3 Weeks 'Til Forever (2 page)

Chapter
3: Janey

After
a four-and-a-half hour flight from New York’s LaGuardia airport, Janey arrived
at the tiny airport in
Sol y Besos
rather refreshed.

The
owner of a network of travel blogs, she travelled at least six months out of
the year. Hence, she was a seasoned traveler who knew how – for the most part –
to beat the travel-weary blues.

Athenos
International, the main airport in
Sol y Besos
, was small compared to
many she’d been in.

Janey
was able to quickly get through customs; exchange some money at the currency exchange
desk; claim the one duffel bag she’d packed at the luggage carousel; and dip
into the bright sunshine to the waiting taxis, one of which would carry her to
her hotel 45-minutes away.

By
the time she arrived and checked into Mirabella Bay, she’d been travelling for
almost nine hours. An insomniac for the most part, she had no problems sleeping
on trains, planes and automobiles.

She
didn’t think much of her sleeping habits, simply putting them down to a side
effect of her globe-trotting career. Her mother, on the other hand, had often
exclaimed that said she had the weirdest sleeping habits of any person she’d
ever known.

“Janey
Belle Coltrane, how in the heck can you fall asleep in two seconds on a plane
with a screaming baby, but can’t for the life of you get one good wink of rest
in your own bed? I swear, I’ll never understand.”

Janey
grinned at this thought as she changed into a sky blue bikini and prepared her
beach bag for the trek down to the powder white sands of the main beach in
Sol
y Besos
.

She’d
slept fitfully on the plane, getting in at least three hours on the
four-and-a-half hour flight, so she felt pretty rested. She actually liked her
sleeping habits because while she loved arriving at whatever her destination
was, she hated the actual travel part.

And,
she put her inability to sleep to work for her – literally. Janey often wrote
posts for her travel blogs late at night and/or edited the submissions of the
four, full-time travel writers she had on staff and the 20 or so freelancers
she regularly accepted submissions from.  

At
33, Janey was proud of the business – and the life – she’d built. If someone
had told her that she’d be a writer on her 30
^th
birthday, she would
have laughed herself silly. She’d never aspired to be a writer – ever.

At
27, she had a high-paying job as a corporate recruiter. With a base salary plus
commissions, she was earning close to a quarter of a million dollars per year.
A company credit card and liberal expense account rounded out the plum
position.

With
a cute, rent-stabilized, sizable (for Manhattan) one-bedroom apartment in the
middle of Times Square as home base, she travelled for her job frequently and
couldn’t have been happier.

At
30, the bottom fell out of her life – personally and professionally.

Her
mother – the foundation of everything she was – was diagnosed with and died
from ovarian cancer.

She
found out that her best girlfriend of over 15 years had slept with her
boyfriend. Even though it had only been once – she’d been devastated.

Because
of her mother’s illness, she’d had no room on her emotional plate to deal with
this betrayal, so she cut ties with both of them. And it was right on the tails
of this that her boss called her in the office one day to inform her that she
was being laid off.

.
. . valuable employee . . . 

.
. . hate to have to let you go . . .

.
. . anything you need . . .

.
. . sorry about your mother . . .

Snippets
of phrases – this was all Janey had heard as she sat on the edge of her chair,
looking at her now ex-boss across the plain, wood-veneered desk.

As
she shook his hand and accepted the envelope which contained the details of her
generous severance package, all she could think was,
Whoever said it comes
in like a lion and goes out like a lamb wasn’t lying. Only they weren’t talking
about spring; they were talking about my life this year.

All
of this had happened within the span of a few short months.

With
summer about to burst onto the scene, Janey felt like she was about to burst to
– only she didn’t know with what. Rage, fear, bitterness, apathy, depression .
. . sheer lunacy?

She
just had no idea.

It
had been this way since her mother’s death in April three years earlier.
Spring, going into summer always brought a sense of restlessness and uneasiness
with it for her.

She
knew why and was learning to deal with it. But in order to cope, she still had a
tendency to embrace only what she was sure of and comfortable with at any given
moment.

And
– the only thing Janey was sure of
at this moment
was that she was too
pale and needed some rays from that Caribbean sun to kiss her bright skin.

Living
in New York, she had a tendency to turn several shades lighter during the
winter months. So she ran to the tropics as often as she could to get that
even, cocoa hue she loved that came when she spent just a few days in the sun.

Marilene,
Janey’s mother, had been a petite, dark-skinned beauty. A southern belle, her
mother had instilled in her good manners; she’d also inherited her independent
streak and flawless skin.

Her
father had been a tall, lanky, light-skinned brother – from the south as well.
Janey had inherited his quick, sardonic wit; doe-shaped eyes; and natural
ability to sum up situations and people in a flash.

Both
were gone now.

