by Emma Nichols
Ariana sat, sighed, and eased back against the rock. Closing her eyes, the sun on her face felt good, comforting and relaxing. Her heart slowed, her shoulders softened; she could breathe.
Nikki watched from the bar as she poured them both a cup of coffee. She almost didn’t want to disturb Ariana in her brief moment of peace. Compassion drove the smile that appeared as she approached the closed eyes. Reminded of the woman she once knew, her stomach flipped. Controlling herself, she sat on the seat next to Ariana and sipped from her cup.
Ariana’s eyelids fluttered. ‘I forgot how peaceful it is here,’ she said.
Nikki remained silent.
Ariana opened her eyes and eased herself up, returned her sunglasses to her nose and took the offered drink from Nikki’s hand. ‘How have you been?’ she asked tenderly, briefly holding Nikki’s gaze from behind the dark lens, before turning her attention to the sea, and the horizon.
Nikki frowned. She hadn’t even thought how she might answer that question. ‘Fine… I guess.’
‘This place looks amazing,’ Ariana added with genuine fondness.
Nikki nodded. ‘We still have the workshop out back,’ she said.
‘Perhaps I can take a look, before I…’ she didn’t finish the sentence.
‘Please don’t sell the house,’ Nikki said, softly. She hadn’t meant to raise the subject and berated herself as the words aired. Her shoulders tensed, she placed her cup on the rock to her right, and her head lowered to watch her fingers trying to massage away the tension in her palms.
Ariana shook her head, but the words wouldn’t come. She took a sip of the coffee and found it hard to swallow. Clearing her throat, summoning courage from a place she didn’t realise existed, ‘I have no choice,’ she said. There was no tension in her voice, just resignation.
Nikki baulked at the words that triggered her memory of the conversation they had had just before Ariana had left the island twenty years earlier. I have no choice. ‘Is Martin behind this, or your mother?’ Nikki asked in a curt tone, before she could stop herself. She stared across the short distance between them, examining the subtle movements in the fine lines that shaped Ariana’s mouth as she processed the question.
Ariana sighed deeply and turned towards Nikki. ‘Martin… I, we got divorced,’ she said finally. Her mouth tried to form a smile, and her eyes refused to comply.
She looked older than her thirty-six years, worn down, consumed by something that didn’t make her happy. Nikki considered the shadows, peaking from under Ariana’s sunglasses, the faint lines that seemed ever-present on her forehead, the absence of the dimple in her right cheek that would always appear when she smiled. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, even though she wasn’t. She wanted to reach out and touch Ariana, hold her, and caress her. She clasped the front edge of the bench seat and leaned forward, taking her weight onto her arms, and gazed out to sea. ‘Sophia didn’t know, did she?’ she asked, certain she knew the answer. If Sophia had known about Ariana’s divorce, she would surely have mentioned it to Nikki.
Ariana held her gaze. ‘No,’ she said. She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, her eyes never lifting from Nikki’s mouth.
Nikki nodded.
‘Grandma…’ Ariana stopped speaking, her eyes dropped to the cup shaking in her hand, and she placed it on the sand before continuing. ‘Sophia, we lost contact. I don’t know how it happened. Soph was ten, and I was in a bad place.’ She paused. ‘Things weren’t going well with Martin.’ She paused again as if wanting to say more. ‘Anyway, long story short, I left him, and we moved in with my mother, and I started treatment for depression. The letters stopped coming, and I didn’t have the energy to write either.’
Nikki frowned. Sophia had written to Ariana regularly; she had seen the letters. The words were trying to leap from her mouth, but she thought better of it and bit her tongue.
‘Martin was a womaniser, but he was also addicted to the lifestyle working for my mother’s business had afforded him: the fast cars, the partying, drinking, gambling; the free flow of money was a bigger lure than being with his wife and daughter. It meant so much to him, he couldn’t stop, and he lost it all. He bankrupt us.’
Nikki pursed her lips as she absorbed Ariana’s every word.
‘My mother didn’t agree with the divorce and did her damnedest to try to stop me, asserting that I wasn’t mentally fit to decide for myself. No matter what had happened to us as a family, he was still good for the business.’ Ariana continued, shaking her head, the pain clearly visible in the tension locked into her jaw.
