The Convent Rose (The Roses) (22 page)

He considered dressing up like an Arab sheik, but didn’t think he could pull off the disguise with his Texas accent. What if he did discover the island holding Eve, and she didn’t want him? There he’d be clothed in one of those long, white dresses with a rag on his head and sandals on his feet. She’d laugh her head off. Even a poor, bastard cowboy like himself had more pride than to do that.

Or did he? Going to the islands seemed like the only way to find and confront Eve, tell her how he truly felt. He’d need help. Only one man he could trust in any situation. He called Rusty and invited himself over with a six-pack of beer and a large, greasy bag of Mama Tyne’s pork cracklings. Unfortunately, Noreen had put the kids to bed and settled in right beside her husband. She began to laugh almost immediately as he laid out his plans.

“You, Bodey, with that Texas drawl, trying to pass as an Arab? And those blue eyes, how are you going to explain those?” She laughed so hard the beer she purloined came out her nose, and she had to stop long enough to wipe it.

“I tell you I’ve thought it all out. I can get brown contacts easy, and I’ll wear shades the whole time. I’m tan enough now, I think, but I can lay out by the pool to get darker. My hair is black. I’ll let my beard grown in and cover the cleft in my chin. We’ll just say I don’t speak much English and Rusty is my interpreter.”

“Oh no, you don’t, Bodey Landrum. You will not draw my husband into this. What if Rich Kuhl has armed guards? He seems paranoid enough for that.”

Bodey considered for a minute. “Nope, he runs a charter fishing service. He isn’t running drugs or anything. At least, I hope not for Eve’s sake. Might have his own gun, but I can carry one, too. Those robes would make concealment pretty easy.”

“You can’t take one on an airplane.”

“So I’ll get a weapon there. Look Noreen, this is between Russ and me. You got no say.”

Rusty finished crunching a crackling. He took a slow, deliberate swig of beer before he spoke. “Shows how little you know about women and marriage. Why don’t you go in the kitchen for a minute, Bodey, and let me talk to my wife.”

Bodey went, but he didn’t go far. He lingered by the door listening. He knew what hand the man held, what card Rusty would play to win against Noreen’s objections.

“Noreen, my soul mate, Bodey isn’t as lucky as us. He didn’t recognize the woman he loved right from the start like I did, and maybe I got in the way of that. You remember I told you how Eve scorned him on the bridle path the day of this eighteenth birthday? He intended to try again, but I called Renee to come to the party because I couldn’t afford a birthday gift for my best friend.”

Noreen nodded, a little misty-eyed. “Yes, if you hadn’t made that call, we might not have met at all, but I still believe we would have since we were fated to be together.”

“Right, it worked for us, but it’s like I put Renee in his path to true love like ours. I made him swerve away from Eve.”

“Don’t you take the blame for that, Rusty Niles! If Bodey had dated Eve instead, he would have taken advantage of her innocence and then left her to follow the rodeo trail. The life he’s led, the women he’s had, he doesn’t deserve Eve. She’s still very naïve, and he went and seduced her the moment he got into town.”

Rusty took a deep breath and another sip of beer. “Darling, from what Bodey tells me, Eve knew exactly what to do in bed.”

“The two of you discussed her as if she were some cheap stripper—or Renee?”

“Not in detail, only in general. He needs another chance with Eve. I owe him that. He means to marry her. I’ve seen the ring.”

“So you go off on this escapade and leave me here with two small children.” Noreen pouted and consoled herself with a crackling—like dining on bacon only better.

“I promise you I’ll save all I can and take you to the islands for a vacation one day.”

“Oh, Russ, we can’t afford that. I’m worried something bad will happen to you.”

Rusty took Noreen into his arms, held her tight. “I won’t let anything go wrong, and if it does, you know we’ll meet in another lifetime.”

“Can I come back now?” Bodey shouted from the kitchen. “We have to nail down the details of the trip.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but sauntered out and picked up his beer again.

“Looks like we’re going to the Cayman Islands with Noreen’s blessing.” Rusty clinked his bottle against Bodey’s.

“Hardly. If anything bad happens to Rusty, I will never forgive you, Bodey Landrum. I’m going to bed. Make what plans you will. And take those cracklings with you when you leave. They go straight to my hips.”

Noreen marched down the hallway. Bodey figured she would have slammed the door if the kids weren’t sleeping.

