He would return now and again, encouraging her to try to snorkel. He did convince her to put a snorkel in her mouth—though she refused to put something in her mouth that had recently been in someone else’s mouth and then hastily rinsed in a tub. Her gag response would kick in. So he washed it thoroughly for her and then she kneeled in the shallow waters near the shoreline and floated. He held on to her and she wanted to push his hands away, but frankly, even though the water was only a few feet deep, she was afraid. There was a moment though—with her face covered by a mask, where she watched the sun lacing through the water onto the white sand, being lulled by the cool water lapping over her sun-warmed back, and feeling the gentle current rocking her—that she actually enjoyed herself.
As she dried in the sun after her brief swim, Paolo returned from the boat with a creamy brown drink.
“What is it?”
“It’s called a ’Nilla Killa.”
She took a sip of it. “Hmm! Delicious! Thank you.”
“You need more lotion!” He grabbed the sunscreen and, before she could object, he was moving it over her shoulders and back. His thumbs ran over her neck and she leaned into it. It did feel good. She knew that he was spending far more time working in the lotion than was required. She also knew that she should inform him of such.
Finally, she pulled forward and said, “Thanks, I think that’s plenty.” Paolo immediately stopped.
“I’m going back in,” Paolo said abruptly, as he rose and disappeared into the water.
Laying back on her beach towel, with her drink and the sun and cool breeze, felt good. She hadn’t felt this good in a very long time. Granted, much of that was due to the rum, but it didn’t really taste like there was much alcohol in her drink. Suddenly, Paolo stood up in the waist deep water, looking comical with his mask over his face and the snorkel dangling from his mouth.
“Valeria, come quickly! You must see this!”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Come, Valeria. I promise, you’ll be very glad you did!” he encouraged.
Resigning herself, she reluctantly grabbed her mask and snorkel and joined him.
“You do not need to swim this time,” he said as she began to slip her mask on. Suddenly, a pod of dolphins began swimming around her. Her jaw dropped in wide-eyed amazement.
“Dolphins!” She stood watching them as they circled them and played. They were so close she could touch them! She got her nerve up and brushed the back of one of them.
For nearly ten minutes, the dolphins played around her. The look in Paolo’s eyes was just as amazed. Soon, other tourists were trying to video the event and pushing their loved ones near Valeria to get a picture. Paolo offered to hold the camera so that a father could be in the shot with his children. Then, just as quickly as the dolphins had come, they left.
Valeria heard the blow of the conch shell, announcing that it was time to return to St. Croix. During the trip back, she comfortably laid on the front of the catamaran and sunned herself. The breeze and the cool air from the sea were delightful, and the crew kept the rum punch flowing.
Paolo glanced at her. “You are turning pink. You should roll over.”
With a shrug, she rolled onto her stomach and adjusted her towel.
“You need more lotion.” He immediately began massaging the warm lotion into her skin and, this time, she simply enjoyed the feel of his skilled hands on her back and neck.
Everyone on the boat was still talking about the dolphin’s behavior at Buck Island. The crew went on and on about how they had never seen the dolphins circle someone like that before.
“Valeria, do you know why the dolphins came to you?” Paolo asked as he added a stroke of sunscreen to her shoulders.
“I think it was just luck.”
“No,” he said softly, and she turned to look at him. He leaned back against the incline of the boat so that his face was not far from hers. “You know it is said that Apollo once disguised himself as a dolphin.” Paolo folded his hands behind his head. “I believe they came to you to say welcome.” Valeria smiled. Although she had seen visions about her life with Apollo, that part of her existence was simply not real to her. Paolo closed his eyes. “I’m sure Alex could tell you more.” Realizing what he had said, Paolo abruptly stopped.
Yes, Alex would be able to tell her more about it. He would have kept her interest, and he might have even gotten her to snorkel.
