The Next Adventure

by Janice Horton

  ‘So, this is a good card? It looks kind of scary to me.’ I told her.

  ‘There are no good or bad cards in tarot. But there’s a warning here. It’ll be much harder than you think to achieve your goal. You’ll need lots of determination to bring about the change.’

  I nodded in understanding. I agree. Because nothing good comes from something easy.

  The third card now under her scrutiny is a King. He’s seated on a throne while holding a stick. The stick has leaves growing out of it and so I feel this card must be some kind of omen.

  ‘The King of Wands is powerful and successful. He is honest and trustworthy.’

  This card, I decided, must represent Ethan. I waited to be told more with bated breath.

  ‘You must look for a person of high authority and seek their advice. This will help you.’

  Suddenly, under a wave of realisation, I suspect she might be referring to Tom!

  The next card she considers is one that shows a naked woman dancing with various creatures around her and the four elements of fire and water and air and earth. The card is marked: The World. ‘This is a major Arcana card and one that symbolises your ultimate success. The World card assures you that you will indeed achieve the changes that you want and as a result your world will be changed for the better. It shows fulfilment and a satisfactory ending but also a new beginning.’ Then she sat back and smiled at me. ‘That will be ten dollars, please.’

  I thanked her and gave her a twenty dollar note, waving my hand to show that I wasn’t expecting ten dollars back. She tucked the note straight away into her bra for safekeeping.

  On my way out, I handed over five dollars to the little girl who looked delighted.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw her mother quickly claiming it from her.

  I trust to buy her food rather than sweeties.

  In a small boutique at the corner of the street, I found a light cotton wrap dress with a batik frangipani flower design. It caught my eye immediately. I tried it on and loved it and bought it together with a pair of colour coordinating flip-flops.

  Then, back at my hotel, I quickly showered and washed my hair.

  I was all ready and dressed for 6 p.m., so I wandered upstairs to the open terrace where there was a bar called Sundowners. I ordered a cocktail and for the second time I felt privileged to watch the sun going down over The Pitons. As well as the famous peaks, I also had a clear view of the street from the terrace, so I could sit on my stool and sip my drink and watch out for Tom’s arrival at the same time. At six-thirty exactly, a motorbike roared up the street and stopped outside The Loverlie Hotel. I looked down and watched the rider with interest.

  I saw that it was indeed my King of Wands.

  And he was obviously expecting me to ride pillion!

  I slurped the last of my drink and hurried down to meet him.

  Tom was smartly dressed in dark trousers and a short-sleeved cotton shirt with a collar. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and he looked me up and down, not in a lustful way in my opinion, but by way of admiration and assessment. ‘Lori! Hey, nice dress. You look wonderful!’

  ‘What you really mean is can I get my leg over your bike in this dress?’ I laughed.

  He handed me the spare helmet he was carrying.

  ‘Hold on to me nice and tight!’ he instructed as I hitched up my dress and swung my leg over the seat. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and we sped off down the street. The vibration from the roaring engine reverberated right through my body. Tom’s body felt warm and hard and strong beneath his shirt and I felt completely safe with him as we speeded around the bends and along the winding uphill road. He was a competent rider and it was so exhilarating to be on a motorbike. It also felt like a wonderful respite from the oppressive heat of the evening to have a blowing wind to cool us down. It was so much fun. I haven’t done anything quite like this since I was a teenager when I defied my mother by accepting lifts from boys with motorbikes.

  It was quite dark as we reached the restaurant. The Tropical Parrot was a low stone building perched at the top of the hill and it looked so pretty and so lush in its jungle setting. Strings of twinkly lights had been wrapped around the trunks of the palm trees that lined the path to the entrance and along the outside trellises too. There were tubs of tropical flowers everywhere.

