Plundered Christmas (4 page)

Read Plundered Christmas Online

Authors: Susan Lyttek

Tags: #christian Fiction

BOOK: Plundered Christmas
11.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Still, I didn't like the tone this episode set for the rest of the Christmas with Margo. What kind of grandmother gave an eleven-year-old boy a game with strong adult language, graphic violence, and sexual content?

Fortunately, the drive didn't take long.

Soon, James and Charlie had transferred everything from the limo to the yacht.

Then Charlie followed us onboard, explaining that he would act as the steward on our journey. In addition, the yacht had a cook to prepare us our meals, and a captain to steer us safely to the island, as well as couple of young lads who acted as cleaning crew and whatever else needed doing.

The Banet's boat was almost two-hundred-feet long, bigger than some cruise ships I'd seen. It had eight bedrooms, kitchen, dining area, and even a hot tub on the main deck.

Jelly, finally loose from his hours of travel captivity ran this way and that, eager to see whatever there was to be seen.

“Follow him, Justin,” James and I said in unison, handing him a bag and an extra-absorbent doggy pad in case our pooch got too excited.

Josie told Aimee she was pretty. The young woman melted at that and took Josie on a tour of the ship since she and Frank had arrived an hour before we did.

“Well, with my best girl gone off with your daughter, I guess there's nothing for me to do other than show you around, too,” Frank said.

Dad, who'd gone over to the island two days prior, wasn't on the yacht with us.

“Just as well,” Frank said. “That gives us an opportunity to talk about the bride-to-be without Dad swooning over her.”

He walked us out to the front, the prow of the yacht, so we could enjoy the breeze in our faces as she made her way south. He explained the layout of the ship. “Captain Blake said it would take eight to ten hours to get there if we pushed it. That would bring us to landing on Banet Island between ten and midnight. Instead, he plans to take a gentler pace and dock us first thing in the morning.”

That didn't sound safe to me. “How can he pilot it while he's sleeping?”

Frank laughed at me. “Charlie is licensed to sail the yacht, too. They'll take turns. No worries sister o' mine. Even the cook and the deckhands have been trained to do the basics in case of an emergency.”

I loved the feeling of the yacht driving through the waves and the slight crash into each trough. But his talk of worries reminded me about the conversations Dad and I had with Frank every time we met a new girlfriend. “So Aimee's the one, and I don't have to worry about my brother spending his life all lonesome?”

“Maybe.” I'd never seen Frank turn so many shades of red.

Wisely, James had wandered off on his own to avoid the sibling stuff.

“Maybe?”

He brought a small box out of his pocket. “I did bring this with me for Christmas Eve.”

I didn't even look at it or open it. I could see by the velvety, little black box what it contained. Instead, I lunged at him with a big hug. “About time!”

 

****

 

The kids took to being on the water without any issues.

I felt a little queasy, but not bad, so I put on the wristbands to combat sea sickness that Ann Selkirk had loaned me. In about an hour, the distress subsided. I wasn't sure if I could give the bands credit, but Ann did, and I didn't really want to take them off and experiment.

Around nine that evening it was still warm enough for all of us to put on our swimsuits and take a turn in the hot tub.

Because it had been such a long day, I started to nod off as soon as I hit the warm water. I didn't even get to enjoy it.

James got nervous about me dozing in the water, so he wrapped me in a towel and carried me back to our room for the night.

It might have been romantic if it weren't for the fact that I argued about wanting to stay every time I woke up enough to realize what he was doing.

He plopped me in the chair in the room and put the spare blanket over me.

I woke up a little while later, uncomfortable in the wet swimsuit. Somehow, I got myself dried off and into bed.

James had not yet returned from tending our kids and the dog.

I hoped he wouldn't let them stay up too late. But exhausted as I was, the rocking of the ship put me right out.

I woke to a
thunk.

Then, Jelly, whom James had lodged in our room while I slept, started barking his “intruder alert.”

The combination made me shoot out of bed.

The faint glint of early morning sun slanted through the small window. I looked out through it and realized what the “thunk” meant. We had docked on Banet Island.

