3 Weeks 'Til Forever

by Yuwanda Black

  The tropical breeze danced over her skin, cooling it perfectly from the hotness of the sun. Even though she travelled thousands of miles per year and had frolicked on some of the most beautiful beaches in the world, Sol y Besos was her favorite.

  The sand was soft – it felt like powder under your feet.

  The water was a painter’s palette of blues and greens – turquoise in some spots, baby blue in others, navy in certain depths and emerald green in yet others. And the warmth – it felt like bath water.

  You never had to shiver, shake or squeal to ease yourself in.

  You just immersed – and enjoyed.

  Chapter 4: The Sighting

  After a quick dip in the sea, Janey grabbed her wallet and headed to the bar. A sangria was just what the doctor ordered. As she waited for the bartender to mix the tropical delight, she spotted a trio of men entering the bar.

  One locked eyes with her immediately and wouldn’t let go. He extended his hand to the bartender, doing what looked like a ritual handshake that signaled they’d been friends for years.

  All the while, his deep-set eyes held hers in a Cobra-like stare; they just wouldn’t let go.

  Standing there in nothing but her light-blue bikini, Janey felt exposed in more ways than one.

  A marathon runner, she was physically fit and quite comfortable with her body. It was the way he looked at her that made her feel so exposed – as if he knew her secret places and had already explored them.

  Shaking off this feeling of intimacy emanating from a complete stranger, she quickly paid the bartender, grabbed her drink and headed back to her beach chair. Janey felt his eyes on her the entire way.

  As the cool, fruity liquid traversed her parched throat, she started to relax again – even though the image of the tall, dark stranger stayed with her. Surprised at this, she pushed thoughts of him firmly from her mind as she settled back down with her Kindle to resume her novel.

  Adjusting herself on the beach lounger, a smile of contentment caused the corners of her full lips to turn up as she thought about a comment the main character in her novel made. At this precise moment, a shadow blocked the warming rays of the sun.

  She looked up to see the cause and there he stood – the dark, broad stranger from the bar.

  Chapter 5: The Meeting

  Extending a large hand, he said, “Good afternoon, I’m Redmond. What’s your name?”

  She couldn’t fault him for his manners, even if he was a bit forward. Deciding to see how far he was willing to take his boldness, Janey responded, “JC.”

  “JC?”

  “No mother would name her daughter that; especially one as beautiful as you. What does JC stand for?”

  Janey was struck by how insightful he was. It reminded her of her father’s ability to size people and situations up quickly. Holding her head back a little further to look up at him, she said, “Janey Coltrane.”

  “Just Janey Coltrane?” he questioned. “If you’d been a male child, I would believe you were given such a short, succinct name, but ‘just’ Janey Coltrane doesn’t quite fit. Will you please tell me your full birth name?”

  Damn he was bold – and insightful – she couldn’t help but think.

  “As it seems I’m being interrogated Mr. ahh ‘Redmond,’ can you first tell me what goes with Redmond. Is that a first name, surname, middle name or nickname? Is it even your real name?”

  “I am Redmond Charleston Hillyard,” he declared, rather than stated, like a man who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted at all times.

  In the face of such directness, Janey couldn’t help but answer his question in kind, so she responded, “If you must know, my full name is Janey Belle Coltrane.”

  “I’m actually not fond of my middle name and my first name sounds too much like the moniker a 12-year-old girl would have, so ever since I can remember, when asked my name, I just say JC.”

  “I can count on one hand the number of people who’ve ever questioned me about it. And only my parents ever got away with calling me anything else. My mom called me Janey Belle and my dad always called me by just my first name.”

  Stopping herself, because she had a tendency to prattle on when she was nervous, Janey wasn’t sure why she was nervous or why she’d revealed such personal information – even though it was harmless – to a complete stranger.

  It was unlike her because she tended to be guarded until she got to know someone really well.

  Looking into her sun-glass covered eyes, Redmond said, “I’m going to call you Janey. JC sounds too masculine for such a tiny, beautiful woman.”

  It didn’t escape Janey that he hadn’t asked, but stated as fact, that that was how he would refer to her. Usually, she would never have allowed this but somehow, she couldn’t imagine him calling her JC any more than he obviously wasn’t going to.

  “Do you mind if I sit down beside you Janey?” he asked, testing her name to see how it sounded when he said it.

  She was thrown off by how direct and assertive he could be at one moment, then polite and almost unsure at others.

  Pulling her beach wrap tightly around her, she simply said, “Sure.”

  Janey hated talking to people with their sunglasses on; she was direct and liked that eye-to-eye connection. Somehow though, she wasn’t ready to be direct with this man so she left them on.

