by Jane Peart
The adage, “opposites attract,” thrust itself into Robbie’s mind, and she brushed it away impatiently. Forget any irrational possibilities, she chided herself. Tyler Lang and I live in two different worlds.
When she got to Bermuda she would spend her time shopping, swimming, sunning, and just relaxing, and return to Atlanta with a good tan. And that was that.
There was the usual excited stirring among the passengers as the plane began its descent. Buckled into her own seat by this time, Robbie pressed her face against the small window, eager for her first glimpse of Bermuda. Could it really be the island paradise the travel brochures claimed and even Trans-Continent’s own “Bermuda Holiday,” as the folder advertised?
As the plane banked, Robbie saw a stretch of crescent beach with sand as delicate a pink as the inside of a shell, and water the dazzling, unbelievable shades of blue, turquoise, and jade. As they flew in lower, she saw green hillsides dotted with rainbows of flowers and houses in pink, blue, yellow, and pale green-looking for all the world like a toy village.
Once the plane landed and the door was opened, Robbie stood at the entrance bidding goodbye to the deplaning passengers. Breathing the soft, balmy air, she knew that Bermuda was going to live up to all her expectations.
She wanted to go exploring immediately or even to give in to the temptation offered by the hotel’s sparkling swimming pool which she and Stacy passed on their way to their cottages, but Stacy could not wait to take Robbie shopping and let her see for herself all the marvelous specialty stores. Assuring herself that there would be plenty of time for everything in the next three days, Robbie changed out of her uniform into cotton slacks and shirt and joined Stacy to go into Hamilton, the capital of Bermuda.
At first Robbie was overwhelmed as she followed Stacy from store to store and saw the abundance of items to be had—the lovely woolens, beautiful porcelain, silver and English china, coral jewelry and fine leathers, all at more reasonable prices than they could be purchased in the United States. This, along with the tasteful displays and the courteous clerks, all in an unhurried atmosphere, added to the pleasure of shopping.
No one seemed annoyed if Robbie was not ready to buy but simply wanted to browse. Instead of being a frustrating or tiring experience, even with a tireless shopper like Stacy, Robbie enjoyed every minute of the spree. The ambiance of Bermuda itself wove its spell of quiet charm from the soothing pastel colors of the buildings and the presence of abundant flowers everywhere. After the hectic pace of city stores or the sameness of suburban shopping malls, Robbie found it all a welcome change.
When at last Stacy had come to the halfway mark on her Christmas list, and both girls had their arms loaded with her various packages, they came back to the hotel.
On the path back to their adjoining cottages, they met Tyler Lang, dressed for tennis in white shorts and a short-sleeved knit shirt, contrasting sharply with his deep tan. In the sunlight his hair gleamed like burnished gold. He stopped and asked with a smile, “Well, did you two buy out the shops?”
“Not quite,” Stacy admitted, “but there’s always tomorrow.”
“How about my buying the weary shoppers a drink?” T. J. suggested.
“Sounds great.” Stacy agreed without a consulting glance at Robbie.
Without appearing bluntly rude, Robbie hardly could refuse. Reluctantly, she went with them to a table on the terrace. There was always a special camaraderie among the crews when on layovers, and Robbie had flown long enough to know that, unless you wanted it otherwise, things stayed simply friendly and casual. On most long layovers, and when a crew had been flying together for a period of time, everyone went his or her separate way. Once in a while a special relationship happened, but it was up to the individuals what they wanted to do off-duty. There were no set rules of conduct. But, since this was her first time with this particular crew on this flight, she felt somewhat obligated to let Stacy take the lead.
Under ordinary circumstances, Robbie would have had no objection. She knew that it was Tyler Lang’s unsettling effect on her that she minded. She would have liked to keep their relationship confined to “on flight” and strictly professional, but this casual encounter would not change that.
They were seated at a table beside the pool under a bright blue umbrella when the waiter came for their order.
T. J. asked, “Well, ladies, what’s your pleasure?”
“I’ll have iced tea,” Robbie said.
