Wiley Brothers Box Set (Books 4-6)

"Her breasts are coming in." Craig whistled as the girl passed the road where they were installing a fence. "Who wants to bet that she will be mine by tomorrow?"
"Not betting," Ray, another laborer muttered. "The family is so dirt poor that her mother will be pimping her out in no time. The big brother came by here looking for work this morning. The poor thing was hungry. I gave him my lunch and the little bit of money I had on me. I told him we had enough people to do the fence. He couldn't work anyway; he looked skinny and hungry like he is malnourished."
"That's good to know that she is hungry." Craig sounded as if he were smacking his lips. "I can feed her all the food that she wants."
"Such a shame if she becomes one of your baby mothers," Ray grunted. "Because that girl is different. Very sweet personality and so pretty. All of that dark rich skin— almost luminous and that long curly hair. She is the kind of girl that would make a killing modeling on the world stage if given the opportunity. Definitely haven't seen anybody quite like her before."
"Yeah, she is pretty for a black girl," Craig said dismissively. "All my baby mothers are light skinned. She could be the exception."
"She is pretty, full stop," Ray grunted. "If I had the money, I would make sure that she doesn't fall into your clutches but I am a churchman now and waiting on the Lord for a wife.
"Besides, that girl is jailbait. She is too young to be in a relationship like the one you want. That's the problem with the men in this neighborhood; they have no concern for a girl's age."
That's when Guy looked up.
He had been half listening to the conversation between the two laborers while he worked out with the engineer how they would put proper drainage on the property.
He was on a mission to modernize his uncle Micky's thirty acres of farmland and make things much easier for the old man and himself.
The number one problem in the valleys was flooding, and Micky had lost nearly five acres of coffee plants in the last rains.
Guy heard Ray's end of the conversation with Craig.
He vaguely registered that they were talking about a girl. He had looked across at the men and then in the direction that Craig was leering.
And then he saw her and instantly forgot about the drainage systems, rock topography, and geology. It was as though something changed around and within him. He immediately felt protective.
He hadn't even seen her face. She had stopped and was looking down at her feet in what looked like the tattiest slippers he had ever seen. It had an indistinct color and looked like a dog had chewed around it.
"Who is she?" Guy turned to Craig and Ray.
"Her name is Lucia," Ray was the one who answered. "She has a brother named Earl and another one a little younger than her named Nate. The brother Earl is seventeen, she is just fifteen, and the younger brother is fourteen."
"Their mother, Aretha, just moved here from the poor house in Port Antonio. They are now living in Beatrice Mcbean's house."
"The cottage where the walls are practically falling apart?" Guy asked appalled. "That place is not habitable."
"They live there though," Ray sniffed. "The church has been helping them with food, and clothes and things since they came into the community, but that's not a regular thing. I doubt the children are even going to school."
Craig licked his lips. "I can help her with that."
"It's the family that needs help," Ray said in disgust beating Guy to it. "Not just the girl. She does not need your kind of help."
"You are going to leave this girl alone, Craig." Guy looked up the road where she was hopping in her half slipper, her long ponytail bouncing behind her.
"I saw her first." Craig protested.
"All you are going to do is look." Guy turned to Craig, "and tell your friends and everyone else that Lucia is not available. Hands off, or face the consequences."
"Which means no work in the district." Ray murmured for good measure. "Don't worry Guy; I will help spread the news. There are too many thirsty men around here who should know better."
"He wants her for himself," Craig sneered. "Why should I be the one who backs down, Guy Wiley is not God."
"How many children do you have, Craig?" Guy asked.
"What?" Craig shrugged. "Maybe nine. I wasn't named as the father for a few."
"Amazing," Ray murmured, "and he is not even twenty-five yet."
"How many girlfriends?" Guy looked at Craig assessingly.
"Just two at the moment." Craig bragged.
"And who provides for this harem?" Guy raised an eyebrow.
"I work for Micky," Craig spoke less than confidently now; he had never taken any thought to who his bosses were, the place was called Micky's Coffee Farm. Therefore, he assumed Micky was the boss.
"When last have you seen Micky on this coffee farm?" Guy asked.
"Well I," Craig looked down at the ground. "I don't know...I report to Jonesy, not you."
"And Jonesy reports to Guy," Ray said snidely. "You have no sense. Connect the dots."
Craig shrugged. "I can leave the girl alone."
"Good." Guy nodded, "her name is Lucia, you heard Ray say her name."
Craig nodded. "I am going to leave Lucia alone."
"Say it one more time with meaning." Ray laughed, "You can't trust this village ram. He thinks he is the country stud. He is not going to let Lucia slip away."
"I promise, I will leave her alone." Craig muttered, "I have too many mouths to feed to risk losing my job here for one girl."
Craig looked directly at Guy. "I swear, and I will tell everyone who dares to look at her to back away—far away."
"Now that's better," Guy nodded. "Much better."

