Adam and Eva Read online

  “How is she?” Eva inquired, knowing that Lavona was not about to let her into the house to see for herself. Eva felt powerless to force the issue.

  Lavona shrugged a smooth round shoulder. “She is asleep now,” she answered with a noticeable lack of concern. She was dressed in a calico-print summer dress of a lightweight fabric. It was belted at the waist and clung in the moist heat to her womanly form.

  Eva took a deep breath and forged on. “Is her foot any better today?”

  “It’s only tunchy bite, you know. Not too bad.”

  Eva nodded vaguely, not sure of all she heard. She wondered if Diane thought it was “not too bad.” Children’s pain was usually a little more substantial than that. Eva couldn’t think of what else to say as she stood feeling foolish in front of Lavona.

  “Adam won’t come back for a time,” Lavona volunteered. Eva wasn’t going to ask where he was, but now she at least knew he wasn’t here with Lavona. Eva chose to pretend it wasn’t important.

  “Could you please just tell Diane that Eva was here? Tell her I went into St. Thomas, and I hope she’s feeling better.”

  Lavona nodded once, but Eva wasn’t all that sure that Diane would get the whole message.

  “Tell her I’ll visit another time.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Lavona agreed. And if Eva had anything else to say, it was just too bad since the door was then quietly closed on her.

  Eva felt anger welling up in her. Lavona’s attitude had been unbearable. And if it wasn’t for a genuine liking and concern for Diane, she’d never come near this house again.

  Turning away, Eva climbed into her Jeep and leisurely made her way into Cruz Bay to await the next ferry. She had no trouble whatsoever reversing her steps into Charlotte Amalie, and arrived feeling rather pleased with herself.

  Adam Maxwell might not think her independent, but he had no idea of the things she’d accomplished in the last two years of living almost on her own. It was true that her mother had insisted she move back home after she’d recovered from her personal shock, but she’d found the adage about never going home again true. She wanted and needed to establish her own place.

  For the almost nine years that she’d been married, Eva remained home, running the house and raising a daughter. She married Kevin right after high school, and it wasn’t until after she was totally on her own again that she’d taken a year’s certificate program at a local college, worked part-time, and thought of continuing college until she was qualified for a more demanding and interesting job. A person does what he or she has to do. She’d needed to prove she could take care of herself, take responsibility for her own life again.

  Eva resisted the urge to buy a map and armed with her camera and sunglasses, started from the farthest end of Charlotte Amalie, behind the Windward Passage Hotel, and slowly worked her way up the narrow cobbled streets. Old Dutch fort buildings had been converted into large open-air shops, peopled by local native citizens selling a variety of imported European goods, as well as the work of local artisans.

  Eva passed the Market Square, obviously used for the exchange and purchasing of fresh produce and dry goods. But today it was virtually empty except for a number of elderly citizens taking the afternoon sun and chatting among themselves. Eva took a number of pictures, wishing she could also capture on film the musical language. There were a number of narrow alleyways between Waterfront Highway and the main street with such names as Cutter’s Gade, International Plaza, Palm Passage, and Creque’s Alley West. In these passages were modern gift shops and cafés, small gardens, and fountains.

  Eva spent a leisurely time exploring the streets, ignoring the occasional catcalls from the local men coming on to a lone, young, attractive woman. But Eva was not flattered by the attention. It made her feel vulnerable and very unprepared. She’d never had anyone whistle after her in her life. It was definitely a unique experience.

  She passed a shop of beautifully hand-batiked cloth and wandered inside with the intention of purchasing a length of fabric for her mother and sisters-in-law. A friendly, soft-spoken saleswoman showed her around the bright, pleasant shop.

  Two young women, apparent tourists, were trying on lengths of fabric that were wrapped artfully around their thin, curvy bodies and secured by merely twisting and tucking the ends. Eva watched in curiosity. The finished garment looked pretty, comfortable, and alluring.

  “Would you like to try one?” the saleslady asked.

