by J C Ryan
Margot had told her part of the truth about her family, only keeping the names consistent with what she’d said before. Ida knew she was from a wealthy family, the only daughter of parents who’d inherited vineyards and two wineries from their parents, uniting two winegrowing families who’d been neighbors for more than a century. She’d mentioned that she’d studied for a career, since it was her brother who would inherit the operations and even now ran them. She’d told Ida that she and her brother were very close and implied that they, she and her brother, were both well to do.
Ida had been reticent about her family, though. Margot thought it might be because Ida’s family was not distinguished like hers. It didn’t matter to her. She was egalitarian, not snobbish about the lower economic classes at all.
***
IDA WASN’T ON the beach this morning. Must be an errand in town, Margot thought. Ida’s company had been so constant that she’d had no opportunity to read the books she’d brought with her. Fortunately, they were all on her eReader, so no one would have to wonder why a young woman on holiday in a tropical paradise was reading an economics book by a French author—in English.
Once she had the shade situated so the eReader’s screen wouldn’t have too much glare, Margot leaned back in her chaise lounge and propped one elbow on a wooden armrest. Next to her, just outside her peripheral vision, was a tiny redwood folding table, just the right size for the cheese, grapes, and sparkling water she’d brought out for a snack. Deeply immersed in her reading, oblivious to her surroundings, she reached for the water without looking and shrieked when her hand encountered something furry.
With arms and legs flailing, she tried to scramble out of the chaise, upsetting it sideways in the process. She dropped her eReader and oriented herself on hands and knees. A glance in the direction of the little table showed the reason for her scare—a big, shaggy, black dog gulping down the last bit of cheese on the plate, readying itself to go for the grapes. When the dog saw her looking at it, it sat down nicely and offered her a big dog-style grin, with mouth open wide and tongue lolling out. The look on its face was so happy, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Well, hello, Monsieur Chien! Who are you, and who invited you to my party?”
She pushed herself to her feet and walked toward the dog, who remained seated and tracked her approach with intelligent eyes. When she could reach him, she dropped again to her knees and petted him with her right hand, while her left dug in vain in the thick fur for a collar and tag. She sat back on her folded knees in the sand and asked, “What shall I do with you, eh? You are a handsome fellow. Someone must be looking for you, though. You don’t seem to be a stray. And by the way,” she remarked more severely, “are you supposed to be eating cheese and grapes? I’ve heard it isn’t good for dogs. Well, I actually know for French dogs, it’s bad. But then, you don’t look French to me.”
That was when a deep voice said from behind her, “Only if they’re lactose intolerant. But this rascal knows better than to beg food, let alone steal it.”
She looked up in surprise, then quickly turned her face away. The fellow had spoken in flawless French. He could be paparazzi. Her anonymity was in danger!
“I’m sorry about this, miss.” The man was righting her chair and dusting the sand off her eReader. Then he scolded the dog. “Digger, for shame! Apologize to the lady!”
To her amusement, the dog hung its head and belly-crawled toward her, putting its chin on her leg.
“Apologies do not come with drool, Digger. Get your head off her.”
The dog moved its head, crawled a few inches closer, and stuck his nose under her arm. She laughed out loud.
“Monsieur, I think your dog is laughing at you. Or perhaps at me.”
“He’s definitely having a good time. My apologies again. He’s usually better behaved. He must sense that you like dogs.”
“Indeed, I do. I was raised with Briards. This fellow reminds me a bit of my own dog, except that my Hugo was blond, not black, and he had longer fur.”
“Digger’s a Dutch Shepherd. Believe it or not, he’s well-trained. I don’t know what came over him.”
Margot accepted the man’s extended hand to pull her to her feet. “Rowan Donnelly,” he said.
He politely let go of her hand, but his gaze stayed on her face. She detected no recognition.
“Jacqui Madrolle. Where are you from, Monsieur Donnelly? Your French is excellent, but that is not a French name.”
