Invisible Anna

by Coralie Moss

  She was meeting that man in Mexico. In four days.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday morning’s wake-up call at the hotel in Vancouver chirped at three-forty-five. Anna had showered and laid out her clothes the night before. All she had to do was dress and brush her teeth. She could make a more informed decision on lip gloss and mascara once she was at the airport and her vision was fully operational.

  The hotel’s shuttle waited in front of the revolving glass door, the driver insisted on hefting her suitcase into the back of the oversized van, and a cheerful airline employee steered her to the line for First Class passengers once she was at the international terminal.

  She really was going to Cabo San Lucas. At Daniel’s insistence, she was making the trip in comfort and style. She liked the wide seats in First Class, the hot face towels, and the fresh lemon slices in the water glasses. Breakfast was her first solid meal in two days.

  The subdued sounds of fellow passengers eating off china plates, with metal utensils, soothed her anxiety-driven impulse to pace the aisle. Anna tightened her seat belt and rested her elbow on the armrest next to her, letting her gaze move across the clouds toward the changing colors of the horizon.

  She turned fifty, and her life turned upended. Here, some thirty-odd thousand feet in the air, she could finally take a breath. Yes, she had taken a lot of breaths at the workshop and more breaths every time she was with Liam, but those inhales and exhales were bound by cages woven from silky ribbons of excitement and desire.

  These breaths, in the plane, were about her body claiming space needed by her emerging self. Not the melancholic or time-alone space she had in abundance. She chuckled at the butterfly image fluttering across her mental screen. Yes, she got why the image was a potent one, but she was inclined to avoid clichés.

  She let her mind wander amongst the clouds in search of another image or metaphor to describe what she was going through, musing all the way through a second demitasse of coffee and landing preparations.

  Moving through immigration and customs at the Los Cabos airport was hassle free. The agents smiled, stamped her passport, and waved her on. A driver from the resort held a printed sign with her name and those of two other couples. Her luggage was once again whisked from her hands. She paused before stepping into the air-conditioned SUV, welcomed the heat pouring off the concrete walkway, and donned her new sunglasses with their oversized frames.

  Daniel had texted his flight was delayed. He expected to arrive by dinner and suggested she settle into her room and explore the resort. Relief swept through her. The thought of him waiting to help her out of the van had been unnerving. She smiled at the realization—she and Daniel getting together in person was the theme of the trip, after all—and sank into the comfortable seat behind her driver.

  Cabo San Lucas consisted of resort after resort after resort. The one Daniel picked was at the end of a long beach, with the tall, broad shoulders of soaring cliffs guarding a smattering of creamy white buildings that clung to its base like a necklace of oversized pearls. The driver guided the SUV through a tunnel-like arcade and into the swooping curve of the entrance. Everything was open, with the clean lines that whispered expensive and exclusive and just-you-wait.

  And the greenery. So many artfully placed tropical plants. So many fragrant orchids.

  So many beautifully manicured guests.

  At the reception desk, the young Mexican woman checking her in smiled knowingly at the information coming up on her screen. “Ms. Granger, welcome to the resort.” She tucked two key cards into an envelope and handed it to Anna. “Mr. Strauss has reserved one of our corner suites for you,” she explained. “I hope you will enjoy the ocean views. Jorge has your luggage and is waiting for you by the elevators. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you, Marileña.” She didn’t recall giving her name to the receptionist, and her name wasn’t embroidered or tagged anywhere on her person. She pivoted to locate Jorge, when the young woman called her back and handed Anna’s passport across the counter.

  And that would have been Marileña’s first clue as to her identity.

  Jorge followed her off the elevator and opened the door to her room. He stepped away from the entrance and invited her to enter first. Anna stifled her surprise and continued to pretend luxury resorts were an everyday occurrence in her cosmopolitan life. She hoped the pesos she palmed were enough of a tip.

