The Sea of Aaron

by Kymberly Hunt

  What she did see was impressive—the kind of hard, sculpted body an athletic twenty-something would be proud of. His earlier artery-clogging choice of breakfast had to have been something of a fluke because it did not show on his well-toned muscular torso, which was devoid of any flab. He didn’t have a bandage covering the surgical scar on the right side of his chest, though, which marred his otherwise near perfection.

  “Do I appear to be on the brink of collapse?” he asked, sitting up straight.

  “Hardly,” Valerie admitted, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, leaning forward to inspect his back for an exit wound.

  “The bullet didn’t exit,” he explained when she found nothing. “The doctors fished it out of my lung.”

  “Did they get it all?”

  “Yes.”

  “They took X-rays…an MRI?”

  His piercing eyes met hers. “Incredible as it may seem, there really are some knowledgeable doctors in Saudi Arabia.”

  Valerie laughed now. “Okay, okay. I deserved that one.”

  She traced a finger lightly over a smaller, thinner scar where they’d inserted and removed a chest tube. It, too, was healing.

  “Just one more thing,” she said, taking the stethoscope out of her bag and adjusting it around her neck. She listened to his heartbeat, which was strong, then asked him to breathe while she checked his lungs. He complied, somewhat tentatively, she noticed, but his lungs were clear. The larger scar did have some reddish areas surrounding it, but nothing to get alarmed about. A temperature check had revealed no fever.

  “You need to keep a bandage on that,” she told him. “It’s healed enough so the wound isn’t open, but when you’re wearing a shirt, the material constantly brushing against it could cause problems.”

  Aaron nodded noncommittally. She did the honors, taping a square gauze patch in place. On closer inspection she noted that he had another barely visible, long-healed-over scar just below his ribcage. She started to question him about it, but decided not to bother. He hadn’t volunteered any details concerning the event that had caused the current wound.

  “I must say your bionic reputation is solid,” she told him. “You’re pretty amazing. You’re also darn lucky.”

  “If I really were so lucky, I wouldn’t have the scars to prove otherwise,” he said.

  “Well, what do you expect? He who plays with fire often gets burned.”

  Aaron knew her physical inspection of him was supposed to be professional only, but her close proximity was causing him to react more impulsively than he had ever done in his life. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer than she had been. He had experienced a similar impulse while in the café gazing into her large almond-shaped eyes. Now the feeling was even stronger, emboldened by her scent, which was sweeter than the oleander from the garden below. Slowly his hands stroked her back, feeling the warmth of her nubile body radiating through her thin T-shirt.

  Valerie stiffened slightly. “Um, Aaron.”

  Ignoring her voice, he fixated on her dangling silver earrings and then on her turquoise T-shirt, wondering about the taut, well-proportioned form beneath it. Engrossed in that thought, he allowed his palm to venture down the gentle slope of her backside.

  “Let go of me, please.”

  She didn’t sound like she meant it at all. Nevertheless, the negative words broke his spell.

  “Why?” he asked, releasing her, not really wanting to know the answer.

  “Because I’m a Christian…a serious Christian, and I think you already know that. I’m not here to behave as if we’re married.”

  He stifled a groan. “You don’t have to be married to be…friendly.”

  “What you were doing went beyond friendly.”

  At what specific point did I go beyond friendly? he thought sarcastically. Abruptly he stood up, grimacing slightly at the pulling sensation caused by the still-healing wounds, and reached for his shirt that was draped on the back of the chair.

  “Might be a good idea if you would drop the machismo a notch and move a little slower,” Valerie said as he pulled the shirt over his head. “It must have been excruciating for you yesterday, flinging my suitcase around like you did.”

  She was definitely in full nurse mode, until she tugged the shirt down in place, even though she knew full well that he could do it himself. And there was nothing strictly professional or Christian about the way her hands brushed—no, stroked the area just below his ribs as she did this. The woman was toying with him.

  “You mentioned tranquilizer darts earlier,” he said, his voice even thicker than usual. “Unlike you, I actually do own such a gun, but you may borrow it if you like.”