  “Oh no!” Eva laughed. “I couldn’t wear that! Where would I wear it?” she ended with a question. Perhaps the saleslady sensed she only needed a little persuasion.

  “Women all the time wear them here. Around the house, to a picnic or the beach. You wear to dance for your man, yes?” and then she laughed softly. She led a non-resisting Eva to a dressing room. “You try on. Very pretty on you.”

  Eva was passed a piece of pale blue cloth batiked with flowers in different shades of yellow. She held it up skeptically, not believing there was enough cloth here to keep her decently covered. But she wrapped it around and the saleslady showed her how to secure it. And it stayed.

  Eva was entranced by her changed appearance in front of a mirror. Her upper chest and shoulders were bare, but with her slender neck exposed by her short haircut, she was very surprised and pleased with the results. Chuckling nonetheless at the absurdity of it, Eva bought the java wrap, as it was called. She continued on her walk, reaching Creque’s Alley West by two o’clock in the afternoon. On impulse she purchased a pair of cute hair barrettes and a few children’s paperback books for Diane, thinking they would cheer her up. Then Eva stopped into L’Escargot restaurant and enjoyed a leisurely late lunch, people-watching and deciding on how to spend the rest of the day.

  For a time she walked along the dock front, taking pictures of the fishing boats and the impromptu stands where women and men sold fruit and vegetables such as yucca, mangoes, plantines, and sugar cane. The sun was shifting, starting its descent, and Eva was just thinking of taking a cab back to the ferry when she reached into her purse to discover her wallet was missing. Frantically she dug among the few things in her bag, but it wasn’t there. Luckily she still had her traveler’s checks, but the banks and stores were closed now and there was no place to cash one. In her mind she backtracked over the day, thinking that perhaps she’d left it somewhere. But she’d stopped at more than a dozen places, even arranging at one or two for things to be shipped back to the States. Eva gave up the attempt. Her only consolation was that there was only about twenty dollars in cash in the wallet and her driver’s license. But the money would have paid for a return taxi to Red Hook and the ferry ride back to Cruz Bay.

  Eva decided that the best thing to do was to walk the quarter mile or so to the police station and explain her situation. She was just a little past the post office when a car pulled up beside her.

  “Taxi, lady?” a voice asked.

  Eva didn’t turn her head. “No, thank you,” she said firmly, hoping she didn’t have much farther to go, as it was already getting dark.

  “Why you don’t let Deacon take you ’roun the island?”

  Eva stopped and looked into a familiar, smiling face. “Oh! Hello!”

  “Hello, lady. I told you you come back to St. Thomas. Why you not look up Deacon, eh?”

  Eva laughed. “I—I forgot,” she said. “How did you know it was me?” she now asked.

  He laughed. “Oh, Deacon always remember a pretty face. Where you go now? Not back to St. John yet?”

  Eva smiled in wry amusement. “Maybe not tonight at all! I lost my wallet somewhere with my money. I was just on my way to the police…”

  “Oh, you lucky lady. You don’t need police…you have Deacon!”

  “You don’t have to bother,” Eva said. “l’m sure the police will arrange something.”

  Deacon finally stepped out of the cab and stood in front of Eva with his indomitable smile on his dark face. He was only a few inches taller than Eva and fi
dgeted somewhat shyly in front of her.

  “I tell you what…there’s a bit of light left. I take you round St. Thomas fast. We go to Mountain Top and you taste daiquiris. St. Thomas very famous for rum drinks…”

  “But…I don’t really drink,” Eva tried to dissuade him. He was not discouraged and scoffed cheerfully at her.

  “Daiquiri very sweet drink, just for ladies. Perfect for you, yes?”

  When Eva tried to object again, he quietly raised a hand to silence her.

  “Then I take you to best place for island food. Afterward…if you really want, you can leave Deacon and return to St. John. My good friend Felix run ferry. He do me favor for lady.”