  He looked at her as if to say, I know why you’re not taking those off, even though they were at the beach and the sun was shining and she had every legitimate reason to keep them on.

  Redmond lowered his length onto the padded beach lounger, but he didn’t lay back, as Janey was doing. He positioned himself on the end so he could sit and take in her full frame at a glance.

  Seeing him sitting in this position, she wasn’t sure why she’d allowed him to interrupt her beach time. He seemed almost threatening, like a lion waiting to pounce. But she wasn’t afraid – at least not of his physical presence.

  She was disturbed by the attraction she had for him. It had been a long time since any man had captured her attention. Since her mother’s death three years ago, she’d focused all her attention on her business.

  And even though her best friend Carita had told her she shouldn’t be wasting her ‘pretty years,’ she just couldn’t stomach the complications that came with a relationship.

  “So what brings you to my island?” Redmond broke through her self-reflective reverie.

  “Actually, work – and to get in some R and R.”

  “R and R?” Redmond questioned.

  “Rest and relaxation,” Janey explained.

  “In my culture, when one wants rest and relaxation, the natural place for it is home. Sol y Besos is obviously not your home, so why do you have to go away to get some ‘R and R?’” as you say?”

  “You’re right, obviously your beautiful island is not my home. I live in New York City, a very crowded, noisy concrete jungle, as we natives call it. I love it with every fiber of my being and can’t imagine living any place else, but it’s not the most relaxing city in the world.”

  “For my work, I travel a lot, so when I really want to unplug, I always come back to this paradise. That’s how I think of Sol y Besos.”

  “Thank you for speaking so kindly about my island. I’m glad you find it to be a refuge, even from the home you obviously love so much.”

  She liked the way he referred to his homeland as ‘my island;’ it appealed to the ‘I’m connected to and proud of my culture’ part of her conscious.

  “What is this work that brings you here?” Redmond asked.

  Janey gave Redmond a rundown of her business, told him how and why she started it and some funny anecdotes from some of the places she’d been.

  There’d been the snake in the hut in the jungle in Brazil; the ice storm she’d been stuck in in Reykjavík, Iceland; and the bicycle accident in Amsterdam that left her on crutches for a month.

  Janey had a way of telling stories that made her friends lau
gh until their sides hurt. Apparently, she had the same effect on Redmond because his husky laugh showed his beautiful white teeth a lot that afternoon.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you’d been all over the world. I doubt if I could find half the places you’ve mentioned on a map.”

  “Travel has been the love of my life since I was a child. I never dreamed that I would do so much of it.”

  “The love of your life? Shouldn’t a man hold that title? Who is the love in your life in the form of a man Janey?”

  “You Mr. Hillyard ask too many questions. I’ve had a lovely afternoon and now, I must get some work done.”

  “Thank you for answering my question and you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

  Forehead wrinkling, Janey responded, “But I didn’t answer your question,” and turned to gather her belongings from her lounger.

  Redmond reached down to grab her beach bag to hold it open for her to put her belongings in, observing, “Ah, but you did. Any woman going to work after spending time alone on a beach with another man has no man – at least no man worth having.”

  “If you were my woman, not only would you not have been sitting on this beach alone, you definitely would not be going to work after you had been alone for a few hours.”

  “I’d have other plans for you.”

  Chapter 6: Coincidences

  As Janey pulled her thick, wet hair into a curly pony tail on top of her head, she reflected on what Redmond had said as she left him on the beach a few hours earlier ...

  If you were my woman, not only would you not have been sitting on this beach alone . . . I’d have other plans for you.

  She relished the phrase ‘my woman’ and blushed as she thought of what those plans might include.

  “Janey Belle Coltrane, this stranger is taking up too much space in your head. Get it together girl!” she admonished herself in the mirror as she prepared for her solo dinner out that night.

  Eating out alone was not foreign to her at all, considering she was often in places where she knew no one, so had no choice but to eat alone. She used to hate this aspect of her business, but since her mom died, she’d come to not only enjoy it, but look forward to it.

  She used the time constructively, often reflecting on what was important to her like what had brought her to this point, what she really wanted out of life and how to be happy alone.

  This last thought was one she spent a lot of time on at dinner because she spent a lot of time observing people during her solo meals, and what she saw was a lot of unhappy couples.

  Janey was surprised – once she started to really pay attention – at just how much you could tell about a couple by how they interacted with each other over a dinner table.

  For example, did the couple actually speak to each other?

  Did they spontaneously touch each other over a meal?

  Were their eyes constantly darting, only partially giving their mate their full attention?

