Authors: Barrett
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Genre Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbian Romance, #Literature & Fiction
Balefire (8 page)
“That’s devastating. Just look at the children’s faces, how awful.” Sil
ke’s breath caught.
“Most of the people I spoke with were surprisingly philosophical about it. Nature sometimes turned on them, but that was life,” Kirin shrugged, “time to move on. They told me that a few miles north of them were churches and schools that provided temporary shelter, but now it was time to rebuild. I don’t know how they do it without power and potable water. But Kenrick told me this is not the first time.” She pointed to the face of an old woman holding an infant. “The people are amazingly resilient.”
Silke stared at the final image of a magnificent sunrise from the tropical beach. A new day. She saw a correlation, a clear vision of rebuilding after a damaging storm. “Thanks for sharing these.” She looked at Kirin.
Kirin’s crossed her legs and shrugged like a kid. “I was glad to see
them again. It gave me an idea for how to contrast the story with the inter
view I’m doing with Mark and Diane tomorrow morning. After all, didn’t you tell me they resurrected this place?”
Silke smiled. “Oh, believe me, that’s quite a story.” Then she winked.
Chapter Twelve
KIRIN LOOKED UP from her watch and smiled as Diane walked out of the office toward the open-air restaurant where she was waiting for her. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a white tank
top tucked into a pair of navy blue cargo shorts. One of the native ground
skeepers in a clean, white polo shirt interrupted her with a question. Diane held up a hand and checked her cell phone.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. It’s always something around here.” Diane sagged into one of the chairs and took off her sunglasses. “Mark will be along soon. He had to respond to a crisis at the construction site.
Once again, the supplies were late. Now, the carpenters are held up be
cause the concrete blocks are delayed.”
Kirin shook her head. “I don’t know how you do all this and still smile.”
Diane laughed warmly. “Because we love it . . . most of the time. The staff is like family. The place can run itself sometimes.”
“Do you mind if I take some notes?” Kirin pointed to her spiral note
book.
“Of course not. That’s what we’re doing. I’m happy to answer any of your questions.”
Kirin opened her notebook and jotted a couple of quick notes. “Should we wait for Mark?”
Diane thought about it for a minute. “Why don’t we get started by ordering some breakfast, and I’ll answer questions until Mark gets here.”
An hour flew by as Mark and Diane regaled Kirin with stories of their rags to riches success.
Mark’s phone rang. “Sorry, I need to get back. If you need something else, just let me know. And thanks for looking after Silke.” He waved and hustled out of the restaurant.
“I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to do this,” Kirin said. “I think it’ll be a great article, and I will send you a copy before it’s published in case you need to make any corrections.”
“I enjoyed it. You’re very easy to talk to. I asked Jose, our night man
ager, to put together an envelope full of our promotional material. It’ll be at the front desk if you think that would help.” Diane patted Kirin’s hand. “I want to echo what Mark said. We’re both glad to have met you, and you’re welcome here any time.”
She motioned Flora over and initialed the check. “Do you want to order something for Silke, or do you think she’ll come over here to eat?”
“Her plan was to join me after she showered. But it’s been a while so I may go and check on her. Thank you again for your hospitality.”
After Diane left, Kirin flipped through her notes and added comments or details. Her watch read nine-thirty, and she assumed Silke had changed her mind. As she stood to leave, she saw Silke gamely hobbling across the pool deck toward her.
Brava.
The girl had moxie. Even at this distance, she could see that walking was painful, but Silke’s jaw was set as she carefully navigated the pool lounge chairs.
Flora appeared. “Should I remove these dishes and set a new place for Ms. Dyson?”
“I think that would be an excellent idea.”
Silke walked to the restaurant steps and put out her hand.
“I’m glad to see you,” Kirin said. “How about some breakfast?”
Silke clasped her hand tightly and gingerly climbed the three steps. “I’d love some. I’ve worked up an appetite just getting here.”
She smiled bravely, but Kirin could see the perspiration etching her face.
“How was the interview?” Silke settled in a cushioned cane chair across from Kirin.
“Your friends are amazing,” Kirin said. “I can’t believe all the work they’ve done on this place. Diane even put together a packet of information along with a couple of photographs from the early days. What a transformation.”
Flora brought coffee.
Silke ordered the Belizean breakfast with fry jacks. “I can’t believe how hungry I am. The snacks we had last night weren’t enough to meet the metabolic requirements for healing.” She gave Kirin an impish grin and giggled.
“How is your knee today? From the way you were walking, it looks like it’s still sore. Maybe you should see about a regular cane or crutches.”
“I’m not quite sure how I would manage two canes without looking like I was using a divining rod to find water.” Silke looked up and smiled. In spite of the discomfort, the twinkle had returned to her eyes. That made Kirin happy.
“Just a thought.” Kirin pointed. “You did a good job with the bandage.”
“Well, as I said, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve had to bandage more than one battle scar.”
Kirin knew she was partially joking about her clumsiness but
wondered if there actually were battle scars. She guessed the choking inci
dent wasn’t her first injury. She swallowed her sadness about how this kind and gentle person could be a victim. A watery heat welled up in her eyes and she looked away, hoping Silke wouldn’t see. It was probably a good thing she was leaving the next day. There was nothing she could do—none of her business.
She cleared her throat. “I reconfirmed my flight on the puddle jumper tomorrow morning. Diane suggested I be there a little early to be on the safe side.”