  “Ms. Granger, I will be your personal concierge for the duration of your stay.” Jorge’s smooth voice interrupted her fiscal calculations. She’d have to begin again. “I am here for you and Mr. Strauss twenty-four hours a day. If I may show you through your accommodations?”

  He gestured toward the far end of the room where a private plunge pool set the stage for a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean, the mountains that came right to the water, and crescents of sandy beaches. Next, he walked her through a bathroom, with yet more water views, spacious enough for a rainforest shower and a chaise lounge loaded with pillows.

  Back in the large room, he pointed out the spa menu and the bar and let her know he would deliver a light snack to the room within the hour. He also made it clear Daniel specified he would take care of all gratuities.

  “I will return with botanas and again at sunset to light your fireplace. Until then, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to call for me.”

  Anna thanked Jorge and sank onto the king-sized bed once the door clicked shut.

  Holy Guacamole.

  If this was going to be home for three nights, she should unpack and pretend she owned the place rather than be terrified the staff was laughing behind her back at her clunky leather sandals and deer-in-the-headlight expression.

  She slipped off her shoes and placed them in the closet. She opened her suitcase and took her time hanging the velvet and linen dresses Gigi and Neena had designed and made just for her. She tucked sets of lacy lingerie into one drawer and sets of loungewear into another and found a plush bathrobe waiting for her in the bathroom.

  Make that two bathrobes. One a heavy terry cloth, the other a lightweight basket weave that looked perfect for the beach. Or her private terrace and plunge pool.

  Anna removed her travel clothes, hung them in the closet away from her resort wear, and walked to her private pool. She spread a towel near the edge, put on her new bathing suit, and lowered herself into the water. Refreshing. Soothing. She rested her elbows on the front edge and surveyed the vista below. A few clouds hung at the horizon, and large sea birds made lazy circles over the blue-green water.

  A light tapping sounded at her door, followed by Jorge wheeling in a cart with the promised afternoon repast.

  “Would you care for a limonada?” he asked, averting his eyes while draping a small towel around a hand-blown glass pitcher the same shade of Pacific blue used throughout the resort.

  She pressed her body against the interior wall of the small pool. “Yes, please.”

  He focused on mixing and pouring the Mexican version of lemonade, made with fresh-sliced limes, sugar syrup, and mineral water.

  “Anything to eat?” He lifted bowls of guacamole and chips for her approval. Anna nodded. Her personal server fixed a small plate, added it to a tray, and presented it as though guests enjoying an afternoon in-room plunge was an everyday occurrence at the resort.

  Which, actually, it was. Every day, every hour, round the clock.

  “Buen provecho.” He grinned and gave a curt bow. He placed the tray by the edge of the pool and draped the bathrobe he’d grabbed over a nearby rattan chair.

  “Gracias,” she responded. She’d practiced a few basics and hoped her first word in Spanish was understandable.

  “Por nada,” he said, smiling in surprise. “I will return at four to light your fire.”

  Anna stifled the urge to giggle. Well, if the chemistry between her and Daniel fizzled, there was always Jorge and his fire-lighting skills. Without noticing when it happened, she realized she wasn’t nervous anymore
. At least, not in this moment.

  She was floating in her private pool, licking the world’s creamiest guacamole off her fingertips, and who knew something as simple as a drink made from mineral water and fresh squeezed limes could taste so damn good. The gorgeous setting injected its influence into the waves of pleasure lapping at her floating limbs.

  Anna left her pool experience before she wrinkled beyond recovery and wrapped herself in the plush robe. She perused the toiletry offerings, uncapping the shampoo and lotion and reveling in the tropical scents. Another text had come in from Daniel. He’d be at the hotel by five and hoped to join her for a beach walk before they were seated for their dinner reservation.

  After applying sunscreen, Anna put on a fresh set of underthings and pulled her new linen dress over her head. She wanted to scope out the resort before Daniel arrived and see if she could procure a more stylish pair of sandals. The pedicure she’d gotten in Vancouver the day before begged to be shown off.

