four
It didn’t take Jack long to find out where she’d gone after her abrupt departure leaving him with some excess money and a nosey German named Dieter. He smoothed the bills and left them in a neat, folded pile underneath the edge of one fruit laden punch glass and walked out not long behind her. Had he been too forward? He dismissed the idea quickly and instead walked to a line of taxis that waited on the curb near the wharf.
It only took him about 15 minutes to find the cab that had removed her so expeditiously, and about $20 U.S. to get him to take him there. Jack found the unassuming hotel surprising and not in line with his assumptions regarding her character to that point. Still, it was of no importance that she’d chosen an inexpensive shack in which to hide – she’d likely come to the conclusion, as he had, that privacy was better served by hiding within touristy hell holes.
Still, he confirmed that there was a ‘Ta…Tamara’ checked in before he spent the next few hours watching the room that the desk clerk had so helpfully pointed out. There was movement, but for a long time, he saw nothing of the woman whose features he’d already cemented as belonging to Elizabeth Crawford. There was no escaping him now, he’d know her anywhere.
He was a fair distance away, watching the moonlight reflect on the water when he finally caught a glimpse of her as she stepped out onto the balcony that extended from her room. He studied her for several minutes before turning and walking up the wooden ramp that blocked him from view, and provided access to a taxi. He’d see her tomorrow, but right now, he had to sketch out a plan to find out how, exactly he was going to manage that.
The next morning, Jack slid a freshly purchased pair of sunglasses onto his head and headed to a restaurant that rested conveniently near the hotel where Elizabeth Crawford had taken up residence. Breakfast was already being served to a small handful of people who, like him, couldn’t enjoy the pleasures of sleeping in late. He walked past the deck, filled with bright umbrellas and empty tables and out onto the beach, pausing to remove his shoes before stepping onto the sand.
He glanced at his watch and figured he’d have a few hours before he needed to worry about putting on his ‘face’ and opted for a jog. The beach stretched on for ages, bisected by fences that went nearly up to the waterline as the hotels and restaurants fought greedily for their square footage of white sand.
Jack didn’t bother with a locker and instead placed his shoes on a piece of dead coral that was serving as the base to a light pole. He pulled off his shirt, folded it, and placed his sunglasses on top. There were worst places to be assigned he supposed and took off on a jog as he waited for Tamara to break her seclusion.
Liz’s eyes opened at the crack of dawn even after weeks of mental reassurance that it wasn’t necessary. She let out a frustrated groan and pulled the feather pillow over her face, her arms squeezing it tight to block out the rays of sunshine that spilled through the bamboo blinds. She missed curtains.
She lay there for fruitless minutes and finally sighed and threw the pillow off to one side of the bed, rising up on her elbows and letting her eyes adjust to the light. As she stumbled to the bathroom, deftly avoiding the clothing she’d discarded in a messy pile, she thought about how dull a vacation became when it was perpetual. It didn’t help that she had run away from the first real human contact she’d allowed herself since her arrival.
Stupid, stupid, she told herself, as she brushed her teeth; it repeated it in her head as she pulled on her bikini, still pausing for a deep breath as she tried to calm her nerves. There had been no rational reason on earth why she’d panicked and fled from him. He probably thought she was some freak – mentally ill. Part of her wanted to find him again and correct his impression but, at the same time, she reminded herself that it wasn’t necessary – that he didn’t matter. He was just a tourist, for God’s sake!
She eyed herself critically in the mirror, but still pulled on a pretty, if too bright sarong, and slid her feet into sandals. That morning she’d go out, if for no other reason than to hold back the tide of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. What had made her behave like such an idiot? Guilt? She didn’t want to try and wrap her mind around that so early and she pushed the thought away as she walked out of the hotel and onto the beach. Her fingers clutched a book that she’d already read cover to cover; hopefully it would serve as a deterrent to anyone who wanted to strike up conversation.
The beach chairs were rented, but the stand was empty early in the morning. The tourists had yet to crawl out of their rum punch induced hangovers. A face popped into her mind at that thought, but she shook it off and settled into a chair, looking out onto a beach with the bluest water she’d ever seen.
The soft breeze lulled and caressed her, stirring the soft black hair around her face. She suddenly didn’t feel like hiding inside the book, but didn’t move. Laying back, lids sliding closed, she gave a long, deep sigh.
“Am I interrupting, Tamara?”
Her eyes snapped open. She felt the bottom of her throat squeeze shut, and had to lower her gaze until she found her voice, a few seconds later. “Hello, Jack.”
He took the beach chair next to her. His body, she noticed, was covered with a soft sheen of perspiration, his chest rising and falling more rapidly than normal.
“You like to run?” The question came out before she thought to edit it.
To her relief, he smiled and nodded. “It relaxes me.” He tilted his head to one side. “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry if I came on a little stro…”
“No!” she said instinctively, reaching out to touch his knee, trying to make sure he understood that the fault had been hers. But immediately, she withdrew it, worried that he’d think she was some sort of lunatic.
“It was my fault, really! You must have thought I was really strange! I wasn’t feeling well. My…my stomach was upset.” Liz gnawed on her lower lip nervously, and then grinned. “I’m extremely sorry. I was looking forward to the punch.”
Brown eyes flecked with just a touch of gold stared back at her for a long minute as if he was processing her answer, deciding the next course to take. He spoke then, silencing the butterflies in her stomach that she had only just realized were there.
“You are feeling better this morning?”
She nodded, motioning to her book. “Yes. Much better.” She looked down at it in a silent dismissal. “I’m fine now.”
“Good, you can have breakfast with me.”
The absolute assurance of the proposal surprised her, as did her inability to refuse.