Tropical Storm

by Stefanie Graham

  In her room, the manila folder lay on the center of the table. Storm caressed the folds of the document and flicked the cover open. There in black and white was an eight-by-ten photograph of her then husband Cairo Kane. In the photo, he was a mere twenty years old. The man downstairs had left this smiling youth far behind. Included with the photo was a thirty-page write-up about the man she had crossed an ocean to find. From the moment she got the document in her hands, she only had time to read the first three pages before she had packed her and Shane’s bags and jumped on the first plane out. The folder had taken almost seven years and thousands of dollars in expenses to compile. She remembered the day she had summoned enough courage to walk into the private investigating office as if it were yesterday.

  In an attempt to get what they wanted, her parents had cut her off financially. She’d been forced to fend for herself. With her trust fund unavailable to her until she turned twenty-one, she’d gone to school on aid, raised a growing baby and struggled to make ends meet by waitressing. All her tips and left over income she’d used to find Cairo. By then he’d vanished from her life for more than a year and she remembered those months as the most desperate times of her life. In her hand was everything she wanted and needed to know about Cairo, but when she first received the file all she cared about was where he was and how fast she could get there. It was obvious that she should have done better planning. But even now when she was desperately in need of any insight into his character and the man that he’d become, she couldn’t bring herself to read any more of the document. She didn’t want to know how he had lived the past six years without her. She didn’t want to know about any women in his life, any heartbreak, any rise and falls or any successes or failures. He had come to Jamaica to get away from her. He managed a hotel and deep down whether he knew it or not, he was still in love with her. This was all she wanted to know. Storm gathered up the thick document and dropped it into the desk drawer.

  Chapter Four

  “Mommy, I’m going to the kiddy program?” Shane was already in the process of lacing up his shoes.

  Storm placed her hands on her hips and waited. After a minute of silence her son finally looked up. When he saw the look in her eyes, he tried again. “Mommy, the hotel has a KP program for kids where they do water sports, activities and games. Can I go?”

  “That’s better.” Storm said dropping her hands to her sides. “Is this kiddy program properly supervised?” She raised a brow with this question knowing full well just how much trouble her son could get into if left to his own devices.

  Shane skipped across the room and threw his hands around her waist. Then he pulled her face down to his and gave her a loud kiss on the lips.

  “KP has four people from the hotel who are in charge of taking care of all the kids. Can I go?” He asked again.

  Storm frowned. “I don’t know.” She said, pretending to mull over the decision. “I need you here to help me with our plan? How will I do it without you?”

  Shane started bouncing on his toes, half with excitement and half with impatience. “I’ll be back in time to help, I promise. I’ll play with the kids in KP. Why don’t you go play with Cairo?” His eyes brightened with the suggestion.

  “That’s a great idea, munchkin.” She tapped his nose with a fingertip. “I plan to play with him later this evening. For now, why don’t I drop you off at KP.”

  The minute Storm delivered her son into the capable hands of the hotel staff; she rushed back upstairs with another hotel employee running to keep up with her. The woman was breathing heavily from exertion when Storm sat down in front of the vanity.

  “Okay Inez, I want the works: candlelight, champagne and soft music. I want it all. I’m planning a seduction and nothing can stand in my way. Money is no object; just make sure everything is as planned.” Storm could barely sit still in her chair as she gave the instructions. She was more than a little excited about putting her plan for winning her husband back into action. “I also want to reserve the private side of the beach for two hours.”

  Inez furrowed her brow. “That could be a problem. Someone might have reserved it already.”

  “Whatever it costs to bribe the current holders of the reservation, do it. Tonight is a very special night.”

  Inez nodded her approval and her eyes brightened with excitement. “Is that all, Ma’am?” She asked her pen poised over the pad.

  “Yes . . . No.” Storm said. “If it isn’t too much trouble could you also see that Tyrone Ebanks gets this letter?” She scribbled furiously on a piece of paper and signed it with a flourish.

  Inez took the paper with glee. “I will take it to him personally. If there is anything else you require, let me know. Mr. Kane said to make sure to fulfill all your needs.”

  Storm winked at the woman through her reflection in the mirror. “Inez, that’s nice, but only one person can fulfill my needs.”

  Inez’s smile stretched across her face. She left the room humming.

  As soon as she was gone Storm threw herself into preparation. Off came the now creased white dress. She then sailed her shoes across the room before looking back at her reflection in the mirror. She had a lot of work to do. Her hair was in shambles and her face was shiny because of the humidity. She hardly knew what to tackle first. In the end, she reached for the brush. She had to deal with her hair; if she remembered correctly, it was Cairo’s favorite.

  By the time she was finished preparing herself for the evening, Storm’s heart was slamming against her ribs. She was as nervous as a bride, and with good reason. The campaign to disrupt Cairo’s life was about to start. She was ready to wage war. She had brought her arsenal: the filmy vintage Christian Dior white chiffon dress that enhanced her already seductive figure, her unruly hair now coerced and confined into a neat chignon, her dainty slippers that exposed well-shaped ankles and her Chanel perfume. Storm dabbed a few extra drops on her shoulders. Cairo liked the scent. Armed and ready, Storm waited for her secret weapon. He came just as she was finishing.