  It looked quite magical. With our helmets placed aside, we walked down the twinkling pathway to a cacophony of croaking tree frogs, and into the restaurant to be warmly greeted by the Maître d’. The place was busy and at each table sat well-dressed couples chatting intimately together over a candle, a sprig of fresh tropical foliage, extravagant food and a bottle of wine. Soft music with a reggae vibe played in the background and the atmosphere was filled with subtle chatter and flavoursome aromas as waiters whisked past us carrying plates aloft, leaving a trail of delicious wafts in their wake. We were led over to a little table for two on the outside terrace, where the atmosphere was warm and sultry and, dare I say it, very romantic.

  I was relieved to have made an effort with the dress as this was certainly not a casual venue.

  It also looked to be expensive and, as this absolutely wasn’t a date, I had full intentions of offering to split the bill. We were cordially seated and given a wine list.

  ‘Red or white? Which would you prefer Lori?’ Tom asked me.

  ‘You choose. I really don’t mind.’ I replied. He was being such a gentleman and I didn’t want to risk the fifty percent chance of disappointing him if we were sharing a bottle.

  He ordered a dry white Bordeaux and I thought that a fine choice.

  I glanced around and saw that another couple on a table not too far from us had ordered lobsters and they were just being served. My taste buds immediately sprang into action. Seafood and lobster are my favourite food in the world. I was reminded of a time I was on an island off Malaysia called Langkawi, where I ate the most amazing seafood. I also thought about Ethan, wearing his dive gear while carrying a lobster up the beach that he’d caught for our Christmas dinner last year. Perhaps my sexiest memory out of many sexy memories that I have of him. I gave myself a mental shake back to the present and decided that I really should apologise again to Tom for what had happened today.

  ‘Tom, I have to say that I’m still terribly ashamed, quite mortified actually, about what I did to your wonderful exhibit today. I’m truly sorry. Honestly, I’m not normally such a wimp.’

  He looked at me sympathetically and then shrugged. ‘Well, luckily, all the caterpillars that you stamped on were a common variety. So at least you didn’t make any extinct.’

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at remembering the green squishy carnage.

  Fortunately, the sommelier came over with our wine and the waiter with the menus.

  We tasted the wine and perused our menus while the waiter poured our drinking water.

  The atmosphere seemed quite tense in our silence. Unless it was just me feeling that way.

  ‘The grilled caterpillar with mango salad and the turf and surf for me.’ Tom decided.

  His eyes were shining at me in great amusement as he closed his menu.

  I stared at him in horror

  The waiter looked confused. ‘Sir?’

  Tom was laughing so hard that people were starting to look over to see what was happening.

  I told him that he had a very warped sense of humour but then I had to laugh too.

  ‘Sorry, Lori. I couldn’t resist seeing your face. Of course, I meant the grilled shrimp!’

  ‘I’d also like the grilled shrimp to start and lobster thermidor to follow.’ I said decisively.

  Then, in the soft twinkling lights and flickering of the candle, I asked Tom how long he’d been a butterfly guy.

  ‘Professionally, for twenty years. But I’ve been interested in butterflies since I was a little boy growing up in Puerto Rico, where we have many beautiful varieties. The process of metamorphosis is so fascinating to me. The fact that a
small grub can become such a lovely flying creature is nothing but a miracle. These days I work as a consultant. I’ve been touring with the Butterflies of the Caribbean exhibition all this year. It comes to a close this month, so you came here at just the right time, Lori.’

  While he’s talking, I’m listening but also guessing he might only be a few years younger than me but then his Latino good-looks and his dark tousled hair, together with his rather naughty sense of humour, give him the dangerous aura of someone much younger.

  I decided that if I wasn’t in love with Ethan, I’d have found Tom incredibly exciting.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me about your quest to find the Green Morpho?’ he asked me curiously.

  I took a sip of my wine while I wondered exactly where I should begin.

  ‘Well, we know that in the nineteenth Century, the Green Morpho was once indigenous to an island called Waterfall Cay in the BVIs. When its numbers dwindled, to the extent that it was classed as endangered, an attempt was made by Alfred Russel Wallace to create a sanctuary on the island. But it was too late and the butterfly became extinct. I’m simply hoping to rediscover it.’

