Authors: Dorothy Phaire
“Well, I’m waiting. What’s it gonna be, Doc?” Renee could hear the impatience in his voice as he waited for her reply.
“I suppose it’s okay as long as we’re just talking about dinner. If you want to pick me up at my house, I can be ready at six. I’m really in no mood to drive this evening anyway.”
Despite trying to remain calm and detached, a light giddiness came over her after she hung up the phone. Now, she was glad she had decided not to take that last dose of Lexapro. She certainly did not want to appear lethargic and distracted around Deek. The forecast called for chilly weather that evening so she wanted to wear comfortable clothing. She riffled through her wardrobe and finally selected a black stretch velvet skirt, black cashmere V-neck sweater and leather boots. She clasped an amethyst drop necklace around her neck and clipped on matching teardrop earrings. The jewelry helped dress up the casual outfit. Knowing Deek, he’d probably take her downtown to some place really nice for dinner. The closer the clock approached six, the greater her anticipation and excitement grew. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t brush off that wild, happy feeling of a romantic schoolgirl. “Or more like some romantic fool,” she said out loud to herself.
Ever since running into Deek at the Boys and Girls Club fundraiser last night, from time to time she had found herself imagining all sorts of crazy circumstances that she knew could never be. At one point, she actually pictured herself married to Deek. In her fantasy, they lived in a small country cottage just outside the city, and she was holding a newborn in her arms. When she was at her lowest point, she would try to replace her bad memories with good visualizations. Her good images and memories were ones that typically included Deek. Renee realized that if she ever found herself alone with him, it would take all her strength and willpower to resist making love to him again. Dinner downtown in a public restaurant was about the only safe place she trusted herself to be with him. Renee could not keep lying to herself. Her feelings for Deek were too strong to be considered innocent. She knew the safest thing for her to do was avoid tempting situations.
At exactly six o’clock, Renee heard the doorbell. When she opened the door, Deek stood before her dressed in hip, causal gear of buff Timberlands, stonewashed, and loose-fitting jeans. His muscular torso stretched a ribbed cocoa sweater under a sporty, fur lined jacket, and his smile mesmerized her into total speechlessness until he spoke and broke the awkward silence.
“Well, can I come in?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Deek,” she said and stepped aside, “please come in. You’re not exactly dressed for dinner downtown. Where are we going, Detective Hamilton?”
“Let me worry about that, Doc,” he smiled, “But you look even more beautiful than I expected. So are we all set to go?”
“Yes, I’m ready,” she said, hoping he couldn’t detect her school-girl excitement as she retrieved her coat from the closet. “Now, you’re sure you won’t need a jacket and tie to get into the restaurant?”
Deek helped Renee with her coat as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. “Like I said Doc, everything’s under control,” he smiled mischievously and brushed her cheek lightly with a kiss, “I have a surprise for you, Birthday Girl.”
D
eek slid a CD in the disc player of his black, two-seater vintage Mercedes convertible. He turned the volume up and sped down New York Avenue away from the city. Renee didn’t care that he drove over the speed limit or that on this particular evening he liked his music loud with a decidedly youthful rhythm and beat. Perhaps they were both from two different worlds, with little in common, but at that moment she felt exhilarated—like a teenager defying the rules. She’d always lived life as if playing a chess game—every move was made in a logical fashion with a definite purpose. Moves made haphazardly caused problems later on. Tonight she didn’t even want to analyze the consequence of this move. She just enjoyed sitting next to Deek, full of sexual tension, and heading straight towards the unknown. She glanced over at him and felt a wild abandonment. The Capital and Washington Monument disappeared in the distance, veiled in a foggy mist. She dismissed her twinges of guilt by reasoning that she was just going out for an evening of innocent fun and relaxation with an old friend. Nothing more. This was something she really needed after her stressful encounters with Bill over the last several days.
“I thought we were going downtown for dinner. Just where are you taking me, Lieutenant Hamilton?” said Renee with an impish smile.
“I told you, it’s a surprise, Doc. You didn’t look like you were having much fun the other night. So I intend to make up for it tonight.”
