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Island Recess, Chapter 5.
Helena stood in the middle of the sidewalk, mentally tabulating the remaining
balance in the “grocery” portion of her budget. Yesterday’s trip with Ben to the
mega-grocery store in St. Thomas had made a serious dent in her finances for the
month. Somehow, her resolve to eat oatmeal for breakfast and simple sandwiches
for lunch had given way to extravagant purchases of gourmet pizza, expensive
wine, and thick, glossy fashion magazines. Helena wasn’t sure exactly how the
freshly-roasted coffee beans and bars of specialty chocolate had made their way
into her grocery cart, but she had found herself guiltily handing over the money
for her luxury items at the check-out stand. Helena sighed, as she tossed the
chocolate bar wrappers from the final victim into a nearby garbage can. She was
always covertly annoyed with herself for feeling guilty about food, and made a
sanctimonious self-defense about the anti-oxidant properties of chocolate.
Today’s different, though, she thought with a degree of sanctimony, birthday
calories are negative, or at least that’s what Julie would say. Of course, Julie
would call them birthday week calories, thereby justifying last night’s caloric
pre-birthday food fest with the staff of her school. Helena smiled at the
memory.
Readjusting her sunglasses, she looked both ways and walked swiftly across the
road toward the open market, barely registering the honk of an oncoming car.
While the roads were never as congested as those on St. Thomas or the mainland,
Helena had found that there was a curious relationship between the local
pedestrians and drivers. There seemed to be some mutual unspoken knowledge of
exactly how slowly a pedestrian could amble across a busy street, and exactly
how close an oncoming vehicle could come to the pedestrian before braking
slightly and administering an admonishing blast from the horn. The Sunday market
was in full swing, with a series of make-shift plywood strands occupying the
tiny square by the waterfront. From the stalls swung the usual collection of
brightly colored sarongs, scarves, and t-shirts. Vendors shouted out invitations
to passers-by to examine their jewelry, wood carvings and knick-knacks. Helena
noted wryly a “My Grandma went to the USVI and all she bought me was this lousy”
t-shirt swinging against one stall. Having seen similar merchandise bearing the
same sentiment in a variety of countries, she gave a mental kudos to what must
now surely be a very wealthy entrepreneur. Heading toward the back of the market
area, she shook loose the plastic shopping bag she carried with her. The fruits
and vegetables were stacked in colorful disarray on the tables. Greeting the
nearest merchant with a smile, she inquired after the prices of the unmarked
produce. She had long since come to know the disparity between “tourist” and
“local” prices, and was pleased to now be offered produce at the same rates paid
by the parents of her students. Filling her bag with mangos, bananas, sweet
peppers and tomatoes took only a few dollars of those she clutched in her sweaty
palm. With a lighter heart, she turned and left the market, heading down toward
the dockside, where she hoped to purchase an inexpensive lunch. Her bag swung in
time to her light footfall, and as she turned to run across the street, her
smooth progress was halted abruptly by a loud cry. “Morris!”
Helena half-turned as a bulky canine of indeterminate parentage trotted past
her, dragging a length of rope from his collar. The dog seemed oblivious to the
increasingly desperate cries of an approaching owner, and had jumped the curb
before Helena had dropped her groceries and managed to grab the rope’s tail-end.
At that moment, she heard the warning bellow of an oncoming truck, and leapt
back onto the sidewalk, hauling mightily on the dog’s lead as she did so. Morris
seemed unaware of the fact that his wriggling posterior had missed colliding
with the truck’s bumper by mere inches. Turning his attention to Helena’s bags
of now-tumbling produce, he began a frantic investigation of the contents.
Helena bent to him, rubbing his tightly muscled brown body and whispering
soothingly as she wound his lead more tightly around her palm.
“Morris! Thank God you’re all right!” Morris’s owner had arrived, panting with
exertion. “Miss, I don’t know how to thank…” His words trailed off as he bent
down and Helena simultaneously stood, striking him on the chin with the top of
her head. “Oww.” he moaned, smiling in recognition as he made eye contact with
Morris’s guardian angel.
“Helena!” said Neil with what was both gratitude and genuine pleasure. Flushing
slightly as she recalled her e-mail message to Julie, she returned his smile.
“Oh Helena, thank you! I was in the scuba store and left Morris tied up outside.
I guess I turned around for a minute too long or the knot wasn’t tight enough to
hold. Anyway, when I came out he was already half-way down the block, heading
toward the traffic. I can’t tell you how glad I am you were able to catch him.
He’s deaf as a post and has no sense at all about cars. You saved his life,
Helena. I don’t know. I just don’t know what I’d have done if anything
happened…”His words trailed off, swallowed up by emotion.
