The Hearts of the Fathers

S R Brown

Description

On the eve of Jamaica’s independence from 300 years of British rule, a girl is killed and the son of a prominent family is accused. A political firestorm is ignited, threatening to consume the country.
George Rosen, heir to his family’s massive fruit orchards, is accused of murdering a poor hotel maid. What should have been a legal issue, easily handled in the courts, blows up into a political firestorm, threatening to c0nsume everything in its path. It is 1962, and the brutal crime shocks the Caribbean nation of Jamaica as it stands on the eve of independence, after 300 years of British rule.
A power struggle between the land-rich families and the radical socialists, threatens a culture war, a ripping away of the thin veneer of a class-conscious, color-sensitive society. As the father of the dead girl's baby, George is desperate to find his child even as his life hangs in the balance.

Three other fathers, just as desperate, tethered in unforeseen ways, are also in the cauldron of this crime: George’s father, the formidable Norman Rosen, unwavering in his faith, who puts Godly principles above all other concerns; Tony Khampala, the young English barrister, with his shrewd legal mind and political astuteness, comes to the troubled island to bring fire control. But his unreconciled past with the Rosen family makes him vulnerable and unpredictable. Then there is Elias Khan, the imposing custody sergeant who is a walking enigma – no one understands his blind protectiveness of George.
Each of these men asks, how far should a father go to protect his child? And how far is not far enough? The answers mean life on this island paradise will never be the same.

Sujets

• Jamaica
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: LifeRich Publishing
• Date de parution: 11 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781489744937
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

THE HEARTS of the FATHERS
SR BROWN


Copyright © 2022 SR Brown.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.
 
 
LifeRich Publishing
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
 
Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
 
ISBN: 978-1-4897-4459-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4897-4458-6 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4897-4493-7 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022919660
 
 
 
LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 11/08/2022
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
PART I
1 A Message in the Dawn
2 A Path of Small Steps
3 A Simple Choice
4 Falmouth
5 A Garden of Blooms and Thorns
6 Slow Burn
7 What’s In A Name?
8 Goshen Valley
9 A Long Dirt Road
10 Falling Rain
11 Serendipity
12 The Complaint
13 The Burden of Kindness
14 On Dove’s Wings
15 The Face of Fury
16 A Difference of Perspective
17 High Winds
18 Half -Light
19 Recompense
20 Things Unseen
21 Shadows of Turning
22 The Ways of Man
23 Midnight Cry
PART II
24 Hearts in Conflict
25 The Ties That Bind
26 The Image of the Father
27 Comes a Kinsman
28 Jagged Edges
29 Low Hanging Fruits
30 Keeping Thy Brother
31 The Bride Price
32 Twilight
33 Fallowed Ground
34 Pursuing Happiness
35 Truth VS Facts
36 The Other Side
37 Call It Grace
 
Epilogue
About the Author
Dedication
To Amy and Hayes Oliveras for their many kindnesses; so many, only The Lord can make an accurate accounting.
Acknowledgements
Thank-you to David & Laverne Brown for championing this book in real and immeasurable terms.
Thank-you to Sam Lightbourne and Ann Khim for their encouragement from the very beginning.
Thank-you to Juliet Lewis, a faithful friend, who was the first to read my scribbles in college.

And he will turn
The hearts of the fathers to
        the children,
And the hearts of the children
        to their fathers,
Lest I come and strike the
        earth with a curse.
Mala chi 4:6, NKJV

