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Island Recess, Chapter 17.
The cabbie stared at Helena in amazement as she burst, flushed-faced and sweaty
into his line of vision.
“Didn’t I just drop you off?” he began in a querulous voice. Her recent
overpayment still protruded from his shirt pocket. Guiltily, he shielded it by
crossing his arms over his chest.
Ignorant of his maneuver, Helena waved a crumpled bill in her clenched hand, and
panted out a new proposition.
“I’ll double your fare if you can get me to the ferry in ten.”
Confident that she had overlooked the matter of his having earlier failed to
provide change, the cabbie happily obliged, flooring the gas pedal before the
passenger door was fully closed.
Threading through traffic like a NASCAR contender, the old Nissan sent Helena
sliding across the cracked vinyl seats. Her knuckles were white as she first
silently willed him on, then snapped, in an uncharacteristically taut voice,
“Can’t we go any faster?”
The driver obliged with enthusiasm, and the ancient car jumped ahead with an
intestinal-sounding burst of speed. As the car slowed to navigate around a herd
of slow-moving pedestrians, Helena thrust her hand in her backpack, extracted
another bill and urgently tapped the driver’s shoulder.
“Here’s fine,” she said, struggling to keep the rising urgency from her voice.
“Okay, Miss,” he said, tapping the bill of his baseball cap and pocketing the
money. “Looks like you’ll make the next sailing if you hurry.”
“Thank you!” she called back over her shoulder as she broke into a run, her
backpack bouncing awkwardly against her shoulder.
“Wait! Please wait” she called, seeing the ticket-seller ushering the last of
the passengers up the ramp to the vessel. Taking in Helena’s crumpled appearance
with a sympathetic glance, the ferry-worker waved her forward. “Thank you!” she
cried out, as she pounded up the gangway and swung into the nearest available
seat.
The ride back to St. Cruz passed in a blur. Her heart beating a rapid tattoo in
accompaniment to her fluctuating emotions, Helena fought for control. What to do
next? Call Julie, certainly. She would be heading out to the airport this
evening to meet Helena’s plane. And then? No strategy or game plan presented
itself in glowing marquee lights. She would have to take each step as it came.
Scarcely had the gangplank been lowered, when Helena found herself again in
front of the line of public telephones, dialing Julie’s number.
Without divulging the impulsive twist of events that had brought her back to St.
John, Helena informed her friend that she intended to prolong her stay in the
islands. To her surprise, Julie seemed entirely unruffled.
“Where‘s the fire? Stay! The islands, and other things, sound perfectly
gorgeous, and now that Karl’s out of the way, you‘re finally sounding like
yourself again. Stay and enjoy yourself until you have to come back,” came the
reassuring voice. Then adding, almost as an afterthought, “What‘s happening with
Mr. Streep-slash-Peters, by the way? Did the mystery ever get solved?” Without
waiting for a response, Julie sighed heavily, and answered for her, “You sounded
so in love the last time we talked, so he must be good for you. I’m sure there’s
an explanation that makes sense, so if he gives you one and your heart says
’yes’ run with it.”
Helena agreed, baffled by the fact that everyone but her seemed to be
acknowledging,- no, encouraging, her romantic involvement. Hanging up the phone,
she began searching her backpack for available funds. Only a crumpled ten dollar
bill remained. Was it enough? She looked about for a bank machine, but saw none
in the immediate vicinity. Deciding on chance and impulse as a course of action,
Helena flagged down a passing yellow cab. Over the booming stereo, she managed
to communicate her destination. Glancing about and seeing an absence of
prospective customers in the near vicinity, the driver agreed, with a great show
of reluctance, to drive her as far as Coral Bay.
“No farther, and one-way only,” he asserted, as if the matter were up for
argument.
Helen had already clamored into the backseat and sat, drumming her fingers
against the window, as she waited for the driver to put the car in gear.
