by Zee Monodee
He started the car and drove out of the airport onto the motorway, Lara’s directions being to follow the dual carriageway all the way to the North and Grand Baie, before taking the main road of the coastal village to reach Cap Malheureux, where he would find the Marivaux villa.
Trent let his thoughts wander as he hit the motorway, the scenery of thriving cane fields bordering the road running almost all the way from the southeast to the north.
From what he’d gathered of Diya’s talks, Lara Marivaux was a tough cookie. Not as tough as their mother, she’d said, but still unbending and rigid where her family members were concerned.
He faced Lara’s even, dark eyes an hour later.
No wonder the handsome doctor had fallen for her, for she was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her hair gleamed darker than Diya’s, midnight black, her eyes larger. One of the few women who didn’t have to crane her neck in tricky angles to peer up at him, she held his stare without qualm. A blue caftan draped her willowy, graceful body, only her slightly rounded hips betraying the fact she’d had children.
There was no real or striking air of resemblance between the two sisters, yet, she had the same soft jaw line as Diya, and her gaze bore just as intense.
The penetrating intensity never left him even after she’d invited him to settle in a deep wicker sofa in the large, bougainvillea-shaded patio running the length of one side of the sprawling, Mexican-style villa. Feeling awkward, as if he were in the hot seat, he stifled the urge to wring his hands, occupied with a glass of ice-cold lemonade.
“I hope my children have behaved themselves.”
She smiled, and some measure of softness touched her eyes and features. “They’ve been adorable.”
“Thank goodness.” The first impression of his family had been a good one.
“You’ve done a good job with them.”
Had she complimented him? She couldn’t have said anything to make him prouder. “Thank you.”
“Diya is down at the beach with them and my own two. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind your company.”
He nodded, and after placing the glass back on the table, left before her debilitating scrutiny zoomed back on him.
A stone-paved path, flanked by blooming bushes of hibiscus and other colourful flowers, led down to the beach. The plants’ protective shade kept the stone cool under the harsh tropical sun. Where the path ended, he emerged onto a wide expanse of white sand, the soft waves of the crystal-clear seawater lapping the shore a dozen yards away.
The sounds of the water and the light breeze rustling through filao trees soothed a part of him he hadn’t realized needed soothing, and he stopped to breathe in the salty, tangy air.
Giggles and squeals of laughter caught his attention, and he turned towards the merry sounds.
Diya sat on the sand with a gurgling toddler in her lap, a colourful beach ball next to them. The little boy threw sand up, and she laughed as she brushed the specks on her cheek. Matthew busied himself a few feet away, building a huge sand castle, and Josh sat next to a cute, blonde little girl. The boy seemed entranced by her, until they started bickering.
Diya settled the toddler down on the open towel and stepped up to calm the fight. The sun caught on her golden skin, which mesmerized Trent as he watched the play of the light upon her body.
He’d never before seen her in such minute apparel, and blimey, she took his breath away. Fire erupted in his loins, and he groaned. Why did she have to appear so desirable? The soft curves of her hips invited a man’s hands to caress them, her tiny waist and slim legs and thighs pure temptation, an invitation for testosterone to run wild and rampant.
He’d have to keep his desire at bay, at least for the moment. For one day, he would make love to her, and that day, she’d be his, and his alone, forever ...
With the resolution firmly in mind, he strode towards her. Matthew saw him first and called out. Diya lifted her head, and a soft glow spread on her features when she saw him.
Could she be happy to see him?
“You made it,” she said.
He sat down by her side. “I got here twenty minutes ago. Your sister pinned me in the house with her inquisitive stare.”
She chuckled. “If you escaped alive, it means she likes you.”
“Blimey, I wonder what it would be like if she didn’t like me.”
She laughed again, and he wondered how an inflection of her voice could prove so beautiful, like the peaceful tinkles of those wind chimes people liked to hang in front of windows.
“These are her children?” he asked with a nod towards the two with his sons.
“Yes. This is Emilie, and this is Thomas.”
Emilie shot him a wide grin, before she nudged Josh in the ribs. “You hit my Barbie.”
“Did not!”
“Did, too!”
Another fight started, and Diya had to physically step in to separate them. “Okay, you two. That’s it. No more fighting, or we go back to the house.”
The fight died down.
“Why don’t you go help Matthew with his castle?”
Josh and Emilie trudged to Matthew’s side. Thomas picked his beach ball. After walking up to Trent, the toddler dropped the big ball in his lap.
An amused expression came over Diya’s face.
“He wants you to play with him. Shoot it around so he can run and catch it. It’s his favourite game.”
The little boy gave him a toothy grin, and Trent’s heart clutched. He still remembered his own sons at that age, such little kids being absolutely adorable, when they wanted to cooperate, that is. He grinned back. Scrambling to his feet, he shot the ball a few feet away, his heart light as the kid laughed and ran on chubby legs.
Thomas came back with the ball, and Trent sent it rolling again. Sweat started to drip down his back, the hot rays burning through the fabric of his clothes. He stepped out of his shoes and pulled the jumper over his head.
Diya gaped at him. “What are you doing?”
