Northern Moonlight

by Anisa Claire West

  Sabrina walked for almost an hour along the shore, but as she veered farther away from the bustling hotel, she realized she should turn back. In such a short time, the temperature had dipped noticeably, close to ten degrees in Sabrina’s estimation. She quickened her pace as she looked around her for people, but there was no one in sight. This part of the beach was strangely deserted, or perhaps she had entered private domain. Suddenly uneasy, the blood pounded in her temples when she heard a male voice shout in French, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

  Terrified, Sabrina did not turn around to face the stranger, but instead began running as fast as she could back towards the hotel. She stumbled on a pile of shells and felt a piercing in the flesh of her foot, not bothering to look down and see if she was bleeding. The man was running behind her in bold pursuit, calling out, “Wait a minute!” But Sabrina would not stop running until she reached her destination.

  With her heart dropped into her stomach, she flinched as the man caught up with her and touched her shoulder. “Don’t touch me!” She cried out and then screamed, the sound echoing frightfully over the water.

  She dared to look at the man, surveying his sunburned face and touristic attire of Bermuda shorts and tee-shirt with the logo of an American soft drink company. Barely taller than her and with a lanky build, the man looked to be young and harmless.

  “What do you want?” She asked, struggling for breath.

  “I am so sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have done that.” The man apologized in authentic American English.

  Sabrina was befuddled. “You’re American? Why did you address me in French? Who are you?”

  The young man laughed softly and explained. “Yup, I’m American. I spoke in French to get in the spirit of things. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You see, I was in the lobby when you checked into the resort yesterday. I overheard your conversation with the clerk and…gee, I guess I should have introduced myself then, but you seemed in such a rush to get to your bungalow. I’m Tom…didn’t Darlene tell you about me?”

  Darlene! How did this man know Darlene? Seeing the confusion in her eyes, Tom continued his explanation, “I guess she didn’t. I’m a freelance writer and was commissioned to write the article on Martinique that will accompany your photographs.”

  Sabrina was livid. “Are you kidding me? She never told me anything like this at all! I always go on assignment alone…and I had planned out my whole eight weeks here, exactly what I would photograph…” she trailed off.

  Tom didn’t seem offended. “You’ll find that I’m a very flexible guy. This is the assignment of my life, and I’ll write about whatever you photograph. It’s the least I can do for scaring you half to death.”

  Sabrina was suspicious of Tom’s chipper attitude, but decided not to question it and risk his changing his mind. “Well, then, I’m glad to hear that.” She said simply.

  “Let me walk you back to your bungalow. It’s not safe for a pretty woman to be out here on the shore alone after dark.”

  Sabrina allowed Tom to escort her back to the bungalow and gave him a professional handshake once they arrived there. From nowhere, Tom blurted out, “Paul Gauguin was here.”

  Sabrina’s eyed him as though he were insane as she whispered, “Pardon me?”

  Tom laughed nervously and said, “Well, he wasn’t here at this bungalow…and er…he wasn’t here recently…I mean the great painter…he came here briefly before going to Tahiti. Rumor has it he was very inspired by the beauty of this country and there’s a museum named for him.”

  “That’s very interesting. I didn’t know Gauguin had visited Martinique.” Sabrina offered politely.

  “Yup, he sure did…say, would you like to go with me to that museum tomorrow?”

  Misinterpreting his invitation, Sabrina answered slowly, “Well, I suppose. A cultural landmark such as that would make a good photograph and story for this project.”

  Tom nodded, disappointed that she had not understood his meaning and then boldly ventured, “Is it too late to go for a drink? I’ve been so bored inside my hotel room.”

  On raw impulse, Sabrina replied, “No, I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend back in Vermont.” She almost gasped at her own admission, realizing without any doubt whatsoever now that she needed to be with Gio. Tom was a cute, friendly, albeit goofy, man, yet all she could think of was Gio. The tempest of her constantly shifting emotions was like a tragic comedy taking place deep inside her. If she could write the ending, she would be in Gio’s arms once more and for always. Tom looked down awkwardly, shook Sabrina’s hand again, and bid her a hasty goodnight, disappearing into the shadows of the Caribbean shore.

