The Wicked Prince

by Nicole Burnham

  Alessandro blew dust off his piece. At the same time, a series of whoops and cheers followed by, “me, me, me!” echoed from the compound.

  “They discovered the net,” Tommy said as he capped the spray paint. “The balls were worth shipping, packing material or not.”

  A few minutes later, Tommy finished inspecting the painted pieces and wiped his hands on a rag. “I need a break. Time to show those kids my volleyball skills. Care to join me?”

  “I have another section I’d like to finish today. You go ahead.”

  “Your loss. Don’t overdo it on your hands, okay? Too much sanding and your joints will scream tomorrow. I speak from experience.”

  Alessandro waved him off. “I’ll be fine. Have fun, but no spiking at the kids.”

  “No promises. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Tommy disappeared, taking a circuitous route to the compound so the kids wouldn’t know where he’d been. Alessandro bent his head to focus on the task at hand.

  It was slow, painstaking work, sanding section after section of the pieces Tommy had collected, then either welding the pieces or finding the proper size screws to assemble them into a functioning grill large enough to cater to the entire shelter. In the aftermath of the tsunami, every piece of metal that had been hit by the massive waves had rusted. Tempting as it was to order a new grill and have it delivered, Alessandro appreciated the environmental need to repurpose what was already present. Retrieving and repairing lost items also gave the residents the sense that the tsunami couldn’t defeat them. That sense of pride outweighed any benefit a new grill might offer.

  A bead of sweat ran down the side of his temple. Another dripped from his forehead, hitting the hard-packed dirt near his feet. When he finished sanding the next section, he’d head directly to the shower house. Eating dinner in his current state was out of the question.

  Of course, the shower house made him think of the soap he’d delivered to each of the women working at the shelter. Ever since he’d opened the boxes in Frannie’s office, he’d caught whiffs of it on Chloe, Irene, Pearl, and—though he tried not to—on Frannie. The worst was yesterday, when Frannie walked behind him in the dining hall while he was seated at dinner with Naomi and some of the other girls.

  He didn’t need to look to know that it was Frannie, rather than one of the other women. The airy lemon seemed part of her, a natural extension of her optimism and sunny attitude. It spoke to her ability to focus on everything good and right, rather than on the millions of wrongs in the world.

  Crazy, he thought as he attacked the metal. He’d always been one to admire the scent of a woman, but never had he caught himself daydreaming about the scent of a particular woman, let alone contemplated the ways it reflected her personality.

  He closed his eyes, remembering the joy that radiated from Frannie’s face as she read the handwritten label, then raised the bar to her nose. It was a simple action, yet one that sent a wave of yearning through him. When he’d told her she deserved to be spoiled, she’d looked at him with such heartfelt emotion in her eyes he’d been forced to turn and dig inside the box once more, for fear she’d see the ache in his.

  A scuff behind him made him pause. He turned his head, expecting to see a bird or a snake. Instead, Naomi stood near the base of a palm tree. She held her hands behind her back and watched him. Her stance made him suspect she’d been there a while.

  He smiled in acknowledgment, then turned to his task. As if she’d said hello, he told her, “You caught me daydreaming when I should be working. You’re welcome to help if you’d like. There’s a grate propped against that rock that could use some cleaning. You don’t have to, though.”

  It took Naomi a full ten seconds to move, during which time Alessandro kept up his rhythmic sanding. When he dared look at her, she’d taken a seat on the rock where the grate rested. She whipped her hands to her lap, making him suspect she’d been holding something behind her back when she’d approached him and had hidden it behind the rock.

  “The bucket next to the grate has soapy water,” he told her. “There’s a pile of rags at the edge of the newspaper. Use those to clean the grate, but be careful not to touch the black metal pieces that are on the newspaper. They’re covered in wet paint.”

