Posts tagged “novels”

Strangers of the Past: Part XXVI

Posted on 20/02/2013

fishingOld Man Jonas scowled up at Ameya as she jutted her hands against her hips. “You are in my light. Move.”

Ameya narrowed her eyes at him. “You will tell me why my son is here before I move a muscle. “

He sighed, shaking his head. “I already told you what I think about your foolish way with the boy.” He lowered his head to study the mangled net, scowling deeper. “Move.”

“Foolish way? How is protecting my son foolish?” Her body shivered as she glanced over him at the clear sky above the blue ocean before jerking her glare back to his downturned face. “What if something went terribly wrong? Will you answer me then?”

He huffed out a frustrated breath and shoved the net off his lap before throwing her a glare of his own. “You think I should hide him in my shack everyday because you are afraid he will drown?” He chuckled darkly, looking over at the boy who was busy fiddling with the net in his small hands. “Why live in an island if you’re afraid of the boy touching water. Your fear for him is unreasonable and foolish.”

Ameya clenched her fists beside her, her body trembling at the easy, calm way he said the words. She glanced worriedly at her son, letting Jonas’ stern words settle on her heart. “It’s not like I had a choice where we live…” she muttered, allowing her eyes to lift from Tomas’ head and suddenly, her cheeks warmed as she spotted three men standing a few feet from the canopy. Ameya swallowed hard.

Old Man Jonas frowned at her before lifting his head to peer over her shoulder at the three men standing there, watching them. He raised a bushy gray brow at the sight of the men with Gill before scowling. “I told you I don’t have time for your silly touring. You have disturbed me enough today. Take the boy and your people, and leave.”

Ameya didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. Her throat constricted tightly as she noticed the two American men now staring over at her. In the back of her mind, Ameya wondered how much of her conversation with Old Man Jonas they’d heard. Attempting to calm herself, she stepped away from Jonas and reached down to lift her son from the floor. He whimpered in protest when she tugged the tangled net from his fingers and perched her son on her waist. “This discussion is not over,” she said in a low voice over at Old Man Jonas before stepping out of the fisherman’s hut toward the gentlemen.

Jonathan couldn’t breathe. His heart was palpitating like a racehorse as Ameya and her son approached him. His son. He couldn’t look away. The boy’s sandy hair was curly and probably as soft as it looked. He drank in the boy’s freckled, sun-kissed face, his pouty mouth and pert nose. His eyes even. Jonathan swallowed hard as the boy shyly lifted his gaze from his mother’s shoulder and peered up at him. His cheeks warmed as the boy’s gaze shifted over his face.

Marcus shook his head inwardly in awe. Despite the boy’s coloring, this was Jonathan at age six. He’d seen the pictures and it was clear the sharp resemblance between the stunned man beside him and the shy, mute boy in Ameya’s arms. He smiled through his astonishment. “Beautiful boy.”

Ameya smiled distractedly, still smarting over Old Man Jonas’ scolding. “Thank you.” She shifted Tomas’s weight on her hip and her gaze shifted to Gill. “I was hoping to go with you but I have to get Tomas home. Please forgive me…” she grimaced slightly when Tomas wiggled in her arms. “Sit still,” she said softly to the boy and he dutifully sighed, leaning his head on his mother’s shoulder, although his gaze remained on Jonathan.

Gill nodded assuredly. “Not a problem…” He chuckled, peering over Ameya’s shoulder at Old Man Jonas who had finally stood up and was storming over to meet them.

Old Man Jonas barely gave Gill an acknowledging glance and turned to Ameya, still frowning. “If you don’t want to listen to me, don’t bring him here anymore.”

Marcus frowned, unable to decipher what Old Man Jonas said in their native tongue to Ameya but Jonathan heard every word and his brow furrowed with concern, reluctantly shifting his gaze to the older man standing by Ameya’s other shoulder.

Ameya merely rolled her eyes and sighed, still facing Gill. “Take care of my friends. I will try to be back when I get Tomas settled.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Marcus said with a relieved smile when Ameya continued speaking to Gill in English for their courtesy. “Jon and I can take a cab back to the hotel.”

She hesitated a moment but when Tomas shifted again in her arms, she nodded slowly. “Okay… If that won’t be a bother.”

