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Though I had been up for over 24 hours and traveled almost 3000 miles, when I laid my head on the pillow, I knew sleep would elude me.
I tossed and turned...the day's events filled my waking dreams. When the sun finally peeked it's way into my room through the half-closed shutters, I knew that it was useless.
I got up and dragged my tired *** down to the beach and laid in a lawn chair left by some late-night partiers, hoping the sing-song sound of the waves lapping up on the shore would lull me to sleep.
It worked. When I awoke, the beach was buzzing with activity....it was already mid-morning. Wow! I must have been really tired.
After a shower and some coffee, I headed down the beach to visit some friends. The feel of the soft white sand and warmth of the sun shining down pon my face felt relaxing and I temporarily forgot about the events of the day before...and the rasta.
When I returned, sometime later that afternoon, a group of friends were standing out on the beach in front of my yard.When they saw me, one hurried over to say that Jan was looking for me.
When I found her, she asked if I had seen her brother. It seems he was suppose to go to the country last night....people were waiting for him....but he never showed up.
I explained what had happened the night before (kinda, sort of) and that I had not seen him at all that day. But when I went back to my room, there was a note slipped under my door;
'Sorry I missed you. We need to talk. Meet me at **** around 4 o'clock.' It wasn't signed, but I knew who it was from.
I glanced at my watch. That was in an hour! Took a quick shower, changed and wolfed down some food before I headed over to the requested spot.
He was already there...waiting for me. Though my heart was racing, I strolled casually toward him. Deliberately taking my time, as if I had all the time in the world.
When I reached him, he stood up... and without saying a word wrapped his arms around me and kissed me.
This wasn't the same kiss I had received the previous night. It was hard, probing, demanding. I was lucky he has holding me....cuz I might just have fell over.
After what seemed an eternity, he released my lips and blazed a trail along my face over to my ear, where he whispered; 'Lacy, will you come to the country with me?"
There was no way I was going to refuse him. But my mouth wouldn't work properly and all I could do was nod.
He let me go and I felt like I had heat exhaustion. My head was spinning, my legs felt like rubber bands and I had to blink....several times...just to stop the onset of tunnel vision.
He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed each finger tenderly, then said, 'You will need to pickup a few things, as we will not be returning to the beach. Is that ok?'
Huh? Is what ok? I wasn't sure what he just said. The whole time he had been performing this little game with my fingertips, he was staring into my eyes and my head was BUZZING!!!
When I didn't respond, he stopped and clenched my hand in his, a look of concern entered his eyes when he said, 'Is it ok that we don't come back to the beach?'
I almost laughed. He thought I wasn't going to come with him, that I didn't want to leave the beach.
I couldn't think of anything or anyone so important to keep me here... and I told him so. He smiled and chuckled alittle bit and we headed over to the yard to pickup the things I would need.
Jan was the first to see us approach. Her worried look, now replaced by alittle grin at the sight of us together....strolling down the beach....hand in hand.
She scolded him for his long absence, but did not ask where he had been. Just let him know that he was needed elsewhere and that he should get along on his way.
'I'm taking Lacy with me.' Was all he replied and Jan didn't look to surprised at this announcement.
I packed a few thing in my carry-on bag and we were shortly in the car on our way to.....well, at that point I had no idea where we were going....and it didn't much matter.
We traveled on the secondary roads in silence. I could tell he had driven along these roads many times, as he dodged pot holes and such with ease, occasionally beeping the horn and waving at people we passed.
We turned off the paved road onto a small dirt driveway, the entrance hidden by heavy bush. It wound it's way back at least 1 mile, at times I wasn't sure if the car was going to make it....the ruts were so deep, that we were scraping the bottom.
We passed 3 small shacks on the way. One near the entrance and the other 2 about 1/2 way in. At each shack,he stopped and a man came out to greet him. I was introduced as his 'Lady' and their reaction to this statement was startled surprise.
Though the rasta knew I could understand patios he refrained from divulging this fact to these men. So I had to listen to a tierney of words about this announcement, at some point all 3 stating.....'But you are Rasta!'.
Ummmmm.....this was interesting. It seems I may not be the only one who was breaking some rules.
When we reached the end of the drive, there was a 2-story concrete home perched on the top of a hill overlooking a valley carpeted with trees. It was so beautiful, inviting......the sweet scent of wood and water, a sharp contrast to the salty air of the beach.
He walked around the car and opened my door, lifted me out and said; 'Welcome to my home.'
His home? Wow! I had no idea where we were headed when we left the beach, but this is not what I expected. I wondered aloud, what was he doing living in Europe, with a home like this waiting for him?
He chuckled at my question, but did not answer it directly, and instead asked one of his own;
'And would you continue to live in America, if a home like this was waiting for you?''
I was quick enough to know NOT to answer that loaded question! Pretending not to hear, I instead walked over to the side of the house and looked over the valley before me.
He came up behind, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back into his chest.
Ummmmm...... I could stay like this forever I thought and closed my eyes, as he placed little light kisses along the top of my head, rocking me back and forth to the beat of his heart.
After awhile, he stopped, turned me around to him and said; 'Come on, I have a surprise for you.' Then led me down a path under the trees and into the valley....
I heard the trickle of water before we reached the bottom of the path and as we came out of the trees the sun shone brightly off a small river, barely knee deep.
I laughed for joy at the sight of this little paradise tucked away at the bottom of the hill and couldn't resist kicking off my shoes and running right in, wading over to the other side.
He laughed at my delight, but did not join me. With the river between us, I stared back at him. The sun shining down on the patch of grass he was standing on.
All around him were shadows, except for that spot...almost like heaven had cast a glow around just him.
'But this isn't the surprise, come back over here.' he said, so I waded over to his side and we followed the river downstream for a bit.
It gradually got wider and deeper until I saw what he had meant by the surprise.....it was a pool - clear, cool with a rocky bottom wore away by the light current. Almost 20' around, the river filled it to chest high before it continued on it's way down the valley again.
I was itching to jump in.....but that meant taking off all my clothes...and I was alittle embarrassed at this thought. He took my hand and we walked over to a well-worn bench that had been built between 2 trees and sat down.
He then told me the story of how he had found this little river and pool many years before and was determined to make it his.
He spent a good while deciding on the right spot, on top of the hill for his home, in order to catch the morning sun from his 2nd floor bedroom window and contemplate the beauty of the valley below.
He had spent many hours sitting on this bench observing the quiet nature around him. Then he told me, from the first moment he saw me, he knew, that he had to bring me here. Knew I would appreciate it as much as he....and I did.
We sat there, talking, as the setting sun cast a shadow across the pool that gradually drew closer until it covered the entire river and it began to get dark.
He led me back up the path and into the house. It was sparsely furnished...but EXTREMELY clean... like someone had very recently swept and aired it out.
I walked around and looked in all the rooms....touched the things that were display there....and I must admit, looked for clues of a woman's presence. There were none.
This was definitely a man's domain...from the rough furniture in the living room, the lack of decorations in the kitchen (don't women always have things hanging on the kitchen walls?) to the toilet seat in the upright position (hehehe).
Besides the large living room and the kitchen, there was a small study and a bathroom on the first floor. The second floor contained 3 bedrooms...2 small ones and a larger 'master suite'.
It was here that I stopped and looked out of the window onto the valley.....peering intently, trying to get a glimpse of the river below, but the trees covered everything and all I could see was their green foliage blowing in the light breeze.
He let me wander around his house without following me, but after awhile I heard him climb the stairs and then join me at the window.
We stood looking out at the countryside until the sun fell below the other side of the house and we could no longer see any details of the valley.
He asked me if I was hungry. I really wasn't, but I said yes as an excuse to hurry up and leave his bedroom.
I joined him in the kitchen and sat down at a small table flanked by 2 chairs. He put some water on the stove for tea and fished some fruit and bread out of the frig. (How did those things get there?) We didn't bring anything with us, but it seemed the house had been cleaned and stocked in preparation for his arrival. I made no mention of this fact....as I wasn't sure I wanted to know who had done it.
We talked of other things as he made the tea and sliced the bread and fruit. (Nothing I'm going to tell you here.) And when he finally sat down, he moved his chair next to mine, took my hand, looked into my eyes and said; 'So what do you think of my house?'