  Naomi located the rags, dipped one in the bucket, then took a seat on the rock and started washing the grate. It was slow work, but didn’t seem to bother her. When Alessandro finished the piece he was sanding, he walked to Naomi’s side and used one of the wet rags to wipe away the dust he’d created. He placed the piece near those Tommy had painted, then grabbed another section to sand. His hands ached and he was ready to be done for the day, but it was the first time Naomi had approached him, rather than the other way around, and he wanted to see where it went.

  Several minutes later, cheers came from the compound. Tommy’s ebullient voice carried over those of the kids, though the words were unintelligible.

  “Didn’t feel like playing volleyball?”

  Naomi shook her head. She was such a beautiful girl. She had the soft, rounded cheeks typical of the South Pacific, glowing black hair pulled into a long braid, and dark, intelligent eyes framed by thick lashes. Despite the silence that evidenced her pain, he sensed that Naomi possessed a deep well of inner strength. Her grades were good, she kept her bunk area scrupulously clean, and Alessandro noticed that she took the time to put away her dishes after each meal. Even now, she concentrated on cleaning every nook and cranny on the grate. She cared about the quality of her work.

  What he wouldn’t give to see her with her family.

  “I love volleyball, but even I’m happy to sit out the game today. It’s hot.” He glanced at Naomi. “It’s hot back here, too, but at least we have a few trees for shade. And there’s no running involved.”

  Naomi gave him a small smile and nodded. He kept her gaze for a beat, then focused on his sanding. His mouth grew tight and chest ached. It was the first time he’d ever seen her smile. Knowing he’d broken through that barrier was the most rewarding moment he’d experienced since his arrival.

  “Any kids see you come here?”

  She shook her head.

  “What about the adults?”

  She shrugged one shoulder.

  “Maybe Tommy?”

  A nod.

  “That’s good. If he knows, he’ll make sure no one comes looking for you. All of this” — he waved his sanding block in the direction of the newspapers— “is a surprise. Tommy wants to have a barbecue next weekend for everyone. He’s lined up the food, so all we need is the grill. I can trust you to keep a secret, right?”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  He nearly dropped the block at the softly spoken words. It took him a second to regain the rhythm of his sanding and say thank you.

  He ached to tell her that she had a lovely voice and should speak more often. To ask her questions about her parents and baby brother. To tell her she wasn’t alone. He restrained himself, knowing he was far more likely to scare her than reassure her if he said the wrong thing.

  “When you’re done cleaning the grate, we should head back to the center of the compound. I need to take a shower before dinner.”

  She nodded. A few minutes later, while he stood and stretched, she located a clean rag and used it to dry the grate, then she set it next to the freshly painted items.

  “That really shines in the sun,” he told her. “Good job.”

  She smiled again, this time more broadly than before. She turned away and picked up her rag. He suspected she wished to hide her reaction, but the set of her shoulders was as much evidence of her pride in a job well done as her smile had been.

  He put away his sanding block and organized the rest of the materials before covering them with a small tarp Tommy had left behind. He turned to see if Naomi was ready to return to the compound and was surprised to see her crouched behind the rock.

  “Is everything all right?”

  She stood, but kep
t both her hands behind her back. An odd expression danced across her face.

  “What are you hiding, Naomi Iakopo?”

  Her dark eyes twinkled with mischief at his question. She withdrew one hand from behind her back, flashed her empty palm, then slowly withdrew the other…which held a bottle of Aberlour.

  He couldn’t have been more shocked if she jumped on top of the rock and sang at the top of her lungs.

  “Naomi, did you take that from Miss Frannie’s office cabinet?” At her shrug, he asked, “Why?”

  He expected her to shrug again, but in a voice scratchy from disuse, she said, “It’s your special treat.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I heard Miss Frannie tell Chloe that she ‘put away Alessandro’s booze’ and that you weren’t happy about it because you like to have it before bed.” She shifted the bottle in her grasp. “My mom and dad have whiskey sometimes before they go to bed. They call it their special treat.”

  The kids heard a lot more than they should around this place. Still, it touched him that Naomi wanted to do something for him. Not only that, she cared enough to explain what she’d done after having gone months without speaking at all. “When I had it shipped here, I didn’t know it’s against the rules. So no, I wasn’t happy, because it is my special treat. But that doesn’t make it right to take it.”

