“Ms. Blake?”
Jess’s eyes flew open and Jil stopped touching her long enough for her to answer the phone.
“Yes?” her voice was barely a whisper.
“You’re all set. See you at seven thirty.”
“Thank you.” Jess pressed the end button and looked up.
“More?” Jil said sweetly.
Jess covered Jil’s hand with her own, nudging her back into place. “Please finish before I die.”
Jil smiled and ran her finger back up and down, circling out and in, firmly, gently, drawing Jess out.
She moved her hips up and back, the gentlest and most effective stretching exercise possible, and Jil touched her, a hot, sweet caress, until Jess came with a quiet, “Fuuuuck.”
Chapter Four
As the plane taxied to the runway, a wave of phones came out, and passengers began clicking and messaging, holding their phones up for reception.
Jess rolled her eyes. “We’re on vacation, right?”
“Absolutely,” Jil said. “I may not even have packed my phone.”
“Liar. It’s in your carry-on.”
Jil laughed. “So’s yours.”
Jess sighed and shot her a look. “I used to need mine. I wonder what it’ll be like to be so unneeded.”
Floating. Free-falling through life. No anchor, no ties.
Jil squeezed her arm. “That’ll last five minutes at the most.”
“I hope so.”
The airlock opened and a blast of air swept in, so heavy with moisture it almost swam over them.
Jess pushed out of her seat and took a moment to stretch her legs and arms before reaching for their overhead luggage. The air smelled salty and fresh. She couldn’t wait to get out. A vacation. Beach and oceanfront. Maybe a massage in the sand.
Jil pulled her T-shirt away from her chest and slipped her feet into the flip-flops she’d brought on the plane.
“Vacation time. Let’s get going.”
Jess maneuvered her way down the aisle, holding on to the back of the seats. She felt Jil squeeze in behind her and knew instinctively that she was bracing Jess against the crush of people rushing for the exit.
She always did that—physically moved in to cover the gaps. Fill the holes. Stretch to the places where Jess worried about going.
She breathed out, focusing on navigating the narrow space without feeling like she was being propelled out of the plane.
They joined the throng of people moving through the small airport and down to customs. The line was already thousands deep. Jess sighed and tried to focus on the incremental steps forward and not the screaming protest of her hip joints.
“Hey, did you see that?”
She pointed to a newsstand and Jil squinted, her gaze zeroing in on the image of an orca with its jaws open wide.
“That was so sad,” said a voice behind them.
They turned around to see an older woman looking in the same direction. Her white dreadlocks were tied back in a loose ponytail and her yellow dress swayed with her as she talked.
“Knew that girl’s mother. We was friends in school.”
Jil turned. “What happened?”
The woman shook her head. “Tasha. Beautiful girl. Mad animal lover, ever since she was in diapers. Used to be down at the beach, making animals out of sand instead of castles. Once, she made a whale. It took her all day. All day. And then the tide came in and it started washing away the tail. Oh, was she mad.”
Her eyes crinkled as she smiled.
“And she went to work at the sea aquarium?” Jil asked.
“Yes. Graduated her college course and went for her internship. Oh, she was so excited. We had a party for her on the street. A vegetarian fry-up. It was her favorite. Wouldn’t even eat fish, that girl.” She laughed.
The line moved forward again. They were halfway to the end, Jess noticed. She took a few deep breaths and focused on the woman’s story.
“She started with the animal tanks. Cleaning lobsters and crabs and things. But what she really wanted to do was mammals. The dolphins and the whales. Loved that whale, Tsunami. She worked so many hours, just sitting there on the platform. Just waiting for her to come. She never believed she purposely hurt that other trainer in Curacao.”
Jess and Jil exchanged a look.
“When she took a fish from her, Tasha was so happy. So happy. Came home dancing.”
She stopped talking. She rummaged in her purse for a mint and focused on unwrapping it slowly. Her nose had gotten red.
“Then what happened?” Jil asked gently.
The woman sighed. The line moved forward.
“It’s not for me to say,” she said, nearly a whisper. “Nothing but rumors.”
Jil waited.
The line moved forward again.
The old woman sighed. “She was with a boy. Her mother didn’t like him. That’s all.”
“Why didn’t she like him?”
“He was older. He took too many risks, not like Tasha.” She took a deep breath, pressing the Kleenex to her nose. “We all miss her, that’s all.”
“I can’t imagine,” Jil said.
Jess watched the way she stood close, but not crowding the old woman. The way she put one hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“And then last week, her mother got the call. She’d been killed at the sea aquarium. One of the saddest days I can remember for a long time.”
The line had opened. The woman gestured toward the booth.
“Looks like it’s your turn.”
“Next!”
“Where can we find you, if we feel like a tour of the island?”
The woman pulled out a card. “Here. Look me up.”
Margot’s Fish Restaurant.
They moved to the counter, giving the woman a wave over their shoulders. She lifted her chin in parting and they moved through Customs and into the circus of luggage claim.
Everyone was moving around the carousel, grabbing suitcases and duffel bags. A whistle pierced the air and a hound pulled on its lead, darting in and out of luggage. It leaped over carts, smelling, trotting, and finally sat down next to a large blue bag.