“Not at all,” Marcus continued, his smile widening as his gaze shifted to a drowsy Tomas before returning to Ameya’s face. “Go home and take care of your son. Jon and I are in good hands, I’m sure.”

Gill chuckled and nodded. “Of course.”

Old Man Jonas frowned at the conversation going on without Ameya acknowledging him and turned his head, narrowing his dark glare suspiciously at the two strangers in front of him. His gaze zeroed in on the quieter white man beside the loquacious dark man and Gill, his lips pursed at the intent way the man stared at Tomas in Ameya’s arms. But before he could open his mouth to say a word, Ameya stepped away from the gentlemen and started up the hill toward the road between the houses. His dark scowl returned as he watched her go, then with a low grunt, he turned his back on both and trudged to the fisherman’s canopy.

Gill shook his head, still chuckling. “That man…”

Marcus raised a brow after the grumpy fisherman stepped away. “Who is he?”

“Ameya’s foster father… ” Gill responded, shifting his brown eyes to the men before him. “He was the one who saved her from drowning almost nine years ago.” He shook his head, glancing again at the older man’s bent back as he took his seat amid his sea of fisherman net. “The old goat is probably regretting that decision every day since then,” he muttered, missing the glance shared between Jonathan and Marcus.

—

Getting Tomas to sit down for a bath an hour later was proving to be a futile effort as he kept wriggling in the bath tub. “Sit still, Tomas,” she said wearily, rubbing off another layer of sand from his hair. “Honestly… what was this man doing while you were rolling on the ground?” she muttered, dusting the sand off his bare shoulders.

He lifted his morose gray eyes to her and Ameya sighed gently. “You probably agree with him, don’t you… That I’m being foolish in wanting to keep you safe?” When Tomas just blinked at her, Ameya blinked back the stinging of tears and managed a smile. “It’s okay. Mama’s just a little…” she paused, frowning at the only word that described how she was feeling. Scared. Her heart skipped a beat as she allowed herself to admit it. The thought of an impending storm bringing danger to her son was impossible to shake off and she found herself shivering with trepidation. Ever since Old Man Jonas had mentioned a storm coming, she found that she couldn’t stay sleeping without checking on Tomas through the night.

He whined softly, nudging at her hand and pulling Ameya from her reverie. She managed another smile, pulling the sea sponge over his soft skin. “Don’t mind Mama, unh…” When his gray eyes lifted to her face again, Ameya’s smile waned as an image of her stumbling through a sea of swaying trees suddenly flashed before her eyes. She blinked and forced a breath, her hand stilling over his shoulder.

Tomas frowned at his mother and nudged her hand with his small one. Ameya jerked her gaze to his familiar gaze and her heart slammed against her chest. Shaking her head, she abruptly stood to her feet and pulled him out of the tub. Draping his soft but worn towel about his shoulders, Ameya guided her son out of the bathroom to his room. Her hands quickly worked to dress him, her heart pounding as the image returned of her running into a dark cave, cool salty water pelting her face. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the pajama shirt through Tomas’ yielding arms.

Hannah! She heard a voice ringing loud and clear in her ears as she stood and pulled Tomas onto her hip again, walking out of his bedroom into the living room. “Stay here…” she instructed after placing him on the couch and quickly stepped into the hallway in search for her phone.

A dial tone later and a soft, low voice answered. “Ameya…”

Her heart skipped a beat and she placed a trembling hand to her chest. “Neve, please come. I need to see you now.”

<<Part 25 || Part 27>>

Categories: Strangers of the Past

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Strangers of the Past: Part XXV

Posted on 09/02/2013

luciaBarely missing a beat as Neville’s car disappeared amid the other cars parked on the narrow street. She turned around and blinked at the four men staring at her curiously. Flicking her eyes over to Francis, she placed a hand on her hips. “What brings you here, Chief?”

Francis blinked, dragging his forlorn gaze from the direction of his son’s fleeting car and gave Ameya a half-hearted smile. “Just in the neighborhood…” And before Ameya could prod further, he turned to the other men and mumbled his farewell before strolling past her.

Ameya stepped forward to the other three men, glancing over their shoulders as if looking for someone.

“Hapta had to go back,” Marcus replied, having caught the questioning look in her eyes. “There were things he had to take care of back home.”