  Her face fell. “You don’t want it.”

  Oh, he wanted it. He suspected she’d taken quite a risk to steal it, too. For him. It was probably the first thing she’d planned and done for another person since arriving at the shelter.

  His jaw tightened as he debated what to do. “I’ll tell you what, Naomi. I’ll put this somewhere safe. When your parents return to Kilakuru, I’ll take it outside the shelter and drink a toast with them to celebrate. Then I’ll give the rest back to Miss Frannie to put away. I don’t think she’ll mind that. But no more sneaking into her office, all right? We have rules in place for good reason. All of us need to follow them.”

  Her look was solemn as she nodded her agreement and proffered the bottle. He accepted it, then told her to scoot back to the compound. When he was alone, he raised the bottle to inspect it. She hadn’t opened it.

  Sweat trickled down his back as he ran one finger over the familiar gold print identifying the sixteen year-old single malt and tried to ignore the siren’s call of the honeyed liquid inside. Frannie would kill him for keeping it, but he wasn’t going to blow it with Naomi. If he spilled her secrets, she might never develop the confidence to speak with others.

  She needed to know her trust wasn’t misplaced.

  He tucked the bottle under his arm, circled the compound, then entered the boys’ bunkhouse by the back door.

  Chapter 11

  “Hands out flat, the way I showed you.” Frannie waited for Julie to spread her palms before placing the half-filled plate in the toddler’s chubby hands. “Now use your thumbs to hold the edges. Got it?”

  “Got it, Miss Fwannie!”

  Julie toddled toward the blankets where the other nursery school kids ate, her steps slow and deliberate so she wouldn’t upend her plate. When she sat, she looked to see if Frannie had been watching. Of course, she had. Frannie gave Julie a thumbs-up and was rewarded with a proud grin.

  Chloe, who stood beside Frannie at the end of the food line, mouthed a, “thank goodness” to Frannie before turning to help the remaining nursery school kids with their meals.

  The sizzle of grilling chicken and pork filled the air, along with the scent of Tommy’s ginger, honey, and coconut marinade. Pearl had provided a delicious, tangy potato salad, Irene made her special coleslaw, and several of the older children contributed by slicing and seasoning taro root for the grill. Papaya chunks topped with freshly squeezed lime juice were being consumed faster than the dining hall staff could bring new trays from the kitchen. Later, there would be banana cake, and Tommy promised the kids that when the stars came out tonight, they’d have the opportunity to make s’mores at the fire pit.

  All in all, it was a perfect Saturday afternoon. Even the breeze was soft, blowing just hard enough to keep insects at bay without carrying the kids’ plates or napkins across the compound or lifting the hems of the sundresses most of the women wore for the occasion.

  Frannie brushed the front of the cotton fabric of her yellow sundress. It was the most comfortable item she owned and perfect for Kilakuru’s weather, but the nature of her job meant she rarely had the opportunity to wear it. Pulling it over her head this afternoon felt like a kickoff to the celebration.

  “I think I want to marry that man,” Chloe whispered. She turned away from Frannie to hand a stack of napkins to Mira, who’d escorted the toddlers through the line and was about to join them on the blanket. When Chloe turned back, she added, “He’s amazing.”

  Frannie didn’t hide her confusion. “Marry who?”

  That earned her a frown. “Tommy, of course. Have you tasted the pork or chicken yet? Where has he been hiding this talent?”

  “I haven’t had a chance yet, but the smell alone is enough to make me weep.”

  “Even the kids who usually avoid chicken and pork are eating it. How many parents would love to have the ability to make chicken that even picky eaters will try?”

  Frannie looked around the gazebo and saw that Chloe was telling the truth. To a child, they were devouring their food, Tommy’s grilled meats included.

  “What are you saying, Chloe? Are you trying to find out if Tommy snores? Or if he walks out of the bathroom with floss hanging out of his teeth?”