  “Shane darling, I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

  Shane laughed at this. “C’mon, mommy.” He said swatting her playfully. “I promised to be back in time to help you with the plan. Plus, I’ve been playing for a long time and it’s almost my bedtime.”

  Storm glanced at the mantle. “Yup, you’re right on-time. I knew I could count on you, but I thought that you loved Jamaica and your new friends so much that you had forgotten all about me.”

  “I can’t forget you, mommy. I have to get Cairo for you remember?” Shane was a full and willing participant in their scheme.

  “Yes, I remember. Look at me darling,” Storm said indicating her outfit. “Do I look like I’ve forgotten?”

  Shane’s response was to grin. “I’ll go get Cairo.”

  Storm nodded and then absently smoothed down her dress with shaking hands.

  At the door, Shane stopped to look at her. “You’ll get him to be my daddy, won’t you mommy?”

  Storm saw the apprehension in his face and said with more bravado than she felt, “Don’t worry munchkin, I promised you a daddy and you’re gonna get one.”

  “Come on Shane; take your hands off my eyes. How do you expect me to see?” Cairo protested placing his feet carefully in the sand.

  “You don’t have to see,” Shane said firmly. “Just keep walking and don’t drop me.”

  Cairo sighed in exasperation. “Okay, you’re the boss, but if you go flying headlong into the sand don’t go crying to your mother.” He warned.

  “My son never cries.” Storm said.

  “Surprise!” Shane yelled removing his hands from Cairo’s eyes.

  Despite his promise, Cairo almost dropped him. Wisely, Shane wiggled down from his embrace. His job done, the child turned and dashed away toward the waiting nanny.

 
Cairo stared disbelievingly at the sight in front of him for several long moments. On the deserted beach, Storm stood in front of him. Around her bottle torches flickered against the twilight of the evening sky. There was a beautifully set table loaded with delicious local food, and soft music drifting across the beach. Jessica stood against this magnificence resplendent in a white dress that revealed far more than it concealed. In her hand, she held a rose.

  “This is for you, Cairo.” She handed him the flower. “One should always bring their date flowers.”

  Cairo wrapped his fist around the stem of the rose.

  They were both silent as they stood in front of each other. Storm chewed her bottom lip and twisted the hem of her dress in her hands. She then pointed to the table.

  “Come sit down. I was told these are you favorite Jamaican dishes: jerk chicken, rice and peas, steamed fish stuffed with okra, potato salad and fried plantain.”

  The way his mouth watered, Cairo hated to refuse, but refuse he would. He had no intention of accepting anything from Storm.

  “You obviously went to a lot of trouble, but I can’t stay.” He turned to leave but Storm grasped him by the shoulder and pushed him into a chair.

  “Sorry Mr. Kane,” she said forcefully. “But you sir, aren’t going anywhere.”

  Cairo shook his head. “I have a hotel to run; I can’t stay and play house with you.”

  In response to this, Storm sat down on his lap. “Don’t worry about the hotel, I left Tyrone in charge.”

  “You did what!” Cairo yelled, not quite sure he’d heard her correctly.

  Unfazed Storm arched a delicate brow. “I said I left Tyrone in charge. I had a letter delivered to him apprising him of your whereabouts. Anything that needs to be done in your absence, Tyrone will take care of it.”

  “You had no right!” Cairo objected.

  “True.” Storm said smiling. “But when has that stopped me? Now stop bickering and eat. You know you want to.”

  Cairo did. He really did. But accepting even the smallest morsel from her would be consenting to a lot more. Storm never did things by half measures.

  Cairo watched the food for an agonized moment before Storm took the decision out of his hands.

  “Here taste this.” She popped a piece of fried plantain into his mouth.

  Cairo had no choice but to chew and when he did, he was lost. He could never refuse a delicious meal. Storm knew this. She plied him with tempting morsels until he was full. When he was replete from food, she then proceeded to make a tempting meal out of herself.

  Leaning over him, she rested his head against her heart. “I can see why you love it here Cairo.” She said softly. “There isn’t a more beautiful island in the world.”

  Nuzzled up against her body, all Cairo could do was nod.

  “New York City can hardly compare to this island paradise, can it, Cairo?”

  He forced his head away from the valley between her breasts.

  “There is nothing left in New York that I want, Jessica. Jamaica has it all. I need nothing else.”

  “I beg to differ,” Storm said jumping up from his lap. “In New York you left behind something very special.”

  “What?” Cairo asked perplexed. “I took everything of value with me.”

  Storm pulled him from his chair and held him in her arms. “You didn’t take me.”

  Cairo started to pull away but Storm wouldn’t let him go.

  “Dance with me.” She said looking up into his eyes.

  Cairo wanted to refuse; good sense said that he should. But his body was a traitor to him. Before he could halt the memory, he was reminded of how good she had once felt and how good she had once tasted. In that moment, he forgot why he should be fighting his attraction to Storm. He forgot everything.

  “One dance,” He heard himself saying. “And then I have to go.”

  They swayed to the music and danced with each other to melodious sounds floating on the night air. Their bodies melded together like long lost lovers. Storm held him tight.