I didn't know what he wanted me to say. It was a nice house on a beautiful piece of property, but instead I said; 'It's alittle bare, don't you think?' Dumb, dumb, dumb..but he made me nervous.
But he just laughed and said that he hadn't quite got around to furnishing it yet. Was it really that bad?
Well now I felt bad. I didn't mean to diss his home and I stumbled on my words as I tried to correct myself. But he just put his finger to my lips to quiet me and said it was ok, he knew what I meant.
Then he began running his finger sensually over my lips, all the while still staring in my eyes.
I knew he was going to kiss me again....and this time, I couldn't wait. We both leaned in, together, and met in the middle of the space between us.
It was just like the first time....quiet, reserved. He moved his hand behind my head and pulled me closer as the kiss took on a deeper tone.
I felt like climbing right up into his lap to feel his body against mine. And as soon as that thought entered my mind, he released me and drew back, his hand still on the back of my head, to look in my eyes once more.
I am positive he could read that thought there. But he didn't say anything or pursue the advantage I laid before him.
This time, it was him, who sighed and look away, moving his hand from my head to pick up his tea for a sip.
Ahhhhh...now I was confused....had no clue what he was thinking. Kiss me, don't kiss me....what was up with this? I had already resigned myself to the fact that I was GOING to break ALL of my rules, and now he seemed to have taken up those rules pon himself.
He started talked again and the moment passed. We ate and drank (I guess I was hungry after all) and when we had finished, he picked up the mess and rinsed out the cups. I wandered into the living room and sat down on the couch.
I heard him behind me, doing something and then I heard music. A soft reggae song played from a cassette as he sat down next me and pulled me over to his side, so we were touching.
After a few moments, he began the tale of how and why he went farrin and the circumstances surrounding his life abroad. We sat there together for the longest time, talking, listening to the music, talking some more (Boy, we do alot of talking don't we ...hehehe).
It must have been very late, cuz I found myself suddenly yawning up a storm. I quickly covered my mouth, hoping he wouldn't think he was boring me. But he could see that my eye lids were getting heavy and it was time to turn in.
He said something about plans together tomorrow and I woke right up...thinking, what about tonite? Here I was alone with him, in his house, no one for miles....he wanted me, I wanted him...but he had never mentioned anything about it or gave me a clue about what was going to happen next.
Was he waiting for me? I sat up and looked over at him. He stop talking and a soft, loving look entered his eyes.
I'm gonna kiss him, I said to myself and I reached over and did just that. He pulled me closer and moved his arms around me. This time I did climb into his lap.
His strong arms gently held me, muscles flexing, as if I might break, if he held on too tight. I leaned up against his chest and felt his heart beating wildly. Ummmm...this is a good sign, perhaps I will be breaking those rules tonite after all....hehehe
We stayed like that, exploring each other, and a short time later, I felt his 'rude boy' pushing up against me. He adjusted my body against him, his lips never leaving mine, until I was no longer sitting directly pon 'him'.
His kisses got lighter and more playful. He moved his lips from mine and buried his head in my neck to taste the sweetest there. I could feel my heart pounding under his slow and lazy assault.
I arched my back....and almost slid off him and onto the floor. Opps...we both giggled and the intenseness of the moment passed. He moved his hands up to either side of my face and pulled my head down to look in his eyes ....they were as big as saucers....staring at me.
What do you want from me? I thought and then found myself repeating it out loud to him. 'Nothing, Lacy', he said, 'nothing, you don't want to give me. I'm just happy being here with you, talking with you, looking at you, holding you.' Well that almost made me cry. I didn't know what to say.
He then gently lifted me off his lap and set me down next to him. I couldn't look at him. We sat there for a few moments in silence, then he got up and turned off the music and the lights.
He came up behind me on the couch, placed his hand on my shoulder and said; 'It's time we go to sleep.' Was this finally his clue? I automatically got up and followed him to the stairs, thankful the partial darkness hid the fact that I could hardly walk for my trembling body.
He led me up the stairs and into 1 of the smaller bedrooms. My carry-on bag was lying on the bed. What? What was this? I turned around to ask him just that, and he must have anticipated my confusion because he placed his finger on my lips and sh-sh-sh-ed me before I could speak.
It was too dark to see into his eyes so I had no idea what he was thinking as he looked at me and tenderly brushed my hair away from my face.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut off the words with his lips. Then pulled me close and whispered into my ear; 'Not tonite, Lacy, soon...'
You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Here I was all ready and he was the one saying, not now. Well, so much for my plans....he obviously had some of his own that he was not going to tell me about tonite.
He held me for a moment longer, gently, tenderly kissed me again and then left the room, closing the door.
Great! What was I gonna do now? I almost marched myself right over there to jump in his bed....but decided against it. Ok, soon come....whatever!
I tossed my bag on the floor and crawled into the bed, still in my clothes. I was kinda mad and I laid there stewing for awhile.
But before I knew it, I was asleep ....dreaming dreams of the little river and pool I had visited...and his hot body up against mine....
When I awoke the next morning, for a moment I had no idea where I was.
The sun was streaming in the closed window making the room unbearably hot. I had fell asleep in my clothes and they had wound themselves around my body and were now glued to my skin.
I got out of bed and peeled them off my body. Then dug around in my bag, donned the light cover-up I usually wore on the beach and dragged a comb through my hair. I wish I had a mirror.
I walked over to the window to looked down upon the valley. The view from the master suite was framed perfectly between a natural 'V' formed by the trees.
In this bedroom, it was slightly off center, but still breathtaking. I could see a glimpse of the path that we had taken down to the river...the urge to run right down and jump in the pool was overwhelming.
And immediately upon that thought, came another.....uummmm, I wonder if I could sneak down the stairs and do just that? It is not that I wanted to avoid the rasta, I just needed some time alone with my thoughts....and this room was TOO HOT!
I opened the door and peeked into the hallway. The door to his room was open. The bed was made, everything in it's place. Nothing looked differently from the previous day, as if he had not even been there.
Not a noise came from the house....this was my chance. I grabbed my towel and headed down the stairs, trying to tiptoe so as not to make my presence known.
When I reached the bottom, I cautiously looked around the corner into the living room. No one. Not stopping once, I sped out the door, around the corner of the house and down the path.
I slowed when I reached the safety of the trees. I was pretty proud of myself, being able to give him the slip.....but it seemed too easy. Where was he? Not in the house....not in the yard. Did he leave me here, alone? Time enough to figure that out later. A swim, I thought.....I needed a swim.
In no time, I reached the river and made my way along the shore to the pool. It was quiet, deserted...the current making little ripples along it's surface.
I slipped out of my cover-up and laid it and my towel on the bench and slowly walked into the water. Yikes!!! It was cold. So cold, I started to shiver, clutching my arms to my chest.
Ok..just jump in, I told myself and I walked out determinately until the water was just under my knees....then dove in.
I gasped at the feel of the water on my hot skin. Wow! It was really cold! I wrapped my arms around by body and crunched down until the water came to just underneath my chin.
I stayed there like that for awhile...until my teeth stopped chattering. When the coolness began to feel refreshing, I floated on my back, staring up into the sunlight, lazily paddling the entire length of the pool. Aaahhhh...this was much better.
I swam around abit, dove in a few more times and explored the rocky bottom, looking for any special stones I might pickup as a keepsake of this place. Then swam down to where the pool emptied into the river again, to continue it's path down the valley.
I could not, would not, think of the rasta. What was going to happen, would happen, and I could do nothing about it....so instead I just let myself go with the flow of the current.
After awhile, I felt my hands start to wrinkle and sighed at the thought of ending this peaceful interlude. But I knew he had things planned for that day, so I headed back to the shore reluctantly.
Before I even reached the middle of the pool, I heard a noise...the rustle of leaves under foot...and stopped. Was someone coming? Was it him?
I swam back to the other side of the pool, a little nervous at being discovered, here ...with my clothes...over there! From around the corner, the rasta purposely strode, a towel flung over his shoulder.
He walked over to the bench, set it down and with his back to me, began taking off his clothes, laying them in a neat pile next to mine.
