Island Love

by Curtis Bennett

Their attention diverted, I went into my Jason Bourne mode. Others from the old school would call it Bruce Lee ass-whipping time. Either way, I quickly disarmed the crook behind me and with the speed of lightning, spun around and dropped the second fiend with a powerful roundhouse kick to the face. I then pummeled the ringleader with a combination of punches to the midsection and face until he fell unconscious to the ground. The skipper took care of the heavyset bandito at his side but not before the man’s gun discharged. That’s when I saw Leïla collapse.

  Frantically, I rushed to her slumped form and kneeled at her side. I saw blood just behind her right ear. By now the Coast Guard helicopter had landed and personnel from it ran towards us, most of them carrying automatic weapons. A Coast Guard patrol boat appeared offshore minutes later.

  A medic arrived on scene and began to administer first aid to Leïla as his comrades in arms rounded up the bad guys and perp-walked them towards the boat. Our ordeal was finally over, though not Leïla’s ordeal. Blood, bandages, medical tools, and intravenous tubes; the sight of these life supporting apparatuses and their association with Leïla, the woman I loved, proved challenging and visually overwhelming. A gurney was soon rushed over to where she lay semi-conscious and her limp form was placed on it. After a careful inspection of the bloody area behind her ear, the medic turned with a trace of a smile and assured me that she had suffered nothing more than a superficial flesh wound. That one appraisal eased my mind. My heart, which had been racing, calmed down.

  While her wound was cleaned and covered, the skipper and I were taken aside and questioned. We told them the whole story from beginning to end. In the meantime, two DEA agents collected evidence and took photos, then headed off into the woods to find the loot that was hidden there somewhere, based on the information we had given them.

  As the gurney was lifted up by four men, I followed them until they arrived at the open helicopter entrance. Though Leïla still appeared a little dazed, she seemed to be coherent enough to recognize me.

  Leaning over her, I planted a kiss on her lips and assured her that everything would be all right. “I love you Leïla,” I told her, clutching her hand.

  A trace of a smile broke out on her lips, hers eyes gazing up into mine in a way that made my eyes moist.

  After I released her hand, I watched solemnly as they placed her inside of the craft. I had already provided them with her name and address so they proceeded to take off. I would follow in the boat since I was not kinfolk or married to her. A few of the Coast Guard personnel assisted the skipper and me as we loaded the tent and generator and refrigerator onto the dinghy. Leaving our island paradise, turned survivor quest, behind, we arrived back in St Thomas on the Blue Oyster in less than an hour and half. After the skipper helped me load up the SCION with Leïla’s and mine’s camping equipment, I immediately took off for the hospital.

  Because of the ordeal she had gone through they had sedated her. I sat beside her for two hours while she slept. Before leaving, I went down to the hospital store and bought a really nice get well card and a large white vase of yellow carnations and returned them to her room. Bending over her I kissed her rosy cheek then stared at her lovely face as she slept quietly. Such beauty was rare; such a peaceful sight was just as rare, almost elusive. Nothing could match this except when she was awake and gazing up into my loving and caring eyes.

  Returning to her flat, I placed the keys to the SCION on her lamp table and called for a cab. After a few minutes had passed, I spotted the cab pulling up. Locking up the place with the spare key she had given me, I entered the cab. Along the way I had visions of Leïla’s slumped form. It still haunted me along with the stark reality that I had come close to losing her that day.

  Once back at my villa, I took a well-deserved shower and grabbed a bite to eat down at the bar & grill. I would let her rest and visit her at the hospital first thing in the morning.

  At first I was stunned, just plain mystified. Hospital personnel had told me that Leïla had checked out the night before after her parents showed. I didn’t believe them so I went up to her room but they were right, she was not there. There were no flowers, no get well card, no Leïla in sight. Just an empty room.

  I did not panic, though. I told myself that she must be at home. I called her but did not get a response. Perhaps her phone needed to be charged, I thought. That would explain everything. It sounded logical and practical.