  Walking into the bungalow, Sabrina hoped that she hadn’t hurt Tom’s pride too much, but he had been foolhardy to ask for a date minutes after scaring her like that. As she peeled off her sundress and slipped into a sheer white teddy, Sabrina considered how she was going to handle her feelings for Gio. If what they had was real, then it would endure this separation. If he felt as she did, then he would welcome her back from Martinique with open arms and confess how foolish he had been to let her go. She would complete her assignment to the best of her ability and, if Gio were in Vermont upon her homecoming professing his love, then it would be destiny. If, alternatively, she returned home and he did not want her back, then her feelings for him would prove to be no more than unrequited love. The latter possibility made her heart freeze, so she focused on the happier alternative as a sliver of moon bathed the sky in white light and a gentle breeze caressed her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Burlington, Vermont

  A Few Weeks Later…

  Max and Cara were sitting in his kitchen, where he had just attempted to cook dinner for her. The results were laughable with baked potatoes exploding in the oven and vegetables charred to the point of disintegration. Max’s efforts amused and flattered Cara, and she did not complain though her stomach rumbled demandingly. As Max pored over the phonebook to find a restaurant with delivery service, Cara settled into his lap on the reclining armchair.

  “I’m getting really concerned about my sister. She hasn’t been in touch once since arriving in Martinique.”

  “Have you tried to get in touch with her?” He asked, setting down the phonebook.

  “Yes, I called the hotel where she’s staying, and they told me that phone service in certain guest areas is broken because of a hurricane. They assured me that she’s fine, but I want to hear her voice for myself.” Cara’s face contorted with sisterly concern.

  Max wrapped his arms around Cara’s waist and tried to soothe her. “Baby, if anything were wrong, you would have heard about it. I’m sure she’s fine. She probably needs this time to herself after how things ended with Gio.”

  Cara puckered her lips sourly. “How is that ridiculous man by the way?”

  Max chuckled. “That ridiculous man is doing awful. He hasn’t wanted to see anyone or do anything since Sabrina left. He’s just been putting in even more overtime at the firehouse to numb the pain. Now he’s someone we need to worry about.”

  “Max, can’t you talk some sense into him and help get them back together…I mean, they got us together…” She kissed him and affectionately rumpled his sandy hair.

  “The man is a mule, Cara. If he decides to admit to himself how hopelessly in love he is, then he’ll have to do it of his own volition. I’m not in the job market to be hired as Cupid, even if they did introduce us.”

  Cara abandoned the subject, still feeling that she and Max ought to do something drastic to reunite the obstinate lovers. Max slammed the phone book shut and said, “Baby, let’s go out for some grub. We’ll take a cruise on the lake after dinner. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sounds like a dream.” Cara cooed as they shuffled out the door.

  The next morning, Max and Cara lay together in his bed, shielding their eyes from the incoming sun. The telephone rang intrusively, eliciting a grumble from Max. “Who in their right mind is calling so early
?” He reached over Cara to grab the phone and boomed a gruff hello into the receiver.

  “Max…I need your help.” Gio’s hoarse, unhappy voice sounded over the line.

  “Gio, what’s wrong man?”

  “Is Cara there?”

  “Cara? Why do you want to talk to her?” Max’s tone was instinctively possessive.

  “It’s about Sabrina. If Cara is there, would you please let me talk to her? Come on, don’t make me cut through red tape. I’m suffering over here.” Gio’s voice was a plea unlike any Max had ever heard before. Without further argument, he handed the phone to Cara, whispering to her that Gio wanted to speak with her.

  Perking up immediately, Cara seized the phone from Max and squeaked, “Gio? Is that you? Have you heard from Sabrina?”

  “No, I haven’t…why do you ask?”

  “She hasn’t gotten in touch with me or our parents since arriving in Martinique. Max is convinced that she’s fine, but I would feel much better if I could speak to her myself.”

  “So would I.” Gio mumbled. “Cara, I need to see her. How can I get in touch with her?” The pleading in his voice was even stronger now.

  “She’s unreachable by phone. I think the only way to see her is either to wait another four weeks until she comes back…or go see her yourself in Martinique.”

  “I can’t wait four weeks. Tell Max he’s going to have to take care of Pal because I’m going to Martinique.”

  “You’re going to Martinique?!” Cara shouted jubilantly.

  “Yes, I have to. This separation is driving me insane. All this time apart has done is reaffirm how much I need your sister. I’m not going to be a coward anymore. I’m going after her, and this time, I’m not letting her go. Ever.”

  Cara felt like crying with joy as she told Gio to get a pencil and paper so she could relay Sabrina’s hotel address. When she had finished, Gio said, “Thank you, Cara. I’ll be getting a plane ticket as soon as I can. But first there’s something I need to do.”

  “What’s that Gio?” she queried.

  “I can’t tell you right now. But it’s something that’s been a long time coming.” With that mystifying statement, Gio hung up the phone leaving Cara halfway between overjoyed and uncertain.

