Island Promises (21 page)

“I want my passport,” she repeated through clenched teeth and hoped to the rest of the guests it looked like a smile.

“Joe here will give it to you. Won’t you, Joey?” Mitchell was sounding like a peace negotiator for the Middle East.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, soothing breath. Millie deserved better. “When?”

“As soon as the wedding is over.” Mitchell raised an eyebrow at Joe, who nodded but said nothing. He, too, was clenching his teeth but there was no smile to cover it. “Now I’m going to let go and you’re both going to behave as though you’re in church and your mother is sitting at the end of the pew.” He pushed Riley away. “Go and talk to the bride. Do some wedding party stuff. Oh, and don’t spill anything on that dress. I had an idea to cut it down and make it more of a cocktail piece so it can be worn again.”

As soon as she left, with a push from Mitchell, Anthony joined them and the three of them went off in the other direction.

“I’ve ruined your wedding.” Riley was crying and hugging Millie, who had finally let go of Henri long enough to say goodbye to her guests. The reception was winding down and many of the guests were heading for the door. The steel drum band had switched gears from the driving, upbeat music that had just about everyone on the dance floor, to a mellow, almost melancholy, set of songs.

“You did not.” Millie wore minimal makeup, even on her wedding day. A few straggles of hair had escaped from the sculpted hairdo but they framed her face in a pretty way. She had never looked more beautiful, more alive.

That’s what love does for you
, Riley thought,
true love, I’ll-never-leave-you kind of love
. The kind she’d seen in Gracie and Johnny. The kind she thought she might have had with Joe. “You were being you. Feisty, in the center of things. Stirring it up and then reacting to what happens. Besides, nothing could ruin this day.” Millie turned to kiss a departing guest on the cheek. When she turned back, she took Riley’s hand. They had hugged more, touched more, shared more in a few weeks than they had in all the years in Chicago. “Will you be here when I get back?”

As if this island weren’t paradise enough, Henri was taking Millie away for a week to what the locals nicknamed ‘Honeymoon Island,’ a place with individual open-air cottages right on the beach, secluded coves for swimming, snorkeling, or anything else honeymooners had in mind, and a discreet staff that met just about every request.

“I can’t stay, Millie.” Riley reached out and tucked one of the stray hairs back behind her friend’s ear.

“It’s only a week.”

“You know what a week is like in our business. A lifetime. Or at least a career. The offer is now. I go back to Chicago for a few weeks, pack up, and move to New York.” Despite herself, tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she struggled not to let her voice break. “I can always use a good producer. The network would be lucky to get you.”

“Oh.” Millie hugged her hard. Riley hugged back for all she was worth.

“The only thing I want to produce now is my own life. And Henri’s. Who knows, maybe we’ll even collaborate enough to produce a couple kids. But that’s down the line.”

A few months ago, Riley could never have imagined standing under the stars in the tropics, talking to her producer and best friend about being a wife and mother.

“What about RK?” Millie asked.

“That’s ancient history. Funny, those last few weeks in Chicago, I thought my heart would break if he dumped me. Now it’s been way too easy to get over him.”

“You write to me,” Millie said. Henri was coming toward them. “E-mail me, call me. Let me know what’s going on. Tell me a story. Show me what you’re made of.”

“I will.” They hugged each other once more, even harder. Henri stepped up put his arm around Millie as though it naturally belonged there and she settled into him as though that’s where she was meant to be.

“Be happy.” That’s all Riley could manage before she turned and ran into the night. The band was tuning up and the remaining guests were getting ready to sing the bride and groom a lullaby, an island tradition. But she needed to be away from the party. She had kept her own pain in all day and now it threatened to overwhelm her. Once upon a time in Chicago, she had never considered there was a place in her life for a conventional marriage and kids. A long-term, committed relationship with RK having a few side flings was what she had imagined for herself. Now she knew she could never settle for that. It had to be all or nothing. The type of deep, vulnerable love she had discovered on this island, the type that had been demonstrated by Millie and Henri, Grace and Johnny, Mitchell and Anthony. She could have gone on very well before—before she had discovered what she was missing. But not now.