Shrugging, Ameya turned to Warren who still studied her carefully. Rolling her eyes, she sighed and looked back at the two men. Judging from the reluctant looks on their faces, she had a feeling something had transpired while she was away. Pushing the inquisitive thoughts to the back of her mind, she gestured over their shoulders. “I’m parked down there. We should go.” With a silent farewell at Warren, she strode past the two men who had no choice but to follow her down the sloping sidewalk to where her tour van was parked.

“The weather’s nice today,” Ameya said as she climbed into her seat, reaching for the seatbelt. “So I’m sure there—“ she halted, gaping as Jonathan instead of Marcus climbed in beside her. Blinking as the quiet man situated himself in the passenger’s seat, her cheeks flamed when his gray eyes swept over her face and she averted her gaze. “Uh…” she said dumbly, having lost her train of thought.

Marcus hid back a smile. “Did you find a fisherman to show us around?” he offered, noticing her fumble when Jonathan took the front seat.

Ameya peered up at the rearview mirror and managed a smile, “Yeah, I found someone…” she said softly, turning on the ignition key. Within minutes, they were trudging down the sloping hill toward the pier. Her fingers grasped the steering wheel and loosened them in a swift motion, forcing her gaze ahead of her, except Jonathan’s gray eyes had seared her subconscious. She couldn’t believe how familiar his gaze felt, so curiously similar to that of her son’s.

“Can we turn on the air, Ameya?” Marcus asked from the back.

“Oh,” Ameya nodded. “Mr. Jonathan, you can adjust the air however you like.”

Jonathan silently reached over the dashboard and Ameya’s gaze curiously drifted over. His strong arm was dusted with freckles and blond hair, his long and slender fingers deftly manipulated the air conditioner dial. A warm, niggling shiver flitted at the pit of her stomach, rising slowly to her chest as she recalled her dream, her lips pressing lightly against the freckled, tanned arm. In the back of her mind, she wondered if Jonathan’s arm was as strong and warmly inviting as it looked.

“Hannah!” Marcus’ voice pushed through her wanton thoughts and Ameya’s gaze jarred back to the front. She inhaled sharply and slammed her foot on the brakes, wincing as the car’s wheels skidded and squealed beneath them. She gripped the wheel and closed her eyes tightly until the car jerked to a stop.

Heart racing, Ameya squinted one eye open and watched with her breath held as a young tourist couple shuffled across the street, peering curiously at the van. Only once they’d stepped onto the sidewalk did she heave a sigh of relief. Until she noticed Jonathan’s arm barring her from slamming into the steering wheel. Her gaze jerked back to his own, swallowing hard at the relief she saw in his intense gray eyes.

Then as quickly as she looked at him, Ameya turned away and eased the car into drive. Squeezing the steering wheel, Ameya laughed. “Sorry about that… Seems I’m still half-asleep.”

“Do you want to postpone it for another day?” Marcus asked, concern in his deep voice.

Ameya wrinkled her nose in protest. “No, I promised I’d show you the pier.” She lifted one hand, pushing back the plaits in her hair before glancing at the rearview mirror at Marcus. Next time he was going to sit in front. “How’s the writing coming, by the way?”

Marcus smiled kindly. “It’s fine… We’re making much progress, thanks to you.”

She smiled back, shy under his undeserved praise. “All I did was show you around.”

“Your company alone was enough,” Marcus replied and Ameya felt her cheeks warm. She laughed and so did he, winking at Jonathan who cut him a wary glare. “So tell me, how does the fishing tour work?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Did we tell you that Jonathan here’s an avid fisherman?”

Ameya smirked, not daring to look at Jonathan. “Yeah, you mentioned it. The fishing tour will be simple enough. Gill, the fisherman I found for you, is one of the best fishermen here and he’s nice enough to show you around.”

“Oh, so the others were too busy or flatly declined?” Marcus chortled.

“You don’t even want to know…” Ameya muttered in half-teasing. In fact, Old Man Jonas had been her first choice but he glared at her, saying he had no time to babysit two others. She shook her head in light mirth, pulling the car onto another sloping street.

Jonathan peered out the window, seeing the cerulean blue sea peeking from the trees. In companionable silence, Ameya pulled the van in front of the sandy, makeshift boardwalk. “Welcome to the fishing village,” she said, grandly sweeping her hand in front of her.

