Long-Lost Wife?

by Barbara Faith

“Buy some toiletries for Mrs. Alarcon,” he’d said. “Some shirts and shorts and a couple of swimsuits.” The other things had been more or less all right. But this! The way Annabel looked in this was enough to drive a man to drink. Or into the sea. And because no drink was available, he waded out and plunged headfirst into a wave.

  She followed him in, caught a wave, came out the other side and started swimming. Robinson Crusoe, Rob for short, she decided, ran up and down the beach barking, probably afraid that once again he was going to be left behind.

  Luis swam up beside her. “I’ll get him cleaned up once we’re back aboard.” He looked back at the dog, looked out toward the boat, looked up at the sky, anywhere except at Annabel. But how could he not see the way the water clung to her eyelashes or the way the sun turned the skin of her shoulders to a rosy alabaster?

  “Maybe we’ve had enough,” he said.

  “But we’ve only just come in.” She turned on her back, floating, looking up at the sky. “it’s so beautiful here,” she said.

  She was a water nymph in a polka-dot bikini, blond hair fanning out behind her, water lapping over her breasts and hips.

  “Think I’ll go in,” he said. “Talk to the dog.”

  That brought a puzzled smile. She turned to look at him just as a roller moved in. It caught her unaware and tumbled her beneath the water. He made a grab for her when she forced her way to the surface, sputtering and laughing. He held her up, his arms around her waist, his body close to hers.

  “I didn’t see it coming.” She was a little breathless, but enjoying the thrill of the breaking waves.

  Another wave brought them closer. “Anna?” Luis said.

  She looked at him, startled, her eyes wide, lips parted. “Anna,” he said again, and kissed her.

  His lips were salty. That was her first thought, how warm and salty his lips were against hers. Another wave broke over their heads, and instead of fighting it, they sank beneath the surface of the water, down into the aquamarine depths with his mouth still on hers, his arms and legs pinning her to him.

  She opened her eyes and looked into his. Silver eyes. Did she kiss him back? Did her tongue touch his? Did her body yearn toward him? Was the fire that snaked through her belly real or imagined?

  They broke through to the surface. She gasped for air, and before she could break away he kissed her again, kissed her and kept kissing her. He pressed his body to hers and she felt his throbbing hardness. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. She only knew she had to get away from him before...

  She put her hands against his shoulders. “Please,” she managed to say. “When you ... when you kiss me like that I can’t think.”

  “Annabel,” he whispered, breathing hard. “Annabel, I—”

  “Let me go,” she said.

  He reached to tuck a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered for a moment, then he let her go and started swimming, straight out, as though all of the monsters in the sea were after him.

  Annabel stared after him. With a strange little smile she turned and made toward the shore, wondering why, when her feet touched bottom, her legs were trembling. When she reached the shore she collapsed onto the sand. The dog Rob came over. He sat on his haunches, head cocked to the side, as though to say, “What’s the matter, lady? You look a bit done in.”

  “I am done in.” She reached out and scratched his ears. “Done in and turned inside out.” By Luis Miguel Alarcon, a man she didn’t remember. But maybe her body did. Was that why she had responded to him? Because even though her conscious mind didn’t remember, her body did?

  That scared her. She had to keep her emotions in check, had to be careful until she knew who she was and who he was.

  He’d called her Anna, and for the shadow of a moment the name had somehow jogged her memory. Then the moment faded and so had the memory.

  Twenty minutes went by before he swam back to the beach. “Guess we’d better get back to the boat.” He sluiced the water off his body and tried not to look at her. But heaven help him, he couldn’t help it. She’d taken the bikini top off and put her T-shirt on. If anything she looked even sexier than before. Great legs, small nipples pushing against the cotton material.

  He picked up the basket she’d packed their luncheon things in and took the blanket from her. “Come on, dog,” he muttered, and headed for the dinghy.

  They rowed back to the boat without speaking. She went up the ladder first and he handed the dog up to her. Rob was nervous, trying to wriggle out of his arms. But when Annabel said, “Take it easy, boy,” he settled down.