  Jumping into my rental car I raced over to her place. Pulling up into her driveway it was obvious she was not home. The SCION was gone. Using my spare key, I entered the house. I looked around the apartment then entered her bedroom. Like a thief pilfering through a victim’s personal belongings, I pulled open drawers and opened her closet. Some things were gone, most notably her luggage and some clothing and several pairs of shoes were missing from their storage rack. Securing the place, I noticed an envelope tucked away near the spot where she kept an emergency backup key to the place. I reached down and took it in hand and opened it. It read:

  Dear Marcus,

  I am feeling much better now, my love. My mother and father arrived shortly after

  you left, I was told by hospital staff. They have come to return me home.

  I will mail in my final assignment then head over to Florida in a few weeks to

  get prepared for Spring semester starting January. I will call you.

  Love you much… Leïla.

  PS: Sorry I didn’t get to see you before leaving. My parents were

  insistent that we leave right away since they had to return to work the following day.

  So, she had returned to Antiqua with her parents. Though I was not certain why they did what they did and the way they did it, I understood that they were concerned about Leïla’s welfare and rightfully so. She had come close to being shot dead. If she was my daughter I’d feel the same way, too. Hell, she probably could use the rest anyway, I reasoned.

  Over the next two days I waited for a call, her call. When it never came, I became disillusioned. I was puzzled. Adding to my uncertainty was the fact that my three week stay in St Thomas was up. I would be returning to the States later that afternoon. I had no doubt that I would be returning to the island in the future as a witness for what happened to us on our one time island of paradise, but I wondered when I would see Leïla’s lovely face again. If I had just another day or two I’d fly over there to Antiqua and seek her out. But I was scheduled to attend an important meeting which was to discuss the pros and cons of taking the company public.

  I was conflicted to say the least. But my aunt and uncle were counting on me being there. Besides, Leïla was in safe hands now. I could catch a plane down there in the ensuing weeks to search for her.

  After packing my luggage, I walked over to the bar and grill to bid goodbye to the friends I had made there during my stay and to Captain Billings, the sassy talking parrot. I took off for the airport shortly after that. It wasn’t long before I was airborne.

  Chapter Ten

  I spent my first few days back at the office in a fog of sorts. My mind just wasn’t on my work. I’d find myself staring out at the busy beach and into the deep blue ocean beyond it and then at the distant horizon thinking about Leïla and wondering why I had yet to hear from her. It just did not make sense to me. I knew what she felt for me was real. I saw it in her eyes just before they put her on the helicopter and I saw it many times before that. But it was the memory of her gazing up at me that seemed to be the most poignant memory. Not knowing her address or her parent’s phone number I had no way of getting in touch with her. I called her cellphone several times but got a message saying that it was no longer in service.

  Some days were better than others for me. Usually my bad days followed whenever I’d watch the videos I made of Leïla while in St Thomas and on our island of paradise. I imagine that like most people who’d find themselves in my predicament, I too, was close to losing my mind. None of this made any rational sense to me. You just don’t f
eel what Leïla and I felt for one another and go through what we had gone through together and then one of us just vanish. I could not accept this and wasn’t about to.

  In the days ahead, there wasn’t a night that went by that I had not searched Facebook and other social networks throughout that day, though with no luck. My work schedule, and deadlines I had to meet, prevented me from flying down to Antiqua the following week. By the second week I had decided that I had to become more proactive in my pursuit if I was ever going to see the woman that I loved again. With the extended Memorial Day weekend coming up I decided I’d make reservations to fly down to Antiqua in search of Leïla. But I was not going to sit by idly until that time. I would find out everything I could about the island of Antiqua. And I would continue my search for her online.

  Sitting down at my desk, I thumbed through the rolodex cards and retrieved the phone number to my travel agent. I was not going to be happy with life or with myself until Leïla and I shared the same space and breathed the same air again. That’s just the way I felt.

