No Virgin Island

by C. Michele Dorsey

  Sabrina hadn’t answered, not wanting to get in trouble with her father or, worse, get him in trouble. Her father had made it a habit of sneaking out most nights to the Drunken Dory, a bar down the street, after he thought she had fallen asleep. Once he left, Sabrina would take a flashlight from under her pillow and slip out onto roof outside the bathroom window to watch the clouds and stars and to forget how scary it was to be alone at night.

  Ruth, who owned the diner next door and six tiny motel cottages behind it, knew who Sabrina was. Once in a while, when he felt guilty and had a little money, her father would take her to the diner for macaroni and cheese or grilled cheese and tomato soup.

  “Sabrina, honey, say this with me: ‘I, Sabrina, am not afraid. I, Sabrina, am fearless. I, Sabrina, am not afraid. I, Sabrina, am fearless.’”

  Ruth kept repeating those words until Sabrina joined her. “I, Sabrina, am not afraid. I, Sabrina, am fearless.” Sabrina’s voice grew louder with Ruth’s and she began to say the word “fearless” with vigor. Ruth continued chanting the refrain with Sabrina as she slid out a ladder she kept leaning against the diner to the side of the house. She wiped her hands on her apron and started climbing up the rungs, all the while joining in: “I, Sabrina, am not afraid. I, Sabrina, am fearless.”

  When she reached Sabrina, Ruth opened her arms. Sabrina leaned forward, trusting that Ruth would lead her to safety, feeling Ruth’s heart pounding against her as she smelled the stale cigarette smoke on Ruth’s apron.

  Once safely on the ground, Ruth let Sabrina down and took her hand.

  “I think a brave little girl like you has earned herself some ice cream, don’t you?” Sabrina had nodded and followed her through the kitchen of the diner, which was closed, into the dining area, where Ruth placed her on a stool with a shiny red vinyl cover.

  “Vanilla or chocolate? Or maybe strawberry?”

  She chose strawberry and dug into the huge mound of ice cream Ruth placed on the counter in front of her.

  Ruth picked up the receiver to the turquoise phone on the wall and dialed a number, speaking softly so Sabrina couldn’t hear her words. She wasn’t worried about who she was calling. She knew she was safe with Ruth. No harm would come to her now.

  Sabrina had been right about Ruth. When her father had staggered into the diner twenty minutes later, Ruth marched him through the swinging doors into the kitchen and lambasted him. Sabrina never knew what Ruth said, but from that day until the day Sabrina left for college, she and her father lived in one of Ruth’s little motel cottages behind the diner.

  “I, Sabrina, am not afraid. I, Sabrina, am fearless.” Sabrina had said those words so many times that she thought they were probably carved inside her forehead—before she took the entrance exam for the pricy private high school her maternal grandmother had paid for in an effort to assuage her guilt for her mother’s abandonment of Sabrina, before she went out on her first date with a boy who had to pick her up at the diner so Ruth could check him out, before she interviewed after college for a position at WXYZ as weekend meteorologist, before going on air and trying to sound like she was as normal as any young woman who’d grown up on Main Street, USA, and before she went on trial for first-degree murder of her husband.

  Kelly’s life may have been more privileged than Sabrina’s, but Sabrina suspected it had as many fears and demons in it.

  “Stay with me tonight. I’ll call Mara and explain,” Sabrina was surprised to hear herself say.

  Kelly, Seth, and Neil all looked at her as if she’d just landed from another planet.

  “Really?” Kelly asked.

  “Really.”

  “Seth and I will take off and let you girls chat away,” said Neil. “Just as soon as Seth tells us a little about what happened at the police station earlier.” Sabrina was grateful Neil still had her back.

  “Oh, you mean when they asked me to come in and give a statement?” Seth asked. His naiveté was both endearing and annoying.

  “Yes. What did they ask and what did you tell them?” Neil asked, sounding like a lawyer again.

  “Did you clean the pool at Villa Mascarpone that morning?” Sabrina asked, wanting the answer to that question first.