“Good. I’ll make reservations with Rich Kuhl under the name Omar Abu Something-or-other, a rich as Croesus oil well-owning Arab. I already found a place online where I can get authentic clothing. Give me a week or so to let my beard grow out and see about the contacts. We can use the time to decide what you should wear and how we’ll communicate. If this succeeds, I’ll bankroll that trip to the Caribbean for you and Noreen.”

****

Bodey had to say the cotton robes provided a certain airy comfort in the heat and humidity of the islands. His headpiece kept the sun off his neck and his feet stayed nice and cool in the heavy sandals. He’d changed into his disguise stowed in his carry-on luggage in the airport restroom after passing through security. Up till then, he’d still been blue-eyed Bodey Landrum according to his passport—with the addition of a short beard. Though he hadn’t sweated through the armpits yet, Rusty looked damned uncomfortable in the wrinkled white linen suit, pink shirt, and Panama hat he’d worn for the whole trip.

Russ ran a finger around his uncomfortable collar. He rarely wore a dress shirt except for a few hours on Sunday. “You sure Rich won’t recognize me?”

“I don’t think Rich is the kind of guy who notices underlings, especially kids who parked his car fifteen years ago. You’ve grown up, filled out, and got a nice, manly stubble now to cover some of those freckles.”

“Yeah, it’s hot and itchy and Noreen hates the beards, yours and mine both.” Rusty scrubbed his hands over the reddish bristles on his cheeks.

“Well, you only started yours last week. It feels better when it grows out.” Bodey fingered the end of his black beard, close-cut but coming to a point at the bottom of his chin. He hated poking the brown contacts into his eyes. The things you did for women or true love as Rusty might say. “Hush now, here he comes.”

The charter boat chugged to the dock. Two brawny black men threw out the lines and secured it to the pilings. Rich Kuhl, captain’s hat at a cocky angle on his white hair, jumped ashore with a mouthful of apologies. “Sorry to be late, Prince Omar. I’ll reimburse you for that cab. Usually, I meet my clients at the airport, but we had a little engine trouble. She’s working fine now.”

“Please speak more slowly. The prince has little English, but understands some. I am his translator, Aaron Marchand.” Noreen had helped him pluck the name from their mutual ancestors, but Bodey teased Rusty about it sounding kind of gay. No more so than the white suit and pink shirt Roger lent him, but he added, “I picked up Arabic when I served in Operation Desert Storm, marine corps” to make sure Rich knew he served as some kind of bodyguard, too.

“Sorry-I-am-late. We-go-now-to-eat-a-good-meal-on-my-private-island-then-fish.” Rich spoke slowly and very loud as if volume would break down the communication gap. He ended with a salaam-like flourish straight out of the
Arabian Night
s
.

Rusty whispered in Bodey’s ear. The Arab prince nodded graciously.

“The wind is picking up. Maybe you should stow the prince in the cabin, Mr. Marchand. Help yourselves to anything in cooler. I need to take the helm. The boys will get your bags.”

Getting tangled in his robes a little, Bodey descended less than gracefully into the boat followed by his minion. They made themselves comfortable in leather captain’s chairs and raided the cooler for bottles of cold water.

Left alone, Bodey ventured, “Great, we’re going straight to Eve. Now, we won’t have to mess around pretendin’ to fish. I can chuck this disguise and have my heart-to-heart with her, then the three of us will head back to the states.” If his blue eyes hadn’t been covered by muddy brown contacts and wrap-around sunglasses, they would have glittered.

“Too easy, way too easy. Something is bound to go wrong.” The sound of the boat engine covered their conversation. Rusty unbuttoned his collar and stripped off a white silk tie, also courtesy of Roger. The hell with it. What he did for Bodey Landrum!

They were on the water quite a while before a small island peeked from the sea. Entering a cove sheltered from the wind that had made the trip rough, the boat, another
Princess Eve,
docked again. Rich came to the side of his wealthy passenger and directed them up a path where tropical plants crowded the way.

“Like Eden,” Bodey murmured to Rusty. Where else would Eve live?

A feast of coconut shrimp, rice pilaf, tropical fruits, and a bowl of hummus surrounded by pita strips to make the customer feel at home awaited them. A hyacinth macaw begged for grapes from a nearby perch. Iced tea sat on the table, but Rich offered chilled champagne. When Bodey held out a hand, Rusty kicked him in the shin under the table. He slammed it on the chair arm instead.