I did not move as he turned around, walked into the water, up to his knees and dove in. He did not surface right away and I wondered where he went. Then I saw him swimming toward me, under the water, to pop up only a foot in front me..shaking his head, the water falling from his dreads.
'Good Morning, Lacy', his voice was low, teasing. I said good morning and then informed him that I was done with my swim and was on my way out.
'So soon?' he laughed. I showed him my wrinkled fingers and explained that my toes where in the same sorry state and I was getting cold. With that, I started to walk over to the shore, but he grabbed my arm as I passed him.
'Don't leave yet', this time I could hear a slight pleading in his voice and I smiled.
I turned back to him, he released my arm and turned my head up to his. He looked into my eyes and then leaned down and lightly kissed me.
Though we were only inches apart, both naked, only our lips touched as his mouth roamed over mine. Then with a rush of water, he lifted his arms up to hold me and I leaned into his chest......
Well.. let's just say, Lacy broke Rule #1 right there in the pool ....and again, a little later on the shore.
By the time we returned to the house...it was mid-afternoon. On the way back, I noticed that he had fruit with him and asked where he had gotten it from. He said he was out picking it when he heard me jump into the pool.
'What? You mean you watched me...the whole time?' I demanded. He smiled, kind of sheepishly...he had been caught....and didn't know what to say.
He stammered out a rather weak apology (he wasn't sorry one bit!) but said he couldn't help himself. I looked so beautiful and graceful playing in the pool, he didn't have the heart to disturb me.
I let it pass. I was too 'satisfied' with the events of the morning to be mad at him. I suppose I should be glad it was just him.....and not a show for his whole crew as well. I would just have to be more careful in the future.
We finished off the rest of the bread and the fruit he had picked, then jumped into the car, for what he called 'The Great Link-up'. We drove all around the countryside meeting up with his friends and family. As before, he did not mention to anyone that I understood their patios conversations and I never really joined in....just listened.
I learned alot...about him, what he did here, who these people were and how everything was connected.
I became more intrigued with him and his place in this part of the country, at each stop. He did not hide anything from me.....and we talked about what was said, while driving from yard to yard. Everyone held him in great respect....and me in turn, as his 'Lady'.
Several more times I heard the phase, 'But you are Rasta.' from people we met ....but all in all, most where especially glad to see him happy, albeit even with me.
As he later said, when I questioned him about this, 'The alternative to happy is pissed off at them....something they were not to eager have happen.'
I got the feeling he ruled with an iron-fist.....but I did not see any of this in him. Perhaps I was good for him after all. My calm, tranquil presence had a soothing affect on him. I would say he was mellow, reflective.....but it seems that is not how it had always been.
We traveled the countryside well into the night, the last stop was at his family's home. It had been 6 months since I had been there last. The house, though not quite finished, was occupied by his parents.
They were all very happy to see me again....though each raised their eyebrows when they found that Jan was not with us....it was just the rasta and me.
I later tried to talk to another of his sisters, to find out her feelings about the fact I was with him.....but before we could really talk, he wandered over to us, bent down and kissed me, before placing an arm around my waist, as if to say to her, this was for real.
The talk focused on the final building plans, which were set for the next day. A dozen or so people had been lined up to complete the upper decking.
It seemed strange to hear him talk about it, as if he had been involved from the beginning, as I too had been involved with this project for many years and here was something we had in common, though we did not even know it.
It was after mid-night before we left. The cool mountain air had turned to fog, covering the road, but not slowing our progress. When we finally pulled into the driveway, I was glad to be back safe. What a raggamuffin ride! I was wide wake for the whole trip, expecting something to jump out into our path...if it had, we would have certain hit it.
I washed up, then sat down on the couch. He put water on the stove for tea and when it was done, joined me there.
We talked about the events of the day, the people and the conversations that I taken place and he explained to me more of what was happening here.
I found myself leaning over to put my head on his shoulder as he talked, his sing-song accent was like music, gently lulling me to sleep. And sleep I did.
I awoke slightly when he lifted me off the couch, but I gave him no hint that I knew what he was doing. Just wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head against his shoulder.
He carried me up the stairs and into the same small bedroom, laying me gently on the bed. I rolled over, as if still fast asleep, but could feel him standing there looking down on me.
After awhile, I heard him leave and close the door. I struggled out of my clothes and opened the window slightly, not wanting to awake to the same stiffling hot that I had that morning.
When I laid back down, in moments, I was fast asleep. No thinking, no dreaming...just tired bliss.
L-a-c-y....wake up...we have to go....L-A-C-Y...come on honey..wake up
I heard a voice, as if in a dream. I felt myself shoo way the hand that was rocking me. No! Let me sleep. But that hand was persistent, so I turned over and opened my eyes. The rasta was standing over me. 'Come on love, we have some house building to do today. Get up, we are already late.''
I sat up and the sheet fell away from my body. What? What's wrong? It took me a moment to clear my vision and then I quickly realized I was exposing myself and pulled the sheet back up around me. What time was it? Very early....7am. Oh man, no way! I laid back down and closed my eyes.
But he was in no mood for my dalliance. 'Come on Lacy. If we don't get over there soon..we are not going to finish today.' as he said this, he was fishing through my bag and tossed some shorts and a t-shirt on the bed. 'I'll make you some tea while you get dressed.' and with that he walked out the door and down the stairs.
Alright..come on, get up, I said to myself. I slipped out of bed, thankful I had opened the window last night, as the room was not nearly as hot as the day before. I put on the clothes he had laid on the bed, combed my hair and then joined him in the kitchen.
I gulped down the tea he had made for me....wishing it was some good strong coffee. And though I was still half asleep, he ushered me into the car and we were on our way in no time. I dozed on the way over to his parent's home, paying no attention to the activities taking place in the small towns we passed.
We were the last to arrive. Now I understood his urgency. Although all the workers had been there for at least an hour, nothing was being done. Everyone stood around chatting, like it was a Saturday afternoon bashment, instead of a work day.
The car had barely stopped, before the rasta jumped out and started barking orders to the workmen who were just standing there. I had to laugh at the speed with which they all scattered. Some over to the sand pile, others grabbed shovels to bring gravel to the mixing area...no one was chatting now!! hehehe
I climbed out of the car and walked down the driveway to the little roadside store his parents owned, hoping to find something to eat....I was famished.
The store was a rough wooden shack, no more than 12'w x 8'd. Under the covered verandah, on either side of the doorway, two benches had been built and a table made of the same materials, was standing in front of one of the benches.
Inside, a wide counter about chest high ran the width of the building. A board had been cut out, afterwards, fitted with hinges and used to access the space behind the counter. There were no stools or chairs on this side of the counter, as there was barely enough room to fit 3-4 people.
As I entered, his mother got up off the stool next to the chest refrigerator behind the counter, flipped up the hinged access board and gave me a big welcoming hug. I complained of an empty belly and she laughed, at both my patios phrasing and the all too familiar question posed to her over the years, by her 7 children.
Then she told me she had just the thing to satisfy me, hurried back around the counter and produced a whole banana bread, wrapped in tin foil. I absolutely loved her banana bread and when Jan told her I would be visiting, she had made this, especially for me.
I took the bread and a boxed orange juice out onto the verandah and sat down. She joined me there, on the other bench and we talked a bit. Well... she mostly talked, I answered briefly, in between nyaming down 1/2 the entire loaf of bread.
After I had stilled the rumbling in my belly, I leaned back on the bench and we had a real talk. I asked her about the rest of the family (two new babies, since I had left) and how it was now, living in a home with running water and a real bathroom and kitchen (though still only cold water).
She laughed again and said it really didn't matter to her. It was her children and their father that insisted on the new home. She had been content with what they already had. Though the kitchen was nice and it was easier to keep clean when the rain wasn't constantly coming in, between the spaces in the roof and the walls, as it had, in their old home.
I smiled at these comments and could imagine myself saying the same things in her place. I really loved this woman and her easy ways and knew she felt the same about me. We chatted for alittle longer and though I knew she wanted to ask me, she purposely steered the conversation away from anything to do with her son, the rasta.
As did all of his family that day. Though I saw them watching us, whenever he came over to me and planted a kiss on my lips or casually placed his arms around me. I was dying to know what they thought of us, but he never left my side long enough, to ask any of them.