Silke put her fork down but didn’t look up. “She’s right, you never know. This week sure has gone by quickly hasn’t it? I lose all track of time
when I’m down here.” She looked around. “Have you seen Flora? I’d re
ally like more coffee.”
Kirin spotted Flora at her station and motioned her with a pouring ges
ture. “She’s coming. I know what you mean. I feel like I just arrived, but so much has happened.” She wiped the condensation off her water glass with her finger. “I hope we’ll be able to keep in touch. I’d like you to see the article . . . maybe you could write down your contact info?”
Silke took the pen and notebook and started to write. “You have to give me yours as well, especially if you’re going to be in town . . . You know, maybe we could have lunch or something.”
Kirin pulled a business card from her notebook and wrote her cell
phone number on the back. “I’d like that. Would you add your e-mail ad
dress? I’d like to keep in touch, if you think that’s okay.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Silke looked perplexed.
“Well, you know, I don’t know how things are with your partner, and . . .”
Silke waved. “I see. Rachel is possessive, I’ll admit, but I don’t think she spies on me, and I
am
allowed to have friends. At least I think I am.”
Kirin swallowed hard. This felt increasingly awkward. She hesitated. “I know. I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t want to be the cause of any trouble.”
“You won’t be, and I think it’d be fun to keep in touch.”
As they walked back to the condo, Kirin insisted on helping, so Silke took her arm.
“I’m going to try to get a few more pictures while the light is good. But when I get back, would you be interested in taking out one of those kayaks? I mean, is your leg okay?”
“Sure. I can walk to the water and the rest is upper body,” Silke said. “I’ve always wanted to do that but never trusted myself to go alone.”
They laughed as the tension dissipated.
Kirin made a mental note to find a waterproof bag for her camera. Some pictures of the reef and of Silke would be cool.
SILKE WAVED GOODBYE as Kirin ran down the front steps and
across the wide swath of white sand toward the far side of the resort.
Waving goodbye would happen again soon. The thought stirred a heavi
ness in her chest.
She opened her sketchpad and turned to a new page. The slide show had inspired ideas, especially the pictures of the children. Every year she planned to do pen-and-ink drawings of some of the unique aspects of her tropical hideaway and never did. The striking blue skies and white clouds, the jewel-rich shades of blue in the ocean, the lush verdant green foliage,
and the incredible varieties of the tropical fish in the reef provided an ex
traordinary depth of color. What also struck her was the soft fluid lines all around her. The angularity of American civilization was absent.
Silke looked at the damage from the tropical storm and compared it to the visual impact of similar storms on major U.S. cities. Nature yielded to a weather assault, whereas, man-made structures broke. Recovery waxed and waned.
ON THE WAY back to their condo, Kirin spotted a fisherman standing in the water next to the pier. As she got closer, she noticed he was filleting his daily catch. A small boy sat next to him and threw the scraps the man handed him into the air. Several birds hovered high above, waiting to grab one. The smart birds swam in front of him since his throw was never as high as he hoped it would be. She snapped a dozen pictures of the scene. It perfectly depicted her image of life on the islands. It was simple and basic, a miniature circle of life.
Although she had traveled widely and had witnessed this kind of scene in many countries, somehow it felt different this time. This resonated more powerfully. Maybe because she compared this fisherman to the villagers she’d recently seen struggling to rebuild. She had an uneasy sensation in her gut. A deep emotion shifted inside—almost as though she had slowed down to the actual speed of life around her. Could it be that simple?
I wonder how long ago I stopped seeing.
She thought of Silke and wondered how the tragic accident of losing her sight had affected her as an artist. She smiled as she approached the condo. Speaking of artists, her sculptor friend was snoozing on the porch with a sketchbook in her lap.
Kirin sat in the chair next to her and peeked at the sketch. She’d per
fectly duplicated the scene in front of the condo, including the casitas on the right, the numerous palm trees, the gazebo with the swing, and the shoreline with the pier. The fluid grace of the detail made her feel the breeze.
“Amazing,” she whispered.
Silke opened one eye and smiled. She stretched and groaned content
edly. “I’ll bet you think I sleep all the time.”
“Actually, I’m a little jealous of your ability to nod off. I can’t do it.”
Kirin pointed to the sketch. “I didn’t realize your talents extended to draw
ing. This is beautiful.”
Silke laughed. “I have promised myself every single time I come down
here to do some sketches. I’ve always wanted to be able to capture the
lyric beauty of the area. It’s something I can’t manage in three dimen
sions.”
Kirin looked at the sketch again. “I think you’ve captured it beautifully. Just looking at this,” she pointed to the palm tree, “I can feel the breeze and hear the ocean.”
“Seriously? Or are you trying to be nice.” Silke rolled her neck and smiled.
“Completely serious. You could sell this. Promise me you’ll show it to Diane.”
Silke closed the notebook. “Enough of your sweet talk. Are we taking the kayak out?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kirin stood. “You’re sure your knee is okay?”
Silke flexed it. “I think it’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Let me download these pictures and then I’ll go pick up the paddles and life jackets. Do we have any more water bottles?”
“You may want to pick up a couple more. I’ll change and be ready when you get back.”
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, they stood on the shore with their gear loaded into the kayak. Years before, Kirin had done some canoeing and enjoyed it but this looked even more exciting because of the reef. The tour guide warned her to keep an eye out for the water taxis and to paddle to the north end of the property to steer out to avoid traffic from the dock.