  “Eva…” Eva supplied, feeling odd just being called “lady.” She felt overwhelmed. She didn’t have a real reason to say no, except for an innate sense of caution that told her this man, despite his cheerfulness, was a complete stranger. It sounded like such fun, however, and after all, what were the immediate alternatives? The police station or checking into a hotel overnight. And she admitted she was not looking forward to dinner alone. This was her vacation, and she’d come to have a good time. So, why not?

  Deacon could probably see her resistance giving way, because he began to laugh softly and to nod in satisfaction.

  “All right…I’ll come.” Eva gave in, with just a trace of lingering hesitation. Deacon completely dispelled that last bit when he simply reached for her hand to formally shake it.

  “Good. You have good time! My name Deacon Butler, and I work for this company…” He pointed to the name carved in white letters on the side of the cab door. “And if anything go wrong, you call them. They get after Deacon, fast!”

  “And I’m Eva Duncan,” Eva said, accepting the hand he offered. She had to admit that it was kind of exciting to be on speaking terms with someone who lived here. She felt she’d gone a little beyond the realm of being just a tourist.

  Deacon Butler became the perfect gentleman, seating Eva next to him in the front of the cab, and cheerfully talking as he turned the car in another direction and began a climb into the mountainside overlooking Charlotte Amalie. At last they reached an airy tavern with a large semicircular bar. There was a tall, gaunt island man explaining the history of daiquiris as he blended a pitcherful for his audience. He spotted Deacon and nodded in greeting without missing a step in his preparations or a beat in his anecdote. Eva was shown to an end stool, and she and Deacon had tall glasses of banana daiquiris, which Eva decided didn’t taste alcoholic at all. But Deacon had to convince her that two was all she’d want.

  Next he quickly circled various neighborhoods and sections of the island. As it was finally getting totally dark, they came back to Charlotte Amalie to an area known as Savan, where Deacon himself lived. In the soft quiet of the night, Deacon and Eva walked through the narrow, hilly streets of simple, unpretentious homes. Always in the background Eva was aware of the beat of music, low and rhythmic with drums. It set up a cadence that she soon became familiar with.

  They stopped at a very small restaurant, again where Deacon obviously knew everyone. They were seated at a small, square Formica table. There were no tablecloths or mellow candles in the center of the table, and the napkins were paper. The silverware and plates were mismatched, but Eva relaxed entirely, knowing that she was going to experience a true part of island life…its unique and tasty cuisine.

  Eva let Deacon order everything, since he assured her he knew what she’d like. While they waited for their meal, he leaned across the table to talk to her.

  “So, what you think of my island, eh?”

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Eva assured him. “It’s been a lovely trip so far.”

  “I told you so. Island folks are nice people, yes?”

  “Yes.” Eva chuckled at his immodest statement. “But I don’t think I could live here all the time…” Eva grimaced at him.

  “Why not?”

  Eva shook her head ruefully. “It would be hard to get anything done. How can anyone think of work with a beach at hand all the time?”

  Deacon laughed softly in understanding. “Oh yes, you learn…or you don’t eat!”

  “Have you ever been to the States?”

  “No. Deacon lost without island. Too fast up there. I stay here and I be happy. You stay here, you be happy all the time, too!”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Oh yes. You marry Deacon, and you stay,” he said, grinning.

  Eva laughed at him, but she didn’t know how to respond to this second suggestion that she marry him. She was beginning to think he was more than half serious. “Are you looking for a wife?”

  “I look for very nice lady all the time.”

  “But what about all the available women right here? I’m sure there are some looking for a nice man to marry.”

  “Oh…I ask them, too!”

  “Well, don’t give up.” Eva smiled positively.

  “Aaaah! But I like you! You don’t want to marry me and live here forever?”

  Eva sighed in some exasperation at his persistence. He was rather a nice man. “I like you, too. And you’re…very charming. But, I—I’m not looking for a husband.”

  He clicked his teeth in a sound of remorse. “That too bad. I would be very good to you!”

  And Eva didn’t doubt that he would be in a simple, undemanding way, probably very much like Kevin. But she didn’t need that right now. Deacon, however, was not crushed by her gentle refusal.

