No surprise.
My mother was electromagnetic. Even the quietest people gravitated toward her.
When the clock struck midnight, a rainbow of fireworks exploded over the sea. I spied Hugo as he gave my mother a kiss on the cheek. Beckett wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “Happy New Year.” My bracelet glistened in the neon lights and I leaned in and met his soft, pursed lips with my own. We kissed beneath a sky filled with rockets and sparklers, and for a moment, everything was…
Magic.
Just like Mom said.
Chapter 24
It was time.
I was so excited, I could barely hold myself together. I packed my bag, because realistically, I had booked the bungalow at the Aruba Ocean Villas for more time than I’d actually be staying on the island, so it didn’t make sense to hold on to my room at the Marriott. I checked out in the early afternoon, explaining hastily to the sweet lady at the reception desk that I had this whole elaborate plan for the night. She smiled at me and told me I could still have complimentary use of the facility for the remainder of my time in Aruba, since I’d paid for it anyway. She also was willing to hold a change of clothing for me in the back room behind the desk so that later I could surprise Harmony by being dressed for dinner upon our meetup in the lobby at 5:00. The lady at the front desk called me a taxi, and I was driven twenty minutes down the road to Savaneta, Aruba’s old capital city. The area was significantly less touristy: mostly empty, desert-like space with the occasional stray dog milling about. It wasn’t scary or concerning, just felt a little more real than my experience of Aruba had been thus far.
But that all changed once I arrived at the Aruba Ocean Villas. It was an enclave set back from the road. I was treated like royalty from the moment I stepped through the door. A woman named Goldie handed me a map, an old-fashioned key on a key ring, and a small basket containing a small, cast-iron dish, a bread roll, a packet of raw sugar, a sachet of frankincense, and a box of matches. “It’s customary, on New Year’s Day, to burn incense in your living space,” Goldie explained. “Also, you must burn the bread and sugar.”
“Really?”
“Yes, absolutely. They are symbolic. This will ensure that you will always have bread on your table and a sweet, loving relationship in your life.”
“Oh. Well, okay then. It’s just, this is the first time I’ve ever been to a hotel that encourages you to set fires inside the room.” I laughed.
“You only need to burn a little of the bread and sugar, not the entire thing. And there is plenty of accessible water to put it out after. It is very important to us that our guests experience all the luck and prosperity our island has to offer.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
We confirmed my 5:30 reservation at The Old Man and the Sea. “Just so you know,” Goldie said, “we all think this is incredibly romantic.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Me and the staff. There are many wedding engagements in our private dining at the restaurant, but this is extra sweet because you are only at the very beginning.”
“I hope she agrees with you,” I replied, shrugging.
“She will. Believe me,” she said. “I wish you both the very best for a memorable time.”
“Thank you.” I picked up my bag and followed the directions to my bungalow. The thatched hut sat in the carefully combed sand. It was built of wood and glass and had a small sitting area out front with magenta cushions. Lush, tropical foliage surrounded the sides of the squat structure, and the door, a solid, carved teakwood piece of art in and of itself, was flanked by two climbing arrangements of pink flowers. An oversized, decorative glass lantern sat beside one of them. I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
It was breathtaking.
The hut had a cathedral ceiling of dried palm from which a crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room. Just behind it, a white canopy was strung up over the four-poster bed, which was lined with satin-covered throw pillows in rich shades of green, blue, and pink. A fluffy, beige, thick pile shag area rug lay in front of the king-size bed, and more pillows of silver and gold lined the floor around the base of the bed. The wood walls were stained the color of caramel, and sunlight poured through the windows, spilling lines of light across the furniture. To the right, there was a two-person chaise made of driftwood with lush cushions, and to the left was a massive armoire that was so ornate it looked like it belonged in a museum. A soaking tub for two sat in the corner, and beside it was a set of French doors opening to an indoor/outdoor bath. The toilet was covered, the carved stone sink and vanity were shaded by a bamboo half ceiling, but the shower was open to the elements, the only natural shade provided by the leaves of a nearby palm tree. Greenery flooded the outdoor bathroomspace, and it took my breath away, possibly even more than the main indoor area.
Yes.Thiswas the kind of space that Harmony deserved.Thiswas the kind of memorable venue that our budding relationship deserved.
A bungalow called Joy.
It was just right.
I didn’t have time to revel in her, though, because I had to get back to the Marriott and pretend that we were in for another normal night at the square.
The taxi driver was kind enough to wait for me and take me back there. I rewarded him with a hefty tip. Upon my return, I found Harmony and her mom at the beach on the resort side (as opposed to the private island) and, as was typical for the middle of the afternoon, Harmony’s mom was having a nap.
“Hey, you,” I said in a low voice, kissing Harmony on top of her head.
She leaned her face up and gave me an upside-down kiss in her chair. “Hi,” she whispered, dog-earing her book and setting it in her bag.
“Walk?”