  “Sweet,” Valerie said. “When I’m in the mood for stalking, I’ll let you know, but right now I’d rather you be my charming tour guide.”

  ***

  They spent the day wandering all over the tiny island. No one on Caye Caulker seemed to be aware of time. Valerie and Aaron strolled the sandy roads, occasionally passing by barefoot people, young and old, riding bicycles or walking. Everyone smiled. Everyone relaxed.

  Valerie enjoyed browsing in several small novelty shops, something she rarely did back home, and she especially loved the quirky art galleries featuring works by local artists. In one such place, she spotted a beautiful acrylic painting that depicted the Caye Caulker shoreline, the blue Caribbean fringed by pink, violet, and lime-green houses.

  “Aaron, this one is gorgeous,” she exclaimed, pointing. “Look, there’s Annie’s Inn.”

  “You like that one, do you?” Aaron said, somewhat sardonically.

  She nudged him. “Oh, stop. I think it’s beautiful. As a matter of fact, I might buy it.”

  He glanced at the price. “Save your money. You might be able to bargain with the gallery owner. As it is, it’s too expensive.”

  “Hey, I’m the one to determine that,” she said.

  “True. But it will still be there when you come back. There are other things to do, and you don’t want to be lugging a painting around, do you?”

  His logic prevailed and after browsing some more, they left the gallery and had lunch at a popular seafood restaurant, followed by a short stroll down to a section known as the split. From that location, Aaron indulged Valerie’s curiosity by accompanying her on a guided boat tour with a bunch of chatty British tourists out to see the island’s famous manatees and other marine life.

  It was nearing evening when they returned to shore, and Valerie gave Aaron silent credit for tolerance during the course of the day, because she knew the touristy excursions must have been incredibly boring for him, but at least he hadn’t appeared restless and surly. True, he maintained his habitual aloofness, leaving most of the conversation for her to initiate, and twice he’d gotten calls on his cell phone and excused himself to seek privacy, but she didn’t mind. After all, why would she when she was thankful to God that he was recovering so well, not to mention her extreme pleasure over the advances she’d made with him earlier.

  Her real reason for being in Belize did linger at the back of her mind. What was going on with the investigation? How was it being carried out? And was there any progress? True, it was only the second day, but Aaron had to know something. As the innocent victim, Valerie felt she had a right to know some detail, and she resolved that once they got back to the hotel, she’d inquire. Right now, though, she just wanted to go slow and enjoy the island and her illusion of closeness to Aaron.

  Chapter 5

  Evening found them climbing from his speedboat onto the deck of Saniyah II. Valerie sensed that this had not been part of Aaron’s plan for the day, but she had asked to see the ship and he had granted permission.

  “Wow! She’s gorgeous,” Valerie exclaimed, genuinely impressed as she stood on the pristine teak deck, looking at the polished railings. The ship was bigger than she’d imagined and blindingly white, with two broad navy stripes on her hull. “A genuine wooden schoone
r, too. I should have known you wouldn’t settle for fiberglass.”

  “Ah, an African-American woman who knows something about boats,” Aaron said, watching her closely.

  Valerie didn’t take offense. “Not an awful lot,” she admitted. “But it just so happens that when I was around ten, my father allowed me to spend a summer with friends of his from Rhode Island. That whole family was into sailing, and I learned a thing or two…even how to handle a sailboat alone…a very small, basic one, that is.”

  “You weren’t the typical little girl, then.”

  Valerie glanced at him, bemused. “What is the typical little girl?”

  “One who plays with dolls, has tea parties, and would never sail a boat on her own, or go fishing if she had to touch a worm.”

  She laughed. “For your information, I did play with dolls and have tea parties. I was also a better pitcher and a better angler than my brother.”

  “Just as I thought. Come. I’ll show you below.”

  Like most sailing vessels, the living quarters below deck were tight to maximize every inch of space, but this ship definitely had more headroom than any she’d ever been aboard. The galley was neat, equipped with modern appliances; the salon area was wood paneled and a bit dark, albeit definitely masculine colors. The built-in seating had royal blue upholstery. She noticed that Aaron, at what she guessed to be around six feet, five inches tall, didn’t even have to duck when he moved around.