  Did he hold the chair out for her when she sat down and/or, would he get up when she left the table?

  Did she acknowledge the gesture if he did?

  Did they eat off each other’s plates?

  Did they laugh and smile a lot (at all) during the 45 minutes to an hour most dinners between couples lasted?

  Janey had a degree in Sociology and had always been a keen observer of people. She noticed every little thing and was amazed at how many unhappy couples there were in this world.

  An only child, she’d mastered the art of being alone. She quite enjoyed her own company and after her boyfriend and her best friend’s betrayal, and her mother’s death, she started to feel that she might indeed wind up this way – even though it was the last thing she wanted.

  But she vowed that she’d rather be alone than be stuck in an unhappy relationship. She never wanted to be one of those couples she saw frequently during her solo dinners – those who barely spoke to each other and looked miserable.

  If that was what coupledom was, she decided she could skip it.

  . . .

  As Janey breezed out the foyer of the dimly lit restaurant, she looked for a passing cab. One stopped and she hopped in, requesting “Mirabella Bay please.”

  The driver responded, “As you wish miss.”

  Even though she’d just heard it for the first time that afternoon, Janey would recognize that voice anywhere.

  “Redmond?” she inquired.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “You’re a cab driver?”

  “I drive my own cab, yes.”

  “Oh,” was all she could think to say as she plopped back against the slightly worn leather seat of his van.

  “I was just about to go off duty when I saw this vision in red coming out of Nikodimo’s.”

  “I knew it was you and couldn’t help but stop. As you’re my last fare of the night, let me take you for a night cap. I know a nice little place that plays some mean zydeco on Thursday nights.”

  When he said “zydeco,” Janey’s ears perked up. She hadn’t heard it regularly since her college days waiting tables in New York, when – coincidentally – the well-known Zydeco group, Loup Garou – played regularly on Thursday nights.

  She loved those Thursday nights, not only because the music was slammin’, but because she knew she was going to be walking with at least $200 in tips. That’s how popular the group was; they packed the house – and her pockets.

  She wondered if they’d have the entire setup. Most Zydeco bands have an accordion, a frottoir, which is a modified washboard; an electric guitar; bass; and drums. Some also have secondary instruments like the fiddle, a keyboard and some horns.

  Janey hadn’t realized that she’d voiced this thought aloud when Redmond said, “Yes, they do. It’s a popular band that plays all over the Caribbean and they happen to be in town this week. I know the owner of the spot where they’re playing their current gig. You up for it?”

  Smiling widely, Janey replied, “You bet!”

  At that, Redmond pulled over to the curb and told her to join him in the front, saying, “I’m off duty; I don’t want to feel like your cab driver this evening, although I will safely taxi you back to your hotel after.”

  Redmond had a way of stating things rather than asking, so she did as he wanted and within the next 20 minutes, they were seated comfortably at the front of the little club – perfectly situated to see every aspect of the show.

  Janey ordered a Jack Daniels neat. Redmond raised his eyebrows at that; respecting a woman who could order a ‘man’s drink’ so comfortably, yet still look so darned feminine.

  This woman was a bundle of inconsistencies and she was getting under his skin; he’d never met anyone quite like her.

  He ordered a beer and before they had a chance to engage in any small talk, the music started. For the next hour, Janey was transported back to her early 20’s in New York.

  It was impossible to sit still when you listened to zydeco; you just couldn’t.

  First a little finger snapping, then a little toe tapping, then a full shoulder shake – and before she knew it, Redmond had pulled her onto the dance floor where they spent most of the evening.

  The man could move! was all she could think.

  Always confident in her dance skills, she kept pace with him – and then some. They moved beautifully together – even when their bodies weren’t touching. They were in sync, knowing when to sway together, when to turn away from and when to turn into each other.

  She loved the way his hands felt around her waist, on her shoulders and on her hands as they touched throughout their time on the dance floor. It felt so right, so natural.

  Janey couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun with a man.

  As the cooler tropical breeze hit her sweat-sheened skin when they exited the club, Redmond noticed her slight shiver and said, “Wait just inside, I’ll bring the van around. You can never be too careful with the change in temperature. It’s e
asy to get sick if you’re not used to this climate, even though it’s tropical.”

  Janey was touched by his concern. She rarely got sick, but didn’t say anything other than “Ok” to his request that she wait inside the foyer.

  It was just past midnight as Redmond pulled up to her hotel. Stopping at the lit entrance, he got out and walked around to her side of the van, but instead of opening her door to let her out, he propped himself against it.

  Redmond stared at her and said, “What would you say if I told you that it’s going to cost you a kiss to get out of this vehicle?”