Two women in crisp, short-sleeved uniforms and caps closed in and took the bag.
A young man with wide eyes watched them.
“Is this yours?”
He nodded.
“Come with us, please.”
Meanwhile, Jil had loaded their luggage onto a cart. Now she grabbed Jess’s arm and pulled her out into the waiting taxi stand.
“What was that?”
Jil shrugged. “Drugs, I guess? Maybe chocolate bars?”
She remembered being snagged by a police dog when she got off a plane in Auckland, a half-eaten Oh Henry still in her purse. “You never know what a country is particular about.”
The sun was almost white in the sky, and Jess began to sweat.
“You doing okay?” Jil asked.
“I’ll be glad to get there.”
They scanned the crowd, looking for their names.
“There.”
A short man with black hair and a wide smile waved as they approached.
“You must be Jil.”
“I am.”
“I’m Ramone.”
Jess liked him. His accent was so mixed that she couldn’t identify where he was from, but his smile went all the way into the crinkles of his forehead, and she grinned.
“I work for the sea aquarium. I’ll be taking you ladies to your hotel.”
He led them to a Jeep that looked like it had been on the road before they were born.
Jil helped Jess into the front seat, then swung herself through the back window and onto the back bench.
“You must be able to eat a horse.”
Jil and Jess exchanged a look. “Um, yeah, I’m hungry,” Jil admitted.
Jess realized her own stomach was rumbling too.
Ramone grinned. “Good. Then let me introduce you to my mother.”
<
br /> He pushed the pedal to the floor, and soon they were winding down a pothole-covered road, in and out of vegetation that alternated between cacti and the most luscious leaves Jess had ever seen. He banked a hard right and skidded to a stop outside a blue-sided hut. They were hit with the smell of cinnamon and sugar.
Jess’s mouth watered. “What is that?”
“Churros.”
An old woman with a braid of white hair and a missing front tooth waved at them.
“Hola.”
“My mother,” Ramone said. “Have a seat.”
He approached the window and said something in Spanish. A child popped out from a lower cupboard. He held an old style Polaroid camera and closed one eye as he snapped their picture.
“What did I tell you about that?” Ramone said. “Ask before you take pictures of strangers! They might not like it. And don’t waste that film. It’s expensive!”
“Sorry, Papa.”
“Never mind sorry. Just remember what I tell you.”
He pulled the young boy out of the trailer and plunked him down on one of the two picnic tables in the yard.
“Come. Sit. Meet my son, Emilio.”
“Emi,” said the boy. He grinned, and his smile was exactly like his father’s.
“Hi,” Jess said.
“Hi. Sorry I took your picture without asking.”
“Can I see it?”
He waved it expertly to help the development process, an action that reminded Jess of her childhood when Polaroids were all the rage.
Apart from her half-closed eyelids, and Jil’s hair covering her face, it wasn’t a bad photo.
Jil looked at it and laughed. “Don’t quit your day job, kid.”
“Don’t quit your day job…” Ramone mused over this, like he’d just been given a new piece of jewelry.
“It means that…”
Emi looked at her, eyebrows raised.
“Um…”
“It means,” Jess cut in. “Keep practicing, kid. And one day you’ll be a pro.”
He grinned.
A few minutes later, they were presented with two steaming piles of cinnamon sugar churros and several scoops of vanilla ice cream.
Jil met her eyes. “Wow.”
Ramone smiled. “Welcome to St. Emeline.”
“Papa, you’re going to work now?”
“Sí.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No. I told you, you’re staying with Abuela.”
“But it’s boring. I miss the dolphins. I miss swimming with Relay. And Tsunami needs her fish. It’s my day job. I’m coming with you. Please, Papa.”
“No. I’m not telling you again, Emilio. Peligroso. Hear me? You stay here.”
The boy crossed his arms and sulked.
Jil leaned in. “What’s peligroso?” she whispered.
Jess waited until Ramone had bent down to talk to the boy again, then whispered, “Dangerous.”
* * *
By the time they arrived at their beachfront hotel, dusk had fallen and the beaches had emptied.
Jil raised her cocktail. A piece of pineapple pressed against a maraschino cherry balanced on the rim. “Cheers to the best working vacation ever.”
Jess raised her glass and clinked it with Jil’s. They each took a sip.
Jil’s mouth puckered. “Gah. That’s sweet.”
“Holy crap, you’re not kidding.” Jess stuck out her tongue, gagging.
“Right, I’ll open the wine then.”
Jil headed to the kitchen, skidding in her flip-flops on the tile floor.
“Careful.”
“This place is gleaming. I mean, look at this thing. What is it, a microwave or an oven?”
Jess watched her peering at the chrome rectangle set into the wall and suppressed a smile. Jil was not exactly known for her culinary skills. But this high-tech kitchen wasn’t what she had expected from island life either.
“What time is it, anyway? The clock here says four a.m.”
Jess laughed. “I’d venture to say that’s incorrect. Hang on.”
She reached for her phone and waited while it switched on.
“God, Jil, I have five messages.”
Jil picked another piece of pizza out of the box on the counter and shot her a quizzical look.
“Who from?”
