The River to Glory Land

by Janie DeVos

  Scott smiled as though he knew better. “Don’t bet on that. You’d lose.”

  Before I could respond, our waitress suddenly appeared with large steaming plates of food and we dug in. The salsa was spicy hot, the fish crispy, the plantains sweet, and the drinks cold. I was in a Caribbean paradise.

  As we ate, we talked, about superficial things at first, like how hot the weather was, and how he knew so many people on the islands from his liquor running days; also, about how my family’s hotel was doing. Then we got onto more personal topics.

  I’d had just enough alcohol to feel bold enough to ask Scott if the woman smelling the bouquet of roses in the photo on his apartment wall was the daughter of Walter Schumacher, the man who’d repaired watches at Scott’s father’s jewelry store. She was also the woman I thought I’d seen Scott with at the bar in the Helm Restaurant, the day of the races.

  “No, the gal in the photo—the same one who was at the bar with me—is just a friend. Oddly enough, I don’t have any pictures of Marilee on that wall. She was photogenic, too. Anyway, no, that wasn’t her.”

  “What happened to her?” I asked. “Is she still around?” Without the calypso punch, I wouldn’t have asked.

  “No, she’s been gone for close to two years now.”

  “Is she back in Michigan?”

  “That’s where she ended up,” Scott said, pushing his nearly empty plate away from him. He rested his forearms on the table and continued. “She’d started living the high life about six months after she came down to Miami,” Scott continued. “I was busy working, and she started spending time with a cousin of Buddy DeMario’s, Anthony Alito, who likes trophy women on his arm, and uses them as punching bags behind closed doors. Marilee got caught up in what she considered the glitz and glamor of gangster life. She and I had gone our separate ways but, still, I cared about her and I knew she was in trouble. So, one morning, I sat outside the apartment she was sharing with ol’ Anthony, and waited for him to leave. Once he did, I went in and got her, and flew her back to Michigan.”

  “Did she want to go?” I was amazed at the turn this girl’s life had taken.

  “Yeah, she did, but she’d been too embarrassed to come ask me for help. She had no money, not enough to get back to Michigan on her own anyway, so she was stuck there. Anthony made sure of that. He kept her isolated and as dependent upon him as a bird in a cage.”

  “Did you see Anthony after you’d gotten Marilee away?”

  “I did,” he said, after chewing on an ice cube from his drink. “He and I had a little heart to heart, and we came to an understanding.”

  “Oh? And what was that?” I asked.

  Scott just smiled, and I didn’t press him.

  “So, even though Marilee went back to Michigan, you remained in Miami,” I said.

  “Yeah, emotionally, I’d moved on and I had my business to worry about. Chalk’s Ocean Air was the only charter plane service in South Florida, so I decided to start my own. The folks at Chalk’s didn’t consider me a threat. They had too much work as it was. They’re good people. They even gave me use of their runway and space in one of their hangars.”

  “How’s Marilee these days?” I asked.

  “She drowned in Lake Michigan nearly a year ago. I heard she went for a midnight swim and never made it back to shore. Some folks think she wanted to die. She’d gotten mighty lost. I didn’t talk to her after taking her back to Michigan, so I’ll never know what was really going on in her head.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and truly was.

  “Truth is, she probably came to a kinder end than she would have if she’d continued hanging around with scum like Anthony.”

  “Still, it’s gotta hurt,” I said. The pain was evident in his eyes.

  “Lily, we all lose people we love. Sometimes we think there’s more we could have done, while other times, we know it was completely out of our hands. But either way, you just have to let them go. Otherwise, a big part of you dies right along with them.” He smiled a soft, wistful smile.

  “So you have a new lady friend these days?” I asked, thinking back to his comment about his apartment being a mess because his ‘lady had been gone for a couple of weeks.’

