Twice Cherished

by Ava Branson

  Just as quickly as we’d come across that narrow road, it curved more to the right and land spread out on either side. “Keep an eye out for a silver metal roof through the trees over there. That’s my place.” A couple of hundred feet later, I slowed and pulled off the road onto a shell-rock driveway that wound through dense trees. The house was completely obscured until the drive curved, opening to a large, circular driveway. My two-story, white clapboard Bahamian vernacular house sprawled against a backdrop of azure blue water and gently swaying palm trees. Black shutters framed the windows, and both the main floor and second story had wrap-around porches that invited outdoor living from every angle. The house was built on stilts to allow for maximum air flow and cooling, plus gave an extra layer of protection from storm surges during hurricane season. The French doors and windows were designed to open the entire house to marry the interior to the outside, as well as let the trade winds blow through. Air conditioning wasn’t necessary except for the odd day when the winds dropped or storms blew too severely.

  “Uh oh. I may be in love,” she mused. “It’s perfection. Like I pictured a quintessential Bahamian house to look like. I’m so glad you don’t have one of the ones we just passed. The kind of over-done ones that look like they belong in a gated community in Florida. Yours looks homey and warm and welcoming.”

  I couldn’t have been happier to hear her thoughts, on more than one level. Glad that she liked the house, but beyond happy to have doused the small hint of doubt as to her motives. The sun just became brighter. “Glad you came?”

  “More than I can say.” She turned, beaming like I hadn’t seen her before. Everything held possibility now. Anything could be possible.

  “Good!” I turned the car off and hopped out, grabbing her bag. “I’ll show you around. You can pick any one of the four bedrooms you’d like, but I must point out—being the good host I am, of course—you’re even welcome to choose mine. I won’t mind sharing at all.” I gave her the most innocent looks I could muster while my lips itched to smile and my hands ached to touch.

  The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she tossed me a saucy, wry grin. “How magnanimous of you.”

  With a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in my mouth look, I added, “Of course. Now, if you would come this way. Edith has been chomping at the bit to meet you.”

  “Edith’s your house manager, right?”

  “Yes, and a woman that I honestly believe could be classified as a force of nature all her own. She pretty much runs the ship and I do as I’m told.”

  “Well, then,” she laughed happily. “I’m definitely looking forward to meeting her, and I’m really looking forward to tasting her cooking. I’ve abandoned all calorie counting for this trip.” She shook her head with a stern look and wagged a finger at me. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. It’s the least I can do for the occasion.”

  My eyes skimmed over her body, which looked perfect in my mind. “You don’t look like you do a lot of fattening kinds of food.”

  “Now that’s what I call a compliment because I work on it every single day. First, the torture rack—that’s Pilates to the uninitiated—then a run, or if the weather’s bad, my trusty treadmill. Throw in some weights and yoga so I don’t get bored out of my mind, and that is how I get to eat the occasional bowl of pasta or plate of nachos, which I absolutely adore, by the way.”

  “Call me twisted, but I get turned on by a woman who works out hard like that.”

  She gave me a sardonic look. “Oh, I’ve never had any doubts about you being twisted.”

  I’d opened my mouth to tell her just how twisted up I was over her when Edith’s voice boomed from the first-floor porch.

  “Well, don’t be keepin’ her out in this hot sun. I’ve got fresh conch salad that’s not gettin’ any fresher and my Mahi is beggin’ to get into the oven.” Edith stood in the middle of the pair of open French doors, wiping her hands with a white dish cloth before crossing her arms over her ample chest.

  “We’re coming,” I called, turning to Micki. “See? Pushy old broad, just like I told you.”

  “I heard that all the way over here and that’d be Mrs. Pushy Old Broad to you, young man.” Her stern expression was completely undone by the twinkle in her eyes and the ghost of a smile that almost made her lips lift at the corners.

  I touched the small of Micki’s back. “We’d better move before she barks again.”

