the door and hear the waves crashing outside. Seagulls dove through the air and cried. She could even hear the leaves shaking in the wind. Just before she reached the door, her mama scooped her up in her arms. Her mama's mouth moved, telling her something, but her voice was lost in the sound of the seagulls, the waves, and the wind.

Corinne blinked, and the vision of her mama was gone. She walked inside, expecting to see her father reading by lamplight. The voices she heard coming through the open kitchen door were a surprise. As she crossed the threshold, she saw her father leaning near the stove by a small pot of boiling water, laughing. Beside him was the woman in green.

“Hello,” the woman said.

“Corinne! Where have you been in all this rain? You're soaked.” Her father ran toward her with a kitchen cloth. “How did you do at market today?”

Corinne untied the pouch from around her waist and dropped it on the kitchen table with a jingly thud.

“I heard your daughter's oranges were the sweetest anyone had ever tasted. There weren't any left by the time I was ready to buy,” the woman said.

“Corinne, this is Severine,” Pierre said.

“I saw you in the market,” Corinne said. “You didn't seem to be looking for any oranges.”

Severine's eyes darted to Corinne's father and then back to Corinne. “I had some business to take care of. But I came back later and you and your lovely oranges were gone.” She smiled.

Corinne looked at her father. “You know her?”

“We met at the wharf today,” he said. “She came to buy fish, but she didn't get there early enough. Then when the rain started to pour down, I invited her to stay here until it was over.”

“There are more oranges on the tree. I could get you some now if you want,” Corinne offered.

“I would certainly pay you for them,” Severine said.

Corinne saw her father frown a little at Severine's suggestion of money. “No charge,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“It's still raining, Corinne. Maybe you can get them later,” Pierre said.

Corinne shrugged. “I'm already all wet.” She ran out quickly, picked two of the closest oranges to the house, and returned to the kitchen. She cut one of them in half and squeezed some of the juice into the tea her father was brewing for himself and Severine.

Pierre took a sip. “It's perfect,” he said. “It makes you feel good from the inside out.”

Severine's eyes lit up when she took her first sip as well. She gripped the cup and slurped up the rest of the tea in several loud gulps. Then she shifted her eyes from Corinne to Pierre, who had fallen silent watching her. Severine wiped her mouth and said, “You have a talent.”

Corinne was still dumbstruck, so Pierre nudged her a little. “It's not me,” Corinne sputtered. “It's just a seed in the ground growing the way it should.”

“But not every seed that is planted brings such beautiful fruit,” Severine said. “You made this happen. Accept the part that you play in it.”

“She's right, Corinne,” Pierre said. He turned to Severine. “You should see the way she tends to the trees, making sure there are no pests, blowing warm air on them when the nights are too cold.”

Corinne's face flushed, and she smiled despite herself. “I learned it from my mama.”

Severine nodded. “Of course you did. Is that her?” She pointed to the wax figure on a shelf in the other room.

Corinne nodded.

“She made that too,” Pierre said with a wink at Corinne.

“You must miss your mama. I know what that is like to lose someone suddenly.” She reached her hand out toward Corinne, but Corinne did not take it. After a moment, Severine let it drop back to her side.

Pierre said, “Corinne, you should change out of those wet clothes before you get sick.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of her head, then pushed her out of the kitchen.

When Corinne returned from changing, Severine was standing at the door. “It stopped raining,” she said to Pierre. “I think it's time I went home.”

“Can you make it back in the dark?” Pierre asked. “You don't have a lantern.”

“I know these paths like they're written on my hand,” Severine said. “Thank you for letting me keep dry in your house, Pierre.” She looked at Corinne. “Maybe you will save me some oranges tomorrow?”

“You will be at the market again?” Corinne asked as she squeezed more water out of her hair into a towel.

Severine glided out into the darkness. “Yes, you will see me again.”