Some folks sat on the open decks of their boats, but most were passing the evening tucked among the half-dozen or so restaurants that jutted up against the concrete wall that formed the perimeter of the harbor. There were also small shops, most of which were closed for the evening. Even with that, there were a good many people out for an evening walk or dinner.
Cole and Isabella walked the full length of the harbor before deciding on a restaurant a block in from the marina. She wore a pair of cotton shorts and a short-sleeve shirt with a loose v-cut across her chest. Led by the waitress to a picnic table by themselves, Cole let Isabella sit first, then sat beside her. She seemed a bit surprised at first, but then smiled when he nudged himself another inch or two closer to her. The side of his knee bumped up against hers, and she pressed back against him.
They were flirting. Cole had to remind himself to remain calm. They talked about each other and the places they’d been. Cole spoke of the things he’d seen since leaving the States last fall, and Isabella wanted to know more about America. She’d been there years before, but her study of the English language had left her wanting to know more about the people who spoke it.
She ordered for them both, and promised it would be something good. The waiter returned with two small glasses of rum with a lime and some cane sugar. Isabella Called it Ti Punch, a customary drink in Martinique. She mixed hers with the lime and some sugar before motioning for Cole to do the same. He did, and the two toasted to each other. It was strong but good and the waiter followed with glasses of water.
Isabella took the greatest interest in Cole’s explanation of the various accents in the United States. He knew he sounded like a fool, but she laughed and crinkled her nose each time he did an impersonation. When he got to the southern accent, he stayed there for some time and they had a second and third round of Ti Punch. By the time dinner came, Cole was relaxed around Isabella and she seemed to also be enjoying herself.
“You have not told me why you are here, Cole.”
Cole steadied himself and looked straight into Isabella’s eyes. A lie would be easy and he knew it. The way she looked at him was too much to cast her off like he’d done with other girls. He opted to ease her into the truth, and swore to himself that he would not hide anything from her if she truly wanted to know.
“I was driving boats over in Panama, and eventually just wanted some time away from it, so I caught a ride here.”
Isabella pressed further and asked, “But why Martinique?”
Cole shrugged. “Because this is where the first plane I found was going.”
She smiled at him and said, “You live very free, Cole.”
He paused for a moment or two. His conscience weighed heavy after the past year. He was not yet free. “I’d like to think so,” he said with a sigh.
He thought about her observation. “I was in the military for a while, before any of this.”
Isabella leaned in with her head, her face expressing disbelief. “I don’t believe you,” she said playfully.
“No, it’s true. I was. I was on a ship for two years and hated every minute of it. I was completely lost with my life. When they finally let me off, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think I’d ever want to be on the water again, and certainly not spend a year bouncing around from place to place. In a way, I’m still sort of lost.”
She turned a bit more towards Cole and patted the top of his hand twice with hers before resting her hand on his. “But here you are now, Cole,” she said and smiled at him.
He smiled back at her, not wanting her to pull her hand away. It was silent between them, but not as awkward as he’d feared. She pulled her hand away to take another bite from her plate and as she looked down, he admired her again before looking up at the waiter and holding up his empty Ti Punch glass.
Isabella put her fork down and pushed her plate a few inches forward. “I think I am full.” She turned her attention back to Cole.
They talked some more about Martinique and things to do. Isabella worked five days out of the week, and at different times of the day. She named off a few of the places she’d been to since she arrived and told Cole of one beautiful spot, Le Diamant, that was off to the south. Cole wondered how anything could be better than the views he’d already seen from his hotel, but Isabella seemed certain Le Diamant was even more of a sight.
The waiter arrived with two more drinks, and Isabella and Cole both stirred theirs and tipped glasses at each other before polishing off their last for the night. Cole paid the bill with his credit card from the Coast Guard severance. He hadn’t touched it since leaving Key West. He flashed back to Panama for a moment and blinked a few times to straighten his thoughts out.
Isabella put her hand on top of his again and all the confused thoughts of Panama vanished. They meandered again around the marina, talking as they went. Cole pointed out features of the boats that he liked or didn’t like, and Isabella asked about the differences between America and the Caribbean.
At the far side of the marina, they walked past another hotel that hugged the opposite jetty leading into the harbor. Tall trees lined the water and the jetty rose up a few feet above the dirt to separate the land from the sea. Isabella stepped up on a rock and Cole instinctively reached out and took her hand for balance. She walked along a few of them, hopping across one to another. Cole walked along with her, holding her hand and admiring her charm as she stepped out from one and onto another.
Finally she stepped down and exhaled as Cole turned to face her, his left hand still holding her right. They were further back away from the hotel now, alone among the evenly spaced trees.
Isabella said, “Let’s sit for a while.” She picked two adjacent rocks and sat down, tapping the other with her palm and motioning for Cole to sit beside her. The rock was warm from the day’s sunlight, but there was just enough breeze filtering through the channel to make the air comfortable. A flashing green buoy bobbed just beyond the jetty, marking one side of the channel to sailors coming in from the bay.