  As I always do when I need consultation on a business or personal matter, I’d solicit the advice and counsel of my wise uncle. He’d certainly shed some light on the subject. After finalizing arrangements my flight to Antiqua I called my uncle to discuss my concerns regarding Leïla. As was his nature he listened intently before commenting.

  “So what do you think?” I asked him concluding my dialogue.

  “It’s quite interesting, I must admit,” he said solemnly. “I’d certainly want to know what happened if it was me.”

  “So, do you think I’m doing the right thing going down there?” I asked, slowly rocking in my office chair.

  “As the saying goes, my nephew,” he began. “One must follow one’s heart. And if you are truly in love with this woman, as you appear to be, yes…go and find her.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear from you,” I relayed.

  “I have no doubt you were going to head down there anyway, regardless of what I said on the subject,” he came back with a light chuckle. “Knowing you as well as I do Marcus, you probably have already made arrangements to head down there. Am I right?”

  “You’re right,” I admitted with a lighthearted chuckle of my own.

  “Okay, there you have it,” he said. “But you make sure you are careful down there, nephew. And stay away from uninhibited islands as well, okay.”

  “I promise to, on both counts.”

  We ended our conversation after going over some minor business concerns and I returned to what needed to be done before I took off to attend a meeting. Whatever my personal concerns or heartbreaks were, I still needed to earn a living.

  Antiqua, or Wadadli, was the larger of the two main islands that formed Antiqua. The other was Barbuda, or Wa'omoni. Antiqua, the birthplace of Leïla, was explored by Christopher Columbus in 1493 and named for the Church of Santa Maria de la Antigua in Seville, my research revealed. Antigua was colonized by Britain in 1632; Barbuda was first colonized in 1678. Antigua and Barbuda joined the West Indies Federation in 1958. With the breakup of the federation, it became one of the West Indies Associated States in 1967, self-governing its internal affairs. Full independence was granted Nov. 1, 1981.

  My internet search produced little other information than this on the island. But it was a start. Information from other sources I had collected added more dimension to my research. As for its people, the culture was creole. This cultural blend stemmed from the mixing of Amerindian, West African, and European (primarily British) cultural traditions. As for language, I discovered that Antiguan creole, which is mainly spoken there, was essentially a hybrid product of West African languages and English. Oddly, English was the official language. This linguistic situation resulted from the colonial history of the nation, which was one of 350 years of near continuous British rule.

  The island was a beautiful one, according to all reports. With an area consisting of 108 square miles, its jagged coastline produced hundreds of beautiful white sand beaches, bays, and coves, I read. Yet, there was a darker side to this Caribbean island’s past history. Antigua was once a major center of money laundering, drug trafficking, and arms smuggling. Since that time, the islanders are said to have worked hard to change this perception of the island to one more positive.

  Moving on in my readings I searched for information about Antigua’s cuisine, much of it creole in nature. I found that among the more established creole specialties of Antigua and Barbuda were rice pudding, salt fish and antrobers (eggplant; the national breakfast), bull foot soup, souse, maw, goat water, cockle (clam) water, conch water, and Dukuna. The salted cod used in making the national breakfast was not a local fish, my information read. It was an import from the United States and Canada that had been imported since before the revolt of the American colonies. From the looks of it, I’d probably have to find a restaurant that served American cuisine.

  While on the subject of researching this island, I also looked up information on their currency. If I was going down there I needed to know something about their monetary exchange system. Unlike St Thomas, whose currency was the US dollar, the currency of Antigua and Barbuda was the Eastern Caribbean dollar. I would check the internet later to see what our dollar equaled to theirs.

  The thought of me finally getting to the bottom of this mystery and seeing Leïla again made me feel more optimistic. It was only a matter of time before I hoped to come face to face with the woman of my dreams again. Some reservation about the outcome remained, though. For reasons I cannot explain, I sensed there were forces working behind the scene that was keeping us apart. Whether it was fate or situational, I planned on finding out.

