While Ethan observed the sharks, her own gaze was trained on him. She thought how very much in his element he was, surrounded by reef and fish. She looked upward, searching for the sharks. The silvery reflection of the water cast undulating shadows against the walls. When she lowered her head again she gasped. Ethan was looking directly at her from inside the tank. Fish swirled around him, a kaleidoscope of color, but he seemed unaware of anything except for her.
They stood for several minutes staring silently at one another. Then he slowly swam to the edge of the tank, stopping at the wall that separated them. He raised his hand and pressed his palm flat against the glass, reaching out, she knew, to her.
Her heart beat fast as she felt again the strange bond between them. It was a force of its own with the power to pull her closer to him. She walked across the carpet toward him, her arm slowly rising en route. His eyes
shone in the wedge of mask. Reaching him, she pressed her hand against the cool glass to meet his. Palm to palm, the connection was visceral, as though their skin really touched. Her palm was aflame and the sensations coursed through her bloodstream, sending her heart pumping hard and her breath to come in short pants. She
knew
that he felt the same, soul stirring connection.
The sand tiger shark swam by, his long sleek body veering closer this time. She turned her head to follow the menacing path. Ethan, too, swung his head, alert to the subtle change in the shark’s pattern. From above, his back-up diver was signaling for his attention.
He dropped his hand. The moment was broken.
Toy retracted hers and looked at it, still feeling the strange tingling in her palm. Something important had just happened between them. She couldn’t name it but felt it as surely as if she’d been struck by lightning. Looking back at the tank, she saw Ethan swimming into the coral reef. Bewildered, Toy turned and walked away.
The sky darkened and Toy walked across the living room to the rear window to peer out at the western sky. She heard a low, faint rumbling in the heavens. A gust of cool breeze, heavy with the scent of rain, poured over her. A hard rain was coming. She could feel it in her bones.
The rumbling storm suited her introspective mood. She still felt the strange, evocative connection she’d experienced with Ethan. She felt it swirling just under her skin. It had the power to take her breath away.
But, had it all been her imagination? Was she reading too much into it, like some lovesick school girl? She didn’t need this nonsense now, she told herself. She was leaving for Costa Rica tomorrow morning.
She reached out, and with a firm push, closed the window. The old wood rumbled down the track and sealed just as the first, fat drops of rain hit the porch. It was just the oncoming storm that had brought the goose bumps to her skin, she told herself. Her moodiness was simply the anxiety of an inexperienced traveler about to embark on her first solo journey.
Again thunder rumbled, closer this time, and the rain pattered noisily on the tin roof. Toy walked through the small living room turning on all the lamps. Soon the room was bathed in soft, yellow light. She looked around, feeling secure in the warmth of familiar things. Down the hall, Lovie was tucked in bed, her story read and her teeth brushed. The airplane tickets were in her purse on the hall table, and beside it was her computer and important papers. She was packed, the final arrangements were completed. All was in order. She released a deep sigh. She was ready to go.
Outside, she heard Darryl’s heavy footfall coming up the stairs. She turned her head in time to see him enter the room and wipe his feet on the kitchen mat. When he looked up, she noticed that his longish dark hair was damp from the rain.
“You’re all set. I put the suitcase in your car,” he said, closing the door behind him. He wiped his hands on his thighs and his pale eyes softened as he took in the dim light of the room. “It looks right cozy in here.”
“Thanks,” Toy replied, meaning it. He’d been a great help in closing up the house and running last minute errands. In the past few months he’d shown a side of himself that she’d missed, a caring and dependable side of someone who helped makes life easier. “Thanks for everything.”
She went to the counter to the long “to do” list she’d made for herself. Picking up a pencil, she started crossing items off. She was startled when she felt Darryl’s arms slide around her from behind.
She dropped her pencil and stiffened in his arms. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just getting close.” His voice was a velvety purr at her ear. “You’re leaving, after all. I want to say a proper goodbye.”
She closed her eyes and held her breath as his head lowered and his lips feather kissed her neck.
“Darryl,” she said in a soft moan, “Don’t. I’ve got so much to do.”