“You have offended the prince. He adheres strictly to the laws of Islam,” Rusty explained.

“Well, it’s been my observation that some of them play hooky when on vacation and imbibe a bit. Anything else I can get for him?”

Bodey gestured Rusty to come close and whispered in his ear. “Tell him I like women, white women.” So far the only females he’d seen ran to the dusky side.

“Since we are staying the night, he wonders if you might have any white women available.”

A deep frown creased Rich’s florid face. “Only my daughter and she’s not here right now.”

More whispers. “The prince wants only the pleasure of her company. He would treat her with the greatest respect.”

“Maybe she’ll come to dinner. Maria, when you see my daughter, explain the prince wants to meet her tonight,” he said to the woman bringing a tray of light desserts. “Finish up. Looks like a storm is brewing on the horizon. We might be able to get in some fishing before it hits.”

Bodey gestured to his translator and whispered, “Doesn’t sound safe.”

Rusty answered back, “You booked a fishing service, not me.” At full voice, he said, “I’d like to change. The prince will remain dressed as he is.”

“Certainly. Your room is right over there.”

Rusty eased by the parrot with the impressive beak breaking Brazil nuts and jostled his stand. The blue wings flapped, and the bird squawked, “Pretty Eve, Pretty Eve,” for no reason at all, but it seemed to taunt Bodey with its harsh voice and beady eyes.

“Excuse, please,” Bodey managed, trying hard to sound foreign. Giving the parrot a wide berth, he followed Rusty.

In the privacy of the bathroom, he heaved up his robes and took a leak. Going commando under his costume sure came in handy in a hurry. He’d been holding it for some time. Rusty changed into khaki shorts, a polo shirt, and his own sandals. “I don’t care if translators wear suits, I’m not going fishing in one,” he complained.

Bodey ignored the complaint. “We’re close. That parrot knows her.”

“Her daddy probably trained it to peck out the eyes of any man who comes near his daughter. You see the beak on that bird?”

“Yeah, but if I can handle a two-ton bull, I can deal with a parrot. Not so sure about the fishing expedition. Almost puked just getting here.”

“Your idea,” Russ reminded him again.

They rejoined Rich and his crew, cast off, and headed out to sea searching for marlin. Instead, they caught two large yellowfin tuna after copious compliments to the sheik on his upper body strength and endurance.

“You tell the prince we’ll grill these for his dinner and get him a marlin tomorrow for sure,” Rich said to Rusty. “We need to go in now, race that storm coming at us. Tell him my beautiful daughter will be waiting. He’s looking a little green and that should encourage him to hang in there until we get back to the island.”

The ship turned and began to buck through swell after swell. They swerved again to run along the calmer water of the main island, but by that time Bodey, doubled over, hugged the railing and puked over the side. The captain turned the wheel over to one of his men and came to show his concern for his very rich passenger with several strong pats on the back. Bodey’s sunglasses fell into the sea. One contact popped out and joined them. He had enough presence of mind to shut his eye pretending he’d gotten salt water in it and gestured for Rich to go away, but another turn of the boat caused the wind to swell under his authentic Arabic throbe. It carried the cloth up and over his bare buttocks as he hunched heaving into the sea. He’d spent days by his pool tanning his feet and legs for this adventure, but sure, he’d worn trunks never thinking Rich Kuhl would get a look-see at his lily-white ass.

He knew the gig was up when Kuhl’s big hands seized his shoulders and spun him around. “You’re no Arab.” He forced Bodey’s closed eye open and stared into the shining blue iris. “You’re that no good cowboy sniffing around my daughter again. She’s not interested in lowering herself for a guy like you. Now get off my boat!”

Get off the boat! They were on the ocean. Oh sure, Bodey could see the beach from here, but he still reckoned it to be a mighty long swim. He backed toward the center of the craft where he could make a better stand as Rich summoned the spare deckhand, a big man black as sin and twice as strong. Though Rusty tried to yank the muscleman off, he ended up sitting on his own ass on the deck. With the deckhand gripping him around the torso and Rich pushing from behind, Bodey went over the side. “Swim for it, you bastard!” Kuhl shouted as Bodey, weakened by sea sickness, surfaced.

“As for you, Aaron Marchand, or whoever you are, I figure he hired you for this escapade. I’ll take you back to the dock. Get yourself on a plane and get out of here.”