Punch's Cousin, Chapter 89

Naasir tapped gently on the warped door of the shack.


“Go ‘way!” Marjani shouted from inside. “We got sickness.”

“Marjani, it is I, Naasir. I’ve brought some gifts from Mr. and Mrs. Halifax and the doctor and His Lordship.”

The door opened a crack and Marjani peeked through. “Can’t let you in, Naasir.” She shook her head.

“I’m not afraid.” Naasir smiled warmly.

“Honey, we got sickness here. It’s not fittin’ for you to come in and risk getting’ it.”

“If it’s fitting for you to be in there, then, it’s fitting that I should be as well.” Naasir said gently.

Marjani opened the door.

“Thank you,” Naasir nodded, entering the cold shack. “There’s not even a fire in here.”

“What do we need a fire for?” Marjani answered exhaustedly. “Nontle and Kirabo are burnin’ up as it is.”

“What about you? You must be freezing.” Naasir took his coat off and placed it over Marjani’s shoulders. “Here, this will keep you warm.”

“What ‘bout you?” Marjani shook her head. “I can’t take your coat.”

“It’s my gift to you.” Naasir smiled.

“How ya doin’?” Marjani asked. “Heard you was burned in the fire when you rescued His Lordship.”

“I’m much improved, thank you.” Naasir smiled. “I will die in fire. I know that. Twice now, a fire has tried to take my life, and twice it has failed. The third time will mean my end, but not until I accomplish what has been written.”

Marjani nodded. “I understand. Mine will come in a wash of blue. I know this to be true. And, there ain’t nothin’ here that’s blue. All we got is the brown of the dirt and the red of my baby’s blood.”

“They are not improved, then?” Naasir asked, looking toward the cots where Marjani’s daughter and son-in-law lay—their chests rattling.

“No.” Marjani answered, tears welling in her eyes. “Such sufferin’. I didn’t think it possible that the Holy Mother would let such sufferin’ come to pass. Haven’t we all suffered ‘nuff? For their young lives to be cut like this…”

“Great suffering on this earth will mean that their salvation will be all the sweeter.” Naasir said, putting his arms around Marjani.

She wept into his shoulder for several minutes.

“Now,” Naasir said softly, after awhile. “Perhaps these gifts will make you all feel more comfortable.”

“Why are they sendin’ gifts?” Marjani wiped her eyes.

“Because they care for you.” Naasir smiled. “And, it is Christmas.” He pointed to the three-legged stool in the corner and gestured for Marjani to sit.

She did so, and Naasir knelt at her feet. From the large wicker basket that he’d brought with him, he produced a beautiful quilt with an intricate pattern of emerald green, gold, russet and cream.

Marjani’s eyes widened.

“Mrs. Halifax made this with her own hands.” Naasir smiled. “She told me to bring it to you with her thanks for all you did to care for the doctor and His Lordship.”

“It’s too fine,” Marjani shook her head.

“She would be offended if you did not accept it.” Naasir said firmly.

“For your children, she sent these sachets of lavender so that the room would smell sweet for them and so that their souls would be soothed.” He offered several sweet sachets to Marjani who placed them atop the quilt on her lap.

“How kind.” Marjani smiled.

“Mr. Halifax sends you a practical gift.” Naasir continued as he pulled a coin purse from the basket. “These will help you in the future.” He shook the bag so that the coins jingled. “It is his wish that you will be free one day. When you are, these will help you and your granddaughter start anew.”

“I can’t.” Marjani shook her head.

“You must,” Naasir said, placing the bag on her lap.

“Dr. Halifax has sent two things for you. The first is this medicine. He prepared it himself. It is to help clear the lungs and provide some relief in their breathing.” Naasir handed Marjani a small brown bottle. “The second is this Bible. It was his mother’s.”

“I can’t read.” Marjani said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Maybe so, but in you there are many words which will one day tell a tale of greatness and bravery. Perhaps your own hand will not write it, but your story will be told. This book is the first step in telling that tale.”