  “I have to go.” Cairo said abruptly disentangling himself as he felt his body warming to her touch.

  Storm started to argue but he interrupted her. “This was nice but wasted on me. I know what you’re doing Jessica and it won’t work, not this time. If I was easy to manipulate in the past, I’m certainly not now. It was a well-planned, professionally executed and brilliantly thought out seduction. But there is something you’ve forgotten: I don’t want to get involved with you. If you were bad for me then, you’re even worse now. I like my life the way it is, Jessica. Please stay out of it.”

  He didn’t wait to see how she would take his news. He turned and walked away, while he was still able.

  Later that night, Cairo kicked the covers off his body and twisted in his bed. Sweat dotted his forehead, formed beads of perspiration on his muscled chest and dripped from his body in rivulets to soak the sheets. Restless, he flopped onto his stomach but the movement didn’t rouse him from the dream that still held him in its grip.

  He burst into his apartment and headed straight for his room. He immediately started breaking things. He ripped down, shattered and destroyed every picture, memento and gift Storm had ever given him. He destroyed every sign of her until nothing of their short-lived romance remained.

  Papa Joseph sat in his chair in their tiny apartment and watched his outburst with sorrow and sympathy in his eyes. The look went straight through him and cut through all his defenses. Cairo walked over to his grandfather and fell to his knees in front of him. Laying his head on his lap, he cried. Cried like when he heard that his parents were dead, cried like his life was at an end, for in every way that counted, it was. She was gone. It was over.

  “There, there child,” Papa Joseph said gently stroking his head. “Tell your granddad what is wrong, you hear.” The command was soft with the musical lilt of the Caribbean singing through his words.

  Cairo cried so hard that his body shook; he released the tears that he’d been holding in from the minute Storm’s parents had walked into the motel room and ruined his life. After what seemed like hours, Cairo raised his head and wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “What’s wrong, son?” The old man persisted. “Tell me what possessed you to leave your wife alone on your wedding night. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

  Again, Cairo didn’t speak; instead his jaw hardened into steel. He lifted his left hand and slowly removed the gold wedding band from his finger. He placed the ring onto his grandfather’s lap and with a voice that belied his twenty years, he said, “Hold that for me, granddad. I don’t need it after all.” Cairo got to his feet. “Remember when my parents died and you took me to Jamaica so I could see where you were from. On the trip, you told me that my parents made you my guardian because they knew you loved me as much as they did. You told me then that despite the differences in our races we were more than family and if I ever asked you for anything you would see that it got done. Well I am asking now. I’m leaving New York. I’m going to Jamaica as soon as I can get a flight. I want you to come with me. You’re too old to be working in that factory. We’ll go to your little house in the country and make ourselves a new life.”

  “What about that sweet girl of yours?” His grandfather asked his eyes penetrating.

  “Her parents took her back. She’s no longer mine.” Cairo turned away from the look in his grandfather’s eyes.

  “But . . . ”

  He turned back. “I don’t want to talk about her. Not now, not ever. She’s a liar and she can’t be trusted. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  His grandfather caught his hand. “You can’t run away from love, Cairo. You can’t run away from life. Whatever your problems, they won’t end when you leave the country. They’ll f
ollow you wherever you go. Now tell me about Storm. Tell me what happened that makes you want to run away to Jamaica?”

  Cairo stood looking down into the face of the only person on earth that he now loved. “Papa Joseph, I’m leaving with or without you but I really want you to come. Storm is dead to me. I don’t ever want to hear her name mentioned in my presence again.”

  Papa Joseph didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he studied Cairo carefully, his gaze sneaking into the hidden corners of his heart before he stood and slowly made his way to his room.

  “Where are you going, granddad?” Fear and the threat of tears roughened his voice. He’d lost Storm; he couldn’t lose Papa Joseph too.

  His grandfather looked back. “I’m going to pack.”

  Cairo ran behind the old man and hugged him, lifting him clear off his feet. “I love you, granddad. You’ll never know how much this means to me. I’ll build you a grand house on the hills. You’ll be proud of me. You just wait and see.”

  The dream shifted and changed. Tears wet the corners of Cairo’s eyes as he slept.

  “One, two, three, yeah, that’s it Papa Joseph. Keep on breathing. You can do it. I know you can.” Cairo coached as he sat silently holding his grandfather’s hand in the hospital room. The other hand rested lightly on the old man’s now sunken chest. He’d been there for twenty-four hours already, tirelessly counting each and every beat of the old man’s heart.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt that if he kept track of his grandfather’s erratic heartbeat that he could defy the things that were conspiring against him to steal the life of the only person on earth that he loved. But if God was ready for his grandfather, he had to wait in line, because Cairo wasn’t letting him go. So throughout the long night, he kept vigil at his grandfather’s bed and when Papa Joseph’s heart beat, his heart beat as well. He didn’t move, but sat in the chair and watched over the man who’d been more than a parent to him. He had taught him everything he knew, he had saved his life more than once and now Cairo was determined to return the favor. The man in front of him was the only thing that he lived for. He couldn’t die now. He wouldn’t let him.