Paradise Found (11 page)

Chapter 16

Everything was going wrong! Victoria was beginning to think that someone had cursed her with
grigri,
island voodoo. After five weeks of sitting on her proposal, the authorities had yet to approve construction of her home. She had anxiously awaited her mail from the States only to see that her dividend checks were less than she had anticipated. Everywhere she turned she seemed to see an advertisement for an Eden resort and the yellow helicopters of Paradise Air seemed to fly overhead with more frequency than she had remembered. The daily newspaper,
The Seychelles Nation,
featured a photograph of Justin holding a trophy and being lauded for his soccer expertise. The article below stated that the boy had won a ten-day trip to a soccer academy in Great Britain. Though proud of Justin, his smiling face just reminded her of all she had missed and all she wasn’t a part of. To make things worse, a
katiti,
a Seychelles kestrel roosted on the roof, a sure sign of bad luck.

To escape the house and her mother’s constant ranting and advising, Victoria decided to accept an old friend’s invitation to join her for lunch. As a treat, she packed a picnic basket and drove down the Sans Souci up to the tea plantation where her friend worked in packaging.

Lush tea bushes lined the gently rolling mountain slopes, a sea of fresh green. Men hunched over picking tender young sprouts off the bushes. At the nearby processing plant, the leaves would be put out to dry, shredded, forced through a sieve and processed into tea bags. Victoria knew the process well. As a teen she had spent a few months hand-packing tea leaves in the factory, a job her friend, Doris, still held.

Entering the sweet-smelling factory building, she saw Doris seated on the floor, dipping her fingers in glue and pasting labels on glass coffee jars. Coffee was imported from Sri Lanka but packaged at the plant for Seychellois use. Doris looked up with an ivory smile on a charcoal face. Victoria smiled back.

“
Bonzour. Konman sava?”
Doris greeted.

“Byen mersi,”
Victoria replied.

Doris rose, smoothed her faded cotton dress. After whispering to a co-worker who stood nearby shrink-wrapping cellophane on boxes, she ambled over to Victoria.

“I can take a half-hour break,” Doris said.

“I brought a surprise.” Victoria lifted the wicker picnic basket.

Doris giggled.

They walked to a picnic table set outside the tea tavern. Victoria set the basket on top and opened the lid
.
She withdrew foil wrapped fried chicken, fried breadfruit, and a fruit salad with papaya, mango and pineapple. Handing a plastic plate and plastic utensils to Doris, she sat across from her.

“Doris, I thought you deserved a treat,” Victoria said.

“A treat indeed. Is that Bessye’s
famous chicken recipe?” Doris reached for a piece and placed it on her plate.

“Yes, but I made it myself.”

“You can cook?” Doris’ thick brows shot up.

“Of course. I’ve lived on my own long enough that it was either learn to cook or starve.” Victoria filled her own plate.

“I thought Americans and Europeans ate at restaurants.”Victoria chuckled. “Only once in a while, silly.”

A couple strolled hand-in-hand out of the tea tavern and into the sunlight. Victoria wouldn’t have noticed them except for the man’s height and his distinctive yellow polo shirt. She almost choked on her food. The man seemed in deep conversation with the woman, oblivious to his surroundings as he led her down the path toward the road.

What the hell is Daemon Wells doing at the tea
plantation, and who is that woman?
She squinted to get a clearer view of the woman. She was shorter than Daemon and much younger. An exotic floral print dress wrapped around her willowy frame and accented her mahogany skin. Her black hair flowed in waves down to her narrow shoulders. Her silhouette revealed classical Indian features. When Daemon’s hand moved to encircle the woman’s waist and grasp her in an embrace, Victoria almost screamed
.

“What’s the matter, Victoria? You look as if you’ve seen a
nam
,” Doris asked.

Victoria removed her hands from her face once the couple walked out of sight. Yes, it was almost like seeing a ghost.

“Do you know them?” Doris asked.

“I know
him
.” She choked out the words.

“And not over him?”

Victoria met Doris’ warm gaze. “I have to be over him. Sometimes people are so much alike and have so much in common they are wrong for each other.”