He turned her in his arms and his gaze was heavy and seductive. She smelled his aftershave and was struck with a sudden flash of déjà-vu. She felt once more the young girl who felt safe and secure against a harsh world in this man’s arms.
His hand slid up her back to cup her head and she felt their breaths mingle as he moved her face closer to his. Toy closed her eyes, and whether from habit or inevitability, she relinquished.
Darryl’s lips were full and trembled with passion. He’d always been a good kisser. Yet as he pressed against her, something was missing from her reaction. She felt cold and distanced from the kiss, as though it were happening to someone else. It felt somehow wrong.
“Darryl, stop.” Toy pushed her hands against Darryl’s shoulder. She turned her head, tearing her lips away. “I can’t do this.”
He froze, his arms holding tight. Then, slowly, he let her slide back. His eyes reflected confusion and the embers of passion. “You used to like my kisses.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Darryl, I can’t,” she said softly, not wishing to hurt him. “I don’t want to.”
“Hey, okay,” he said, but it sounded automatic. He took a deep breath and looked away, pursing his lips, like he was trying to put together what was happening. Then he swung his head back and his eyes flashed.
“Toy, I still don’t get it. I’ve been trying real hard to please you and you keep shooting me down. Girl, you’ve got to offer me some hope.”
She took a breath, digging deep, knowing with every fiber of her being what was the honest answer. “I can’t offer you hope. I can’t offer you anything more than what we have right now. A friendship. A bond with Lovie. That’s all.”
He looked broadsided. “Then what’s this all been about?” he asked in a strained voice.
“You asked for the chance to get to know your daughter. I wanted you to have that chance.”
“Are you telling me that you and I didn’t have something going on here? ’Cause I felt it, babe.” He pounded his chest where his heart was. “I felt it.”
She swallowed hard, feeling broken. She sought out his gaze, wanted to hold it so when she spoke he would understand that her words came from her heart. “You’re right. There was something there. Darryl, I knew you wanted to get back together, the way we used to be. And I didn’t do anything to discourage it. I…I guess I needed to find out if I still had feelings for you. I
wanted
it to work, can you understand that? I’ve always wanted for us to be a family. I used to dream of it. I begged you for it, don’t you remember?”
His face tightened and he nodded. “I was a goddamn fool.”
“I never had a family of my own and I wanted that for Lovie. You’re so good with her. I thought if I could meet you halfway and we both worked at it, then maybe we could make a go of it together. We could be a family, for Lovie.”
“And I want that. You know I do! You got to know I love you. Toy, I’ve never stopped loving you.”
“Yes, you did,” she blurted back. “Darryl,
yes, you did!
” She took a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. “But it’s okay,” she said with calm certainty. “Because I stopped loving you, too.”
He stared at her a long moment, taking her words in. Then he shook his head, as though shaking off a stupor. “Well, that’s it then.”
He walked to the sofa to pick up his denim jacket, his heavy heels reverberating in the tense silence.
“Darryl…”
“What?” His voice was sharp with annoyance.
Taken aback, she clenched her hands at her thighs, then went to pick up an envelope on the counter, and without speaking, held it out for him to take.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking at it like it was dirt.
“It’s a list of all the phone numbers, addresses and information you’ll need while I’m gone. It’s all arranged for you to take Lovie to the museum on Saturday.” She spoke in a lifeless tone. “That is, if you still want to.”
“Hell, yes, I want to! Why wouldn’t I? She’s not kicking me out of her life too, is she?”
Toy looked up sharply. She heard his hurt in his voice, and the first rumblings of his anger. “No, of course not.
I’m glad you want to see her. She’s really looking forward to spending the day with you.”
He looked out the window, clearly anxious to get out. There was no point in prolonging this. “Lovie will be at Cara’s house while I’m gone. You’ll find her address and phone number in here. If you have any questions, call Cara. My cell phone won’t work in Costa Rica.”
She lifted the envelope and held it out to him again.
He looked at the envelope like he wasn’t sure whether to take it or hurl it in her face. He snatched it roughly from her hands and turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him.
T
oy stepped from the plane into the moist, humid air of the tropics.