They arrived back at Christiansted and waved goodbye to Captain Jim and the crew. Their limo drove east along a winding coastal road with spectacular views and the occasional home. After only a few miles, it pulled into a plantation, turned resort. The sign read, “The Buccaneer.”
As they wound along the long entry road lined with palms, she admired the lush greenery and orange and red tropical flowers. They drove past a large cone-shaped structure with a flat top, made of stone which the driver told them was an old sugar mill. Arriving at the great house of The Buccaneer, with its burnt pink buildings covered in fuchsia bougainvillea, her mind flashed back to Gaios where she and Alex were almost married. If things had worked out she might—she forced that thought away.
The open air lobby sat at the top of the hill providing spectacular views of the grounds and the Caribbean. While they waited for keys and a bellman, they strolled around the lobby, which merged seamlessly into the restaurant and was completely surrounded by large pink arches that seemed to encapsulate all the pleasures of the Caribbean with its colors and temperature and smells. Shell wind chimes were hung throughout the lobby and every few seconds made sweet tinkling sounds with each soft wave of the breeze. Paolo pointed out a tiny spot of white and green in the sea of blues and told her that it was Buck Island.
The bellman escorted them to a golf cart and drove them down the steep winding road to a villa on the water. Valeria saw that it looked like they were going to a single room. She looked at Paolo sternly, but he patted her arm. “We will only have adjoining balconies.” He smiled seductively. “I will only enter your room when you invite me.”
“Well then, it’ll be a while.” She stepped out of the now stopped golf cart and removed her foot from her flip-flop, tapping it on the pavement. “Ground’s still warm.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. “I don’t believe hell has frozen over, yet!”
Still, Valeria found herself enjoying Paolo’s company and she realized that the rum and sun had affected her to a degree. She had the sudden knowledge that if she hadn’t known Alex, she probably would have fallen for Paolo. But not now….definitely not now! Still, something stirred in her and made her very uncomfortable being this close to him.
Her suite was extraordinary; it overlooked the sea, with wood slat walls that allowed the sound of the sea into the room, along with the wonderful Caribbean breeze. The temperature was delightful. He knocked on the door to her deck and handed her another rum punch. She didn’t want to be rude, so she took it. Besides, she was certain that it had to be weak, because otherwise it would have affected her by now.
As they sat on the deck, enjoying the setting sun, Valeria wished that she had insisted that he stay in another building. She had briefly thought about doing that but felt that it would have been silly. Adjoining decks weren’t a big deal…but if that were true, then why was she suddenly so uncomfortable? As she glanced over, she noticed that he was, too.
Paolo asked if she was ready to go to dinner and, suddenly, she realized that she was famished! The salad and fish and vegetables hadn’t been enough with all of the sun and activity…and the rum. They went their separate ways to dress for dinner, and something about it all just felt a bit too intimate.
In the shower, the warm water ran over her newly sunburned shoulders, stinging just a bit. It was strange to think about it, but sometimes, Paolo had this child-like sweetness, such as his excitement over Charlie or the dolphins. Then other times, he was just infuriating! But she was surprised to discover that she now enjoyed her
time with him. In fact, they might someday be friends. She would have been good friends with him if he hadn’t done what he did. She shook that memory away; if she thought about it too much, she wouldn’t be able to be here with him and she would do anything to see Alex! But enjoying her time with Paolo created a conflict in her that felt like a betrayal.
With her sundress on, she pulled her wet hair into a ponytail, and went out the front door and down the steps. Paolo was waiting for her on the lawn and, as usual, he was immaculately dressed. He offered his arm and, for once, she took it as they walked up the winding hill to the arched outdoor restaurant overlooking the Caribbean.
The sky turned various and magnificent shades of pink and blue as the sun set. A guitarist played romantic music while the Caribbean breeze gently kissed them. The food was extraordinary. Valeria wished she was there with Alex. But it didn’t seem like he thought about her anymore.
After dinner, the hotel manager sent over special rum drinks. Valeria and Paolo drank and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. An elderly couple came by and observed, “You must be on your honeymoon.”