  ‘This is fascinating and your research is of great interest to me, Lori. Only, I’m surprised that I’ve not come across your work before, especially as it concerns Wallace?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not an expert. I simply have a theory. And, as I explained to you earlier today, my theory is that the Green Morpho has simply migrated elsewhere. If this is the case, then I’m hoping it can be re-established back to its original home and that a protection order can be petitioned to protect its future there.’

  Tom gave me the same sparkly eyed look of amazement that he’d given me earlier.

  I was thrilled. I was also amazed. I could hardly believe that I was doing this.

  In explaining my plan to him, it made it feel real and viable and actually achievable.

  ‘And, this island in the BVIs, Waterfall Cay, is it special to you in some way?’ He asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s special to me. But not as special as it is to the Green Morpho.’ I answered him while feeling determined to keep the conversation in the vein of conservation and within his realm of expertise. We sipped our deliciously chilled wine and gazed out at the uninterrupted views from our table of the twinkling lights of the town and the harbour below us and across the calm and dark inky waters of the Caribbean Sea. The rhythmic croaking of tree frogs and chirrup of crickets from the flowery foliage filled the sultry and humid air.

  ‘This restaurant, it’s amazing. Thank you for suggesting it.’ I said, feeling more relaxed.

  ‘You’re very welcome. I’ve wanted to eat here since I arrived on the island. But I didn’t want to dine alone. As you can see, it has an intimidating reputation as a couples place.’

  It certainly makes me feel better that Tom had a reason, other than a misplaced romantic gesture, to bring me here. Especially when seeing all the romantic couples around us has my thoughts wandering thousands of miles to the cold and distant Antarctic and then back again.

  My longing for Ethan right at that moment feels like a physical stabbing pain in my heart.

  I imagine him here with me, smiling and laughing and talking and holding my hand, kissing my fingers. I was so taken up that tears filled my eyes and I stifled a little sob. I can’t help it.

  Then, I realise Tom is saying something to me although his voice sounds far away.

  I see he looks a bit panicked and he sounds a little fearful. ‘Lori, are you okay?’

  Poor Tom. Maybe he thinks I’m about to lose it again right here in the restaurant?

  I smile to reassure him I’m fine. ‘Tom, I’m truly grateful for your understanding today.’

  He looked relieved. ‘Oh, it’s fine, really. You were actually very brave today. Going back in, after what happened, it took some gumption. Panic attacks are more common than you think. I know that because I have panic attacks myself on occasion. I too have my fears!’

  I looked at him incredulously. I would never have guessed.

  ‘Is that how you knew what to do and to say to calm me down?’

  He nodded and smiled. ‘Yes. The controlled breathing and counting really helps.’

  ‘I called my mum today.’ I told him.’ She confirmed that I’d had a traumatic experience involving caterpillars falling on me when I was young. I’d forgotten. Or, maybe I’d thought it just a childhood nightmare. But, as it did happen, I suppose it explains my reaction.’

  ‘I made some calls today too,’ he told me, cleverly switching the subject to one he possibly found more agreeable. ‘And I have news of a possible sighting of your giant butterfly.’

  ‘Oh my goodness! Really? That’s fantastic! Where?’

  ‘A friend of mine was doing research on the island of Luminaire. He was deep in the interior, when he said he saw a giant green butterfly that might possibly have been a Green Morpho.’

  I gripped my starched napkin in excitement. ‘Oh, that’s amazing. Did he get a photo?’

  ‘No. He said he only saw it briefly. But it had a large wingspan – easily over six inches across – and it was an iridescent green colour. Only afterwards, he thought he might have been mistaken. He warned me that it might have been a common Blue Morpho, reflecting the green environment. But it’s worth checking out, just in case, don’t you think?’