  “Custom designed?” she asked, looking at the shelving containing books, mostly navigational texts. There was also a desk with a computer, fax machine and printer.

  Aaron nodded in reply. “Sit. I’ll get some drinks. Does rum and coke suit you?”

  “That’s fine,” she said.

  He vanished into the galley and she noticed a bunch of art canvases stashed in a corner, facing the wall. Funny, he hadn’t seemed all that interested in art when they were in town. Curious, she wandered over and peeked at one of the paintings. There was something familiar about the colorful island scene depicted—more familiar than just that it was Caye Caulker’s main street with its sandy road and pastel buildings. The painting was similar in style to the one she had wanted to purchase and had probably been done by the same artist.

  She selected another canvas, which looked peculiar because it was all in varying shades of aquamarine with a much deeper blue in the center of the painting, like an eye. The eye was in turn fringed by what appeared to be grainy rocks or reefs. She picked up the canvas and held it at arm’s length, trying to figure it out.

  Aaron returned so quietly she didn’t realize he was behind her. He set their drinks on the table. “ ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ ” he said, gently but firmly taking the painting away from her and placing it back where it had been. “What’s your interpretation?”

  Though perturbed by the fact that he’d taken the painting away, she decided not to fixate on it.

  “Well, it kind of looked like the ocean with a giant hole in it,” she said.

  “Correct. That’s exactly what it is. A few miles from here, there’s a place in the middle of the ocean called The Blue Hole. It’s a naturally formed sinkhole that’s also a great diving spot. You can only get this kind of view of it from an airplane.”

  “Really?” She noticed something else. On the lower shelves there were paintbrushes, other art equipment, and more empty canvases. It slowly dawned on her—and she felt like a dim-witted child—that he was the artist. She inhaled deeply and then laughed.

  “ ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ indeed,” she said. “That was your work I was looking at in that gallery before. I’m impressed. You’re very good.”

  “Just a hobby when I’m bored. No more, no less.” He was about to retrieve their drinks to take them up to the deck when she nudged him, wanting him to comment more.

  “Did you study art in college?”

  “Not seriously.”

  Open and shut. He had no intention of engaging her with detail. Quick, she thought, come up with something else.

  “Aaron?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does Saniyah II have a story? I mean, is this ship named after someone, or some thing?”

  “All ships have a story,” he said. “Saniyah means ‘brilliant’ in Arabic. I found her years ago rotting away in some Miami shipyard. There was something about her that spoke to me, so I bought her for a steal.” Aaron continued the story as he reclaimed her drink and his bottle of beer and urged her up the stairs ahead of him. “My son and I rebuilt her almost from the beams up.”

  Son? Valerie was glad he was behind her or she would have missed a step and fallen backward, such was her surprise. Had she misunderstood him? “Did you say you have a son?”

  “Andrew,” Aaron said matter-of-factly, oblivious to her shock, or pretending to be. “He was eleven then, but he’s all grown up now and in the navy.”

  Valerie’s focus completely evaporated yet she didn’t want him to see that she was truly astonished by that revelation. Neither Jasmine nor Noah had ever mentioned anything about Aaron having a son. If he was telling the truth, and why wouldn’t he be, then there could be a wife…an ex-wife out there. She wondered if he was secretly enjoying the torture he was inflicting on her.

  “Drew’s mother and I never married,” he said when they were seated at a table facing each other broadside on deck. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know he existed until he was eight years old.”

  “That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?” Valerie said.

  Aaron made no comment. He leaned forward and extracted a wallet from his back pocket. Flipping it open, he handed it to her. “This is Drew. He’s a Navy SEAL.”

  Impressive, she thought, looking at the picture. The SEALs had notoriously high entrance standards. Valerie stared into the face of a young man who was clearly Caucasian and exhibited no trace of his father’s more exotic breeding. Andrew Weiss was in full uniform, gorgeous as a screen idol with close-cut blondish hair, crystal clear blue eyes, a sculpted face, cleft chin—yes, the chin was like his father’s. The longer she looked at him, the more she could actually see an uncanny resemblance.