I left the store and wandered back up the driveway, grabbed a chair from the kitchen and settled in for what was to be a very long day indeed.
The progress was slow going. Only 2-3 of the workmen actually worked at a steady pace. Chase was constantly yelling at the rest and several times that day he grabbed a shovel and began furiously mixing concrete, as if to show them how it was suppose to be done.
He had not planned on doing any work, just supervising (he was paying these men well) and I cringed as the concrete spilled over his good shoes and splattered up on his jeans. He had removed his shirt and the muscles in his back, flexed in a rhythmic motion that I could not tear my eyes away from. I shifted in my chair at the thought of those muscles flexing in a different motion....with me.
I also thought of the other times I had been here for the building of this house. Those times had been with friends and the difference was extremely apparent. The work had been done in a much more systematic and organized fashion and I wondered where they had recruited this sorry, lazy lot.
No break was given (though they took enough on their own) until mid-afternoon, when lunch was served...fish, vegetables and bread. There was grumblings about where the rum was, as all they had received to drink was water, but I had to agree with this strategy. Nothing would have gotten done, at all that afternoon, with one hand on the shovel or bucket and the other on a cup of rum.
It was almost dark before the last buckets were poured and the decking was completed. The workmen took turns washing off at the pipe and then filed past the rasta, who handed out JA$500 to each of them, before they went to their own homes for the night.
When all of the workers had left, the rasta walked over to me. I grinned at his appearance. Concrete covered his shoes entirely and jeans, to the knees. His arms were two-tone, the chalky substance on his hands up past his elbows, as well as stuck on his bare chest and back and dangling in pieces from his dreads.
He leaned down to kiss me and I stopped his progress by placing my fingertips on his chest and scooted up out of the chair, taking a few steps back. Laughingly, I told him he not only smelled terrible and was a complete mess, but I did not want to get any of it on me and directed him over to the pipe to clean up.
The normal evening activities were just beginning (customers at the store, dinner to be readied) and the rasta wanted to get home to change, so we did not linger too much longer. I thanked his mother again for the banana bread, the remaining portion was tucked underneath my arm as we said our good-byes, got in the car and backed out the driveway.
As we drove, I told him of the house building I had participated in. I teased him about the fact that this house would never have gotten built with the sorry state of his workforce, in comparison to those Jan and I had recruited. He did not think it was so assuming and I laughed even harder at the scowl that appeared on his face, when I told him that those we had recruited worked for FREE.
When we returned home, he went immediately to the bathroom to take a shower. I put water on for tea and when it was done, made myself a cup and attacked what was left of the banana bread and some of the fruit in the frig.
Just as I had finished, he walked into the kitchen, with only a towel around his waist. He looked much cleaner, but I could tell he was still fuming about the day's events. I said I needed a shower as well and left him there, to his sulking.
The shower felt so good...and for the first time in 2 days, I was able to wash my hair. I stood under the water until it got cold, then dried off and put on one of the light summer dresses I had packed.
He was sitting on the couch in a pair of shorts, reggae music was playing low, an empty plate (that had held something) was on the end table. I was glad he had eaten, replenished his energy, cuz I hoped he was gonna need for later. (hehehe)
I sat down beside him and the sweet scent of jasmine floated over to me. I couldn't resist the urge to lean in and bury my face in his hair, the source of that wonderful smell. He laughed when he heard me inhale his scent deeply, then shook his head, running his fingers thru his dreads, pushing them off his face.
I leaned my head on his shoulder and he placed his hand on the inside of my thigh, running his fingers up and down, from my knee to just barely underneath my dress...going no farther...and making the hair on my arms stand up and my nipples push up against my dress.
He continued in this teasing way a little longer, before he leaned over and captured my mouth with his. The kiss was so sweet and so tender, that when he stopped his thigh-roaming, to put his arms around me, I sighed in anticipation of the night ahead.
When the kiss finally ended, I climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs, to face him. Then put both my hands on his face, turned it up to mine and looked into his eyes.
He smiled and asked if I was ready to go to bed....I grinned back and nodded....and in one quick move, he scooped me up in his arms and headed up the stairs. We were both laughing before we even reached his room.......
The next 2 days were very much like the first. We traveled around the countryside, stopping occasionally to visit, then back on the road again.
The next 2 nights were very much like the night of the house building. I no longer slept in the small spare bedroom, but had moved my things over into the master suite. Each night, falling asleep in the rasta's arms.
The night before I was to go home, we stopped at the beach to collect the rest of my bags. Knowing I would not be returning, I made the rounds and said good-bye to all my friends. They were disappointed that I had not been able to spend time visiting with them..but, next time, I promised...not sure when that time would be.
I awoke early on Thursday morning, the sun was just starting to spread it's rays across the floor through the window in the master bedroom. I could feel the rasta's light breath on the back of my neck, we were laying together on our sides, bodies touching all the way down to our feet.
His arm was cradled over my waist, his hand casually cupping my breast. I sunk down closer to him, not wanting to get up, not wanting to move...but knew that this was not possible. I had to be on the road to the airport by 9am.
I rolled over to face him....he did not stir. I brushed the dreads away from his face and ran my fingers down along his cheek and over to his mouth, brushing his lower lip with my fingertip. He looked so peaceful and I sighed at the fact that this was to be the last time I would wake up in his arms.
I continued my light fondling of my face until his lips turned up into a smile, before he opened his eyes to look at me. Neither of us said anything, just looked at each other for a moment longer and then he kissed me...and I kissed him back. Not wanting to miss one second together, we came together with an urgency and a longing different from the past nights. When it was over, the sun was blazing into the room, announcing the new day.
We had lingered too long in bed and I was fortunate that all my bags had been packed and were waiting by the door. No time for breakfast or tea....just straight from bed to the car.
Over the past few days, when we talked about what would happen, when I returned home to the States. We never really got past the; 'I'm gonna kidnap you and keep you here forever' part. He may have said this teasingly, but I know that is what he wanted. I also knew that this was impossible.
I had responsibilities. Foremost my son, who would be entering high-school this fall. My job...they couldn't do without me, even this short trip was going to mean over-time for a week. My house...and all that was required of a home owner.
When I asked him about his returning to Europe, he said that he would wait for me in Jamaica forever. That nothing in Europe held him there. He much preferred his home in the yard, on the hill, overlooking the valley. I had to agree. I would not have minded waking up every morning to the beauty framed in the window of his bedroom.
But...circumstances....things...were in our way and prevented me from even thinking in that direction. All I could do was look at his handsome profile, as we drove through the countryside, on our way to Mo Bay.
We said very little during the entire drive. When I asked him to please talk to me, all he could say was... that when he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes watered. I almost cried myself, at this confession, and decided maybe it was best.
I was the last to check in at the airport. We walked together to the security entrance and knew that this was to be where we parted.
He turned me to him and wrapped his arms around me.... held on for the longest time. I could tell he was having a hard time containing his emotions, as his body heaved with several sighs, before I moved away and looked up into his face.
His mouth was turned down in a frown, eyes rimmed with tears, on the verge of falling. 'Please don't go Lacy.', his voice was low, pleading...and then the tears did fall. I found myself beginning to cry as well. But did not want to spend our last moments together...standing here bawling all over each other.
So, I smiled through my tears and wiped his away from his face. Then with a short laugh, reminded him that 'He was Rasta', what would his crew think, if they could see him here now. The tears stopped flowing, but my little joke did nothing to ease the mood.
A moment later, they announced the boarding of my flight and we knew that this was to be it. I leaned up and kissed him lightly. He did not move or kiss me back, just continued to stare in my eyes.
I told him he had to go along, as I could not go through that door with him standing there. But he would not, could not move. I even tried to turn him around and push him out the door, but his body was heavy, immobile...like a statute in a garden, standing watch over all the flowers.
I knew I had to leave...so with another quick kiss, I whispered good-bye, turned around and walked to the security door, handed over my ticket and entered, without glancing back.
I was really late now and had to run down the hallways to board my flight. I found my seat and was barely buckled in before we were on our way, taxi-ing out to the runway. I was numb.... and watched out the window, as the terminal passed us by...the jet engines revving up for take off.
When I felt the wheels leave the pavement and we were finally airborne, I knew for sure that I had left my island paradise...I couldn't stop the tears then, as they spilled out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.....
