Paradise Cafe

by Adrienne Staff

  Jack released his grip, and Simon jerked away and staggered through the back door. “And don’t expect me back to help with dinner, either! You can do it yourself!” He turned, bumped heavily into a delivery man, then weaved on around to the driveway.

  Jack shrugged. “Sorry. If you’re short of help now for tonight, I’ll go clean up and come on back.”

  Abby shook her head. “No. Really,” and she laughed that nervous little laugh that comes on the tail end of tension. “No, it’s easier without him.” She turned as she heard the grinding sound of an engine refusing to come to life. “But I don’t think he should drive now.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Jack said.

  “Ms. Clarke, I’ve got your tomatoes here,” the newest intruder interrupted from the doorway. “Want to take a look?”

  “Jack …” Abby sighed, letting her forehead fall against his broad chest.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Go look at your tomatoes, sweet thing. And call if you need me. I’ll see you later.”

  Abby smiled, rolled her eyes heavenward, and began checking the tomatoes, glad for an opportunity to concentrate on something other than Jack.

  Coming home at midnight, she saw the soft glow of a lamp in her living room and raced up the steps. Jack was waiting in the trailer, his chair pushed back on two legs, his feet propped on the couch, reading a Florida Game and Fresh Water Fish Commission report on alligators. There was a warm wind blowing through the open window.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking up as she came in. His eyes were dark with worry.

  “Fine.” She smiled. “We had a good night; no more problems. But I forgot how hard it is. Those two days spoiled me, Gallagher, so it’s your fault.”

  “Then come here,” he said, and he let the paper fall to the floor.

  “Oh, no.” She groaned, then laughed. “I haven’t got the strength.”

  He chuckled. “No, silly. Just come over here. Sit down. Now, put your feet in my lap.” And without another word he began to massage her feet, his strong hands working the tiredness right out of her. She leaned back, eyes closed, dreamy with pleasure.

  When he stopped, thinking she was asleep, she wiggled her toes and gave him a mischievous little grin. “Can I have some more, please, sir?”

  He massaged her feet, then trailed his hands up her calves, soothing, mesmerizing her, slowly moving his hands to her knees, her thighs.… Then, catching her ankles in one hand, he swung her legs up onto the couch, pressed her shoulders down to the other side, and lowered his sweet, welcomed weight down on top of her.

  “Ah,” she whispered happily, “that’s better than any blanket yet invented by mankind!”

  Almost another week vanished that way: Busy days apart, loving nights together.

  One night when she came in, Jack was on the phone, talking to Pop, in Colorado. She fixed herself a cup of chamomile tea and sat down with a book, yet she couldn’t help but hear the strain in Jack’s voice. Like a thin, sharp knife, panic stabbed at her heart.

  As soon as he hung up, she slipped into his arms. “So how are things?”

  There was tension in his arms, in his voice. “I’m staying away too long, Abby. I’ve got to go back. There are things I need to take care of—”

  “No! Oh, not yet. Please,” she whispered, snuggling against his chest, “please?”

  “Okay, darlin’. Shh, don’t worry.”

  Saturday night he picked her up after closing and took her back to the houseboat, and on Sunday morning they lingered late in bed, kissing, snuggling, talking.

  “I want you to stop worrying about that partner of yours, Abigail Jean,” Jack said, kissing her eyelids.

  “Would if I could,” she answered softly. “I guess I’ve gotten myself into something I don’t know how to get out of.”

  “What would it take?” he asked.

  “A fairy godmother. A magic wish. A suitcase full of unmarked money.” She laughed. “You happen to have any of the above on you, Gallagher?”

  Lifting the cover, he grinned. “What you see is what you get, darlin’.” But then he was serious again. He tightened his arms around her and held her close. “Let me talk to him. I’ll straighten him out.”

  “Oh no, Jack!” she exclaimed, aghast at the thought. “I can handle it. Really. Besides, I want him polite, not dead.”

  “I wouldn’t touch him.”

  “You wouldn’t have to. One growl and he’d croak on the spot. But really”—she tugged at a handful of hair on his bronzed chest—“I’ll take care of it.”

