Bliss (16 page)

"Unless you plan to date a different kind of woman from
what you prefer now, I say that you out yourself almost every
day. Don't you think it would be better for your family to
know because you told them rather than for them to speculate and get all the facts wrong?"

"No, I don't. You need to stop thinking about what's best
for me, because obviously you have no idea what I need to do
or be."

"Just because I've been gone from this country for most of
my life doesn't mean I understand it any less. When I was fifteen I left Jamaica. I knew that I was a lesbian then and, because of what I looked like, I was an out lesbian. It was hard
for me. It was hard for the thirteen years I was in England, for various reasons, and it's going to be difficult here as well.
I don't anticipate anything being easy. But I'd rather suffer
the chance of someone accosting me for being a dyke than
suffer the emotional violence I'd do to myself if I wasn't honest
about who I am."

"I don't see it as hiding, like I said. I see it as saving my
skin. And I have absolutely no problem with that." Lydia's
voice was final.

The leather creaked as someone stood up. "This is a difficult conversation. We should finish it some other time. It's
too soon after what happened today."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." The sofa creaked again. "I'm
going to bed."

"OK. I'll just stay out here awhile and clear my head."

"All right, I'll see you in the morning." Soft footsteps
gradually faded away.

Sinclair heard Hunter's low sigh. "What the blazes did I
get myself into with this woman?"

In the morning it was just Lydia and Sinclair.

"She left to do some work," the younger woman said. Her
voice was strained. Although it was seven in the morning, she
was already made up and ready for work. With her skillfully
applied makeup, it was nearly impossible to see her bruise
from the fight.

"You can stay here while I go to work if you like, or I can
drop you at Papa's on my way to town."

"I'll stay here. You have a good collection of books to
keep me occupied all day. We can go over to Papa's for dinner after you get back."

"In that case I'll try to come home at a decent hour for a
change."

After Lydia went off to work, Sinclair changed into a pair
of borrowed shorts and a shirt and went to explore the large
subdivision and its adjoining woods. Despite its manicured facade, the neighborhood still managed to keep many of the
natural elements that made it beautiful. Sinclair took out her
camera and quickly lost herself in the landscape.

By the time Lydia came home it was too late for dinner, so
she just took Sinclair back to their father's, promising that
they would do something less dangerous sometime soon.

' inclair couldn't sleep. When for the second time that
)morning she heard someone stirring in the house, she decided to get up. It was Nikki, already showered and preparing to leave for work. It was barely six.

"Hey." Sinclair stood in the doorway of her room, yawning.

Nikki smiled a greeting.

"Going to work already?"

"Yes. I have to be there by seven thirty after I take Xavier
to school."

In the kitchen, the boy sat quietly eating his breakfast of
hominy corn porridge and fruit juice. Apparently, he wasn't
much of a morning person.

Sinclair glanced at the clock on the refrigerator. "Mind if I
tag along?"

"Uh ... sure you can come. But it's going to be boring."

"That's OK. Just take me up there with you and I'll find
some way to occupy myself."

"All right. Hurry up, though. We have to leave in about
twenty minutes."

In less than fifteen minutes Sinclair was showered and
dressed in a long denim skirt and a thin white blouse that
covered the bruises on her arms. Sturdy sandals and a bag
with some personal essentials, including her camera, corn-pleted the outfit. Xavier waited by the front door for his
mother, propped in the doorway with his full backpack
nearly dragging him backward to the floor. He looked like a
pint-sized zombie.

Nikki came up behind Sinclair. "Ready?"

During the walk to Xavier's school, the boy slowly livened
up. By the time they arrived at the school's gate he was blinking happily into the sun and waving at his classmates playing
a few yards away. They left him to play while they caught the
bus heading into the hills to the house where Nikki worked.

"I work for the Breckenridges," Nikki explained as they
rode the small minivan up into the Blue Mountains. "They're
nice white people who came here from England about five
years ago to settle down with their retirement money."

"How often do you work?"

"Only four days out of the week. They pay me good
enough that I don't have to get a second job."

They passed miles of luxuriant greenery, hanging vines, an
occasional splash of color from blossoming fruit trees. The road
was rough. Unpaved dirt and gravel kicked up as the bus
passed, leaving it and any passenger unwise to leave the window open, brushed with red dust. They got off on the third
stop, walking past a half dozen expensively built houses with
their electronic gates and satellite dishes, before they found
the Breckenridges' bright yellow, two-story Tudor mansion
with its high white fence.

"It's beautiful up here." Sinclair said, breathing in the
crisp mountain air.

"Yes. One time I wanted to live up here with the rich people. Then I realized I was afraid of heights and mountain
goats."

Sinclair laughed. "What time do you finish up here?"

"Around five thirty. Why? Are you bored already?" she
teased Sinclair with a tiny smile.

"No, not yet. But I know that you have to work so I planned on going for a walk to take in the sights up here. I
can come back when you're on your lunch break."

"OK. That sounds good. I'll let them get used to the idea
of me bringing somebody up here before they actually see
you." Nikki surprised her with a quick hug. "Come back at
one o'clock. And be careful."

The roads here weren't quite as rough as the ones they had
encountered on the bus. At least it was easier to walk in her
sandals without worrying that she'd turn up at the end of the
journey looking like she'd walked through a bauxite mine.
These roads were paved with asphalt that was spread out like
a beautiful black rug then abruptly stopped three feet from
the growth of vegetation on both sides. A slight breeze came
up, bringing with it the unexpected smell of the sea. Sinclair
took a small dirt road that led from the main one, being careful to note where she came from so she wouldn't get lost trying to get back.