I tossed and turned...the day's events filled my waking dreams. When the sun finally peeked it's way into my room through the half-closed shutters, I knew that it was useless.
I got up and dragged my tired *** down to the beach and laid in a lawn chair left by some late-night partiers, hoping the sing-song sound of the waves lapping up on the shore would lull me to sleep.
It worked. When I awoke, the beach was buzzing with activity....it was already mid-morning. Wow! I must have been really tired.
After a shower and some coffee, I headed down the beach to visit some friends. The feel of the soft white sand and warmth of the sun shining down pon my face felt relaxing and I temporarily forgot about the events of the day before...and the rasta.
When I returned, sometime later that afternoon, a group of friends were standing out on the beach in front of my yard.When they saw me, one hurried over to say that Jan was looking for me.
When I found her, she asked if I had seen her brother. It seems he was suppose to go to the country last night....people were waiting for him....but he never showed up.
I explained what had happened the night before (kinda, sort of) and that I had not seen him at all that day. But when I went back to my room, there was a note slipped under my door;
'Sorry I missed you. We need to talk. Meet me at **** around 4 o'clock.' It wasn't signed, but I knew who it was from.
I glanced at my watch. That was in an hour! Took a quick shower, changed and wolfed down some food before I headed over to the requested spot.
He was already there...waiting for me. Though my heart was racing, I strolled casually toward him. Deliberately taking my time, as if I had all the time in the world.
When I reached him, he stood up... and without saying a word wrapped his arms around me and kissed me.
This wasn't the same kiss I had received the previous night. It was hard, probing, demanding. I was lucky he has holding me....cuz I might just have fell over.
After what seemed an eternity, he released my lips and blazed a trail along my face over to my ear, where he whispered; 'Lacy, will you come to the country with me?"
There was no way I was going to refuse him. But my mouth wouldn't work properly and all I could do was nod.
He let me go and I felt like I had heat exhaustion. My head was spinning, my legs felt like rubber bands and I had to blink....several times...just to stop the onset of tunnel vision.
He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed each finger tenderly, then said, 'You will need to pickup a few things, as we will not be returning to the beach. Is that ok?'
Huh? Is what ok? I wasn't sure what he just said. The whole time he had been performing this little game with my fingertips, he was staring into my eyes and my head was BUZZING!!!
When I didn't respond, he stopped and clenched my hand in his, a look of concern entered his eyes when he said, 'Is it ok that we don't come back to the beach?'
I almost laughed. He thought I wasn't going to come with him, that I didn't want to leave the beach.
I couldn't think of anything or anyone so important to keep me here... and I told him so. He smiled and chuckled alittle bit and we headed over to the yard to pickup the things I would need.
Jan was the first to see us approach. Her worried look, now replaced by alittle grin at the sight of us together....strolling down the beach....hand in hand.
She scolded him for his long absence, but did not ask where he had been. Just let him know that he was needed elsewhere and that he should get along on his way.
'I'm taking Lacy with me.' Was all he replied and Jan didn't look to surprised at this announcement.
I packed a few thing in my carry-on bag and we were shortly in the car on our way to.....well, at that point I had no idea where we were going....and it didn't much matter.
We traveled on the secondary roads in silence. I could tell he had driven along these roads many times, as he dodged pot holes and such with ease, occasionally beeping the horn and waving at people we passed.
We turned off the paved road onto a small dirt driveway, the entrance hidden by heavy bush. It wound it's way back at least 1 mile, at times I wasn't sure if the car was going to make it....the ruts were so deep, that we were scraping the bottom.
We passed 3 small shacks on the way. One near the entrance and the other 2 about 1/2 way in. At each shack,he stopped and a man came out to greet him. I was introduced as his 'Lady' and their reaction to this statement was startled surprise.
Though the rasta knew I could understand patios he refrained from divulging this fact to these men. So I had to listen to a tierney of words about this announcement, at some point all 3 stating.....'But you are Rasta!'.
Ummmmm.....this was interesting. It seems I may not be the only one who was breaking some rules.
When we reached the end of the drive, there was a 2-story concrete home perched on the top of a hill overlooking a valley carpeted with trees. It was so beautiful, inviting......the sweet scent of wood and water, a sharp contrast to the salty air of the beach.
He walked around the car and opened my door, lifted me out and said; 'Welcome to my home.'
His home? Wow! I had no idea where we were headed when we left the beach, but this is not what I expected. I wondered aloud, what was he doing living in Europe, with a home like this waiting for him?
He chuckled at my question, but did not answer it directly, and instead asked one of his own;
'And would you continue to live in America, if a home like this was waiting for you?''
I was quick enough to know NOT to answer that loaded question! Pretending not to hear, I instead walked over to the side of the house and looked over the valley before me.
He came up behind, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back into his chest.
Ummmmm...... I could stay like this forever I thought and closed my eyes, as he placed little light kisses along the top of my head, rocking me back and forth to the beat of his heart.
After awhile, he stopped, turned me around to him and said; 'Come on, I have a surprise for you.' Then led me down a path under the trees and into the valley....
I heard the trickle of water before we reached the bottom of the path and as we came out of the trees the sun shone brightly off a small river, barely knee deep.
I laughed for joy at the sight of this little paradise tucked away at the bottom of the hill and couldn't resist kicking off my shoes and running right in, wading over to the other side.
He laughed at my delight, but did not join me. With the river between us, I stared back at him. The sun shining down on the patch of grass he was standing on.
All around him were shadows, except for that spot...almost like heaven had cast a glow around just him.
'But this isn't the surprise, come back over here.' he said, so I waded over to his side and we followed the river downstream for a bit.
It gradually got wider and deeper until I saw what he had meant by the surprise.....it was a pool - clear, cool with a rocky bottom wore away by the light current. Almost 20' around, the river filled it to chest high before it continued on it's way down the valley again.
I was itching to jump in.....but that meant taking off all my clothes...and I was alittle embarrassed at this thought. He took my hand and we walked over to a well-worn bench that had been built between 2 trees and sat down.
He then told me the story of how he had found this little river and pool many years before and was determined to make it his.
He spent a good while deciding on the right spot, on top of the hill for his home, in order to catch the morning sun from his 2nd floor bedroom window and contemplate the beauty of the valley below.
He had spent many hours sitting on this bench observing the quiet nature around him. Then he told me, from the first moment he saw me, he knew, that he had to bring me here. Knew I would appreciate it as much as he....and I did.
We sat there, talking, as the setting sun cast a shadow across the pool that gradually drew closer until it covered the entire river and it began to get dark.
He led me back up the path and into the house. It was sparsely furnished...but EXTREMELY clean... like someone had very recently swept and aired it out.
I walked around and looked in all the rooms....touched the things that were display there....and I must admit, looked for clues of a woman's presence. There were none.
This was definitely a man's domain...from the rough furniture in the living room, the lack of decorations in the kitchen (don't women always have things hanging on the kitchen walls?) to the toilet seat in the upright position (hehehe).
Besides the large living room and the kitchen, there was a small study and a bathroom on the first floor. The second floor contained 3 bedrooms...2 small ones and a larger 'master suite'.
It was here that I stopped and looked out of the window onto the valley.....peering intently, trying to get a glimpse of the river below, but the trees covered everything and all I could see was their green foliage blowing in the light breeze.
He let me wander around his house without following me, but after awhile I heard him climb the stairs and then join me at the window.
We stood looking out at the countryside until the sun fell below the other side of the house and we could no longer see any details of the valley.
He asked me if I was hungry. I really wasn't, but I said yes as an excuse to hurry up and leave his bedroom.
I joined him in the kitchen and sat down at a small table flanked by 2 chairs. He put some water on the stove for tea and fished some fruit and bread out of the frig. (How did those things get there?) We didn't bring anything with us, but it seemed the house had been cleaned and stocked in preparation for his arrival. I made no mention of this fact....as I wasn't sure I wanted to know who had done it.
We talked of other things as he made the tea and sliced the bread and fruit. (Nothing I'm going to tell you here.) And when he finally sat down, he moved his chair next to mine, took my hand, looked into my eyes and said; 'So what do you think of my house?'
