After an afternoon in the orchards, Claire took a leisurely swim, sunbathed by the pool, read, and napped. When Madeline woke her, she showered and readied for dinner. It was a variation on her normal routine, and with everything considered, Claire didn’t think it was too bad.
Running her fingers down the fabric of her pink sundress, Claire pondered her dinner companions. It wasn’t like she needed to look good for Madeline and Francis. It was an ingrained behavior—dinner meant formal. Truly, Claire enjoyed that. It was the climax to her day. Securing the shell necklace, she observed her hair—pulled up with ringlets of blonde and brown hanging down over her neck. In only a few weeks, the sun had successfully lightened her hair. Claire smirked, of course, what did she expect by living this close to the equator?
As they were about to sit down to eat, the sound of an airplane filled their ears. Where only moments earlier the sound of birds and surf dominated, now the roar of propellers amplified over the island. Claire’s first thought was Phil. Who else would know their way to her island?
When she stood, Francis placed his hand on her arm. Claire stopped as he warned, “Madame el, it is better if you wait to see.”
Instinctively, she hugged her midsection and nodded. Standing on the lanai, she looked down at the lagoon. As she watched the small plane land on the sparkling water, she felt her heartbeat in her throat. The landing and stopping of the propeller seemed to take hours rather than minutes. Perhaps it was the anticipation of greeting the first plane to land in the lagoon since Claire arrived, or more likely, her excitement at again seeing a familiar face. Regardless of the reason, Claire stood on the lanai with baited breath. It wasn’t until she saw Phil emerge from the small vessel, that she allowed herself to smile.
Losing her heeled shoes, Claire ran down the path, toward the shore. The green vegetation, colorful flowers, and lush trees hid her view of the beach. She was just about to call out—to shout to Phil—when she emerged from the foliage. As her bare feet hit the beach, they stopped and slowly sank into the soft sand.
Stalling under an arch of flowers and vines, Claire experienced one of those moments where time stood still—the sun and moon forgot their roles—the earth no longer turned—and the tides no longer ebbed or flowed. She stood speechless as a second passenger emerged from the plane and stepped toward the path. When he looked up, he stopped mid-step. Claire bravely met his gaze, taking in the darkest, most intense eyes she’d ever known.
Claire knew she’d seen every emotion in those eyes—from anger to adoration. Currently, she saw a mixture of apprehension and desire. With each second, desire overpowered apprehension—desire overpowered—everything—everything else—everywhere.
Perhaps there were stars falling, volcanoes erupting, or epic winds blowing. Truthfully, at that moment, the entire world could’ve been lost and neither one would have known. Later, when she reflected, Claire believed Phil had been speaking. He was giving reason or explanations—at the time, all Claire heard was the beating of her heart—maybe, just maybe, it was their baby’s heart. No matter, the whoosh—whoosh was what filled her ears and her consciousness. Unable to move, Claire stood, waiting for Tony to make his way to her.
Tears filled her eyes and spontaneously escaped her lids as she watched each elegant step. How could a world as perfect as the paradise, where she’d been living, have been lacking? In the last moments, seeing Tony gracefully move toward her, Claire knew her sphere was now whole.
When he was within reach, Claire remembered all she wanted to say—all the questions she’d compiled in her thoughts. Though the questions came to mind, with increased vigor, no words materialized on her lips. Standing tall and proud, Claire remained silent. She couldn’t calm the mayhem long enough to decipher her words. The best plan was silence until...
Without warning, one of Tony’s arms surrounded her growing waist and the other captured her neck. The sound escaping her lips couldn’t be classified as words. On the contrary, it was more involuntary as her body submitted to his. Every touch, every move, and every angle was determined by him. Claire’s body no longer waited for internal instruction. It was programmed to respond to the contact of the man towering above her, inhaling her aroma, and caressing her body.