The Last Oracle (20 page)

For the first time since their arrival, they took the red Jeep down the steep, deeply-rutted road to the hidden air strip and Alex’s beloved Helio. Valeria discovered that departing in the Helio was more frightening than landing, but within seconds, they were airborne and just brushing some of the treetops.

As they flew over the chain of islands across the Caribbean, and toward their destination, Valeria realized that being inside the sun-baked cabin of the
Helio all day was getting to her. She quickly hopped out at the fuel stops, but the strong smell of gasoline made it worse. She tried drinking more water, determined to enjoy this trip. Finally, she decided that it must’ve been from all of the exertion and nerves from the previous day while scuba diving.

The Pitons loomed high on the horizon of St. Lucia, grand and beckoning. Alex circled the volcanoes to give Valeria a better view. As they pulled out of the second circle, Valeria looked at Alex in near terror.

“I’m going to be sick!”

Grabbing a bag stashed in the dash, Alex handed it to her, and Valeria spent the next five minutes vomiting in the bag—and to her relief, not all over the plane. They landed and Valeria got sick again. This time, she ran to the bathroom and was grateful for the privacy.

They arrived early and so she had a few minutes. In the lobby of the open building, a small television left over from the ’70s blared.

The announcer of the talk show sat with his two guests on cheap folding chairs.

He looked at the notes in his lap and then into the camera. “We would like to thank you for your responses to last week’s topic, ‘The harmful effects of alien blue rays on humans.’

“This week, we have Melanie Martin with us, author of
Just Call Me Cassandra: The Reincarnation of Cassandra of Troy
. Also with us, is Professor Tracy Lowe, Ancient History expert from Duke University in North Carolina.”

“Reincarnation—oh, please!” Valeria quipped as she rolled her eyes and smiled at Alex.

“Farfetched to say the least.” Alex winked.

The camera panned their faces, and Alex narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward.

“Professor Lowe, you have some questions for Melanie?” A neat woman, with her hair tightly bound in a bun, brushed an imagined stray hair back into place before nodding and leaning slightly forward.

“Yes, thank you for inviting me, Mr. Devries.” The professor turned to the woman sitting next to her. “Ms. Martin, I’ve read your account of events in Cassandra’s life. And it reads like a modernized Epic poem. But were you aware that there was extensive editing of the Epic poems, from approximately 560 to 528 BC? It’s believed that the story that you share—that Apollo cursed you by spitting into your mouth—was added by Aeschylus, who was sending a message to the colonies of the Empire that to move against Athens—and by association, Apollo—would incur the wrath of the god, just as Cassandra suffered the wrath of Apollo when she deceived him.”

Valeria lowered her eyebrows and smiled at Alex who was watching intently with a smirk on his face.

Professor Lowe tilted her head to the side and asked, “Are you familiar with historical methods of investigation?” Ms. Martin shook her head as if disinterested. “It does apply here.”

Alex’s smile widened. “Oh, Ms. Lowe, you learned well!”

“You know her?”

A loud voice boomed in the lobby of the airport, “Mr. and Mrs. Morgan?” They both turned to the door where a black man in a white shirt and blue slacks stood.

“Yes, that’s us,” Alex said, standing. They both walked toward the man and then Alex turned back toward Valeria. “Miss Lowe was a student of mine. She was originally interested in law.”

“Hmm…and I’ll bet Ms. Lowe was quite fascinated by her ancient history professor as well.”

“Hmm?”
Alex asked, pretending not to understand Valeria’s insinuation. But Valeria saw the slight smirk of his upturned mouth and couldn’t help but giggle herself.

“Oh, nothing,” she said.

They went to lunch and toured several artists’ studios. They fit in quite well with the other wealthy tourists, as they wandered through the streets, taking in the local shops, and purchasing gifts for Weege and the family. They came upon an elegant jewelry store. Alex was looking at a gold ankle bracelet for Valeria when, suddenly, a ring caught her eye.

“Alex, look!”

In the case was a man’s ring with a large stone that resembled the Cassandra Crystal. Gold and platinum surrounded the stone in an artistic rendition of the triquetra.

“What is that stone?” Valeria asked.

“That is a three carat tanzanite. Your missus has excellent taste, sir.”

“Yes, she does,” Alex responded.

“Do you like it?” Valeria asked.

The clerk held the box toward Alex and he removed the ring, placing it onto his left hand.

“I think we just found my wedding band!” He smiled at the band on his left ring finger and kissed Valeria.

The limo wound through the tropical rain forest en route to their hotel. Valeria was exhausted, but relieved that her stomach handled it well. In the lobby, there were a myriad of stairways.

“Each room has its own unique bridge. Of course, you don’t have a room—we have you in an infinity pool sanctuary,” the woman said, as she checked them in.

Valeria turned to Alex and her eyes got big as she said, “Sanctuary? Sounds like we’re a near-extinct breed.”

“We are,” he whispered in her ear.

The woman escorted them into their room. “They say that the cleanest air in the world is here on St. Lucia,” she said.
“
Each infinity pool sanctuary at Jade Mountain is a carefully designed, individual work of art and architecture. All of the sanctuaries celebrate an unparalleled view of the Pitons and the Caribbean Sea. In all of our sanctuaries, the fourth wall is open to the views while, at the same time, allowing for complete privacy
.
”

Their sanctuary was exactly that, offering a view of the lushly covered Pitons and calm inlet of the Caribbean. They had an infinity pool in their room. It was the most extraordinary hotel room she had ever seen, let alone stayed in.

