Bliss (37 page)

"What are you smiling about?"

"Why do you ask? Can't I just be happy?" The smile remained, taking the sting out of the words.

"I suppose." Sinclair rolled her eyes, but felt a smile tug at
her own lips.

"Want to go a little faster?"

"What?"

"It's easy. And the horses are restless. We'd be doing them
a favor." She grinned. "Trust me." And she took off galloping up the gentle slope. Because Dahlia knew who was boss, the brown mare followed, forcing Sinclair to hold on for dear
life.

Hunter bent forward on Glimmer's back and the horse's
mane, tail, and the dark woman's hair streamed out like a
black and silver banner. Laughter poured out behind her. The
hooves pounded across the mountainside, flying through the
grass and dirt toward the woods leading them back to
the stables. Glimmer began to slow down, so did Dahlia until
the horses were at a canter, their chests heaving with their recent effort. Hunter's chest, too, was heaving, and the look of
her made Sinclair's body flush hot.

"Sexy, sexy, Miss Willoughby." Sinclair playfully licked
her lips.

"Baby, you say the most flattering things ..."

They shared a heated look then rode quickly the rest of the
way home.

The next day Sinclair was so sore from riding that she
could barely make it out of bed. Hunter knew, and showed
up at her father's door not long after everyone had gone with
a jar of something sweet-smelling to rub her down with.

"Just cut off everything below the waist so I can feel better," Sinclair groaned when she opened the door to let Hunter
in.

Her lover, of course, looked disgustingly fit and pain-free
in beige chinos and a white button-down shirt. "That's more
pain in the long run for us all," she said. "Come on. Get back
in bed."

"That's the best thing I've heard anyone say to me all
day.

"It's barely nine o'clock."

"And I've already experienced three hours of constant
pain. Come fix me."

She lay back on the bed and took off her robe so that
Hunter could work on her.

"You know that's not really necessary, right?" she said, gesturing to Sinclair's nakedness. "Not that I'm complaining. "

"Then shut up and touch me."

Hunter rubbed Sinclair's legs and thighs until she was jelly,
until the pain receded to the back of her mind and she was
falling back asleep. Dimly she heard her lover say something
about being teased without the promise of satisfaction.
Sinclair yawned from the pillow of her arms and rolled over
to her back.

"If you want it so bad then take it," she murmured then
moaned softly when Hunter took her up on the invitation,
stroking her throat and breasts with her tongue. That woke
her right up.

'he sun splashed like fine gold around Sinclair. Rain from
last night had come and gone, rinsing the island clean
and leaving behind the crisp scent of newness. Sinclair lay on
her blanket in the sand. Coconut trees rustled nearby in the
breeze, their subtle music almost drowned out by the shrieking children running along the beach, playing tag with each
other and with the waves galloping up on the sand. A few
people lay on towels or sat in beach chairs a few feet away.
Their presence was welcome; their conversation a soothing
counterpoint to the clamor in Sinclair's head.

In a week she would leave, pack up her American clothes,
and go back to where she came from. The thought hurt. She
would miss her family. Their cooking, their laughter, the feeling of belonging. And she would miss Hunter. Sinclair rolled
over and pillowed her suddenly wet face in her arms.

"Is there room on this blanket for one more?"

Lydia stood next to Sinclair looking down at her through
amber-tinted sunglasses. Surprised, she wiped at her eyes and
sat up.

"Sure." She curled her legs under her and moved aside so
Lydia could sit down. Her sister faced her in silence, sliding
her sunglasses to the top of her head.

"I wasn't sure where you'd be today."

"Papa and Nikki usually know where I am."

"Yeah. Nikki told me where to find you."

"So now that you have. . ." Sinclair looked at her in expectation.

Her sister actually blushed and fidgeted. A sigh escaped
her. "I came to apologize."

"Why? I thought you were pretty clear about what you
were feeling last time we talked."

"I was clear, but I was also being stupid. I'm sorry about
what happened at the restaurant and I'm sorry about what I
said when you came to see me. I don't own Hunter. I never did."

Sinclair nodded. "OK. If you don't mind me asking, what
brought on this change?"

"I thought Hunter would have told you what happened."

"Whatever went on was between the two of you. I was
just ... unhappy that you chose to confront the situation in
such a public place and on a day when I was feeling really
good."

Lydia winced and looked away. "I'm sorry. The liquor I
had before I got there was working on me and I didn't show
the best judgment when I raised my voice at you in front of
all those people. My conversation with Hunter made me
realize that." She looked fully at Sinclair. "It also made me
realize that I had no right to be angry because the two of you
found happiness with each other while I ..." Lydia shrugged.
"Anyway, I messed up."

"You said some awful things to me. It's hard to forget
that."

"I meant them at the time, believe me." Her mouth twisted
with bitter humor. "But I was wrong. My motives were wrong."

