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Lover's Leap It was a
love for tomorrow, not the 1830's Jamaica when slavery was king,
god, ruler, and slave master. Two young slaves had eyes for each
other but the daughter of a rich and powerful plantation owner was
also in love. She brought love and she brought grief. Lookout, a
1700 ft. cliff, stunningly beautiful to the eyes, was their secret
meeting place. It provided the most beautiful view from the
cliff…and the most deadly!
For a taste of this intriguing novel, here's an excerpt…
Chapter 4
The buggy moved further and further away from
the miseries and agonies of Big Yard. A day away from the
plantation was a blessing in disguise for Maude, Babwe and
now Jerome. Anita - to her it was fun. In essence, she
didn't really have to go on a trip like that. Nevertheless,
she capitalised on her father's loneliness and yearning for
her mother and took the opportunity she had been hoping for
all along i.e. to have some time with the young slave; to
get to know him better, and without any restrictions, was
all that was on her mind right now.
The first two miles of the journey were almost in
silence. It was a little dark but soon that huge orange ball
of fire known as the sun would creep over the Spur Tree
Hills to the east of them, and spread its golden rays on
their jerking bodies. The horses came to a slow trot at the
command of Babwe.
"What's the matter?" asked Anita
"Thought I would give the horses a five minute break if
that is okay with you ma'am."
"Oh, that's all right."
The horses had stopped in their tracks, their heads
already lowered to the dew-covered grass overflowing into
the narrow road. The quiet morning gave way to the sound of
gushing water from a small stream bordering the road. The
horses didn't seem interested in the sound of the water; the
thick mound of fresh, green grass was more to their liking.
Jerome stepped down from the buggy, the moment the
horses came to a halt. He joined Babwe in holding the reins
to allow them to feed. Maude was slumped down in a rather
comfortable position. Jerome saw Anita trying to make her
way down from the buggy and rushed to help her.
"Here," he said, extending his hand.
"Let me help you ma'am."
"Oh, thank you, how nice of you."
"You are most welcome ma'am," Anita looked at him,
leaning her head to one side. "You know you seem to be a
nice person."
Jerome turned away his head and was about ready to walk
towards Babwe. ....."Jerome! Please wait!"
Jerome turned around to meet her gaze.
"I know it's a bit awkward, you being a slave and I
being the slave master's daughter but I would like to get to
know you better. Can we be friends?" ....."Ah…I.."
"It's okay Jerome I know you are shy but please take
your time. No rush, can we be friends?"
"Y-yes…no ma'am…I…"
"Tell you what, let it be our secret Jerome. No one
will know except you and me. Is that okay?"
Jerome nodded in the affirmative. "I-I have to be
careful ma'am. You know that is trouble."
"Yes I know Jerome and that is why it must be our
little secret, right?" ....."Right ma'am."
"Okay go back to Babwe now and always remember our
little secret."
Anita watched lustful eyes as he walked away from her.
She felt triumphant, she felt victorious. She had found a
treasure and that was her little secret. .....Maude smiled
with half closed eyes. She didn't fully opened them until
she was certain Anita had moved away from the buggy, and was
walking toward the stream. So that was it, their little
secret was no longer one. Maude had heard everything and her
suspicions all along had now been proven right. Anita was up
to something, it could mean trouble, real trouble for
Jerome. At that point, Maude was not convinced that she
should get involved. She had had more than one conversation
with Alice Rowe, who seemed much in love with Jerome. In
fact, Maude had promised to arrange for both of them to meet
one Sunday at church. She had hoped for a meeting soon but
she had been so tired recently that she didn't get around to
doing it. She, too, would have to keep her mouth shut
regarding the impending development. Suppose John ever had
knowledge of what had transpired. She hated to think of
consequences...
E-mail your comments to me at:
horane@tht.net
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