Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 Nellie had the feeling that someone was following her. They were walking through the parking lot of the Archives building. She glanced over her shoulder. She was right but relaxed immediately. It was only that guy Lester. "Please, young lady," he said to Nellie, "will you come with me?" Nellie stopped, turned, looked him over. She'd been so tired from all the driving that she hadn't taken much notice of him earlier. Tall, muscular, in a short–sleeved shirt that fit him very nicely. And that Jamaican accent, so cool. Pretty fine, Nellie thought. "I'm busy at the moment," she said, and nodded toward Dan and Amy. "But"— she smiled, tilted her head, and blinked slowly —"maybe later?"

Standing off to the side with Amy, Dan mimed putting a finger down his throat. "I'm afraid it has to be now," he said firmly. Nellie frowned. "I said later, but I think I'm changing my mind." He held up his hands and took a step back. "Hey, ease up, sister. You just need to come with me because somebody wants to talk to you." Nellie frowned. Who could that possibly be? If it were McIntyre, or— or the other guy, they would just call or e–mail, they wouldn't send a message through someone else…. She tried to disguise her puzzlement by talking tough. "If they want to talk to me, they can talk to me right here, like you are," she said. "I'm not going with someone I don't know to talk to someone else I don't know when I don't know where I'm going or— most important— why." Lester was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Yah, I get that you're nervous. How about this. I'll take you to the street. You can check it out. There are people all around, you can see that it's safe. You stand outside the house and she'll come

out to talk to you. She's old, but that much she can do. Okay?" Nellie pointed her chin at Dan and Amy. "I don't go anywhere without them." Lester shrugged. "She didn't say anything about other people. It's fine with me." They set out with Lester leading the way. He turned off the big avenue onto a smaller street. As he had promised, there were still plenty of people around. After a couple of blocks, he stopped in front of a small bungalow that had once been painted pink but was now faded to a weak shade of tan. He led them up the shallow concrete steps to the front porch. "You wait here," he said. He opened the screen door and went inside. They heard him call out, "Granma? A dawta here to you." Dan and Amy looked startled. "Daughter—?" Dan said. "Patois," Nellie said. "Jamaicans speak standard English to tourists but patois to each other. 'Dawta' means 'daughter,' but it can also mean 'woman,' especially a younger woman. So he said

something like, 'a young woman here to see you.'" "How do you know all that?" Amy demanded. "I have Jamaican friends in Boston," Nellie said. "I used to go to reggae clubs with them." It was the truth, but Amy didn't look entirely convinced. "What is your problem?" Nellie said with an impatient flap of her hand. "It's not like I could learn every language in the world just to spy on you guys! And even if I was going to try, do you think Jamaican patois would be high on the list?" No reply, of course. Amy, always scared of her own shadow… who'd have thought she could be so stubborn? The door opened. Standing there was a very old woman, bony, dark–skinned and gray–haired, wearing glasses. She looked at Nellie, expressionless, and nodded. Then she flicked a glance at Dan and finally at Amy. Her eyes lit up. "Ha!" she said. All three of them jumped. "Look pon Grace!" the old woman said to Amy,

and laughed heartily. Nellie was now thoroughly confused. Lester had wanted her to come with him, but now the old woman seemed to recognize Amy. What was going on? "Me shoulda know." The woman shook her head, still smiling. "You fayva Grace a whole heap. Dem eyes, uh–huh, yes." Amy cleared her throat. "You— you knew my grandmother?" "Jah know, dat is one fine lady. How she do now?" It was Dan who answered. "Our grandmother died," he said. "In August." The light faded from the woman's eyes. "Hush, bwoy. I so sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I nebah know." Awkward silence. "It's okay," Nellie said at last. It wasn't, but what were you supposed to say at a time like this? "Yes," the woman said. "Is her time. Nobody

cyant do nothin' when is their time." A pause. "My name Alice— you to call me Miss Alice." "I'm Nellie, and this is Dan and Amy." "I am surprise, seein' Grace's girl there," Miss Alice said. "But you is de one I waitin' on." She jerked her chin at Nellie. "Me? But how— I didn't— you couldn't—" "Grace. She say you gwine come one day, tell me to look out for you." "She told you that? When?" Miss Alice wrinkled her forehead. "She here when… twenty year ago? Maybe goin' on for twenty–five now." Nellie turned toward the porch steps. "Okay, we're out of here," she said. "I don't know what your game is, Miss Alice, but I know for sure that the truth isn't part of it. I wasn't even born then, and I didn't meet Grace until this year." Miss Alice scowled. "Ease up, dawta. You always so rude to them who is older than you?" Nellie felt like a little kid, getting scolded like that. She hesitated, trying to decide on a response.