Summer Vows

by Rochelle Alers

  “Are you certain you don’t want any more oysters?” Jacob asked Ana. He’d recommended they eat at the Schooner Wharf Bar not only because of its open-air dining but also because of the food selections. He’d ordered the raw bar combination of shrimp and oysters.

  Chewing and swallowing a mouthful of avocado, she said, “Very certain.”

  Ana knew if she continued to eat off Jacob’s plate she never would finish her own salad made with blue crab and avocado over mixed greens, tomato and corn and red-pepper relish, accompanied by honey-mustard dressing. It’d taken her a while to decide whether to order the salad or conch and shrimp ceviche. What had surprised her about the restaurant was happy hour was from 7:00 a.m. to noon, and again from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. Her gaze lingered on the Schooner Western Union, a 130-foot-long tall ship bobbing and rocking gently along the wharf.

  “That boat is magnificent.” There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice, because seeing the ship was a reminder of what she would’ve shared with her girlfriends if she’d been able to accompany them on vacation.

  “Do you get seasick?” Jacob asked when following the direction of her gaze.

  “No. I’m quite comfortable on or in the water.”

  “Would you like to go on a sunset cruise?”

  Her eyes sparkled, reminding him of polished smoky quartz. A fringe of lashes lowered once he gave her a long, penetrating stare. Jacob still hadn’t figured out what it was about Ana that made him say and do things that were totally out of character for him. Barging into the shower stall had left him so off-balance that it’d taken a while to gather his wits. At first he’d tried telling himself that she deserved the intrusion because she thought nothing of teasing him. Well, it hadn’t been the first time a woman had teased him and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. But then he’d never reacted to them in the way he’d reacted with Ana.

  He’d accused her of playing a dangerous game wherein there would be no winner. If they did make love Jacob knew it wouldn’t be easy for him to walk away. After all, he’d admitted to being practically family because he was her cousin’s godfather. There would be occasions in the future where they would run into each other at family gatherings, and he doubted whether the encounters would go as smoothly as he’d want.

  In the past whenever he’d ended a liaison with a woman Jacob had always made certain beforehand that there would be no possibility of reconciling. That was not to say he was unwilling to try to work out whatever particular problem plagued their relationship, but he didn’t believe in exacerbating a situation that was certain to become even more problematic. He’d already admitted to himself that he liked Ana, but not enough to become that emotionally involved with her.

  “I’d love to.”

  Jacob blinked as if he’d been in a trance. Why, he mused, hadn’t he realized the warm, smoky timbre of her voice? It was slightly husky, the register sultry, seductive. “Do you have plans for tomorrow night?” he teased, his expression deadpan.

  Ana laughed under her breath. “I’m going to have to call my boyfriend and ask him if he has made plans for tomorrow night. The last time I went out with a guy and didn’t tell him there was hell to pay.”

  Propping his arm on the table, Jacob rested his chin on the heel of his hand. “What did he do?”

  Ana scrunched up her pert nose. “He tied me to the bedposts with silk ribbons and fed me chocolate-covered strawberries.”

  Throwing back his head he laughed loudly, garnering the attention of diners from nearby tables. “That sounds a little kinky to me.”

  “It was.”

  He sobered quickly. “So, you like kinky?”

  “It all depends on who’s dispensing the kinkiness.”

  “Who are you, Ana?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Jacob lowered his arm and leaned over the table. “When I told you I was horny you said I was disgusting,” he whispered in Spanish. “Then you think nothing of walking around in lingerie that had me so turned-on I was afraid I was going to come right then and there. Fast forward—I get into the shower with you and you cover up your ta-tas and beaver like an innocent schoolgirl.” A rush of color darkened her face, but Jacob ignored it. “You’re what men call a tease. It’s come here, baby, then you flip the script when you put up the sign that says look but don’t touch. Is that what happened with you and that poor dude you brought to S.J.’s baptism? You told him or sent out signals that you were going to give him some, then changed your mind.”

  Eyes narrowing like a cat before attacking, Ana gave Jacob a withering glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she countered in Spanish. “He was asking to take what friendship we had to the next level when he knew when we’d begun dating that we would never be more than friends. And for you information I don’t tease men—”

  “What do you call walking around in near-transparent underwear?” he asked, cutting her off.

  Ana sucked her teeth. “That’s your problem if you have so little self-control. Like I said, I’m certain you’ve seen more on the beach.”

  “But I’m not living with those women, m’ija.”

  “We’re not actually living together.”

  “What are we then?”

  She smiled. “Roommates.”

  “That’s BS and you know it.”

  “It’s not BS,” Ana countered. “Why are you trying to make more of what we have?”

  “What is it we do have, Ana?”

  A pregnant silence ensued as they stared at each other. “I don’t know, Jacob.”

  “I do know that...” His words trailed off when a shadow fell over the table. Glancing up he saw someone from his past. Pushing back his chair Jacob stood up. “Kent! You old dog. What have you been up to?” He thumped the man’s back at the same time giving him a rough hug.

  “Other than couple of tours of Iraq, Afghanistan and a bum leg I’m as good as they come.”