Her
father had died when she was 14 and her mother’s death three years ago had made
her an orphan. The first time this occurred to her, it felt strange. After all,
weren’t orphans kids? But, that’s the feeling that engulfed her. Having been a
only child, she felt small and alone in the world.

The
characteristics she inherited from her parents served her well – personally and
professionally. It was one of the reasons she was so disappointed that she
didn’t see or sense what had gone on between Michelle and Jamal, her best
friend and boyfriend.

One
thing her mother’s death had taught her though was to not be so hard on herself
because life was just too damned short.

Their
“indiscretion” as they put it, had only happened once – or so they said. As
she’d always placed her career first, she’d probably been too absorbed in her work
to pick up on any signs. So she gave herself a break and silently sent up a
thank you to her mom, who she knew was responsible for this reasoned line of
thought.

As
Janey made her way to the beach, these were the thoughts running through her
head. She’d been relieving a lot of tough moments in her life since her
mother’s death. Some days, they bothered her. But on her best days, she
embraced them.

At
these times, she felt like her parents were talking to her – still trying to be
there for her – by having her relive and learn from these tough life lessons.

.
. .

Determined
to enjoy the latest novel she’d downloaded to her Kindle, Janey slipped the
white bikini wrap over her head, settled her fit frame into the plush padding
on the beach chair, and slid her prescription reading sunglasses into place on
her button-shaped nose.

The
tropical breeze danced over her skin, cooling it perfectly from the hotness of
the sun. Even though she travelled thousands of miles per year and had
frolicked on some of the most beautiful beaches in the world,
Sol y Besos
was her favorite.

The
sand was soft – it felt like powder under your feet.

The
water was a painter’s palette of blues and greens – turquoise in some spots,
baby blue in others, navy in certain depths and emerald green in yet others.
And the warmth – it felt like bath water.

You
never had to shiver, shake or squeal to ease yourself in.

You
just immersed – and enjoyed.

Chapter
4: The Sighting

After
a quick dip in the sea, Janey grabbed her wallet and headed to the bar. A
sangria was just what the doctor ordered. As she waited for the bartender to
mix the tropical delight, she spotted a trio of men entering the bar.

One
locked eyes with her immediately and wouldn’t let go. He extended his hand to
the bartender, doing what looked like a ritual handshake that signaled they’d
been friends for years.

All
the while, his deep-set eyes held hers in a Cobra-like stare; they just
wouldn’t let go.

Standing
there in nothing but her light-blue bikini, Janey felt exposed in more ways
than one.

A
marathon runner, she was physically fit and quite comfortable with her body. It
was the
way
he looked at her that made her feel so exposed – as if he knew
her secret places and had already explored them.

Shaking
off this feeling of intimacy emanating from a complete stranger, she quickly
paid the bartender, grabbed her drink and headed back to her beach chair. Janey
felt his eyes on her the entire way.

As
the cool, fruity liquid traversed her parched throat, she started to relax
again – even though the image of the tall, dark stranger stayed with her.
Surprised at this, she pushed thoughts of him firmly from her mind as she
settled back down with her Kindle to resume her novel.

Adjusting
herself on the beach lounger, a smile of contentment caused the corners of her
full lips to turn up as she thought about a comment the main character in her
novel made. At this precise moment, a shadow blocked the warming rays of the
sun.

She
looked up to see the cause and there he stood – the dark, broad stranger from
the bar.

Chapter
5: The Meeting

Extending
a large hand, he said, “Good afternoon, I’m Redmond. What’s your name?”

She
couldn’t fault him for his manners, even if he was a bit forward. Deciding to
see how far he was willing to take his boldness, Janey responded, “JC.”

“JC?”

“No
mother would name her daughter that; especially one as beautiful as you. What
does JC stand for?”

Janey
was struck by how insightful he was. It reminded her of her father’s ability to
size people and situations up quickly. Holding her head back a little further
to look up at him, she said, “Janey Coltrane.”

“Just
Janey Coltrane?” he questioned. “If you’d been a male child, I would believe
you were given such a short, succinct name, but ‘just’ Janey Coltrane doesn’t
quite fit. Will you please tell me your full birth name?”

Damn
he was bold – and insightful
– she couldn’t help but think.

“As
it seems I’m being interrogated Mr. ahh ‘Redmond,’ can you first tell me what
goes with Redmond. Is that a first name, surname, middle name or nickname? Is
it even your real name?”

“I
am Redmond Charleston Hillyard,” he declared, rather than stated, like a man who
knew exactly who he was and what he wanted at all times.

In
the face of such directness, Janey couldn’t help but answer his question in
kind, so she responded, “If you must know, my full name is Janey Belle
Coltrane.”

“I’m
actually not fond of my middle name and my first name sounds too much like the
moniker a 12-year-old girl would have, so ever since I can remember, when asked
my name, I just say JC.”