I didn't know what he wanted me to say. It was a nice house on a beautiful piece of property, but instead I said; 'It's alittle bare, don't you think?' Dumb, dumb, dumb..but he made me nervous.
But he just laughed and said that he hadn't quite got around to furnishing it yet. Was it really that bad?
Well now I felt bad. I didn't mean to diss his home and I stumbled on my words as I tried to correct myself. But he just put his finger to my lips to quiet me and said it was ok, he knew what I meant.
Then he began running his finger sensually over my lips, all the while still staring in my eyes.
I knew he was going to kiss me again....and this time, I couldn't wait. We both leaned in, together, and met in the middle of the space between us.
It was just like the first time....quiet, reserved. He moved his hand behind my head and pulled me closer as the kiss took on a deeper tone.
I felt like climbing right up into his lap to feel his body against mine. And as soon as that thought entered my mind, he released me and drew back, his hand still on the back of my head, to look in my eyes once more.
I am positive he could read that thought there. But he didn't say anything or pursue the advantage I laid before him.
This time, it was him, who sighed and look away, moving his hand from my head to pick up his tea for a sip.
Ahhhhh...now I was confused....had no clue what he was thinking. Kiss me, don't kiss me....what was up with this? I had already resigned myself to the fact that I was GOING to break ALL of my rules, and now he seemed to have taken up those rules pon himself.
He started talked again and the moment passed. We ate and drank (I guess I was hungry after all) and when we had finished, he picked up the mess and rinsed out the cups. I wandered into the living room and sat down on the couch.
I heard him behind me, doing something and then I heard music. A soft reggae song played from a cassette as he sat down next me and pulled me over to his side, so we were touching.
After a few moments, he began the tale of how and why he went farrin and the circumstances surrounding his life abroad. We sat there together for the longest time, talking, listening to the music, talking some more (Boy, we do alot of talking don't we ...hehehe).
It must have been very late, cuz I found myself suddenly yawning up a storm. I quickly covered my mouth, hoping he wouldn't think he was boring me. But he could see that my eye lids were getting heavy and it was time to turn in.
He said something about plans together tomorrow and I woke right up...thinking, what about tonite? Here I was alone with him, in his house, no one for miles....he wanted me, I wanted him...but he had never mentioned anything about it or gave me a clue about what was going to happen next.
Was he waiting for me? I sat up and looked over at him. He stop talking and a soft, loving look entered his eyes.
I'm gonna kiss him, I said to myself and I reached over and did just that. He pulled me closer and moved his arms around me. This time I did climb into his lap.
His strong arms gently held me, muscles flexing, as if I might break, if he held on too tight. I leaned up against his chest and felt his heart beating wildly. Ummmm...this is a good sign, perhaps I will be breaking those rules tonite after all....hehehe
We stayed like that, exploring each other, and a short time later, I felt his 'rude boy' pushing up against me. He adjusted my body against him, his lips never leaving mine, until I was no longer sitting directly pon 'him'.
His kisses got lighter and more playful. He moved his lips from mine and buried his head in my neck to taste the sweetest there. I could feel my heart pounding under his slow and lazy assault.
I arched my back....and almost slid off him and onto the floor. Opps...we both giggled and the intenseness of the moment passed. He moved his hands up to either side of my face and pulled my head down to look in his eyes ....they were as big as saucers....staring at me.
What do you want from me? I thought and then found myself repeating it out loud to him. 'Nothing, Lacy', he said, 'nothing, you don't want to give me. I'm just happy being here with you, talking with you, looking at you, holding you.' Well that almost made me cry. I didn't know what to say.
He then gently lifted me off his lap and set me down next to him. I couldn't look at him. We sat there for a few moments in silence, then he got up and turned off the music and the lights.
He came up behind me on the couch, placed his hand on my shoulder and said; 'It's time we go to sleep.' Was this finally his clue? I automatically got up and followed him to the stairs, thankful the partial darkness hid the fact that I could hardly walk for my trembling body.
He led me up the stairs and into 1 of the smaller bedrooms. My carry-on bag was lying on the bed. What? What was this? I turned around to ask him just that, and he must have anticipated my confusion because he placed his finger on my lips and sh-sh-sh-ed me before I could speak.
It was too dark to see into his eyes so I had no idea what he was thinking as he looked at me and tenderly brushed my hair away from my face.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut off the words with his lips. Then pulled me close and whispered into my ear; 'Not tonite, Lacy, soon...'
You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Here I was all ready and he was the one saying, not now. Well, so much for my plans....he obviously had some of his own that he was not going to tell me about tonite.
He held me for a moment longer, gently, tenderly kissed me again and then left the room, closing the door.
Great! What was I gonna do now? I almost marched myself right over there to jump in his bed....but decided against it. Ok, soon come....whatever!
I tossed my bag on the floor and crawled into the bed, still in my clothes. I was kinda mad and I laid there stewing for awhile.
But before I knew it, I was asleep ....dreaming dreams of the little river and pool I had visited...and his hot body up against mine....
When I awoke the next morning, for a moment I had no idea where I was.
The sun was streaming in the closed window making the room unbearably hot. I had fell asleep in my clothes and they had wound themselves around my body and were now glued to my skin.
I got out of bed and peeled them off my body. Then dug around in my bag, donned the light cover-up I usually wore on the beach and dragged a comb through my hair. I wish I had a mirror.
I walked over to the window to looked down upon the valley. The view from the master suite was framed perfectly between a natural 'V' formed by the trees.
In this bedroom, it was slightly off center, but still breathtaking. I could see a glimpse of the path that we had taken down to the river...the urge to run right down and jump in the pool was overwhelming.
And immediately upon that thought, came another.....uummmm, I wonder if I could sneak down the stairs and do just that? It is not that I wanted to avoid the rasta, I just needed some time alone with my thoughts....and this room was TOO HOT!
I opened the door and peeked into the hallway. The door to his room was open. The bed was made, everything in it's place. Nothing looked differently from the previous day, as if he had not even been there.
Not a noise came from the house....this was my chance. I grabbed my towel and headed down the stairs, trying to tiptoe so as not to make my presence known.
When I reached the bottom, I cautiously looked around the corner into the living room. No one. Not stopping once, I sped out the door, around the corner of the house and down the path.
I slowed when I reached the safety of the trees. I was pretty proud of myself, being able to give him the slip.....but it seemed too easy. Where was he? Not in the house....not in the yard. Did he leave me here, alone? Time enough to figure that out later. A swim, I thought.....I needed a swim.
In no time, I reached the river and made my way along the shore to the pool. It was quiet, deserted...the current making little ripples along it's surface.
I slipped out of my cover-up and laid it and my towel on the bench and slowly walked into the water. Yikes!!! It was cold. So cold, I started to shiver, clutching my arms to my chest.
Ok..just jump in, I told myself and I walked out determinately until the water was just under my knees....then dove in.
I gasped at the feel of the water on my hot skin. Wow! It was really cold! I wrapped my arms around by body and crunched down until the water came to just underneath my chin.
I stayed there like that for awhile...until my teeth stopped chattering. When the coolness began to feel refreshing, I floated on my back, staring up into the sunlight, lazily paddling the entire length of the pool. Aaahhhh...this was much better.
I swam around abit, dove in a few more times and explored the rocky bottom, looking for any special stones I might pickup as a keepsake of this place. Then swam down to where the pool emptied into the river again, to continue it's path down the valley.
I could not, would not, think of the rasta. What was going to happen, would happen, and I could do nothing about it....so instead I just let myself go with the flow of the current.
After awhile, I felt my hands start to wrinkle and sighed at the thought of ending this peaceful interlude. But I knew he had things planned for that day, so I headed back to the shore reluctantly.
Before I even reached the middle of the pool, I heard a noise...the rustle of leaves under foot...and stopped. Was someone coming? Was it him?
I swam back to the other side of the pool, a little nervous at being discovered, here ...with my clothes...over there! From around the corner, the rasta purposely strode, a towel flung over his shoulder.
He walked over to the bench, set it down and with his back to me, began taking off his clothes, laying them in a neat pile next to mine.
I did not move as he turned around, walked into the water, up to his knees and dove in. He did not surface right away and I wondered where he went. Then I saw him swimming toward me, under the water, to pop up only a foot in front me..shaking his head, the water falling from his dreads.