  Luis hefted the dinghy onto the deck and, when he’d fastened it in place, said, “You shower first. I’ll clean the dog before I come down.”

  He didn’t quite meet her eyes, nor did he make any mention of what had passed between them. But later that evening when she carried their dinner of a crab-meat salad onto the deck, he said, “I’m afraid I owe you another apology. I was out of line. When we were swimming, I mean.”

  She nodded, accepting his apology. He shouldn’t have kissed her, but she wasn’t sure that what followed had been entirely his fault.

  “I prefer that it doesn’t happen again,” she said stiffly. Then, because it troubled her, she added, “You called me Anna.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes. It sounded strange. Maybe more familiar than Annabel.”

  He waited, and when she didn’t say anything, he said, “I always called you Anna when we were in Spain.”

  When you were dressed in a fine Spanish gown, he thought, but did not say so. With your hair piled high on your head and held in place with a Spanish comb, you became Anna for me, regal and beautiful, everything I wanted you to be.

  Spain. She had no recollection of ever having been there.

  “We’ll go this fall.”

  “This fall?”

  “Hurricane season. We always leave the island that time of the year.”

  We. Always. She felt as if she were losing her mind. How could she have lived with this man, loved this man and not remember? She looked away from him, emotions close to the surface, tears threatening. Rob padded over. She scratched his ears and he rested his head on her lap.

  The sun lowered over the sea and the sky flamed into a brilliance of flamingo red, pale apricot and, finally, to a softening of pink and mauve. They didn’t speak, they only sat there, watching darkness come. And when at last the stars appeared, the night became more beautiful than any night had been before.

  And because, for a reason she did not understand, she felt the threat of tears, she stood up and said, “I’m a little tired, Luis. I think I’ll say good-night.”

  “Good night, Manna.”

  Ann. Again that jolt of recognition. She looked at him, trying to see his face through the darkness. And with what sounded like a sob, she turned and disappeared down the steps into the cabin.

  When Rob came to lean against his knee, Luis rested a hand on the dog’s head. “What have I done?” he said. “What have I done to her?”

  He sat for a long time, lost in thought as he gazed out over the sea, eyes narrowed as though by his steady gaze he could look beneath the surface, down into the watery depths, down to where the sunken galleons of the past rested. There were treasures there in the graveyard of the deep, priceless jewels, fortunes in silver and gold doubloons.

  He reached in his pocket and took out the gold doubloon that had been in Annabel’s pocket when they’d found her, and he rubbed his thumb back and forth over it. It was smooth to his touch, and heavy. How many more of them lay somewhere beneath the waters of this vast stretch of the Bahamas? Gold doubloons, waiting to be found.

  She’d had this piece of gold, she knew where the treasure lay. If he could make her trust him, if he could unlock the secrets of her mind, then the fortune that had lain beneath the sea for almost three hundred years would be his.

  Annabel was the key. He would keep her until he had unlocked the secret of her
mind. And then?

  He went to stand by the rail. “Annabel,” he whispered into the night. “Anna.”

  They made Grand Turk on the following day and put in for repairs. The boat yard there was small but adequate, and Luis, wanting to be sure the mast was properly repaired, spent most of his time with the workers to oversee the work.

  Because she was alone most of the time, Annabel spent her days doing absolutely nothing. She lay in a chaise on the deck, reading from the supply of books Luis had aboard. She stopped only to prepare lunch when she knew it was time for him to return, and later a light supper, which they usually had out on deck.

  This was a time of recuperation for her and she took advantage of it. Each day she felt herself grow stronger. She gained a little weight and grew tanned from her hours in the sun. She swam several times a day, greater distances each time. And walked. Clad in shorts and a shirt, the straw hat from Nassau plunked down upon her sun-streaked hair, looking like a boat bum or a beachcomber, she roamed the small island, Rob at her side.