The darkness in this part of the world was like nowhere else. It was deep and thick and complete. There were no streetlights here, only the lights that came from the houses and businesses such as Rosalee’s. Walk a few hundred yards away, into the jungle or onto the beach and the primitive, encompassing darkness kept civilization far away. It was a reminder of how the natural world hadn’t changed in thousands of years. This was the same night that had enveloped the dinosaurs or the first Europeans to set foot on these islands. It was humbling and inspiring.

Riley didn’t walk very far. The encounter with the pirates had been more than enough for one night. There was no telling what could lurk in the shadows. It could be a wild dog or a wild man. She’d drunk way too much rum punch and felt dizzy. The emotions dredged up by watching her best friend marry and knowing the man she’d banked on to be there for her were leaving, had left her drained. She felt lifeless. Everything and everyone was changing. She didn’t like it one bit. Whether she wanted to or not, she was being forced to change. New York might be a good thing, might be the best thing that ever happened to her. Tomorrow she would convince herself of that. Tonight she would feel sorry for herself and mourn her losses.

Mitchell and Anthony would be worlds away; Millie wouldn’t be around to browbeat her into being a great reporter; Joe wouldn’t be there to hold her at night and make her feel safe. The list went on and on. Even the people who gave her a sense of security in Chicago, though now she recognized it was a false sense of security, would be a distant memory once she was in New York. She knew how it would go. They would hug and kiss and promise to stay in touch. There might be a few phone calls, a couple of e-mails. But it would prove tough and they would be struggling for common ground. Gradually they would taper off.

She was leaning against one of the columns of the patio, her shoes in her hand, looking out toward the sea, her back to the lights of Rosalee’s. The wedding was over, the staff had cleaned up, and the torches were put out. If she turned, she would see Rosa and Stanley still sitting in the bar, his jacket gone and his shirt untucked, her long hair unwound and flowing down her back, her shoes beside her under the table. They were sharing a nightcap, recounting the success that was their son’s wedding and pondering the future with a new daughter-in-law. But Riley didn’t turn. Gazing into the heavy darkness matched the feeling in her soul better.

She wasn’t even surprised when Joe walked out of the night and came to stand beside her. On some level, as primitive and old as the night, she had known he would come. Without a word, he slipped his arm behind her and pulled her to his side, so that her head rested on his shoulder and they both stared out into the night toward the sound of the sea somewhere below them. For a few moments they watched in silence, listening only to the sounds of the ocean, the low murmur of voices and clink of dishware from inside as the staff cleaned up and dissected the wedding with Rosa and Stanley, and their own breathing, which was quick and expectant.

Joe used pressure against the small of her back to turn her into him. He kissed her long and hard, exploring every inch of her mouth. He tasted of rum and spices and salt, as though he had been swimming in the ocean. His kiss had the power to transform her, to pull her out of the depression that had cloaked her and into the world of light and promise and joy. She felt a desperate, animalistic need for him. A need to bond and be close to another human being, to not be alone on this night of so much change and turmoil. He started to back away but Riley wouldn’t let him. She grabbed the back of his neck and forced him toward her, kissing him with a fury that bordered on violence.

Roughly, he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her back. They were both panting and his words came between breaths. “Are you sure?”

Was she? That was a question worthy of a good reporter. So much had passed between them. It was a world away but the pull of the New York offer was as strong as ever. Here, in this fantasy world, where everything bloomed all the time, the sun shone almost every day, and a simpler life was prized, it was easy to lose herself and shut out reality. But how long could she keep doing that?

Then there was the issue of trust. Instinctively she trusted him. With her life at sea and with her body and her spirit everywhere else. Yet he had lied to her about the passport. With good intentions, but still he’d lied. The bigger lie was Greenland. He had never told her he was leaving.

But with Joe so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the wood oil and sea brine that represented
Reprieve
, crave the touch of his hands on her, she decided the best course was not to decide now. She would take the physical pleasure from one more night with him. Knowing full well that this would be the last night.

She didn’t waste the time or the breath to answer him. Instead, she entwined her fingers through his hair, stroking where it was still matted with sweat and dirt from the fight. She nibbled at his lip and, wrapping one leg around him, she ground herself into him until she felt him respond.