  “I get to ask the questions, Salty, although that’s a good one,” Neil said. “Start with that one. Did you clean the pool?”

  “Sure, first thing. Right before I did the Banks’, like always,” Seth said. Sabrina realized Seth worked much as Henry and she did. They had their own schedules and got their business done with little or no interaction with others.

  Kelly sat back on the rocker, beginning to gently rock back and forth, appearing more relaxed when the conversation turned to murder than when it was focused on her father.

  “Was Carter Johnson there? Did you see him?” Sabrina asked over Neil’s frown. She was desperate to understand what had happened for her own sanity and to get everyone else off her back.

  “Yeah, he was inside and said hello when I called out, saying I was there to clean the pool,” Seth said. For the first time, he reached for the Sam Adams beer sitting next to his chair and took a chug.

  “Did he say anything to you?” Neil asked.

  “Just something like he’d taken his last dip and to go to it.”

  “Could you see what he was doing inside? Did you ever go into the house?” Neil asked.

  “No, I never go into houses. Not a good idea. I learned early when one of the female houseguests asked me to come in and help her turn on the dishwasher and decided what she wanted to do was turn me on instead,” Seth said, a mischievous smile across his face.

  “We decided that it was best to have a policy that the pool person was prohibited from entering any of our villas after that, Neil. Too much exposure for Ten Villas, and Seth felt pretty uncomfortable,” Sabrina added. The truth was Henry and Sabrina were never sure about what had happened on that occasion. Seth was a devilishly delicious-looking young man, always arriving to clean the pools barefoot and in his bathing suit, which made sense, given his line of work. But he was young and they knew very little about him, other than he showed up on time and did his job.

  “So what did you tell the cops?” Neil asked.

  “Just what I told you. That I saw Carter Johnson from the pool. He had stuff on the dining room table. It looked like he was packing, but I couldn’t see what from the distance through the screens. I cleaned the pool and left. He was still there.”

  “What else did Janquar ask you?” Neil asked.

  “He wanted to know if I had seen anyone else. He asked if anyone from Ten Villas had been there.”

  Anyone from Ten Villas? Sabrina knew that meant her. Janquar wanted Seth to implicate her and it infuriated her.

  “What did you say?” Neil asked. Sabrina thought she saw Neil holding his breath.

  “I said I was the only person at Villa Mascarpone. The people at Ten Villas wouldn’t come until the guest had checked out,” Seth said.

  “Okay, what about anyone else? Did you see anyone in the area, even on the ride out or back?” Neil asked.

  “The only other person I saw that morning was Mr. Banks pulling into his driveway just as I was leaving,” Seth said.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Why are you calling me?” Henry asked, his heart pounding in his ears. He hadn’t heard David’s voice since the day his lawyer had told him he had to stop all communications with him, including the midnight drunk dialing they’d both engaged in, or he would lose not only his job but also the settlement that would let him start over.

  “How could I not? I just saw on INN that there’s been a murder on St. John at one of the villas you manage. Of course I called,” David said, the concern in his voice sounding genuine to Henry. But how could he ever trust any word he spoke? David had betrayed him, and during those late-night calls, Henry always let him know how contemptuous he found his behavior.

  “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out how you could put the screws to me wi
th your wife and with my job, David. I don’t know how you do anything. I don’t know how you put your head on your pillow at night and sleep, with all you did.”

  “I know, I know. I was a beast. A Judas, like you said. I don’t suppose it matters how much I’m paying for it, does it? You probably don’t want to hear what’s gone on here, how I am an outcast at work—”

  “No, I don’t,” Henry said, meaning it. He was surprised he didn’t want to savor the details about how miserable David was, how karma had got its man. Henry had put David behind him. He hadn’t forgotten him, hadn’t really stopped loving him. No, what he had done was finally accept that his life would not be as he had planned, and that had liberated him. He no longer missed the airline staff he had considered part of his family. He had a new family of friends on a small island and a business he was proud to call his. It was bad enough that his new life was being threatened by Carter Johnson’s murder, but did David think he could be yanked back into the past just because he was vulnerable? Could he?

