Before I could play out the argument in my head, Sophia swept into the room and attached herself to my arm. “Hello, Phillip,” she said, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss my check. Her lips passed softly against my skin as she hissed into my ear. “You are my fiancé. Act like it!”
I looked down at where her hand clutched my arm possessively and bent close enough to whisper back, “We need to talk.”
She flinched, but she kept a smile on her face. Fake as ever, she hissed back, “We’ll talk later.”
Wiggling her fingers across the room at someone, she detached herself and left me standing alongside Mother to finish greeting the never-ending stream of guests coming through the front door.
After an hour of handshaking and odd looks, I made my excuses and went off to find Sophia before she started tipping back the champagne flutes in rapid succession. I needed her completely sober so that she couldn’t say I never spoke to her.
I found her surrounded by a group of men, flipping her hair over her shoulder and batting her lashes at something one of them said. Reaching between two of them, I put my hand on her arm and interrupted them.
“Excuse me, I need to speak to Sophia,” I said, holding her arm a little tighter so that she’d come with me.
The jokes kicked off then when one of the men, I think it might have been the senator’s son, said something about the pool cabana being empty and far enough away so that no one could hear us ‘talking’. I gave him a look I’d long ago learned from Mother that shut him right up and pulled Sophia away, none too gently.
The contents of the wineglass in her hand sloshed over the side as she trotted beside me in her ridiculously high heels. It’d serve her right if she ended up on her ass because of them.
When we were far enough away from gawking eyes, she jerked us to a stop and pulled free of my hold. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t rudely interrupt my conversations and… and tug me along like—”
“Stop. Just stop talking and I’ll tell you what I have to say. After that, you can go back to your circle of admirers,” I said in a firm voice that told her I wasn’t playing around.
She rolled her eyes and turned away from me, tipping her drink up to her lips. “I’m not talking to you unless you plan on being nice.”
God, she sounded like a five-year-old bent on a tantrum. I moved around her, stopping in front of her, blocking her from walking away from me.
“I’ll be as nice as I can, but you need to stay until I’m done talking. Otherwise, I will haul you off to the cabana and tie you to a chair if necessary. One way or the other, you will listen to what I have to say.”
Her drink hit my face before I could move out of the way.
“That is not how you talk nicely to people, Phillip. I’m done here,” she said, walking away.
“I’m not marrying you.”
There, I’d said it!
She spun around and came back at me like a lioness hunting her prey as I mopped my hand down my face, clearing the liquid from my eyes. “Oh yes, you are. In case you’ve forgotten, you have to marry me or you don’t get a dime of your money.”
I laughed, which pissed her off even more.
“How dare you?” she growled. “Is this some kind of joke?”
I stopped laughing. “Joke? You have the nerve to ask me that? After all your plotting and scheming with my mother, you of all people should know what a joke is. But just to be perfectly clear, and I want you to remember this… I’m not marrying you.”
“You bastard!” she said, firing the glass at me. I dodged to the right, watching as it hit the ground and shattered. “You unbelievably selfish bastard!”
I caught her hands up in mine when she went to rake her nails down my face. “That’s enough. I told you once I wasn’t going to marry you and you thought you’d trap me by using my money to keep me where you wanted me. Well, guess what? I sold the boat.”
I waited for the gasp I knew would come out of her when it sunk in what I’d done. Without fail, she did it and made another try at striking me. Her words were unintelligible as she fought to get out all the nasty things she wanted to say, but I wasn’t listening. I didn’t care, because I wanted her to hear how I’d outmaneuvered both her and my mother, and how there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.
“I found a loophole, and I used it. I sold the boat and I’m using the money to start my own business… my own life of my own choosing. Do you hear me? This farce is over,” I all but shouted in her face.
She pulled her hands free and shoved me as hard as she could. I stumbled back a step as she took several deep, heaving breaths. Her finger came up as she took a few steps backward. Her eyes pulled into thin slits as she jabbed a well-manicured nail at me and said, “You will regret that decision and very soon!”
“Not likely. I’m actually feeling very free to tell you the truth,” I answered her, retreating back.
It hadn’t gone near as well as I’d thought it would go. But then again, dealing with Sophia, you never could really guess how she’d react.
I hadn’t planned on saying anything until the next day when most of the guests had left and we had a little more privacy, but, after she’d waltzed in and told me off for not acting like the perfect fiancé, I wanted to end the farce as quickly as possible.
And I’d ended it. Boy, how I’d ended it. That called for a stiff drink and a quiet spot to take it all in. I found both in less than ten minutes and set out to toast myself in taking my life back.
THE SUN MELTED INTO THE horizon by the time I made it back to my boat. Twilight had set in, dimming the skies and waking the crickets so they could sing a lullaby to the milky-white stars.
As I boarded, a low slosh of the warm, Atlantic water rocked the boat the way a mother would rock her child. It was soothing, like a much-needed hug after a long day.
Andre—the Bahamian ambassador who had guided me around the Berry Islands for the past week—floated through my mind.