Elation coursed through him at the flustered note in her voice. He kept his attention on her as he stripped down to the swimming trunks he’d worn under his jeans.
She never once moved her attention from his body, and a blush coloured her cheeks.
Perfect, if this happened to be the effect he could have on her. One more point in his favour, and less chance Diya would drop him like a hot potato when he played his final card.
But an hour later, he wasn’t sure if stripping down around her had been such a good idea. He sat on a stool in the kitchen, Diya hovering over his back.
“It hurts,” he said as she rubbed aloe vera gel on his burnt shoulder.
“Should’ve thought of it when you were baking in the sun without any protection.”
“I’ve never been out under the sun here. How would I know I’d burn so quickly?”
“You’re an idiot, you know this?” She reinforced her words with a press of her fingers upon his wound.
“Careful, Diya. That hurts.” He almost hissed the last word.
“Oh, sorry,” she said in a sweet little girl tone.
Blimey, she was making fun of him.
He heard a chuckle and glanced up to find Lara watching them with amusement on her face.
“You shouldn’t put your synthetic jumper on the burn,” she said. “Come with me. I’ll give you one of Eric’s T-shirts.”
He followed her into a spacious, airy bedroom, and thanked her when she handed him a white cotton T-shirt. He pulled it over his head and winced when the fabric brushed his shoulder.
Lara stood watching him, and he found her scrutiny disconcerting.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
How had she guessed? Yet, it was high time for him to come clean.
“Yes.”
She nodded, and the ice left her bold eyes, to be replaced with a wistful gentleness. “She deserves a good man. Have you told her?”
He shook his head.
“Mak
e sure you do. It doesn’t work out when such matters are kept in the dark.”
Something told him she spoke from experience, because a flicker of pain had crossed her face when she’d said the words.
He only nodded, and she acquiesced with a smile.
“I’ll tell Therese to serve dinner. Eric is back.”
Trent followed in her wake, heading towards the patio, from where he heard animated voices.
Eric Marivaux was out there. The man greeted him warmly, shaking his hand. They chatted for a while before Emilie and Thomas claimed their father’s attention.
Eric laughed. “Sorry, Trent. A father’s duty is often demanding, as you probably well know.”
Trent chuckled, too, until Emilie’s cheerful chatter, in French, caught his attention. Thomas chose the same moment to yell, “M’man, veux ma sucette!”
Startled, he bent towards Diya. “They’re bilingual?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing. It’s the first time I’ve come across such little kids with this ability.”
Surprise still tingled in him, because they’d spoken in perfect English with him, and Emilie now spoke in fluent French with her father.
“Thomas is still grappling with it, but he’s only started to talk, so it’s not really an issue,” Diya said.
Bloody hell. Would this family never cease to amaze him?
“Dinner’s ready,” the housekeeper said from the dining table at the other end of the patio.
They all settled in their seats, to warm servings of curried chicken and fresh-baked bread. The meal went well, until Lara reached for a bowl and lifted the lid. She scrambled out of her chair and rushed into the house with her hand on her mouth.
“Eric, it’s a boy,” Diya said in a calm voice.
Eric chuckled. “Another one like Thomas, and I surrender. Lara didn’t want to know the sex of the baby, though.”
“It’s a boy. I’m certain. She couldn’t smell rice when she was expecting Thomas. With Emilie, it was onions.”
“Hold on,” Trent said. “Lara is pregnant?”
Eric grinned. “A little more than seven months along now.”
Diya burst into laughter.
“Don’t look so shocked. She doesn’t show. Hasn’t for any pregnancy. There were people she worked with who were surprised when she went on maternity leave.”
“I better go see if she’s okay,” Eric said.
Diya must’ve also heard the worry in his tone, but then, such concern was normal to expect from a husband. Or wasn’t it?
“She’s doing okay, isn’t she?” Diya’s voice came out barely above a whisper, and her face had gone pale.
Eric let out a weary sigh as he stood. “Her blood pressure’s a bit high, and the doctor is a little concerned.” He reached out and clasped her hand. “You shouldn’t worry about it. She’s in good hands,” he said before leaving the table.
She didn’t reply, and her knuckles turned white on her spoon. Trent eased the cutlery out of her grip, and she shot her head up, her eyes wide.
“She’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” she said in a whisper. And then, she squeezed his hand.
He would’ve preferred for her to lean on him, to use his shoulder as her rock … but he’d be satisfied with this. It was progress, either way.
All too soon, the time came to leave. Both Matthew and Josh wanted to ride back with Diya. Trent thanked their hosts for their warm hospitality and left with his car following Diya’s truck.
The children had fallen asleep when they reached Tamarin, probably crashing after the excitement and exertion of their fun-filled day. Matthew woke up and stepped out on his own. Trent carried a sleeping Josh up to his flat.
As they emerged out of the lift, a groggy Josh reached for Diya. “You tuck me in bed?”
“Sure, sweetie.”
Trent almost stopped in his tracks. They could pass for a dysfunctional family. The children in between, the two adults close, but with a wide chasm between them, strangers once again. Was that what divorced couples felt like?