  Chloe shushed her. “All I’m saying is that the man can cook. I was impressed with his work on the grill itself. The cooking, however…I’m stunned. Is there anything he can’t do?”

  Frannie grinned, but kept further comments to herself. Chloe was a fantastic nurse and loved both her work and the kids, but Frannie suspected that part of Chloe craved the opportunity to spend her evenings in a bustling city, barhopping with friends and flirting with single men, rather than sleeping in a small nurse’s station on a remote island. Barhopping on Kilakuru was impossible and the bustling atmosphere of the shelter had nothing in common with downtown Melbourne. On the other hand, Chloe claimed the nearby coral reef offered her idea of nirvana. Which reminded her…Chloe had gone out early this morning, returning to the shelter about an hour after breakfast ended.

  “How was your dive?”

  “Spectacular.” A broad smile lit the Aussie’s features. For the next few minutes, as they continued to keep the food line organized, Chloe waxed poetic about the fish and coral formations she’d spotted. When she mentioned that Joe Papani, one of the island’s policemen, had gone out with her dive group, Frannie prepared herself for another round of isn’t-he-amazing talk. Instead, Chloe said Officer Papani had heard an out-of-season tropical storm might be heading their way.

  “I received a weather alert last night,” Frannie told her. “Most of the meteorologists’ computer models predict it’ll turn north along the usual storm track, but I’m not sure we can consider ourselves safe yet.”

  “That was my impression, too. I’m set at the nurse’s station, but you may want to ask Tommy what we have on hand to board up the windows that don’t have storm shutters.”

  “Already did. There should be enough wood left over to ensure the generator shed’s better protected, too.”

  Chloe’s lips thinned. “Hadn’t thought about that. Probably a good idea to reinforce it, no matter what. Even if this storm doesn’t hit us, eventually one will.”

  “Agreed.” Though new, sturdier power lines had been installed on the island following the tsunami, they both knew a strong storm could mean days without electricity. Neither of them wanted to risk losing their supply of refrigerated food and medicines.

  Chloe stooped to pick up a stray fork and Frannie’s eyes moved to Johnny, who stood nearby chatting with Tehani, one of the few girls his age. Johnny grinned, then accepted Tehani’s plate an
d walked to an open spot near the side of the gazebo while Tehani went to get drinks for each of them.

  “Don’t let him catch you watching,” Chloe warned.

  Frannie quickly averted her gaze. “Something going on there that I should know about?”

  “Not if you keep watching.”

  Frannie laughed. “That makes me think I should watch more closely.”

  Chloe smiled, then her expression turned serious. “A few days ago, Tehani asked Walter if he could arrange for her to take college entrance exams in September. She also asked if he knew what it would take for her to get financial aid.”

  Frannie handed a plate to one of the toddlers, demonstrating the safest way to carry it, then turned back to Chloe. “What did Walter tell her?”

  “He said that he’d make arrangements for the entrance exams, and that he’d be happy to give Tehani practice tests in the meantime and help her research financial aid.” Chloe angled a look at the teen. “I don’t know her that well. You have any clue what she’s planning?”

  Frannie shook her head. Tehani was seventeen and nearly done with high school. By all accounts, she was a bright girl. “She has a brother in Fiji, but he’s only nineteen or twenty. He left Kilakuru after his high school graduation, just before the tsunami. He works in the kitchen at one of the hotels in Suva. He’d planned to return to work in his parents’ restaurant after saving enough from the Fiji job to get his own place.”

  “Too young to support her, then,” Chloe said on an exhale. “But maybe she wants to join him? Go to the University of the South Pacific in Suva?”

  “Perhaps.” Tehani was one of the few orphans at the shelter, having lost both parents when the family’s beachfront restaurant washed away in the tsunami. Her brother was the only person she had left. “I’ll talk to Walter. In the meantime, it’s good she’s spending time with Johnny. I know he plans to attend university once his parents get their feet on the ground again.”