  Jacob stared at the stocky blond man with whom he’d gone through basic training. “So, you stayed in?” he asked Wayland Kent.

  Wayland ran a hand over his military-style cropped hair, minute lines fanning out around large hazel eyes when he smiled. “I stayed in as long as I could. Got a medical discharge, sold my trailer, and me and the missus moved from Chattanooga, bought a houseboat, and we now live down here year-round. Are you still babysitting diplomats?”

  Jacob gave Ana a quick glance. She’d concealed half of her face behind the oversize sunglasses. Although she went through the motion of eating her salad he knew she’d overheard Wayland’s comment about him protecting diplomats. And it was the first time he’d ignored his instincts about bringing Ana to Key West. If they’d remained in Long Key, cloistered behind locked doors, then it appreciably decreased the risk of someone recognizing her or even having to explain her to those he knew.

  Yet there was something about her exuberance when she saw places she’d read about and had wanted to visit for half of her life that held him enthralled with her childlike delight. Ana continued to mystify Jacob. It was as if she was a child in a woman’s body. One moment she could be soft, teasing and without warning she’d become a siren, again teasing but this time it was so sexy and overt that he feared losing control. There weren’t too many times in his life when he hadn’t been in control. She claimed they were only roommates but he refused to acknowledge that. For him the sexual tension was so strong and thick it was palpable.

  “No. I’m now a federal marshal,” he said to Wayland.

  “So you’ve gone from one babysitting job to another.”

  “Wrong, Kent. I’m now a paper pusher.” He held out his arms. “Take a good look at a glorified bureaucrat in living color.” Jacob told him about his position at the Miami-based detention center.

  Wayland whistled. “You must have some serious juice to get desk duty. By the way, what are you doing down here?”

  “I’m on vacation.”

  He leaned in closer to Jacob. “Aren
’t you going to introduce me to your lady?”

  Jacob realized this was going to be the first test as to whether he and Ana would be able to pull off their pre-arranged subterfuge. “Princesa. Esto es mi compañero marino viejo, Wayland.”

  Ana extended her right hand in a limp gesture. “I’m Princesa,” she said in heavily accented Spanish. “Nice meeting you.” The words had come out haltingly.

  Wayland took Ana’s hand, then looked sideways at Jacob. “Is her name really Princess?”

  He nodded. “Yes, it is. And she is a princess.”

  “Why don’t you and Princess come and stay with me and Adele for a few days? We can do some sailing, and if you’re game we can get in a little fishing. Adele and me never had any kids, so we’re like two big kids doing exactly what we want to do.”

  “I’d like to...but I don’t think we can,” Jacob stammered. He gestured with his head toward Ana.

  “He’s right,” Ana piped up, still affecting the accent. “It’s not what you think. Jacobo no es mi novio.”

  “What is she saying?” Wayland asked.

  Jacob picked up on her cue immediately. “Look, Kent. Precious and I just started seeing each other—”

  Wayland gave him an incredulous stare. “You mean you two are not...”

  “No, we are not,” Ana hissed between clenched teeth. “I am no puta!”

  Jacob approached Ana and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Wayland didn’t say you were, Princesa.”

  She threw up a hand in dramatic fashion. “Why do all men think just because they see a woman with a man that she is giving him her body?”

  Red-faced, Wayland took a step backward. He motioned to a passing waitress for a pen, jotted his telephone number on a napkin and then handed it to Jacob. “I don’t want to start something between the two of you, but here’s my cell number. Give me a call whenever you have a chance and we’ll get together. I still keep in touch with some of the guys from basic training. My boat is a 48-footer that can sleep as many as ten, so we could have quite a reunion.”

  Jacob pocketed the napkin, and then pulled his former corps buddy close. “I’m sorry about that,” he whispered in his ear. “She can be a little overly dramatic at times. She was raised by her grand- and great-grandmothers, and they’re very old-fashioned when it comes to premarital sex.”

  “There’s no need to explain, Jones. Remember, Adele wouldn’t give me any until I put an engagement ring on her finger. It has been worth it because we just celebrated our fifteenth anniversary.”

  “Congratulations, man. Give Adele my best and I will call you.”

  Ana watched from behind the dark lenses as Jacob and the man he’d introduced as Wayland say their goodbyes. She was hard-pressed not to laugh when the color in Wayland’s face had turned a beet-red. Although she’d trusted Jacob enough not to accept the man’s invitation to spend time on his houseboat, she wasn’t certain whether upon closer inspection he would recognize her.

  And despite the wig and sunglasses there was always the possibility someone would see through the ruse. The last thing she needed was for the media to report she’d been sighted in the Florida Keys, fearing once again a bull’s-eye would be trained on her.

  Jacob sat down again. “You missed your calling, m’ija. You’re quite an actress.”

  A half smile parted her lips. “I had to come up with something quickly or blow it.” Ana angled her head. “And it wasn’t as if it was all a lie.”

  Lowering his head, Jacob kissed the wig. “Your accent was spot-on.”

