Receive Me Falling (18 page)

           
“He couldn’t part with it for a
portrait?”

           
“Not surprising.
 
The plantation owners in the Caribbean were notorious for their alcoholism. These men
were likely unwelcome in their homeland, adventurous enough to embark upon a
treacherous ocean journey to exotic islands where they came into money quickly
and lorded over massive populations of slaves.
 
They had no one to keep them in check.”

           
“Except, perhaps, their daughters.”

           
“It looks that way.”

           
“Look at her face,” said Meg.
 
“She’s bored.
 
And her skin is so dark.
 
She must
have been an active plantation owner.
 
I
don’t see her spending much time lounging about indoors.”

           
Meg looked around the room.

           
“So how could this place have
remained so undisturbed over the years?”

           
“Nevisians are respectful of others’
property.
 
You know, there’s another Eden that’s haunted on the
island—the Eden Brown house.
 
A woman’s
fiancé shot her lover the night before they married.
 
No one ever disturbs that place.
 
Plus, the history of this house and the land
is enough to keep most people away.”

           
“Do you mean the alleged haunting?”

           
“In part.”

           
Drew’s face again grew dark.

           
“Is there more?” asked Meg.

           
Drew looked around the room and ran
his hands over the pianoforte.

           
“About fifteen years ago, some
children were playing around the house.
 
They were horsing around on the cliff down on the back lawn.
 
There was a terrible accident.”

           
“What happened?”

           
“A child went over the cliff. He was
standing too close to the edge, and the ground gave way under his weight.”

           
“And that’s why others have stayed
away?”

           
“Yes.”

           
“And that bears the unfortunate
coincidence involving the slave who went over the cliff.”

           
Drew turned from Meg and walked out
into the hall and toward the back of the house.
 
Meg followed him and directed him to the dining room.
 
Drew stood in the doorway for several minutes
taking in the mural.
 
It was quite
impressive from a distance to view the entire scene.
 

           
“The fall of Adam and Eve,” said
Drew.

           
“Look down here—West, 1811.”

           
“Are there any famous artists named
West?
 
I don’t know much about art.”

           
“Benjamin West was an American
painter and Quaker alive during the late 18th and early 19th century,” said
Meg.
 
“He moved to England in 1763 and is said to have
lived the rest of his life there.
 
But
the date on the painting, 1811, suggests that he may have spent time on the
island.”

           
“What makes you think Benjamin West
is your painter?”

           
“He completed a painting in 1791
entitled
The Expulsion of Adam and Eve
from Paradise
.
 
The face of Eve in
The Expulsion
looks exactly like her
face in this painting. The colors, the style—it all matches.
 
Unfortunately, I was unable find any
information on Benjamin West in 1811.
 
By
all the accounts I could find, he was in England.”

           
“You said West was a Quaker.
 
There was a large Quaker population on the
island in the 18th Century.
 
Is it
possible he was visiting a relative? The Bath Hotel was quite a popular resort
for the wealthy during that time period as well.
 
Perhaps he stayed there.”

           
“I’ll look into it further.
 
In the meantime, I’m going to contact the
National Gallery of Art in Washington
DC.
 
The
Expulsion
has been there since 1989, and I’m going to see if they have any
recommendations on West experts who could help me.”

           
As they moved throughout the rest of
the house, Drew seemed to be tiring.
 
Meg
suggested they stop for the day, and drove him back to the museum.
 

“I’ll contact you if I find anything significant
while I’m at work,” said Drew.
 
“Thank
you for taking me into the house.”

Meg smiled and watched Drew limp into the building.
 
Then she drove back to the villa.
 

Meg
was falling in love with Nevis.
  
The temperature was perfect, the humidity
was low, and a light breeze kept the edge off the heat.
 
She walked close to the tree line in the
cool, soft sand to get a good look at the flowers, shrubs, and trees on the
beach.
 