****

"Tell me about the family that lives in Beatrice Mcbean's condemned house," Guy said to Myrtle as soon as he stepped into the kitchen at Micky's house.
Myrtle was preparing something that smelled so scrumptious Guy had to stop and inhale the air.
Myrtle looked at him and grinned. "So you saw the pretty girl with the long hair."
"Yes," Guy nodded, "and then I heard that she is living in the worst conditions a person could live in. They would be better off in a tent than that place. Any minute the concrete can collapse with them sleeping. Where on earth do they sleep anyway?"
Myrtle shook her head. "They throw a tarpaulin over one of the three walls left standing. It is pretty bad. A couple of us in the community help out when we can. I send food over there regularly, and others help but...it's bad.
"I heard that the mother was fleeing from her husband. She ended up here because she is a distant relative of Beatrice. The house was abandoned; Beatrice had no close relatives to claim it, so I guess that is why she is living there. As bad as it is, I think it is a safe haven. Aretha that is the name of the mother said it was better than the poor house. That's where they were living."
"I see." Guy nodded.
"Aretha is a hard worker and could do with a job." Myrtle shook her head, "A little birdie told me that she had an affair with Chilton Wray, from Wray Hardware and got pregnant for him and that resulted in the girl Lucia."
"Chilton Wray is married."
"And so was Aretha." Myrtle snorted. "That is part of the problem I guess. I heard the husband tried to kill her."
Guy leaned on the counter and watched as Myrtle chopped up carrots like a professional chef.
"The mother is in her thirties and still pretty young. I think she got a hard knock in life to be living this way. That's why I asked Lillie from the basic school to hire her as a custodian. Their last person left the other day."
"I want to help too, surely the custodian pay is just a pittance," Guy murmured, "But I have to do it anonymously. I don't want to be considered some kind of benefactor that they'll be beholden to in the future."
"You are such a good boy." Myrtle looked at him, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiled.
"I am twenty-two, Myrtle," Guy shook his head, "far from a boy."
"Ha," Myrtle chortled. "Twenty-two looks like an infant when you are forty years older. How are you going to help anonymously?"
"I'll think of something," Guy said moving away from the counter. "One thing is for sure, I have to get them out of that building soon. Do you know if Wayne is free?"
"The builder, Wayne?" Myrtle widened her eyes. "Guy, you are not going to build a house for them?"
"Yes." Guy nodded. "Just a three bedroom cottage. Simple design. I want Lucia to have her own room; her mother can have her own and the boys share. They need electricity and running water, and all three of them are going to school in the next term.
"I am taking that on. I am going to have to arrange for Dominic Black our manager at the Wiley Groceries in Port Antonio to send them groceries every week, and I need to get clothes and shoes for them all. You are going to have to get the measurements."
"Can you afford it?" Myrtle frowned, "you recently left college, your business is just getting on its feet, you just took on Micky's coffee farm wholeheartedly, and you are going to Canada to do your masters."
"I can afford it," Guy shrugged, "I have shares in the family business. We make money; we have quite a few supermarkets now. I get a yearly dividend, which is quite hefty. Besides, I haven't spent a dime of the money I get from the coffee farm. And it does make money, especially since I took over years ago.
"Micky's heart wasn't in it, and he was too old-fashioned in his approach to make much. I am running a professional outfit now. When I go overseas I am leaving Horace Jones in charge here. My foreman Ron Getty will be in charge of the strawberry farm. They are good honest men."
"But you are investing so much in people you do not even know." Myrtle protested. "Why?"
Guy contemplated the question for a while, long enough for Myrtle to start prepping a platter of fish for roasting in her outdoor brick oven.
The hefty fish were caught in the river below the house. They were practically fresh, just recently scaled.
She had quite forgotten about the question by the time he answered.
"Maybe because it is the right thing to do. You and other community people do what you can. I have the means to do much more," Guy said finally.
Myrtle looked at him and chuckled. "Or maybe because you like that girl and you are willing to do anything for her, there is no shame in admitting your motives."
Guy shook his head. "You were the one who pointed out that I don't know them. Besides, I doubt she will ever know that I am behind all this because I just thought of a charity name that will help them anonymously, the Farm Help Society. What do you think about that?"
Myrtle frowned. "Farm Help Society? Sounds good. Sounds large, like a big committee of charitable folks."
Myrtle chuckled. "The FHS, it has a very legit sound to it."
"I am happy you like it." Guy smiled, "because you are going to be the face of it. And you will be in charge while I am gone."

