The Reef Roamer (The Roamer Series Book 1)

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The Reef Roamer (The Roamer Series Book 1) Page 7

by Deborah D. Moore


  “I didn’t know that…” Megan murmured.

  “Will you be on tomorrow’s dive?” Jayme asked the couple.

  “Unfortunately, we will be leaving tomorrow,” Megan said, squeezing her husband’s hand. “It’s been a wonderful trip.”

  ***

  Mark Steele found it frustrating to stare at the back of the green-eyed woman. He listened intently to the conversation around the table. Jayme, her name was Jayme.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Five days of diving added a sparkle to Jayme’s already enhanced complexion. She was having a grand time in spite of the few bouts of melancholy. The diving was fabulous, the people she’d met were for the most part very pleasant, and there were no complaints from anyone she’d talked to about their accommodations or the way they were serviced. This would reflect in her final video. She had noticed a while back, or was it Katherine who first noticed, that the videos were better when she’d had an exceptionally good time. Was it her attitude that made the place look better? Or was it the place that made her attitude better? She wasn’t quite sure.

  ***

  “Jayme! Won’t you join us?” Marge Thomas called out while Jayme was still in the breakfast line.

  Jayme had found Marge and Jim Thomas, from Anchorage, Alaska, to be an absolutely delightful couple. They had joined the dive boat as snorkelers on the second day. Jim was protective of his wife and made a great effort to keep her from doing too much. Marge appeared to be a bit on the frail side to Jayme; however, since the couple were in their seventies, that was to be expected.

  “Thanks,” Jayme answered, making her way to their table. “How are you feeling today, Marge?”

  “I wish everyone would quit asking me that,” Marge stated adamantly. “Truth be told, I’m a little bored. The snorkeling is fun and I love being on the water; however, I want to do some shopping, and there aren’t any decent shops here.” She had lowered her voice to a whisper so low Jayme had to strain to hear her.

  “It certainly isn’t Marsh Harbor, that’s for sure,” Jayme agreed. “I’ve got an idea, Marge. Instead of diving today, why don’t we hop the ferry and go over to the big island? Let’s make it a girl’s day!” She looked at Jim and raised her eyebrows for his thoughts.

  “I think that is a splendid idea, Marge,” Jim said, smiling at his wife. “You and Jayme should go do something other than swim all day. Honestly, I could use a break myself. I think I’ll find an empty hammock and read that book I brought along.”

  Marge looked from Jayme to Jim back to Jayme. “Oh, my! Yes, I would love to go to Marsh Harbor!”

  ***

  “Can you get me two seats on the ferry over to Marsh Harbor?” Jamie asked the front desk attendant.

  “Absolutely, Ms. Haller,” the desk clerk said. “It makes a regular stop here at 10:30 every morning. I’ll be sure to relay your request.” He hesitated. “May I ask if everything is okay? I mean with your room and the services?”

  “Oh, yes, everything is wonderful,” she glanced at his name tag, “John. Marge Thomas and I are just going to get in some shopping.”

  The young man behind the counter looked relieved. “Be at the dock by 10:15. The ferry is always either late or early.”

  ***

  “This is so exciting!” Marge exclaimed. The ocean air whipped at the ends of the scarf that held her straw hat in place, and the salt spray dampened her light jacket. She looked jubilant.

  “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Jayme asked. For their excursion, she had changed from her usual bathing suit and t-shirt to a pair of dark tan shorts, matching striped top, and comfortable sneakers. Her long chestnut hair was now in a single braid, lying casually on her shoulder. She had packed her oversized flowery straw purse with sunscreen, a light jacket, her land camera, lip balm, and sunglasses, which she promptly put on, along with a wide palm tree braided sun hat she picked up during the island tour. Her wallet and ID were secured in the fanny-pack purse she wore.

  “Looking for?” Marge snorted. “Honestly, Jayme, I just wanted to get away from Jim’s hovering for a few hours!”

  “I have noticed he’s rather protective,” Jayme said cautiously.