“Family dysfunction makes for rich literary soil…
Betrayals cut more deeply, pain lingers longer, and
memory becomes a timeless thing.
For a writer, this is a gift.”
John Hart, Down River
‘Show me a family that’s not dysfunctional and I
will show you the Holy Trinity - the only perfect
family.’
(Paraphrased)
Dr. Tony Evans, The Urban Alternative Ministry
Prologue
George Rosen would always remember the last time he was happy. Truly happy. It was last time he saw the future as it used to be: a broad road under an arched cerulean sky, a road stretched to the horizon, banked by meadows and wildflowers, paved with the precious gems of his dreams. He was his father’s beloved son, the heir to his father’s personal wealth and to the family’s massive citrus orchards. He believed in the God who blessed his ancestors and prospered his family, who bestowed upon him talents, abilities and a keen mind. He believed there was nothing he could not accomplish, no challenge he could not meet, no obstacle he could not overcome. He was limited only by his imagination, and at eighteen, it was as limitless as the possibilities before him.
It was the Christmas of 1960, and George came home to Jamaica after his first semester at Columbia University in New York. He had done well, better than expected for a freshman. Architectural Engineering was his planned major, and he carried a full-course load: five classes, including Introduction to Modern Design, Calculus and Physics. He was going to be an engineer like his father and someday take over the construction firm his father founded in the 1920’s. With his perfect 4.0 average he made the Dean’s List, and his proud father gave him an early Christmas present: a red two-seater Triumph. Brand new. It stood in the driveway near the hibiscus tree, the floras reflected in the rich, glossy finish became a garland to mark the day.
The gi ft had stunned him. “Papa...” he said, pronouncing it the way the British upper class did, with long vowels. “Is this for me?”
He had to be sure. How many times did his father tell him that if he wanted a new car, he would have to buy it himself? There were already a total of five automobiles in the family, not including the fleet of farm vehicles, and his father did not see the need for another one, new or used. Norman Rosen was not foolish with money; not foolish, period. And though he was not prone to extravagance, he had his moments, when he was pleased or deeply moved. And this clearly was one of those moments.
“I couldn’t wait for Christmas to give it to you.” His father’s hand rested on George’s back. “I am proud of the work you did at school.”
For a moment everything around George faded, including the car. He basked in the glow of his father’s pride and approval. He was overwhelmed and fell into his father’s spontaneous embrace; his head resting on his father’s shoulder. In that embrace he was like a sheet of paper folded neatly into an envelope, protected and secured. He was tall like his father but reedy; his body trying to shake off the last signs of adolescence. His father in comparison was hard and solid, an ageless oak. As a child, George was told that he was as pretty as his sisters – he never liked hearing that. He wanted to look like his father, a tough Jew who suffered no fools and no one dared to cross, even after second thoughts. George knew he favored his mother. Marcia Rosen was the daughter of an East Indian mother and a father who was a mixed race black. She was the perfect blend of both, tall and elegant, a natural beauty.
She was there that day too, standing on the steps of the veranda, smiling at her son’s reaction to the gift. George would remember the stylish blue dress she wore, the sleeves and collar trimmed in white lace. At forty-eight she still could turn heads. His parents were going to some function or the other that evening.
“Mum, you didn’t say a word.” George hugged her. The smell of her perfume – he would remember that, too.
She held his face in her hands and kissed his cheek. “We wanted this to be a real surprise.”
It was. Then he remembered saying something rather silly. He asked if he could take the car to the Christmas party. His parents looked at each other and laughed. He was still such a little boy. “You goose,” his mother said. “Of course you can take the car. It’s yours .”
The party was at the home of his friend Moshe Cohen’s. Moshe’s legendary Christmas parties were a tradition. Every year on the second Saturday before Christmas, Moshe’s parents let him and his friends have the run of the house, from four in the afternoon until midnight. There was only one stipulation: don’t break anything. Anyone who committed this grievous offense was never invited back. There was enough food to feed a starving army and music so loud the chandeliers swayed. And Moshe invited everybody he knew. If he met you the day before the party, you were invited and told you, ‘by the way, bring a friend.’ Moshe believed in ‘the more the merrier.’ Every year he promised his parents he would keep down the number of guests, and every year it went up. But he was their only child, so what were they to do?
George and Moshe had been friends since infancy. They were born just a month a part and were inseparable all through school. Their Jewish fathers were friends since their days at Cambridge University and their mothers were the best of friends. Kenneth Cohen’s law firm handled all of Norman Rosen’s legal work. Like all the others who were invited to the party that afternoon, they were all interconnected, socially, professionally and politically. They were the island’s ruling class, the whites and near-whites, the mixed-race Indians and Chinese, the diluted blacks with fair skin, straight hair and straighter noses. Like the ripe coffee beans gathered on the slopes of the Blue Mountain, they were bright red and yellow and golden brown. They were less than five percent of the population holding more than ninety percent of the country’s wealth. They saw themselves as little Englishmen, title-less nobles, only richer than those lords who couldn’t afford to heat their crumbling, stately homes. They were all school chums, or neighbors, or friends through their pare