Nikki wanted to ask questions. What about Teresa? Where was she? Was she coming back to the island? That thought caused her to shudder. She tried to reach out, comfort Ariana but stopped. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.
‘So,’ Ariana started again, her tone suddenly more upbeat. ‘So, I couldn’t get here before Sophia died and if she hadn’t left the estate to me I wouldn’t be here at all,’ she said, wincing at the truth. ‘When I found out about the will I was still too unwell. Martin tried to claim the inheritance, and then my mother cut me off. Her last gesture of goodwill was for the Sophia II to bring us here, and she only did that to save face with Soph. Soph doesn’t know most of this by the way,’ she added.
‘Shit!’ Nikki said, the word slipping out, barely audible.
‘Now, it’s down to me.’ Ariana shrugged. She released a deep breath.
Nikki studied the smiling eyes that seemed softer than they had been before Ariana had talked. She smiled in return, a sad smile, the pain of Ariana’s revelation still sitting heavily in her chest. She could feel the anger rising, blinding her mind; the years lost, years that Sophia would have loved with her granddaughter. The years, she too had missed. She pressed at the corners of her eyes, trying to shift her focus from the rising negative emotions.
Ariana drifted to Nikki’s toned muscles; her tanned arms; her broad shoulders, her muscular back. With her heart pounding and her mind throwing distracting thoughts at her, she reached out and placed her hand on Nikki’s arm.
Nikki flinched, the movement instantly causing her to release the bridge of her nose. She watched in mute fascination, the trail of goosebumps flaring up her arm.
Ariana jolted her hand away. ‘Sorry!’ she said. When Nikki lifted her gaze and looked at her, her hazel eyes were darker. Ariana started to shake. She stood suddenly compelled by the need to flee.
Nikki stood quickly and pulled her into her arms. Ariana’s initial stiffness melted and she fell into the embrace. ‘I’m sorry, Ariana. I have no idea what you’ve been through,’ she whispered, holding her close.
Ariana reclaimed the breath that had been stolen from her with the unexpected embrace and leaned into Nikki’s warm shoulder. Captivated by the flowery, slightly spicy scent, and her soft skin, finding it hard to resist, she snuggled closer. ‘It has been difficult,’ she said, taking a deep breath, and releasing it slowly. Her eyes wandered from Nikki in the direction of the increase in noise, customers arriving at the bar, laughing and chattering. She pulled out of the warmth. ‘You need to work,’ she stated.
Nikki nodded, reached up and swept Ariana’s hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering, her thumb tracing the side of Ariana’s neck as she moved her hand away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
‘I have nothing Nikki,’ Ariana said. ‘The estate is Soph’s and my future. I have no job, no home, and no family.’
Nikki wiped at the tear that had slipped onto Ariana’s cheek, then held both her arms and squeezed. ‘When did you last take a break?’ she asked, upping the tempo in her voice.
Ariana released a chuckle through the tears. She couldn’t remember. She shrugged.
‘Exactly,’ Nikki said, with renewed enthusiasm. ‘So, why don’t you take a break for a few weeks, while you’re here?’ She could feel Ariana’s resistance to the idea through the increase in tension in her jaw. ‘You’re only waiting for a sale, the least you can do is chill out while you’re h
ere. Soph’s enjoying herself,’ she added, hoping to press home the point.
Ariana nodded, allowing a tiny smile to form at the edges of her mouth.
Nikki watched the corner of Ariana’s lips lift a little, and smiled. ‘Good, that’s settled then.’ Nikki’s eyes wandered to the increasing numbers around the bar. ‘I’d better go and help,’ she said.
Ariana glanced across at the party and smiled. ‘Yes, looks like it’s going to be busy.’
‘You going to have a glass of wine before or after we play volleyball?’ Nikki asked. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Ariana squirmed.
‘You and I are going to take on the girls,’ she added.
Ariana frowned.
‘Soph and Gianna,’ Nikki clarified.
Ariana laughed. ‘I haven’t played in years,’ she said.
Nikki shrugged and beamed a grin. ‘Who cares?’ she said, heading towards the bar.
7.