"Apology accepted." Sinclair drew her knees up and rested
her chin on them. "Thank you for coming to find me."

Lydia stayed with Sinclair for a little while longer, chatting
about nothing in particular then later promising to get together for a drink before Sinclair left for America. Then the
younger woman drove away, leaving Sinclair to bask in the
slow burn of the sun.

Iey, Papa. You're home early."
"Do you have plans for the house that I don't know
about? Should I find an excuse to leave or something?" His
eyes danced.

Sinclair shook her head. "Not funny."

"I thought it was." He looked over her shoulder. "What
are you cooking?"

"Boiled sweet potatoes, cassava, and dumpling. The ackee
is already done."

"It looks good. What restaurant did you get it from?"

"Believe it or not, I cooked it-with a little help from
Hunter."

"That girl can cook?"

Sinclair grinned. "Can she ever."

"Hm, you find out all kinds of things every day." He
peeked in the ackee pot and sniffed with appreciation.
"Nikki and Xavier are visiting some relations in Stony Hill.
They won't be back until late."

"Then it's just going to be you and me. That's fine."

"As long as you don't mind your old man's company."

"As long as you don't give me a reason to mind his company." Sinclair smiled cheekily at her father.

They sat down at the kitchen table with freshly made carrot juice and two plates piled high with food.

"For a skinny girl you sure can eat."

"I'm not that skinny."

"True. Not as skinny as when you first got here. You
gained a little weight since last month."

He was right. Sinclair remembered standing in front of the
mirror at Hunter's house staring at what she had suddenly realized was a new body. Her ribs, concave stomach, and hip
bones that had stood out like bayonets were all now covered
by healthy new layers of flesh.

"Thanks. I feel really good. Thank you for allowing me to
stay with you for my trip."

"I'm glad that I have the home to share. When I saw you
in that airport looking so much like your mother it made me
feel close to her again. It's been a happiness having you here.
I know Nikki feels the same way, although for different reasons."

Moisture tickled the corners of Sinclair's eyes. That was
the last thing she'd expected her father to say, especially after
the disturbance caused by her affair with Hunter.

"So you're not angry about Hunter and me?"

"No. I'm not thrilled about it, especially since Lydia ended
up being hurt, but I'm not angry. Nikki and I have been talking about this and she helped me realize that we all need
companionship, whether it's for a lifetime or for a week, we
crave it. It doesn't matter that you find it with a woman. At
least it doesn't matter to me. I've never been in a position to
tell another grown person what to do with their life, I'm not
going to have illusions that I am now."

"You know you're pretty enlightened for an old man stuck
in the backwoods of Jamaica." Sinclair teased him with her
smile.

"I should hope so." He pierced a slice of cassava with his
fork.

After dinner, they moved to the verandah with a bottle of
white rum and sat on the steps to share it. The night was fragrant and still. Moonlight turned everything to silver, includ ing the fat clouds hovering low in the sky. Crickets and fireflies serenaded Victor and Sinclair with their night music as
father and daughter talked and breathed in the sweet, dewlathered scent from the crape myrtle trees at the gate.

"I know you've had a good visit so far, but with less than
a week to go, is there anything you'd like to do?"

Sinclair leaned back against the column and thought about
it. Everything had been so perfect-well, except for a few unpleasant moments here and there. "I'd love for us all to do
something together before I leave. The family, Hunter, maybe
even Della."

"I'm sure we could arrange that."

"Good."

'he day of Sinclair's get-together dawned bright and
sunny. She woke up with butterflies in her belly after she
turned over and noticed that Hunter was gone. During the
night, her lover had simply held her, breathing with her until
the first trickles of light began to leak across the horizon.
Sinclair had felt her pull away but instantly fell back into
sleep even before the window slid open to let her out. Now,
finally awake, she hated the cold spot next to her, and wished
that Hunter had stayed.

She left the bed for a shower, staying under the lukewarm
spray until her skin pruned and the water turned cold. Nikki
knocked on the bathroom door and came in, still in her night
clothes, to talk. She stayed in the bathroom when Sinclair left
to get dressed. Xavier was excited, chattering about the coming backyard cookout to anyone who would listen. He tugged
Sinclair's skirt as soon as she stepped out of the bedroom,
asking if Hunter was coming. When she told him yes, he
bounded off, even happier, to get something that he'd made
in school for his friend.

Her father asked if she was OK. She reassured him, but
could not reassure herself as she wandered through the day
in a daze, appetite set on ravenous, but being unable to focus
on anything except the floating feeling inside her. It wasn't
pleasant.

When the time came for the party, she showered and
changed again, was prepared to be social and gregarious and
charming, because this was the last time she'd see all these
people in the same place again. Della came first, floating up
the walk in something light and gauzy that made her look
like a mother sex goddess. She greeted Sinclair with lavish
kisses and extravagant compliments on her appearance and
on how much Sinclair's visit had meant to her.