Silke happily agreed to have Kirin take the stern position and steer. It
took about fifteen minutes of awkwardness and silliness for them to de
velop a coordinated effort. Once in sync, they made good time.
Kirin watched in awe as Silke powered through the strokes. Her arms
and shoulders were well developed and strong. Kirin’s skill lay in her abil
ity to make quick adjustments to keep them on course. As they neared the reef, the water became quite shallow.
“Hold up,” Kirin said. “Can you see the fish below us?”
Silke balanced the paddle in her lap, took off her sunglasses, and stared into the water for a few minutes. “Yes . . . they’re exquisite.”
Kirin sat mesmerized as their kayak bobbed on the occasional waves. Beneath them, an underwater panorama of coral and fish, gleaming in the dappled sunlight, played like a 3-D film from National Geographic. She took photos, hoping to capture some of the beauty. The wind pushed the
kayak in the other direction, and she took several wide-angle and telescop
ic views of the resort. A nice shot of the main entrance with flags waving above it and palm trees framing the restaurant would be perfect for her review. She leaned back and snapped a couple of shots of Silke’s profile. It was a nice profile shot as she leaned down to get a better glimpse of the underwater show.
“Could you turn this way for a minute?”
Silke complied and laughed. “You don’t need pictures of me, gads.”
“C’mon. It’s my last day, and I want to remember this. Smile?”
Silke responded with an utterly radiant smile. Sunshine lit up her face and frothy white waves crashed over the reef in the background. Yes, she wanted to remember this.
They paddled north along the reef for a while then finally steered the kayak back toward shore. It was leisurely as well as easier with the wind at their back.
Kirin really did want to remember this day. When deadlines threatened and when publishers and customers were demanding her time, she wanted to remember the bliss of having no demands, no accountability, and no guilt.
As the kayak skidded onto the beach, Kirin recognized the crisp white shirt of the activity director as he walked toward them from the pier.
“Hello. Did you enjoy yourselves?” He held the boat as they climbed out.
“It was fantastic,” Silke said as he took her arm.
“I didn’t expect you to come down to meet us,” Kirin said. “I’d have brought the gear back.”
“It was no problem. I took some of our guests down to the dock for the water taxi and saw you coming in. Here let me take those.”
“Thank you very much.” Silke handed him the paddles and life jackets.
He pulled the kayak farther up on the shore and waved to them. “Don’t forget tonight is our Mexican fiesta.”
Chapter Thirteen
SILKE HELD ONTO Kirin’s arm as they climbed the steps to the pool-area festivities. Mariachi music played from a small stage off to the right. All along the main office, vendors displayed arts and crafts. The rest of the deck area held small tables covered with white tablecloths and candles. She could barely see because of the dim light.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to find us a seat,” Silke said. “I can’t see any
thing.”
“I can see why, it’s crowded and not easy to navigate . . . wait.” Kirin looked over the crowd. “I see your friends Bren and Katie. Do you want to join them?”
“Can’t hurt to ask.”
“Silke, over here.” Katie pulled out a chair. “We were hoping you’d show up.”
“I don’t remember this many people before. What’s the occasion?” Silke folded her cane and noticed Kirin move her chair closer.
Bren leaned forward. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“Kirin Foster. I’m glad you guys had a table, not sure where we might have ended up.”
Katie waved at a server. “We already ordered drinks and were about to hit the buffet line.”
Silke looked toward the bar area. She could make out four long serving tables with spotlights focused on the food trays. “I’d love it if you guys could go through and tell me what they are offering before I have to brave that crowd.”
“Sure thing. We’ll be right back,” Bren said.
The server left with their drink order.
“If you’re okay with it,” Kirin said, “I could just fix you a plate.”
How thoughtful.
Silke dreaded the prospect of trying to identify something she wanted. Her memory of the Mexican buffet was vague. Usually it was local and regional foods—freshly caught fish, seasonal fruits, and the always-popular beans, rice, corn, and fried meats. Some of the dishes were spicy but she never remembered which ones.
As if on cue, Diane appeared. “Glad you made it. Paulo told me you were out kayaking today. Did you enjoy it?”
“The fish around the reef were exquisite, and I took some good pictures of the resort—especially some of a local fisherman at your dock,” Kirin said.
“That would have been Francisco. He provided most of the fish for tonight. He caught some beautiful bonefish, be sure to try it.”
“We’re just waiting for Bren and Katie to come back to tell us what’s up there.”
“No need. Why don’t I go up with Kirin and load up a plate for you?” Diane said. “I think I know what you like . . . and what you positively won’t eat.”
Kirin laughed. “Great idea. I’m sure Diane will do better than I would.”
Silke laughed. “All right, you two. Thanks, Diane.”
Kirin followed Diane as Silke tried to watch. It was just too dark. She sipped the beer and closed her eyes. Music played behind her and all around was the sound of animated conversations and laughter. There was a
time when she would have enjoyed the boisterous festive mood,
but without peripheral vision, she remained on high alert for potential ac
cidents. She would have skipped this party for some quiet time, but it was Kirin’s last night, and she wanted it to be special.
“What a fabulous buffet this year,” Bren said. “Where’d Kirin go?”
“Diane came by and offered to get me a plate,” Silke said. “They’re up there somewhere.”