  He looked confused. “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, you told me when I was at your apartment the other day that your lady had been gone for—”

  He cut me off. “My cleaning lady, Lily,” he chuckled softly. He was clearly amused. “Just my cleaning lady, that’s all.” He looked at me closely, as if he was trying to figure out what exactly I was thinking.

  Just then, our waitress placed a round of drinks in front of us, ones we hadn’t ordered.

  “Drinks from Mama,” she said, when I started to tell her they weren’t ours. “Dey ones she make herself. ‘Witch’s Tears,’” she said as if that would clear up the mystery as to what they were and why they’d been sent to us.

  “Well, in that case,” Scott said, lifting his glass in a toast. “To Mama.” He sipped the dark amber-colored liquid in the cordial glass.

  “Please thank her for us,” I said before the waitress walked away. “Really, what is it?” I asked softly, leaning toward Scott. I wasn’t about to drink it without knowing.

  “Heck if I know.” He shrugged. “But it’s damn delicious,” he said before taking another sip.

  Tentatively, I tasted it. It was strong, but it was, indeed, delicious. It tasted like a mellow brandy, with just a hint of honey in it. Fortunately, I’d eaten a lot so the calypso punch had lost some of its impact, but the Witch’s Tears had a completely different effect. The concoction didn’t hit me in the stomach as it went down the way the rum drink had, nor did it cause the same light-headedness that the punch did. Instead, it seemed to slow things down a bit, as though the people moved around me at three-quarters of the speed they had before. The drink also seemed to sharpen my senses. Things came into sharper focus, and I was able to distinguish sounds better. Instead of the room sounding like a cacophony of harsh noises, I could clearly hear the different pitches of people’s voices, as well as hear each musical instrument as a separate beautiful entity. Oddly enough, I was no longer tired, but fully alert, and happily content. Even with the shift in my senses and mood, I felt completely in control of myself, and calm.

  The band began playing a song with a beat as slow as a heart at rest. Then, it slowly increased, but only enough to begin to raise the temperature of those moving in sync to the rhythm, before the pace dropped down again. “Dance with me,” Scott said, standing up and coming around to the back of my chair.

  Feeling every muscle as it moved in my body, I stood up and walked out to the dance floor with Scott close behind me. Then, I turned to him. This dance, unlike the waltz or the tango, with their scripted steps and moves, demanded that our bodies move together in perfect sync to a rhythm that was ancient, mysterious, and innate.

  Heat built up inside of me, dampening my silk top and causing it to cling to me, which only made me that much more aware of the intense heat coming off Scott’s chest and his St. Christopher’s medal, both of which were pressing against me. We gyrated slowly with the tempo, and, at one point, Scott held me slightly away from him so that he could watch my eyes, gauge my mood and emotions. We danced for a long time, holding each other and moving against each other, as the temperature kept rising.

  “I’m burning up,” I said softly to him.

  “Let’s go for a swim,” he whispered.

  “Okay.”

  Taking me by the hand, he led me off the dance floor, then tossed some bills on our table. We walked out of Minerva’s without saying another word.

  Chapter 30

  Out of the Darkness

  We walked several blocks down to Junkanoo Beach, keeping away from the busyness of the wharf, which was still alive with people on-loading and off-loading ship
s. We walked to where there was just enough light from the wharf to see, but not so much that we were easily seen. Light from a half moon softly illuminated the water, creating a phosphorescent effect to the caps of the gentle waves, while turning the water a grayish blue.

  Without saying a word, Scott took off all of his clothes, then ran to the water’s edge and dove into an incoming wave. I just stood there, stunned by his beautiful nakedness, as well as debating whether I should strip down entirely, too. Finally, I disrobed down to my peach-colored tap pants, which were nothing more than loose-fitting silk shorts, and my cream-colored bra, then dove into the water. The coolness on my warm skin was refreshingly shocking and when I surfaced, I swam closer to Scott, who was treading water in front of me, watching me.

  “The water feels good,” I said, pushing my hair away from my face.

  “Hmm hmm,” Scott agreed, still watching me closely. “Come here,” he said in a low voice.