  “Max,” she said, “Gio is going to Martinique to be with Sabrina. But he said there’s something he needs to do first that’s been a long time coming. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

  Max wound his fingers through Cara’s mahogany mane and said, “No, I couldn’t begin to guess.”

  “He sounded so intense. I’m kind of worried that he’s planning something crazy.”

  Max scoffed at her fears. “Baby, don’t be silly. I’ve known Gio for half my life. He’s heartbroken over losing your sister, so that’s where the intensity comes from. And now that we’ve finally solved the mystery of the fire, he can live more peacefully. Even more peacefully knowing that the perp is deceased.”

  “Stefano is deceased, but Helena is not. Do you think he would try to harm her?”

  “Cara!” Max was stern now. “Stop theorizing about Gio. He’s not a violent man. Besides, he’s made his peace with Helena too. After all, she did provide a full confession, albeit fourteen years after the fact. You should be happy that Gio is going to chase after your flighty sister. Now nobody has to put on Cupid wings.”

  Max’s words angered Cara, and she defended her sister. “Sabrina is not flighty! Traveling is part of her job, and Gio practically pushed her out of the country. Your best friend is the one who---”

  Max cut her off there, pinning her on her back and kissing her so hard that she was incapable of protesting. “Let them live their lives, and we’ll live ours.” Max rasped, fondling the silken skin of her hips and belly.

  Tangling her hands in Max’s hair and giving a deliberate yank, Cara wordlessly complied, and for the rest of the morning their shared passion was the only matter they lavished with attention.

  Chapter 19

  Gio plodded through the woods, shoes crunching on the grass and snapping stray twigs. With compass in hand, he walked eastward to where the park ranger’s makeshift office was located. All around him, the forest seemed to close in, summer wind whispering reminders of what the trees had suffered in the blaze. He treaded on through the woods, mentally noting where he had left his truck and necessary supplies for the project he was about to embark on.

  About a mile into the forest, Gio spotted a small building that looked like a converted cabin. Posted outside was a decaying sign that read Office of the Park Ranger. With a determined breath, Gio burst inside the park ranger’s office, blank check in hand, and approached the small, messy desk in the center of the room. A bristly looking man in ranger uniform acknowledged Gio with a quick nod.

  “Hello, Sir. My name is Giovanni Salvatore. I’m a fireman here in Burlington.” Upon hearing this, the ranger respectfully tipped his hat. Gio began to state his business in the park. “Sir, I know this is not regular practice, but I would like to request permission to plant three trees in the forest. Do you have the authority to approve that?”

  The park ranger caressed his silver beard thoughtfully. “Mr. Salvatore, I’ve been managing this park for more years than you’ve been alive, and I do have the authority to grant such a request. But you know planting season is over. And the groups of tree-planting volunteers sign up months in advance with the county.”

  “Yes sir, I do understand the procedure.” Gio gestured toward the chair beside the ranger’s desk. “May I have a seat?”

  “You may, and call me William.”

  “Thank you, William. I’ve come here today to ask you to grant me this permission because I would like to establish a memorial for three people who perished in a fire long ago.” Gio tried to speak calmly and avoid exposing how wrenchingly emotional this moment was for him. “My parents and brother were murdered by arson back in 1966. Please, William, would you bend your policy just this once and permit me to plant some trees? It’s all I can do to honor my family.”

  William spoke with benevolent authority, “Yes, I will grant you permission.”

  William rose to his feet and warmly shook Gio’s hand. Practically speechless, Gio looked into the man’s weather-worn face and saw there a wisdom that he was not usually privy to. The man had a paternal aura about him that moved Gio and made him ponder what his relationship with his own father could have grown into had they been given more time.

  “William, you are a kind man. I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am.”

  The park ranger’s eyes twinkled with pleasure at Gio’s words, and he led him outside to locate a fertile spot where the trees could be planted. The men walked deeper into the woods until William finally found a spot suitable for the trees.

  “Campers don’t usually come this far in. I think this is a nice, quiet place.” William stomped his foot on the ground to test it. “It’s plenty moist for planting, and I think these trees will manage just fine even though we’re in the midst of summer.” He dug into his pocket and retrieved a bright orange colored bar. “I’ll leave this here as a marker, so you know exactly where to plant.”

  Gio surveyed the land that William had chosen, pleased with the private location and the pliable condition of the soil. “Thank you, William. I’ll go back to my truck now and get the trees and my tools.” Gio shook the man’s hand warmly as he turned to hike back to his truck.