“Cool. How long will you be staying this year?”
Silke scooted closer to the table so she wouldn’t have to shout. “I have another week. Kirin has to leave tomorrow.”
Katie smiled. “She seems very nice.”
“I think so. After all, I haven’t been murdered in my sleep.” She winked.
Bren choked and started coughing.
Katie handed her some water. “I’m sorry I wasn’t inferring anything . .
. I just think she’s . . . so pleasant, you know?”
Silke waved her hand. “I do know. I was teasing. We’ve had a great time. And since she’s never been to Belize, it’s been nice to show off our little gem.”
Bren wiped the front of her shirt. “Well, I’m glad you had some com
pany to help you out. It can’t be easy . . . you know, with the cane and all.”
Silke knew how awkward this must be for them. She’d only met them last year, and they really didn’t know about Rachel. “Thanks. It’s really okay. I’m getting more comfortable navigating, but crowds are still a bit of a challenge.”
“That buffet is amazing.” Kirin put down her plate.
Diane slipped Silke’s plate in front of her and whispered each item and where it was on the plate. Perfect choices—none too hot. “I hope you enjoy and leave room for dessert.”
“Thanks, you’re the best.” Silke squeezed her hand.
After the meal, they sat enjoying coffee.
“Anyone want to look at the artwork?” Katie asked.
“I’ll join you,” Kirin said.
Bren handed Katie some money. “Surprise me.”
“Thanks, honey.”
Silke remembered the story of their romantic meeting on Facebook and the long-distance courtship, happy how it had all worked out.
Glad somebody’s happy
.
“Do you know anything about fishing trips?” Bren asked.
Silke snapped back to the present. “I’m pretty sure Paulo could set one up. Seems to me he does that when there’s interest and enough people.”
“Good idea, I’ll check with him. Are you interested?”
Silke laughed. “I’m not much into fishing. When I was little my family rented a cabin up north and I used to go out with my dad, but not so much anymore. I might go along for the boat ride, though.”
“We’ve generously added to the local economy,” Kirin announced as she pulled out her chair. She raved about the paintings and the jewelry.
“They even had some interesting pen and ink drawings . . . none as fantastic as yours,” Kirin said.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Silke whispered.
“We’d love to see your work,” Katie said. “Wouldn’t we, Bren?”
“Sure, I had no idea,” Bren said. “I thought you just taught art classes.”
“She’s actually quite talented, if I do say so. But she’s kind secretive about it,” Kirin whispered conspiratorially.
“Enough you guys, this no-longer-starving artist needs to get some sleep. Kirin, you can stay . . .”
“No, I need to get my belongings together and pack.” Kirin stood, along with Silke. “Listen, it was great to meet you guys, hope our paths cross again.”
Silke relaxed once they were on the moonlit beach with only the sounds of whooshing palm fronds and small waves breaking along the shore.
“This is perfect. I hope you enjoyed the party tonight.” Silke continued to hold Kirin’s arm.
“I did, it was a perfect final evening. I can’t believe they do that every week.”
“It’s been a tradition since they took over the place,” Silke said. “They want new and old guests to have a local communal experience. The staff always takes a little more pride in preparing these special evenings.”
Kirin grew quiet for several moments as they walked along the water’s edge. “You know, I’ve done so much traveling and stayed in dozens of
accommodations all over. The only common denominator has been be
ing alone.” She stopped walking. “It’s an entirely different experience to share it with someone and actually get to know people the way I have this time. And I have you to thank for that. I can only imagine what my week would’ve been like all alone on a private island. Jeez.”
Silke squeezed her arm. “You’re sweet, but I’m sure you do fine. After all, this is your job. And you’re good at it.”
Kirin laughed. “I guess we’ll see about that when my editor sees my review.”
“I hope you’ll remember to send it to me.” Silke reached for the hand
rail as they approached the steps to the condo.
“I will, I promise.” Kirin unlocked the door. “After you.”
“It’s good to be home.” Silke slipped off her sandals and went to the kitchen.
“Before you go to bed, I wanted to show you something.” Kirin came up behind her, put a plastic bag on the counter, and unwrapped several sheets of tissue paper. “I wanted to find a gift for Melissa—my erstwhile assistant—because I was a bit grumpy before I left. And I also found this for you.” She beamed.
Silke stared at the carved wooden seagull. It stood ten-to-twelve inches tall with the wings spread wide. It was exactly what she had imagined finding in San Pedro. “However did you know?” She held it and ran her fingers across the surface, feeling the intricate carving of the feathers, beak, and legs. “Kirin, its exquisite, exactly what I wanted.”
“I’m glad. I felt bad when we couldn’t look for it in San Pedro when the kid ran into you. I wasn’t sure you’d even want to go back to town any time soon. The artist said the wood is
Ziricote
, a type of a rare tropical hardwood.” She leaned forward with her arms on the counter.
Silke turned on the overhead lights and examined the gull more closely. “It’s just gorgeous.” She set it on the counter and slipped her arms around Kirin’s shoulders. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Words stuck in her tightening throat. “I’ve had a pretty crappy year and just sort of closed myself off from everyone.” She allowed herself to draw strength from Kirin’s embrace. “Whenever I look at this soaring bird, I will think about this week, a chance meeting, and how it’s touched both our lives.”
Her heart squeezed a little at the thought of Kirin’s imminent departure. Her presence during the week had lightened her mood and kept her from feeling sorry for herself. She hugged her a little tighter.