“My ancestors are from Ireland. It’s an old family name. Not so common anymore. I’m told it used to be O’Donnelly, but you know what it’s like these days—everything gets abbreviated or ‘acronymed’, so I might end up with the surname OD or just D sometime in the future.”
She started giggling.
He hadn’t exactly told her where he was from, but she had either not noticed the evasion, or noticed it and overlooked it, or noticed it but didn’t care.
“Have you studied in France?”
“You’re referring to my accent, I assume. I’ve never been to France. I can’t explain it, but when I learn a language, I take on the accent of my teacher.”
“What an amazing trait. I wish I was able to do that. I am told my English and Italian accents are horrible.”
With his last statement, Rex Dalton lied with equanimity. He’d been to France, all right, but never in an official capacity. He’d done nothing there that he could discuss with the pretty woman Digger had introduced him to. Giving her a false name as well, was for security—he didn’t consider it a lie.
Rex would have liked to stay and talk with the woman. She wasn’t as stunning as some of the women he’d met on his adventures, but something about her led him to believe she’d be interesting. Her eyes kept flicking to her chaise and the eReader he’d placed on it when he picked them up.
“Again, I apologize for my dog. Perhaps we can chat another time?” He made the overture a question with a slight rise in tone, probing for the reaction that would let him know whether she cared to become acquainted or not.
“That would be nice.” When she smiled, her eyes lit up, and it transformed her facial features into something very attractive.
“I hope to see you soon, then.” Rex pointed at Digger and said, “You. Home. You’re in trouble, mister.”
Digger got up, shook off the sand, all over Jacqui and Rex, and trotted away, leaving them open-mouthed in astonishment, and in Rex’s case, indignation.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say,” Rex muttered. “It looks like he’s set on embarrassing me today.”
“It’s nothing. Please don’t worry. I love dogs.” to Rex’s amazement, Jacqui was still smiling. She gave a wave goodbye as she picked up her chair and eReader and headed toward one of the little huts in the resort. Rex made a note of which one, before turning to catch up with Digger.
When he did, he stopped the dog and made Digger turn to face him. He waved his index finger at him. “What was that all about, you scoundrel? You have never behaved that way before. You’ve humiliated me.”
Digger must have sensed that this rebuke was not a serious one, so, his only response was a grin that Rex imagined was smug, as if he were saying, “Well, you needed to meet a nice girl, didn’t you?”
Answering the imagined question, Rex said aloud, “No, I didn’t.”
Digger tilted his head. That definitely meant, “What are you on about? I can’t read your mind, stupid.”
Rex determined that there was simply no way to punish the dog. In the first place, the incident was now in the past, and Digger wouldn’t associate it with any punishment, that was beside the fact that Digger’s body language told Rex he believed he did nothing wrong.
Secondly, there was no kind of punishment he could think of that would fit the ‘crime’. That’s if it was a crime to begin with—to be guilty of a crime one has to have a guilty conscience, and Digger didn’t display any of that. On the contrary, what he displayed was that he’d
engineered a brilliant plan to introduce the leader of his pack to the nice woman on the beach and that was deserving of praise, not reprimand.
At the end of his musings Rex looked at Digger and said, “Well, okay, you’re off the hook, but next time, let’s plan it together. You have to understand humans are a bit more subtle than canines. Okay?”
Digger just smiled.
Chapter 7
Fatumara Bay, Port Vila, Vanuatu
FOR THE NEXT morning, Rex had planned a hike to the interior and another game of hide and seek. Digger was getting better at coming out of hiding when called, even if Rex hadn’t found him. Sometimes Rex had the Kong for him, and sometimes not. The secret to training a working dog was to make praise the reward, not food and treats. Rex always made sure to give Digger lavish praise and wait long enough so that Digger couldn’t make a connection between his performance and getting a treat.