“Or so right they do not see it?” Doris smiled.

Chapter 17

Marcella Gurun was the most capable woman Daemon had ever met and the best general manager of the Shangri La. Not only did she run an efficient and spotless resort, she had been an inspiration to the staff. She had begun her career with Eden Resorts as a chambermaid and through hard labor and the ability to learn quickly, rose through the ranks. Unlike many who had been promoted, she never forgot her humble roots and was respected for it. Her two-year stint as manager of the Shangri La was up and Daemon’s father had rewarded her with the promotion of a lifetime, based on Daemon’s recommendation. Though affiliated with Eden Resorts through his genes, Daemon did keep close watch on Eden’s Seychelles operations in his father’s absence. Once in a while, his father acted on his advice.

Daemon had wanted to talk to Marcella away from the resort where everyone knew her and where the walls had ears. He chose a quiet visit to the tea plantation as a pleasant place to be surprised. Over a cup of vanilla infused tea, he offered her the position of Chief Operations Officer for Eden Resorts, Seychelles, Ltd
.

Marcella beamed with excitement when he offered her the position.

“Mr. Wells, I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered and honored.” She leaned back in her seat and laughed. “And I thought you asked me here for personal reasons.”

He surveyed her flawless face and effervescent smile and wondered why he viewed her merely as an employee when most other men would have viewed her otherwise. Many an employee at Eden Resorts had a crush on her. She was young, beautiful, intelligent and vivacious, highly respected and trustworthy. She could offer everything a man needed. She reminded Daemon of Victoria. He swallowed hard.

Marcella had the ability to keep things professional on the job, one of the reasons he knew she could handle the responsibility of managing three resorts and deserved the promotion
.

“Since my two-year contract was up, I thought I would be transferred,” she purred.

“One contract is ending but a more long-term arrangement is in order.”

“You’ve made my dream come true. I’ve really grown to love the Seychelles and hated to think of having to leave them. Now, I can stay. Not only that, I get to do the job I love with the people I love.” Her brown eyes sparkled with joy as they sought his.

Daemon swallowed hard, meeting her gaze. Marcella was a beautiful person and a capable employee, nothing more.

“Mr. Wells, thank you and, please, do thank your father for me. I can now send for my son knowing that my stay is more permanent here. Though he’ll miss his grandmother, I think he’ll adapt,” she said.

“Fifteen year olds are pretty adaptable,” he said. “I’ll have to introduce your son to Justin.”

“I’m sure he’d love to meet the Island’s football star,” she said. “You’ve spoken of Justin so often, I’d love to see him play.”

“I’m afraid he’ll be off to the football academy in Great Britain soon.”

“Lucky boy. He’s also lucky to have you as a role model.”

Daemon smiled. He pulled out the chair for her and she rose, smoothing her dress. He put out his hand and she took it.

They chatted about the resorts as they left the teahouse and walked down the path toward their parked cars.

“Thank you, Mr. Wells. I will not disappoint you, your father, or Eden Resorts,” she said.

They embraced in parting, Marcella molding herself against the length of his body.

Daemon smiled as he saw her off. He wondered what was wrong with him when a beautiful and intelligent woman like Marcella held so little appeal.

Chapter 18

Victoria shared breakfast with her mother. Usually Bessye was too rushed to eat and had a bus to catch. This morning, Victoria had offered to drive her mother to work. Her mother had protested, not wanting to seem more important than her friends and co-workers by being driven instead of taking public transportation.

The unhurried pace allowed time for omelets from eggs a neighbor generously shared from her coop and fruit handpicked from trees in the yard. Mother and daughter were able to sit at the kitchen table and converse.

“Victoria, you really need to do something. You are far too young and intelligent to sit around,” Bessye said, sipping her strong coffee.

“I’m quite busy with planning my home and life. I have enough money to live on.”

“Money is not as important as using one’s mind and body. I waitress because I like being productive and enjoy meeting people and pleasing them.” Bessye grinned.

Victoria scoffed. “You also have swollen feet to show for it.”