By instinct, Helena reached an arm out toward him, gave him a half-hug and said
soothingly, “Well, let’s be glad nothing did happen. He’s okay now, just needs a
little T.L.C. after his close call.”
If Morris was at all damaged by his escapades, it was not readily apparent. He
had taken hold of a large tomato and sunk his teeth into the flesh, causing a
messy eruption of seeds and juice in the general vicinity of his muzzle. The
remainder of the damage had struck Helena’s bare leg, and she made a
surreptitious attempt to wipe the tomato’s intestines from her skin with the
edge of her sandal. Neil bent to scratch his pet’s ears while stretching out a
hand to corral a few truant pieces of fruit. Helena quickly stuffed these in her
near-full shopping bags, petted Morris’s flanks longingly and hesitated. Morris
began to pant heavily, looking eagerly from Helena to Neil and shifting
impatiently as if begging for further diversion..
Rising to his feet, Neil reached out a hand and gently squeezed Helena’s
shoulder.
“I’d really like to thank you properly for this, Helena. I know you’re probably
busy tonight, but maybe with more notice?” Helena noted the invitation, wondered
if it contained innuendo, but said nothing. Mentally, she was defining “busy.”
Her plans for the afternoon involved a bath and a book. They could include a rum
and Coke, if she still had ice and lime. And rum. She made a mental note to pop
around to the liquor store. Neil was continuing.
“Anyway, maybe I could take you for a drink just for now, and then for something
better later on. Do you have time? Just for a quickie?” His cheeks reddened
almost imperceptibly as both parties registered the unfortunate double-entendre.
She took a deep breath and the decision was made. “As a matter of fact,” said
Helena sagely, “I do have time. And I believe it’s my responsibility as Good
Samaritan to monitor the progress of my patient.”
Morris strained at the lead as he recognized the impending forward motion. The
rope tied to his collar tightened around Helena’s hand. Seeing that both her
hands were occupied with groceries and Morris, Neil good-naturedly slipped the
bags from her hands and left Helena walking the dog, or rather being walked by
him. Gradually the trio progressed toward the waterfront, led by an eagerly
plunging Morris who clearly had never learned, or else had forgotten, the
business of walking politely by his owner’s side. Finding an open bar facing the
beach, the trio climbed the tiled entrance steps.
“He’s had a bit of a scare; he almost got run over, and we’d really like to keep
him with us,” explained Neil with a beseeching and beguiling smile to the
waitress, who promptly lost her glacial demeanor and placed them on wicker
chairs around the counter. Helena looked around her in delight. She had taken
few opportunities since her arrival to eat and drink in the more expensive
establishments, and this eatery, while informal, was bright and pretty with its
island décor. Soothing pastel prints splashed across the cushions were echoed by
the short-sleeved shirts of the bar staff, moving with practiced ease among the
clientele. The excited patter of tourists and locals was drowned out
sporadically by the whirling of the blender as it mixed brightly colored,
fruity-smelling drinks. Helena looked longingly at one particular concoction, a
lemony-yellow, frothy drink crowned with a fruit-laden spear and tiny umbrella.
Following her gaze, Neil smiled broadly, “How about one of those?” he suggested.
She nodded enthusiastically. Leaning forward across the bar, he gesticulated at
the bartender and motioned for two of the cocktails.
Few words had been exchanged between the two since being seated, and yet Helena
felt strangely at ease with her companion. Having passed a few pleasant minutes
in inspecting his new surroundings, Morris had settled in the shade of their
chairs, head supported on front paws to begin surveillance of passers-by. It
seemed that either Helena or Neil were always in contact with Morris, rubbing
the canine’s large head and pointy ears. At one point, both leaned in to pat him
simultaneously, and nearly knocked heads again.
“I’ve already had one of those today,” moaned Neil in mock-misery, pointing to
his chin. “I think I’ll just let you have the next turn at the petting zoo.”
Morris emitted a low grumble of contentment as Helena’s hand met with the fur at
the scruff of his neck.
“How long have you had him?” she inquired, a trace of wistfulness in her voice.
Helena loved animals of all types, especially dogs, and missed her weekend runs
in the park with Julie and her best friend’s flighty Golden Retriever.
“I picked up Morris, or rather he picked me up on one of the Bahamian islands.