Though there were plenty of paths to get inland from his hut, Rex wittingly chose the one that led past Jacqui’s veranda. He didn’t expect to see her out, as it was quite early, but to his delight, she was sitting there with a blonde woman who was about the same age or slightly younger. Both had large mugs in their hands, coffee, he presumed. Jacqui smiled and waved, while the other woman turned to look curiously at him.
He could just imagine what was being said as he and Digger went past, Digger on leash for the trek through the populated areas before they reached the bush. “Who’s that?” the blonde woman would be saying. And Jacqui would answer, “Oh, just some man with a rowdy dog. We met on the beach yesterday when his dog helped himself to my food.” They would laugh or shake their heads at the thought of the misbehaving dog, and that would be the end of it.
But maybe a game of Frisbee at this end of the beach tomorrow would be entertaining.
Tired from a fifteen-mile round trip and a few hours playing hide and seek in the jungle, Rex and Digger turned in as soon as darkness fell that night.
Rex was now convinced Digger would perform the hiding act perfectly if the need arose. He hadn’t been able to find the dog in any of the places he’d hidden. Digger even upped the ante on the game without being told, by climbing a tree and hiding in its broad leaves. Rex had been astonished, but Digger just gave him a look that said, “Well, what else did you expect from a dog genius?”
Digger’s talent for climbing trees was one of the things that charmed Rex enough to overcome his childhood fear of dogs, back when Digger was Trevor Madigan’s teammate. It was not as if he could climb trees like a cat or a monkey, but if there were enough low hanging branches and support for him, he did it with relative ease. It had come in handy in several of Rex’s adventures since then, and now had a new use. That he’d thought to do it on his own without being commanded to do so gave Rex another level of respect for the dog’s intelligence.
“Hmm, Digger, I had my doubts, but now I’m one hundred percent sure you contrived that ‘introduction’ to the lovely Jacqui Madrolle on purpose. Didn’t you?”
The sigh coming from Digger could only have meant, “Of course I did.”
***
REX HAD DETERMINED that the bay on which the resort was located was safe, and because of the shark nets, had none of the deadly sea-dwellers of the open ocean on the beachside of the nets. It was time to implement his plans to ‘accidentally’ bump into Jacqui, so he took the Frisbee and headed with Digger to her end of the beach. Digger insisted on barking at the waves and chasing the receding foam as Rex jogged in the firm sand close to the tide line. But he didn’t need to be invited twice to run into the waves with Rex when they came to a likely spot.
Rex laughed out loud at Digger’s antics. He’d chase the water as it drew back, and then bark and splash noisily when the next wave lifted him off his feet and deposited him back on the shore. The surf was high enough today that Rex didn’t worry about Digger swimming too far out. He always came floating back on the wave, only to run out again, barking madly, as if the sea were taunting him.
After an hour of that kind of fun, Rex had all but forgotten his ulterior motive, even when he enticed Digger out of the water with the Frisbee. He threw it a few times, and Digger dutifully brought it back. On the fourth or fifth throw, though, the wind caught it. Digger was racing to catch it, and Rex caught his breath as he saw the impending disaster—Digger rushing forward, his eyes fixated on the prize.
“Damn, not how I envisaged this meeting,” Rex mumbled. “I didn’t literally mean bump into her…”
It looked as if Digger was unaware of what was about to happen as he took a flying leap at the Frisbee and crashed headlong into Jacqui, who’d come down to the beach, probably to see what all the noise was about.
Jacqui landed flat on her back and Digger on his feet, like a cat. He immediately began wagging his tail, whining, and licking her face, joyful to see his new friend and apologetic all at once. Rex saw the whole thing from twenty yards away and came running through the shifting sand, losing one of his flip-flops in the process.
When he got to her, she said to Digger, “We have to stop meeting like this,” and burst into laughter. She was still flat on her back, trying to fend off the sixty-pound Digger, who was determined to show how sorry he was by kissing and licking her face while letting out soft whines.
“Digger!” Rex shouted. To Jacqui, he said as he extended a hand to help her up for the second time in two days, “I really don’t have any explanation for this. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t blame Digger. He was watching the Frisbee and didn’t see me,” she told him. “And speaking of which, where did it go?”
