Quince Duncan's Weathered Men and The Four Mirrors by Dorothy E. Mosby

Author:Dorothy E. Mosby
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9783319975351
Publisher: Springer International Publishing

III

That afternoon, Christian Bowman saw them cross the yard and approach the McForbes house. He found it difficult to resist that undefinable urge that was overpowering him, a mix of fury and sorrow. It left a miserable taste in his mouth, like that of a friend’s betrayal. His tormented eyes were fixed on a pile of manure. But he let them pass. Brown and McForbes continued on their way without seeing him. Closing his eyes for a moment, Christian held his breath. He parted the branches where he stood while he watched from a distance as the men zig-zagged through the pasture.

The weapon trembled in his hands. An iguana that measured the length of two men’s steps reposed on a branch with its head raised, muscles tense.

Bowman heard Nabe’s voice teaching their children about the Ten Commandments. He watched Brown and McForbes approach the wire fence and then crouch down. He pulled the trigger with rage. The flash of green passed through the tense afternoon air. The iguana fell dead to the ground. A feeling of intense cold emerged from the place where the iguana fell.

Only Brown turned back to see. They crossed the fence, their figures getting smaller and smaller with each step.

Frustrated, Christian headed to his own house.

Nabe was waiting at the door. Her eyes flickered as they always do in critical moments.

“Did you see Brown with that son-of-a-bitch?”

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“They sent for Charles. He went to go get him. Lorena’s sick.”

“What?”

Nabe went into the house, followed by her anxious husband. Eager for news, Christian repeated the question.

“A duppy got her when she was out turning the cacao.”

“What? But, in daylight?”

“In the pure light of the day.”

She walked to the bedroom and stretched out across the bed.

“Don’t play innocent with me. I know you very well.”

Christian walked around the room twice. Then he went to the refrigerator and took out some rum and two glasses.

“Bitch!” Nabe said with satisfaction.

“Are you happy now?”

“Bitch!”

From a distance, the clouds began to gather.

“Close the window.”

Obediently, he got up thinking about the long passage of time that had been building up between then and now. Wishing he had been able to control his impulses and that Nabe would’ve forgiven him for having had a few too many drinks and falling asleep on the night of her birthday.

He walked across the small room, the glass dancing between his thick fingers. He warmed the glass, breathing in the air that was heavy with repressed desires, frustrated dreams, and broken days. Finishing off the last drops, he gathered the pieces together, one after the other, until his body was left at the mercy of his wife’s violent caresses. And suddenly the day submerged into moans.

The beginning of the sunset caught him by surprise as he finished off his third drink. It wasn’t right to contradict Nabe because she knew very well about Lorena’s rape. Ever since that moment, she refused to believe that it was rape, but instead the actions of a brazen woman who willingly gave herself to Christian and for that she hated Lorena.

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