  ‘Luminaire?’ I queried. ‘Just north of Puerto Rico. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a small island between Tortola and Puerto Rico. Not too far away from the British Virgin Islands, so you could be right.’ Tom continued. ‘Natural migration could be a reason for it being there. Or, equally, the Green Morpho could have been taken there by traders and managed to get free and survive on the island undetected. Luminaire is kind of off-grid these days because of its active volcano.’

  ‘I need to go there as soon as possible!’ I gasped.

  ‘Do you intend on gathering up all the giant caterpillars by yourself?’ Tom teased.

  I tried not to shudder while imagining me filling a bucket full of giant wriggly creatures.

  ‘Yes, of course. If it’s the only way to re-establish them to their original island home.’

  Our appetiser came. It looked delicious. Plates of plump grilled shrimp on a dressed salad.

  ‘Have you ever been to Luminaire before?’ Tom asked me before taking a bite of his shrimp.

  ‘No. But it has a rainforest. So conditions must be very similar to Waterfall Cay. You?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been there. It’s a nature reserve. You should bear in mind that it’s a very undeveloped island and not the easiest of destinations to reach. There’s no direct route. You’d have to get from here to Dominica and then over to Tortola, before connecting to San Juan on Puerto Rico, and then take a ferry boat over to the island.’

  I took out my phone and quickly looked up transportation from St Lucia to Luminaire.

  He was right. There are no direct scheduled flights. I clicked through the options. All of them entailed flying via several other islands, with long waiting times in between, before eventually arriving on San Juan. Then, inconveniently, the final flight arrived far too late in the evening to catch the last ferry boat.

  ‘There might be another way.’ I said, clicking onto an island charter website. ‘I could charter a flight and fly there directly. Because, it now seems that due to the increased popularity of the hiking and nature trail on Luminaire, there’s a new airstrip on the island.’

  Again, I was kind of astonished and amazed at my own words and resourcefulness.

  And also, my unashamed raiding of my own bank account.

  Years ago, when I’d been married to Charles, even though we had our own travel agency, I would never have considered chartering a flight for a client if a scheduled plane wasn’t available or matching up with an itinerary. But since I’ve been with Ethan, who often charters planes as a matter of convenience, I’ve learned to explore all the alternatives and options.

>   ‘Charter a plane? That sounds expensive.’

  I shrugged. ‘Probably no more expensive than taking three separate scheduled flights and a boat. And look at the time that will be saved. I could be there in two hours instead of two days!’

  Tom looked a little perplexed. ‘But, of course, you’ll also need a permit.’

  I wondered what on earth he was talking about. ‘A permit? Why? I have a passport.’

  ‘I mean a special zoological permit that gives you permission to collect flora, fauna, or invertebrates from any of these islands. You can’t just go there and help yourself!’

  I looked at him inquisitively while he thought to arm me with this new information.

  ‘And do you have one of these special permits?’ I asked him curiously.

  He was grinning at me again. ‘Yes, indeed I do. Because I’m a certified zoologist.’

  ‘Does that mean you are offering to come along and help me find the Green Morpho?’

  He was laughing loudly now and he pretended to mop excess sweat from his brow.

  ‘Phew. For a moment there, Lori, I thought you’d never ask!’

  ‘Then we’ll leave tomorrow!’ I enthused, thinking this was going to be quite the adventure.

  Especially, if my tarot reading was anything to go by.

  Chapter 12

  Luminaire

  I couldn’t sleep. I’d been awake most of the night. I was too excited about my next adventure to close my eyes. I was either too hot or too cold and the air-con unit in my room far too noisy. My mind was busy thinking about butterflies and islands and Ethan. I was also a little worried about Tom. Well, maybe not worried, as much as a little concerned about him.

  I sincerely hoped that when it came to light about me going on a nature trail and to a remote island with another man, with whom I would be spending two days and one night in close proximity, that it wouldn’t be misconstrued by Ethan. Not that Ethan was a jealous man.

  But I know how I might feel if he were in the same situation with another woman.

  And, it was undeniable, that Tom was a very sexy looking and handsome consort.