“Child, there is nothing wrong with hard work. Life’s too short to be wasted doing nothing.”

“Life’s too short to be waiting on a bunch of spoiled rich people. You need to take it easy. Why don’t you retire already? I keep telling you that I can support you.” As if her mother would listen. They had gone over this conversation almost daily since Victoria returned home to find her mother tired and weak.

“Hard work has never killed anyone.” Bessye scoffed
.

“I
have
worked hard. Ever since I left the Islands I’ve worked hard, from studying to demanding jobs. I’ve paid my dues. I haven’t been lazy. By moving here I’ve been able to slow the pace of my life. What’s so wrong with that?” Victoria met her mother’s steadfast gaze.

“Just don’t get too comfortable, child.”

Victoria tensed. She hadn’t told her mother of Alexander Wells’ offer of employment. She had been weighing her options ever since their meeting at the Shangri La. Though she was certain her mother would approve, the prospect of working for Alexander Wells was daunting. She was more than capable of doing the job and overseeing the development of her land. She wanted the position, the challenge and the income. She thrived on that. His being Daemon’s father was an issue. Daemon was heir to the empire and would one day be her boss. That was a bridge she would just have to cross when the time came.

After dropping her mother off at the resort, Victoria drove into the city and parked. She needed an escape from her mother. She needed “retail therapy,” a habit she’d acquired while living in the States.

Though downtown Victoria was far from being a city, its quaint pastel and stone shops and bustling traffic offered a hint of hustle and bustle. She made a mental note to plan a flight to Singapore in the near future to really get away. It would also provide the opportunity to visit the headquarters of Eden Resorts before committing to employment.

She strolled Francis Rachel Street and entered Temooljee, the largest store in town. Afterward, she continued on to the shopping arcade. She perused racks of imported
clothing and purchased a floral sundress. Leaving the boutique, she surveyed the goods of a street vendor. A string of freshwater pearls caught her eye. In Kreol, she bargained down the vendor to a price she was willing to pay, and walked away with an opera length strand.

On an island filled with tiny mini-Mokes and Fords, her Volvo stood out. As she drove around the hairpin island curves, she lowered the windows to let in the ocean trade winds and increased the volume on the local island songs. For a moment she felt free and easy like a tourist on holiday. The feeling faded as she approached her mother’s modest home.

The moment she entered the house, the phone was ringing. Victoria dropped her packages and raced to get it.

“
Bonzour,”
she answered.

“
Manmzel Montcherry
?” the voice on the other line inquired.

“
Oui
.”

“I’m Nurse Fanchette at Victoria Hospital. I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.”

Chills ran up and down Victoria’ spine. She gripped the telephone receiver so tight her hands were turning white and numb.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Victoria asked. From past experience, unexpected news from a hospital was seldom good.

“Your mother has been admitted and Doctor Esparon has requested that you come to Victoria Hospital at once.”

Victoria rushed out of the house and hopped in her car. She raced around the winding curves of the coast like a NASCAR driver in a final lap. The nurse had been purposely vague as to her mother’s malady and condition, a sign that things had to be critical. How Victoria managed to get to Victoria Hospital was a miracle. A higher power had to be guiding and safeguarding her journey.

She parked and raced through the front doors of the hospital. At the reception desk, the woman behind the desk told her and Victoria ran off to find the Intensive Care Unit.

She barged into the unit. A nurse stopped her before she could enter the patient area.

“Excuse me. You are?”

“Victoria Montcherry,” she mumbled. Her heart was beating so rapidly she could hardly speak.

“Oh, Miss Montcherry,” the young nurse said in a mellow voice. “I’m Nurse Fanchette. We spoke on the phone.”

“Where is she?” Victoria asked, eyes darting about the space, seeking a sign of her mother.

“Resting. I think it best you speak to Doctor Esparon first.” The nurse pointed to a small office.

Victoria followed the nurse and sat across from a man in a crisp white lab coat, the color in contrast to his dark skin.

“How is she?” Victoria asked, sitting upright in the wood chair as if ready to pounce.

The doctor looked up from a medical chart and met her gaze. His dark eyes were soft with empathy.