She’d never traveled before but now she knew what the word
foreign
meant. The airport was a vast and cleared square of grass and cement surrounded by a chain link fence and, in the distance, mountains. In the center of the square was a grey metal warehouse that was the main terminal. The tropical sun was hot and beat relentlessly upon the weary travelers emerging from the jet. Toy followed the queue through the metal gates to the terminal.
After her papers were stamped, she craned her neck in search of someone carrying a sign with her name on it. A coterie of people pulling luggage gathered in a patch of shade by the front entrance. She joined them, removing her jacket, rolling up her sleeves and slipping off her socks.
After a short wait her eye was caught by a striking young man with dark golden skin and dreadlocks that flowed from his head to his shoulders. He wore baggy shorts, lengths of wooden beads around his neck and moved with an easy, island manner. When he spotted her, he smiled widely revealing a boyish grin that made his
blue eyes brighten against his tan. He lifted a crinkled piece of paper over his head so she could read her name scrawled across it in black ink. Relieved, she waved him over.
“My name’s Rafael,” he said in British English. “I’ve come to fetch you and bring you to Playa Grande. Is that all your luggage? Right then, let me take it. Follow me.”
He was very efficient, despite his appearance, and she remembered Miss Lovie telling her never to judge a book by its cover. She hoped his mama told him the same thing because in contrast, she looked like some old schoolteacher, out of sync with the relaxed island garb of the natives.
She grabbed her camera before he tossed her suitcase inside a hot, dusty Jeep with all the windows either rolled down or missing. After she buckled up, he turned his head, and with a cocky grin told her, “Buckle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
And lord, it was. Once they left the Pan American Highway, it was dirt roads all the way, most of them heavily pocked with huge craters steeped in mud that forced drivers to crawl around them over walkways, rocks, anything passable. September was in the rainy season and the roads were little better than mudslides. She sat by the open window and gawked, spellbound by the gorgeous and exotic country.
In the distance, mountains that Rafael told her were home to coffee plantations disappeared in misty clouds. Closer to the coast, banana plantations and small towns were carved into the rain soaked jungle. Locals were cheery and seemingly oblivious to the road conditions. Children wearing backpacks were returning home from school, skinny dogs and feral cats ran wild, and a Brahmin bull stopped traffic as it meandered across the road.
The fields were aflame with color. Tropical flowers hung from the trees, gathered wild along the roadside, and spilled from containers at the modest homes they passed. Birds soared in the sky and roosted in trees, and occasionally, she heard a strange, bellowing roar from the trees that Rafael told her was the Mono, or the howler monkey. The only thing that Toy found unsettling was the number of For Sale signs that dotted the property all along the major roads. Rafael sadly shook his head and told her that, as far as he could tell, the whole country was for sale. She replied that she often felt the same way about the lowcountry.
Rafael was good company and seemed to know where he was going as he readily skirted the mudslides, craters, bulls and even a small river that coursed over the road. Toy had learned never to drive into fast moving water so she gripped the dashboard with white knuckles when Rafael plowed through.
“Qué hombre!”
she muttered, half as a compliment, half as a tease. He turned his head, grinning with pleasure.
At last Rafael turned into a narrow, winding road that led to a cluster of low wood buildings. Beyond, she caught a glimpse of the mighty blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Her spirits soared.
“Welcome to Villa Baulas,” he said coming to a stop in the small gravel parking lot.
Villa Baulas was an ecological beach hotel made up of three low-slung, wood buildings and a few quaint bungalows on stilts, all built in the simple Tico style of mahogany and bamboo. After promising to meet Rafael for a beer later, she was led by a smiling woman past thickets of trees, a swimming pool nestled beside a
thatched roof restaurant, to one of the wooden buildings on stilts that faced the ocean. As she climbed the stairs, she thought she was entering a tree house. The sun was just setting as she reached her floor and she paused to look out through the thorny trees.
She sighed with relief. Fifty yards beyond lay a serene blue ocean, only this wasn’t the Atlantic Ocean, but the Pacific! Still, the sight of ocean and sand were touch-stones. After driving through jungle and mountains, she felt at home.