“Tell me, what’s a gurl like you doin’ on dees islands alone?” he asked with his Bahamian drawl as he walked me through the small farmer’s market so I could learn about some of the native cuisine.
“A girl like me, Andre?” I asked, smiling over at him.
He had an inviting face, one that relaxed your nerves and settled your mind. Deep brown eyes. An honest, open smile. The build of a man not afraid to work. He embodied the Bahamian lifestyle with bright, floral-printed shirts and a love for music, food, and life.
“You saying you don’t think I can hack it alone?”
The corner of his lips lifted up into a grin, showcasing his pearly whites that stood out against the deep color of his skin. “No. I’m sayin’ a gurl like you should have a man by ya side. Ya too pretty to be all alone.”
I nudged into his shoulder. Andre meant well. He had a kind heart and an expressive mind that shared every bit of information about the islands I could dig out of him. He had become a fast friend who I could be nothing but grateful for.
“Well, if I had my way, then I would have a certain someone by my side, but it’s just not in the cards for us at the moment.”
“Ahhh… young love.” He stopped in front of a fruit vendor, his hands folded respectfully behind him, and leaned back on his heels. “I knew dere was somethin’ hidin’ behind dos pretty blue eyes of yours.” He leaned closer to me, his eyes widened intuitively. “Sadness ain’t no stranger ta me. Here, try dis.”
He handed me a small cup that was resting on top of a worn-down, wooden bar top. An elderly lady with thinning, white hair pinned into a bun sat behind the bar, grinding a dark-colored pulp in a mortar and pestle as rhythmic music played in the background.
“It’s tamarind juice. Good for da heart.”
I tilted the cup back against my lips and was surprised by the slightly sweet and savory drink. Andre was watching me, waiting for my reaction.
“Very good,” I said, looking to the elderly woman behind the table who was sm
iling up at me.
She nodded in return.
“Come,” Andre said, continuing our daily walk. “What do ya have in mind for ya future, Maggie? I see da sea in you, gurl. See da waves crashin’ in your eyes every time we’ve walked da beach.”
“Truth be told, I had originally intended on working from island to island so I could get a feel for the culture and people there. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to get a job though. Getting a work permit is like pulling teeth.”
He laughed, stopping in front of another vendor who he quickly said hi to and shook hands with. “Try dis.”
It was a piece of guava—sweet and tart.
I said thank you to the vendor and fell back in step with Andre.
“Maggie, if ders one thing you take away from me, take away dis—most of us make our money under da table. You know, I could help ya if ya wanted me to,” he said, moving us in the direction of the beach.
“What do you mean?”
“His name is Louis. He owns a tourist trap over on Cat Island. If you wanted, I could ask him for dat favor and get ya a job. Something small ta start off wit.”
“What kind of job?” I asked as I pulled my flip-flops off and let my toes sink into the soft, white sands.
He smirked at me. “Fillin’ tanks. Renting out gear. Tings like dat.”
“You’d really do that for me?” I asked, taken aback by his kindness. By everyone’s kindness that I’d encountered thus far.
Andre stopped and looked at me, his features softening under the midday sun. “For a gurl like you, of course.”
I MADE QUICK WORK OF turning on the generator, and then headed down into the cabin to cook up the food I had bought from the market. There were so many fresh vegetables and cuts of meat, I couldn’t help but scoop some up in hopes to make a savory soup using the recipe Andre gave me.
Mindlessly, I had the pot on the tiny stove and the soup beginning to boil as I turned my satellite phone on and punched in my dad’s number. It rang twice before he answered.
“Maggie girl,” he said cheerily.
“Hey, Dad.”
“How’s the sea life fairing?”
“Salty as ever,” I said, laughing.
He chuckled. “Speaking of salty… Scott stopped by the pier today. Asked an awful lot about you.”
I bent over and picked up my pajama’s laying on the ground from that morning and tossed them in the hamper. “Did you tell him where I was?” I asked, fearing I’d be getting a letter from an ex I had no intention of speaking with. An ex who I broke up with because he wanted more than I could give him.
“Of course not, Maggie girl. Though I do believe he is a good fellow.”
He and dad had fishing in common. And a love for old cars. And beer. And small-town livelihood.
Scott’s dad worked the same pier with mine, and his mother filled in after my mother had passed, which was most of the reason we even dated in the first place. When you grow up in a small town, and have meals with the neighbors as customarily as you would with just your immediate family, it was bound to happen.
“He is,” I said as old memories dug their way out from the grave I had buried them in long ago. His kind smile. His understanding of the sea. There wasn’t a single thing I could think of that wasn’t right about Scott. That told me we couldn’t have made it work.
Nothing except the fact that my pulse never picked up in pace when I was around him. My stomach didn’t twist in fluttering knots at the thought of him, and my lips never tingled when we had kissed.
Not the way it did when I thought of Phillip.
“Did you hear me, Maggie girl?” my dad asked, clearing his throat. If I closed my eyes, I could see him, sitting alone under the single bulb that hung over the kitchen table. An ashtray in front of him, partly full, and a cigarette burning in the other hand as a trail of white smoke rose up to the popcorn ceilings.
