Paradise for a Sinner (8 page)

“I’ve heard that remark before.” From Doug, but she accepted a few of the fries and fell silent.

“I think you are as lovely as a petal on a pale yellow plumeria blossom. Just saying what
tin’a
would think.”

“Thank you,” she said, flustered by the lavish compliment, and hastened to change to subject. “Teena, is that your mother’s name?”

“No, it is the word for mother or any older woman deserving of respect.”

“Interesting,” but she’d lost some of her joy in their outing.

Winnie looked down at her white slacks now soiled with dark marks from selecting lava stones. Not that her attire mattered here. An obese man downing a fried pie and a large orange drink in a corner booth wore a T-shirt that exposed an inch of flab between its hem and his belt buckle. A woman with a small child on her hip stood in line clad in a tank top, pajama bottoms, and slippers. Maybe the fat man and the slovenly mother wondered how a scrawny woman like her held the attention of a handsome hunk like Adam Malala.

“Nearly done?” Adam asked as she picked a cherry tomato from her salad with her fingers and bit into it. “We have an
umu
to build.”

A few pulpy seeds from the tomato squirted out and landed on her emerald top. Great, try to be ladylike and a little sexy and a girl ended up with stains on her chest that drew the eye to her small breasts. But not Adam’s eyes. Strange, he’d seemed interested in her only yesterday. He polished off the fries, and she pushed the rest of her salad aside. “I’m ready to make an oven.”

With Adam behind the wheel, they returned to Lorena Ranch in record time terrorizing only a few moms in minivans along the way. He drove the truck across the sparse grass under the oaks straight to the side of Joe’s barbecue pavilion. A quick trip to the barn and back yielded a shovel. Winnie sat on the open tailgate of the truck and dangled her long legs as Adam attacked the dirt packed down by lots of traffic for crawfish boils and weenie roasts in the screened building. She felt very much like a teenager watching her boyfriend show off in a feat of strength as the big Samoan cut through the hard earth and a tangled net of roots to carve out a shallow pit. His arm muscles bunched beneath bronze skin as he strained in the effort.

She liked the feeling. Her parents had frowned on high school dating except for one awkward night at the prom. Study hard. Be a credit to your race. Don’t even think about getting pregnant before you turn eighteen. No wonder she fell prey to a user like Doug Hopper when she had no experience at all to sift the phonies from the genuine men.

Whether genuine or not, Adam Malala was all man. The first week in February, albeit in Louisiana, and he’d worked up a sweat. He stripped off the knit shirt clinging to his pecs and tossed it into the truck bed. Winnie restrained herself from picking up the shirt and burying her face to inhale the pheromones.

“I thought a South Sea Islander would have tattoos,” she said almost to herself as she eyed his smooth, hairless chest.

Adam glanced up as he leveled the pit. “I have tattoos. If I wore my lava-lava, you would notice, but I think Mrs. Joe might not like it if I took off my jeans. Someday I will show you. Someday soon.” The broad smile, the twinkle in the depths of his dark brown eyes returned.

He had to be interested in her. He just had to be. Her eyes strayed to a dark band inked into his brown skin just above his belt buckle. “I’d like that.” Saliva gathered in her mouth, and she swallowed hard.

“We both would. Hand me the stones.”

Winnie got into the truck bed and tossed the lava rocks to him one by one. He placed each carefully until satisfied with the results. Dusting off his hands, Adam said, “All we need now is a bunch of firewood, a couple of pigs, and lots of banana leaves.”

“Good thing we had a mild winter, and the banana plants didn’t die back.” Winnie took his hand and hopped down from the back of the truck.

“There are many good things about this winter, especially meeting a beautiful woman. I could use a second lunch. You?”

Adam held her hand longer than necessary and seemed reluctant to let it go. She wouldn’t have minded if they’d remained united all the way back to the house, but with a final squeeze, he released her fingers. “Corazon probably has something for us.”

That assumption proved wrong. They entered into kitchen chaos. Nothing simmered except Corazon’s temper as she berated her employers. Not saying a word, Brinsley stood at martial attention near the hallway door.

“What, you no like my cooking anymore? My cousins don’t clean good enough? You go out and get a butler to watch me. Do I steal the silver?” Corazon’s plump arms wobbled in the air.

“Now, Corazon, after all we have been through together, you know you are like family,” Nell soothed.