It seemed to Helena as if the afternoon had assumed a cinematic glow. The lush
flowers and thick, waxen leaves of the foliage lining the roadside seemed
unnaturally bright, the waves of the ocean to their right tipped with dancing
points of light. Even the late afternoon air seemed to spill a heady tropical
perfume. Rapturous, Helena closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
Coral Bay was already back-lit by a rose-red sky when they pulled up to the
dock. Accepting the limp bill with the air of having conveyed a great favor, the
cab driver maneuvered the car swiftly back up the hill and disappeared in a
squeal of tires. Helena found herself standing alone on a creaking dock, gazing
at the spot where once the Odyssey had bobbed jauntily on the waves. In its
place, the majestic Last Chance swayed provocatively in the light wind. Raising
her hand to her cheek, Helena was surprised to find her face wet with tears. A
sob caught in her throat as she sank dejectedly to the dock. The color seemed to
seep from the sunset as though fading to black and white. Ignorant of a
potential audience, Helena began to cry unguardedly, allowing tears of
frustration to scorch her eyes and steal her breath. She responded with a cry of
alarm when she felt a hand at her shoulder. Turning, she saw an elderly man in a
rakishly-angled baseball cap and cut-off blue jeans regarding her with a look of
concern. Suddenly, his eyes brightened with recognition.
“Hey, you’re the girl who was out here with young what’s-his-name: the one with
the Odyssey. I’m afraid you’re too late, just missed him.”
Helena gave him a rueful glance. “I know,” she said in a dismal voice. She cast
her eyes downward, and gazed sadly at her toes, which appeared to have become
immersed in the water without her knowledge.
He glanced at her for a moment, forehead wrinkling in a fatherly manner. “No
need to cry now, young lady, he’s only just over on St. Thomas. Seems the folks
who were looking after Morris had to make an emergency run over there on account
of a the wife needing some dental work. When they couldn’t round up your fellow
in time, they took the mutt along for the ride. Your fellow’s over there now,
picking up Morris. He said he was going to surprise you at the airport while he
was over there.” The old man looked at Helena’s reddened face and chuckled wryly
as he patted her arm. “Looks like he’s the one in for a surprise now, doesn’t
it?”
Helena, not currently equipped for even gentle teasing, was on the verge of a
fresh round of tears, and barely missed the old man’s offer. “Would I like to do
what?” she inquired in a quavering voice.
“Would you like me to run you over there, to St. Thomas?” Scratching his
nut-brown belly, the man introduced himself as “Cap’n Phil” and indicated a
sleek and expensive looking powerboat. Helena nodded slowly, as the words going
to surprise you at the airport belatedly permeated the fog of her distress.
Helena accepted Captain Phil’s gallant and unnecessarily hands-on assistance
climbing into his jaunty speedboat. As the motor roared to life, the Captain
made a motion with his hand as if to indicate a line of trajectory connecting
the two islands. Then he winked at Helena, and pushed down the throttle. The
boat leapt forward, driving through the waves and picking up speed as the old
man maneuvered recklessly around everything standing in his way. Helena’s
kidneys jarred with every skip of the boat, but it seemed Captain Phil was born
to speed, and he cackled gleefully as he steered with one casual hand on the
wheel, and one eye on Helena’s bare brown legs. Though she yearned to close her
eyes, as if doing so would ward off a possible collision, she kept them open and
fixed on the approaching shore. The lights of the city were bobbing specks on
the dark water and she searched the shoreline for the Odyssey. In the fading
daylight, all she could make out were a profusion of masts and bobbing hulls. As
she glanced in Captain Phil’s direction, she saw him shrug and shake his head.
She realized he was trying to communicate to her.
“Taking you into shore!” was all she could catch over the noise of the motor.
The wind whipped her hair against her mouth, and all Helena could do was nod
vigorously in response. As Captain Phil eased back on the throttle, the small
craft carved a smooth arc and purred toward a tilting dock.
With the assistance of a gallantly-proffered hand, Helena stepped from the
speedboat and onto the shifting planks. The waves sloshed over the docks,
casting cool spray against her bare calves. For a moment she hesitated, watching
the Captain cast off his line and ease the boat back into the surf. Waving
furiously, and calling out her thanks, Helena turned as boat and Captain
maneuvered recklessly around a slow-moving barge and vanished into the dusk.
Peering through the darkness, she tried once more to locate the Odyssey, but in
the dim light, could see no more than vague shapes bobbing in the water.