  Before leaving her room, she stepped onto the balcony. The sun streamed onto her head, warming her scalp, while the breeze lifted the hem of her dress and caressed her ankles.

  She wondered what Liam was doing.

  After shopping and a long walk down the beach and back, Anna found a spot where she could watch the water and keep tabs on the main walkway into the resort. Her already erratic heartbeat pounded in her ears when Daniel stepped onto the beach, walked away from her perch and headed toward a woman perched on blanket. He paused, they spoke, and he stepped back. She read his body language. Curiosity. Eagerness. Disappointment. Frustration. He continued to shade his eyes and search the beach, his back to her.

  Taking a deep breath and willing her heart to relax already, because she really wanted to live through the coming moments, she pushed herself off the chaise lounge, hooked her fingers through the straps of her new, bejeweled sandals, and sank her feet into the sand on her way to meet her past.

  Daniel didn’t let on whether he was aware of the fine crunching sound of feet coming closer. She had to touch him. When she did, catching his shirt at the back of his waist, she was the first to cross the threshold she knew they both had been anticipating from opposite ends of the continent.

  Her former flame tilted his head, closed his eyes, and smiled. Reaching behind, he found Anna’s hand and slid his fingers between hers.

  “Hi,” she said. “Looking for a dinner date?” Her heart was back to its loud, insistent pounding. It threatened to make a hole in her chest, reach through, and grab hold of Daniel’s arm so she could spin him around to face her.

  The front of his body remained facing the ocean. His eyes stayed closed, his smile deepened. “As a matter of fact, yes,” he said. “Are you available?”

  “Available and famished.” She pressed her face against his upper arm, giggling, nervous, and waited for Daniel to look at her. She was pleased with how he’d dressed—casual, elegant—and how his body felt against her right side. She wanted him to be pleased too, with how she looked and felt, all the effort she’d put in to this reunion.

  A string of lights powered by hope lit up her heart.

  “You made it,” she whispered, as a voice in her head, maybe Liam’s, maybe Gaia’s, reminded her to breathe out. She followed the advice.

  Daniel turned, bringing his chest to face hers. “I did. Do you like your room?”

  “It’s beautiful. This whole place is beautiful.”

  I’m beautiful too.

  “Would you like to take a walk, or have a drink, or go right into dinner?”

  Anna gave the slightest tug, felt her need register in Daniel’s body. He finished turning and opened his eyes, giving her everything she was asking for in that moment, which was, simply, something solid for her frantic heart to beat against.

  She untangled their fingers and slipped both arms around his waist, sighing when he followed her lead and drew her head to rest against his chest.

  “Annalissa. I have no idea how to act. I know how to buy plane tickets and make hotel reservations, but I have no idea how to do this.”

  Thump, thump, thump. He wasn’t lying. He was every bit as nervous.

  “I don’t either,” she said. She looked at him, alternating flashes of fear and optimism and desire with every waver and blink of her eyes. “Let’s walk on the beach before it gets too dark.”

  He took her free hand, curling his fingers into hers. They strolled along the shore where the sand was packed firm by retreating waves. Whites and pinks flashed in the waning sunlight. Anna stooped to gather bits and pieces of sea glass and tropical shells, dropping most of them after a few steps. She straightened when she caught Daniel staring at her, a smile on his face, a genuine, face-splitting grin.

  “We did it. We’re here.” He let go of her hand, wrapped his arms around her again, tighter this time, and nuzzled the top of her head. “Pinch me.”

  Anna inhaled the scent of his shirt, with its faint hint of cologne and professional pressing. Underneath all that, she smelled him, the Daniel of memory.

  “It’s a big deal, for both of us.” Her arms circled his waist, the rapid beating of his heart reaching out to hers. “I think I went into shock when you first wrote to me,” she admitted. “I have all these incredibly strong memories from when we were dating…” She tilted her face so she could see him. “Were we dating? Or were we just friends with benefits before that was even a thing?”