Chapter Fourteen
“IS THIS YOUR shampoo? It was in the shower.” Silke waved the bottle out the bathroom door.
Kirin looked up. “Yup, that’s mine, thanks.”
Silke handed it to her and walked back into the kitchen. She washed the few dishes they’d used and carefully dried each one as Kirin continued folding and packing her bag. The morning had been quiet. Each of them
tiptoed around Kirin’s departure. The mood remained light with custom
ary small talk, but Silke suspected that Kirin felt just as conflicted
as she felt. A serendipitous meeting had grown into a comfortable friend
ship that would leave a hole once Kirin left.
Kirin stopped and picked up her journal. “I don’t want to forget to send Diane and Mark a thank you note for their hospitality. Are you sure I can’t give you money for sharing this gorgeous place all week?”
“I’m sure,” Silke said. “It’s pre-paid, and I enjoyed your company. Be
sides, you paid for the elegant accommodations at the International.”
They laughed, which eased the tension.
“There, I think that’s it.” Kirin zipped the bag and wheeled it out to the porch. “You’d think this would get easier, considering how often I do it.”
“Do you know where your next assignment will be?” Silke knew she was making small talk.
“Not really. Esther’s last e-mail only provided the dates for the next two issues and suggested I let her know when I’d have the piece finished. I hope she’ll give me time to work on it. Besides I need to get the pictures to Ned in lay-out so he can work his magic.” Kirin poured a glass of water from the refrigerator and sat down.
Silke put away the last of the dishes. “I don’t envy him. I think it would be hard to select just a few. They’re all so good.”
“Thanks, we’ll see.” Kirin looked at her watch. “You know, you don’t need to walk all the way to the pier with me . . .”
“I know, but I’d like to. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone to wave goodbye or hello. Don’t you think?” Silke hoped her smile was genuine.
“Yes it is. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated.” Kirin put the glass in the sink.
“I really don’t. Sometimes I just go sit at the end of the pier and listen to the ocean.”
THEY WALKED LEISURELY along the water toward the pier. Silke didn’t reach for Kirin’s arm, she might as well get used to walking alone.
“There have only been a couple of places in my travels I’ve wanted to revisit. There was a small village outside of Zermatt, Switzerland and Istanbul, and of course, Venice. But, I’ve just added Belize to my R&R places to go.” Kirin tugged as her bag got bogged down in the sand.
They sat on a shaded bench at the end of the pier and watched as some of the young staff pushed and pulled large wagons filled with luggage to the bright red-and-white boats the resort operated to transport their guests. Each bag was strategically loaded to balance with the passengers waiting to board. Silke usually enjoyed this choreographed event as it occurred
every week. But today it was bittersweet. Her chest ached, and she swal
lowed to control her emotions.
Kirin stood as the group on the dock grew smaller. “I guess I should go . . .”
Silke stood. “I hope you have an uneventful trip home. Maybe you could shoot me an e-mail . . . if you have time.”
Kirin hugged her tightly. “I will. Promise me you’ll be careful and let Diane help you?”
Silke tried to laugh, but it caught in her throat. The warmth of Kirin’s caress would have to sustain her. “I promise. Be safe.”
One of the boys offered a hand as Kirin stepped into the full boat. She waved.
Silke watched the boat slowly curve out into the main current where it picked up speed until it skimmed across the waves like a skipping stone. As it became too small to see, she felt her chest constrict with a surprising ache. The unexpected warmth and camaraderie from a virtual stranger had surprised her. How long had it been since anyone had asked or considered her thoughts or opinions. When was the last time anyone worried about her safety and well-being?
“Miss Dyson? I have a phone message for you.”
Silke started. “Yes.”
He handed her an envelope.
You got a voicemail message from the National Endowment for the Arts. Call if you want to know what it says. Rach
Her hand trembled. It had been months since she’d sent the grant appli
cation. The grant money—if she got it—would help her set up her studio as a full time business. And . . . allow her a way out of the suffocating relationship with Rachel. She crumpled the note in her fist and stuffed it in her pocket.The decision to act felt more urgent now. She swept her hair back. The traffic on the pier gradually disappeared except for two men working on the outboard motor of a launch tied near the shore. She glanced back to where the boat had disappeared. A gull swooped by and perched on a nearby post. He shook and refolded his wings then looked right at her, as though he expected a response.
“I’ve got nothing.” She shook her head and thought about the beautiful carving Kirin had bought her. “Is there a message I’m missing?”
The gull launched suddenly and dove at a small fish near the surface.
Silke laughed. “Would that be ‘go for it’?”
She unfolded her cane and started back to the condo to distract herself by drawing.
THE LOCAL FLIGHT from San Pedro departed on time, and Kirin arrived at the main airfield in Belize ninety minutes before her connecting flight. Other small passenger planes arrived and departed, leaving small groups of tourists milling about the steamy one-story building to wait for one of the three international flights back to the states. Was it only a week ago that she had arrived at this small rustic airfield—happy to be alive?
She scrolled through the images on her camera and smiled. With each shot, a visceral reaction accompanied the memory. This trip stood apart from all her other expeditions and the unifying thread was the unique and likable Silke Dyson.
