“What?” I said quietly. Without my chattering and his laughter, the area suddenly seemed sacred.
He lifted his arms, a helpless gesture, and then sighed. “You didn’t have much fun when you came here, did you?”
It took me a moment to catch his meaning. My face flushed with blood hotter than the sun. I turned my back on him, shoving the map back in my bag, glad that I wasn’t walking around naked like him. No one,and I mean no one, could pull off being madandnaked except for the Faustis.
“I had fun,” I snapped, low voiced. “Just because I didn’t go out and—” I made that awful hand motion he did when he had described what he had done to the blonde’s silicon breasts in Fiji when he came with Elliott “—doesn’t mean that I didn’t have a good time. I learned a lot!”
“I know you did, baby.” I heard the crunch of leaves and sand under his feet as he came closer to me. He put his large hands on my hips, kissing me on each shoulder. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I picked at the bark of a shading tree and shrugged at his words. We stood that way for a while, until I sighed. “You’re right.” I sniffed, though I wasn’t crying. “I was allowed to go on the tour with everyone else, but the rest of my time was spent—”
“Dancing,” he answered before I could.
“Yes,” I whispered. “My mother had one of the cabins turned into a dance studio. I had to practice. All of my teachers came with me.”
“And I did the same thing to you,” he said with such vehemence toward himself that I turned to see his face. His mouth was hard and his eyes held deep regret.
“No. You’ve never—”
“I did. I built the studio in our house on Snow and at the villa in Italy. I didn’t even bother to ask you if that’s what you wanted.”
“It is what I want. You’ve never—” I took a breath of fresh air and then exhaled. “You’ve nevermademe do it, Brando. If anything, you’ve inspired me to keep doing it. Your eyes still move me. I’m addicted to it.”
This didn’t convince him. He said something almost unintelligible under his breath, it sounded likethings are going to change, and then took my hand in his—strong and secure.
“Tell me more about the red-footed booby,” he said, as we walked further into the fathomless mysteries of the island.
* * *
We trekked for an hour, talking about all of the things along our hike that we found interesting—pointing out banana plants and trying to tell the difference between those and plantains. Pineapples popped up every so often, waiting to be picked. Brando grinned when I did just that, stuffing the ripe fruit into my bag. It smelled like golden heaven.
“Just like a little old Italian lady,” he said.
He laughed when we came across a sign tacked to a tree that warned:Caution: Falling Coconuts.I picked up one of those too, and informed him that the younger ones, which the locals callbu(boo), were sweeter, more tender, and filled with milk.
I wasn’t sure if we had abu, but I figured with the amount to choose from, chances were pretty good that we would get one before we left. They littered the ground like brown and green soccer balls. Plus—I shook the thing—itswooshedwith liquid.
He just liked to hear me saybu.
When it got to the point that I thought he made me sweat for the fun of it, I heard it—the soft rushing of water from a height. I smelled it in the air too, ozone mixed with H2O—the smell of green things that take on everlasting life when the humidity is high and they are constantly basking in the glow of sun, drunk off the water-permeated air.
The trail widened and the land opened up, encircling the waterfall with a garden that could only be described as a slice of Eden. Red flowers grew wild, and a rainbow arched over the entire area, a Technicolor mirage. A butterfly with wings of gold fluttered across the open landscape like a piece of shattered sunburst. Clear water sluiced down the rock, turning its trail almost black, feeding a pool that rippled out, the water sapphire shading to mossy green.
Someone had finagled a sturdy-looking vine to a canopy tree, or perhaps it had grown that way, but it was set in the right position to swing from and then drop down in the deepest part of the pool.
Brando eyed it with want.
He mentioned having a picnic after we bathed—the man assigned to ourburewas supposed to deliver it before we arrived—but I didn’t see anything. I mentally patted myself on the back for snatching the pineapple. The coconut was too hard for Brando’s knife to cut through. We should’ve brought the coconut crab along.
Brando pointed to the waterfall. “That’s where our lunch is.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to see past the thick stream of water rushing from the top of the cliff.
“There’s an alcove behind the waterfall,” he said.
After he had pointed it out, it became clear. There was an inconspicuous dent in the rock hidden by the falls.
Brando gave me his hand as we navigated the rocks, slick with fresh water and the slimy ghost of stagnate plants and natural grime. My lungs seemed to rejoice in the freshness of the air.