  Two days later I found myself packing and preparing for a trip to an exotic country I had only heard about on television, in travel brochures, and information I had garnished from the internet, as well as from Leïla’s own lips. As the day of my flight approached I grew more anxious. It was the unknown that I felt the most apprehensive about. In a final effort to locate Leïla before heading down to Antiqua, I had called Miles Jones in St Thomas to see if he could get Leïla’s cousin, Iris, to give me a phone number or address. Iris was over in Europe at a conference but relayed back to Miles that she did not have Leïla’s phone number with her and wasn’t sure of the exact address of her parents but that she would look into it and get back with Miles.

  My plane ride ended on the northwestern end of Antigua in its capital, Saint John's. Once there I picked up my rental car and found my way to my hotel suite. I did not dally around but went into high gear right away. This was a love affair that could not wait. After stopping at Fisherman’s Wharf Seafood Restaurant & Pizzeria for lunch, I got in touch with the private detective on the island I had looked up on the internet a few days before leaving Ft Lauderdale. Though he knew of her, as a former beauty contest winner, he said that he did not have anything concrete on her whereabouts yet, but that he should by the next day. He assured me that he was working on several solid leads. Meanwhile, he advised me to settle down, get comfortable, and play the role of tourist as well as get out and see the island. Perhaps, he speculated, I just might run into Leïla at the marketplace or on the beach. I told him that I would take his advice while I abided my time.

  As I had indicated I would do, I dressed up in beige shorts and a loose beige shirt and dark shades and topped off my attire with a wide rim hat, and headed out to play the typical American tourist. However, this was a tourist on a mission. For nearly four hours I scoured the beaches and shopping areas. Deep Bay, Rendezvous Bay, and Half Moon Bay are just three of the ten beaches I scoured in my search for Leïla. Occasionally I’d sit down at outdoor cafés sipping a cool refreshing drink or chow down on a local delicacy or dessert while scanning every beauty that passed by or was in my immediate vicinity. But still there was no sign of her. There was one young woman whom I caught a glimpse of and approached from behind but when she turned to face me, I saw that it was not her. And I tho
ught this only happened in the movies. Anyway, I apologized. She appeared quite understanding as she said with a friendly tropical smile that it was all right. Turning, I moved on.

  Though I wasn’t on vacation I picked up a few souvenirs along the way and stored them in my rental. I also visited another ten beaches. It sounded like a lot until you realize that there were nearly 365 beaches on the island. Around dinner time, I dined at a popular spot called Lydia's Caribbean Seafood Restaurant. The food was everything I’d hoped it to be. An hour later I left the place with a bloated stomach and no complaints. That’s about as good as it had gotten for me in my efforts to locate the woman I loved.

  My hopes dashed for the day, I returned to my suite and watched a movie I had downloaded on the internet. How could one be so close but so far, I pondered? Just as I completed that thought the phone rang. I had intended on buying a local cellphone because the island had their own cellphone service and it did not include American companies such as Verizon, T-Mobile, AT&T, and PCS Metro. So I had to rely on the hotel phone for updates from the private eye I had hired until I purchased a local phone. Then I thought, perhaps that is why I could not get through to Leïla’s phone. Once here on the island she would have had to purchase a local cellphone operating by way of their local service provider. But why had she not accessed her old phone to get my number and call me, I pondered? It made no sense to me.

  Picking up the phone I greeted the caller. It was the private eye. He called to tell me that he had the address where Leïla’s parents resided. Buoyed by this new development, I grabbed a pen and jotted down the information and thanked him. Leaning back on the sofa, my hands clasped behind my head, I pondered my next move. After giving it some thought, I decided to head over there in the morning. I reasoned that everything would be back to the way it was before the near tragic incident on the island. As for what I had been through, I chalked it up to being nothing more than a series of miscues, missed opportunities, and technical challenges. Still, as much as I wanted to pin everything on this one final analysis, there was something still not right with this picture I kept telling myself. One thing was for certain; I was hopeful that tomorrow would bring clarity to this mystery.