  “All right, if you say so,” he agreed reluctantly. “Then on to the next piece of business—”

  “I thought I was the next piece of business.” She wriggled happily within his arms.

  “That’s pure pleasure,” he whispered, then drew a deep breath. “Abby, I’ve got to go back to Colorado.”

  “No, I won’t let you!” she said insistently, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

  He gently cupped her face in his hands and kissed her mouth. “I’ve got to go, Abby. There’s a five o’clock flight, and I’ve got to be on it.”

  She suddenly felt breathless, as if a terrible weight had settled on her chest. “But, Jack, can’t you stay awhile longer?”

  “They need me, Abby.”

  “So do I! I didn’t want to. But you followed me here, and now I do! So it’s not fair for you to leave.” She stopped, dismayed at what her passion had led her to say. She knew she was being selfish. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, fumbling for control, “I know you have to go. I understand.” She rolled over to the side of the bed, bit her lip, and peeked up at him. “But you can’t make me like it.”

  Jack forced a smile. “I don’t like it either. But I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

  She took him to the airport early, using the beach traffic as an excuse. The truth was, it hurt too much to watch the minutes tick by. She walked him to the gate, held back the tears while he kissed her, even managed to send him off with a smile. Then he was gone, vanished into the plane, into his mountains, into a world she had no control over. She dropped down into one of the plastic seats and started to cry, ignoring the stares of everyone around. And then, in the middle of a sob, she felt herself lifted out of her chair.

  “Damn, woman, I can’t do it. They’ll have to manage a little longer without me.” And Jack picked her up and strode out of the airport.

  She cooked him all her favorite foods that night, topping dinner off with a strawberry shortcake that they took to bed with them. “Oh, Jack, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, then tried to show some appropriate concern. “Will they manage okay, Bear and Pop?”

  “Well, I spent an hour on the phone and got some of it worked out. That couple from Kansas City has fallen in love with the place. I told Pop to let them stay on free for another month, in exchange for helping out with the front desk, so that takes the pressure off him. And he just dug out a smoky-quartz crystal he thinks is good enough to sell to a museum, so he’s flying high.”

  “But you miss him. I can tell,” she whispered, stung with guilt.

  “Yes. But I’d miss you more.” He popped a strawberry into her mouth.

  “And Bear?” she asked, licking whipped cream off his fingers.

  “Oh, Bear says the rafting business is doing fine without me. Besides, there’s a race this weekend, and with me out here, he’ll probably come in first, so he’s happy.”

  “I’m glad he’s happy. Are you happy?” She threw one bare leg over his and snuggled close.

  “Yes.”

  “How happy?” she asked, leaning over to kiss the tight band of muscle across his stomach.

  “Very happy.” He grinned.

  Her kisses were butterflies flitting across his belly and chest, landing here … there.… “Just very happy?”

  “Ecstatic!”

  The next day Abby was at the Websters’ farmers’ market doing battle over the price
of sweet corn.

  “Henry, it’s already one o’clock, and you want to get out of this heat as much as I do!” she said with a groan, wiping her damp forehead on her dusty forearm. “Three cents less a dozen or I’m going over to Randy’s stand!”

  “Randy picked that corn three days ago! You’ll never buy it, Abby Clarke.”

  She strode away, glanced at the corn and strode back. “Two cents less, Henry.”

  “Penny and a half, and you take all I’ve got.”

  “Done.”

  She drove the pickup to a space behind the stand, raising a long, slow trail of dust that sifted down on the children eating hot boiled peanuts under the trees, and backed into the nearest space. She had just finished loading the heavy crates when Jack appeared.

  “Great timing, Gallagher! Where were you when I needed you?” She gave him a tired smile and accepted the ice-cold bottle of cola he held out to her. “Umm—you’re forgiven! How did you find me?”

  “It’s Monday, isn’t it?” He kissed the tip of her nose, leaving one clean spot on her dusty face. Laughing, he dropped an arm across her narrow shoulders and hugged her close. “Come on, let me drive you back to the Paradise, and then we’ll go for a swim.”

