by Roxy Harte
I don’t answer. Would it be rude to ask him to leave?
He oversteps his bounds when he slides a finger over my huge abdomen. “And this one, a boy or a girl?”
I grab his wrist and push his hand away from me. “That was inappropriate. You should go.”
He looks down at the sand then looks back up to meet my gaze. “My apologies. People are just friendlier on the island than what you are probably used to.”
“Well, I’m from the city and we’re not friendly at all. Perhaps you should walk away.”
“I understand your discomfort.”
He makes no effort to stand and it is becoming clear he has no intention to.
“I’d like to be alone.”
“It seems to me you are alone too much.”
Nervous, I struggle to stand. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“Have dinner with me. Perhaps over a meal we can become friends and you won’t be so distrusting and afraid.”
“Dude. You are so messing with the wrong girl.”
“I only want the opportunity to have dinner with a beautiful woman and her family.”
“Why?”
“I would like to get to know you.”
I laugh at him. “No, you don’t. I’m hateful and bitter and mean.”
“That isn’t what I see when I look into your eyes, beautiful woman.”
When I look at him, I can’t help smiling. I know I should make my face match my words, but I can’t. I only see the humor in the situation. “I am six months pregnant, recently separated from a man who could be the poster child for infidelity, and I’m going through what I like to think of as my I hate men stage.”
He cocks his head. “Some men treat their women abominably. I’m sorry your husband was too blind to see the gift he had in you.”
“Gift?” I reach into the cooler beside me and take out a soda. I offer him one, but he shakes his head.
“You should be drinking water or juice.”
Keeping one eye on my sons and one on Michael, I ask sarcastically, “So what, you’re a doctor?”
He smiles, revealing gleaming white teeth. “I’m not an obstetrician, but I am a family practitioner. Sunday is the only day I have off and is why you saw me at the market and now here.” He pauses for a moment before picking the conversation we were having back up, and in that moment I am left feeling like an ass. “You are obviously very passionate.”
I snort on my soda. “Very passionate, if screaming is considered passion.”
“It sounds like you had every reason to be upset, but yes, screaming is an outlet for passion. A passionate person has a fire in their gut that has to be released one way or another. Screaming, fighting, laughing. Of course, a better release is through sensual experiences. Orgasm.”
I find myself blushing and turning to look in the opposite direction. I’m still standing, he’s still sitting, and it appears he has no intention of leaving. I watch Tom carry bucketfuls of water from the surf to a hole he’s dug. When he looks up, I wave.
“Suppressed passion can lead to anger issues and bitterness. Pray that you do not become bitter, beautiful woman.”
I spin around, frustrated. “Please stop calling me Beautiful Woman.”
Michael leans toward me. “Then tell me your name.”
I release a long sigh, trying to decide if I should or shouldn’t tell him my name. I look around me, dozens of people surround us and the resort complex is directly behind me. I feel safe, but maybe my danger radar is broken. I go with my instincts. His eyes look kind. “Emma.”
“You have a hole in your aura, Emma.”
Sitting, I snicker. “Sounds a little new age for a family practitioner.”
He laughs. “Yes, but you are on the islands now. Modern medicine and folk-healing go hand in hand here. I would have few patients if I didn’t also practice the old ways.”
Mick brings me a shell. “That’s beautiful, honey. Are you going to decorate your sand castle with it?”
Mick nods and looks shyly at Michael before running back to his brothers.
“Let me heal you, Emma,” Michael says softly.
And there it is—his sales pitch, because I knew it was coming—and just when I was warming up to him. “So this hole in my aura is going to cost me how much to fix?”
“So cynical, Emma.” He shakes his head and looks disappointed.
I challenge, “Don’t you dare look at me like that. Your island made me this way. As soon as I walked out of my hotel room people started trying to sell me trinkets, braid my hair, talk me into going to their brother, sister, cousin’s restaurant somewhere on the island.”
He laughs out loud. “That is the commercial side of Jamaica. People feed their families on the money they earn from tourists. I promise, I don’t want your money. I do want to know what has made you so jaded, and you were that long before you arrived here.”
I shake my head. “I warned you I’m one mean lady. You should be running and screaming right now before I ruin your life too.”
“You cannot harm me, Emma, you aren’t that powerful.”
Why do men keep saying that to me? It’s one of Jameson’s favorite lines when we are fighting, but the way Michael says it gets my attention. He isn’t talking about muscle or manipulation. I shiver, feeling his power. Maybe I’m imagining it but Michael has a different kind of strength. Charisma. Magic. I look away, island folklore about voodoo and black magic getting to me.
He goes back to the subject. “Who hurt you so badly? Who abandoned you?”
Sudden tears pool in my eyes and I wipe my face quickly with a beach towel, blaming blowing sand, though there is barely even a breeze. “I threw my husband out.”
Michael shakes his head. “Not a husband, someone else. Mother? Father? Brother? Uncle?”
I drop my chin, ashamed he could read me so easily. I hadn’t thought about her in years. No, that isn’t true. She enters my thoughts every day. I wonder how she is, what she’s doing, how she’s changed. I just don’t dwell on how much I miss her any more. I whisper, “Sister. Half-sister, actually. I haven’t seen her in a very long time.”