“I will be very honest with you, Miss Montcherry. Your mother has suffered a severe heart attack. From what I’ve been told, she was serving guests and suddenly collapsed. She was rushed here.”

“A heart attack?” A punch to her stomach wouldn’t have been as stunning or hurt as bad. If her mother had been retired instead of working, this wouldn’t have happened. Victoria knew she should have insisted her mother stop working. In the battle of wills, her mother had won and now was paying the price.

“As her cardiologist, I had urged her to retire well over a year ago,” the doctor continued. “Though she is a reasonably young woman of fifty-five, her heart is like that of an old woman. I’d prescribed medication that she refused to take, relying instead on island voodoo. I fear island voodoo will do her no good now.”

Even her doctor had urged Bessye to retire and she didn’t listen!

“What are you saying?”

“Your mother’s heart is very weak.”

“And?” Victoria leapt up from the chair, the chair’s legs wobbling on the tile. “What about surgery?”

He shook his head. “Surgery is out of the question. Your mother is suffering from acute heart failure. There’s nothing to be done.”

Victoria slumped back into the chair, the wind knocked out of her. “Nothing? Are you telling me that my mother is dying? That there is no hope?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Montcherry. If there were hope, your mother would be on the first plane to Singapore for the best medical care in the world. Trust me, there is nothing anyone can do but pray.”

There it was again, that word
trust!
That damn dirty word trust! Victoria felt the bile rise in her throat. She cupped her hand over her mouth to suppress the urge to gag.

“We can try, can’t we? I can hire a private plane to fly her to Singapore. I can afford the best medical care in the world. Money isn’t an issue,” Victoria insisted.

The doctor shook his head. “All of the money in the world cannot save your mother. Money cannot buy health.”

“I want a second opinion.”

“I’ve consulted with cardiologists in Singapore and even in the U.S. Nothing more can be done.”

Victoria stared at him in a daze. This couldn’t be happening.

“Why don’t you go in and sit with your mother. Hold her hand. Comfort her. Talk to her. Spend time with her. She needs you now. You need her.” The doctor stood.

Victoria just sat in stunned silence. This was another nightmare
.

The doctor put out his hand and Victoria took it. He led her to her mother, enclosed behind a curtain. She sat in a wood bedside chair after the doctor left.

“Vic-toria,” her mother said, her voice barely above a whisper, the plastic oxygen canula beneath her nose. A heart monitor beeped at every precious heartbeat.

Victoria drew a breath for composure. The medicinal smell of the place offered no relief. She grasped her mother’s hand in hers. The hand that had always been so strong was almost too weak to squeeze.

Dark brown eyes met hers, the same shade and almond shape with the same dark lashes. There was a sense of peace in her mother’s gaze. Victoria had been expecting defeat and disappointment.

“Oh, Mamma,” Victoria said, holding back tears that wanted to flow.

Victoria didn’t know what to do or what to say. If she had never left the Islands, her son, her mother. If only she had returned home to the Islands earlier. If she had insisted more that her mother retire and physically prevented her mother from working. If she and her mother didn’t disagree so much. If … Would her mother have a more positive prognosis? A longer life?

“Child, it’s time for me to go. God’s calling me and I can’t disappoint him now, can I?” Bessye said between ragged breaths.

“It’s too early to be talking like that.”

Bessye shook her head, barely moving. “You’re a brave girl. Always been. Don’t always have to be so brave. You have to learn to trust yourself and to trust others. Remember, trust has to be earned, child.”

Trust!
Victoria had to look away, clear her throat and her thoughts.

“Make peace with the Islands, with your past, with Justin and with Mr. Wells. I can tell that he loves you. You were meant for each other. Don’t run away and hide, child. Go out and embrace life. Life’s too short for regrets.” Bessye gently squeezed Victoria’s hand and their eyes met.

“Do you have regrets, Mamma?”

“We all have regrets, child. Mine have been too few to worry about.”

Her misty eyes told another story and Victoria wondered what her mother was thinking.

She swiped back her own tears.

“I regret not having enough time with you,” Victoria whispered.