Cole looked for some time out into the darkness beyond the jetty and the buoy before Isabella rested her chin on his shoulder. Bits of her hair tickled his neck, and he looked back just to his left, straining his eyes to look into hers.
“You look serious, Cole,” she said with a little smirk on her face. Her teeth were white under the moonlight. “What are you thinking about to be so serious?”
She held her chin on his shoulder and he felt her arm come up against his lower back and partly around his waist. She was almost hugging him.
“I was just thinking about the ocean.” Cole wiped any hint of seriousness off his face and shifted his attention back to Isabella. He felt her chest against his side and the onset of butterflies kicked in once again.
“Did I tell you already that you’re pretty?” Cole looked for any reaction.
“Yes, you told me. I don’t mind you telling me again.” She lifted her chin off his shoulder but kept her arm around his waist.
Cole took a deep breath and pushed the butterflies back, looking out at the blackness beyond the channel. He was happy—immensely happy—to be sitting on that rock next to Isabella. Still, he looked down at the water inches from his feet and saw the tide moving in and out from the marina. The water, stirred by the stiff easterlies blowing outside, reminded him that the Caribbean would be there waiting whenever he decided to return.
“Should we walk some more?” Cole asked, and Isabella nodded.
He helped her back up, and as she dusted off her shorts, Cole couldn’t help but notice her legs and how they led up to slender hips that she brushed with her hands. When she turned and looked at him again, he was grinning.
They walked back around the marina as the night began to wind down for locals and visitors alike. Most boats had only one light on belowdecks as they sat tied up to the wooden slips that wrapped around the harbor. One or two of the restaurants had guests still at the bar, but the wai
ters and waitresses were busy wiping down tables and pushing in seats.
Cole asked about the hotel and how Isabella had liked it so far. She replied that she was enjoying her time in the Caribbean compared to France. The days were sometimes long, but they went by quick enough, and on days off she was free to do as she pleased. The hotel had a smaller set of apartments next to the Bakoua where she stayed for the summer. Cole walked her along a side street until she stopped in front of a gate.
It took Cole a second to realize it was her apartment. She rolled up on the balls of her feet for a second, then back down as if to say she wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Well, I should be going, then,” Cole said, facing Isabella and looking in her eyes.
“Thank you very much for dinner, Cole.” He could tell she was sincere when she said it, with her French accentuating certain syllables.
“When is your next day off?” Cole asked, reaching out and taking her right hand with the fingers of his left.
Isabella took hold of his and replied, “Tuesday, in two days.”
Cole smiled and asked, “Can I take you to Le Diamant?”
“Yes, but how? Do you have a car?”
Cole grinned again and said,”No, but for you I’ll get one.”
“I would like that.”
As she backed away, Cole held onto her hand, and she gripped tighter. Cole read the signal and gently pulled her back in, kissing her when their faces met. He brushed the palm of his right hand up against her neck, rubbed the pad of his thumb against her earlobe, and tucked a lock of her curly hair back behind her ear. He leaned in and held his left hand against the lowest part of her back, pulling himself closer. They kissed for some time before Cole pulled away, not wanting to push too far.
Isabella seemed embarrassed by her loss of modesty, but Cole kept the palm of his right hand against her neck again and ran his fingers through her hair, then kissed her one last time.
“Thank you for tonight, Isabella. I will see you Tuesday?”
She smiled back at him. “Yes, Tuesday. Le Diamant.”
With that, she unlocked the gate and walked inside. Cole doubled back down the side street then down the same single lane that led back to the beach and the hotel. He had not felt this good in months. If he never saw Panama again, it would be too soon.
Walking up the far steps towards his corner suite, Cole unlocked the door and walked into the air-conditioned dark room. Turning on one light by the bed, he pulled back the curtains and opened the sliding glass door to let in the breeze coming off the bay. Stepping out for a moment, Cole watched the moonlight reflect off the water below in the cove. The boats in the anchorage to his left hadn’t moved since that afternoon, and they bobbed gently against their moorings, their anchor lights swaying at the tops of their masts.
Cole heard a knock at the door. Unsure as to who was out this late, he walked back across the room and opened it to see Isabella standing there.
“Bonjour.”
Isabella laughed and replied, “At night, we say Bonsoir.”
Idiot, he thought. “Well, in that case, Bonsoir. How did you know which room was mine?”
“I do work here.”
Idiot, he thought again. Cole scolded himself for even asking. He took a deep breath and stepped aside to let Isabella in.
She walked partly in past the doorway and looked at Cole, suddenly a bit unsure of herself.
Cole let the door close behind them, smiled, and wrapped both his arms around the small of her back. Picking her up, Isabella wrapped both her legs around his waist, kissing his neck. Any doubt left her mind as Cole walked over to the bed and let her down on top of the comforter. She laid there looking up at Cole, with her dark curled hair a beautifully tangled mess against the white pillows. She smiled at him when he turned out the light, and Cole laid down beside her.