As exquisite as the view was, Valeria had gotten used to their afternoon naps during their honeymoon. So she rolled into bed while Alex worked. That evening, they sat in the infinity pool with glasses of champagne and watched the sun set behind the Pitons. Then they dressed for dinner at a five-star restaurant. Fortunately, Valeria still had a dress she hadn’t worn. She had gotten used to casual skirts and swimsuits. It was fun to see Alex in his dress slacks and white linen shirt; he looked so incredibly handsome, especially with his deep tan that made his eyes significantly brighter than they already were. 

As they sat at dinner, Alex said, “The first time I saw St. Lucia, I thought I would build a home for us between the Pitons, but they’re volcanoes. Also, I thought there might be too much shade there. So I built our home on St. John, instead.”

“I love our home there. Not quite as much as…” She stopped speaking, unwilling to spoil the mood. “Actually, I guess St. John’s is your getaway,” she said nervously.

“You were right the first time—it is
our
home now. Everything I have is yours—including my heart.” Alex kissed her hand. “But you’ve had that for a very long time.”

∞

They woke the next morning in their king-sized bed, to the luxury of room service. Alex took the tray from the server and tipped him well. Then he set it down on the bed and poured Valeria a cup of coffee with the perfect amount of cream.

“Just the way you like it,” he said, stirring in the cream.

As she sipped it, she thought it wasn’t the coffee she liked. It tasted
off
—maybe the cream was bad. Still, she didn’t want to say anything to Alex. Then she smelled the eggs and bacon and, suddenly, she worried that she was going to be sick again. She set her coffee down and took a few deep breaths, trying to control the nausea. It was disappointing to have the flu when they were really on their last days of their honeymoon.

What a great memory for Alex, she thought. She glanced out at the view of the Pitons with the rising sun shining on them, and then at the tiny sailboats below. She wished she could appreciate it more. Then, suddenly, the nausea swept over her and she bolted for the bathroom—not even taking the time to close the door all the way.

Alex paced back and forth a few times, feeling awkward and helpless; then he went to the door that was slightly ajar. He pushed it open as she vomited in the toilet again and he went to pull her hair back.

“Don’t watch me! Please, Alex! Please, just leave!” she said between violent, empty heaves.

He tried to argue, but then acquiesced for her sense of dignity and backed out, reluctantly sitting on the bed.

A few minutes later, Valeria came out of the bathroom, having brushed her teeth. She glanced at Alex who was looking down at the tile floor.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I haven’t had the flu since I was a kid,” she said, as she curled onto his lap. Seeing his hurt feelings, she brushed his face with her hand. “I feel better now. I’m sorry for yelling at you and pushing you away. I’m just so embarrassed.”

He wrapped his arms around her but he couldn’t look her in the face. Finally, he glanced up and tried to smile.

“Val...” he began, tentatively.

“Alex, I’m sorry that I’ve ruined the end of our honeymoon,” she blurted, as her eyes filled with tears. Then she realized how ridiculous that statement was and that she had just told the love of her life that all of his efforts had been ruined. “I don’t know what I’m saying—our honeymoon wasn’t ruined! And it still isn’t over...maybe this is just a twenty-four hour bug or something.” Still, he didn’t say a word. He just sat with his face locked in some expression that she couldn’t quite grasp. She drew a deep breath in an attempt to withhold the tears that rimmed her eyes. He patted her leg without looking at her, obviously deep in thought. “What’s the matter, Alex? I’m sorry…it’s just that we’re on our honeymoon and no woman wants her husband to see her like that.”

Again, he attempted a smile.

Finally, he spoke, but there was a strange tone to his voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He glanced up at her and brushed her face. “Val, I don’t mean to be overly personal…but do you have…” He shook his head. “I mean, have you had…” He looked up in frustration, expecting that she would not force him to finish his question.

She would have answered if she had any clue of what he was asking.
Had she had a flu shot?
Or did she have food allergies? She wished they could just ignore this and get back to their honeymoon.

Something must have been wrong with the eggs they had the morning before. Or perhaps something about scuba diving just disagreed with her—maybe someone who was sick had used her mouthpiece—that thought made her gag, but she managed to push it from her mind.

“Have I had what?” she asked, as his face reddened and he turned away.

“Val,” he said with a nervous gulp. “I don’t really know about these things.” His face flushed again.

“About what?” she said, beginning to feel just a bit frustrated.

His voice seemed higher than in his normal range when he asked, “Could you be…”

Sudden understanding flooded her consciousness, and she almost laughed—and then she realized that he was serious.

“Oh! You’re…asking about my cycle?”

No one had ever asked her about her menstrual cycles, except the social worker who wanted to ensure that she wasn’t pregnant…yet.

“Oh!” she said, embarrassed.

Suddenly, her mind reeled back to the awkward conversation with her caseworker. The woman who Valeria always imagined had been conned one too many times.

“Listen to me, Valeria. Birth control is your responsibility! Don’t you think for an instant that you can trick some boy into marrying you and giving you a happily-ever-after because you allowed yourself to get knocked-
up. I’ve seen that far too often. Do you know what they do, Valeria? They leave you—do you understand me?”
she said, waving a small foil-wrapped package.

That little conference had occurred a month after Valeria had turned fourteen and she had prayed that the woman wouldn’t demonstrate the use of the condom on a banana again. She had seen little boys naked and she couldn’t imagine that they could grow into something that would fit into a condom.

“Here—take these and remember what I said, Valeria! Birth control is your responsibility!”

Suddenly, she understood Alex’s question all too clearly.

“Alex, no…
No!
I’m not.” She started to laugh when she heard her voice, realizing that she sounded nearly hysterical. This was silly because Alex was her husband and they needed to be able to talk about these things. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about,” she gulped, “birth control. But I’m sure I’m not…” She couldn’t even say it. “I haven’t ever had a regular cycle and, last year, after the plague, I haven’t had one at all.”