by Delka Beazer
The recent spate of eruptions has virtually emptied this side of the island which sits within a hairsbreadth of the danger zone whose entry is forbidden. I wrap my arms tightly around myself. Though we cannot see the mountain from this hill I catch hints of the ash infused air, and it reeks of rotted roots.
I try to focus on something less disgusting. On the opposite side of the bus Aubrey is asleep again, cuddled into Elaine’s arms. I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch her hand glide soothingly over his close cropped hair, down the side of his flushed cheek and back up again.
I have rarely seen Elaine touch Aubrey like a mother. Aubrey adores her but has learned to keep his love in check at her unpredictable coldness. Now overnight she is clasping him to her bosom, shielding him from harm.
All of which is Nate’s fault, I muse bitterly. And my own stupidity and greed. I should never have helped him. No matter how much money he’d offered me. I watch a dosing Stacy from beneath my lashes. Even Stacy, someone he has known before me and who obviously has such tender feelings for him has suffered because of him, with the ugly bruises on her otherwise flawless face to prove it.
Still I cannot quite make myself sympathize with her. She had had a chance to escape this perilous connection and she’d chosen not to.
I return my gaze to the vehicle’s window.
As we swing around the hill, the sun is sparkling on the sea, and I recognize belatedly that this is my most favorite time of day. The heat is going from the sun, the sea is at its calmest with not even a ruffle for a wave and the trees are swaying to music that only they can hear.
We make a particularly sharp turn and Stacy’s leg brushes mine for the umpteenth time. She awakens, my lips tighten but seeing her tentative smile I try to swallow down my unwarranted hostility.
None of this is her fault. She’d obviously suffered because of Nate. I hate to contemplate the fear she must have gone through, the ruthless feel of Emmanuel’s hands on her, colliding with her soft flesh.
On our way into town from the pier this morning, she’d opened up to Nate about what she’d gone through.
I had listened as she’d detailed some of the horrors Emmanuel had put her through when he’d found her hanging out with some friends she’d met at another local resort.
I become terrified all over again as I recall how close I had come to Stacy’s fate.
We hit a bump in the paved road as we turn off into a grassy driveway at the side of the hill we’ve been climbing for thirty plus minutes. We go on for a few more minutes and then pull to a halt. My mouth gapes in astonishment at the piece of homely perfection that sits in front of us.
Wooden shingles aged almost black make up the entirety of the single story home. A porch runs the entire front of the house and it sports a single broad hammock that dangles negligently in the breeze.
My guess is that the porch goes all the way to the back. I see the same thought in Aubrey’s face and we smile at each other and grinning we race to the back to see if we’re correct.
The porch does go around the entire house and I come to a stop and gaze out in wonder at the view beyond. The jewel colored sea winks back at me, now showing streaks of gold and blue. I take a few steps closer to the edge of the cliff on which the house sits.
“Daphne, be careful,” Aubrey’s shout brings me up short. I blink and turn around to find him right behind me, his hand fisted in the tail of my t-shirt, tugging me back.
I grin and playfully chuck his head. “Don’t worry. I have no intention to go flying anytime soon.” I peer down and directly in front of me the ground descends viciously into a deep ravine held together by tall, thick, emerald colored trees.
Off to the other side I hear rushing water and there is a steep pathway which winds its way through thigh high grass that is rustling in the breeze, their musky sweet odor scenting the air. I close my eyes and inhale one of the long forgotten scents of my childhood. Sweet grass and the scent of rich earth.
Nate had specifically requested this property from among the half dozen the landlord Elaine’s uncle had introduced us to.
I shift and another surge of air hits me. I savor the aroma of sea salt and the bittersweet fragrance of trees and flowers. It takes me a few moments to shake myself awake from the beckoning peace which this wilderness harbors.
I reach for Aubrey’s hand, which feels so small and defenseless in mine that it forces me to look at his great brown eyes and innocent smile. I return it with an effort that costs me a great deal. I am failing my father, the promise I made to him to take care of his youngest child.
My failure rings like a litany in my head over and over again, but its effect is nowhere near as jarring as the images of Nate and me in my bedroom, or in the bathroom on the ferry. I swallow down the gurgle of distress that wrestles to free itself from my lips.
Every moment that I am with Nate I’m breaking my word to my father but I don’t know what to do because as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me knows that Nate’s telling the truth to some degree. We are in danger and though it’s because of him that does not nullify the threat of Emmanuel one bit.
Holding tightly to Aubrey’s hand, we go back to front of the house.
Elaine is standing on the porch, our backpacks at her feet, she watches us approach. “Nate and Stacy have gone back into town to get some groceries and other stuff.”
The news blindsides me. We stare at each other and I see a trace of triumph in her eyes before pity takes over. Elaine cocks her head. “I think it’ll work out, you know.”
Against my will my gaze fixes itself on the road they’d just left vainly hoping for a retreating glimpse of them through the winding path of the trees, but her condescension whips my head around.