Ariana sat back on the driftwood seat feeling strangely lighter. She smiled to herself at the tingling warmth that lingered in her muscles, stifled a giggle at the sense of freedom that overwhelmed her. She felt like a child, and yet she felt more grown up than she ever had.
She wanted to shout out and tell everyone. It had been the first time she had talked openly about her life, except for the time she had spent with the therapist. Even though she hadn’t mentioned all the sordid details to Nikki; about catching her husband with the other women, her mother’s vicious verbal assaults on her, ordering her to stay married, threats of revealing how fucked up she was to Soph. She had shared her past with Nikki. And, for some strange and inexplicable reason, that mattered.
Maybe it was the way Nikki had stared at her with compassion, and a sense of shared pain as she bared her soul, and the display of protectiveness that Nikki had shown. Then there was the touch. She hadn’t remembered how good Nikki felt, her strength, and the heat from her body, amalgamating to form something quite intoxicating. For the first time in a very long time, she felt truly safe. Protected, cared for, loved even.
A small woman with long dark hair approached, singing, and held out a large glass of wine. ‘Thank you,’ Ariana said, her glance unhurried, observing the woman with curiosity.
‘Hi, I’m Chrissy. I work here. Nikki said I need to look after you,’ she said.
She must have been in her early thirties, Ariana thought. She looked happy, easy-going and had a warm, friendly smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly, suddenly wondering about the woman’s relationship to Nikki. The idea stirred something in her, something she couldn’t name.
‘Let me know if you need anything,’ Chrissy said. ‘Volleyball will be on all afternoon and the fire pit’s for food later. I can get you a snack if you’re hungry now,’ she offered.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Ariana replied, mirroring Chrissy’s smile.
She glanced over the woman’s shoulder, back to the bar. Nikki was laughing, pouring drinks, and chatting with the locals. It suited her; she looked younger than her thirty-six years and so full of life. Ariana sipped at the chilled drink and placed the glass on the flat rock. Maybe a break was a good idea? She could still get the house refurbished. It might even be fun, she mused, with a wry smile.
She sat back in the seat, slipped off her sandals and wriggled her feet into the sand. She groaned softly at the cold feeling against the balls of her hot feet and sipped at the wine. The soothing effect caused her mind to still, and her ears to tune into the ambience of the cove: the voices emanating from the bar, the low whooshing of the waves, and the intermittent buzzing of the insects busying in the bushes and shrubs that bordered the sand and rock. There was something very familiar about nature here. There had been birdsong in London of course, and the other cities to which she had travelled, but nothing quite like the incessant, rhythmical hum, and rustling that seemed to blend effortlessly with the aroma of the burnt salt from the slowly ripening olives, the delicate scent of fresh fish and the sweet smell of the wildflowers and herbs. She gazed at the shades of blue dancing on a wave of heat at the horizon. Drawing closer, the water shifted in colour from dark-blue to light blue and then to the softest green she had ever seen. It almost looked clear. Her eyes eventually found themselves staring at the house on the hill, and then the white foam forming on the gentle waves brushing against the rocks below and then back to the white house. She sighed. Even in its imperfect state, it still looked majestic.
*
‘Sea snails,’ Gianna said, pointing into the shallow water as they slowly edged their way around the slippery rocks.
‘You eat them?’ Soph scrunched up her face. ‘Yuk!’
‘Well, I mean, you can eat sea snails, but not these, they’re too small,’ she said, chuckling at Soph’s wide-eyed frown.
‘Look, is that a crab?’ Soph asked, pointing at the pincers on a small, shelled creature, wriggling its way quickly across the bottom of the rock-pool.
Gianna stared into the water. ‘Yes,’ she said, reaching in and pulling the tiny creature from its home, taking care not to squash it.
Soph jolted back, her foot slipping. She tried to correct her balance without putting her hand down but failed, making contact with barnacled shells firmly fixed to the rugged rocks. She squealed at the sharp contact and pulled her hand away. ‘Awww.’
Gianna laughed, reached out, and grabbed Soph by the arm. ‘They won’t bite,’ she said, maintaining a firm grip to support her and losing the tiny crab out of her other hand, back into the water. She took Soph’s hand and studied the grazed palm. Soph’s eyes had narrowed, and she puffed out a slow deep breath. Gianna stopped laughing. ‘You really scared?’ she asked, her voice soft, laced with concern.