Jess opened the phone history. Rockford Memorial Hospital. Five missed calls.
She dialed in quickly to her voice mail. Scanned through the messages, each one increasing in urgency. She didn’t even listen to the last one. Instead, she hung up, then dialed the hospital.
“Yes, this is Jessica Blake. Dr. Rabinovitch, please.”
As she waited, tears pooled in her eyes. Was Mitch dying? Dead already?
She felt Jil come up behind her, and she leaned into her arms, letting Jil’s strength hold her together for a moment.
“Jessica? It’s Howie Rabinovitch.”
“Howie. I’m in St. Emeline. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.” She began to cry.
“Jessica. Hey, sweetie, not yet. We’re not gonna cry yet, okay? Here’s the problem.”
Jess took the Kleenex that Jil handed her and held it to her nose. “Okay. Okay. Tell me.”
“He’s got an infection, okay? From two places. One is his PICC line and the other’s his G-tube site. Not sure what’s causing the problem here, but his fever spiked pretty high this afternoon which is why we were trying to get hold of you.”
“Did it come down?”
“It did. The antibiotics seem to be working for now, but I’m not sure that’s going to be a permanent solution.”
“What else could happen?”
Dr. Rabinovitch sighed. She could picture his frown. His hands stroking his beard as he searched for words.
“I’m afraid what we might be looking at is sepsis, Jess. He’s been immobile for a long time. The bedsores on his back and glutes are a constant battle. Now he’s rejecting the G-tube and PICC line. I think it’s only a matter of time.”
Jess let it sink in. Imagined him lying there, his body turning on itself. “You mean he’s dying.”
“Not today,” Dr. Rabinovitch said. “But yes, I think we need to talk about this. Soon. Discuss his final directives. When are you back?”
“We just landed,” Jess whispered. She felt weak, sick. Jil held her closer. “I’m not sure when I can get back.”
“Even if it’s a few days, we’ve got some time,” Dr. Rabinovitch said. “That’s sort of what I’m getting at, Jess. This could go on for a long time if we let it. So we need to talk about whether or not we let it.”
Jess hung up, then sank onto the couch. Ever since her husband’s accident five years ago, she had been imagining this moment, preparing for it. The day when his coma would end and he would wake up, or his body would give up, and he’d die.
She breathed out a long breath. The pizza and sweet booze were not sitting well.
Jil squeezed her tight.
“How soon do you need to leave? I can get us a connecting flight tomorrow.”
Jess nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.” She pulled a pillow into her chest. From the kitchen came the sound of the kettle hitting the stovetop. The knob turning.
“He’s dying, Jil.”
“I’m so sorry, Jess. I know it’s awful.”
Jil grabbed her iPad and began typing and scrolling.
“Only one seat left in coach. Let me check business class.”
Jess listened to the water heating, a slow rumble.
How soon would it be? How quickly could she get there?
“None left in business.”
She looked up. “Coach is fine.”
Jil looked at her. “There’s just one seat left.”
“Better take it then.”
“Don’t you want me to come with you?”
“No. You’ve got a job to do. You stay here.”
Jil turned back to her iPad and punched in her credit card number. “
We can call the airline in the morning and make the switch,” she muttered. “But it’s reserved for now.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter Five
Jil woke up at five. The first rays of pink were starting to gleam in the sky. Jess had spent most of the night up pacing or tossing and turning in the bed. Neither of them had slept very well.
She pulled her hair into a top knot as she left the cool air-conditioned bedroom for the humidity of the living space. Jess was on the balcony with a cup of coffee, watching the ocean.
Yesterday, they’d been so excited and full of vacation glee. Today, everything seemed bleak and lonely.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and headed out to the balcony.
“Hey.”
Jess glanced up, then back at the ocean.
“Ramone texted to say he’d be here in a few minutes.”
“Did you fill him in?”
Jil shook her head. “No. I wanted to make sure you didn’t want me to come with you.”
“What would be the point?” Jess snapped. “It’s going to be bad enough for me to pace the hallways and wait.”
Jil took a deep breath. Jess didn’t mean to be hurtful. “That’s why I thought maybe you could use some support,” she said quietly.
With a small chuckle, Jess turned away. “Jil, I love you, but sitting still and playing the supporting role isn’t exactly your strong suit. You’d better just stay and get the job done. Keep moving. That’s what you’re good at.”
Jil just stood there for a moment. Mitch was a topic she couldn’t touch, apparently. A past self, a past life, that had no place for Jil in it.
“What are you going to do, exactly?” she asked. “Sit and hold his hand?”
It came out far more sarcastic than she’d meant. Why had she said that?
Jess looked at her, shocked. “For a start,” she said.
“Jess, you’re going home to say good-bye to someone you loved. Or love.” She realized she didn’t even know how Jess felt about him. “Don’t you think that’s a place where you’d want your partner?”
Jess turned to face Jil. “You think I should bring my lesbian partner to the hospital where my comatose husband is dying? With my mother-in-law’s pious prayer group breathing down our necks, reminding me of what a sinner I am? How I’ve desecrated the marriage vows I’ve made in the worst way? How I’ve betrayed my husband?”
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