  “Your son looks like a movie star,” she said off the top of her head. She laughed. “Almost like my mother’s favorite actor.”

  “Who is your mother’s favorite actor?”

  “Paul Newman. He looks like a young Paul Newman.”

  Aaron smirked. “You think so?”

  “His eyes are so blue,” Valerie said. “Did his mother have eyes like that?”

  “No. Hers were—” He shrugged. “I don’t remember. Maybe they were green.”

  She handed the wallet back to him, waiting, hoping she wouldn’t have to keep prying, hoping for once that he’d elaborate.

  “Things are never as they seem,” Aaron said slowly. He took a swig of beer straight from the bottle, and then he stood up and walked a few feet away from her.

  She sat paralyzed, staring at the ice melting in her drink, and then raised her eyes to the glory of the sun sinking low into the azure sea. Aaron sat back across from her again.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  Her eyes met his and she gave a start. A pair of deep blue eyes stared back at her, not crystal blue like Andrew’s, but a very, very dark blue, much like the color of the ocean besieged by a storm.

  Valerie forced a smile. “You so love shocking me, don’t you? Those are contacts, right?”

  “I was wearing contacts before,” Aaron said. “Blue is my natural color. In the kind of work that I’ve been doing, it doesn’t pay to have what some might consider odd or outstanding features. I always wear dark contacts, so most people think my eyes are black.”

  She shook her head. The ebony-eyed look had captivated her, but the midnight blue was even more mesmerizing and mysterious. She took a deep breath. Midnight blue like the color of the sinkhole he had painted. She felt odd and suddenly chilly, even though the breeze was balmy. He’s scary, Denise had said. Maybe the
chatterbox was right.

  She toyed with her drink and attempted to sip, but somehow she couldn’t swallow normally. “It’s starting to get dark,” she said. “Maybe I should be heading back to the inn.”

  He was doing it, looking at her in that reflective way again. “Of course,” he said, rising, offering her his hand.

  She took it and they boarded the waiting speedboat, which he had attached to Saniyah II. Once the bowline was removed, they were slicing through the water at lightning speed. Valerie had never been seasick in her life, but at this moment she felt queasy.

  “I’m surprised that you haven’t asked about the investigation,” Aaron said once they’d arrived at the inn and she was unlocking the door to her hotel room. “It’s progressing quite well, and I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you won’t have to stay here very long at all.”

  Valerie smiled at him sweetly—at least she thought it was sweetly—but the expression looked more like it belonged on the face of a piranha. “I appreciate everything you’re doing, Aaron. Thank you and goodnight.”

  Before she could step in and close the door, Aaron’s arms encircled her from behind, stopping her in her tracks. Immediately, music from the past started to play in her head as his lips heated up the back of her neck, causing her whole body to flush and tremble like a newborn kitten. Losing herself, she turned slowly in his arms, eyes closed, barely breathing.

  But nothing happened. No kiss.

  “Goodnight,” he said, thick-voiced, releasing her and stepping back as though she’d requested him to.

  Unbelievable. Valerie quickly turned on her heel, entered her room, and shut the door. Already she could hear his footsteps moving down the hall.

  She threw herself on the bed, trying to figure out exactly why she was so upset. “You’re crazy,” she muttered to herself. “Every bit as crazy as he is.”

  It made no sense to be angry with him for not kissing her when she’d warned him in the beginning about taking liberties with her unmarried state. He was in a no-win situation. If he had kissed her passionately, she would have savored the moment and then been upset later on, because illusions of romance could not cover over her disturbed feelings that were prompted by his revelations onboard Saniyah. No, what had happened was not strange. Aaron had simply been his usual enigmatic, dismissive, and detached self. What she’d learned about him was simply too much to contain in one day, that was all. He was like putting together a challenging jigsaw puzzle and then realizing too late, after much time had been invested, that pieces were missing.