He was just skin and bones, poor thing and seemed scared of his own shadow. At
first, he wouldn’t even drink water from my cup, so I had to pour is out on the
pavement. He circled and circled, watching me all the time until he felt safe
enough to lap at the puddle. I’d seen him before outside a bar that I used to
visit, um, rather a lot. And we got to have a little ritual with the water. I
think old Morris knew he had me, hook, line, and sinker, the day he decided he
was ready to take a drink from my cupped hands. I asked around but it seemed he
was a stray. So the night before I left the island, I had Morris come hang out
with me down by the dinghy dock. I’d brought a beefy bone to help along with the
convincing, but when it was time to go he just jumped in of his own accord. And
that was that. I don’t know who picked whom, but it’s worked out great. We went
right to Nassau after leaving the island and found a vet. I had Morris checked
out completely, vaccinated, and de-wormed, and then began feeding him whatever
his poor stomach could keep down. Since then, he’s filled out nicely and seems
pretty happy on the whole. Only thing is, he still seems a little nervous around
other men. I don’t know, maybe he’s just being a guy, preferring the company of
the opposite sex.”
Neil concluded his story with a fond tug at Morris’s ear. The dog leered upward
with an adoring expression, then turned his attention and tongue to a close
examination of his private parts. Neil shook his head laughingly. “See? Typical
male. Totally driven by sex.”
At the word “sex,” Helena started slightly. While outwardly hanging on Neil’s
every word, Helena had allowed a few of her still-unoccupied brain cells to
process the visual information before her. The message relayed back to her
indicated that her companion was indeed a very attractive one. The faded navy
t-shirt, the hem of which he appeared to be using to absorb the sweat from his
palms, was an attractive foil to his sparkling blue eyes. Emerging from a pair
of old, creased khaki shorts, his thighs were well-muscled, the hairs on the
skin golden against his tanned skin. As he spoke, Helena observed the curve of
his mouth against his teeth, and found herself longing to touch his full lower
lip. A lock of sun-bleached hair flopped forward, becoming stuck to his forehead
by the beads of sweat that glistened there. She found herself wanting to see him
push his hair back with an impatient gesture, his broad calloused fingers
sliding purposefully front-to-back. But his hands, other than the ritual wiping
on his t-shirt remained relatively still, reaching only occasionally for a glass
in which the ice was rapidly melting. His eyes had not appeared to have left
Helena’s face since they had sat, and under what appeared to be close scrutiny,
she tried to find excuses to divert his attention elsewhere. She pointed out
sailboats in the harbor, a dog fruitlessly chasing minnows in the shallows, and
a pair of children attempting to skip rocks into the gentle waters. For several
minutes, she breathed a sigh of what felt like relief, but wasn’t, when Neil,
with some encouragement on her part, excused himself to talk to the children.
Turning her attention briefly to her beverage, she relished the smooth blend of
rum, fruit juices, and coconut milk. What was that spice? And who was she
kidding? With a scrape on the tiled floor that aroused Morris from a brief
snoring reverie, she turned her chair to watch Neil and the children. He talked
with them quietly, out of earshot, and all three smiled shyly. Neil seemed to
ask them a question, and the response was a vigorous nodding of two brown heads.
Then, he was bending low to one side, his wrist snapping forward as the small,
flat rock left his hand and skipped five times across the waves before slipping
under the water. Both of the children were eager to try his technique and ran
about the beach, searching for the perfect stone before dropping their shoulders
and launching their missiles. The man seemed to praise their efforts and both
children were beaming when he shook their hands and turned to walk back up the
sloping beach. As she waited for her companion to return, she counted the skips
of the children’s stones. One, two, three, four.
“Sorry for abandoning you like that, Helena, but I’m glad you encouraged me to
go. I know how frustrating it can be learning to do something for the first
time. Sometimes it’s good to struggle through on your own but other times you
persevere a lot longer with just a bit of guidance. I can see why you like
teaching: giving them wings and all. How did you get your start?”
Helena launched somewhat tiredly into the explanation she had given many times:
the family members who had become teachers, her early experiences volunteering
in nursery schools, tutoring peers through high school, and finally, a failed
experiment working as a nanny in Spain. After a few confusing months, she had
gladly returned to Seattle, and after a brief stint in a coffee shop, had
enrolled at Washington State the following term. The rest had followed quickly:
an honor’s degree in Education, the immediate offer of a position at a needy,
low-income elementary school, and her subsequent decision to accept the offer.
While she had switched positions only twice since her first job, Helena
continued to seek out those in high-needs school districts, preferring the
company of children dealing with multiple challenges. Neil listened attentively,
nodding and inserting salient questions at appropriate intervals. Despite her
reservations, Helena found herself relaxing and talking more freely. When the
question she had been dreading came, she was surprised by the ease with which
she was able to respond with simplicity, conveniently omitting the most painful
truths.
“So Helena, savior of runaway canines and problem children, what brings you to
the beautiful Virgin Islands?“ came the query, along with a noticeable forward
shift in posture. Their knees were almost touching. With just a casual shift in
posture, she could…
“Ah, well, let’s just say it’s been a very long time since I’d taken a holiday.
