They say that strange things tend to happen during a full moon. I wonder if things happen a little more strangely in the Caribbean. The moon wasn’t quite full yet, but its glow reflected brightly over the Caribbean Sea, like a night light finding its way into everyone’s homes and hearts.
My mother, who recently became widowed, came to visit me from Atlanta, along with my two aunties. Since their arrival to the Virgin Islands, their lives have not been the same. To tell the truth, neither has my life or my best friend, Lisa’s.
Lisa, who moved to St. John from Los Angeles after a horrible marriage, encouraged me to move to the Virgin Islands. Lisa bragged that there were “real men” here, and so I came to see if what she was saying was true, because, Lord knows, it was hard to find a good man in Los Angeles.
As I pull into my driveway, I notice a strange car parked in one of the spaces. The car has an Avis Rent A Car sticker on the bumper. I can’t imagine who would be here. I spoke with Aunt Dot on the phone this morning just before my fiancé, Fitzroy, and I boarded our plane from Nevis back to St. Thomas. Aunt Dot told me she probably wouldn’t be home when we got back to town. She said she would be in St. John taking snorkeling lessons with her friend Marlin, who lives there, a twelve-minute ferryboat ride from St. Thomas.
Marlin is also known as the “Mango Man.” He and Aunt Dot have been going out every day since they met, which was shortly after she arrived on St. Thomas. Marlin lives next door to the Coconut Palm on St. John, a five-star hotel, in a cute little wooden house with a small porch. We recently found out from Fitzroy that Marlin is a very wealthy man. He owns the waterfront property bordering his house where the hotel is built, and he recently inherited his family’s working farm just across the road. Unlike many Caribbean natives, Marlin had the wisdom to decline offers to purchase the property. The hotel offered to plant hundreds of mango and palm trees as a gift to Marlin when their land-lease deal was signed. Everyone, including Marlin, knows the hotel planted the trees to hide his little house from their wealthy guests. Little did anyone know that those mangoes would win first place every year at the agricultural fair. The “Mango Man” has the largest and sweetest mangoes in the Caribbean. Gourmet super markets from near and far order their mangoes from him.
On any given day, you will find hotel guests sitting on Marlin’s porch eating mangoes and listening intently while he tells them the history of the Virgin Islands first hand. Many of these people are repeat visitors to St. John because of Marlin, and they, too, extend invitations for him to visit them in their mansions all over the world.
Aunt Dot has come a long way with her swimming lessons. When she first arrived on the island, we found out at a most awkward time that she couldn’t swim. A co-worker of mine, Linda Peters, invited us to her family’s cookout on Water Island, a small, modestly inhabited island adjacent to St. Thomas. Linda announced that her cousin had just finished massage school and would be giving massages on the beach for a small fee.
It was that day that Aunt Dot and Marlin met. He insisted Aunt Dot get a massage in a tent set up at the waterside. She was enjoying her massage until she felt something crawling up her arm which was dangling down the side of the massage table, close to the ground. Discovering it was a small scorpion she jumped up and ran naked into the sea - screaming and arms flailing.
One small problem: Aunt Dot couldn’t swim. Thank God, Marlin was sitting on a rock just outside the tent waiting for her. He ran behind the naked Aunt Dot and saved her from drowning. That day, he made a promise that he would make a swimmer out of her. Marlin held true to his promise, and now he is teaching her to snorkel as well.
As I enter the house, our housekeeper, Zipporah, who is busy in the kitchen baking bread, greets me.
“Welcome back, Miss Faith! Where are your bags?”
“Afternoon, Zipporah.”
Zipporah gives me a big hug.
“Fitzroy has them in his van. He’ll bring them up later. He had to stop by the police station. Whose car is that parked outside?”
Zipporah doesn’t drive, so it can’t be hers.
“It’s your house guest, Mr. George. Em takin’ a shower.”
Zipporah continues kneading bread.
“Mr. George, who? I wasn’t expecting any house guest.”
Zipporah stops what she is doing and wipes her hands on her apron. She is nervous.
“Miss Faith, de man say em’s your uncle. Jesus! Should I call the police?”
“Uncle George? Aunt Dot’s husband from Atlanta? Oh, my God!”
“Not good. Mrs. Dot and Mr. Marlin on dey way ’ere now. Dem call a couple hours ago to see if me need dem to bring some ting. I tell dem me cooking pumpkin soup and makin’ bread. Mr. Marlin say he does make some mango ice cream he gon bring for all-you welcome back de-sert.”
Uncle George comes out of the bathroom bare-chest with a towel wrapped around his waist. The surprised look shows on my face. Uncle George embraces me.
“Don’t look so surprised to see me. How’s my favorite niece? And where is this police officer I hear you’re engaged to marry? You and Lisa didn’t waste any time coming down to these islands and finding a man.”
“Uncle George, what are you doing here?” I’m perplexed.
“Dot hasn’t been returning my calls. I wasn’t sure if y’all was all right, so I decided to come and see what’s going on.”
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