The Sea of Aaron (7 page)

Valerie felt a bitter sensation rise in her throat and almost regretted that she had asked him for details. She remembered her days of trauma nursing at the hospital, the tragic, innocent victims, as well as the not-so-innocent.

“And Carolyn Allard knew all this?” she said, her voice stiff, hoarse, recalling chillingly the white van that had been parked in the driveway of the Allard home the day she and Jasmine had gone there. Could Carolyn have been inside, watching?

“She claims she didn't know everything,” Aaron said, moving closer to her. “But she did admit to telling her boyfriend that her grandfather often hid money in books—something about a childhood game he used to play with her in order to get her to read. She claims she just wanted what she felt was rightfully hers, but she had no idea that Bennett would try to murder you. She also found out that he had a teenage girlfriend in Denver and that he was planning to run off and keep the money himself. ”

“Does Carolyn have a criminal record, too?”

“No. But she is a cocaine addict who worked as a short order cook at a local diner to make ends meet. She had recently lost her job. In other words, she desperately needed the money.”

Valerie turned away again and stared back at the water, appalled that the granddaughter of her friend, the educated and elegant Gordon Allard, had been reduced to groveling for drugs and slinging hash at a greasy spoon. She suspected that some of what happened wasn't entirely Carolyn's fault. She had been damaged as a toddler by the head trauma she'd suffered in the car accident that killed her parents.

“I'm sorry if what I've told you is upsetting. Life often is,” Aaron said.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, comforting somehow, saying more than his cynical words implied. This was exactly why he hadn't bothered to tell her, she knew. He had assumed she would react this way. Always assuming, and the worst part was, he was right. But she would not, could not wallow in sorrow over the ails of society.

“I'm okay,” she told him.

He remained standing quietly beside her, and then lightly squeezed her shoulder. “I apologize again for being so presumptuous about your return home. Of course you have the right to stay as long as you want. And…” His voice caught.

She turned to face him, waiting, curious.

“You don't have to stay away from me if you don't want to.”

“I don't want to,” she said softly and kissed him, gently this time.

With minimal coaching from the sidelines, Aaron allowed Valerie to pilot the speedboat back to shore. She seemed to enjoy being at the helm; that was fine because it gave him the opportunity to lie back on the rear seat and watch her.

He still felt her spontaneous kiss sizzling on his lips, smooth, sensual warmth against cool ice, so unique, so unlike any kiss he'd ever experienced before. He wanted her, no question about that; and that wanting, which was really more of a yearning, terrified him. She had no idea what she was doing to his pride, his image of tight self-control, isolation, and emotional detachment.

“We're getting close to shore,” Valerie shouted to him. “Maybe you better take over.”

He sat up straight. “Cut back on the throttle.”

When the engine calmed to a purr, he climbed over the seat and they switched places. He guided the boat into docking position at the pier and cut off the engine. Valerie smiled, an exhilarated almost childlike smile of pure delight. “That was fun.”

“Wait till I teach you how to fly a plane.”

She laughed. “No way. The sky is strictly your territory.”

“You'll enjoy it,” he insisted, balancing nimbly on the bow of the wave-rocked boat as he tied it to the dock. He turned and coughed a few times, spreading the dull ache in his chest, feeling vaguely annoyed that his body wasn't conforming to its usual high standards.

***

Incredible how an intelligent person can be so stupid about his own health,
Valerie thought, taking note of Aaron's coughing spell. She had enjoyed piloting the speedboat, true, but she had an ulterior motive as well. She wanted to give him a brief chance to rest because his sporadic coughing, along with a certain world-weary expression, disturbed her. Still, despite her concerns, the man now dressed in a black oxford shirt, gray khakis, and deck shoes moved as sure-footedly as a gymnast.

He extended a hand to help her out of the boat and she took it. When they were both standing on the pier, she looked at him intently. “Aaron,” she said slowly. “Instead of going right back to the ship, why don't you stay on shore for a while?”

He studied her without blinking.
Gosh, those eyes. Wait a minute
. Had that sounded like a proposition…a call to something more intimate than she was prepared for? Why wouldn't he think that after her overly passionate kiss?

“I'm worried about you,” she said, and then added quickly, “You look a little tired.”

He blinked. “Guess I didn't sleep much last night.”

“You weren't in pain, were you?” She reached up and touched his forehead; he felt ominously warmer than he should have.

“No. No pain.”

Valerie's eyes narrowed. He probably wasn't being completely honest. “You've got a temperature check coming when we're inside.”