  “Maybe you change your mind. If you do, you let Deacon know, okay?”

  Eva smiled warmly at him. “Okay,” she said, nodding.

  A number of dishes were placed before them, and Deacon began to identify and explain each one. There was one large whole red snapper that had been steamed. There was also a tureen of Kalaloo, a souplike dish with okra and conch, served with fungee balls. There were Johnny cakes, thick unleavened bread slightly sweet, and a jam made of guava to spread on it if one wanted. Yams and greens finished off the menu.

  In his musical voice Deacon gave some history of the various foods to Eva, who was busy experiencing the different new tastes and textures. The little restaurant did a brisk local business, as it seemed to be busy all evening long. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and Deacon was prompt in introducing Eva to his friends. She could never hope to remember all the names, but she was made to feel welcome.

  The food and music and friendly atmosphere lulled Eva into a comfortable complacent state of being. She felt in no particular rush to get back to St. John. She felt suddenly completely her own person, capable of making her own hours. There was no one she had to answer to. It was a bittersweet realization that made her only vaguely aware of the past and only mildly curious about the future.

  “You go to Carnival next week?” Deacon asked her over their warm cups of sugar tea.

  Eva frowned. “What Carnival?”

  “For Independence and Emancipation.”

  “Oh! You mean Fourth of July?”

  “No…no. July third is Emancipation Day from slavery by Denmark. July fifth is Independence Day.”

  “Well, isn’t it like July Fourth?” Eva asked, puzzled.

  “Almost. But we celebrate on the islands for whole week! Lots of music, reggae, lots of food and drink. On last day there is big parade.”

  “It sounds like fun.”

  Deacon nodded. “Everyone look forward to it. You see it, too.”

  “Oh, I hope so! I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Deacon knows everything that happen here.”

  “I guess you do. Will you see the Carnival, too?”

  “I come over one night to hear my nephew play in band. You meet me and you hear good island music.”

  Eva’s sense of security with the man allowed her to respond with enthusiasm. “Oh, I’d love to.”

  “Good, good.” Deacon beamed. “I come over next Thursday at six o’clock.”

  “I can meet you in Cruz Bay,”
Eva offered.

  “Fine. I bring my sister and her husband. You do not mind?”

  “Of course not. You can all tell me what I’m listening to.”

  “My nephew, Wallace, he also be Mocko Jumbi in parade on Friday.”

  “What’s Mocko…Jumbi, is it?” Eva frowned.

  “He man on long wooden legs. He like medicine man. Chase away bad spirits. Very important part of Carnival.”

  “I’m really looking forward to it. In the meantime I should start thinking about how I’m getting back to St. John tonight,” Eva said, remembering the time. At once Deacon was solicitous and stood up.

  “I take you to Red Hook. You get ferry with no trouble.”

  “Thank you, Deacon,” Eva said sincerely, with feeling. “You’ve been so nice to me. I’m so glad I came to St. Thomas today.”

  Deacon laughed. “All nice men on St. Thomas. You come back.”

  “Maybe I will,” she said as the bill was paid and they left the restaurant.

  Eva was able to catch the nine o’clock ferry, Deacon vouching for her with his friend Felix who ran the ferry. Deacon then gallantly kissed the back of her hand and helped her board with her packages. Eva stood waving at him until he disappeared into the background of the dock in the night.

  She was tired, but she felt good and soothed. However, heading back to St. John renewed the events of last night and this morning. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d relived the moment when her and Maxwell’s comforting of each other turned to another kind of embrace. Eva felt curls of emotion grip at her stomach muscles every time she recalled the hard, firm fullness of Maxwell’s mouth on hers. He had demonstrated an undeniable expertise in the way he’d caressed her. There was no point in trying to convince herself that it hadn’t felt good. She’d been out of circulation a long time…but she wasn’t dead. What she couldn’t handle was his obvious arousal and his move to make the embrace more than it was. Eva couldn’t believe that she had been responsible for it.

  What had she done to make him want to—to touch her in that much more intimate way?