Give me a bathing suit, a hammock that skimmed the water, a banana leaf to shade me, a straw hat to protect my eyes from the glare, a good book, and I was content to wallow where no sharks could get me.
Well, I was almost content.
Resting the open book against my bare stomach, I sighed. Perhaps I should’ve brought music, but then again, it was comforting to hear Brando swishing around every so often. He swam around Mystical Island’s coral reef, taking pictures with the underwater camera. Not long before, he had found a sea turtle and brought me the camera as proof. It was gorgeous, and as welcome as the spinner dolphin at the underwater hotel. He tried to tempt me back in then, but I refused, claiming that I wanted to read.
He didn’t buy it, but he didn’t push.
I hadn’t had time to think since our loss. Some of the thoughts that came along were unwelcome, bringing with them dark clouds that seemed to cover the bright light, but others were more bearable, and I found that those were the ones that I gravitated to.
I knew healing would never fully come, not with what was lost, but I also knew that we could grow together. I had learned to live with the absence my brother left in my life, and my life had grown in such a way that he was still a part of it, though he was gone. Still, the enormity of what we lost wasn’t going anywhere, and when I needed to revisit, I would, but at the moment, there seemed to be a dozen or more other issues pressing in on me.
Issues that I was capable of dealing with.
The freedom to quit ballet had never been offered to me. Of course, I could’ve done it on my own, but I had too many people pulling for me. It was so ingrained in me that, between its call and the guilt of letting down those who wanted me to succeed the most, it became an imperious part of my life.
Now?
Brando’s blessing to do whatever it was that made me happy rang like a church bell at noon—I was free. But with freedom came a deluge of other worries. I wasn’t sure if I could let dance go, or if I wanted to. It had become a constant companion—sometimes too demanding when I needed it not to be, other times, a gentle, welcome distraction. Sometimes, I realized, it was both at once. Then there was his job…the fact that he would be home for longer than two weeks at a time gave me a thrill of anticipation. But that thought led me to Ettore and Nemours.
Ettore wouldn’t go back to Italy, not with the sword hanging over his head, but what if Brando didn’t go back home to Natchitoches? Would he find another way?
Nemours? What did he expect of me? I could never dance for him again. The thought of him selling my contract suddenly felt like balm to an ache. I couldn’t be trusted to be in the same room with him. I glanced to my right. Brando slid under the water, as quiet as a sneaky shark.
We didn’t need three wars. If Brando reacted without his uncle’s approval, that’s exactly what we were going to find ourselves in. Lothario made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want a war with Nemours and his “associations.” If he did, as predicted, it would be on histerms. I had no idea what Lothario was going to do in the face of what had happened. If he would start a war on our son’s behalf, order Nemours to be killed, or, demand a sit-down with the French. If he didn’t act, I knew it was only time before Brando did—with or without Lothario’s approval.
Italy felt like a hotbed to me, full of uncertainty and foreboding disaster. Staying in Fiji, hiding on the island under the captain’s lucky thumb, seemed like a peaceful escape from the madness, but it was just a fantasy. One I knew Brando would never entertain. Our family was in the middle of a war zone. And even if he tried to send me away, he would never leave them to fight without him.
The thought clenched my heart, stopping it for a second, and then my blood ran cold. Anxiety flowed over me like a surging wave. I started to get clammy.
“I could hear you thinking from under the water.”
“AH!” I almost fell off the hammock, I started so hard. I grappled with the book before it fell to ruins. Brando was the only force between the water and me. He held the netting in his hand, steadying it.
“Where did you come from?” I said, one hand on my hat, the other clutching the book to my chest.
“Baby,” he said, lifting his arms. “I’ve been standing here for the longest time, right next to you. I even called your name.”
“Oh,” I said. “I must’ve been preoccupied.”
He nodded but didn’t comment. One of his hands dropped to the water, and then he slid a wet finger up my leg, to my thigh, the turquoise bikini absorbing some of the ocean. In the wake of his touch and the cool droplets, goosebumps puckered my skin.
“You’re too hot. You need to cool down in the water for a while.”
I shook my head, trying to get comfortable again. “Perhaps later. I’m going to keep reading.”
A noise came from his mouth that made it clear he highly doubted it. Then he snatched the book from me so fast that I thought a surge of wind had taken it and carried it offshore.
“Brando! Give it back!”
He smirked, taunting. He used his finger in place of a bookmark, turning the book over, reading the cover. “Pirate’s Treasure,” he muttered. “Hmm. Seems like a deep read.” He laughed.
“If you destroy that book, you’ll have Maggie Beautiful to answer to! That’s her favorite!” I went to snatch at it, but he deftly moved, going back to the last page I had read.
In my attempt to get to him, the hammock had enough of the shenanigans and promptly tipped me over into the water, pouring me out. I came up in time to catch my hat from floating off.
“Ooh!” I spluttered, wiping water from my face, setting the hat back on my head. The water wasn’t bottomless here, and sand settled in crevices best left unmentioned.
Brando was laughing, using the book as a magnet to lure me closer.