“He opened the gate and let the delivery man in.” The housekeeper’s chubby finger wagged at Brinsley. “He answered the phone! This is what I do.”

“You do much more than that. You cook and care for a family of ten and all the extra guests we have in the house. You are a marvel!” Joe leaned toward her from his seat at the table, but stayed out of the way of flailing arms and pointing fingers. He tried one of his most appealing smiles to no great effect.

Brinsley took a cautious step forward. “Mrs. Polk, my intention was not to supersede you, but to relieve your day of petty interruptions while you are making meals and overseeing the staff. My stay here will be brief, only until Anastasia is settled. I merely sought to help.”

Corazon snorted through her nose so forcefully, she might have been shooting flames in the butler’s direction.

Adam spoke up. “What we need is a beach.”

All eyes and the perplexed expressions that went with them turned toward the big cornerback. “A beach, that’s your solution,” Joe said as if he questioned a play at a team meeting.

“Sure. Corazon must feel the stress of caring for so many and her own family, too. If Brinsley would take the calls and such, she might be able to leave the house for a while and stroll beneath the palm trees, feel the sand beneath her feet, listen to the wind sing through the fronds.”

Corazon’s round, brown face turned dreamy. “My village in Mexico had a beach. The children played there all day long.” She began filling mugs from the perpetually ready coffeepot on the counter. “Everyone sit. We talk about this beach. You, too, big-time butler. You not too good to drink coffee with us like you acted this morning.”

“Generally, I do not sit in the presence of my employers.”

“They are not your employers. They are mine. Sit!”

Brinsley folded into a chair like a piece of stiff cardboard. Corazon plunked down creamer, a bowl of sugar, and a caddy of artificial sweetener. She urged the others to join Joe and Nell at the table. Adam and Winnie took their seats. The only one who didn’t was Corazon who moved to the industrial-sized refrigerator and began filling a platter with various cold cuts, three types of cheese, and bowls of sweet and dill pickles. She opened a bread drawer, took out a long French loaf, severed it into pieces along its length, and placed it into a basket. A heap of pumpernickel rolls topped the French bread, and a variety of condiments made their way to the table. Corazon passed out plates and cutlery, finally settled, and said, “The beach, tell me.”

Adam smiled broadly at her. The housekeeper beamed back as if only the two of them knew the true value of a beach.

“Today, when I went to get my lava rocks with the very lovely Winnie, I noticed some palm trees for sale. Lorena Ranch has no palm trees, which is a great pity. I bought all the trees, but now we need a beach to place them. Joe, you have an area full of scrub trees near the swimming pool.”

Joe nodded. “An old pasture leftover from the ranch’s dairy farm days.”

“We clear it and cover the dirt with sand. We put in the palm trees and maybe some other pretty plants.”

“Who is we?” Joe asked.

“Me and the landscaper I spoke to this morning. The beach will be my gift to Camp Love Letter, no cost to you. All children should be able to play in the sand.”

Always practical, Nell said, “Won’t the kids bring sand into the pool and clog the filters?”

Getting with the program, Joe answered. “We could put in sprinklers to wash their feet. The children would love to run through them anyhow. I can see it. Yes, I can, me.”

“Major plumbing installation,” Nell mentioned.

“We could have it done before the camp opens.”

“The path through the grove should be cement so the children in wheelchairs can enjoy it, too,” Winnie added, mindful of her patient.

“Sure, all that can be done in time, but for now we put in the sand and trees,” Adam urged.

Corazon, her face planted between her two hands over a steaming mug of coffee, had a faraway look in her round, brown eyes. “I would like a beach where I could sit in my spare time—if I had spare time.”

“While I am here, I can give you that, Mrs. Polk.” Brinsley took a small sip of coffee as if he committed some dire breach of etiquette. The others built sandwiches, but his plate remained empty.

Corazon snapped back to reality. “Your offer is good. I get a beach. You can be butler while you are here. Eat! You are too skinny like Miss Winnie,” Corazon rolled on, not noticing the other woman’s small wince. “Call me Corazon and I call you?”

“I am called Brinsley.”

“You got no first name. You born being Brinsley?”

The butler capitulated. “Clive, Clive Leopold Brinsley.”

“Ha! No wonder you no say. Clive is okay with me.” The phone rang. “Clive, you get that while I eat, no?” Corazon raised a multilayered ham, roast beef, three cheese, and smoked turkey sandwich to her mouth.