  I swam closer to him until there were just a couple of feet between us.

  “You’re a pretty gutsy dame, Lily Strickland,” he said with a quizzical smile, as if trying to figure me out. “I always kind of thought you were, starting with that night I saw you at the Lemon Tree, celebrating someone’s birthday.”

  “Francine Hollister’s,” I reminded him. I was amazed he even remembered that we’d been there.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” he laughed, “you sure can cut a rug. You danced those other gals under the table when you won the Charleston contest at the Biltmore. That set of gams on you didn’t hurt, either. Those legs alone could win a contest.”

  I laughed, amazed, again, that he remembered that night, as well. “What were you doing at the Biltmore that night? Was Chick trying to convince you to come back to work for him again?”

  “Yeah, he was.” He smiled. “But I was there for other reasons, too.”

  Suddenly, the amusement on his face was replaced by a look of intrigue. “So, Lily, tell me; why all the questions about who I see?”

  I was both embarrassed and indignant. “I haven’t asked you about everyone you see.”

  “Well, you wanted to know about Marilee,” he pointed out. “And then who my ‘lady’ was, which, as it turned out, was simply the gal who cleans my house. So, why all the interest?” He looked as though he was being thoroughly entertained.

  “I was just making conversation, that’s all,” I assured him firmly. “If you’d like, we can discuss plans for tomorrow, and hooking Chick up with the cargo. We really need to figure—”

  “I’m still thinking on all of that.” Scott cut me off. “No, no,” he smirked. “Let’s get back to what we were just talking about. So you were just making polite conversation,” he reminded me.

  “That’s right!” I nodded. “First of all, who you see or don’t see is none of my business—”

  “Agreed,” Scott interjected. “And secondly?”

  “Secondly; I really don’t care.”

  “Okay,” Scott replied, “fair enough. But since we’re asking questions—even though you say you’re not—I’m gonna ask a few, too, okay?”

  “Fine,” I said firmly, though I wasn’t too sure I liked the direction this was going.

  “Have you ever swam naked with a man before?” he asked, looking quite amused again.

  “I’m not naked,” I disagreed.

  “Oh, really?” Scott said, eyebrows lifting. “You might as well be.” His eyes shifted from my face to my chest, and as I followed his gaze, I saw that my breasts and nipples were as clearly defined beneath the thin cream-colored silk of my bra as they would have been if they’d been totally bare. And I knew, without even having to check, that my tap pants would be even more transparent since the material was thinner than my bra was. Mortified and at a loss for words, I crossed my arms across my chest.

  “You look like you’re getting ready to lie down in a casket!” he laughed. “Lord, lady, do you think I haven’t seen a woman’s breasts before?”

  I would have bet my last hundred dollars on that answer.

  “All kidding aside,” Scott continued. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can swim back in.”

  “No,” I said, almost too quickly. “I’m fine. It feels good.” In truth, I wasn’t sure if I was just too embarrassed to get out of the water in my near-naked state (although, I knew at some point I’d have to), or if I was just enjoying the moment with Scott and didn’t want it to end. Considering the fact that he could already see as much as there was to see, I was pretty sure it was the latter.

  “So, what’s going on between you and the good doctor?” Scott bluntly asked.

  His question caught me completely off guard. It seemed to come out of nowhere. “Nothing…I mean…nothing more than what you saw,” I said weakly, my voice sounding strained.

  “How long have you been seeing each other?” he pushed.

  “We’re not seeing each other,” I quickly corrected him, and I could hear the anger building in my voice as I did. “Look, I met him when I helped take care of the patients who were hospitalized because of the hurricane. The hospital was short-staffed already. Then a few of the hospital’s personnel died in the storm, which only made things that much worse. There were well over a hundred patients for every doctor, and half that many for every nurse. They took all the spare hands they could, so I offered them mine.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was almost a month short of my eighteenth birthday.”