  Once, away from the town on a remote stretch of beach, a man suddenly appeared from behind some brush. Bottle in his hand, he stopped in front of her and said, “Hey, whatta we got here? Whoee! Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

  He took a step toward her, blocking her way. Rob, teeth bared, growled.

  “Call yer dog off.” The man waved the bottle at her. “Just tryin’ to be friendly. Offerin’ you a little drink is all.”

  “I don’t want a drink.” She started past him; he reached out a hand to stop her and Rob leapt.

  The man went down, squealing in terror. She said, “Rob!” and the dog backed off.

  As soon as they were out of sight of the man, she knelt beside Rob. “Good dog,” she said, hugging him. “Good dog.”

  When she told Luis about it later, he said, “Thank God he was with you. But just in case, you’d better stay close to the boat. Anyway, we’re leaving tomorrow. The day after that we’ll be in San Sebastián.”

  Would she recognize the island? Would the sight of it bring back her memory?

  She stood at the railing, looking out at the dark water. San Sebastián. His island in the sea. Would it be her home or her prison? A shiver ran through her and Luis said, “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. I wonder if I’ll recognize it, the island, your home.”

  “Your home, too.”

  She turned and, looking into his eyes, asked, “Is it, Luis? Is it?”

  He stiffened. “Of course.”

  “I think I’m...” The words came with difficulty, as though she were afraid to say them, to tell him how afraid she was.

  He said it for her. “I understand. I know how difficult this must be for you.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “But don’t be afraid. I’m here, Annabel. I’ll take care of you.” He kissed her forehead. “Everything will be all right once we reach San Sebastián.”

  But later, alone in the cabin, the fear came again. Fear of the unknown, and of him.

  Chapter 5

  She was in the galley frying fish for their noonday meal when Luis called down to her to come topside. When she scrambled up the stairs he said, “There, off to your right. San Sebastián.”

  The sun was in her eyes and for a moment she couldn’t see. Then she shaded her eyes and saw it, a small island there in the middle of the sea. Tall, swaying palms lined the edge of the white sand beach. Beyond, the rolling land gave way to the rise of green hills.

  Annabel leaned against the rail, taking it all in, trying to remember. Was this her home? Had she been happy here?

  Luis came to stand beside her. “You fell in love with the island the first time you saw it.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Eight years ago.”

  Eight years? She’d spent eight years of her life here. Why didn’t she remember?

  “We’d just been married,” he said. “You were twenty-one.”

  “Then I’m twenty-nine.”

  He nodded. “You’ll be thirty on the fourth of October.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-eight.”

  He would have been thirty when they married, nine years older. But she was too young. Twenty-one was too young to marry. Had he swept her off her feet? Had she been so in love she hadn’t wanted to wait? What had it been like, living with him on this island? Had she ever felt lonely? Had she longed for the companionship of friends, or had it been enough to be here with him? Loving him.

  Now that they were on the island, here in his home, their home, perhaps she would remember.

  She turned to him, nervous, uncertain. “Are there other people on the island?” she asked. “I mean, do other people live here? Are there other houses? Other families?”

  “Only the men and women who work for me. They’re from the small village on the other side of the island. But no one else lives here. No strangers.”

  That gave her pause. There would be no neighbors, no schmoozing in the mall, no running to the supermarket for a loaf of bread. It made her wonder, and she asked, “Where do you get your supplies?”

  “They come in by boat from Nassau every couple of weeks. Samuel—you saw him at the harbor in Nassau—will be arriving with supplies any day now.”

  He tacked into the wind and she saw to her left a high cliff and below a rocky shore where the surf rolled in, pounding hard against the rocks, slamming with a terrible force into the huge boulders, sending water and foam high into the air.

  “Hard currents and strong undertows there,” Luis said. “But the swimming on the other side of the island, nearer to the house, is fine.”

  He headed the boat that way, and now it seemed to her that indeed this was an island paradise. But so remote, so far from anything or anyone.

  When they drew near to the dock, two men appeared. They ran out onto the dock, waving their arms, broad smiles on their faces. Rob stood on the deck and barked at them.