“What? Aren’t you going to sample Bermuda’s special welcome drink, a rum swizzle?” Tyler asked in amazement.
“No thanks. Iced tea sounds good to me,” Robbie replied evenly.
“But it’s traditional!” he persisted. “Especially for a first-time visitor.”
“Iced tea is what I want;’ Robbie maintained, beginning to feel annoyed that he was making such a big deal of it.
“You’re sure? The no-alcohol ban for crew members only applies to twenty-four hours before flight time.
“Robbie turned and looked directly at him. “Yes, I know.”
Tyler hrugged slightly, but she saw a hint of reluctant admition in his expression before he turned his head to give the order to the waiter.
Robbie stirred uncomfortably. What difference should it make to T.J. Lang that she did not drink? Unless it made him uncomfortable. Robbie had never felt it necessary before to explain herself, and she was determined not to be embarrassed by doing so now.
The other two ordered rum swizzles. Their copilot, Clive Amory, sauntered up and joined them just then. While he and Stacy discussed presents Clive might take home to his wife and children, T.J. turned to Robbie and asked, “So, what was your first imptession of Bermuda?”
“Well, about all I’ve really seen so far is the inside of some fabulous shops.”
“There’s a lot more to see than a few streets and the interiors of gift shops and boutiques. I’d suggest—”
T.J. was interrupted by Clive’s asking, “Ready to get beaten to a pulp, fellow?”
“I’m ready to take you six love the whole set!” T. J. retorted. Amid the laughter, the talk then turned to tennis. After they finished their drinks, the men excused themselves and left for the tennis courts.
On the way to their cottages Stacy told Robbie about a quaint little restaurant nearby that served a typical Bermuda menu and suggested they go there for an early dinner. Robbie consented.
She was surprised’ to discover that the meal had a decidedly Southern flavor. ‘Hoppin’ John, a dish of rice and blackeyed peas, was labeled “an original Bermuda recipe” and served with ground beef cooked with tomatoes and green pawpaws. A rich dessert of layers of guava jelly and thick cream followed.
Tired from the flight arid their shopping excursion, the girls parted for the night, each to her own cottage. Robbie indulged in a luxurious bath and fell asleep to the sound of reggae music wafting through her open window from the hotel terrace. She dreamed happily of the two whole days still to be spent in Bermuda.
Chapter Four
Robbie woke up to a room filled with sunlight. A soft breeze billowed the sheer curtains on the floor-length windows. She raised herself on her elbows and looked out through the translucence of the draperies to cloudless blue skies and a deeper blue ocean that stretched endlessly to the horizon.
Her first morning in Bermuda! It seemed like a fairy tale to awaken to all this sun-drenched beauty. Robbie surveyed the pleasant bedroom, with its bamboo furniture and polished chintz pillows in subtle patterns of blue and lemon. A basket of fruit and a bouquet of fresh flowers rested on the dresser.
Robbie had been surprised to discover that Trans Continent crews on layovers were given the same kind of individual pink stucco cottages as other guests of this luxurious hotel. Nestled under palm trees along the many winding paths that spread over the manicured grounds, each little unit was secluded in flowering borders of hibiscus and oleanders.
So this is bow the proverbial, ‘other half’ lives, Robbie tho
ught, stretching lazily in the pillowed comfort of the queen-sized bed.
There were so many enticing possibilities for the day ahead that Robbie was not sure what she would do first. Finally, in spite of the luxury of lying in bed, she flung off the covers and bounded up. Happily Robbie sang the words of one of her favorite Psalms set to music: “This is the day which the Lord hath made! We will rejoice and be glad in it!” She found her bathing suit, put it on, and headed for the swimming pool.
It was still early, and the pool area was empty. Quickly Robbie shed her terry cloth robe and slipped out of her clogs. She went to the deep end and dived in. The sharp, plunging coolness of the water rushed around her as she surfaced and then struck out with firm strokes across the pool. The water sparkled in the morning sunlight and the air on her face was fresh. A singular kind of gladness coursed through her body as she swam. What fun to have the whole pool to herself, to twist and float, dive and dip in its sun-dappled depths! She might as well be a millionairess in her private pool and have this whole beautiful, flower-bordered area as her personal estate. Robbie delighted herself fantasizing as she swam back and forth several times.