  Once inside, I dropped Micki’s bag in the entry and made the introductions. “Micki Dawson, I’d like you to meet Edith Thompson, the woman singlehandedly responsible for everything that goes on in this house and, in her spare time, much of whatever else goes on this island. And when she’s not doing that, she’s hunting the cure for cancer, reversing global warming and—”

  “Oh, stop with this nonsense already.” Edith lifted her hand in the air, waving me off, then reached to take Micki’s hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, lovey. Glad you’re finally here so he can stop yapping my ear off about makin’ sure everything is just perfect. You know, he acts like I don’t make sure this house—”

  “Edith?” I interrupted with a pointed look. “She’s hungry?”

  Micki stood, her hand still enveloped by Edith’s, her lips pressed tightly together to keep from smiling. Her shoulders shook as she returned Edith’s obviously approving smile. Pleased beyond words that these two were going to get along just fine. More than likely at my expense.

  And that couldn’t have made me happier.

  “It’s true, Edith. It’s lovely to meet you and I’ve heard nothing but glowing praises over your fabulous cooking.” Micki pressed her other hand to Edith’s.

  “Humph, damn nice to hear he even notices. Always workin’ like that…” She turned, still muttering something about having a seat.

  I nodded toward the dining room which faced another set of French doors that Edith had opened wide to catch the midday breeze. “The trade wind is continual almost a hundred percent of the time. The bedrooms are upstairs and, when all the doors and windows are open, it’s like a wind tunnel. I’ll tell you, nothing better than spending a day on the water and coming back for a nice, late nap with the sea air blowing over your skin.”

  “Mm,” she murmured. “Sounds like heaven to me.”

  “Speaking of which, what would you li—”

  Edith came in with two plates of conch salad before I could finish. “Excuse me, lovey. What would you like to drink?”

  “Water is fine, thank you, Edith.”

  After depositing the plates in front of us, Edith turned to walk back into the kitchen. “I’d like a—” I called out.

  “Yes, yes,” she waved a hand over her shoulder without looking back. “I know what you want.”

  Micki’s lips twitched. She leaned over the table and whispered, “She’s everything I imagined and hoped she’d be.”

  “Don’t tell her,” I whispered back. “It’ll only go to her head.”

  “I heard that, too, young man.”

  Micki’s shoulders shook. “What’s your usual, then?”

  “Kalik Gold. It’s a beer that’s brewed in the islands and while I’m not normally a beer person, I’ve come to enjoy it here. Want one?”

  “Maybe later, but alcohol would just slow me down. Not when I just got here.” She took a bite out of the conch salad and groaned. “Oh, my God, oh…this,” she indicated the salad with one hand as she stabbed another forkful. “This alone could keep me here.”

  “Christ, if that’s all it takes—”

  “Uh-uh, not so easy there, sir.” She pointed her now empty fork in the direction of the open doors. “I can see that glorious water out there. It’s calling my name and I must answer.” She munched on another bite. “That water…” She shook her head. “Indescribable. A serious reason to stay.”

  I sat back and ran my fingers over my jaw thoughtfully. “Glad to hear that. So, if you’d like to stay a little longer…?” I trailed off suggestively.

  She m
ade a sad face. “What I’d like and what I can do are, sadly, two different things. No, work still calls, but I won’t lie. A few days down here and it’s going to be hard to shift gears and get back in the saddle.”

  “Good,” I replied, satisfied with that as a start.

  Edith appeared with our drinks. “Let this young woman eat now, or my Mahi’s gonna come out and sit ‘til it’s cold. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

  I looked up with mock horror. “My God, that would be a disaster, Edith. I’d never forgive myself. Nope, never.” Chortling to myself, I shoveled a serving of food into my mouth. I didn’t see the dish towel until it snapped on my upper arm. “Ow!” I yelped, rubbing the spot. “That hurt!”

  Micki hooted in delight. “Oh, this could be way too much fun around here! You have a one in a million, Devin.”