  Luis tossed one of the men a line. The man, barefoot, clad only in denim shorts and a tattered straw hat, grabbed it. “We been worried ‘bout you,” he said. “Heard ’bout the storm that be blowing in across Cuba and figured maybe you was right in the path. You be all right?”

  “We’re fine, Moses. But it’s good to be home. Everything all right here?”

  “It be just fine, boss man.”

  The other man, older than Moses, with frizzed gray hair and a beatific smile, looked at Annabel and bobbed his head. “How you be, Mrs. Alarcon?”

  “I’m fine, thank you ...”

  “David,” Luis said.

  “Thank you, David.”

  “It sure be nice to have you back.”

  Rob jumped down off the deck, tail awag, barking. David bent down and grabbed Rob’s ears, giving him a shake. “What’s the matter with you, dog? You glad to be on dry land? Is that it?”

  Rob woofed and the two men laughed.

  “Ambrosia got your room all fixed up,” Moses said. He was a tall man, stick skinny, with knobby shoulders and bony knees. His smile was wide, his teeth were white, and his skin was the color of dark chocolate.

  “She be so excited you back she can’t hardly stand it. Been cookin’ and fussin’ for two—three days.” He reached out a hand to help Annabel, and to Luis said, “Me ‘n’ David take care of the boat, Mr. Luis. You and Mrs. Alarcon go on up to the house.”

  Mrs. Alarcon. As though in a daze, Annabel let Luis take her hand and lead her off the dock onto a path that led up and away from the beach, past sea grape and blooming hibiscus, through a lushness of fern, leafy banana trees and oleander.

  The large white house with the red roof stood perhaps a hundred yards from the beach. Sheltering palms graced the stone walk and a small waterfall bubbled over a rock garden. There were roses and birds of paradise and beautifully terraced green lawns. The back of the house was bordered by junglelike trees.

  “La Casa Bonita.” Luis looked down at her as though waiting for
a sign of recognition. But there was none.

  “Perhaps when you’re inside the house you’ll remember,” he said, sensing her disappointment.

  “Perhaps.” But there was a hopelessness in her voice, and with a sinking heart she followed him into the house.

  Her first impression was one of coolness and light, of stone and soothing shades of gold and ivory. Servants in white pants and white cotton jackets bowed them in. A large woman with dark skin and snapping black eyes stepped forward. Hands on her hips she said, “Bout time you be gettin’ here, Mr. Alarcon, sir. You had us worried half to death, thinkin’ ‘bout the storm and poor little missus out on the boat, bouncin’ up and down them waves. Coulda swallowed you up, boat ‘n’ all, just like Jonah and that whale. How come you didn’t be flyin’?”

  “I thought the sea air would be good for Mrs. Alarcon.” He tried not to smile as he urged Annabel forward. “This is Ambrosia, dear,” he said. And to the older woman, he added, “Because of Mrs. Alarcon’s accident, she’s having trouble remembering things. I’m sure once she’s back in familiar surroundings her memory will come back. After you’ve shown her to our—” he hesitated “—to her room, and after she’s rested, I’d like you to take her around the house, help her get reacquainted with things.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.” She patted Annabel’s shoulder. “You come ’long with me, missus. Soon’s you have yourself a nice rest you be feeling better.”

  “We’ll eat at seven but we’ll have a drink out by the pool at six. You’ll probably want to change before dinner. Your clothes are in your closet. Ambrosia will show you.” Luis brought Annabel’s hand to his lips. “I’ll see you then,” he said.

  “All right,” she replied, and turned away to follow the woman she did not think she had ever seen before.

  The room she was taken to was very light and very large. Part of it was a sitting room with a sofa, two chairs and a bookcase filled with a variety of books. She glanced at a few of the titles; they weren’t familiar.

  The bedroom itself was quite beautiful. The queensize bed was covered with lace-trimmed white damask. There were bedside tables, a peach-colored chaise, a small, beautifully carved table near the French doors and a dressing table as well as a double dresser.