Robert McGill - Once We Had a Country

“Who was it?” she repeats.

“I promised not to tell. The man was very worried about people finding out.”

“So why are you telling me?” She’s unable to keep a hint of frustration from her voice.

“Because I’m concerned,” he replies. “A grown man with a couple of girls.” He looks at her without blinking. “It could cause problems.”

She nods. Whoever it was, if Frank Dodd found out, he could get the police involved. They might use it as an excuse to raid the farm, and with all the dope around, God knows what would come of that.

“They were just smoking up?” she asks.

George Ray takes a moment to consider his answer. “The thin one was sitting in his lap.”

All manner of debauchery begins to run through her mind.

“How did they act when they saw you?”

“The man was ashamed, the girls less so.” George Ray smiles wryly. “The red-haired one has a sharp tongue.”

Maggie remembers well enough. She tries to picture going next door and confronting the two of them about what happened but can’t quite manage it.

“So what do you want me to do?” she asks.

He shrugs. “You know this man from last night better than I do.”

“But you won’t tell me who it is.”

“I promised,” he repeats. But he adds, “I will only say that those girls should not be out late with a married man.”

“Dimitri,” she says, and his eyebrows lift enough for her to know she’s right.

“I don’t wish to cause trouble,” he insists.

“Of course.” Then a thought occurs to her. “Why tell me? Why not Fletcher?”

George Ray’s face grows pensive, as if he has asked himself the same question. “Because you seem to care about the farm’s success,” he replies. “And because Fletcher might overreact.”

He seems embarrassed saying it, but she knows he’s right. Fletcher would make a stink, and it could backfire on him. She doesn’t particularly care if Dimitri and Rhea leave, but she doesn’t want half the people on the farm going with them.

“Thanks for telling me,” she says. “I’ll think about what to do.”

He looks her in the eye and nods, and she feels a vibration go through her at what he’s shared, at the fact of his sharing it. As he walks off, she realizes she doesn’t want to speak with Dimitri. It will only lead to no good. She’d rather keep the matter between herself and George Ray. And suddenly it seems to her that Dimitri isn’t the only one in the wrong.

At that night’s meeting, Fletcher wants to talk about people who crash at the farm and don’t contribute anything, but Dimitri says they have more important things to discuss. He says they should start a public seminar on organic farming. They should organize a parade through Virgil in solidarity with the Quebec liberation movement. Everyone seems to recognize he’s just stirring the pot, because nobody bothers to respond. It’s as though they have turned up only to watch him and Fletcher argue.

Then Dimitri announces that what they really need to talk about is their exploitation of black people.

“For Christ’s sake,” says Fletcher, “you mean George Ray?”

“Some of us marched on Washington,” says Dimitri. “Anyone here feel strange having this guy as our personal slave?”

Hands go up around the room. Jim and Sarah from New Jersey, Rhea, Brid. Maggie can’t believe Dimitri’s gall.

“Is George Ray even Jamaican?” Dimitri says. “He doesn’t talk like it.”

“He’s not going to speak in patois with a bunch of crackers like us,” says Fletcher. “Look, he isn’t a slave. He gets paid. He chooses to be here.”

“But that’s a problem too,” says Rhea. “He’s only here for the money. I thought we wanted everyone committed to each other.” Maggie wonders if Dimitri has asked Rhea to take his side or if she’s just doing it instinctively, unaware of what she’s abetting. Either way, Maggie can’t let it go on.

“We shouldn’t talk about George Ray when he isn’t here,” she exclaims. Everyone turns to look at her. She meets Dimitri’s gaze and glares at him until he drops his eyes.

“Maggie’s right,” says Fletcher, standing. “I’ll go get him.” He sounds glad of her support and eager to have another ally in the room.

“That’s right, massa,” says Dimitri. “You fetch him for us. It’s how your family got rich, isn’t it? All those plantations.”

Fletcher gives Dimitri the finger but sits back down.

From the kitchen comes the ringing of the phone. Nobody moves, apparently unwilling to miss whatever’s about to happen next, so Maggie gets to her feet and runs to answer. As she goes, she’s thinking she’ll find George Ray herself and ask him to join them. When she picks up the receiver and says hello, the voice at the other end gives her a start. It’s Gran.

“I’m sorry for calling,” Gran says. “I know you don’t want to be disturbed.”

“What’s up?” Maggie asks, wondering how Gran got the number, thinking it must have been the operator. They should have asked for an unlisted number.

“I’m worried about your father,” says Gran. “Has he been in touch with you?” Maggie says he hasn’t. “He said he’d phone me Monday from a town near the mission, but he never called.”

Maggie tries to suppress a feeling of alarm. “Maybe his ride got a flat tire,” she suggests. “Maybe the weather was bad. If you’re concerned, you should call the head office in Laos.”

“I did. They said they’d look into it.”

Maggie tries to think of how to reply. Whenever she talks with Gran, she feels adulthood slip away until once more she’s the little girl who argued with her every chance she got. Then she remembers her conversation with Wale in the screening room.

“Gran, did Dad ever mention meeting a friend of mine over there?”

“What sort of friend?” Gran sounds suspicious.

“Just a guy here at the farm. His name’s Wale.”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Maggie takes the telephone cord and winds it about her hand. “Listen, don’t get uptight about the missed call. I bet Dad phones next week and says he just slept in or something.”

“He never sleeps in,” Gran retorts, then goes quiet as if waiting for further reassurance. From the living room come the sounds of voices shouting at each other.

“You’ll tell me if it turns out something’s wrong?” Maggie asks, and Gran says she will. Maggie edges down the hall, unlooping the cord from her hand as she goes, trying to make out what’s being said in the living room.

“Are you all right up there?” Gran asks.

“I’m great. I’m very happy. Hey, I even went to church a while back.” Why is she telling Gran that? It’s the last thing she wants to be talking about. “The farm’s a big hit,” she adds quickly. “You should come and see it for yourself.” But that’s no better; she can’t believe what she’s saying, and it seems Gran can’t either, because there’s only silence at the other end.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry for bothering you,” says Gran finally, then bids her goodbye.

Maggie puts down the phone, telling herself it’s ridiculous of Gran to get worked up over one missed call. Her son is in a war zone. What did she expect? This is what she gets for urging him to go, as if it were heroic, not stupid and dangerous. Now she wants Maggie to fret along with her just because he hasn’t been in touch as planned.

But there could have been a bombing raid. He could be laid up with malaria. Maggie tries to put the images out of her head. This is why she doesn’t want to hear from him at all. It isn’t right to make them worry like this.

She returns to the living room only to find people passing into the hallway. When Fletcher emerges, he murmurs to her, “I’m going to kill him, I really am.” He continues onto the porch and lets the screen door slap shut behind him. Maggie waits in the hall until Dimitri appears. Rhea is with him, but Maggie doesn’t care.