Why am I telling him this? Jameson doesn’t even know she exists.
“She was older when I was born and gone by the time I was six, but the years in the middle she seemed like a mother to me.”
“You haven’t seen her since?”
“Oh, she breezed in and out of my life, never staying constant, until I measured the distance between her appearances in years. We’re going on more than a decade now. She could be dead for all I know.”
Michael nods like I’ve only confirmed something he already knew. He sits beside me in silence, both of us watching the boys play in the sand. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence like it perhaps should be. It feels as if we’ve known each other forever and words aren’t as important anymore.
Whether it has been minutes or hours, I’m really not certain. What I do know is we’ve been too long at the beach when the boys’ play turns rough and suddenly Tom and Mick are rolling in the sand pounding on each other. I shout, “Stop that!” as I push out of my chair, but Michael is already on his feet and separating them.
He says, “Now, now, boys. This isn’t necessary.”
“He knocked down my tower!”
“Did not, you knocked down your own tower by trying to make it too tall.”
“Get your things together,” I tell them. “We’re done at the beach.”
Three sets of lungs wail in unison. “No!”
“You should have thought about that before you hit each other.” I stalk back to home base and start collecting towels and lotion.
Having followed me back to our base set-up, Michael lends a hand. “I didn’t mean to interfere. It was just reflex. I’m the oldest of twelve and was always breaking up fights.”
I fold a towel and stand there, stunned, holding the towel against my baby hump. “Twelve? Wow. I don’t know whether to feel s
orry for your mother or thrilled for her.”
He smiles. “Be thrilled. She loves her family.”
Smiling, I bend to keep collecting beach paraphernalia, not really certain how we made it from our hotel room in one trip. I am loaded down with towels and totes, and blown-up rubber animals when Michael takes my face in his hands and forces me to meet his gaze. “You and the boys join me for dinner tonight. Please?”
There is something in his eyes, some magic, utterly mesmerizing in its intensity, that makes me nod. Once I realize I have agreed, I can’t believe I did, but also don’t regret it. His smile rivals the brightness of the sun, and he immediately relieves me of the ice and beverage filled cooler, leaving me holding only towels and toys.
“I know you value your privacy so I will assist you as far as the lobby.”
“Thank you.” I call the boys and start walking, expecting them to follow me. They do, but it is very nice when Michael pulls up the rear. It’s strange. I feel like he is watching out for them, for me. I don’t silence the small voice in my head reminding me he is a total stranger and everything he’s told me to this point could be a lie.
I can’t wait to get to my room so I can go online and find out what I can about him.
Chapter 40
Jameson
Several weeks have passed since Bianca moved in, and from my perspective, it seems she and my wife have become best friends. There are times, like this morning, if I am being honest with myself, that I feel completely left out. From the bedroom, I watch Hiroko and Bianca soak in the hot tub.
Spying? Yes. I should feel guilty for trying to get a glimmer into the private, mysterious world of women. I should also feel guilty for thrusting Bianca into Hiroko’s life so suddenly, without warning, except that Hiroko seems pleased that she is here. I expected some strife…anger, jealousy…and that there is none seems a strange calm, like we should be on the lookout for a tsunami.
Their talk is whispers and giggles. My wife seems younger and more carefree than she has been in years, although I do not even remember a time when Hiroko was ever truly relaxed and at ease. That, it seems, is the gift Bianca is solely responsible for.
“No!”
I jerk, hearing the loud voice from the hot tub. I stand, ready to race outside, ready to break-up the impending catfight.
“I won’t even consider it!” Bianca stands, water cascading over her curves, steam rising from her shoulders. The air is cool today. It seems autumn arrived while we were sleeping.
I remain at the doorway, holding myself back, waiting patiently to see if the trouble escalates, or calms of its own accord.
Bianca gasps. “What did you say?”
I open the door and step out onto the wooden deck that extends off the back of the house in time to see Bianca pull Hiroko into her arms. Both women are laughing and smiling. I start to back away, hoping to remain unnoticed, knowing that I will never understand the language of women.
“Bishop!” Bianca calls out to me. “Come, we have wonderful news!”
I tilt my head, seeing on a closer look that Hiroko has dropped her head and is blushing. Wonderful news? I haven’t seen that look on Hiroko’s face since she announced she was pregnant and that possibility isn’t even a remote one, so as I approach the women, it is with some trepidation as to what could be worse than that.
“News?” I ask.
“Bianca is going on a world tour,” Hiroko announces to which the woman in question gives her a long sideways glance.
Bianca corrects, “I’m going on a very small tour, a few exclusive, very small US venues. Bebé…Older, Wiser, and Unplugged. And if it goes well, then maybe Europe, definitely Japan.”
I lift my brow, shocked and not sure what to say, because I’m fairly certain that this came about at Hiroko’s instigation. If she has arranged this merely as a scheme to get rid of Bianca I would be angry and more than a little surprised by such unexpectedly out of character behavior.
“What do you think?” Bianca asks, smiling, but carefully smiling, like she isn’t one-hundred percent convinced that this is a good decision.