Suddenly, it struck her that she had no plan, no cash, and that she was standing
alone in the dark in an area of town that could prove dangerous to an
unaccompanied female. Breaking into a slow and purposeful jog, she headed toward
a brightly lit row of restaurants, outside of which clusters of prospective
patrons jostled for entrance. Perhaps here, she would find someone who knew
Neil’s whereabouts.
Standing on tiptoe, Helena tried to get a good look at the slow-moving throng of
pedestrians clogging the cobbled walkways. Her heart sunk as her surveillance
yielded no results. Sighing, she began walking, ensuring for her own safety that
she remained near the most heavily-populated section of the sidewalk. Suddenly,
the possibility of meeting up with Neil in such a crowded city seemed impossibly
remote. Stopping for a moment, she glanced around her. Pedestrians flowed past
her like spawning salmon. It seemed as if everyone, young and old, had found a
suitable mate, and were clinched together in happy union, compatible as salt and
pepper shakers. The lights of the nearby bars grew fuzzy and blended together as
she gazed helplessly about her. Laughter floating in gusts on the wind seemed to
mock her further, and frustrated tears filled her eyes. Fighting the rising lump
in her throat, Helena turned once more toward the water, and the sparkling
lights of the many unfamiliar boats riding the gentle night swells. Suddenly,
something struck the back of her legs and she tumbled forward, falling face-down
on the cobblestone walkway.
For a moment, she lay still, heart pounding, pain coursing through her joints.
She raised a smarting palm to her cheek and felt the wetness she was certain
indicated extensive blood loss. Then, the source of the wetness made itself
known with a moist snort and sweep of a rough tongue. Pushing herself painfully
to a sitting position, Helena found herself nose to nose with a familiar canine.
“Morris!” she shrieked, wrapping her arms about the delighted dog. Ignoring the
pedestrians picking their way irritably around the obstruction, she sat,
cradling the dog in her arms. At the sound of her name, she half-turned. “Neil!”
she cried, leaping to her feet to throw her arms around Neil’s neck.
“I’ve been looking for you all day,” he murmured against her ear, before pulling
back to cup her face in his hands. “Where on earth have you been?”
“Looking for you,” said Helena, with an ironic smile.
Neil shook his head in apparent confusion. “This afternoon, I left messages for
you at the school and at the apartment. I said that I’d have to come over to St.
Thomas to pick up Morris, but that I’d meet you at the airport. I asked you to
wait for me, and then, like a fool, I was late. The ticket agent told me you’d
boarded the plane, but that she’d seen you a few minutes later, running back
through the airport. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
Helena sighed deeply, as the unnecessary stress and worry of the day melted
away. Nodding in agreement, she added her own piece to Neil’s explanation.
“I haven’t been by Ben’s or the school since this morning. I would never have
known of your change in plans if I hadn’t gone down to Cruz Bay. ‘Capt’n Phil’
told me you were in St. Thomas but I didn’t have a clue where to start looking.”
She laughed ruefully, “I was running out of plots and steam as well. It was
about high time Morris knocked the sense back into me!”
Neil smiled as he kissed Helena tenderly. His look turned to one of concern as
he surveyed Helena’s bruised and scraped knees and hands. Helping her to a
nearby bench, he squatted before her, brushing the dirt from her scrapes and
dabbing at the trickles of blood. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
Then, Neil looked up at Helena, reaching his free hand toward her and tilting
her chin so that they were eye to eye. She started to speak, but he held a
finger to her lips.
“We never had our moonlit sail. I believe that I owe you that much, at least.”
He rose to standing, extending a hand to her. As if on command, Morris stood
with a disgruntled sigh and looked up at Helena. A smile playing about her lips,
she rose, and twining her fingers with Neil’s, reached for Morris’ leash. In the
company of her two favourite males, she walked the short distance to the dock
where the Odyssey tugged at the lines, eager for freedom. Handing Morris’ lead
to Neil, and gently releasing her hand from his, Helena stepped lightly onto the
sailboat’s main deck. Her smile, as she turned to face him, was dazzling, and as
if mesmerized he stood for a moment and simply stared. Then, he knelt, gathered
the awkward bundle that was Morris into his arms, and lifted and pushed until
the canine joined Helena and dropped immediately into a prone position. Neil
took a few steps back, gazing from stem to stern of his boat and its occupants,
as if seeing all for the first time. Both hands to his head, he pulled his
fingers through his hair and then stood, arms fanned out to either side, smile
so fixed on his head it looked to be permanent. Behind him, the setting sun was
luminous, a brilliant orange ball slipping gently into the water, leaving in its
wake a wash of purples and pinks that cast a rosy glow over the entire town.