The road dust, heat and humidity clung to her like a heavy coat. When the door to her small, dark paneled room closed, she dropped her bags to the floor with a thud and immediately peeled off her sticky clothes
“I’m really here!” she exclaimed. She stood naked with her arms spread, relishing the modest breeze from the overhead fan. The shower was tiny and there was no hot water. Still, the tepid water that trickled in a miserly stream from the dangling showerhead felt glorious and she relished each drop as it cleansed away the miles she’d traveled. Tilting her head back she imagined all the confusion and hassles and heartache and responsibilities that she’d left behind flowing down from her shoulders, swirling at her feet and sliding away down the drain.
She dressed in shorts and a cotton shirt and joined the others at the open-air restaurant for dinner. These twenty-some interns chose to stay at the cheaper, local hotel rather than the fancier hotel in Tamarindo. It was a young group and they were already sitting at the tables under the great thatched roof that spread out over the area like an umbrella. Everyone was leisurely drinking beers, laughing and eating their meals. She walked up to the res
taurant feeling out of place. She didn’t know anyone. Rafael came up to greet her and took her under his wing.
“Hey, everyone, this Nina Bonita is Toy Sooner from the United States. She’s joining us.” Calls of welcome sang out like birdsong and she was quickly introduced to the others who’d traveled to Villa Baulas to attend the symposium and work with the sea turtles.
Rafael never left her side. He was friendly and attentive, getting her a beer and finding her a seat at his table. Flirtation was an art form with him, but he was never forward. She like him enormously and was comfortable spending time with him, intrigued by the underlying attraction between them. She guessed he was somewhere in his late twenties, as were most of the other interns. In all, with spouses, girlfriends and two children, the group filled all twenty rooms of the hotel. The officials of the Foundation stayed at the fancier meeting hotel in the town of Tamarindo, but the Villa Baulas was cheaper, and more important, smack on the beach where the leatherbacks nested.
It was a balmy night, though Toy was surprised that the weather did not cool down after dark like it did on Isle of Palms. But it was relatively bug free. Rafael advised her to skip the “American” menu and order
Tico
style. So she feasted on grilled fish, black beans and rice, all washed down with cool beer. As the night wore on she learned the interns came from all over Costa Rica, the Americas and Europe. They went to different schools, held different jobs, had different goals, but they were united by their common devotion to sea turtles.
Later, one of the men played the guitar and she dangled her legs in the pool with the others while drinking beer and sharing stories. Toy discovered that
she’d just missed the
arribada
in Ostional. They regaled her with stories of the armada of hundreds of determined, scrambling Olive Ridley turtles that came ashore night after night for a week to lay thousands of eggs in a frenzy of nesting. The turtles came in waves, crushing eggs laid the previous night as they dug new nests.
“It was like Normandy Beach, man,” Rafael told her. He had her laughing till her sides hurt when he did his imitation of a black vulture lurking in a nearby tree, watching and waiting to feast.
“Just my luck to miss it,” she told them, then admitted what she really wanted to see was a leatherback.
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it,” an intern told her. “It’s early for leatherbacks.”
Rafael sat beside her at the pool. His legs were thin but muscled and feathered with long, soft hair. “It’s not a good situation. Last year was the worst year on record for nests. And unfortunately, they’re not expecting this year to be any better. Thanks to long-line fishing and zero international cooperation, we’re killing off an ancient species.”
“Maybe,” Toy replied. She lazily kicked her legs in the water. “But hope springs eternal, eh?”
Rafael clinked bottles with her. “So, you’re an optimist? I like that. You need to be in this business.”
She leaned back on her arms and grew suddenly quiet as her thoughts turned to Ethan. What had he called her?
Unflinchingly optimistic
. She wondered what he was doing now, so far away in Charleston.
The following day was all business. To get to the symposium in the town of Tamarindo they had the choice of taking an arduous car trip through the muddy roads, or a short boat ride across the estuary that separated the town from Playa Grande. They all opted for the boat.