Fury overtakes the growing emptiness inside me, and I can literally feel it contorting my face into ugly lines. “I don’t give a damn what you think.” But it’s a lie and we both know it. Long, angry strides take me to the porch. I grab my bag from beside her feet and march into the wide open door of the house.
I look around wildly at the living room, with its pair of comfortably large twin sofas, made up of a zigzag pattern resembling Native American pottery. A wide wooden table sits in the opening between the two sofas. The kitchen sits behind this. Its appliances and tiles are so white you know you’re in a rental home instead of one where spills and life tend to leave their mark.
My gaze latches unto the two large bay windows which sit on the opposite side of the breakfast table tucked in a corner. I look out at the view which graces the back porch and I stare blindly at the spot Aubrey and I had been standing on minutes ago.
But I can’t see the beauty. The sides of my head hammers with frustrated emotions. Anger, despair. But more than anything else, hurt. It squeezes through me and it’s all I can do not to cry out with the crippling force of it.
I gasp with the effort at holding it all in.
Blinking I try to regain some semblance of control. Aubrey and Elaine will be coming into the house any minute, it’s a wonder they haven’t followed me yet. Elaine has never before cared enough to give me the necessary space to grieve.
Something wet splashes against my cheek and I swing around in horror.
I am crying.
Suddenly I’m consumed by the need to prevent Elaine from discovering that I am bawling like a fool over Nate whose disdain for me couldn’t be more evident as he’s obviously taken up with Stacy again.
I hurriedly swipe the tears from my eyes and the sounds of Elaine and Aubrey coming into the house sends me fleeing across the wooden flooring. I run to the nearest door and slip into the darkened room behind it.
Securing the latch, I release a shaky breath, and feeling along the wall I find the necessary protuberance and I flip on the light.
I am stunned as the trappings of a neat bathroom come fully into view. I have shut myself inside a bathroom again, except this time there is no Nate to come after me. The irony of the situation becomes too muc
h and hysterical bubbles well up inside me and bursts out.
I laugh, frightened at myself and the sounds which come from my mouth. I bite down hard on my lip to gain some semblance of control.
Pressing my lips together, I hastily undress. Jumping into the shower, I turn the water on at full blast.
The cold sensation knocks some sense into me and brings my laughter under control. I slump underneath the icy needles which pound my face and body. Though my laugher has died, silent tears replace them and course unchecked down my cheeks.
Long minutes later I rub a clean towel across my face, and examine myself in the small square mirror over the sink.
My eyes are a little puffy but the cold water has taken away much of the redness. I sniff like a child and study my reflection more carefully. And then I see it. A spark of determination begins to build in my face, covering the pain, erasing the lines of fear. I let it have its way through me. My chest expands until my breasts which sit high on my chest begin to vibrate with the burgeoning thirst for revenge which begins to burn through my body.
Over the last two days I’ve become a woman I don’t recognize and it has brought me nothing but pain. I shake my head vigorously to knock the idea deeper. My fingers grip the edges of the sink.
This has got to stop. I am going to find a way to take my life back from Nate Blackthorne’s ruinous grip at the first opportunity which presents itself. Then I cringe back from the most obvious course of action which opens before me.
Glancing down at my naked body, I close my eyes. I can still feel the imprint of his fingers on my breasts, the ravenous hunger of his kiss, the feel of him large and hard moving urgently inside me. It should not be too hard to use his lust against him to gain my family’s freedom.
Nate
Daphne takes another wet plate from my fingers to rinse, and I flick my thumb in such a way that I skim the skin on the outside of her pinkie.
She jerks, but doesn’t move away from my charged caress like I’d thought she would, but she doesn’t meet my eyes either. She keeps her head focused on rinsing and drying. My brows knit together in frustrated desire.
But all is not lost. Her reaction to my touch has sent my heart soaring again after three days of a subtle psychological mating dance that has driven me mad. The change in her behavior, from the way she watches me to the accidental touches between us have me balancing on the absolute edge of my control. The lack of fulfillment is tremendously arousing and bewildering at the same time.
My patience is at an end now. I grimace as I look down into the brown, soapy water on which floats bits of bread and lettuce. Soggy leftovers from dinner just a few minutes before.
Aubrey yelps in triumph and I glance around in time to see Elaine and Stacy smile at each other over the boy’s head. They are playing monopoly and I suspect that they are letting Aubrey win on purpose, a tactic that’s working if his cheeky grin is any indication.
I finish another plate and pass it to her, my lips quirk as I notice she is now using only the pads of her fingers to take the plates from me.
I almost groan aloud. Oh God, how I want to touch her, to feel her beneath my skin but she has avoided any real touching between us. I haven’t touched her since we’d arrived at the pier, and certainly not since I’d returned from my impromptu grocery run with Stacy.
I’d been prepared to face some type of backlash from her but there’d been nothing as we’d trudged in the door, our hands full of groceries. She’d stood at the stove brewing mint leaves she’d culled from the many dozens which grew voraciously all around the property. And she’d said nothing.
Now I scoop my hand into the dirty water which is mercifully empty. I release the stopper from the sink and watch with relief as the offending mixture swirls away.