Her mind drifted back to Silke and the day in the kayak. That day had been special. As much as she tried to resist, she felt a powerful attraction to
Silke. She missed having a close relationship with shared jokes and inter
ests. Sure, she and Melissa had enjoyed an intimate relationship—of sorts.
Yeah, right
. It lingered. Part convenience, and for Melissa it was fantasy and flirting. Not productive, but a relationship of convenience.Over the years, she’d given up several pastimes, including skiing, softball, book club, and dating. Suddenly, all that paled in comparison. She couldn’t be sure but she thought Silke felt the same way. At least she wasn’t willing to let go of the possibility. Not yet.
The gate attendant called her flight.
Note to self: keep in touch with Silke Dyson!
Chapter Fifteen
“KNOCK, KNOCK.” DIANE pushed open the door. “It’s your favorite Sunday night entertainment—me with a pizza and wine.”
Silke laughed. “I thought you were kidding.” She carried the pizza to the counter. “Did you make this? It smells wonderful.”
“Just for you. Last Christmas my family sent one of those huge holi
day cheese boxes. You know the kind, with ten different cheeses and five kinds of sausage—including pepperoni. It even had maple syrup, nuts, and mustard.” Diane opened the wine bottle and poured. “Evidently, they still believe Mark and I are subsisting on raw fish, bananas, and coconuts.”
Silke laughed. “If they only knew. Don’t they follow the news? I mean, you don’t get a five star rating for scavenging food.”
“My parents came down two years after we opened, but since Daddy’s leg surgery they won’t travel. Shall I keep this warm or would you rather eat right away?”
“Let’s sit outside and talk a while. It’s cooler now, and I always like to enjoy the sunset.”
Silke held Diane’s glass while she rearranged the lounges to face the ocean. “Perfect.”
“Before she left, Kirin mentioned some sketches you were doing. She was very impressed. When did you start drawing?” Diane took back her glass. “Thanks.”
Silke tried to remember when her plan formed. “I guess it was after the holidays. I wanted some way to generate money. You know, in case, well . . . I needed it. I applied for a grant to do a series of works about Belize.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? If you need anything, please ask, honey,” Diane said.
“I would if it was a problem. It was just some idea-juggling and what-ifs.” Silke swallowed a gulp of wine.
“Has it gotten worse?” Diane’s voice was tense.
Silke didn’t want to alarm Diane unnecessarily. “No. But I believe we have irreconcilable differences, and I’m not sure I want to invest any more time in a relationship that neither of us enjoys.”
Diane sat up and faced her. “Does Rachel feel the same way?”
Dangerous territory
. “I don’t know.”
Diane put down her glass and took Silke’s hand. “Silke, it’s me. What’s going on?”
Her chest burned and a lump formed in her throat. It was impossible to calculate the enormity of her sadness and fear. For months . . . no, years, this secret had metastasized into a cold mass in her gut. One she had forced into a tight pulsing sphere of cold energy.
“I don’t know how to explain. I don’t want you to hate me.” She gasped.
“Hate you? For what? I could never do that, ever. Please tell me, be
cause now you’re scaring me. Was there more than the fight where she choked you?”
Silke shook her head then took another gulp of her wine.
Diane waited—motionless.
Purple-and-pink-tinged clouds hovered over the waves that crashed against the reef. The water spray sparkled with billions of reflections as it danced in the fading sunlight.
Silke closed her eyes and inhaled slowly to still the pounding in her chest. “Rachel left the relationship years ago. It was so insidious and I didn’t recognize the signs. I finally began to realize something was wrong
when I read vague comments she posted online and used the same flirta
tious jokes she used when she met me.” She slid to the end of the
chaise lounge and sat up straighter. “Then her
business
trips became lon
ger and more frequent. I pretended not to know.” Her throat slowly
tightened with anger and shame. “When I hinted at it–jokingly—she de
nied it. Then eight months ago, I got mad and called her on it. That was
when . . . well, she was livid. I’ve never seen her so angry. Shouting be
came pushing and she choked me.” She sat up and took a breath. “When I got home from the hospital, she moved out for two weeks.”
Diane took her hand. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
“Something must have happened while she was gone, because when she came back, she was a different person—kind, solicitous, and pleading for another chance. I eventually agreed.”
Diane stroked her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come back.”
“I felt humiliated. I was so stupid.” Silke let the tears that were a long time coming flow. Diane held her until the flow slowed to a trickle.
When they finished the wine and enough pizza, Diane started cleaning up. “Do you want another slice or should I wrap it up?” She held up the spatula.
“Thanks, I’m so full. I can’t remember the last time I ate so much.”
“Well, you earned it.” She winked at Silke. “Why don’t we take a little walk?”
They strolled north past the new condo construction and the short pier leading to the small building that would house the new massage therapist Diane had raved about. She hired a local
curandera
named Nekoomis.
Diane tugged her arm. “Come on I want to show you something.”
The small thatched building was open on two sides facing the water. Inside were two tables and some built-in bookshelves. “This is where Nekoomis will start working Monday, and I hope you get a chance to see her before you leave. Among the locals, she’s a legendary healer. They treat her as someone with almost magical abilities. She will be offering traditional massage for guests, but will offer other services if warranted.” She looked around the space, dimly lit with moonlight. “Right now, it’s waiting for one more coat of stain.”
“It’s a lovely space,” Silke said. “I love the way the moonlight reflects off the water in here and, of course, the smell of the wood mixed with the tang of the ocean.”