At length, she got out, dried herself lightly, and stretched out on one of the cushioned lounge chair. She put on dark glasses and shut her eyes, feeling the warm morning sun needle into her bare skin. She was utterly relaxed after her invigorating swim.
Robbie was not sure how long she had been sunning when the sounds of the diving board’s spring and the splash of water caused her to open her eyes and sit up slightly. She was just in time to se Tyler pull himself out of the pool.
His tanned, muscular body glistened with water in the bright sunlight. He tossed back his wet hair and climbed the ladder to the high diving board again. Positioning himself carefully, he leaped up for a spring and then jackknifed into the pool—a very expert dive, Robbie noted. When he came out of the pool once more, he looked her way,’ lifted one hand in a wave, and then started toward her.
No wonder females from fourteen to forty are captivated by his looks, Robbie mused with reluctant appreciation, watching him. His long-legged, lean, but powerfully built body clad in brief black trunks moved with easy athletic grace along the edge of the pool over to where she lay.
“You’re getting an early start on the day,” he greeted her. “More shopping? Does Stacy have you booked for another raid on Hamilton shops?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Then you can let me show you some other aspects of Bermuda. There are so many choices. There’s St. George—a day in itself. It takes you back to colonial times. Or a glass-bottomed boat cruise to see the undersea wonders, or the Crystal Caves, or the Botanical Gardens. What do you say?”
For a fraction of a second, Robbie hesitated. All sorts of warning signals flashed in her brain. She remembered all the stories she had heard about T.J. Lang’s fatal charm, all the sad tales of other stewardesses permanently hurt by brief flings and sudden finales. Was his reputation as a heartbreaker warranted? There was one way to find out, of course. What could be the harm of a casual, daytime sightseeing date with this attractive, interesting man? Besides, he know Bermuda, and she did not relish being dragged through the shops again today with Stacy. So, why not?
“Are you sure you want to do the ‘touristy’ stuff?” she asked cautiously. “After all, you’ve seen all those places. Won’t you be bored?”
“Bored? I’m never bored. I don’t tolerate boredom.” He smiled, his square teeth dazzling white against his tan. “Anyway, I believe only boring people get bored. Come on, let’s go! I’ll meet you in twenty minutes in front of the hotel.”
A half-hour later Robbie found ‘Tyler; wearing a dark blue sportshirt and khaki pants, waiting for her where the winding path leading from her cottage crossed the hotel’s boat landing. “We’ll take the ferry across the harbor, and then the island bus over to St. George. It’s a nice ride, and you’ll get to see more of everything,” he told her.
Once seated in the front of the boat and moving across the rippling blue water, Robbie felt the wind tossing her hair and blowing refreshingly on her face. She was glad she’d said yes. Spontaneously she looked up and smiled at ‘Tyler, sitting beside her in the rapidly moving craft.
With the sun sending coppery sparkles through her hair, Captain T.J. Lang noted that Stewardess Roblynn Mallory was even more attractive out of uniform. He liked the yellow poplin wrap skirt, the yellow and green striped blouse, and the bright green espadrilles. She had style, he concluded, congratulating himself on his taste. He smiled broadly back at Robbie. Yes, indeed, the day ahead held promising possibilities.
When they got off the bus in St. George, Robbie felt as if she had stepped backward into another century. The colonial atmosphere was so far removed from today that the whole place might have gone to sleep three hundred years before.
They walked along the enchanting, small, winding streets, seemingly untouched by the passing centuries. There were flowers everywhere—in window boxes, in clay pots, and spilling over the low stone walls in front of the houses. The busy streets and bustle of Hamilton had been left far behind, and Robbie wa5 caught up in a magical time warp.
Crossing King’s Square, Tyler pointed out the stocks and pillory used in the seventeenth century to punish offenders. “You know Bermuda was discovered almost by accident. English colonists on their way to Virginia were caught in a storm at sea and shipwrecked.”