Rex looked around and spotted the bright red object lying a few yards away. “Digger, fetch the Frisbee.”
Digger trotted off and came back with the disc in his mouth, dropped it at Rex’s feet, and gave a soft woof. Then, unbidden, he went after the lost flip-flop and brought it, too.
“Are you all right? You took quite a spill,” Rex said.
“I’m fine, just a bit shaken up. Maybe I need to walk a bit to see if everything works right.” She smiled as she said it, to let him know she was joking.
Rex slipped his foot back into a slobbery flip-flop. As if in accord, he and Jacqui turned and started walking down the beach, toward Rex’s hut, with Digger dancing around them in obvious delight. He could see Digger taking Jacqui’s feet out from under her again in his enthusiasm.
As they walked with a more sedate Digger at Rex’s side and Jacqui on the other, nearer the bay, they chatted about the weather, about Digger’s boundless energy, and about when they’d each arrived and what sights they’d seen so far. Jacqui was fascinated by Rex’s story of his hike to the center of the island and back the previous day.
“Why hike? Why not just drive?” she asked.
Rex smiled broadly. “For one thing, I haven’t rented a car. And for another, I like to hike. And Digger needs the exercise. As you can see, he’s a highly energetic dog.”
“Indeed. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. Maybe my friend Ida would, though. She’s got lots of energy, which I seem to be lacking.” She stopped talking abruptly and then changed the subject, asking Rex what he did when he wasn’t vacationing.
“I’m a history teacher on sabbatical, collecting oral history from indigenous people for a travelogue, I think,” he said.
“You think?”
“Well, I came into a little money recently, and I’ve been bumming around, telling myself I’m doing research. But I really have nothing to research for such as a PHD or Masters, unless I write it up for my own pleasure.
“What do you do?”
She looked away from him, across the bay. After a few moments, she said, “I’m thinking about whether to continue in my job or take some time off.”
Rex was trained to detect when people were lying, and that was exactly what Jacqui was doing, at the very least she sidestepped his question. But he was definitely not going to confront her about it. He could only wo
nder why she did. Besides, he just lied to her, she probably had the right to return the favor, although he didn’t get the impression that she picked up on his lie.
Rex smiled, “I can highly recommend time off, if you can afford it,” he answered. Then he added, “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay. I do need to work. I can afford a little time off.”
Instead of sharing more of her background with him, she immediately began to talk about her friend Ida.
“You must meet her. Sweet girl. She escaped to Vanuatu to contemplate a break up with a boyfriend, and then the poor thing gets a text from the jerk that he’s breaking up with her.” She hesitated for a moment and then continued. “I’m not telling you anything she wouldn’t tell you herself. The girl simply has no filters. She told me about her plan on the first day we met.”
Rex thought this Ida was probably much less interesting than Jacqui, but he agreed to have lunch with the two of them the next day. By that time, they’d walked to the rickety fence that separated the resort’s private beach from the public beach beyond, turned, and walked back almost to Jacqui’s hut.
“I think I’ll go in and have some breakfast,” she said. “See you tomorrow? You’ll come here between one and two?”
“I will,” he said, marveling at the casual, hour-long range she’d given him. Island time, he thought, a true laid-back lifestyle, and he had no problem with it. It was the first time in a long time that he felt relaxed.
He stood there, watching Jacqui’s progress toward her hut, until Digger called him back to the present with a soft, questioning woof.
“Oh, right. We haven’t had breakfast either, have we, boy? Let’s go get some.”
Digger took off at an easy lope, inviting Rex to chase him. Rex kicked off his flip-flops, paused to pick them up, and then pelted toward Digger as fast as he could in the sand. Digger looked back, saw him coming, and put on speed. Rex was too out of breath to laugh when they reached his hut, but the sight of Digger skidding to a halt and then sitting down as if he’d been waiting for a long time made him laugh anyway.