Much of the vegetation comprised
some form of coconut palm, but a small grove of trees that looked like apple
trees caught Meg’s attention.

           
Meg walked closer to observe the
leaves and fruits hanging from the tree.
 
It looked like the tree of knowledge from the painting in the house.
 
It had thick, waxy, green leaves, and shiny,
plump, green fruits.
 
It looked very
inviting, and Meg reached up to pluck one of the fruits.

           
“Stop!”

           
Meg jumped and turned around to see Hamilton approaching
her.
 
He was running and wore a look of
concern.

           
“What’s the matter?” Meg asked.
 
“Does it bite?”

           
“Yes—well, sort of.”

           
“I don’t understand.”

           
“That’s a manchineel
tree—poisonous.”

           
‘The fruit?”

           
“The whole thing,” said Hamilton.
 
“The sap will blind you.
 
The leaves will give you blisters.
 
The fruit is deadly.”

           
Meg walked out from under the
tree.
 

           
“Thanks for the warning,” she said.

           
“Most of the manchineel trees are
marked with signs, but since this is on your land, it’s considered wild.”

           
“I’m lucky you found me here.
 
Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

           
“It’s a holiday.”

           
“Thank God for that.”

           
Meg and Hamilton fell into step
along the beach.
 

           
“I’ve spent so much time inside the
plantation house that I haven’t been able to explore the land,” said Meg.
 
“This is the real treasure.”

           
“Do you see that cave?
 
It is a great hiding spot—except when the
tide comes in. You’d have to swim to get out.
 
And the boulders below the cliff—those are great for finding sea
creatures, but you must be careful.
 
The
water is rough and the boulders are slippery.”

           
“So much danger with so much
beauty.”

           
“That’s the trouble with Paradise.”
 

           
Hamilton led Meg over some of the low, flat
boulders to look at the sea life.
 
They
found a sea star, several varieties of tropical fish, and anemones.
 
The water was warm and calm—even around the
boulders.
 
Hamilton remarked that it was unusual for the
water to be so still.
 
After exploring
the rocks, Hamilton
raced over to a banana tree and scaled it to pick a bunch for Meg.
 
They were pure yellow, without a hint of
spoiling, and deliciously sweet.
 

           
Meg looked at her watch and was frustrated
to see that her appointment with the real estate agent was fast
approaching.
 
She thanked Hamilton for saving her from the manchineel and hurried
back to the path that led to Eden
to meet with the agent.
 
Hamilton stayed on the
beach, tossing shells into the water and humming to himself.
  
Meg smiled and started up the path.
 
She thought she would like a picture of Hamilton on the beach and
turned back to capture him against the water.
 

           
She fished her camera out of her bag
as she came to the clearing on the shore.
 
She was prepared to take his picture with his back to her, facing the
sea, but when she got to the beach, he was gone.
 
She looked around, but did not see him
anywhere. A movement over by the cave drew her attention away from the water,
and she thought he must have gone in the cave to explore.

           
I’ll
get his picture later.

           
Meg turned back up the path and
hurried to Eden.

Henry
Kingston, the real estate agent, was effusive about the quality of the
land.
 
He took pictures, measured,
sketched, and completed forms for almost two hours.
 
Meg saved the plantation home for the end of
the tour, and Henry never once closed his mouth as he walked through the
house.
 
Meg had to show him the mural,
and notified him that she was consulting an expert.
 

           
“The value of the land and plantation
home will be in the tens of millions of dollars,” said Henry.
 
“My only concern is that there may not be a
single buyer out there who could afford it all.”

           
“I’ve actually spoken to a man from Grand
Star Resorts.
 
He thinks the company
would be able to purchase it no matter what the cost.”

           
“Have you considered subdividing the
land into smaller parcels to sell to local developers?” he asked.
 
“Much of the land on Nevis
is being converted for tourism so Nevisians are finding it increasingly hard to
find housing of their own.”