  “That comes from having a Cuban-born grandmother. Abuela spoke English with a slight accent, but it would become more pronounced whenever she was angry or excited. She spoke Spanish to all of her children, and whenever we went to visit her she would speak Spanish to us because she claimed we should never forget that we’re the descendants of what had been the Cuban upper class. Today that may sound a little pretentious, but if there had been Cuban royalty Marguerite Joséfina Isabel Diaz-Cole definitely would’ve been a princess.”

  “Diego started to tell me about his great-grandmother, but somehow we got distracted and he never finished the story.”

  “I’ll tell you about her after we get back to the house.”

  “Talking about getting back,” Jacob said, lowering his voice. “This is going to be our first and last public excursion. Once we return to Long Key you’re going to have to be content to remain close to the house. I’m sorry—”

  Ana placed her hand over his. “It’s okay, Jacob. I understand the risk we’re taking coming here.”

  He looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. Again, Ana had surprised him with her unexpected acquiescence. Jacob didn’t know why, but he’d expected her to debate why she shouldn’t be allowed out in public with the wig and dark glasses.

  “So, it’s all right with you?”

  She nodded. “When Wayland saw you my insides were quivering like frozen gelatin. I was so afraid that he’d recognize me and call out my name. I know I haven’t been the most cooperative person you’ve ever protected, but all of that is going to change. I’ll do whatever it is you want.”

  “Thank you, baby,” he crooned.

  She flashed her trademark dimpled smile. “De nada, m’ijo.” Her mood had changed like quicksilver. “I want you to promise me one thing, Jacob.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, running a finger down the length of her nose.

  “When all of this madness is over I’d like to come back here with you. Then I won’t have to hide behind a wig and sunglasses, while pretending that I’m Princesa.”

  Jacob’s mouth replaced his finger when he kissed her nose. “You can take off the wig and glasses, but you’d still be a princess. Do you want anything else to eat or drink?”

  She offered him a bright smile. “No, thank you. I think when we get back to the house I’m going to take a shower and a nap.”

  Jacob returned her smile. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He signaled their waitress for the check.

  Ana lay beside Jacob in the red, white and yellow striped hammock strung between two live oak trees. She shifted onto her side and rested her head on his shoulder, one leg sandwiched between his, and an arm over his belly. Her sunglasses and the baseball cap Jacob had given her when they’d made their way down the staircase and out of the house were in the hammock near their bare feet. They’d returned to the house, showered separately, but instead of sharing the bed they’d decided relaxing outdoors was preferably to staying inside an air-cooled room.

  “What are you thinking about, m’ija?” Jacob asked after a comfortable silence.

  She emitted an audible sigh. “Would you believe nothing?”

  He chuckled softly. “No. There’s no way your brain isn’t spinning ideas about Serenity.”

  “You probably won’t believe it, but I haven’t thought about Serenity since you told me Jason closed the office.”

  “Wonders never cease.”

  She tickled his ribs. “Very funny.”

  Ana fell silent again. She didn’t know why, but she’d always felt as if Jason had little or no interest in running the company which was why she’d assumed that responsibility. There had been times when she’d wished he would take over and allow her to take a step back for more than the time she took when on vacation.

  She would return and they would meet in her office where he’d brief her on everything that had occurred during her absence, then he would go into the studio, not reappearing until it was time for a staff meeting. There had been times when she would leave at seven or later and Jason would still be in the studio rehearsing, editing or writing.

  “Tell me about your grandmother.”

  Ana smiled. Jacob asking about her grandmother shattered her musings about her brother. “Abuela was an only child. Her father owned one of the largest tobacco plantations and cigar factories on the island, and she’d grown up privileged and pampered. She’d just turned four when her
mother died in a riding accent. When she was six her father sent her to a convent because he knew she would receive a quality education, but he also felt the nuns would teach her the deportment for a young woman of her station.”

  “Did it work?”

  “The education part did, but whatever deportment she learned was undone by her aunt. When Abuela left home to attend the Universidad de la Habana her tía Gloria had become her chaperone. It was the 1920s and women were cutting their hair, raising their hemlines and smoking in public, and while Gloria was doing all those things, as well as wearing slacks, she never married. But there were rumors that she slept with both men and women.”

  “¡Avergüence en ella!”

  Ana’s soft laughter was smothered against the column of Jacob’s neck. “Gloria was without shame. I’m certain my great-grandfather wanted to disown his sister, but couldn’t. The straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back was when photographs of Abuela wearing nothing more than a dressing gown were exhibited in a Havana art gallery. She’d become the muse of an up-and-coming artist whose work would eventually hang in the homes of well-to-do Cubans.

  “My grandmother was tall, slender and unlike a lot of so-called modern women during that time. She refused to cut her hair. It was raven-black and reached her waist. She also was very beautiful, and when she stared out at the camera with her mysterious dimpled smile she’d instantly become the toast of Havana.

  “When her father heard about the photographs he ordered her back to Piñar del Río, because she’d dishonored the family name. In order to save face he planned to marry her off to any upper-class man who represented the social elite, and his age was not a factor.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “It was the norm in those days when women had little or no independence. They were nothing more than chattel, but M.J., as she preferred to be called, threatened to take a lover, or even lovers, like her aunt.”