'Good Morning, Lacy', his voice was low, teasing. I said good morning and then informed him that I was done with my swim and was on my way out.
'So soon?' he laughed. I showed him my wrinkled fingers and explained that my toes where in the same sorry state and I was getting cold. With that, I started to walk over to the shore, but he grabbed my arm as I passed him.
'Don't leave yet', this time I could hear a slight pleading in his voice and I smiled.
I turned back to him, he released my arm and turned my head up to his. He looked into my eyes and then leaned down and lightly kissed me.
Though we were only inches apart, both naked, only our lips touched as his mouth roamed over mine. Then with a rush of water, he lifted his arms up to hold me and I leaned into his chest......
Well.. let's just say, Lacy broke Rule #1 right there in the pool ....and again, a little later on the shore.
By the time we returned to the house...it was mid-afternoon. On the way back, I noticed that he had fruit with him and asked where he had gotten it from. He said he was out picking it when he heard me jump into the pool.
'What? You mean you watched me...the whole time?' I demanded. He smiled, kind of sheepishly...he had been caught....and didn't know what to say.
He stammered out a rather weak apology (he wasn't sorry one bit!) but said he couldn't help himself. I looked so beautiful and graceful playing in the pool, he didn't have the heart to disturb me.
I let it pass. I was too 'satisfied' with the events of the morning to be mad at him. I suppose I should be glad it was just him.....and not a show for his whole crew as well. I would just have to be more careful in the future.
We finished off the rest of the bread and the fruit he had picked, then jumped into the car, for what he called 'The Great Link-up'. We drove all around the countryside meeting up with his friends and family. As before, he did not mention to anyone that I understood their patios conversations and I never really joined in....just listened.
I learned alot...about him, what he did here, who these people were and how everything was connected.
I became more intrigued with him and his place in this part of the country, at each stop. He did not hide anything from me.....and we talked about what was said, while driving from yard to yard. Everyone held him in great respect....and me in turn, as his 'Lady'.
Several more times I heard the phase, 'But you are Rasta.' from people we met ....but all in all, most where especially glad to see him happy, albeit even with me.
As he later said, when I questioned him about this, 'The alternative to happy is pissed off at them....something they were not to eager have happen.'
I got the feeling he ruled with an iron-fist.....but I did not see any of this in him. Perhaps I was good for him after all. My calm, tranquil presence had a soothing affect on him. I would say he was mellow, reflective.....but it seems that is not how it had always been.
We traveled the countryside well into the night, the last stop was at his family's home. It had been 6 months since I had been there last. The house, though not quite finished, was occupied by his parents.
They were all very happy to see me again....though each raised their eyebrows when they found that Jan was not with us....it was just the rasta and me.
I later tried to talk to another of his sisters, to find out her feelings about the fact I was with him.....but before we could really talk, he wandered over to us, bent down and kissed me, before placing an arm around my waist, as if to say to her, this was for real.
The talk focused on the final building plans, which were set for the next day. A dozen or so people had been lined up to complete the upper decking.
It seemed strange to hear him talk about it, as if he had been involved from the beginning, as I too had been involved with this project for many years and here was something we had in common, though we did not even know it.
It was after mid-night before we left. The cool mountain air had turned to fog, covering the road, but not slowing our progress. When we finally pulled into the driveway, I was glad to be back safe. What a raggamuffin ride! I was wide wake for the whole trip, expecting something to jump out into our path...if it had, we would have certain hit it.
I washed up, then sat down on the couch. He put water on the stove for tea and when it was done, joined me there.
We talked about the events of the day, the people and the conversations that I taken place and he explained to me more of what was happening here.
I found myself leaning over to put my head on his shoulder as he talked, his sing-song accent was like music, gently lulling me to sleep. And sleep I did.
I awoke slightly when he lifted me off the couch, but I gave him no hint that I knew what he was doing. Just wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head against his shoulder.
He carried me up the stairs and into the same small bedroom, laying me gently on the bed. I rolled over, as if still fast asleep, but could feel him standing there looking down on me.
After awhile, I heard him leave and close the door. I struggled out of my clothes and opened the window slightly, not wanting to awake to the same stiffling hot that I had that morning.
When I laid back down, in moments, I was fast asleep. No thinking, no dreaming...just tired bliss.
L-a-c-y....wake up...we have to go....L-A-C-Y...come on honey..wake up
I heard a voice, as if in a dream. I felt myself shoo way the hand that was rocking me. No! Let me sleep. But that hand was persistent, so I turned over and opened my eyes. The rasta was standing over me. 'Come on love, we have some house building to do today. Get up, we are already late.''
I sat up and the sheet fell away from my body. What? What's wrong? It took me a moment to clear my vision and then I quickly realized I was exposing myself and pulled the sheet back up around me. What time was it? Very early....7am. Oh man, no way! I laid back down and closed my eyes.
But he was in no mood for my dalliance. 'Come on Lacy. If we don't get over there soon..we are not going to finish today.' as he said this, he was fishing through my bag and tossed some shorts and a t-shirt on the bed. 'I'll make you some tea while you get dressed.' and with that he walked out the door and down the stairs.
Alright..come on, get up, I said to myself. I slipped out of bed, thankful I had opened the window last night, as the room was not nearly as hot as the day before. I put on the clothes he had laid on the bed, combed my hair and then joined him in the kitchen.
I gulped down the tea he had made for me....wishing it was some good strong coffee. And though I was still half asleep, he ushered me into the car and we were on our way in no time. I dozed on the way over to his parent's home, paying no attention to the activities taking place in the small towns we passed.
We were the last to arrive. Now I understood his urgency. Although all the workers had been there for at least an hour, nothing was being done. Everyone stood around chatting, like it was a Saturday afternoon bashment, instead of a work day.
The car had barely stopped, before the rasta jumped out and started barking orders to the workmen who were just standing there. I had to laugh at the speed with which they all scattered. Some over to the sand pile, others grabbed shovels to bring gravel to the mixing area...no one was chatting now!! hehehe
I climbed out of the car and walked down the driveway to the little roadside store his parents owned, hoping to find something to eat....I was famished.
The store was a rough wooden shack, no more than 12'w x 8'd. Under the covered verandah, on either side of the doorway, two benches had been built and a table made of the same materials, was standing in front of one of the benches.
Inside, a wide counter about chest high ran the width of the building. A board had been cut out, afterwards, fitted with hinges and used to access the space behind the counter. There were no stools or chairs on this side of the counter, as there was barely enough room to fit 3-4 people.
As I entered, his mother got up off the stool next to the chest refrigerator behind the counter, flipped up the hinged access board and gave me a big welcoming hug. I complained of an empty belly and she laughed, at both my patios phrasing and the all too familiar question posed to her over the years, by her 7 children.
Then she told me she had just the thing to satisfy me, hurried back around the counter and produced a whole banana bread, wrapped in tin foil. I absolutely loved her banana bread and when Jan told her I would be visiting, she had made this, especially for me.
I took the bread and a boxed orange juice out onto the verandah and sat down. She joined me there, on the other bench and we talked a bit. Well... she mostly talked, I answered briefly, in between nyaming down 1/2 the entire loaf of bread.
After I had stilled the rumbling in my belly, I leaned back on the bench and we had a real talk. I asked her about the rest of the family (two new babies, since I had left) and how it was now, living in a home with running water and a real bathroom and kitchen (though still only cold water).
She laughed again and said it really didn't matter to her. It was her children and their father that insisted on the new home. She had been content with what they already had. Though the kitchen was nice and it was easier to keep clean when the rain wasn't constantly coming in, between the spaces in the roof and the walls, as it had, in their old home.
I smiled at these comments and could imagine myself saying the same things in her place. I really loved this woman and her easy ways and knew she felt the same about me. We chatted for alittle longer and though I knew she wanted to ask me, she purposely steered the conversation away from anything to do with her son, the rasta.
As did all of his family that day. Though I saw them watching us, whenever he came over to me and planted a kiss on my lips or casually placed his arms around me. I was dying to know what they thought of us, but he never left my side long enough, to ask any of them.
I left the store and wandered back up the driveway, grabbed a chair from the kitchen and settled in for what was to be a very long day indeed.
