“Hey, all I get is a clam?” I asked, staring into mine. “What’s going on?” My eyes slid from her to Damian.
“Open it!” Sierra was so excited, Damian had to hold her down.
I pried the creamy, brown shell open. The inside was filled with sand. Lodged in the center was a ring with three sparkling alexandrites.
“You like it? You like it?” Sierra was prancing around me.
“It’s beautiful.” I smiled at Damian.
My mother’s necklace lay somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, where he’d thrown it. I’d never get it back, but I had something of my own now.
“Thank you.” I leaned over and kissed him.
He deepened the kiss, burying his hands in my hair. “Sierra—”
“But I didn’t bring any books!”
“You said twenty minutes.” Damian groaned into my ear.
“Maybe twenty more?” I laughed. “Where are you going?”
“For a swim,” he answered. “In the cold, deep end of the ocean.”
I watched him take off, slicing through the water with fluid, graceful strokes.
Sierra and I finished lunch and stretched out in the sun. Blondie, Bruce Lee, and Dirty Harry watched us from their rock. I didn’t know how long green iguanas lived, but I was glad Sierra had the chance to make friends with them. Damian had given her the task of naming the island, and she had spent the morning conferring with them. The verdict was still out.
By the time Damian returned, Sierra had fallen asleep. He adjusted the umbrella so she was in the shade, and tiptoed around her, to my side. His wet skin gave me goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature.
“Put it on,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “I was betting you’d tell me to take it off.”
“I like the way you think, but I was talking about the ring.” He gave me a wicked smile as he slipped it over my finger. “I want to see what it looks like on you.”
I held my hand out, against the endless blue horizon. Rainbow glints reflected off our faces. It wasn’t just a ring. It was an open window and paper animals, a boy clutching fifteen pesos and a girl writing strawberry letters. It was the story of two people who had come full circle, and it was wrapped in gold around my finger.
What are we? Damian had asked on this very beach.
There on our little piece of paradise, with Sierra sleeping beside us, I finally figured it out.
We are sand and rock and water and sky, anchors on ships and sails in the wind. We are a journey to a destination that shifts every time we dream or fall or leap or weep. We are stars with flaws that still sparkle and shine. We will always strive, always want, always have more questions than answers, but there are moments like these, full of magic and contentment, when souls get a glimpse of the divine and quite simply, lose their breath.
A NEW MOON PERCHED IN the dusky sky, a slender arc of the softest silver. The small group of guests who had shared our special day—Nick, Rafael, their wives, some of the women I worked with, and a handful of Damian’s associates—were all gone, but the gardens of Casa Paloma were still twinkling with lights. Damian, Sierra, and I were sitting by the pond.
“Who’s Monique?” I asked, holding up a card personalized with a deep-purple lip print.
“Let me see that.” Damian put aside his cake. Pink frosting, topped with fresh strawberries. It was an unusual choice for a wedding, a replica of the birthday cake he’d never got around to having. He’d laughed when they’d wheeled it in. The cake topper was a giant white tooth, a private joke harking back to when he’d knocked Gideon Benedict St. John’s tooth out.
He looked the card over and grinned. “Monique was someone who made my time in prison so much more pleasant.”
I crossed my arms and waited for an explanation.
“Don’t scowl. It’s not very bride-like,” he said.
“Don’t bring up exes on our wedding day. It’s not very groom-like.”