Valeria jerked away from Paolo. “No! No it isn’t like that with us,” she said, but when she turned back to Paolo she realized that he was looking at her with love in his eyes.
He ordered more flavored rum shots. But the rum didn’t seem to affect her like wine did. She sipped it and it just tasted so good and felt oh so wonderful. It took the edge off her other thoughts.
A steel band started up.
“Come. Dance with me, Valeria.”
“I don’t think I can dance to this.”
“If a woman has a good lead, she can dance to anything.”
“I see,” she said with a cynical smile, but then she took his hand.
As they started to move to the Caribbean beat, with the views and the stars, she had to admit, he could dance. Weege always told her to never trust a man who knew how to dance. In this case, it was certainly true. But then again, Alex was a great dancer, too. Oh, how wonderful it would be if…she closed her eyes and imagined that it was Alex who she was here with…Alex who was holding her. She felt his arm tighten around her waist.
She thought about Paolo’s words that he didn’t know if Alex could meet her and it made her wonder, what if Alex refused? If Paolo told her that Alex wouldn’t meet her, could she believe it? No, she couldn’t. If Alex had moved on, he would never leave it to someone else to tell her. Then she realized something; wasn’t that the message he had given her that last night—that they both needed to find a way to be happy? She shook that thought away.
Tonight was too pleasant to think of Alex rejecting her. Instead, she would imagine that she was here with him…she leaned her head against Paolo’s chest as she stared out across the water to the flickering lights of St. Thomas…and just behind that, St. John. She noticed that Paolo smelled good…not good like Alex, but pleasant.
The longing for the man she loved increased and Paolo sensed it and pulled her tighter into him as his mouth brushed the top of her head—not a romantic gesture, just a comfortable one, she justified.
They danced and drank more and then walked back down the hill in the brilliant star-filled night. They continued past the stairs to their rooms and Valeria realized she wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end. It had been so long since she had felt good that the evening was a relief. She slid her shoes off and felt the soft, cool sand under her feet as she moved toward the water. The gentle tide lapped at her ankles.
“We could go for a swim,” Paolo suggested softly. Valeria ignored him. She knew that she was being more relaxed with Paolo than she should be. He did have feelings for her and it was unfair to allow him to think that she had any interest in him.
She saw something in the sand and knelt to dig at it as the light rolls of the tide hit the bottom of her dress. She pulled out a heart-shaped head of coral.
“Look at this! Paolo, I wonder if I can keep it.”
Paolo helped her pull it out of the sand and they stood there, with both of their hands on it.
“It’s a sign, bella.”
“Do you think so?” she said, hopefully.
His face softened. “Yes.”
Realizing that they were thinking completely different thoughts, she decided that she needed to set the record straight. “Yes! It’s a sign that I’m going to see Alex soon!”
Suddenly hurt and angry, Paolo took the coral and tossed it into the water. The splash covered most of her face and dress as he turned and walked away.
Drunk, she yelled at him as she wiped the water from her face, “Oh, come on, Paolo. Don’t be a bad sport.” It was so nice out here on the beach, under the billion stars. She could even see the Southern Cross.
Turning for a moment, Paolo stopped and his eyes narrowed for an instant as he glared at her in her now wet sundress. Then he began to move toward her, his eyes focused with an intensity that she hadn’t seen in him before. There was something dangerous about the look. She saw his chest rise and fall rapidly. She knew he was battling anger and…something else. He grabbed her by the waist and instantly his mouth came down on hers.
She pulled back and opened her mouth to speak, but he kissed her again, pushing his tongue into her open mouth. Now stunned, she realized that she was kissing him back. It felt good to be held, to feel something other than pain. His hands began to run over her in a way that Alex never would have…before their marriage anyway. It was seductive and sexy and the way that he touched her was…intoxicating. She felt her heart beat pulse through her entire body—knowing she should end this. She should end this!