  Marge gave Jayme a long look, then moved beside her so she wouldn’t be overheard. “Protective is only the tip of it. I’ve been sick. I’m in remission now, but the cancer could come back at any time,” she confessed. “I want to pack as much living as I can into the time I have left. And I’m not doing that sitting around all day watching the waves!”

  Remission? Jayme thought. Her heart clenched at the thought of Marge having cancer. “Got it. I can keep up a pretty good pace when I get into shopping mode,” Jayme said with a grin, “so if at any time you need a break just say so, okay?” Marge nodded. “Oh, and I already spent a week in Marsh Harbor, so I know a few of the cutest shops off the main drag.” Jayme continued to tell Marge about some of the things they should see and places to visit. “And then there is this cab driver, Caye, who is a great tour guide. I hope we can find him because there is no way I could find this little hole in the wall place we went to for lunch that had the most incredible conch chowder.”

  ***

  “Aren’t these cute?” Marge said an hour after they had docked.

  “Are those fish scales?” Jayme peered at the colorfully painted mobiles hanging from a display.

  “Sure are, and that must have been a whopper of a fish!” Marge giggled.

  They wandered from shop to shop, up one gravel street and down another dirt one, until they found an open-air dress shop.

  “Oh, my,” Marge breathed. “These are beautiful.” She fingered the delicate silk and let the softness slip over her hand.

  “Try it on, Marge. I bet Jim would be delighted to have you in that at dinner tonight!”

  “Only if you try one on too.”

  Jayme looked through the dresses until one caught her eye. The long, thin-strapped dress was a display of blues and greens swirled together and were accented with a muted, striking purple. She slipped behind the curtain and let the silk slide over her head and caress her curves. Even if she didn’t wear it to dinner, she had to have that dress.

  ***

  They sat in heavy wrought-iron bistro chairs at an outdoor café near the water, sipping iced coffee, when Jayme stood abruptly.

  “I’ll be right back!” she said, darting across the busy street. “Caye!” she called out to the familiar cab driver.

  “Missy Haller, how good to see you again.” His gentle brown face split into a sincere grin. “And so soon!”

  “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Can you join us for coffee?” she asked.

  ***

  “Marge, this is Caye Crockett, the taxi driver I told you about,” Jayme made the introductions. “Caye, I’m so glad I spotted you. I’ve been telling Marge about that little place that served the conch chowder, and I’m hoping you can take us there for some lunch and maybe other, new places?”

  “For you, Missy Haller, my afternoon is now yours.” He bowed in her direction, remembering her tip to him last time was extremely generous in spite of his obviously inflated fee.

  ***

  “Oh, Jim, we had the most marvelous time! Jayme and I shopped and bought some new clothes, and then she found a taxi driver she knows and he drove us all over the place! Did you know there are horses on the island? And they even have their own blacksmith!” Marge chatted on animatedly, accenting the tales of certain sights with a wave of her shaky hands.

  Jim gently took one of her hands. “Did you remember to take your pills?”

  Marge stopped talking. “No, I forgot. I was too busy enjoying myself!” She reached into her oversized straw handbag and pulled out the flat container that held her daily medications, and put several in her mouth, washing them down with a sweet drink.

  “I’m sorry, Jim. If I had known, I would have made sure she took them,” Jayme said, facing Marge, shaking her finger.

&
nbsp; That evening, Marge wore her new silk dress to dinner. Jayme did not.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The evening of her seventh day of diving, Jayme sat toying with her food at dinner. Perhaps she was tired; otherwise she’d never put up with the egotistical bore who’d invited himself to her table. The other couple who had joined her, Marge and Jim, kept giving her sympathetic glances the louder this obnoxious fellow got.

  Bruce the Bore, as Jayme mentally labeled him, was some sort of real estate investment agent from Phoenix. Marge and Jim had been part of the group that was snorkeling that morning on the dive boat, and Bruce was one of the novice divers. He had latched onto Jayme straight out, being the only single female on board who didn’t look over fifty or under twenty. He had done his best to impress her with his recently acquired dive expertise, which Jayme initially found amusing. To someone with as many years of experience as she had, it was all too obvious Bruce had recently received his C-Card, and this was his first ocean dive. Never one to openly embarrass anyone, Jayme had quietly corrected his improper assembly of his rented gear.