  “Does the good doctor always hook up with high school girls?”

  “We didn’t hook up, and would you please quit calling him the ‘good doctor’? He’s a fine man. A good man. A—” I realized what I’d just said. “Okay, so he really is ‘the good doctor.’ He’s just not my good doctor. He’s married and—”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Scott said rather sarcastically. “But, maybe they won’t be married for too much longer. He’s moved out, from what I hear.”

  “It’s none of my business whether or not they remained married,” I said heatedly. “That’s between the two of them.”

  “Actually, Miss Strickland, I think the real problem with their marriage is that there are three of you in it.”

  “Listen, Mr. Monroe, all I asked you to do was to help me replace Chick’s liquor. I didn’t ask for all of your moral platitudes and lectures. For someone who’s always got a different woman on his arm, and keeps a running account of them in those pictures on your wall, you have one hell of a nerve.”

  Suddenly, Scott closed the distance between us so that we were only a foot apart.

  “Miss Strickland,” he said in a low, intense voice. “Every minute you spend with Neil Aldrich—those very same minutes you adamantly deny spending with him—you’re moving further away from the people who love you, and anyone else who could really care about you if given half a chance. At least respect yourself enough to admit what you feel for the man, and then decide what you want to do about it. Until you do that, you’re acting like some cheap hussy who enjoys playing with fire and doesn’t care about what she does or who she does it with as long as she gets her kicks out of it.”

  The insult was so far below the belt that I instantly reacted by slapping him across the face as hard as I could. The impact made my hand sting, though Scott just smiled, but not before I saw his eyes flash, even in the muted light, making him look quite dangerous and anything but amused.

  Suddenly, he grabbed me by my upper arms and kissed me. His mouth and tongue were hot, invasive, and powerful. And, whether I intentionally wanted to or not, I kissed him back. As our bodies pressed together, I could feel his warm skin against mine despite the coolness of the water, and I could also feel the reaction of his body in response to mine. And he wasn’t the only one. I could feel the aching and longing building up inside of me, just as I knew it was in him, but before anything more cou
ld happen; before either of us could push the other to a place we couldn’t return from but would forever regret going to, I placed my hands against his chest and pushed away from him. Turning around, I dove into the water to get away from him, and quickly swam back to shore. I didn’t hear splashing behind me, so I knew he wasn’t following me, and I never looked back as I hurriedly got into my clothes and started back toward the hotel. As I made my way down the shadowed streets, I prayed that no one would jump out of the darkness at me; attacking me as some sort of macabre payment for the error of my ways, and the inescapable sins of my youth.

  Chapter 31

  Whispered Truth

  I stood on the gallery, overlooking the empty indoor pool on the Viceroy of India, and marveled at the extravagant appointments filling just that one room alone. Even the railing I was leaning on, with its intricately scrolled ironwork, was a thing of beauty. As I toured the ship by myself, I tried to pay attention to certain details so that I could give an accurate description to my family. My mother, alone, would ask me a hundred questions about the interior details, and since this was supposed to be the reason for my impromptu trip to Nassau, I needed to be ready with a hundred answers.

  I hadn’t seen Scott since I’d left him behind at the beach the night before, and though I looked out my door at the White Dolphin about an hour later and saw lights on in his cottage across the way, I hadn’t seen any other evidence of him being around, at least not until that morning. I’d gotten up early from a fitful night’s sleep and noticed that a note had been shoved under my front door. Quickly retrieving it, I saw it was from Scott. Apparently, there’d been some problem about the sixty hams of scotch we were supposed to get from Gertrude, and he’d had to go down to the docks to straighten things out. In his note, he told me to check out of the hotel, eat something and then take the tour of the ocean liner, which was docked at the same wharf he’d be on. Once he was done, he’d meet me on the ship, by the pool at about 10:00 a.m. I checked my watch and saw that it was twenty after. I was starting to worry, but I suddenly heard a familiar, deep voice behind me.