They put both boys to bed and settled in the living room. Diya rested her head against the sofa and closed her eyes. Her face appeared weary and drawn.
“You’re worried about your sister?”
She glanced up at him. “I don’t want something bad to happen to her. She’s had her share of a tough life already.”
“I’m sure it won’t come to this. Who’ll she turn to if you can’t give her the support she needs?”
“True.” Her whisper hung in the air.
“Listen.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She sat up straighter. “What is it?”
Her eyes had become liquid dark pools when they fixed on his.
The fire flamed again in his body. Won’t do. He had to get his thoughts straight.
“I’m thinking of settling here. Permanently. Aside from that one episode, Matthew hasn’t been sick in all this time, when he’d been missing school for days on end back in England because of his asthma.”
He was aware that he was babbling, but he wanted her to know where this was coming from. He couldn’t tell her right away that he was out to win her over.
She drew her eyebrows together as a small sound escaped her lips.
“I bought a house, and I’d like you to redo its interior,” he continued, before grimacing. “It could use the perk.”
“That’s wonderful news!”
The excitement in her voice warmed a previously cold part of him.
“Where is it located?” she asked.
“It’s here in Tamarin. How about I take you there tomorrow, say, after lunch?”
“That’d be lovely.”
The lively and vibrant Diya was back. Enthusiasm thrummed in her oh-so-polite statement. He could almost imagine she’d jump up and start hopping around. He smiled as contentment filled his heart.
Finally, he’d found her, and he wouldn’t want to lose her for anything in the world.
She beamed at him as she stood. “I better go now. It’s getting late. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Diya.”
“Good night to you, too,” she said before she closed the front door.
He loved her. Hook, line, and sinker.
With such strong certitude buzzing through him, he lowered his eyelids and settled more comfortably in the sofa.
A little while later, he jerked up when a small hand settled on his arm.
“Daddy, I can’t thleep.”
He hauled Josh into his lap. “What’s the matter, baby?”
“Oobie won’t let me thleep. He juth wanth to talk of the day we thpent with Emilie.”
Oh, no. Not that one again. “Josh, Oobie doesn’t exist.”
“Of courthe he doeth. Diya thayth tho.”
Does she, now?
Josh kept on talking. “Diya even hath one, too. Thayth he’th juth like her Printhe Charming.”
Now that was interesting. If he knew what Diya’s dream guy was like, he could play the part with much more ease, and aim better to win her over.
“Really, Josh? What’s this Prince Charming like?”
***
One p.m. refused to come soon enough, to Trent’s impatience. As soon as the clock ticked the hour, he shot out of the flat and knocked on Diya’s door.
But she still hadn’t answered after more than five minutes. Had she forgotten they were supposed to meet?
At the same moment, the lift dinged. He found a tiny figure making its way out rather unsteadily. Diya carried so many plastic containers in her arms, the pile obscured her face. How was she stepping forward if she couldn’t see where she went?
“Want some help with all this gear?”
She walked straight into him to dump the load into his arms. “Thank goodness you’re here. My arms are killing me. Come on, help me take this in.”
She strolled to her front door, a
nd he followed her in.
“Where do you want me to put these?” he asked.
“In the kitchen, please. They’re supposed to go into the freezer.”
He eased the airtight boxes on the gleaming black-and-grey granite counter. Diya pulled the freezer drawer open and started to place the containers in.
“That’s food?”
She nodded. “From my mother’s place. It’s my compromise on the whole ‘living alone’ issue. She knows I’ve got healthy food to eat, this way.”
Makes sense.
As he stood there, he allowed his attention to travel over her living space while she busied herself with her task.
Cherry wood-toned laminate flooring ran all across the flat. The kitchen carried a weird mix-and-match of colourful ceramic crockery. Two ovens, one a microwave, the other a standard convection, sat side by side against the wall on a table. A huge arrangement of artificial sunflowers perched at one end of the counter separating the plan from the living room.
Her furniture all carried some sort of floral pattern, soft pillows on every seat, and lace mats on the tables. He went to a demi-console that held silver picture frames.
Family pictures. He didn’t dare pick them up, given how he hadn’t asked her if he could.
A green and blue clock sat beside the photos. One half of the frame carried the drawing of a drooling Odie, the silly dog from the Garfield cartoons. The bubble over his head read, “Don’t Worry—Be Stupid.”
He chuckled, and turned when he felt Diya next to him.
“It’s a gift from Neha’s kids,” she said.
“It’s cute.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Do you mind waiting for me while I get changed?”
He glanced at her. She wore a dress suit of a style he’d never seen before. The fitted top clung to her upper body, the dress short and colourful with heavy embroidery. A pair of bouffant, pleated pants covered her legs. On her feet, she sported dainty slippers echoing the embroidery in her outfit.
“Is this an ethnic suit?”
“Yes. A kurti suit. There was a prayer session at my mum’s place this morning. I didn’t attend, but I didn’t want to rock the boat by appearing in a sexy Western outfit.”
She thought she didn’t look sexy this way? His libido didn’t agree. The suit hugged her figure and hinted at gentle curves, making a man burn with the fire of wanting to rip it off to see the real her underneath it. “Don’t change.”