“Sorry, Dad. I spaced for a minute there,” I said, turning back to the stove so I could stir the soup as it boiled. “How are things at home? Catching a lot?”
“The numbers are picking up, which is good. It keeps me busy while I wait for my long-lost daughter to come home.” We both laughed. “You know where you’re headed next?”
“Yeah. Cat Island. Andre said he knew a guy there that could hook me up with a job. So, after I fix a couple of the rigs that were torn in one of the storms that passed through, I’ll be heading out.”
“You sure this Andre guy can be trusted?”
“Yeah,” I said, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear so I could take the pot off the heat.
My dad cleared his throat again. “Listen,” he said, his voice taking on a tone that said he was about to say something serious. Something he usually never did. “The last couple of times I’ve spoken to you, you’ve sounded a little down. Now, I don’t mean to pry in your business. You’re an adult now, and I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but I just want you to know that I’m here.”
“Dad, I’m fin—”
“I know this was your mother’s job… to be the ear you need,” he said, talking over me the way he does when he has a point to make. “But she isn’t here, and I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me. I love you, Maggie, and I’m proud of everything you’ve done and will continue to do.”
“I love you too, Dad,” I said, looking up to keep the tears from spilling over.
“So I’ll ask one more time… Are you okay?”
I wasn’t sure what it was with those three words, but they were always like thick hands, pushing me over the cliff of my emotions.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I said, catching a tear as it slid down my cheek. “I just… it’s a little lonelier than I expected. And…” I swallowed as heat built beneath my cheeks. “And there’s a friend of mine that I made before I left who’s going through some things right now.”
“That Phillip boy?”
I palmed my forehead. He must have spoken to Mike, who must have told him about the letters piling up for me from Phillip.
“Yes,” I replied, running my hand over the back of my neck. “I just—I can’t explain it in words that will make sense. I just miss him.”
“You love him,” he corrected me, his voice clearer and firmer than I’d heard in quite a while.
My eyes widened like saucers, and then I plopped down onto my small couch, sinking back into the velvet cushions.
“It’s okay, Maggie. I might be old and ornery, but I know the way the heart works. And I know a boy writing to my daughter for damn near close to a year isn’t a passing thing.”
“Dad—” I started to say, but he talked over me.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Maggie. And I’m not trying to embarrass you either. I only brought it up because it reminded me of how your mother and I met.”
I pushed the phone closer against my skin. Hearing a story about my mother was like discovering gold. Like watching a shooting star.
“We almost didn’t make it,” he said with a sigh.
“What?” I asked, sitting forward.
“Your mother never told you this, I’m sure. But, like you, she had the itch in her bones to travel. To be free. When I asked for her hand the day of our high school graduation, she ran from me. I thought I had lost her up until I received a postcard from her.”
“A postcard?”
“Yes. She left and went to Florida. It was a dream of hers to get out of the cold and live amongst the sprawling palm trees. That’s how everything started between us. Postcards changed to letters, and letters changed to phone calls until, one day, I pulled into the pier after a long day on the boat and she was standing there on the edge, suitcase at her feet.
“We never parted after that moment. I vowed to never let her go again. You see, Maggie, she learned something in freedom. Something she told me that day on the pier with the gulls crying over top of us.”
“What?” I asked, my voice trembling.
; “Freedom isn’t free when you live it alone,” he said softly. “Everyone has a counterpoint, Maggie girl. Every soul needs an anchor to keep them steady when the seas become too much.”
“I love you, Dad,” I said, trying to blink through the tears.
“Love you too, Maggie girl. Call me when you can. Don’t keep your pop waiting too long.”
“I won’t,” I said, and then clicked the off button.
Setting the phone down next to me, I stared at the swirling steam rising above the pot on the stove, thinking about Phillip. About how much he’d changed me without me ever really realizing it.
It had happened so fast… like lights turning on in a dark room.
I had been so focused on him and everything he was going through. Focused on trying to help him be the man I knew he was deep down, that I hadn’t noticed the way he was helping me too. The way he steadied me. Helped me open up. Taught me to be comfortable with giving more of myself, without ever even saying a word. He was my best friend. My confidant.
My anchor.
And I hoped he knew how much I wished he was here with me because I’d never felt so adrift.
I GRABBED THE SHEETS, TRYING to pull them over the chill that rolled through my body, but they wouldn’t budge. My head swam as I tried piecing together how I’d made it to my bed and why the covers were too heavy to lift, but my brain felt foggy. Distant. Like the previous night’s events had been wiped clean.
I’d had one…no two drinks as I wandered around the party, only stopping to say brief hellos on my way through the attending guests enjoying the shade of the canopy where an open bar was set up.
Once I’d done my duty of mingling, I’d made my way back inside and had been snagged up by my mother for a quick picture with the photographer she’d hired. She’d plucked my glass from my hand and made me pose for several shots before hurrying off to the photographer to make sure they touched the photos up to make sure my mismatched eyes didn’t make an appearance in her photo. I’d turned to pick up my cup, finished it off, and headed to my room.
Love Always, Page 18