“I
can count on one hand the number of people who’ve ever questioned me about it.
And only my parents ever got away with calling me anything else. My mom called
me Janey Belle and my dad always called me by just my first name.”

Stopping
herself, because she had a tendency to prattle on when she was nervous, Janey
wasn’t sure why she was nervous or why she’d revealed such personal information
– even though it was harmless – to a complete stranger.

It
was unlike her because she tended to be guarded until she got to know someone
really well.

Looking
into her sun-glass covered eyes, Redmond said, “I’m going to call you Janey. JC
sounds too masculine for such a tiny, beautiful woman.”

It
didn’t escape Janey that he hadn’t asked, but stated as fact, that that was how
he would refer to her. Usually, she would never have allowed this but somehow,
she couldn’t imagine him calling her JC any more than he obviously wasn’t going
to.

“Do
you mind if I sit down beside you Janey?” he asked, testing her name to see how
it sounded when he said it.

She
was thrown off by how direct and assertive he could be at one moment, then
polite and almost unsure at others.

Pulling
her beach wrap tightly around her, she simply said, “Sure.”

Janey
hated talking to people with their sunglasses on; she was direct and liked that
eye-to-eye connection. Somehow though, she wasn’t ready to be direct with this
man so she left them on.

He
looked at her as if to say,
I know why you’re not taking those off
, even
though they were at the beach and the sun was shining and she had every
legitimate reason to keep them on.

Redmond
lowered his length onto the padded beach lounger, but he didn’t lay back, as
Janey was doing. He positioned himself on the end so he could sit and take in
her full frame at a glance.

Seeing
him sitting in this position, she wasn’t sure why she’d allowed him to
interrupt her beach time. He seemed almost threatening, like a lion waiting to
pounce. But she wasn’t afraid – at least not of his physical presence.

She
was disturbed by the attraction she had for him. It had been a long time since
any man had captured her attention. Since her mother’s death three years ago,
she’d focused all her attention on her business.

And
even though her best friend Carita had told her she shouldn’t be wasting her
‘pretty years,’ she just couldn’t stomach the complications that came with a
relationship.

“So
what brings you to my island?” Redmond broke through her self-reflective
reverie.

“Actually,
work – and to get in some R and R.”

“R
and R?” Redmond questioned.

“Rest
and relaxation,” Janey explained.

“In
my culture, when one wants rest and relaxation, the natural place for it is
home.
Sol y Besos
is obviously not your home, so why do you have to go
away to get some ‘R and R?’” as you say?”

“You’re
right, obviously your beautiful island is not my home. I live in New York City,
a very crowded, noisy concrete jungle, as we natives call it. I love it with
every fiber of my being and can’t imagine living any place else, but it’s not
the most relaxing city in the world.”

“For
my work, I travel a lot, so when I really want to unplug, I always come back to
this paradise. That’s how I think of
Sol y Besos
.”

“Thank
you for speaking so kindly about my island. I’m glad you find it to be a refuge,
even from the home you obviously love so much.”

She
liked the way he referred to his homeland as ‘my island;’ it appealed to the ‘
I’m
connected to and proud of my culture
’ part of her conscious.

“What
is this work that brings you here?” Redmond asked.

Janey
gave Redmond a rundown of her business, told him how and why she started it and
some funny anecdotes from some of the places she’d been.

There’d
been the snake in the hut in the jungle in Brazil; the ice storm she’d been
stuck in in
Reykjavík, Iceland; and the bicycle accident in
Amsterdam that left her on crutches for a month.
 

           
Janey had a way of telling stories that made her friends laugh until their
sides hurt. Apparently, she had the same effect on Redmond because his husky
laugh showed his beautiful white teeth a lot that afternoon.

“Wow,
you weren’t kidding when you said you’d been all over the world. I doubt if I
could find half the places you’ve mentioned on a map.”

           
“Travel has been the love of my life since I was a child. I never dreamed that
I would do so much of it.”

           
“The love of your life? Shouldn’t a man hold that title? Who is the love in
your life in the form of a man Janey?”

           
“You Mr. Hillyard ask too many questions. I’ve had a lovely afternoon and now,
I must get some work done.”

           
“Thank you for answering my question and you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

Forehead
wrinkling, Janey responded, “But I didn’t answer your question,” and turned to
gather her belongings from her lounger.

           
Redmond reached down to grab her beach bag to hold it open for her to put her
belongings in, observing, “Ah, but you did. Any woman going to work after
spending time alone on a beach with another man has no man – at least no man
worth
having.”

“If
you were my woman, not only would you not have been sitting on this beach
alone, you definitely would not be going to work
after
you had been
alone for a few hours.”

“I’d
have other plans for you.”