Page 69 of That Birthday in Barbados
I wake to the sound of someone in the room. I raise up on one elbow and see Anders in the doorway.
“Come back to bed,” I say.
“I’m a little sweaty,” he says and starts to peel off his shirt. “I better get a shower first.”
“One condition,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“Take me with you.”
The look that crosses his face fills me with a power I have never in my life known. I see the effect I have on him, and I don’t know that anything has ever made me happier.
He walks over to the bed, leans down and scoops me up. “No point in wasting good water,” he says.
Chapter Thirty-three
“There is no instinct like that of the heart.”
?Lord Byron
Anders
WE SPEND EVERY available minute of the next few days together. Along with the time we spend alone in my house, cooking, swimming and making love, I resolve to find something new to show her every day, a hike on the rugged East Coast with incredible views, a visit to the Wildlife Reserve in St. Peter to see the Green Monkeys during feeding time.
One afternoon, I make a picnic with the food I have on hand, some tomatoes and a loaf of bread I’d bought at a local bakery yesterday. I add cheese and fruit to the basket.
We load chairs and towels into the back of the Defender and head out for a beach I love going to. It’s public but isn’t well known, and I’ve wanted to show it to her. It’s a twenty minute or so drive from my house, and we take the curvy roads with one of my favorite playlists from class blasting, the windows down.
The sky is so cloudless it almost looks fake as a backdrop to a bright yellow sun. I take my sunglasses off because I want to absorb all of its beauty, and then I glance at Catherine. Her head rests against the seat, and she’s staring out the window at the island passing by, a look of contentment on her face that makes me happy thatI might beresponsible for putting it there.
It’s tempting to let myself think past the here and now, wonder what lies beyond last night and today. But I’m not going to. I’m going to do what I’ve been doing for the past three years. Live the moment. Don’t ask for more. Don’t expect more.
As if she feels my thoughts, Catherine turns her head, looks directly at me. She places her hand over mine on the gearshift, squeezes once. And I don’t need any words. Her touch says exactly what I’m thinking, anyway.
*
WE’RE THE ONLY ones on the beach. Late morning on a weekday, we’ve lucked out. On the weekends, locals make their way here, but I’m glad we’ve found a time to have it to ourselves. The sand is white and smooth, no rocks visible anywhere. The water is clear for at least thirty feet out where it darkens as the bottom drops off.
“It’s so beautiful,” Catherine says, looking over her shoulder at me. She’s sitting at the edge of the water, her knees to her chest. Her hair is long and loose on her shoulders, and the look on her face is one of true appreciation that I have brought her here.
I sit down next to her, the gentle waves doing a lazy dance around our feet. “It’s peaceful,” I say. “The first time I came here, I felt like I’d discovered a piece of what heaven would look like.”
She rests her arms on her knees and studies me for a few moments. “You’ve shown me a life I didn’t believewas possible.”
“Ididn’t think it was possible until I didn’t have a choice not to go back to the life I was living.”
“Was it hard to walk away?”
I hear the wistful note in her voice, as if it is something she is trying to imagine,wantsto be able to imagine.
“No. By the time I felt like I had another chance to live, it wasn’t hard at all.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, please just say so.”
I shake my head, wait for her to go on.
“How did you get well?”