He didn't argue with her, and she was grateful for that. Perhaps he thought he'd pushed her buttons enough for one afternoon, and he realized now that she wasn't the type who'd just cave in—definitely not when her bossy nurse side took over.

Back at the inn, Valerie took her medical bag and followed Aaron to his room, which was adjacent to hers. This room was just that, a room and a shower with no amenities and no terrace. The basic surroundings pleased her because they did not convey romantic illusions.

He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. The thermometer revealed what she suspected—a fever. Not extremely high, but 101 couldn't be ignored. She took silent note of his temperature and then performed the stethoscope routine, whereupon she frowned in concern upon realizing that his lungs didn't sound as clear as they had the last time.

“Have you been doing anything else you're not supposed to, besides smoking?” she asked, trying to temper the sarcasm in her tone.

“Yes. I've been having intimate liaisons with every woman over the age of twenty-one in Belize. When I'm not doing that, I can be found hanging out at the bars drinking myself into oblivion and generally partying all night long.”

She didn't want to laugh, but she had to. “Be serious,” she said.

“What makes you think I'm not being serious?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because I know you're not.”

“You think you know me, do you?”

The truth hit her. She really didn't know him at all. All she knew was the image she had built up in her head, along with whatever bone he had tossed at her. She had passionately kissed an attractive stranger and had not only been out on a boat in the middle of the ocean with him, she was now with him in his hotel room. These things alone constituted questionable behavior for any woman who considered herself a serious Christian—a serious Christian who didn't wish to compromise herself. But somehow, their strong physical attraction notwithstanding, she inwardly knew and trusted that Aaron wouldn't take advantage of her vulnerability.

She pulled up a chair and sat facing him. “You're right. All I know about you is what you've chosen to reveal. But none of that matters because right now I'm concerned as a nurse. I did see a clinic here on Caye Caulker, and I believe you should pay a visit to it today.”

“Why?”

“Because adults don't run fevers for no reason. You probably could use another round of antibiotics. I'm assuming that you stopped taking your prescription way too soon.”

His silence told her she had assumed right. Like a lot of patients, he had stopped taking all of his medication the moment he'd felt better.

“All right, I'll go,” he agreed. “But later. I'd like to sleep first.”

“Sure. You have exactly two hours. If you give me your key, I'll come back and wake you.”

He merely shrugged, surrendered the key, and stretched out on the bed. Once again he had allowed her to issue a command without asking permission.

Upon returning to her own room, Valerie silently congratulated herself for resisting the urge to pay too much attention to him. She didn't have long to pat herself on the back, though, because the ringing phone distracted her. Knowing immediately who it was, she picked it up.

“Are you all packed?” Jasmine asked.

Valerie smiled slyly. “I will be in about a week.”

“A week? Hasn't Aaron told you the investigation is over?”

“He did.”
Boy, did he ever,
she thought.

“Valerie.” Impatience radiated in Jasmine's voice. “You're not talking.”

Valerie laughed aloud at her friend's frustration and realized that she was acting as evasive as Aaron, which couldn't be a good thing. “Listen up. You know how I've always been talking about taking a vacation and so far have never gotten around to it?” She didn't wait for Jasmine to comment. “It's actually beautiful here in Belize, and since I haven't seen very much of it, I'd like to spend a little more time here before coming home.”

Jasmine sounded uncertain when she said, “So you're doing the tourist thing?”

“Sort of. But seriously now, don't you remember what my other mission was?”

“You told me the other day that Aaron was fine,” Jasmine said.

“I did, didn't I? Well, today I'm not so sure. He's running a fever and he's got an appointment with a clinic doctor to check it out.”

“Oh.”

“
Oh.
Is that all you have to say, Jas?”

“Of course not. By all means, make sure he's well, but be careful. And now I'm going to really bug you and say what I've always been saying. Don't get too close to him. He's big trouble and then some. Are you rolling your eyes, Val?”

“They're about to fall out of my skull.”

“You'll lose them completely, along with your mind, if you seriously mess with that man. I don't care how handsome or charming he might be. He's got way too much lethal stuff going on.”

Valerie sighed. “I hear you loud and clear, but rest assured, I'm neither naïve nor stupid.”

“Of course you're neither of those things. You're worse. You're in love…or is that lust?”

“That's a total exaggeration. Sure, we both know I've had feelings for him for over two years, but I'm not in over my head.”

“Just about,” Jasmine said. “You want to hear why I think so?”

“No. But I'm sure you're going to tell me.”

“Yes, I am. I know you're in over your head because you haven't asked about your mother yet.”