“If this is what you want, I think you will be very well-received. You couldn’t have planned any better for the staging of your comeback. Bebé has been a news headliner for weeks.”
She tilts her head and guesses my enthusiasm level. “You’re not happy with the decision.”
I lower my coffee cup to rest on the ledge of the hot tub and lean forward, kissing the center of her forehead. “It’s not that I’m displeased. I was just getting used to having you around, and now you will be going. I will miss you.”
She looks shocked and then tries to laugh away the tension with a short staccato laugh. “You won’t have to miss me.”
“That’s the other part of the wonderful news.”
“I’m not following.”
“Hiroko and your children are my biggest fans. Both have been instrumental in my making this decision, but I couldn’t have decided on this course if Hiroko hadn’t agreed to her part.”
I am even more confused. “Hiroko’s part?”
“Hiroko is going to be my manager. She’s going to be going on the road with me, and my tour is going to hit the major cities in which you do business. So, really, we just want to stalk you and now we have an excuse to follow you from town to town, but don’t worry, you won’t even know we’re around. We won’t interrupt your business day at all.”
“Absolutely not!” I bark and storm back into the house. Of course, I regret my outburst immediately. But there are just so many arguments that this is a bad idea, best to not allow it motion.
I close my eyes, wanting to forget the crushed expression on Hiroko’s face, but she will get over this disappointment, and I will have to make sure that Bianca doesn’t put such foolish notions in her head again.
“What was that?” Bianca screams. She stands in the doorway dripping. “Do you realize what you just did to your wife? To me? Do you even care?”
I pivot, ready to do battle, but I see her and she is so gloriously righteous, and also ready to do battle. She doesn’t realize that it is my turn for rebuttal…and keeps screaming. “How dare you keep your wife a prisoner here!”
“What?” I exclaim. “Hiroko isn’t a prisoner.”
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to make issue that she is, and I think you will agree a little travel might be good for her.”
“A little travel? You’re talking about going on the road for an extended period. The travel would be too difficult for her. I don’t know what has gotten into either of you to believe that she can handle flight delays, tour buses, hotel food.”
“Please,” she says, her tone less accusatory and more sarcastic. “Your jet has all the amenities that money can buy. She’ll be no more uncomfortable for the travel portions than if she were sitting behind her office desk all day as she has for the last decade. And I think you missed the part about it being small and exclusive. Six cities, a dozen engagements, over a six week spread. Tokyo, which I don’t even have to leave town for, London and Edinburgh, which I can do from the London house, which if you’ve forgotten, you actually bought for Hiroko’s pleasure. Or at least that’s what you told me. So, I know you won’t deny that particular trip. Chicago, because you have business there in a few weeks, and I can do both the Windy City and Minneapolis from your hotel suite, and having seen exactly how you live away from home, I know she’ll probably be even more comfortable and pampered there than here. Potentially I could even do several sets in New York, since you have a penthouse there, but we’ll see how long you stay in Chicago. And then Los Angeles, which you are traveling to immediately after Chicago, and I could do venues at LA and San Francisco.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this for someone who doesn’t want to tour.”
She laughs. “No, you have that wrong. Hiroko put a lot of work into this. Please,” she says softly, “come outside and let’s talk about this. I’m dripping on the ta
tami.”
I laugh. “Do you think I care about the rug? My wife is an invalid.”
She crosses the mat in an angry blur and slaps me. “How dare you! Your wife was no invalid when you bound her in your rope. Your wife was no invalid when you wished for her to dance.”
I grab her fists as they come down on my chest, and restrain her with my arms while she berates me as only a westerner can. I am destroyed when she is done with her verbal attack. I hold her against me as she sobs. My heart anguished, I whisper, “You love her.”
“Yes,” she says, slumping in my arms. “I love her, I love you, I love your family, and I’d hoped that I was becoming a part of this family, but today… Damn it, Bishop, you’re an ass sometimes.”
I turn her in my arms and make her accept my gaze as I look into her eyes even though she doesn’t want to. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m an ass, but I also know what is best for my wife.”
She shrugs. “I’m sure you won’t be offended that I disagree.”
We stare at each other, neither willing to give as her anger and my stubbornness roll over each other in a silent battle.
Hiroko appears in the doorway, dry, kimonoed, and looking very serene. She bows her head before entering. Bianca struggles against the bondage of my arms.
“When you two are finished with your discussion, I have something I would like to say.” She walks slowly across the room and sits on the edge of the bed.
Bianca sighs, relaxing in my arms. I sigh, releasing my hold only slightly. “Please speak freely, obviously you have a stake in whatever decisions are made today.”
“As Bianca said, she has fought against the idea of this tour, but I think it is something her soul needs, for her healing, and so she agreed, on the condition that I go with her, as her manager. I fought as hard with her against my going as you now fight for me, but inside my heart the battle was already lost, because I was excited about the possibility. We bear that in common, fear and excitement. We all know this will be a difficult journey for me, but so was the path I took when I conceived. I knew the risks, I knew my condition could deteriorate rapidly, and we prepared for all of the eventualities. Would I be any less careless undertaking the biggest adventure of my life?”