Renee clasped her hands together in her lap in order to resist the strong urge to touch his thigh.
For most of the ride, she stared out the window rather than risk being tempted by one of the features she loved most about him—his
boyish dimples
whenever he smiled. After racing along Route 50, they reached the Bay Bridge in less than forty minutes. Renee looked out into the waters off the Chesapeake Bay.
“Now I must insist that you tell me, Deek, where are we headed?” She crossed her arms and stared at his handsome profile, waiting for an answer.
“Okay, Doc, I confess. I’m taking you to Hemingway’s Restaurant on Kent Island just across the bridge,” he said, “The seafood’s as great as the view of the Bay. If we hurry we can catch the sunset’s reflection off the water.”
“I had no idea a D. C. homicide detective could be so romantic,” she said in a teasing voice.
“Forget about my job, Renee. I have. We’re on my time now, not the department’s or the FBI’s.” He looked away from the road just long enough to give her a wicked smile.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Actually, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Several weeks ago, I bought a getaway cottage in Bay City. Someplace I can escape to on weekends or whenever I get a chance. When I can’t use the cottage myself, I plan to rent it out.”
Renee pushed aside a lock of hair from her eyes and turned to him in surprise. “You did what?”
“Yeah, you heard right, Doc. I bought another house. It’s in a small, historic town called Stevensville, not too far from the restaurant. If you’d like to see it after dinner, I’ll take you there and give you my five minute tour.”
Renee shook her head in disbelief, but inside she felt her anticipation growing. “You’re always full of surprises. But I think we should stick with the original plan and just have dinner at the restaurant.”
Hemingway’s sat on a marina with a 180-degree view of the Chesapeake Bay. The Annapolis skyline peaked out over the water further off in the distance. The waitress led them to a table by the window and Deek ordered a bottle of Chandon wine while they studied the menu. They started off their meal with crusty bread and house salad smothered in raspberry vinaigrette. A few sips of wine took care of the chill in the air. Deek warmed her hands in his as they both watched the sun disappear behind the skyline. The sun left reddish, orange accents on the rippling water. As the sun set, the sky changed into multiple shades of pinks, oranges, reds, and yellows. Waves flapped on the water. The setting was so beautiful and calm, Renee felt herself falling for Deek all over again—not that she’d ever stopped loving him.
She was glad when their shrimp and crab cakes arrived so she could focus on the food instead of his dark intense eyes. Throughout dinner live music played, and laughter floated upward from Lola’s Tropical Bar & Grill, a beach club that was basically a tent under Hemingway’s. After finishing dinner, Deek suggested they go downstairs and check out the club. At Lola’s they danced, told each other funny anecdotes, and shared their worst workday moments over the loud conversations around them. At 11 o’clock, a steady downpour of hard rain began to beat against the club’s tent-like enclosure while the wind bellowed outside.
“Perhaps we’d better wait out this storm before driving back across the bridge,” said Deek, “My cottage is no more than ten minutes away. Would you like to wait the storm out at my place?”
Renee frowned and feigned a serious look on her face. “Your place? And be swallowed up in the belly of the whale?”
“Huh?” He looked at her questioningly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.
She smiled. “Ignore my biblical symbolism. What I mean is, I don’t think that’s wise to go to your place.”
“Why not Doc? I have a case of Moet and my frig is stocked. It sounds like a good plan to me.”
Renee finally conceded that Deek was probably right. The storm appeared to be getting stronger instead of subsiding. The beach club tent offered little protection. There was no way to make it back over the Bay Bridge until the storm died down. They ran out to the car and headed for his cottage. Even at full force, Deek’s windshield wipers couldn’t clear the rain from the windows fast enough. Ten minutes later, he parked in front of his new ranch-style cottage with its wrap-around porch. Although it was dark, Renee envisioned a nicely landscaped, scenic setting from the surrounding looming trees and perennial gardens. Deek pushed aside the screen and unlocked the front door. He turned on the wall switch in the hallway and Renee’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. The hardwood floors were covered with area rugs and oak wood furnishings. A large, stone fireplace dominated one wall in the living room. Ethnic prints mingled with tartan plaids on chair covers and pillows gave the décor a rustic appearance. He lit candles on the mantelpiece and started a fire.