The houses along the dirt road were smaller and less pretentious than the ones she just left, lined up like giggling schoolchildren in their small yards. Their facades were painted in wild
gorgeous colors, scarlet splashed with blues, carmine, and
yellows, teal ribboned with pink. One house was straight out
of a fairy tale with ceramic goblins crouched in the flowerringed yard. The fairies perched on the walls with their nimbuscloud hair and soft brown faces looked ready to separate
from the wood and fly into the air. Sinclair took out her camera.

Hours later, the front of her skirt was dusty from her
kneeling in the dirt to take photos and her stomach complained mildly of being empty. Sinclair ignored it and walked
back into the forest.

The shifting canopy of plants welcomed her with their
sheltering coolness. Sinclair put her camera away, anxious instead to explore the beauty around her with her own eyes.
She sat at the base of an old mahogany tree and leaned back into the smooth bark. Its familiar scent brought back the
childhood memory of playing with neighborhood children,
digging in the dirt for whatever it was that children looked
for back then. The smell of the earth was the same and the
breeze on her face felt intimate and familiar. If she narrowed
her eyes just so, with the sun playing in her lashes, Sinclair
could almost see her mother rushing out to usher the children
inside before the rain came.

"You look comfortable."

Sinclair let her illusion go and opened her eyes. "I am."
She hugged her knees and glanced up at her sister's gorgeous
girlfriend. "What are you doing here?"

"Talking to you of course." Hunter stepped closer. "You
know, you shouldn't be walking up here alone like this. It's
not safe."

"What about you? I don't see your escort."

"I'm different."

Darkness slid suddenly across the sky and thunder rumbled overhead. The air became ripe with the smell of impending rain.

"The sky is going to fall down on our heads any minute."

"Yeah, I should be getting back." Sinclair definitely didn't
want her camera to get wet.

"You'll never make it back to the Breckenridges' in time.
Come with me."

Without turning to see if Sinclair followed, Hunter walked
out of the forest, unerringly finding the dirt road and the few
houses that lined it. Moments later they arrived at an unassuming stone house, mostly hidden by dense layers of flowering plants and shade trees. A profusion of hibiscus in lavish
shades of red and lavender nearly hid the gate from view.
Hunter lifted the vine-covered latch and held the gate wide
for the other woman to pass through. The rain began to fall
in slow sparkling drops. By the time they were inside the
house, it was pouring in violent bucketfuls, slapping against
the plants that surrounded the house with a fierce roar.

"Come in. Make yourself comfortable."

But Sinclair was too busy gawking to do that. The walls of
the entranceway shimmered a vivid cobalt blue. Two bookshelves on either side of the hallway held pale, silver-shimmered
blue vases of varying sizes and shapes. Their glazed surfaces
were smooth and warm under Sinclair's touch. They reminded
her of Della and her clay garden figures.

Paintings of blueness hung from the walls, a dark blue
woman with pale blue eyes and red lips, a day sky bleeding
away its vivid colors under the slow retreat of the sun. The
entryway's vivid, eye-catching blue faded as they walked
deeper into the house to a softer shade, the blue of the sky in
the afternoon, lazy and welcoming. Every bit of furniture, the
long velvet couch, the draperies, the ottoman in its solitary
corner by the window, the rug thrown down on the red tiled
floor, was all in shades of blue. The harmony of the room
was absolute. The calm it evoked, complete.

"This place is gorgeous," Sinclair murmured, sinking into
the velvet sofa.

"Thank you." Hunter brushed a hand through her hair to
rid herself of a few errant raindrops. "I'm going to put on
some lunch. Do you want to share?"

Sinclair's stomach growled the answer, but she said yes
anyway.

Hunter laughed. "Feel free to look around. The food will
be ready in about half an hour." She disappeared into the
kitchen. A few minutes later she came back with a phone.

"You might want to call Nikki and let her know that the
rain didn't wash you away."

Sinclair thought that was a good idea, but she had no idea
what the Breckenridges' phone number was. She said as
much to Hunter.

"I have the number here somewhere. Hold on." She turned
before she could see Sinclair's expression of surprise.

"How did you know that I came up here with her and
where she was?"

"I know where she works, Sinclair. It doesn't take a detective to figure any of that out."

Sinclair couldn't argue against that. While she called
Nikki, Hunter hurried back to the kitchen to check on the
food. She was back from the kitchen within a half hour with
a tray of food and drinks for them both.

"Let's eat outside. The rain doesn't come in on the verandah."

They sat down at a rattan table with four well-padded
chairs. The verandah was large enough that even with a brisk
wind, the rain kept itself far away from the table and their
food, splashing instead on the fragrant pink and white
frangipani that leaned their small, golden-throated blossoms
and green leaves over the railing toward them.

"This looks good," Sinclair said, salivating at the rosemaryflecked baked chicken wings and mashed sweet white potatoes
on her plate. She was starting to think that everyone on the
island knew how to cook except for her.

"Of course it's good. I made it."

The potatoes melted like butter over her tongue. Their
light, starchy sweetness loosened an involuntary groan that
Hunter heard over the deluge of rain.

"I haven't been the cause of a noise like that in quite a few
months," Hunter grinned at her from across the table. "Thank
you."

"That long?" Sinclair murmured between bites. "You
don't seem like the kind of woman to endure celibacy."

"I'm not. But for Lydia I made an exception."

"She seems very special."

"Lydia is all that and more. I'm just wondering if it's more
than I can handle." Hunter's mouth twisted in a parody of a
smile.