“I can never repay these kindnesses.” Marjani sniffed.

“Marjani, they are repaying you for your kindness.” Naasir smiled. “Now, Mr. Punch has sent you two things as well. The first is a gift of his own.” Naasir pulled a small brass bell from the basket—the bell that Julian had found in England before their journey.

“This bell was once worn on Mr. Punch’s hat when he was but a mere puppet. He sends it to you so that by hearing its jingle, you will know that you, too, will be free and transformed one day.”

Marjani smiled. “I miss Mr. Punch.”

“And, he misses you.” Naasir nodded. “The second is a gift of Mr. Punch’s selection based on what he thought His Lordship would want you to have.” From the basket, Naasir removed a small, red velvet box and handed it to Marjani. “Open it.”

With shaking hands, Marjani opened the box to reveal a fine cameo, set in gold and surrounded by small pearls. From the coral-colored center, a woman in profile looked regally toward the east.

Marjani gasped.

“This was made by Lord Fallbridge himself—every bit of it. Mr. Punch knows that his Lordship would want you to have this. He sends it with the heartfelt thanks of both himself and Lord Julian.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Marjani began to cry again.

“Say nothing, Marjani.” Naasir patted her knee. “I know what’s in your heart.” He rose and closed the basket. “Now, I must return to the Halifax House. Mr. Punch and the doctor will be expecting me.”

“Please tell them how…how…”

“I will.” Naasir smiled. “If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

“I do.” Marjani nodded.

Naasir gently kissed her on the forehead and started for the door. He paused. “I almost forgot.” He smiled. “This is from me.” From his pocket, he removed a red pouch. “You know what it is.”

With that, Naasir walked out into the cool evening.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Marjani placed the gifts she’d been given gently on the stool. Taking the red pouch, she tucked it under the mattress where her children lay.

“We done got some hope,” She wept.

Meanwhile, at Cecil and Adrienne’s house, Mr. Punch was absent-mindedly scratching the dog’s stomach as he watched Robert reading by the fire. Robert felt Mr. Punch’s gaze upon him and looked up, smiling.

“There are more pleasant things in this room to study than my face, dear Punch.”

“Dunno.” Punch shrugged. “You’re not so bad.”

“Is something on your mind?” Robert closed the book.

“Restless, I am.” Mr. Punch frowned. “Wanna get up outta this bed and do somethin’.”

“Remember when I was ill and you insisted that I be still and recover?”

“Hmm.” Punch grunted.

“Well, then…”

“Can we sing?”

“Not presently.” Robert chuckled. “My voice is not quite back yet. Besides, Fuller is sleeping up the corridor; we don’t wish to disturb him before Father Christmas arrives.”

“Oh.” Mr. Punch nodded as if that made perfect sense. He sighed. “Barbara and Adrienne sure been talkin’ a long time. Don’t suppose Barbara’s done nothin’ to her.”

“I don’t think so.” Robert shook his head. “If anything, Adrienne has influenced Barbara for the good.”

“Don’t know if that’s possible.” Mr. Punch frowned again.

“Well, we can hope.”

“Where’s Cecil?” Mr. Punch asked.

“I imagine he’s in the studio. He’s been trying to finish those figures he’s been working on in time for the Cages’ masquerade ball.”

“Wonder if he painted me head yet.” Mr. Punch squinted. “You know, me puppet head.”

“I suppose you’ll have to wait and see. Perhaps you’ll receive a surprise for Christmas.”

“Ohhh.” Mr. Punch cooed. “Here, someone’s comin’. Maybe it’s Adrienne.”

The door to the room opened.

Mr. Punch’s face fell. Instead of Adrienne entering, he was surprised to see Nanny Rittenhouse.

“Lord Fallbridge,” The Nanny smiled. “I’ve been so worried about you…”



Did you miss Chapters 1-88? If so, you can read them here.