And the intruder alert from our pooch? The men on shore who were pulling on the cables and tying the yacht down.

James rolled over and yawned. “It's morning?”

“Yep. And we appear to be onshore.” He looked terribly bleary-eyed for my rough and ready Army officer. “What time did you get to bed?”

His mouth stretched open again, and it took him an obvious and intense effort to close his jaw and end the yawn. “Not sure.” The next yawn began with the last word. So he ran through some quick calisthenics and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “After you went to bed, I let the kids stay up and play in and around the hot tub for about an hour.”

I noticed he was fully dressed. Khaki shorts and a polo shirt, but still, who sleeps in that?

“When I started to leave to get the kids settled, Frank pulled me to the side and asked me to come back. Aimee had turned in early, too, and he wanted to talk. So I got the kids quieted down, put Jelly in here with you after making sure he did his business, got into some dry clothes and met Frank on the deck.”

My brother grilling my husband? I had an idea of the subject, but wanted it from the horse's mouth. “So what did you talk about?”

“What he'll do if Aimee says ‘yes.'”

I jumped up and down in little excited bunny hops. “Oh, tell me, tell me.”

At this, a loud, deep horn sounded and shook the whole boat.

“Saved by the bell,” James said.

“Guests of the Banet family, welcome to the island,” came over a loudspeaker. “Please gather your things and disembark at your earliest convenience.”

“But you will tell me, won't you?” I begged as soon as the silence ruled again. I could talk, pack and check on Jelly's wellbeing (since the announcement made him bark) all at the same time.

“I don't…” James began.

Before he could finish, Justin and Josie barged in. “Have you seen it out there? It's like a Robinson Crusoe deserted island!”

“Except people live on it,” Josie clarified for her brother.

 

****

 

Dad had come to the dock to meet us. He apologized for Margo. “She had some family business come up that she needs to attend to.” It was obvious that whatever the family business was, it didn't please my father. “She asked me to give you all her fondest welcome to Banet Island, to help put your bags on the wagon, and then to lead you up to the manor.”

The day was warm and pleasant. A steady, yet gentle breeze came off the ocean. The palm trees swayed; the nearly white sand beckoned. I could see why it reminded Justin of his Robinson Crusoe stories.

“May we come back to this beach once we're settled?” I asked my dad.

He shook his head. “Not this one. It isn't safe. Too many sharks like this cove. Margo and I will show you around the island and to the wading beach after lunch.”

I looked into the crystal blue water. I could see the bottom, and I didn't see any circling fins or other evidence of sharks. Though I didn't say anything, my dad knows me. I don't accept much of anything without proof.

He sighed. “Give me a little of Jelly's kibble,” he asked Justin, who guarded all puppy things.

Dad took a handful and poured it into the water right beside the deck. It only took a few seconds before a mouth of teeth surfaced around the food and a sleek gray shape followed it beneath the deep.

The sight made Josie jump over to me and bury her head in my shoulder.

“Cool!” said Justin.

“Is it gone?” Josie asked.

Jelly added to the chaos by sounding his intruder alert.

I patted Josie's head with my free hand. “It's gone.”

“Not really,” my dad said. “It just dove out of sight. A good-sized population of bull sharks lives on this side of the island. A bull shark was one of the bigger fish that I stuffed for Margo for Christmas. Wait until you see it. They already mounted it above the fireplace. Anyway, these sharks actually like the yacht and dock being here. The shade camouflages them and when the boat goes in and out of the harbor, it stirs up prey for them. The entire location is like a shark paradise.”

Dad was about to say something else when Charlie reminded him that we hadn't yet broken our fast. The kindly gray-haired driver looked furtively at the water as we left. Was it my imagination or did he not want us to know something that Dad intended to tell?

 

****

 

The “little” breakfast they had waiting for us at the great house was amazing. But then, so was the house. I had never seen a place like this except in movies or on tours. While not Biltmore, the estate sprawled over a lower-lying area of the island. The majority of the building was one level. In the center, like a crown, a second level lifted from the rest of the house and allowed entrance to a plaza, with potted plants and benches, surrounded by an ornate iron railing.

