The Sea Grape Tree by Gillian Royes Page B

her. Settling into the car and buckling up, Sarah thought about the woman’s averted eyes. Carthena was probably moody, she decided, or she had expected to be tipped, and she reminded herself to ask Sonja about the protocol for handling helpers.
    The thought lasted only a few seconds. By the time Roper swung the car onto the main road, it had been erased by the memory of dove-gray eyes, eyes that had stared at her and blinked.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
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    W atch your toes!” Shad called while the young man handed Beth from the riverbank into the seat of his bamboo raft.
    He watched her sit down carefully, avoiding the spaces between the logs and adjusting the straps of the bathing suit borrowed from Joella. Under the seat she placed a tightly folded plastic bag ( we don’t want it to get wet, she’d told him) with their clothes and money.
    Still on the riverbank, Shad handed a covered basket to the raftsman. “Put the food somewhere safe,” he instructed, and the man passed the basket to Beth.
    â€œYou okay?” Shad yelled at her, but his words were drowned out by the roar of the river filling the valley. Only thirty feet across in its upper reaches, the Rio Grande galloped down the mountain under overhanging trees, lashing at the rocks and coarse gray sand lining the banks.
    â€œYour turn,” the raftsman said, and held out his hand to Shad, who insisted on jumping onto the raft without help. The long, narrow craft lurched and the youth—Carlton was his name, he’d said—sucked his teeth.
    â€œYou ever see my raas claat trial?” the teenager exclaimed as he pushed his pole deep to balance the raft.
    A few yards away, Danny and Janet waited on another raft—the American’s red trunks filling most of the narrow seat. Janet’s hips, threatening to erupt out of a gold bikini, were crammed into the space that was left. At the front of their raft, the raftsman held his long bamboo pole in the water, poised for takeoff.
    â€œLet’s go!” called Carlton, and both boys pushed off with their poles, maneuvering into the center of the river, heading for the ocean.
    â€œI never thought I would ever ride a raft on the Rio Grande,” Beth shouted into Shad’s ear.
    â€œI hear you,” Shad shouted. He arched his back, tried to get comfortable on the bamboo seat, tried to unkink his lower spine, a daily ritual that came with a sagging mattress.
    The invitation from Danny the Saturday evening before had come as a surprise and even caused Shad some confusion. Rafting on the Rio Grande was reserved for people with US dollars to burn, not people like him. But he’d loved the idea and looked forward to telling Beth that night when he got home. It was a good way to end their weekend, which had started badly with Beth’s announcement that she was going into Port Antonio on Monday to look for work.
    â€œLike how my sister still living there,” she’d said while he was eating breakfast, “she can help me inquire around.” She’d sat down opposite, putting the baby on her lap and a bowl of mashed banana in front of him. Shad had kept buttering his johnnycake, the fried roll he loved.
    Beth put a spoonful of mashed banana into Joshua’s mouth. “Valerie tell me she hear of something with a lady in a big house, cleaning and washing. She tell the woman her sister looking for a job.”
    Plastering guava jelly on the johnnycake, Shad pictured Rickia seated at the bar counter doing homework while he poured a drink for a customer, Joshua on his hip. “Sound like more than inquiring around to me,” he said. “You talking about interviewing for a job. You talking about leaving me in charge of Rickia and Joshua while you working.”
    â€œI tell you I make the arrangements already,” she insisted. “You don’t have nothing to do.”
    Gulping the bread down, Shad held up a warning finger. “You and me know