Diane stood with their hands on her hips. “I’m proud of how it turned out.”
“Diane . . . wanna go skinny dipping?”
“Are you joking?”
“No, come on. No one comes up here.”
“Except the security guard.”
“He just passed us on the way. He knows we’re here. And besides that means he won’t be back for a while.”
The pause was all Silke needed to pull off her tee shirt and slip out of her shorts. She sat on the pier and slipped into the water with a squeal. “Oh! This feels wonderful. It’s only about five feet deep.”
“You are still trouble, Silke Dyson. No wonder I got suspended junior year.” Diane quickly stripped off her clothes and joined Silke.
They giggled and splashed for several minutes then swam a short ways out and treaded water as they watched the distant red-and-green boat lights move through the darkness.
“You were right, this feels great, even though I feel like I’ll get in trouble,” Diane said.
“It’s moments like this when I feel free . . . unencumbered. Thanks for listening and still loving me.”
The warm salt water tenderly caressed her body with tiny tender cur
rents. Her muscles relaxed and the sensuousness of the water on her naked body awakened her senses. She floated with only the stars watching her. If only she’d thought of it earlier in the week, she and Kirin could have shared this magical moment.
Chapter Sixteen
KIRIN HEAVED A sigh of relief when she opened her door. Melissa had taken care of the broken air conditioning. Bless her heart. She dropped her bags and opened the refrigerator. Nothing.
Knew I forgot something.
She opened a beer, poured a can of soup in a bowl, and waited for the mi
crowave to warm it.
On the last leg of her trip she had formulated an outline for the resort review. If she worked it right, Esther would still have a nice timely piece on a tropical resort for the magazine. That would leave her some breathing room for the one she really wanted to write about the hurricane recovery.
Overall, it was a successful trip, especially considering the ominous begin
ning.
After dumping her clothes in the hamper, Kirin stepped into the show
er. The wide spray covered her, washing away hours of travel grime. She caught a faint whiff of coconut sunscreen, the kind she and Silke had used every day. She smiled and closed her eyes. With a little effort, she could imagine the feel of the sun on her skin and the sting of the salt water. And it felt good.
The phone rang just as she drew back the top sheet on her bed.
Sigh. “Hi Melissa, what’s up?”
“I wanted to make sure you made it home alright.”
“Yup, just got in a few hours ago and was about to crawl into bed.”
Pause. “Would you like me to come over . . . ?”
Melissa was persistent, she had to admit, and a little release might feel good . . . “No, thanks. I’m beat and really need some sleep. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?” Melissa begged.
“I’m sure.” She hung up and set the phone down but continued to stare at it. “Damn.”
The cool sheets soothed her warm skin. The internal argument started just as it always did whenever Melissa propositioned her. Her resistance was not a hundred percent and Melissa counted on that weakness. Kirin always rationalized that they were still friends with occasional benefits but no obligations. And the sex was good. But afterward she always felt sleazy.
SILKE PULLED OUT a chair as Flora arrived with the menu.
“Good morning, Miss Silke, you look so pretty today. Where’s your friend?”
“She had to go home. I’m sure she’ll come back sometime, though. Could I have the usual and coffee?”
It had been four days, and Silke still thought about Kirin a lot. They had exchanged several e-mails, and Kirin included some of the pictures she’d taken.
Diane gently pushed her to make plans to move out of the house and even offered to fly back to help her pack and move. It was a feasible plan, after all. The end of the month would bring her a bigger check from the Milwaukee gallery selling her sculptures. She’d put the last four checks in a new savings account. With this one, she would have enough for six months’ rent on the small studio.
One of her graduating students offered her his furniture since he was moving back to Eau Claire. Originally, she thought she’d just tell Rachel she was storing the stuff for the kid. But Diane convinced her that leaving piecemeal would continue to grow more difficult with time. She agreed.
Just thinking about it gave her chest pains. It was time to move on and end the charade. A part of her still wanted to wait until Rachel was out of town again and slip out. That was still a possibility.
“Thank you, this looks wonderful.” She would miss these tasty, satisfy
ing breakfasts. Three more then back to a life of cold cereal and bagels. She sprinkled a little of the local hot sauce on her fluffy scrambled eggs and savored the spicy bite of the pepper sauce. The first bite still gave her a delicious rush of pleasure.
Since Rachel spent so much time on the road, there were no longer fam
ily dinners. Silke had at one time enjoyed preparing new and exotic dishes to surprise her hard-working partner. Boy, that had been short-lived. She put down her cup as a wave of sadness swamped her. For too many years, she had methodically denied her own unhappiness.
She had managed to keep the fear bottled up until Sunday when Diane pushed open the door and made her speak the words, made her describe the details, made her own the abuse. Her throat tightened with a wave of sadness.
If she did this.
When
she did this . . . she would need to tell her family. She groaned.
Her mom and brother adored Rachel. She suddenly felt her resolve crumbling.
How can I possibly tell them why this happened?
“More coffee?”
Silke dropped her water glass, spilling it across the table. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you come up.”
Goddammit.
“I’m so sorry, Miss, I always forget,” Flora said. “Miss Diane always remind us. I fetch a towel, you don’t worry.”
“Everything okay?” Mark asked from somewhere behind her.
Her shoulders dropped. “Yes. Just working on my startle reflex.”