  Abby climbed gratefully into the passenger seat of the pickup and took another long, refreshing pull on the bottle of cola. Then her eyes narrowed. “Hey, what about your car?”

  “I got a ride out here with that fellow from fish and game.”

  “Oh, no, Jack, not ’gators again!”

  “Me?” Jack asked, feigning innocence.

  “Don’t waste your time, Gallagher. That boy-scout look isn’t going to work on me! I want you here, but I want you in one piece.”

  “Abby, I’m just going along for the ride—”

  “You? No chance! You’re always right in the thick of things, good or bad! And you don’t know ’gators.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

  “Hey, stop worrying. I really am just going along to watch. They’ve had a report of a big ’gator in a lake down near Orlando. Trouble is, there are houses built all around the lake and a couple of small dogs have disappeared, so the neighbors are getting worried. We’re just going down tonight—”

  “Tonight? Then I’m coming along.”

  “That’s the spirit!” He playfully squeezed her knee. “I’m glad you want to watch!”

  “Watch, ha! I’m going to pray.”

  When they drove down that evening, the Florida Game and Fresh Water Fish Commission truck was already parked near the lake. It was a pretty little community, with houses dotting the lakeshore, and neighbor connected to neighbor by a network of landscaped bicycle and jogging paths.

  “Funny place for an alligator to end up,” Jack said musingly, pulling his Jeep in next to the truck.

  “The alligators were here first,” Abby corrected, looking around. “There’s probably a ’gator in every patch of water in Florida. The trouble is, there are more and more people staking claim to those same patches of water, and in the spring and early summer they all run into each other, because the ’gators are out hunting and looking for mates.”

  “Sure. Blame it on love!”

  “Gallagher …” She groaned, and gave him a shove.

  “And how do you know so much about alligators, Ms. Clarke?”

  “I’m a native, remember? A rarer breed than the ’gator, these days.”

  “Rare and wonderful, I’d say.” Jack smiled and edged along the seat to her side, then put his arms around her.

  “Is this the condemned man’s last wish?” Abby asked, then pursed her lips for a kiss.

  Jack laughed out loud. “Are you trying to tell me something, darlin’?”

  “Well, just remember: You don’t have to swim faster than the ’gator. Just faster than the fellow in the water with you.”

  “Very funny!”

  “Old Florida alligator joke,” she said, shrugging. Then she touched his cheek. “Just be careful, Jack. Please.”

  At that moment the door to the truck opened, and the game warden climbed out. He was wearing a vest over his khaki uniform, a gun in a holster, and a sort of miner’s cap, with the lamp already shining brightly in the dusk. And he was holding something that looked like a rifle with a coil of rope attached. “Hey, Jack, glad you could make it.”

  “Hey, Dave. This is Abby Clarke. She’s going to watch.”

  “Great. She can join the crowd.” He jerked his head toward the sidelines.

  And sure enough, a crowd had materialized out of the dusk. Mothers and children, teenagers, fathers just home from work and still wearing their suits and ties, a man positioning a camera on a tripod, and others with cameras and binoculars at the ready were gathered along the shore. There, a safe distance from the water’s edge, they could catch all the action.

  “They must think we’re going to put on a show,” Dave said, laughing without much humor. “Actually we’re going to do this real fast, and real careful. A ’gator is one dangerous animal, quick and mean. And from what the reports read, this one could be twelve feet and five hundred pounds.”

  “Oh, Jack,” Abby whispered, feeling suddenly faint.

  Jack put an arm around her waist. “Abby, it’s going to be fine.”

  “You bet it is.” Dave grinned. “I’ve done this a dozen times and never lost a piece of me yet. Twenty–thirty minutes, and we’ll be back. Gonna find that ’gator, shoot it with this.” He hefted the rifle/lariat contraption. “This, here, gets hooked in the hide, and the ’gator thinks it can get away by rollin’ and rollin’ around and instead winds itself up in the rope. We tow it in, tie it up, and take it away.’ ”

  “Hell of a way to earn a living.” Jack’s eyes glinted with anticipation.

  “Hell of a way!” Dave agreed, grinning in the dark.