****

It took Guy three months to turn around the misfortunes of the family completely. In that time he had gotten to know them better. He had volunteered to work on the house with Wayne and his men. Just so that he could keep an eye on the progress of the building.
Aretha he realized was a fierce mother hen. She was still quite attractive, she was the object of Wayne's flirtation for the duration of the job, but she knew how to hold her own.
"You know who she reminds me of? Erykah Badu, the singer," Wayne would repeat like a broken record.
"Every time she steps out of the house I feel like she is going to tell me, 'You better call Tyrone, tell him I said to come home and pack your stuff.'"
That was usually greeted with laughter.
Aretha did have more than a passing resemblance to Erykah Badu. She had a lighter complexion than the singer though, and she kept her hair in a fade cut. He didn't know if it was intentioned, but her hairstyle emphasized her eyes, which were a liquid rich brown, almost the exact match of dark chocolate liqueur. Thick short eyelashes surrounded her eyes; it made for a striking combination.
He had initially thought she had on thick mascara, but she had passed on the distinct eye color and the thick eyelashes to all her children.
On Lucia, it took on greater depth. She had a darker skin tone than her relatives and corkscrew curls that reached down her back. Her mahogany skin tone emphasized the whiteness of her eyes and her whiter than white teeth.
Her lips were so deep red they were almost black. Lucia was magnetic to look at. Once she appeared in the vicinity, it was hard to look away.
The men were careful to pretend as if Lucia did not exist, though she was hard to ignore. Whenever she came outside, a polite silence descended among them.
He had warned them off, and they took heed, except for one laborer who had whispered quite loudly for him to hear.
"That girl is going to be drop-dead gorgeous one day."
"That day is today," another brave soul whispered.
He silently agreed. Though he had glared a warning at the speaker.
They had finished a bedroom, bathroom, the open area living room and kitchen in record time. Lucia had walked out of the house, excitement in her eyes, searching for him among the men.
Guy walked toward her, his boots muddied, his shirt splattered with cement. It occurred to him while walking toward her that he could almost feel an invisible pull. It happened the first time they met, and it persisted even now.
"Guy! My birthday is not for another month. She waved the card he had left with the gift on their newly finished veranda. "Did you really give me this for my birthday? A camera?"
Her eyes widened in awe.
Guy nodded. Her birthday was the end of August. He was going to be in Canada by then. He had an all expenses paid scholarship, to do his Masters in plant science at the University of British Colombia.
"You said you wanted to capture memories, that's a good way to do it."
"Thank you," Lucia squealed, hugging him tight to her, ignoring his cement splattered shirt.
She hugged him for too long, relaxing in his arms. The silence around them was deafening as the men observed their interaction.
Guy reminded himself once again that she was still just a girl. A very pretty teenage girl, on the cusp of womanhood, but still just a girl.
His hands-off speeches were meant for himself as well. At twenty-two, to her fifteen years they were seven years apart in not just age and experience but maturity. He was her self-designated protector. He wanted to preserve her innocence for as long as was possible.
All his feelings toward her were placed in dormancy, put on ice.
He was going to wait until she grew up. He was patient like that. It was a character trait that farming had honed to perfection.
He put his arm around her, gave her a little squeeze and stepped back from her embrace.
All his noble speeches to himself couldn't downplay the fact that he was a man and she was a desirable female. He was almost happy that he wouldn't be seeing her for a year.