  “We were more than that, Annalissa.” Daniel smiled and pressed her to his chest. He reached into the side pocket of his pants and closed his hand around something he was carrying.

  “I put most of the memories of whatever we were into deep storage before I got married. It was exciting and painful to hear from you.”

  He used one finger to brush some of the hair away from her eyes. His other fingers stayed curled around his palm. “I didn’t ever mean to cause you pain, but after we started to email, I realized I had a lot invested in finding you. Look.”

  Daniel unfurled his fingers and showed her what he’d extricated from his pocket. She sucked in a sharp breath and reached to touch a small carving, one of a set she’d given him before he graduated. She’d made at least six similarly-shaped carvings from leftover pieces of stone. The swish of the water breaking over her feet mimicked the sound of the special sandpaper she’d use to rub out the ridges left by the carving tools.

  Anna stroked the smooth soapstone, its surface warmed by his body heat. Recalled the feel of the hardened metal tools in her hands as they bit at the stone as she tapped and filed, the rising sensation of wonder at the varied veins of color in each block, and how her persistence found hidden curves and planes.

  She could do this again. She could find the inspiration rooted in her island. And she could certainly find the time. Time was one thing she had in abundance.

  “I can’t believe you kept this,” she said. “Did you keep the others?”

  He nodded. “They’ve been sitting in a bowl on my desk ever since…ever since I first set up my business.”

  Her gaze darted up to meet his. “Are you ready to talk about why you kept these?”

  Daniel pocketed the carving and turned to look out over the water before fixing his gaze to her face. “I’m ready for some real Mexican food.”

  She could eat. But what she really wanted was to feast on words. To pass words and sentences back and forth, to feed each other memories seasoned by time, tears, and laughter. She tightened her grip on his waist. They had a couple of days. She couldn’t expect everything to come undone, to be revealed, in their first twenty minutes together.

  They took their time walking back to the resort. The top coating of sand cooled after the sunset, but layers underneath held remnants of the day’s heat. Anna luxuriated in the sensation of cool and warm slipping between her toes and along the bottoms of her feet. Having Daniel’s body next to hers blocked the chilly air coming off the water.

  “Do you want to change before we eat?” Touching her e
lbow, he guided her onto the curving walkway in front of the restaurant’s outdoor seating area.

  “No, but I could use another layer.”

  Daniel signaled the maitre’d they were ready to be seated and asked the man to bring over two shawls from the stack behind the man’s station. “Would you like to share a bottle of wine? They have a decent selection from vineyards in the area.”

  “I had no idea Mexico produced wines. I’d love to try one.”

  He held a hushed discussion over the wine list with the sommelier before glancing across the table at her. “I imagine we’re going with seafood?”

  Anna nodded. The wine steward glided away from their table to retrieve the agreed upon bottle.

  “The man who’s been seeing to my every need since I arrived recommended the ceviche,” she offered. “Jorge’s been right about everything else, so far.”

  “Should I be jealous of this Jorge?” Daniel asked, grinning as he leaned across the table and brushed a thumb over her cheek. “I hope you’ll allow me to see to your needs as well.”

  “Flying me here was a very good start.”

  The wine arrived with a flourish. Daniel paid proper attention to the ritual of opening and tasting the wine, and Anna allowed herself to be swept up in the elegant interplay between server and client. Candlelight played over their wine glasses as he filled both before stepping away from the table. Daniel lifted his glass to her and waited. One more veil slid away from his gaze. She could see more, but for now, she sensed he was more comfortable choreographing their wine and food choices.

  When she took her first sip of the light gold-colored wine, her taste buds registered their pleasure. “This is lovely. I swear I can taste the Mexican sun.”

  Daniel nodded in agreement as he swished his first sip through his mouth. “Shall we order?”

  Their conversation stayed light throughout the appetizer and main course. Anna begged off dessert but succumbed to sweet temptation when Daniel held up a spoonful of flan and slid the cool surface over her lower lip. “You have to try this. There’s a hint of passion fruit in the sauce. I think you’ll like it.”