She is drying her hands briskly but I move before she can scamper away into the bedroom, another habit she’d indulged in these last few days.
Lowering my head to the nape of her neck dusted with tendrils of curly dark hair, I smirk as her skin tenses at my closeness, the pulse on her throat flutters madly.
“Join me on the porch for some fresh air.”
Her head snaps around, amber eyes pierce mine. My face is completely blank as she searches it for the reason behind my request.
“Why?” There is a tremor in her voice, though she tries to hide it by sounding offhanded.
“I’d like to spend some time alone with my wife.” I reply deliberately.
Her mouth drops open before she snaps it shut, and my nostrils flare at the whiff of excitement in her eyes before she demurely lowers her long lashes to shield her thoughts from me.
Has she dreamt of her me every night like I’ve done her? The hammock doesn’t exactly make for the most comfortable sleep. That coupled with the dragging hours of surveying the property from all sides to search for any trace of Emmanuel. The snatches of sleep I did get were further strained by this demure temptress standing so innocently before me.
“Sure,” she says and the swiftness of the victory blindsides me, ratcheting up my anticipation. I have to break contact to avoid her seeing the naked desire which is sure to be clear on my face. Instead I stare at the most innocuous thing in the room, the pantry, and fight for some semblance of control.
I have been itching to get her alone these several days but there had never seemed to be the right opportunity.
She leaves me standing like an idiot at the sink and marches directly towards the door and goes out onto the porch. I catch Stacy’s angry look followed by a pout which I’d quickly come to despise during our relationship. I give her a stern stare and follow Daphne out the door.
To say that I’m nonplussed by her swift acquiescence would be an understatement. She’d avoided me for days and now she agrees to talk with me the first time I ask her.
Closing the door, I step into the darkness which envelops the porch. My eyes adjust. I look around but she is nowhere in sight.
“Daphne?”
“Over here.” Her voice is coming from around the corner of the porch. I find her seated, her legs dangling over the side. She is wearing a short, denim shirt and a spaghetti strap blouse, the paleness of the clothing is magnified in the darkness of the night.
I take a seat beside her, closer than I need too and am relieved when she doesn’t try to move away.
“So what do you want to talk about?” her warm breath smells like cinnamon, sweet and spicy. She turns a trusting face towards me. Added to the growing desire which begins gnawing at me, something new occurs. I feel protective towards Daphne. I don’t just want to bed Daphne I want to keep her safe for as long as I’m with her. The urge to reach across and gather her to me causes me to bunch my fist in rebellion. If I make such a move she’ll bolt and probably for good.
I shake myself from my shallow dreams. I would be letting her go sooner rather than later, regardless of whatever I feel. The fast approaching time for her freedom is something I’ve neglected to share with her for reasons that remain unclear even to me. “Listen, I know I’ve behaved like a selfish ass, getting you involved in this mess, but that was never my true intention.”
She chuckles softly. “Yeah, I figured things didn’t go as smoothly as you’d planned.”
I’m nettled by her polite set-down though I deserve it. “Not by a long shot” I quip acidly. I try to rein in my childish anger, “placing anyone but myself in danger was never part of the deal.”
Even in the dim moonlight, no doubt the ash from the volcano has something to do with that, I see her face tighten in consternation. “Why are you in danger Nate, and who is Emmanuel?” she asks softly.
There it is. The two questions that I have to answer truthfully, without telling the truth.
I breathe deeply, look down into the darkness and from habit at the still, dark trunks of the trees to make sure that nothing is moving.
Searching and running had become my sole occupation for this last year.
“Emmanuel works for my fo
rmer boss.” My words are whispered, subdued, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions that this topic brings up for me.
“Your former boss is trying to hurt you. Why?”
A low, bitter laugh escapes me. I have to carefully weigh my next words. “Because he holds me responsible for the death of his only son.” Liam. I have not said his name out loud for so long because it hurts too much to think of it, the gruesome expulsion of his life.
But then another thing, nearly as disturbing as my old memories happens. A dead silence drops between us after my revelation.
She sits there and I study her face to see if she’s hiding some wretched expression from me but I can’t find anything but her intent eyes. There is no stunned gasps, no swift condemnation.
There is only silence. Utter, condemning silence.
“Did you do it?”
She was giving me the benefit of a doubt? The more I talk to her the more amazed I become at the depths that smolders beneath her beautiful surface. But I’m about to destroy whatever inkling of good she may yet see in me and it is for her own safety.
“I was one of the causes of his death.”
There is the gasp and I tense, waiting for her to get up and leave. Not many people want to chit-chat with a murderer and Daphne has done more than talk with me on several occasions.
“What kind of job did you have that somebody could get killed?”
Throwing back my head I look up into the dull glow of the moon. “I sold drugs.”
Against my better judgment I force myself to watch her reaction. A short cry is cut off by her hand which rises to her face in horror.
Drugs have been a persistent and deadly problem throughout the Caribbean. I’ve sold enough here to know. There are two feelings the locals harbor toward the unhampered trade of these illicit substances, abhorrence or acceptance. I knew which category Daphne fit into. But that didn’t matter as much as my next question.