From the second floor, off to the south, a turret with windows on all sides rose high. Dad said it doubled as a lighthouse and you could see the entire island from there.

The inside of the house was just as amazing as the outside. Three stairs, all part of a large half-circle of marble, led to the front door. Inside the thick wooden door, the half-circle opened to a marble foyer. Beyond that was a huge room, almost as big as the entire ground floor of my house. Pillars, which looked like the builders had stolen them from a Greek temple, lined the outside walls. On either side of the room, a large archway led toward further rooms. Directly across from the main door, a large metal and glass door led to the kitchen. A fireplace took up a third of the west wall of the large room. Above it, proud and centered, hung the mounted shark my dad had stuffed for Margo.

But easily, the most impressive feature of the room was on the east side. There the ceiling cut away and no pillars interrupted its majesty. A freestanding spiral staircase wound up to the second floor and the lighthouse/observatory level.

How could anyone appreciate Dad's cabin in the Carolina woods after a home like this?

Only one thing disappointed me about Margo's home and the elegant decor. Much to my dismay, I could not see a single Christmas decoration anywhere on house or island. It felt as though we had stepped into a different season of the year, not just a different location.

 

****

 

After I was stuffed on a European-style breakfast buffet of fruits, breads, cold cuts, and yogurt, washed down with liberal amounts of amazing Jamaican coffee, Dad and Margo came into the central patio and let all six of us know that it was time for their tour of the island.

While Dad did offer Margo his arm, I could tell something wasn't right. Unlike the Dad and Margo combination I saw at Thanksgiving, this version of Dad didn't smile.

“Our family landed on this island during the era of slavers and pirates,” Margo said. It was obvious she was proud of her history and had said this spiel a few times before. “The members of the Banet family were traders and this island, between the Bahamas and Florida, made for a great central location. During those days, we anchored a great sailing ship where the yacht sits now.

“Over the years, we established connections with the American colonies and the other British protectorates. We also, from time to time, traded with the Spanish adventurers, though their day and popularity waned as our family grew…” She continued to talk on and on as she walked us around the perimeter. It was obvious that Margo took great pride in the land and in her family's connection to it.

The island, from the ground, took only a little over an hour to sightsee. After touring paradise-like areas, we approached a marshy section, filled with unusual low-growing flowers. They were pretty lilac-colored things that looked fragile and delicate. Wouldn't you know, at this point, Jelly saw a lizard which he had to chase? He pulled sharply away from Josie and lunged for the little creature.

“Stop him!” Margo looked and sounded horrified.

James dove for the end of the leash and gave a sharp, “Heel!”

It took Margo a while to catch her breath. “I lost my own puppy in there when I was young. His name was Trenton, and I got him for Christmas. We were always warned about getting too close to any part of the marsh.” She spoke as if she'd memorized this speech, like a docent at a museum. “When you see any of those purple flowers, back up slowly and carefully. If the weather has been foul or wet, especially, the earth there can quicken.” She gave a wry chuckle. “It does. I wish I hadn't seen a single part of Trenton before he sank. I can never forget it. It would have been easier on me if he had just disappeared. I would have never have known.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Margo showed more emotion at this memory than I had ever seen. Maybe Dad had fallen for this side of the woman. “Every beautiful place must have its downside and this is ours. It's even rumored that pirates used this bog to rid themselves of cantankerous crewmembers. After Trenton's death, I could believe it.”

I looked down at my own pooch, now firmly under his disciplinarian's control. Jelly had his issues, or at least the one issue—the endless drooling—but I'd be a mess if anything happened to our pet. Just the thought of his reaching the end of his natural lifespan made me choke back tears. But to know he had drowned in quicksand, slowly suffocating… That would be unbearable. I looked at the beautiful white and pink blooms that carpeted the bog and shivered. I didn't intend to wander back there anytime soon.

Other books

A Play of Treachery by Frazer, Margaret
Master (Book 5) by Robert J. Crane
Black Box by Amos Oz
The Focaccia Fatality by J. M. Griffin
Dead Lucky by Matt Brolly
A Father In The Making by Carolyne Aarsen
Pitching for Her Love by Tori Blake