Soph nodded, though Gianna’s touch was heightening the nerves initiated by the threat of being bitten, and adding something else. She held Gianna’s concerned gaze, willing for Gianna to keep her safe. Soph had tried hard not to be afraid of the things that might be lurking in the water, and while they had been in the deeper sea, swimming, and unable to touch the seabed, it hadn’t been too bad. But, as soon as her feet touched the surface of a rock or the sand under the water, no matter how shallow, she worried that the sea creatures were going to attack her. Her hands were shaking, and her legs had quickly taken on the consistency of jelly when she had made contact with the sharp shells.
‘Shall we go back?’ Gianna asked, tenderly caressing Soph’s injured hand.
Soph nodded. She couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort of Gianna’s hand in hers. But, when their fingers interlinked and the tingling sensations filtered down her spine, an altogether different feeling struck her.
Gianna slowly tracked her way back to the edge of the rocks, Soph following her every move, squeezing the life out of the supportive hand. ‘You okay to swim now?’ she asked, with a kind smile, encouraging Soph to let go so the blood could find its way back to her, now white, fingers.
‘Sure,’ Soph replied, instantly missing the reassuring touch.
Gianna smiled knowingly, turned and dived into the deep water. She emerged a few yards from the rocks. ‘Come on,’ she called. ‘Race you to the shore.’ She leant into the water and started to swim.
Soph grinned; her courage restored by the challenge, she dived into the water and swam with all her strength. By the time she reached the shallow water and stepped up the beach to where they had dropped their clothes Gianna had dressed. The water from her bathing suit was seeping through her shorts and t-shirt, causing the clothes to cling around the shape of her body. Soph shuddered, picked up her clothes and stepped into her deck shoes. ‘I’ll carry these,’ she said, her voice broken.
Gianna’s sparkling eyes deepened the smile on her lips. ‘Volleyball!’ she said.
Soph chuckled, that hadn’t been the thought occupying her mind. ‘Right,’ she said, following Gianna up the path towards the house.
‘I need to go home and get changed,’ Gianna said as they strolled. ‘I
can meet you at the beach.’
Soph didn’t need to eye her up for size. ‘I’ve got shorts and a top if you want?’ she offered.
Gianna didn’t need to think twice about the question. She had no desire to create any distance between them. ‘Okay,’ she said, trying to sound casual and feeling anything but. She had known from the time she set eyes on Sophie Carter-Cruz that there was something extraordinary about her, and the more time she spent with her, the more she learned about her, the more she liked; and the more she wanted. Descending the external steps to the ground floor, and Soph’s bedroom, her legs weakened by her lustful thoughts, her heart pounded, and her hands felt clammy.
‘I’m going to grab a shower,’ Soph said, searching the chest-of-drawers for clothes. She handed Gianna a pair of long cotton beach-shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. ‘These any good?’ she asked.
Gianna laughed out loud. She would never have expected Soph to wear shorts with pineapples and bananas printed on them. ‘Thanks,’ she said, with a hint of sarcasm. She grinned at the clothes in her hand, the sight instantly dampening the desire that had coursed through her body just moments ago.
Soph was laughing. ‘My grandmother gave them to me. I’ve never worn them,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
‘Hmmm,’ Gianna responded, staring at the pants. ‘Wonder why?’ she said, laughing hysterically. ‘They don’t even match,’ she added, holding the bright pink top up, against the orange tones in the shorts.
Soph doubled over with laughter, reached into the drawer, pulled out a white vest and threw it to Gianna. ‘There’s another shower next door,’ she said, indicating with her eyes to the right of the bedroom door. ‘You can leave your clothes in there too,’ she added, still fighting the giggles, locking onto Gianna’s wide-eyed happy face. She looked so pretty, and so, hot!
‘Thanks,’ Gianna nodded. Still chuckling, she exited the bedroom and entered the family bathroom.
Soph dived into the en-suite shower and dived out. Within five minutes she was washed and dressed, her scraggly, wet hair dripping down the back of her neck. She stepped into the corridor and didn’t have to wait long before the fresh scent of shower-gel, drifting down the short hallway, aroused her senses. ‘You smell great,’ Soph said before she could censor her thoughts.