“An ‘ill wind that blows no good,’ right?” Robbie quipped.
“Right!” T. J. gave her an amazed look. “You’re a Shakespeare buff? Then, maybe you know he used Bermuda as his prototype for the island in The Tempest?".
“No! I pave to admit I didn’t know that!” laughed Robbie.
Tyler halted and raised his eyebrows. “Am I being pompous? Showing off?” he asked.
Robbie shook her head, still laughing. “No, not at all I’m fascinated Really!”
“You’re being honest?” He looked doubtful.
The expression on his face surprised her. It even looked a little sheepish. It seemed oddly out of keeping with her first impression of him as an arrogant person. He looked genuinely worried that he might seem conceited.
She raised her hand in a mock salute and said, “Scout’s honor!”
They looked at each other and laughed.
After that little incident, the rest of the day took on an entirely new aura. Her original wariness of him gradually melted, and they developed a delightful camaraderie. T. J. was an interesting and informed companion, sharing all sorts of little insights about different places and things not found in tourist brochures.
The next two hours passed quickly as Robbie and T.J. wandered around this perfect’ gem of a town brimming with unexpected treasures. Almost every building had an historical significance of its own.
They visited St. Peter’s, a charming little church and the oldest Anglican place of worship in the Western hemisphere; and the “Old Rectory,” now a library.
Both places had their stories, and T. J. told them with relish as if he enjoyed sharing something that he himself found fascinating. He took Robbie to the house which, during the American Civil War, was the home of a Confederate agent. It was there that many conspiracies had been hatched and many plans for blockade running plotted by the rebellious adventurers of that day.
The time went by so pleasantly that Robbie was surprised when ‘!Yier announced that it was well after noon and asked if she were hungry. She realized she was.
He took her to a lovely small restaurant where their lunch was served in a garden patio under flowering trees that gave shelter from the hot sun. “They enjoyed delicious seafood salad, chilled melon, tiny individual loaves of banana-coconut bread, and coffee.
When their waiter refilled their cups for the second time, Robbie sighed with contentment and looked around her with pleasure. “This has really been delightful. Thank you,” she said.
“It’s been my pleasure, actua
lly,” Tyler replied. “It’s great fun being with someone who so obviously enjoys everything. So many people play at being sophisticated, thinking it’s ‘un-cool’ to express any real enthusiasm or enjoyment. But you’re different—so open, transparent. It’s a very nice change.”
Change from what, change from whom? Robbie could not help wondering. Is that what he found interesting about her? That she was “different"? Robbie was not sure she knew exactly what he meant or whether she liked being called “different.”
He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table. He looked at Robbie quizzically, saying, “Tell me about yourself. I know by now that you’re more than a pretty face.” He smiled warmly. “And I know you’re more than a smiling representative of Trans-Continent Airlines. I’m curious about what’s underneath that poised surface—what you do on your time off, what kind of books you like, what kind of music you listen to—lots of things. In fact, everything!”
“Everything?” she exclaimed. “That’s a tall order. Isn’t it more fun to flnd out about a person little by little?”
“Maybe, if you have lots of time. But you and I live on airline time, and both of us know what that is. Our paths have never crossed before and chances are that-” he paused. “Given our flying schedules, who knows when we’ll get an opportunity like this to get to know ach other?” he explained. “Maybe I’m just curious. Indulge me. You see, I can’t understand why we’ve never met before now. How long have you been with Trans-Con?”
“Nearly three years,” Robbie answered.
“See? I’ve been with the airline five, and we’ve never been assigned to the same crew before this flight! I’m trying to make up for lost time. Now, begin,” he directed.
“There isn’t all that much to tell. I grew up, went to high school in a small town in Ohio, and went away to college with my best friend as my roommate. We both decided to go into nurses training, and the next year we enrolled in the Good Shepherd Hospital program. Then, in my senior year, a Trans-Con stewardess came to talk to our class, and I applied for training.”