  “Oh, she’s one in something, and yesss, I know you heard that, too,” I called out as Edith disappeared around the corner of the kitchen, singing to herself. I took another bite of salad. “Let me change the subject before she beats me again. Tell me how you got your studio going.”

  “Mm,” she swallowed. “I’d love to say it had been a lifelong burning passion of mine, but it really wasn’t. I’d always loved photography…you remember, don’t you? You used to tease me about putting the camera on the seat between us in your car.”

  I did remember. All of it. “It was rarely out of your hand. You were, like…the entire yearbook committee, weren’t you?”

  “Hardly, but thanks. Anyway, people seemed to enjoy the photos I took so after I divorced, and not really knowing what else I wanted to do with my life, I started working for a small studio on Sanibel Island doing landscape and seascape shots. Commercial stuff. Then I realized I could produce things people bought, but I was getting a little bored shooting sunsets and waves. A friend of a friend was getting married on a shoestring budget and couldn’t afford a big photographer so I offered to do the wedding for next to nothing, just to start a portfolio. Then, one thing led to another and more eyes were seeing my work, and well—there you go.”

  “You only do weddings now?”

  She nodded, munching on another bite of salad before Edith returned with our plates of Mahi. “Mm hmm. Weddings and families. I do love my people.”

  Edith glared at me. “You let this girl eat now and stop your talkin’. This fish just came up this morning.”

  I saluted Edith with two fingers as she walked past me, and the older woman couldn’t keep her lips from curving up this time.

  “I’ll look forward to seeing Jason and Chloe’s shots. I’ll bet they’re going to be amazing.”

  Her face lit up. “You’ll love them, I think. They’re stunning and I can’t wait to put all the finishing touches on them. There was so much love that day and I tell you, it just flows from each shot.”

  I could only imagine. I’d walked into that wedding one man and walked out another. “I don’t suppose you have any I could see?”

  “Oh, no!” she shook her head, a look of alarm on her face. “Show wedding pictures before the bride and groom see them? Cardinal no-no rule. That’s professional suicide. I’d be drawn and quartered by any bride.”

  “Okay, okay,” I chuckled, lifting my hands in surrender. “I’ll wait, right along with the rest of the family.” I frowned. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen your camera out yet. Isn’t it always attached to you somehow?”

  “Oh, it’s here. Never you worry. In fact, I brought two for good measure.” She winked. “A really cool underwater camera I got last summer.”

  “Well then, sweetheart. Let’s get this trip under way.” I wiped my mouth with the napkin. “Let me whisk you upstairs to the bedroom,” I suggested, with a choirboy’s innocence. When her eyes rounded, I clarified. “To choose your bedroom, of course. What? You thought I was just waiting to get you upstairs to have my way with you? Tsk, tsk. I’ve not a lurid bone in my body nor a lascivious thought where you’re concerned, Ms. Dawson. Shame on you.”

  She was in the middle of taking a drink of water. I could be wrong, but I think she snorted out some water. When she recovered, she gave me a stink-eye look. “I’m keeping track of this, Stockton. I will get even.”

  “Promise?”

  Chapter Nine

  Micki

  After a mouthwatering, delicious lunch, Devin took me upstairs to check out the bedrooms and choose which one I wanted. Secretly I hoped I wouldn’t be needing it, but nothing had been carved in stone…yet.

  “I’ll take this one,” I announced, after he’d shown me the two other bedrooms on the opposite side from the ocean—and his. That the one I chose just so happened to be right next to his and shared the same balcony, well…happy accident.

  Salacious thoughts aside, the entire decor of the room brought a smile to my face. White shiplap walls, dark wood floors, and a travel-magazine view of aquamarine waters that went on as far as the eye could see. A four-poster canopy bed decked out with crisp white bed linens anchored the room. If I were to design an island bedroom, it would look exactly like this. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled with books of myriad subjects and antique navigation tools, took up one entire wall. “It’s just what I’d have designed myself. You may never get me out of here.”