The progress was slow going. Only 2-3 of the workmen actually worked at a steady pace. Chase was constantly yelling at the rest and several times that day he grabbed a shovel and began furiously mixing concrete, as if to show them how it was suppose to be done.
He had not planned on doing any work, just supervising (he was paying these men well) and I cringed as the concrete spilled over his good shoes and splattered up on his jeans. He had removed his shirt and the muscles in his back, flexed in a rhythmic motion that I could not tear my eyes away from. I shifted in my chair at the thought of those muscles flexing in a different motion....with me.
I also thought of the other times I had been here for the building of this house. Those times had been with friends and the difference was extremely apparent. The work had been done in a much more systematic and organized fashion and I wondered where they had recruited this sorry, lazy lot.
No break was given (though they took enough on their own) until mid-afternoon, when lunch was served...fish, vegetables and bread. There was grumblings about where the rum was, as all they had received to drink was water, but I had to agree with this strategy. Nothing would have gotten done, at all that afternoon, with one hand on the shovel or bucket and the other on a cup of rum.
It was almost dark before the last buckets were poured and the decking was completed. The workmen took turns washing off at the pipe and then filed past the rasta, who handed out JA$500 to each of them, before they went to their own homes for the night.
When all of the workers had left, the rasta walked over to me. I grinned at his appearance. Concrete covered his shoes entirely and jeans, to the knees. His arms were two-tone, the chalky substance on his hands up past his elbows, as well as stuck on his bare chest and back and dangling in pieces from his dreads.
He leaned down to kiss me and I stopped his progress by placing my fingertips on his chest and scooted up out of the chair, taking a few steps back. Laughingly, I told him he not only smelled terrible and was a complete mess, but I did not want to get any of it on me and directed him over to the pipe to clean up.
The normal evening activities were just beginning (customers at the store, dinner to be readied) and the rasta wanted to get home to change, so we did not linger too much longer. I thanked his mother again for the banana bread, the remaining portion was tucked underneath my arm as we said our good-byes, got in the car and backed out the driveway.
As we drove, I told him of the house building I had participated in. I teased him about the fact that this house would never have gotten built with the sorry state of his workforce, in comparison to those Jan and I had recruited. He did not think it was so assuming and I laughed even harder at the scowl that appeared on his face, when I told him that those we had recruited worked for FREE.
When we returned home, he went immediately to the bathroom to take a shower. I put water on for tea and when it was done, made myself a cup and attacked what was left of the banana bread and some of the fruit in the frig.
Just as I had finished, he walked into the kitchen, with only a towel around his waist. He looked much cleaner, but I could tell he was still fuming about the day's events. I said I needed a shower as well and left him there, to his sulking.
The shower felt so good...and for the first time in 2 days, I was able to wash my hair. I stood under the water until it got cold, then dried off and put on one of the light summer dresses I had packed.
He was sitting on the couch in a pair of shorts, reggae music was playing low, an empty plate (that had held something) was on the end table. I was glad he had eaten, replenished his energy, cuz I hoped he was gonna need for later. (hehehe)
I sat down beside him and the sweet scent of jasmine floated over to me. I couldn't resist the urge to lean in and bury my face in his hair, the source of that wonderful smell. He laughed when he heard me inhale his scent deeply, then shook his head, running his fingers thru his dreads, pushing them off his face.
I leaned my head on his shoulder and he placed his hand on the inside of my thigh, running his fingers up and down, from my knee to just barely underneath my dress...going no farther...and making the hair on my arms stand up and my nipples push up against my dress.
He continued in this teasing way a little longer, before he leaned over and captured my mouth with his. The kiss was so sweet and so tender, that when he stopped his thigh-roaming, to put his arms around me, I sighed in anticipation of the night ahead.
When the kiss finally ended, I climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs, to face him. Then put both my hands on his face, turned it up to mine and looked into his eyes.
He smiled and asked if I was ready to go to bed....I grinned back and nodded....and in one quick move, he scooped me up in his arms and headed up the stairs. We were both laughing before we even reached his room.......
The next 2 days were very much like the first. We traveled around the countryside, stopping occasionally to visit, then back on the road again.
The next 2 nights were very much like the night of the house building. I no longer slept in the small spare bedroom, but had moved my things over into the master suite. Each night, falling asleep in the rasta's arms.
The night before I was to go home, we stopped at the beach to collect the rest of my bags. Knowing I would not be returning, I made the rounds and said good-bye to all my friends. They were disappointed that I had not been able to spend time visiting with them..but, next time, I promised...not sure when that time would be.
I awoke early on Thursday morning, the sun was just starting to spread it's rays across the floor through the window in the master bedroom. I could feel the rasta's light breath on the back of my neck, we were laying together on our sides, bodies touching all the way down to our feet.
His arm was cradled over my waist, his hand casually cupping my breast. I sunk down closer to him, not wanting to get up, not wanting to move...but knew that this was not possible. I had to be on the road to the airport by 9am.
I rolled over to face him....he did not stir. I brushed the dreads away from his face and ran my fingers down along his cheek and over to his mouth, brushing his lower lip with my fingertip. He looked so peaceful and I sighed at the fact that this was to be the last time I would wake up in his arms.
I continued my light fondling of my face until his lips turned up into a smile, before he opened his eyes to look at me. Neither of us said anything, just looked at each other for a moment longer and then he kissed me...and I kissed him back. Not wanting to miss one second together, we came together with an urgency and a longing different from the past nights. When it was over, the sun was blazing into the room, announcing the new day.
We had lingered too long in bed and I was fortunate that all my bags had been packed and were waiting by the door. No time for breakfast or tea....just straight from bed to the car.
Over the past few days, when we talked about what would happen, when I returned home to the States. We never really got past the; 'I'm gonna kidnap you and keep you here forever' part. He may have said this teasingly, but I know that is what he wanted. I also knew that this was impossible.
I had responsibilities. Foremost my son, who would be entering high-school this fall. My job...they couldn't do without me, even this short trip was going to mean over-time for a week. My house...and all that was required of a home owner.
When I asked him about his returning to Europe, he said that he would wait for me in Jamaica forever. That nothing in Europe held him there. He much preferred his home in the yard, on the hill, overlooking the valley. I had to agree. I would not have minded waking up every morning to the beauty framed in the window of his bedroom.
But...circumstances....things...were in our way and prevented me from even thinking in that direction. All I could do was look at his handsome profile, as we drove through the countryside, on our way to Mo Bay.
We said very little during the entire drive. When I asked him to please talk to me, all he could say was... that when he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes watered. I almost cried myself, at this confession, and decided maybe it was best.
I was the last to check in at the airport. We walked together to the security entrance and knew that this was to be where we parted.
He turned me to him and wrapped his arms around me.... held on for the longest time. I could tell he was having a hard time containing his emotions, as his body heaved with several sighs, before I moved away and looked up into his face.
His mouth was turned down in a frown, eyes rimmed with tears, on the verge of falling. 'Please don't go Lacy.', his voice was low, pleading...and then the tears did fall. I found myself beginning to cry as well. But did not want to spend our last moments together...standing here bawling all over each other.
So, I smiled through my tears and wiped his away from his face. Then with a short laugh, reminded him that 'He was Rasta', what would his crew think, if they could see him here now. The tears stopped flowing, but my little joke did nothing to ease the mood.
A moment later, they announced the boarding of my flight and we knew that this was to be it. I leaned up and kissed him lightly. He did not move or kiss me back, just continued to stare in my eyes.
I told him he had to go along, as I could not go through that door with him standing there. But he would not, could not move. I even tried to turn him around and push him out the door, but his body was heavy, immobile...like a statute in a garden, standing watch over all the flowers.
I knew I had to leave...so with another quick kiss, I whispered good-bye, turned around and walked to the security door, handed over my ticket and entered, without glancing back.
I was really late now and had to run down the hallways to board my flight. I found my seat and was barely buckled in before we were on our way, taxi-ing out to the runway. I was numb.... and watched out the window, as the terminal passed us by...the jet engines revving up for take off.
When I felt the wheels leave the pavement and we were finally airborne, I knew for sure that I had left my island paradise...I couldn't stop the tears then, as they spilled out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.....
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