Mark sat opposite her in a dry chair. “Funny, I thought you had that down pat. It’s your blasé response that needs work.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Bless Mark for his timing and his wonder
ful sense of humor. “As usual, you are a life saver.”
“Sweetheart, spilled water is not generally considered a life threatening event . . . by anyone’s standards. Are you almost finished or can I sit with you awhile?”
“Please stay. Poor Flora was just bringing coffee when I decided to hurl my water glass across the room.”
“Sorry I missed it. Want to try again?”
Laughing felt good. She could always count on Mark to provide his brand of levity.
Once the table was dried and the coffee poured, Mark leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something.” He looked around. “Next month is Diane’s forty-eighth birthday and I want to get her something special. Would you see if you can remember anything she may have mentioned that would mean a lot to her?”
“Tough one,” Silke said. “You know how little she ever asks for. I’ve never had an easy time shopping for her. I’ll need to think about it.”
“Great. Let me know.” He motioned to Flora. “So how goes the art project?”
“Pretty well. I’ve drawn about fifty sketches to start with and I’ll nar
row them down to do some pen and ink drawings to see how they look. Kirin was nice enough to share some of her photos from her excursion inland. Some of them would make nice renderings. We’ll see.”
“I enjoyed talking with her. Nice gal,” Mark said. “Her idea about the
hurricane resurrection was cool. If her writing is as good as her imagina
tion, it could be sensational. Say, did you give any more thought to Diane’s idea about coming back and spending a few months here?”
“Yes and no. It’s incredibly generous of you guys. I guess it’ll just de
pend on where I am at that time—literally. If I can get moved, sell a few more pieces, win the grant I applied for and . . . if my vision holds, it would be wonderful.”
“Listen, kid, I know Diane has told you, if you need anything, please call. I mean it. Money, a place to stay, a plane ticket . . . we’re here for you.” He squeezed her hand.
“I know, Mark, and I love you guys. You’ve always been so wonderful to me.”
He kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her shoulder. “Try not to wreck my restaurant.”
She swatted him. “No promises.”
Mark walked to the office, and Flora refilled her coffee cup.
Silke pulled a small notebook and a mechanical pencil from her bag. Inside the back cover, she jotted down a few things to remember before she started back. She decided it would be fun to send Diane a Christmas package with unusual food items. And maybe something nice for Kirin—maybe that sketch she admired so much.
She started to sketch the view from the restaurant. Looking east, she saw the large deck with the pool in the center, the offices on the left, and palm trees surrounding the buildings. The steps on the far side descended to the beach and beyond that lay the blue-green ocean. It was beautiful.
Even with her peripheral vision impaired, she could remember all the de
tails from the years she had spent gazing across this view. When she finished, she gathered her things and set out for the beach. The last thing she on her checklist was individual sketches of the small thatched casitas. She had a hunch they might make nice note cards.
She walked close to the water’s edge where she spotted the new build
ing on the north pier. There were brightly colored flags flying from the roof. Then she remembered that the new
curandera
had begun work. Curiosity won out, and she walked toward the small building. Surrounded as it was by water, it looked like a very small island or oasis. As she came closer, she heard soft music playing and a woman’s voice humming. She stood outside, listening to the warm resonant voice.
“Please, come in,” a disembodied voice said.
Her first instinct was to turn and flee, but she waited then approached the door. “I don’t want to intrude. I don’t have an appointment.”
A warm belly laugh escaped the
curandera
. “No worry ’bout that. I wait for de people so you must be de one I wait for.”
The gentle voice beckoned Silke. Surprisingly, the woman was not very tall. She was soft and plump with very dark skin that showed off her bright white smile and unusual pale blue eyes. She wore a traditional-looking sari of jewel-bright colors, her feet were bare except for several ankle bracelets.
“
Bienvenidos, a Curación Casa.”
Silke stepped through the doorway and marveled at the beautiful fab
rics covering the walls and draping the table. Fragrant tropical flowers lent ambiance to the place. “It’s lovely in here. I was here a few days ago before they finished work. It looks so different now.”
“You call me Nekoomis, please.” She indicated a large cushion on the floor next to her. Her warm gentle spirit was welcoming.
Silke obediently sat and faced her. “Thank you. Maybe you could tell me a little about what you do.”
Nekoomis tipped her head to one side and narrowed her eyes, then nod
ded. “I listen. Every person has a story. And I watch. Sometime, the inside and the outside are not the same.”
The simple sounding words left Silke feeling exposed, as though Nekoomis actually saw inside her. Just like with Diane, words formed, and she swallowed to prevent their escape. “Do you think that causes illness?”
Nekoomis gave a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Oh yes. Holding in darkness is very bad. It’s always better when there is light on the outside and the same light on the inside because everything can flow. Light can flow to the dark places and make them better.”
“I think you’re right. The light is always better.”
Nekoomis extended both hands palm up. “You put your hands out?”
Silke rested her hands lightly on top of Nekoomis’ calloused palms.
Without being asked, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Within sec
onds, she became aware of the heat generated between their hands. As it grew, she wanted to pull away but didn’t.
“I can help. You are afraid, but you trust me?”
Silke nodded but found words impossible.
Nekoomis keened softly. “Vision comes to us in many ways. The eyes give us pictures but not always real. The magical rainbow never be caught. But invisible love more real than many things. Beloved, your vision is clear if you trust it.”
Nekoomis pulled Silke to her feet and pointed to her table. “Let me help you.”