  “When I heard about the murder, Henry, and that it was at one of the villas you and that woman manage, I had to call and make sure you were okay. I saw Faith Chase beginning another crusade of destruction against your partner. I’m worried about you, Henry. I don’t want to see you swept into the brutal media frenzy Sabrina attracts. That’s why I called. That, and because I still love you. I always will,” David said. Henry thought he might be crying.

  “I’d be better off if you hated me, given how you show your love,” Henry said.

  “Do you really hate me, Henry?” Henry could hear the misery in David’s voice, the pain he had heard night after night on those secret telephone calls, when David would try to explain why he had screwed Henry over; how much David needed his pilot’s license, even if the airlines booted him; and how his wife could ruin him at work and destroy him financially.

  “Are you still with her?” Henry asked, not wanting to but needing to know. David’s silence was his answer.

  Henry pushed the off button on the phone.

  Chapter Thirty

  After Neil and Seth left, Sabrina punched in the numbers to Mara’s home phone, picturing Mara frantic with worry about Kelly’s whereabouts. She hoped Rory wasn’t home to add to Mara’s troubles. She’d watched Rory Eagan at Bar None. He could be very charming and engaging with tourists, particularly with young beautiful female ones. He was bright enough and sometimes even funny. And he was very good looking—until you got to know him, and then his good looks faded.

  Rory had hit on Sabrina when she’d first arrived on St. John. She had been drinking pretty regularly to numb the wounds still raw from the trial and had apparently lacerated his ego publicly at Bar None. Rory had been hostile to her ever since.

  When he answered on the third ring, Sabrina could tell he was drunk.

  “What do you want?” Rory asked when Sabrina asked for Mara.

  “I want to speak to Mara. Please,” Sabrina said, hating to take any guff from him but knowing Mara needed and deserved to know where Kelly was.

  “We don’t want you calling here. You’ve disgraced the whole island on national television. That woman, what’s her name? Making St. John sound like a crime mecca. Why don’t you just pack up and leave St. John to those of us who deserve to live here?” Rory said, cutting off the telephone call.

  Sabrina sat still, stunned. At the moment, her priority was to let Mara know Kelly was with her and safe. But when the dust settled and Carter Johnson’s murderer was in custody, Sabrina planned to have a conversation with Rory Eagan to let him know that he was the one who didn’t deserve to live here. She decided to try to call Mara on her cell phone, hoping this would be part of the 50 percent of the time when there was cell phone reception out there at the end of Fish Bay. When Mara picked up, Sabrina could hear the concern in her voice.

  “I was just about to get in the car and go look for her,” Mara said after Sabrina told her Kelly was with her and that Seth had brought Kelly there, thinking it was a safe place.

  “She’s fine, Mara, although pretty upset about the confrontation with Rory and Seth.”

  “It was awful. I’m sure she’s embarrassed that Rory behaved like that in public,” Mara said, and Sabrina could hear that she got it. Sabrina wondered what a public humiliation would do to a sensitive, even fragile adolescent.

  They agreed Kelly would stay with Sabrina and that Mara would pick her up in the morning to catch the ferry to St. Thomas and get her back into her routine before she thought twice about it.

  “Okay,” Sabrina said to Kelly, who was still rocking on her chair but now with Sabrina’s permission. “All set with Mara.”

  “Is she mad at me?”

  “She didn’t sound it,” Sabrina said, not really wanting to become involved in parental politics.

  “I feel bad for her,” Kelly said.

  “How so?” Sabrina asked, figuring Kelly wanted to tell her. She was always hearing confessions, revelations, and secret information for some reason. At the television station, she’d known who was sleeping with whom, who’d had “work” done, and when someone was negotiating a new contract with another station. She’d kept her mouth shut about it all because she didn’t want to get involved with the messes people created in their own lives. That had only seemed to encourage people to tell her more. Sabrina figured she could at least lend an ear to a kid who had the misfortune to be the daughter of Rory Eagan.