The men silently took in the houses stacked together, with narrow aisles leading to the pier where the colorful boats and their lounging fishermen. Ameya stepped out of the car and the men followed her down the soft sandy path between two red-roof houses. Two dark men casually dressed in sagging shorts and thin shirts with holes in them, lifted their heads and beamed up at her. She smiled back, waving as she continued on her path.

Jonathan noticed how their gazes followed her and tamped down the protective urge to glare them down. He had to remind himself that in St. Lucia, Hannah was still Ameya, a single mother. Shaking his head, he trudged onward to catch up with Ameya’s light gait, not slowing down despite the bouncy sand beneath their feet.

Ameya squinted into the distance and smiled when she noticed a dark-skinned man bent over a green painted boat anchored near the edge of the bank. “Gill!” she cupped her hand around her mouth to call out to him, picking up the pace as he looked up, a weathered face that had spent much time under the sun and rain. With a grin, Ameya reached him. “I’ve brought them,” she announced when he looked at her expectantly. She peered over her shoulder and watched as the two men closed the distance between them. “These are the men I told you about, Mr. Jonathan and Mr. Marcus. From America.”

“Ah yes,” Gill nodded, his face wrinkling further as he smiled to receive them. “Welcome to St. Lucia,” he said, in perfect English.

Jonathan nodded and Marcus smiled back. “Thank you for doing this for my brother here.” He slapped a firm hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, nudging him gently. “He enjoys fishing.”

Gill’s salt-and-pepper brow lifted. “Oh really? Where have you fished?”

“Martinique…” Jonathan said hesitantly, peeking over at Ameya who blank-stared back at him. He pulled his eyes back to the inquisitive yet amiable fisherman. “It’s been a while since I did island fishing though…”

“Ah don’t worry,” Gill waved him off with a low chuckle. “There’s nothing to it.” He then turned to Ameya, both brows raised. “Old Jonas is increasingly cranky today…”

Ameya rolled her eyes, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets. “No surprise there.”

The two men beside them exchanged silent looks but neither prodded.

“Perhaps since he’s been forced to babysit your son, he’s acting tied down and annoyed,” Gill said in amusement and not at all perturbed by Old Jonas’ surly persona.

The men did not miss the shock that flickered on Ameya’s face upon hearing Gill’s casual words. Then she scowled openly, teeth clenched. “Where are they?” When Gill silently pointed to his left, Ameya pushed forward, stomping down the bank to find Old Man Jonas and Tomas.

Jonathan and Marcus exchanged glances and Gill shook his head in mirth. “That girl has her hands full with the two of them…” He turned to the men and smirked. “If you want, we can go see about them first before we start the tour?”

Ameya was annoyed. No, she was more than angry. Livid was a better term to describe how she felt as she stormed up the sandy hill to the canopy where she could already see two lone figures. Her heart skipped a beat when her son lifted his head from the old fisherman’s net that Old Man Jonas had undoubtedly given the young child to keep him busy. She pursed her lips, pausing to smoothen her son’s hair before rounding the wooden table to glare down at Old Man Jonas who frowned in concentration over another one of his torn nets.

“Why is my son down here?” Ameya started in a tight voice, trying to still control her frustration with this man. “Didn’t you hear when I said on no circumstances should he be down here.” When Old Man Jonas didn’t reply, a needle stuck between his teeth, her glare narrowed at him. “If you didn’t want to look after him, you should’ve just told me!” She winced when Tomas flinched at her raised voice. Forcing out a breath, she focused her glare back on Old Man Jonas’ face. “Are you listening to me?”

Jonathan and Marcus could hear Ameya before they could see her, climbing up the inclined path to where the fisherman’s lounge sat, a simple canopy with old rickety chairs and fisherman nets draped on poles posted around the shaded area. Gill clucked his tongue as Ameya openly scolded the old man. “He’s stubborn. I don’t know why she keeps trying to change him…”

Jonathan’s gaze shifted up the path and it naturally fell on a small body sitting cross-legged at the old fisherman’s feet. Like a punch in the gut, he felt the wind get knocked out of him as he stared at the light-skinned boy with his wavy, sandy-haired head bent while his small hands fiddled with a blanket of fishing net. For a moment, Jonathan couldn’t breathe as he stared at the boy Ameya named Tomas, her son.

<<Part 24 || Part 26>>

Categories: Strangers of the Past

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