During the day they attended the meetings and in the late afternoon she went shopping in the charming town of Tamarindo. She fingered the coins that Ethan had given her, and on impulse bought him a T-shirt with a chart of shark species on the back. She found another T-shirt with a leatherback sea turtle on it for Lovie, and a pottery vase with a primitive turtle on it for Cara. Her shopping done, she met the group at the boat dock for a ride back to the Villa Baulas.
Everyone was talking about going out later for drinks and dancing.
Rafael hooked her waist. “Come on, Nina Bonita. Let’s go.”
“Oh, no,” she replied self-consciously, uncoiling herself from his arm. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired. Besides, I can’t dance.”
He laughed. “Everybody can dance.”
“Not me.”
“Then I’ll teach you!”
Toy remembered how, when she was young, she used to love to dance in front of the mirror while the radio played. She didn’t know any popular steps, but she enjoyed just moving to the music. Once, her mama had caught her dancing alone in the house. She’d hooted at her mockingly, telling her,
You dance like you’ve got two left feet.
Toy shook her head, backing away. “I’m hopeless, believe me. Anyway I want to be here at the hotel in case a guide calls.”
The public was not allowed on Playa Grande at night because it was a protected nesting ground of the nearly extinct leatherback sea turtles. If a leatherback was spotted on the beach, the alert came by walkie-talkie from the park rangers who patrolled the beach.
Rafael looked at her like she was crazy. “A leatherback isn’t coming tonight, Bonita. They won’t be here for at least another week or so. Come on, Toy,” he said, seductively tugging the hem of her shirt. “Let me teach you how to dance.”
“You go ahead,” she said, relieved that the small boat had arrived at the dock to ferry them across the inlet.
After a shower, she decided to walk the beach before dinner. The surfers had gone for the day and only a magnificent frigate bird, with its pointy M shaped wings, soared over the waves.
Her first night had been filled with the excitement of her arrival in the foreign country and meeting her fellow interns. Tonight, however, she felt her separateness acutely. Her heart was inexplicably heavy with homesickness. She walked along the pristine shoreline, acutely aware that it was not
her
shoreline. She worried about Lovie, if she was well, happy, even if she missed her mother. Everywhere she turned she saw something that made her think of her. Wouldn’t Lovie enjoy this shell? Wouldn’t she love to play in this cresting surf? How Lovie would laugh at the enormous iguana that lounged by the pool!
She’d expected to face a host of things new, to feel naive, even gullible, on her first trip outside the country. But she didn’t expect to feel such loneliness. The ferocity of it surprised her. After dinner, she couldn’t bear the thought of going dancing. So when most of the others had driven to town, she sunk into the fiery red hammock that hung in the corner of the porch outside her room to read material from the meetings. But her gaze wandered from the page to the Pacific in the distance.
The gentle rocking of the hammock and the ocean
breeze lulled her to sleep. She awoke with a start to a firm shaking of her shoulders. Opening her eyes, she was stunned to discover that it was pitch black.
Rafael raised his flashlight, his eyes bright with excitement. “Toy! Wake up! We got the call!”
“What?” she asked, groggy.
“There’s a leatherback about a half mile up the beach. Grab your gear.” Then with a laugh he added, “You know this turtle came early, just for you.”
She felt electrified and practically fell out of the hammock in her scramble to get out. Her hands were shaking as she collected her backpack from her room then ran to meet Rafael. He led her through the deep darkness past the thicket of trees to the hotel’s beach gate where a resident marine biologist and a local ranger with a large flashlight were waiting to check off their names.
Only a handful of the interns assembled, the rest having gone dancing, and they could talk of nothing but how early in the season this nesting turtle was. The dark eyed, gruff guide was fiercely protective of his stretch of beach. If someone on the list was late, he didn’t care. He wouldn’t allow stragglers onto Playa Grande at nightfall. Once he was satisfied that his group was organized, he ordered them to, “Pair up, stay close and keep up!”
Toy paired up with Rafael. She’d thought she was in pretty good shape but she had a hard time keeping up as they hiked at a clipped pace toward the small dot of light at the far end of the beach. She panted as she sprinted across the half mile of soft sand.