  “My father isn’t very nice to her, even though she’s a great stepmother to me and Liam. She’s taken care of us since we were four,” Kelly said, pulling her knees in and placing her feet under her. She smiled for the first time that evening, and Sabrina thought her grin looked mischievous and slightly familiar.

  “How old are you anyway?” Sabrina asked, thinking she seemed more worldly than most teenagers, which surprised her, given that she was raised on an island.

  “Seventeen. One more year here on this miserable island and then I get to go to college. I might go to Boston or New York,” Kelly said, clearly excited. “Except, I don’t know now that I’ve met Seth. I don’t think I can leave him. Maybe he’ll have to leave St. John too.”

  Oh dear God, Sabrina thought. Does it start this early? A beautiful young woman, clearly bright and articulate, with a stepmother willing to write a check to any of the best colleges, and Kelly might sacrifice it all for a boyfriend? She wondered if they were sleeping together. She hoped they weren’t, knowing that they probably were.

  “Keep your options open,” Sabrina said, not wanting to anger her.

  “I just wish Liam were home so Mara wouldn’t have to be alone with him. Or that those people weren’t at Villa Mascarpone so that he could leave and go to his other house,” Kelly said, now frowning. She was as beautiful frowning as she was smiling.

  “His other house?” Sabrina asked.

  “That’s what we call it. When he gets ugly or comes home totaled after closing Bar None, he stays next door.”

  Next door? With the Banks? Were they that kind to their neighbors? The only other house was Villa Mascarpone.

  Sabrina had to know. “With the Banks?” she asked. “They are very nice folks, aren’t they?”

  “The old people? Yeah, I guess they’re nice. I don’t really know, except Mrs. Banks sends over some great desserts sometimes. No, at the rental villa. Mara has extra keys,” Kelly said and then seemed to realize this was something she should not be telling her. Sabrina said nothing and tried to stay expressionless.

  “She always goes over and cleans up after him. I’ve even helped her,” Kelly said. “Please don’t tell Mara I told you. I’m already screwed. It’s just, we need to get him out of the house before . . .”

  Before what? Sabrina thought. Before he hit one of them? Before he got so ugly and belligerent his words were worse than blows?

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Sabrina said, meaning it but not promising her she wouldn’t have a conversation with Mara. She would, but Kel
ly would never know about it.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Deirdre flung open the gate to the pool and stepped inside the courtyard, her heart in her throat. She could see Sam through the glass sliding doors. He was putting the bar stools back in their proper place, and she knew he had probably wiped the feet of each clean of any dirt from the path. He was always cleaning up after her, tidying up her messes, and tonight it broke her heart to know she didn’t deserve this kind man.

  He came to her as soon as she slipped through the doors but said nothing.

  “I’ve lost them, Sam,” Deirdre said, her voice flat.

  “What happened, honey?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Everything. I met Kelly. I saw Kelly. She’s not my daughter.”

  “You can’t be saying . . . He was so sure. I know she’s older, but we expected some surprises,” Sam said, taking Deirdre by the hand and walking her over to sit on the sofa. A single nectarine-colored hibiscus Sam had picked for her earlier sat on the glass coffee table floating in a martini glass.

  “I don’t mean that. I mean it’s too late. She’s already a beautiful young woman, spirited, independent. She’s already who she is. There is no room or time for me to be part of any of that,” Deirdre said.

  She looked over at Sam, who had remained quiet. He always seemed to know when to speak and when to be silent. He had tears in his eyes, and she knew they were for her.

  “The stepmother seems to be a very good person. Kind, but firm, with a sense of humor. I should be grateful that she’s done such a good job. I am grateful for that. But it’s her influence, her ideas, her values that have shaped Liam and Kelly into the people they are today, the people they will always be. They don’t know me. They have nothing that comes from me, Sam.”

  “I don’t think that’s entirely true. You cannot discount how important those first four years were. They were the formative ones, you know. How many experts have we talked to? Books have we read? They all say the same thing. A mother’s early influence when attachment is forming is irreplaceable. Please give yourself credit for that much.”