“This is nice Deek, but I never knew you had a penchant for the country look.”
“I don’t. I prefer leather and a modern style but the house came fully furnished so it’ll work for now.”
“Actually, I love it. It’s very peaceful out here. Kind of remote though.”
“Yeah, that’s why I like it. I needed a place to get away,” he said, “Would you like a drink while we wait for the storm to pass? I have something I’d like you to try.”
Renee followed him to the modest-sized kitchen and in route was given a quick tour. She sat down at the bar stool in the kitchen. She rested her chin on the back of her hand and watched as he retrieved two tall glasses from the cabinet and plopped in several cubes of ice into each one. “What are you making?” she asked.
He retrieved a bottle of Gosling’s® Black Seal Bermuda Black Rum from the pantry and set the bottle on the countertop. “It’s a drink called ‘Dark and Stormy.’ Kind of appropriate with the weather outside,” he smiled and measured out 2 ounces of the rum for each ice-filled glass.
Renee watched as he poured the rum into their glasses and pulled out a bottle of what looked like beer from the refrigerator and a fresh lime. Renee wondered if he was really planning to drive her home tonight. Next, he added 4 ounces of the other substance to each glass. “What’s that you’re putting in the rum?” she asked.
Deek held up the bottle so she could see the label, “This is Jamaican Ginger Beer. I don’t have Bermuda Ginger Beer, but the Jamaican brand will do. This drink has history,” he said and proceeded to slice the lime. “When the Royal Navy ships came over to Bermuda from England in the 17
th
century they would add a little Ginger Beer to make the alcohol last longer during the long voyage.”
He squeezed in a little lime, stirred the mixture a few times, and handed her the drink to sample, “Whaddya think?”
“Um,” she said, taking a small sip, “It’s good.” Not accustomed to liquor, Renee thought the drink was a little strong for her. She figured she’d better drink it slowly, especially after having consumed wine with dinner. They carried their drinks back to the living room. Deek put on a jazz CD and a melodic blend of bass and drum accompaniment melded with the sound of soothing piano ballads. They sat next to each other on the pillow-backed sofa, covered in indigo blue and crimson plaid. Deek entertained her with stories of when he and his brother, Luke were growing up. His grandmother lived with them and would only speak French or Creole, alternating between the two.
“Do you speak French fluently?” Renee asked.
“Yes, I do, as well as, Martinican Creole. Luke and I didn’t learn English until we started kindergarten.”
“Really? You wouldn’t know it. What kind of language is Martinican Creole?”
“Well, it has French syntax but it’s a mixture of French and African dialects, with a little English, Spanish and Portuguese thrown in. They speak a similar type of Creole in Louisiana and French-speaking islands like Haiti and Guadeloupe as well as in English-speaking islands of Saint Lucia and Dominica that are close to Martinique. Perhaps one day I can take you there,” he smiled.
“Are French and Creole the only languages you speak besides English?” she asked, and took another sip of Dark and Stormy.
“I can hold my own in Spanish pretty well when I need to,” he said. “What about you?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I studied Latin in college and how practical is that?” She said with a sarcastic smile, “I’ve since forgotten most of it anyway.” Deek agreed that there was probably not much demand for Latin these days.
Renee slipped off her shoes and curled her legs up on the couch, feeling completely relaxed from the drink and the jazz music. “That CD you’re playing is really nice,” she said.
“It sure is,” said Deek, nodding. “That’s Bill Evans Trio playing, from the album
Everybody Digs Bill Evans.
It’s a classic collection and I managed to get my hands on two copies of it. I keep one copy here at the cottage and one back in the city. When I’ve had a really rough day, I come home and listen to this number playing right now called ‘Peace Piece’ until it puts me to sleep.”
Even after talking for over an hour, the storm still hadn’t let up. Renee felt light-headed from the drink and from the wine at dinner.
“It’s getting late, Doc. Why don’t you just stay overnight in the guest room?” he suggested, “and I’ll take you home in the morning.”
Renee hesitated then shook her head, “Deek, I don’t …”