  That had been her first mistake with Bruce. The second had been when she agreed to be his ‘buddy’ on the dives, much to the relief of their dive master, Daniel.

  “Please, Jayme, you’ve got the most experience here and he has the least. I’ve got all these others to look after. Do me this favor, okay?” Daniel could not be argued with, for he was right. In this type of situation, it was only logical. Although Jayme could have declined, she didn’t.

  “Alright, you owe me big time though!” she told him, her deep green eyes twinkling. Besides, once underwater, what trouble could Bruce cause? Jayme soon found out.

  First, Bruce had trouble descending and in doing so got them separated from the group. Then during one of her best close-up shots of a shy moray eel, Bruce yanked the regulator from her mouth when he tried to see what she was doing and got too close, then tried to back paddle with his hands.

  The final mishap came when Daniel led them to a small cave. The shimmering corals on the inside of the cave drew Jayme in, in spite of her claustrophobia. The other divers followed Daniel around the edges as he pointed various things to them and then led them out. Jayme was the last to leave. When she got to the entrance, Bruce swam out from the side and blocked her way. She kicked her fins to go over him, and he rose too, still keeping her trapped. Her heart started pounding hard in her chest, and she dove lower to go under him. Still he stopped her, he was almost laughing. With barely controlled panic, Jayme looked him in the eyes and shoved him even lower, launching herself over his head, and swam out of the cave.

  Controlling her anger, once back on board, Jayme had told him to forget it when he tried to apologize. That was her next mistake. It seemed he felt that if she would forgive him that, then Jayme must want him around…and he attached himself to her like cat fur to a sweater and was equally annoying.

  ***

  Jayme’s mind began to drift. She thought she might skip dessert and coffee and review her video footage. The idea brightened then faded as she caught the end of the conversation that had continued around her.

  “…and The Reef Roamer said it was a really fabulous place to visit. Boy was she right! We’ve never had so much fun!” Marge was explaining to Bruce.

  “The Reef Roamer?” Jayme questioned innocently.

  “You’ve never heard of The Reef Roamer travel series?” Jim asked.

  “Sure! I didn’t realize they were in circulation way up in Alaska. I mean,” she stumbled, “I’ve only seen them in dive shops.”

  “Our travel agent swears by them,” Marge continued. “There’s some big speculation going on that The Reef Roamer is really a guy and he has his girlfriend or an actress do the narration because a female sounds better,” she added in a conspirator tone with a twinkle in her soft brown eyes. Jayme liked this woman, and she appeared to have a touch of adventure about her, even at her advancing years, which Jayme knew to be early seventies.

  “Interesting,” Jayme replied thoughtfully. “What do you think, Marge? Is The Reef Roamer a man or a woman?”

  “Oh, it’s a woman alright. No doubt about it in my mind. No doubt at all!”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Have you seen her videos? The one on Cozumel in particular?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have. I’ve seen quite a few of The Reef Roamer DVDs.” Jayme knew she may be venturing too much, though it seemed to not matter at this point. Her curiosity was piqued.

  “Well, did you notice the way she filmed the children during Cinco de Mayo? It was obvious she was fascinated by them and had a real feel for family and what they felt for their children. I’d say that if the Reef Roamer wasn’t a mother herself, she wants to be. A man just can’t capture that essence. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I see your point.” Jayme leaned back in her chair, now fascinated with this woman’s account of…her.

  “Not only does she handle children with such care, there are other things that only another woman would notice,” Marge continued, a wistfulness creeping into her voice.

  “Such as?”

  “There is finesse, a lady-like finesse, about the videos and what you see. The shopping, the capturing of colors. And have you ever noticed the way some of the men smile at the camera? They aren’t smiling that way for another man, that’s for sure!”