  He had a pained expression on his face. “Never? Oh, that hurts. But aside from that disappointing start, I’m glad you like it. I, on the other hand, prefer my bedroom…which just happens to be next to yours, in case you missed that.”

  A little gurgle of laughter bubbled out of me. “It is? Why I’d barely noticed. Until you pointed it out. Three times.”

  With a rogue’s smile, he folded his arms across his chest. “Did I ever mention that I sometimes walk in my sleep?”

  “Oh dear, dear. That’s not good. Not good at all. I mean with you sleeping on the second floor and all. That could be dangerous, don’t you think?”

  He wasn’t even a little abashed. “I’m all about taking risks, sweetheart.” His smile dimmed just a bit as his eyes dropped to my mouth. “No risk, no reward, as they say.”

  An almost palpable energy filled the room, and I wondered if there’d ever come a time when my pulse didn’t speed up when I looked at him.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t. Turning, he walked toward the door. “I’ll let you change. Bathing suits are optional, of course,” he added, with a wink, before pulling the door shut behind him.

  I stared at the polished wood panel for a full minute before shaking myself from the trance-like state I’d slipped into. The man had me off balance since the day of the wedding and I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to change any time soon.

  Diving into my bag that he’d placed on the bed, my hands flew through the contents to find my bikini, shorts and a tank top. A few minutes later, I resisted the urge to skip down the stairs like a kid and instead took them like a grown woman, pretending there wasn’t a gorgeous man waiting for me somewhere near the bottom. Stumbling to a halt on the last riser, I found him leaning against the wooden railing of the porch outside, his gaze focused somewhere off in the distance. I paused and memorized every detail. His arms wide, bracing his six foot three frame. The wind lifting random locks of his hair. He seemed lost in thought.

  Hesitant to interrupt him, I took a step back, but he must have sensed the movement.

  Turning, his expression serious until his eyes found mine. A slow, sensuous smile lifted his lips. So slow and so deliberate, my whole body flushed with awareness. It was all I could do not to leap on him and wrap my body around his.

  His eyes swept me up and down, twisting to look behind my neck. “I see a tie, so that means a bathing suit?”

  “Check.”

  “Disappointing, but I’ll have to be satisfied with ogling your body with it on. Sunscreen?”

  “All set.”

  He eyed me with speculation as he rubbed his chin. “Something’s missing, but I’m not sure what it is.”

  Automati
cally, I looked down to my hands. “Oh,” I laughed. “Believe it or not I don’t have my camera with me.”

  “It makes you look a little underdressed, except…oh, now that’s an interesting thought. Underdressed…hmm. What an intriguing thought.”

  “Mind in the gutter, Mr. Stockton?”

  He pretended to be offended. “Me? Never. Purest of thoughts run through this mind, I can tell you. Like a priest. Well, except for where you’re concerned, but…”

  I laughed. “The inner lecher slips out now and again.” I sighed theatrically. “Believe it or not, I think I’d like to see the island without wondering what it looks like from my viewfinder. Crazy, I know, but it must be the food and the air and—”

  “Me?” he provided, hopefully.

  My heart did a funny little triple beat at his look of boyish optimism. “And you,” I added with a smile.

  Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before I could put a finger on it. “Then, let’s get going.” With a wide sweep of his hand toward the steps leading down to the white sand, he said, “Fisher Island awaits you.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Devin reached for my hand and I let him take it as we set off. My hand tingled at his touch, enveloped in his large, warm hand. We walked on in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I was captivated by the pristine, empty beach and the glorious blues and greens of the water. In the shallows, the gin-clear water allowed a glimpse of the white, sandy bottom. I couldn’t wait to dive into the surf.

  The further west we walked I could see how the beach curved into a cove that I hadn’t seen from the house. “Oh, what a gorgeous picture this would make. Look at that house, almost hidden in the palm trees.” I pointed at the lone house peeking through the lush greenery.”

  “Turn around,” he said.

  I did and realized that half of his house was hidden as well. It sat out on a spit of land that I hadn’t seen earlier.