I’ve always been the one with my nose stuck to the travel-agent’s window,
drooling over pictures of sandy beaches and drinks with little umbrellas.” She
laughed, indicating her empty glass, and smiled more broadly as Neil gestured
for another round.
“Anyway, it had been an unusually cold, wet winter, even for Seattle, with lots
of sleet, and snow and ice. I was desperate for some warm weather and desperate
for other changes as well. My girlfriend Julie, who’s a Web addict and a teacher
to boot, is always looking on the ‘Net for job postings in more exotic locales.
Well, when she found this one in St. John advertised, she phoned me immediately.
It turns out she couldn’t leave her current contract due to some crazy clause,
so I wound up applying. I’m fortunate enough to have an aunt who knows somebody
who knows somebody else, so before you could say ‘nepotism is totally wrong
where others are concerned,’’ I was here!”
As Helena reached for the fresh drink, she knocked her hand unnecessarily
against Neil’s, and felt the electric tingle of the contact slide down her arm.
“Down girl! ”she cautioned herself inwardly.
“Anyway,” she said, drawing herself up with straight-backed posture and winding
up on a more formal, teacherly note, “I’m incredibly grateful to have had this
opportunity. The Virgin Islands are beautiful, and I’ve been able to swim and
snorkel, and kayak and cycle all around St. John. The school is wonderful, the
kids are great, and I’ve met wonderful people who’ve become good friends. I’ll
be sorry to leave come August.”
She averted her eyes momentarily, fighting the rising sense of loss she always
experienced when contemplating her return to the mainland and all the loose ends
that awaited her.
“But, why leave?” asked Neil with a quizzical expression, “From what I hear
you’re doing a fantastic job at the school. I’m sure that the school board would
gladly find you another position, maybe not on St. John, but on St. Thomas or
St. Croix, for sure. Good teachers are hard to find.”
“Um, it’s not just that”, said Helena, struggling to find words while sipping
furiously at the remains of her second drink, “It’s just that I need to go home
and sort some things out. I have some unfinished business to attend to, I guess
you could say.”
“Well, I hope it’s not another man,” said Neil with a smile that managed to
convey impish teasing, wistfulness, and inquiry all at once. He reached out a
finger, and to Helena’s mortification wiped from her chin a trickle of beverage
that had missed her mouth.
“No, not really. Sort of. But not in that way. Not in a good way.” Her words
trailed off as Neil reached for her hand and covered it gently with his.
“I know, sometimes it’s hard,” he said simply.
Helena smiled her gratitude and rejected the unstated invitation to elaborate.
With what she hoped was not an obvious attempt to change the subject, she asked,
“Well, what about you, mender of church floors and builder of school additions?”
Helena cringed as she realized he had not told her about his activities on St.
John. The painful price of gossiping, she thought ruefully. For a fleeting,
desperate moment, she hoped that he would not realize she had been pumping
others for information. He either didn’t seem to notice, or covered it well.
“Now that is a long story, Helena Travis, and definitely requires sustenance for
the telling. How would you feel about dinner? My boat’s only a short drive away
and I have all the fixings for a pasta dinner. What do you say?”
He was rising as he spoke, weighting a variety of small bills with their empty
glasses, gathering Morris’s lead in one hand and Helena’s groceries in the
other.
Helena faltered as she weighed her options. Among her college friends, she had
been the notorious butt of campus jokes for her inability to tolerate large
amounts of alcohol. Two drinks was one more than her usual, and she was already
on the verge of feeling giddy. While both she and Julie had made careless
decisions in the past regarding men, they counted themselves lucky, and had
sworn a pact never to act rashly after a few drinks. Rather than giving herself
an excuse to tear off his endearingly un-ironed shorts, and unwittingly open the
door to possible heartbreak. Helena decided to play it safe.
“I’d love to,” she struggled to remain composed, “But I have a few errands to
take care of before I go home and then a pile of grading waiting for me there.
Rain-check?” Her words hung in the air momentarily as she registered the look of
disappointment on her companion’s face.
“Absolutely. What about Friday, right after school? I’ll pick you up, show you
the boat, and make you dinner, or take you out. Your choice?”
His face visibly relaxed as Helena beamed broadly and reached for her groceries.
Happy Birthday to me, she thought. Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated after
all.
“I’d love that. Friday it is.” On impulse, she touched his arm briefly, and then
bent to kiss the top of Morris’s head. “I’ll see you both then.”
As she turned and started to walk away, she found herself struggling to suppress
the urge to skip and run. On the pretence of checking both ways before crossing
the street, she glanced back in Neil’s direction. He and Morris were still
standing where she had left them, broad human and doggy smiles firmly in place.
Chapter 6.
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