“It is not like the others, nephew. She might sleep some, since she’s traveled and hasn’t had much to eat, but it will not make her sleep like before. It will calm her.”
My breath came in shallow pants, and I wasn’t sure if my heart hid or had started to die—the beats felt too far away, too deep, and I was slipping. I clutched Brando’s shirt in my fists, some kind of safety line to keep me from the high fall.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said softly. “I’m here.” He pulled me closer, making me rest my head against him. “Close your eyes. Breathe.”
“She will be okay,” Uncle Tito said in a calming voice. “Once we get there, she can relax.” He paused. “Shecanrelax, nephew?”
I felt Brando nod, then lean forward, rooting around in his bag, pulling out a swishing bottle of water. The top twisted and cracked. I felt the pill touch my lips and then the bottle. I didn’t drink much. The lump in my throat was a red flag that it might come up.
The small pill didn’t take long to do its job. My heart was still in the shallows, but everything else relaxed and opened up to the beauty of the heat and landscape. This part of the rainforest was decorated with tall stalks of bamboo, coconut palms, and somewhere in the distance, I was sure I smelled Tahitian gardenia. Its scent should be bottled up. It was so alluring and fragrant, almost as welcoming as coconut. Something else. I sniffed harder. The scent of some kind of pine floated in the air.
Brando untied the handkerchief from around his head, using it to dab at the sweat on my face. “Better?”
I nodded, feeling giddy. “Better.”
The vehicle came to a jolting halt, throwing us all forward. We must have crossed the island. We were along the shore again, two wooden piers meeting sand. They stretched for at least two miles out to shore, the same distance running the width between.
The end of the piers opened up, and—I held up a hand to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun—there was nothing beyond. Not that I could see. It seemed like infinite miles of Larimar surf and azure skies.
Our driver assured us that our luggage would be waiting for us in our suites. Another man escorted us along the pier. Brando was concerned about the walk, but I assured him that I was all right. I just needed to take it slow. Aunt Lola agreed with this. Her camera clicked every time she saw a patch of dark coral underneath the clear water. Sheoohdandahhda lot, making me smile. Uncle Tito seemed to be enchanted by her happiness, and he laughed and pointed with her.
“You’re being quiet, Ballerina Girl,” Brando said, keeping my hand firmly in his. His eyes glanced at me every few seconds from beneath his Ray-Bans. “Tell me what’s going on inside of your head.”
“I’m curious.” My voice came out slow, so relaxed. “Where are we sleeping? On the pier? Or do we have to take a boat someplace else? Gah! Much further and we might meet pirates!”
“Arg!” Aunt Lola said, high on the salt air.
“I should’ve known,” Brando said, shaking his head. “You can’t help it. It’s really not your fault. I wouldn’t be surprised if we crossed paths with a pirate and you somehow knew him. Jean Lafitte, no doubt.”
I giggled. Actually giggled. “Wheew!” I said, lifting my dress to the oncoming breeze. The wind swept up, tickling my hot skin with cool relief. My husband gave me a funny look but didn’t comment, only pushed my dress down when I must’ve lifted it too high.
At the end of the pier, which took us twice as long to reach because of Aunt Lola and me, I finally saw what was not visible from the shore: pods submerged below the surface of the water.
Each pier had a large pod attached to its end, like a sun-shaped barnacle, and from each pod stemmed two rows of capsules, eleven to each, but pea shaped. Each capsule could’ve been a submarine, docked and ready to explore. No matter which side, the view frombeneaththe ocean was unobstructed.
“Are we sleeping below the surface?” I said, amazement shining through my tone like the bright sun.
“Yeah,” Brando said, his voice almost guarded. “Tell me what you think.”
“I think—we will be together, below the depths.”
“Now you’re catching on.”
Sadness seized me then. It must have run through me like a current because Brando’s pressure on my hand increased.
An elevator connected to the pier brought us down into another world. The air was cool inside the underwater resort—a shiver ran through me from the contrast—and smelled of all things tropical. None of us said anything for a while, absorbing our surroundings in awe.
We were submerged ninety or so feet down, gazing at a world that was not usually seen from this perspective, unless someone were physically immersed in it. The lagoon from beneath the surface seemed like a scene from theLittle Mermaid. I half expected King Triton to come swimming by, his trident in hand, in search of his red-headed, willful daughter. To complete this scene, a steel drum band played a soft melody somewhere in the submersible.
“Who’s Ariel?” Brando said, momentarily turning his eyes to me.
I hadn’t even realized I’d spoken out loud. “A princess in a Disney movie.”
His eyebrows drew down. “Does she have a beast too?”
I smiled. “No, she’s a mermaid. She falls in love with a human. Gives up her beautiful voice, her home beneath the sea, her place as a princess, so she can have legs to be with him on land.”
“That seems more like us,” he said.