Valerie almost dropped the phone. Normally her mother would have been the first person to come to her mind. She considered it for a second. “Has my mother asked about me?”

“Well, no…not in words.”

“My point exactly. I'll be back home as soon as I'm sure Aaron is well.”

***

Aaron dreamed he was out on the sea in a small dinghy, unarmed, defenseless, and trying to escape a posse of armed Somalian militia. Fear did not register, only a distinct sadness that his life dangled by a thread and he had never taken the opportunity to savor the aesthetic things, like the dewy mist rising from the mountains, the scent of rain, the songs of birds, the sensual rhythm of a woman's walk, all those things, plus the bitter knowledge that in the end it was always the easiest missions that got you.

He felt old, tired, and resigned. Then the gunfire rang out. Strange, a whole fusillade of bullets hit him and he didn't feel a thing, until out of nowhere materialized a doe-eyed young woman, barely an adult, with satiny smooth skin and silky black hair, who lay in his arms bleeding all over him. As he worked feverishly to stop the flow of blood, he realized he couldn't, because there were too many holes. He tried to comfort her, to console her, even though he didn't know how—even though he knew she was already gone. His eyes were swollen with something akin to tears, tears he could never release because once the floodgates were open he'd never be able to contain the raging sea.

Stillness took over, the waves ceased to rock and his stream of consciousness went black.

“Aaron, can you hear me? Wake up. Aaron, are you okay?”

The voice, taut with emotion, didn't register. Through half-opened eyes, he saw white light and blinked several times before hazily realizing that he was face-down on a bed and the plushy rectangular object blocking his vision and nearly suffocating him was a pillow. What he couldn't quite comprehend was the human touch, the undeniably feminine hands stroking his back—the warmth of her fingers radiating through the cotton material of his shirt. The touch was way too gentle to attribute to a stranger, and at the same time too wonderfully different to be the result of any fleeting intimate liaison. Where was he? What was she doing? And why did he want to wake up?

“Aaron, come on, honey. Open your eyes. The clinic. Remember? Before it closes.”

Honey?
And with that, he turned around so abruptly that Valerie didn't have a chance to remove her hands, which now ended up flat on his bare mid-section, exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. As her face came beautifully into focus with its darkly shimmering almond eyes and softly curved cherry lips, a feeling of disorientation and surprising vulnerability overtook him. He reached up and before he was even completely aware of his own actions, he pulled her down on top of him and proceeded to cover her face with feverish, passionate kisses.

“Take it easy, baby. It's okay. It's okay,” she whispered, not resisting, not struggling to get free, but merely accepting his condition.

When he realized what he was doing, Aaron released her awkwardly. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“Shhh. It's okay.” She traced her finger lightly over his mouth before she carefully rolled off him and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Has it been two hours already?” he asked hoarsely, attempting to recover his dignity, but his voice sounded foreign even to his own ears.

“Three, actually.” He heard her exhale a sigh of relief as her hand rose to touch his forehead. “You feel cooler. The rest probably helped. Can't imagine how you could sleep facedown like that, though. Wasn't it uncomfortable?”

“Not really.” He certainly didn't want to replay the death of the innocent girl again—a dream that hadn't recurred for years until now, but he longed to resume the sprawled-out, facedown position just so he could feel her hands stroking his back once more. “Maybe we can forget about the clinic,” he said.

“Sorry.” Her voice was firm. “You're not off the hook.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I knew you would say that.”

“I'm glad I didn't disappoint you.”

It bothered him that she had been able to enter the room without his hearing her and awakening immediately. That had never happened to him before, because his deeply ingrained sense of awareness was normally so acute that he could hear even the quietest of footsteps outside the door.

Mercifully she didn't fixate on his perceived lapse into weakness, but she stepped back and gave him privacy while he vanished into the bathroom to freshen up. When he was ready, they walked to the clinic, which was only a block away. Dusk was starting to settle and the sun, a molten orange ball, hung low in the sky.

***

The clinic doctor ordered a chest X-ray and blood work performed. The results wouldn't be known until the next day, but the doctor said he would consult with Aaron's physician in New York, which satisfied Valerie because she knew everything was being done correctly. Aaron was prescribed antibiotics as a precautionary measure and reminded repeatedly that he had to continue with them until he was told to stop.

Afterward, they had dinner at a low-key restaurant specializing in Italian food.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Aaron asked, making direct eye contact.

“Hmm. Not sure, but you are going to do absolutely nothing but chill out and relax.”

Aaron's expression did not change. “What are you going to be doing?” he asked again.