  At this Jayme had to laugh. It came out rich and throaty, soothing and deep. “I can see The Roamer has a fan in you, Marge! Where do you think she ought to go next?”

  “I’d like to see her go back to Aruba,” Marge was so quick with her answer, it surprised Jayme.

  “Why? Didn’t you like the Aruba sequence?”

  “Oh, it was nice, but you could tell…I could tell that it was her first adventure. The others have been much better, even when she wasn’t enjoying herself. Aruba should be re-visited, and she should find a boyfriend to take with her. The Reef Roamer is lonely.”

  Jayme was taken aback by this woman’s perceptiveness. Did her loneliness really show on the tapes?

  “Why don’t you write to her then and tell her? Maybe she travels only to places her fans want her to go. And even if she won’t go back to Aruba, I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.” It was difficult for Jayme to keep some of the tenderness she felt out of her voice.

  They were interrupted by Adam.

  He bowed low. “Ms. Haller, may I have this dance?”

  Jayme grinned at the taxi driver/tour guide; anything to get away from Bruce. “Why thank you, Adam.” She stood and took his offered hand.

  And then Adam surprised her and everyone else. He nodded at the three-piece band in the corner and led Jayme into a waltz that cleared the floor. The waltz morphed into a foxtrot and then a rumba, much to the delight of the spectators, and especially to the delight of Jayme.

  “You’ve been hiding your talent as a professional dancer, Adam!” Jayme admonished him. “That was wonderful, thank you.”

  “The pleasure was indeed mine. I noticed the other day that you moved like a dancer, with grace and agility. I’m pleased that I was correct. I’m not a professional dancer, though I am a dance instructor. When the resort gets busy, I give lessons. Consequently, I don’t often get to just dance. You are a delightful and accomplished partner; perhaps we can dance again before you leave. Excuse me.” And he blended back into the crowd.

  “Jayme, that was beautiful,” Marge said with awe when Jayme sat back down.

  “Yeah, you did real nice. Now let’s you and me dance,” Bruce slurred, reaching for Jayme’s hand. He’d been pestering her all day, and now she’d had about enough of this guy.

  “No, thank you,” she managed in a steely voice, quickly giving her wrist a flick to release his hold. He was oblivious that it was intentional and took her hand again. This time when she shifted her hand, she reversed the hold. She slipped her thumb across his, pushing his backward in an unnatural position and moving the
ir now-joined hands just below the edge of the table so the Thomases couldn’t see what was happening. Bruce’s eyes widened; the pain was at a highly uncomfortable level. “What I would like is some fresh air, wouldn’t you?” She stood, exerting a tiny bit more pressure on Bruce’s thumb to assure his compliance. He stood, sucking in air. Jayme leaned over the table toward the startled couple. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please, stay.”

  She guided a gasping Bruce to the nearest French door. Once outside, Jayme could feel the warmth of the cooling sand through her thin sandals. The bright moonlight guided her way from the noise and people behind them. She could smell the coolness of the salt water as the ever-present breeze caressed her face. Under other circumstances, she would have relished the warm and humid darkness, but Jayme hated situations like this and tried hard to keep them from getting out of hand. Guys like Bruce the Bore wouldn’t or couldn’t take a hint. Jayme had found it best to confront them in private, where their flimsy male egos wouldn’t get bruised by an audience. It made them more cooperative, or more wary, the next time. If she could be sure she’d never see Bruce again, she wouldn’t care, though there was no guarantee on an island this small, and she’d be in the area for another two weeks. Word traveled fast, and Jayme couldn’t risk attention.

  “Let go of me!” Bruce hissed between clenched teeth as Jayme twisted her grip, sending him to his knees.

  “Not until we understand each other.” She paused, making sure she had his undivided attention. “I don’t like you, Bruce, and I don’t want you to ever touch me again. If you do, next time I’ll break it.” She tweaked the pressure on his wrist, and he moaned. “You’re an arrogant, pompous, rude, and obnoxious jerk. Stay away from me. Am I clear enough, now?”

 

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