Clive, his plate still empty, went to the cordless phone in the kitchen. “Billodeaux residence. This is Brinsley. To whom am I speaking? Yes, certainly. Thank you.” He disconnected. “Miss Anastasia is finished with her testing and is in need of a ride home. I would be delighted to retrieve her if you will entrust me with a vehicle and directions.”

Nell, in the midst of eating a sandwich much more modest in size than Corazon’s masterpiece, forked over her keys and paused in her lunch to write directions to the Episcopal day school. Brinsley, seeming very relieved, left to run the errand.

Winnie’s hand hovered over the dill pickles. She made a snap decision and scooped up two sweet gherkins instead. Adam eyed her empty plate, then considered his own holding a half-eaten slab of French bread brimming over with fillings and a twin sandwich beside it. He considered the nearly empty platter. “Here take one of mine, Winnie.”

“Oh, I had that salad and some fries earlier.”

“You’ve been lugging rocks.”

“Well, you dug a pit.”

Nell and Joe exchanged glances. Corazon snatched the extra sandwich. “If you not gonna eat that, I take it to my husband.” She stood and patted Adam on the back. “This man knows how to eat, not like Clive Brinsley.” She found Knox Polk’s favorite beverage in the fridge and made up a plate to deliver. No sooner had her broad behind passed out the door than Adam leaned close to Winnie.

“See, all she needed to be happy was a beach. And so do you.”

Chapter Eleven

Winnie waited for the arrival of the special school bus hauling the handicapped students as she had all week long. She carried Teddy’s armband crutches. He hated them, but needed to exert himself to learn walking. The minibus with the wheelchair lift swung to a stop as she opened the gate. A round-faced, short-chinned Down’s Syndrome girl waved happily from one of its windows. The head of a boy with severe muscular dystrophy lolled against a headrest, but could not turn her way. Most likely, Teddy did not feel lucky about his condition, but thanks to early intervention, he had a good mind that could take him all the way through college. An aide helped Teddy from the bus and left him in her care.

Winnie held out the crutches. “Up we go, half way down the drive before you get to ride.”

“Do I have to?”

“Absolutely. Someday you’ll want to walk across a stage at graduation, so let’s practice now.”

“Maybe I won’t finish high school like my mom.”

“Nell and Joe will make certain you do.”

“Only if I’m Daddy Joe’s real son.”

“Up. You’re stalling.”

Winnie made sure he had a good grip on the stick crutches before they started along the paved drive. The boy complained about so very little, almost as if he feared making any sort of trouble would get him thrown out of Lorena Ranch. He only griped about the crutches to her. As Teddy toiled slowly along, her mind wandered to yesterday’s physical therapy session and to Adam Malala.

Joe had done her a big favor by visiting the home gym when she guided the child through his upper body strengthening exercises after Teddy completed his homework. He squeezed the boy’s biceps and assured him he noticed an increase in size. Teddy’s face lit with the praise. Of course, the triplets, who had little homework, tagged along and somewhat ruined the moment by showing their daddy what they could do. Even Lorena wanted her arm muscles approved, and Mack made everyone count his pushups. Still, Teddy’s glow over his purported father’s compliment did not fade. Just those few words made her job easier.

Adam Malala did not, though the fault didn’t rest with him. He helped her get Teddy ready for bed every night. Usually they stood by the elevator talking softly while Nell visited briefly with the children at the end of the hall. He stood so close his body heat made sweat trickle between her shoulder blades, but never came as close to kissing her as he had that single time on the first night she arrived.

Instead, he lavished her with flowery compliments. Her eyes were like the green of sea waves sparkling in the sunlight. Her hair, and he twined a curl around his index finger, as soft as the down on an ocean bird’s breast. She would have liked to sink her hands into his curly mane and initiate a kiss, but somehow she never had the nerve. Why did he move so slowly, so cautiously with her, a divorced woman who needed and wanted a demonstration of her attractiveness?

Adam always came to the gym while she worked with Teddy. He wore long sweatpants and a hoodie as he ran on the treadmill. Sometimes, he stripped off his top when Joe spotted him in weightlifting. As the perspiration beaded on his chest, she felt the desire to lick it off, laving the valley between his pecs and rounding his dark nipples with her tongue. Joe flashed a wicked smile her way as if he could read every decadent word of the novel in her mind. Teddy, noticing her distraction, began to fudge on his reps. “Ten, twelve, fifteen.” She’d gotten her attention back where it should be and made him start over with his count.