“Make love to me,” he whispered in her ear.
She was instantly transported to a few months before in Greece, and it was Alex who was there, loving her, wanting to make love to her. And it was so…luxurious, the feeling of being loved and wanted. His hands found the hem of her dress, her hips beneath it, and her bare back.
“Say my name, Bella. Tell me you want me,” his voice was silk in its gentle urging. And then, with a sudden shock, she realized—this wasn’t Alex! Oh, God, what was she doing? She pushed back, but Paolo pulled her in even closer.
“Stop it! Now!” she cried, slamming both of her hands into his chest. Stunned, Paolo released her and she fell back hard onto the sand. Paolo knelt to help her up, but she pushed him away.
“I am sorry, bella. I did not mean to do that yet.”
She was angry with him—but mostly, she was angry with herself. She used the emotion to lift herself back on her feet and completely avoided his hand. With her jaw grinding angrily, she brushed past Paolo and back to the grassy edge of the beach where there was a spigot. She briefly rinsed her feet, while battling her thoughts of what had just occurred. Paolo approached her, looking sheepish.
“Please forgive me, bella! Alex would not be angry with this...he would not.”
At that, her heart rate sky-rocketed, realizing that she had harmed the only person she loved more than life. A few tears escaped, but she fought to hold back the flood of emotion that sat lodged in her throat. She finished washing her feet, grabbed her shoes, and marched up the stairs, occasionally staggering slightly. Then she turned to Paolo and losing her battle against her emotions, she said, “Please, get another room far away from me. I’m not sharing a balcony or anything else with you!”
“Yes. I know, bella. It was too soon. I’m sorry, bella.”
∞
There were repeated knocks at her door with the sun shining through the slats on the wall. Her movement on the sheets scratched her and she realized that she had sand all over the bed.
Finally, she rose, still wearing the semi-damp dress from the night before, her head aching and her body stinging from sunburn. It was the maids. She asked them to come back later. She wanted to doze a bit more. Instead, she forced herself out of bed and staggered into the bathroom so she could vomit; then she showered, put on her running clothes, and stepped out the door. Everythin
g in her ached as she began her fast pace up the steep hill toward the great house and lobby. Despite the fact that she desperately needed a coffee, she passed the dining room. Then, fighting the dizziness and aching joints, she ran down the long entrance road to the hotel, turning on to the dirt shoulder of the coastal road.
The cool breeze of the day before had vanished and in its wake was an oppressive heat and humidity that blanketed her in misery as she battled a monumental headache and nausea. She stopped a few times to vomit, but forced herself to continue…a penance, of sorts. Finally, an hour later, she returned to her room, showered again, and ordered fruit and coffee from room service.
She sat on her balcony, still in the hotel robe, brushing her hair and staring out over the turquoise blue waters, her head pounding. Accusations repeatedly ran through her mind. What was she thinking going away with him when she was so lonely? How could she have let this happen? She shouldn’t have danced with him and certainly shouldn’t have done any shots!
There was a knock at her door. She had hung the ‘do not disturb’ sign and assumed that in a suite of this expense, they would leave her alone. The knocking stopped, but then in front of the deck she heard Paolo calling her from down in the grass below. He looked as though he hadn’t slept and his voice was full of the regret that she felt.
“Please allow me to come up and apologize. Please, Valeria,” he pleaded.
She ignored him for a few minutes and then quietly she said, with no emotion, “I’ll meet you in the dining room in an hour.” She continued to sip her coffee and then casually went in and packed her bags and walked up the hill.
When she arrived, Paolo was sitting at the same table with the spectacular view where they had eaten dinner the night before. It was the best view overlooking the Caribbean. He still looked awful.
“Valeria, please believe me that was not my plan last night. I…I saw the way you looked at me and…I believed that you wanted me…and then I felt you kissing me back and I…I know it was too soon. Please, forgive me.” Paolo looked down and shook his head, mournfully.
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