Chapter 13 – Buccaneer
DAYLIGHT WAS SNEAKING through the curtains when Cole opened his eyes. It was still early, but the sun had climbed up and over the peaks inland and to the east. The air conditioning hummed and the room was still dark save for a few random rays of dancing light. He was on his side, facing away from Isabella. Her right arm was draped across his torso, and her hand was flat against his collarbone. He rolled back towards Isabella and felt her warm body settle against his. She stirred and slid one leg closer to his under the blankets.
Cole ran his hand up and down hers and pulled it in tight against his chest. He didn’t dare move again, not wanting to wake Isabella and ruin the most peaceful rest he’d had in years. After a few minutes, he couldn’t resist and rolled over onto his right side to face her. Her arm was still across his chest, and she ran it under his left arm and pulled against his shoulder blade with the palm of her hand. She didn’t seem to notice the stitches or the thin scab as she pulled him in close. With the little light in the room, Cole could make out curls of hair covering her right eye. He reached over and brushed them aside to see a playful look on her face. She laughed and pulled her bare chest against his, rolling Cole onto his back.
Cole spoke first, barely able to contain a smile. “Bonjour.”
Isabella giggled again, this time softer, but with the same fervor. There was a warmth to her that Cole felt in his core.
“Bonjour, Cole.”
They kissed some more, and ran their hands back and forth against each other’s skin. After a few more minutes, Cole rolled over and reached for the phone. He dialed the service number and after a few rings, a woman’s voice spoke rapidly and in French.
“Room service?” Not yet entirely awake, Cole’s voice was grainy.
The woman continued and Cole sensed her frustration with his lack of French speaking skills.
“Coffee?” Cole held the phone away from his face after he said it and looked back to Isabella, who was holding her hand over her mouth and giggling. He passed the phone to her, but she shook her head and laughed more.
“How do I say coffee?” He whispered and was laughing now at himself as well.
“Cafe,” Isabella spoke quietly and laughed again.
“Two Cafe.”
Cole squinted his eyes, recognizing his mistake before it even left his lips. He looked back at Isabella who had rolled over on her back and was laughing even harder now, shaking her head. The woman on the other end of the phone continued to yell at Cole, but her insults didn't matter since he couldn't understand what she was saying.
“A little help?” He laughed again.
“Deux Cafe.”
Isabella pulled a pillow under her head and rolled back onto it, her eyes still staring intently at Cole.
“And crêpes!”
He remembered something in French. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted for breakfast, but in a moment of clarity he had to take it.
“Duh Cafe and crepes. Merci!” He hung up the phone. Maybe it would come; maybe it wouldn’t. He rolled back over to Isabella, pulling himself on top of her. She kissed him on his lips and ran her hands through his matted hair. Cole pulled at the sheet to clear it from between them. Tucking it behind him, there was nothing between him and Isabella. She ran her fingers across his back.
“Thanks for the help back there,” Cole said with a grin.
“They would recognize my voice. I would be in trouble. Besides, you did fine.” She reached her head up to kiss him, and he followed hers back down to the pillow. Cole shook his head in disbelief.
Rolling over and out of bed, Cole cinched up his board shorts and walked over to the curtains, pulling them open to see the sun already up and reflecting off the cove in front of his room. He squinted at first before his eyes caught up to the bright light. Turning around, he saw that Isabella had pulled the comforter up almost to her nose. All that remained above were her eyes looking directly at him and her dark hair tucked behind her head.
She pulled the comforter down to reveal her face, and she let out a forceful sigh. “I have to work today.�
�� She sighed again, rolling to her right and reaching down for some of her clothes.
Cole hurried over to the bed and crawled back in, reaching over her hip and up to her chest. He pulled himself tight against her and kissed her neck. “You’ll stay for breakfast, right?”
“If they hurry.”
She leaned back, and Cole pulled the comforter over both of them.
Twenty minutes later, Cole heard a knock at the door and got up to answer. Isabella reached down for her clothes and stood up to dress, smiling at Cole as he nearly tripped making his way to the door. He insisted on taking the tray at the door and repeatedly thanked the hotel worker before closing the door again. Setting it down on the bed, he lifted the lid off the tray to see a healthy pile of crêpes with fruit on the side.
“I didn’t do too badly.”
Isabella, now dressed, walked over and kissed him on the cheek before fixing herself a cup of coffee and picking a few pieces from the thin pancakes. Cole dropped some sugar in his coffee and motioned for Isabella to follow him. Picking up the plate and his coffee, he walked past the bed and over to the sliding door, nudging it open with the back of his hand, then walked out into the morning air and over to the covered balcony. Isabella followed and sat on a chair looking over the bay. Cole set the food down on the table next to her and sat in a chair on the other side of Isabella. She tucked one leg under her and swung the other gently back and forth, taking little sips and alternating her gaze from the cove in front of them to the anchorage off to the left. She picked again at her food and ate most of the fruit, lifting each piece of melon or strawberry one at a time with her fingers.
Caribbean's Keeper Page 21