She laughed lightly, at him, at herself, at the situation. Riley, always the planner, always the person who wanted to be in charge, whether it was a grocery list or a major news story, was letting go, making love to a man she had physically fought with a few hours ago. For this moment, in this time, it felt just right. Joe was strong and vital and very much aroused. For once in her life, she would go with that and damn the consequences.

There was only one moment in the ride down to
Reprieve
when Riley had second thoughts. But it came and went quickly on the soft night wind. To reassure herself she was maybe not doing the right thing but the thing that life demanded, she leaned over, the gearshift digging into her side, and nibbled at Joe’s ear. The Jeep swerved wildly and Riley laughed.

“Save it,” he said huskily. “We’re almost there.”

“Mitchell, Anthony?”

“At Rosalee’s. They reserved a room for the night.”

“That’s nice.” She stretched, felt the air on every inch of her skin as they headed over the rutted road in the darkness. It was still and so quiet but the moving Jeep created a nice breeze. Good thing because she felt so hot.
Trite
, she told herself,
half drunk, in a tropical night,
anticipating making love to a gorgeous man and I’m hot
.

She started to get out of the vehicle but Joe was there. She leaned against him and he hoisted her up. Her head fell against his chest and she buried herself in the rich masculine smells mixed with the exotic sea. She could feel his muscles moving as he carried her across the dock. Bracing himself, he stepped over the lifelines still carrying her. Most people had trouble getting themselves onto the boat, let alone carrying another person.

“Show off,” she teased.

“I’ve got a lot more than that to show off.”

The next morning, as she stepped off
Reprieve
, Riley didn’t look back. She forced herself to look ahead, to put one foot in front of the other as she climbed the road to Rosalee’s. Her thoughts and her emotions were a jumble. Last night had been a night of abandon, of release. She was no longer star reporter Riley Santey or even boat-hand Riley. She was a woman who reveled in the physical sensations a skilled man and a tropical night could bring. About halfway up the hill, she met Emil and his rickety taxi.

“I’m not late,” he said defensively.

“No, I’m early. Anxious to go.” Riley got into the back seat. So different than when she had come here. As Emil chatted about his beautiful daughter and his no-good son-in-law who needed to give up the idea he could start a dive business and take up some real work, Riley kept her attention on the road ahead. It was very early in the morning when the leaves of the jungle glistened in the first rays of the light. Everything was still, except the constant of the ocean and a few birds that were caught between night and day.

As they came up the rise to the resort, there was no movement, no sound. Asking Emil to wait, Riley took the envelopes from her bag and slipped into the reception area. Sahara, the clerk behind the
desk, stifled a yawn and smiled as Riley approached the desk.

“Nice wedding,” the clerk said.

Riley tried to judge whether Sahara was being sarcastic about the ruckus at the wedding the night before. But the young woman with her thick hair and her flawless skin seemed genuine.

“I need to leave these envelopes for Rosa and Stanley and Millie and Henri,” Riley said. “Can you see that they get them?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, and I might as well leave this, too.” Riley fished in her bag, an oversized tote made of palm leaves, and removed a third envelope. “I understand Mitchell and Anthony are staying here.” She saw the frown on the girl’s face. “Never mind. I know you can’t say if guests are here. Just give them this when they come down.”

Riley took her time leaving the lobby. She let her hand trail along the polished wood and inhaled deeply the fragrance of exotic flowers. A mixture of regret and happiness took hold of her. This had been a place where she had felt safe and relaxed. It had given her a new perspective when she was in desperate need of shoring up. She would like to come back here someday but she was doubtful it would happen. Once she was in New York, things would move quickly. The life of a reporter on the road was a blur of stories, interviews, generic hotel rooms, and hit-and-miss relationships.

When she went outside, there was no more avoiding the last sights. The ocean lay before her, highlighted by the trees and the cliffs in a bright green frame. It was heartbreakingly beautiful this morning, calm and a light blue. Even from this distance she could watch fish swimming just below the surface. Standing at the dock, still and proud, was
Reprieve
. She had come here to claim that boat. And she had. But what she’d learned in the process was that
Reprieve
belonged to this place and this time. When she got back, she would urge RK to sell it. Riley would personally approve the sale.
Reprieve
belonged to a sailor or a family or a couple, someone who would cherish her and respect her. She was too good a ship to be used as a cold-hearted investment the way she and RK had done.