  “Did either of you ever think of selling used cars?” Abby asked, hands on hips.

  The two men laughed. Then, in a voice rough-edged with excitement, Dave said to Jack, “Ready? Let’s get the boat and hunt up a ’gator.”

  Abby watched the rowboat move out onto the dark lake, leaving a wake silvered by moonlight. Her heart was in her throat. She was really scared, far more scared than she had let on. Damn that Jack Gallagher, damn him—No! I don’t mean that. Keep him safe, please.

  She heard the steady pull of the oars. Silence. Frogs. Silence. The boat moved from one cluster of reeds to another, in and out of the tall grasses and lily pads. The beam of light from Dave’s cap jumped around the lake, landing here and there like some giant firefly. There was the sound of rowing, then silence, then a sudden shout and splash, and more shouting, and the sound of a gun and wild splashing and thrashing, and more shouts, and silence. Silence. Frogs and silence. Then the boat pulled into view, both men bent over the oars, and Abby could see that a huge alligator was lashed to the side, a loop of rope tying tight its fierce jaws, its teeth showing like rows of daggers, its eyes unblinking.

  “Stand back. Everyone stand back!” Dave yelled, quite unnecessarily, since the crowd had already backed away onto the safety of someone’s neatly mowed lawn. He and Jack bent against the weight and dragged the alligator out of the water. Carefully, holding to rope and tail, they tied him again with a second length of rope, then hoisted him into the truck.

  “Big ’gator!” Dave said, grinning.

  “Great ’gator!” Jack agreed, wearing the same grin.

  Abby slumped against Jack’s Jeep, wet with the sweat of nervousness. She didn’t know whether to jump up and cheer or sit down and cry.

  Jack winked at her and stepped closer. “Told you everything would be fine. That was some ’gator, wasn’t it!” He gave her that boyish, daredevil grin of his, his broad chest heaving with labored breaths. “Some ’gator …”

  “You’re crazy, Gallagher,” Abby said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “You’re too much for me, sometimes.”

  “Long as it’s only sometimes.” He laughed and touched
her face.

  “Hey, Romeo,” Dave shouted. “You’d better go take care of that leg. Nearest hospital’s right on 436. Just head east, about—”

  “I know where it is!” Abby yelled. “But what happened?”

  Jack pulled open the Jeep door. “Why don’t you drive, Abby?”

  Abby froze, mouth open wide, eyes open wide.

  “Abby, it’s nothing. Just climb in and we’ll drive over. Or go around the other side and I’ll drive.”

  Gulping air, gasping, Abby choked out, “Did it bite you? Did the ’gator—”

  There was a gasp from the crowd.

  “Shhh. Everything’s fine,” he said loudly, then pushed her into the driver’s seat of the Jeep and climbed in on the other side. “Everything’s fine, Abby. Don’t worry. Just put it into reverse, and let’s get out of here.”

  Abby jerked the car into motion and raced down the road. “You’d better tell me what’s happening, Jack Gallagher, before I strangle you, and then you won’t need a hospital!”

  “The alligator didn’t touch me,” he said, holding back his smile in the face of her fury. “Set a leg out to get our balance, and something bit me. Think it was a snake—”

  “Snake!”

  “Water moccasin,” he admitted. “But we have plenty of time to get to a hospital. Nothing’s going to happen. Don’t worry.”

  “You tell me not to worry one more time and I’m going to hit you over that thick head of yours with this gearshift,” she threatened, yanking it into fourth. “Why couldn’t we stay home and watch ‘Scarecrow and Mrs. King,’ like other couples? Or go on a date. Bowling. Get drunk at a bar. Oh, how long has it been?”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “Oh, God …”

  “We have plenty of time. Don’t worry.”

  She raced down the highway, weaving in and out of traffic, keeping one eye on Jack.

  In about five minutes he began to sweat. She saw the perspiration pop out along his forehead and upper lip.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” he said, gritting his teeth. He patted her knee, then clenched his hand on his own thigh, digging his fingers into his leg as if to tear out the pain. “Whoa—I think I do have a bit of a problem here.”