Suddenly, Neil whooped, a joyous sound that sent Morris and Helena into a chorus
of happy barking and laughter. Then, he stepped back and jumped onto the
Odyssey’s main deck, landing by Helena, and sweeping her into wide-open arms.
Raining tender kisses on her face and neck, he moved a hand through her hair,
the other holding her tightly against his body. Her mouth captive, she sank
under the caress of his tongue and lips, responding to his touch with a greed
that was all her own. Pulling back slightly, he planted a long kiss on her
forehead, and then stepped back, eyes sparkling.
“Your captain is at your command, Miss. Where to this fine evening?”
Helena pretended to ponder the question, a pensive finger to her lip, and then
nodded as if in agreement with her own decision.
“I think north, Captain. I hear St. Barth’s is quite lovely this time of year.”
“A fine choice, Miss. We shall reach our destination by nightfall tomorrow. Some
music to start our journey?”
“Please, Captain.”
Neil executed a smart turn and ran lightly along the deck, dropping below and
disappearing from view.
Helena walked slowly along the top deck, leading a drowsy Morris along the
lifelines and coaxing him to follow as she stepped down into the cockpit. With a
resounding thump, the canine dropped after her, and was promptly assisted by
Helena into a specially designed doggie life-vest whose tether she attached to
one of the cleats. Within minutes, Neil had reappeared. The sexy sway of a Latin
mambo wafted onto the sultry night air, and it seemed the Odyssey danced with
the beat as Neil untied the lines and motored leisurely away from the dock. As
the waves washed the hull, and the sailboat began to dive playfully through the
surf, Neil cut the engine and began raising the sails. As the mainsheet caught
and held the wind, the Odyssey surged forward, cutting through the water with
effortless grace. Neil steered, hand held so lightly on the tiller that he was
doing little more than caressing the wood, as the perfectly balanced boat
travelled a near-straight path through the white-capped waves. While Neil and
Helena had exchanged few words, many meaningful looks had passed between them,
and more than a few mutual caresses. As she watched Neil attach the autopilot to
the tiller, allowing the Odyssey to steer herself, Helena knew the time for talk
had come.
Helena held her breath, heart pounding as she waited for one of them to make the
first move. To her surprise, it was she.
“Neil,” she began softly, “I want to apologize.” She put up her hand as he began
to protest. “It wasn’t fair of me to go nosing around and making assumptions
without asking you directly for answers. It would be easy for me to blame my
situation with Karl for my having so little faith in you.” Neil nodded a
vigorous assent, as Helena continued. “But the truth is I was the one to blame.
I was, I am, in love with you, and that should have been enough.”
Neil touched a finger to her lips, as he began speaking.
“Helena, I feel I’m just as much to blame, if not more. I should have told you
about my problems with the Scarpelli family, and about my current alias. With
everything that was going on with Karl, I didn’t want to burden you with
anything else and, selfishly, I admit, I didn’t want to scare you off.
Ironically, it seems my not telling you, cost me more than coming clean right at
the start.”
His eyes were sad as he stroked her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Helena. I wish I’d
done things differently. I wish….”
Helena took his hand in hers as she shushed him, then spoke softly, making a
simple proposition.
“Let’s try it again.”
Neil looked up, his eyes cobalt under the glow of the streetlights.
“I don’t care if you don’t have a dime. I can teach, and you can do carpentry,
and between the two of us, we’ll get by just fine. I love you, Neil Peters, not
a million dollar business, or a fancy home, or even a very nice boat. You’re
what I want.”
Helena’s face was hot as she paused, heart pounding, waiting for his response.
After a moment, he chuckled. Helena looked up in surprise.
“All this time,” he said, “All I wanted was for someone to look through the Ivy
League education, profitable business, and trappings of success and see me, not
a meal ticket. When I came down here, with not much more than the shirt on my
back, I thought I finally had a chance to just be me. Then, I found the woman of
my dreams: you. Here you were, this amazing, loving human being who’d been
through so much, and yet had so much to give. I watched you with your students,
with Ben, with my friends, and with total strangers, and what I saw was this
wonderful ability you have to care for others, to make them feel special, to
make them feel loved. It was a dream, and I thought everything was perfect until
the afternoon of our picnic, when you seemed so shocked that I had been left
with nothing after my run-in with the Scarpelli‘s.”
Helena began to protest, but Neil interrupted, shaking his head and smiling.
“At first, I was very upset. It was as if I saw you as another Caroline: an
opportunistic gold-digger, focussing on how little I had. I replayed our
conversation over and over until I realized that maybe your intentions were
different from my perceptions. I began thinking about my feelings for you, and
realized that you had done nothing to warrant my sudden shift in emotions. I
realized what I already knew: I loved, I mean, I love you. That’s why I asked if
you would meet me one more time.”
Tears sparkled in Helena’s eyes as she hastened to reassure Neil.
“My only fear was that you would turn out to be another Karl: a manipulator with
a criminal past. I never cared about your money, or lack of it.” Her words
trailed off as she recalled with an almost physical shock, the mystery of the
thick roll of bills she had uncovered in Neil’s medicine cabinet.
As if reading her mind, Neil began speaking.
“The funny thing, Helena, is that I do have money, and all of it gained by
honest means. When we first started the business, I took some of the cash
proceeds from our first few transactions and put them away in our home safe. It
seemed a bit silly at the time, but a year or so later, when I was forced to
leave the country on a day’s notice, it came in handy. I made one stop before
leaving the mainland: at my parent’s home. I drove all night to make my
delivery, and asked my father to put the money aside for safe keeping. He did
better than put it aside, he invested it for me. The timing was just right,
stock in tech companies was still reasonable, and a few months later, when it
skyrocketed, he sold. I made a decent sum of money, Helena, not enough for a
lifestyle of mansions and polo ponies, but enough for a home, for a couple of
kids, and a couple of college educations, and certainly enough for an extended
holiday.”
Helena looked at him in amazement. Speechless for a moment, she felt her jaw
working noiselessly. Then, she spoke softly,
“Well, where would you like to go on this extended holiday?”
“You mean after St. Barth’s? Anywhere with you,” came the quick response. He
paused for a moment, head tilted as he regarded Helena with smiling eyes. “We
could start with Seattle. I’d like to meet your friends and your family. Then,
we could go back east to see my folks.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe then, we
could find somewhere suitable to formalize our relationship.” Neil paused for a
minute as he took Helena’s hands gently in his.
Helena’s smile widened as she waited, holding his gaze with her brown eyes. A
slumbering Morris lifted his head from her feet and he, too, seemed to freeze in
anticipation.
All around them, the stars winked and shone in the velvety pitch of the late
evening sky. The moon overhead was full and bright, casting a soft glow on
Helena’s upturned face. Waves breaking under the hull made little more than a
soft splash and she held her breath as the still of the night seemed to swallow
up all sound but the beating of her heart.
Neil slipped from the bench and knelt at her feet on the floor of the cockpit.
Morris grumbled as he shifted to make way for his owner, and then subsided into
a snoring heap on Helena’s left shoe.
Clearing his throat, Neil raised Helena’s hands to his lips. In the bright
moonlight, she saw him wink at her as he cupped her hands in his.
“Helena, I’ve loved you from the moment I caught you hiding below the window of
your classroom, pretending not to notice me. I certainly lusted for you after
catching you sunbathing in the nude and disturbing the peace of our nesting
birds. Miss Helena Travis, I promise to love and lust after you all the days of
our lives. And, if you’ll have a crusty old bachelor, I know one who’d have a
feisty schoolmarm.”
“Just try to stop me,” Helena laughed, taking his face in her hands, and
caressing it tenderly with her fingertips.
“There’s only one thing,” he continued, with a twinkle in his eyes, ”Perhaps
under the circumstances, it would be better if the bachelor were to become a
Travis, rather than a Travis becoming a Peters.”
Helena put a finger to her lips and frowned, feigning great concentration. Then,
she slipped off the bench and onto Neil’s lap, wrapping her arms tightly about
his neck and laying her cheek against his.
“Neil and Helena Travis,” she mused, “I certainly like the sound of that.”
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