God didn’t answer so he took the silence for a no. So when the water hit the rocks Kingsley jumped feet first. It seemed he hovered in midair a moment. The way down passed in a second and lasted an eternity. In the final second before he hit the water, he thought of all that he’d done and all that he wanted in his life. Everything he’d wanted to do he’d done but for two final things on his to-do list. He wanted to save Juliette, and he wanted to have children. And if he survived this foolish leap to his imminent death he would do both.
He hit the water with so much force he went blind and deaf. He couldn’t see the way to the surface, couldn’t hear the sound of the surf. Up and down became meaningless. Life waited in one direction. Death in the other. But which?
He felt a hand on his hair, a tug on his arm. He went where he was pulled and surfaced with a gasp of breath. The rocks were fifty yards away. Juliette was right there. Smiling. Laughing. Alive. Both of them. Alive and beautiful.
“It’s this way,” she called out over the rolling waves. She kicked off and he followed her. She might have been guiding him to Hell—he didn’t care. Where she went he would follow. If she was there, it was Paradise no matter the destination.
After a few minutes of fighting the choppy surf, they entered calmer darker waters. Kingsley spied Juliette’s destination—a large basalt rock formation a hundred yards out. She swam toward it with graceful powerful strokes of her arms and kicks of her long legs. Kingsley went underwater and kicked his way to her. They reached the rocks at the same time and carefully climbed up the tallest of the boulders.
“What is this place?” Kingsley asked as he sat to her right and raised a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun.
“Playground,” she said.
“Playground?”
“Watch.”
Silently she peered out over the dancing waves. Kingsley followed her gaze. It was beautiful here with the sound of the surf filling the air and the call of the seabirds and the sun skipping over the waves.
“There,” she said, pointing. “Do you see?”
Kingsley looked and laughed. Two dolphins breached the surface of the water and shot steam into the air. Ten yards away, three more dolphins came up for air. They glided along the surface with incredible power—their sleek bodies pure muscle and energy.
“You never see that in Manhattan, do you?” Juliette asked.
“No,” Kingsley breathed. “If there are dolphins in the Hudson River, I’ve never seen them.”
For a long time they didn’t speak, only watched the dolphins play. Was it play, though? They surfaced to breathe, swam fast to hunt, frolicked to learn how to fight. It was life to them—life and death. Not a game at all. And Kingsley wondered if something was out there, something greater than himself, greater than Juliette, perched in the distance and watching him and watching her, sitting together on this rock, making love in his bed, watching the pain he gave her, the worship she gave him, and smiling at what looked like play, what looked like a game. But it wasn’t a game to him and Juliette. It was their lives.
“You could stay,” Juliette said at last. “Here in Haiti.”
“I could stay,” he repeated. “And why would I do that?”
“For them.” She pointed at the pod of dolphins that had moved in closer to the rocks. One of the larger ones swam right in front of them, his dorsal fin pockmarked with old battle scars. Kingsley could sympathize.
“For the dolphins? A good reason. Anything else?”
“Maybe for the food?”
“There is a very good Haitian restaurant in Manhattan.”
Juliette laughed. “Then maybe stay for me?”
“You belong to someone else,” he said. “And it sounds like he wouldn’t be interested in sharing.”
“He wouldn’t have to know. I could come to you at night after he’s asleep. I could try.”
She wasn’t looking at him now, only at the water and the waves and the ever-shifting sunlight.
“How long could you do that before he found out?” Kingsley asked turning to look at her. Water ran down her face. Ocean water from her hair? Tears? Both? “And what would happen when he caught us?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but it wouldn’t be good.”
“Let me help you,” Kingsley said. “Please.”
“You can’t buy me,” she said, blinking hard. “I’ve already been bought. I’m not for sale.”
Her words hurt more than any weapon used against him ever had. They hurt not because they were false, but because they were true. He did want to buy her. He wanted to own her. And she wanted nothing but her freedom, the one thing he couldn’t give her.
“There has to be a way. Let me help you.”
“Just kiss me,” she said. “That’s how you can help me.”
Kingsley kissed her. She tasted like the ocean and the ocean tasted like tears. He cupped the back of her neck and held her steady, held her against his mouth as he kissed her harder and deeper.
“I’ve never...” she began and stopped.
“Never what?” Kingsley asked.
“I’ve never brought him here. I’ve never brought anyone here. This is my secret place.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“Because you are my other secret place now.” She rested her hand on his bare chest over his heart.
He hit the water with so much force he went blind and deaf. He couldn’t see the way to the surface, couldn’t hear the sound of the surf. Up and down became meaningless. Life waited in one direction. Death in the other. But which?
He felt a hand on his hair, a tug on his arm. He went where he was pulled and surfaced with a gasp of breath. The rocks were fifty yards away. Juliette was right there. Smiling. Laughing. Alive. Both of them. Alive and beautiful.
“It’s this way,” she called out over the rolling waves. She kicked off and he followed her. She might have been guiding him to Hell—he didn’t care. Where she went he would follow. If she was there, it was Paradise no matter the destination.
After a few minutes of fighting the choppy surf, they entered calmer darker waters. Kingsley spied Juliette’s destination—a large basalt rock formation a hundred yards out. She swam toward it with graceful powerful strokes of her arms and kicks of her long legs. Kingsley went underwater and kicked his way to her. They reached the rocks at the same time and carefully climbed up the tallest of the boulders.
“What is this place?” Kingsley asked as he sat to her right and raised a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun.
“Playground,” she said.
“Playground?”
“Watch.”
Silently she peered out over the dancing waves. Kingsley followed her gaze. It was beautiful here with the sound of the surf filling the air and the call of the seabirds and the sun skipping over the waves.
“There,” she said, pointing. “Do you see?”
Kingsley looked and laughed. Two dolphins breached the surface of the water and shot steam into the air. Ten yards away, three more dolphins came up for air. They glided along the surface with incredible power—their sleek bodies pure muscle and energy.
“You never see that in Manhattan, do you?” Juliette asked.
“No,” Kingsley breathed. “If there are dolphins in the Hudson River, I’ve never seen them.”
For a long time they didn’t speak, only watched the dolphins play. Was it play, though? They surfaced to breathe, swam fast to hunt, frolicked to learn how to fight. It was life to them—life and death. Not a game at all. And Kingsley wondered if something was out there, something greater than himself, greater than Juliette, perched in the distance and watching him and watching her, sitting together on this rock, making love in his bed, watching the pain he gave her, the worship she gave him, and smiling at what looked like play, what looked like a game. But it wasn’t a game to him and Juliette. It was their lives.
“You could stay,” Juliette said at last. “Here in Haiti.”
“I could stay,” he repeated. “And why would I do that?”
“For them.” She pointed at the pod of dolphins that had moved in closer to the rocks. One of the larger ones swam right in front of them, his dorsal fin pockmarked with old battle scars. Kingsley could sympathize.
“For the dolphins? A good reason. Anything else?”
“Maybe for the food?”
“There is a very good Haitian restaurant in Manhattan.”
Juliette laughed. “Then maybe stay for me?”
“You belong to someone else,” he said. “And it sounds like he wouldn’t be interested in sharing.”
“He wouldn’t have to know. I could come to you at night after he’s asleep. I could try.”
She wasn’t looking at him now, only at the water and the waves and the ever-shifting sunlight.
“How long could you do that before he found out?” Kingsley asked turning to look at her. Water ran down her face. Ocean water from her hair? Tears? Both? “And what would happen when he caught us?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but it wouldn’t be good.”
“Let me help you,” Kingsley said. “Please.”
“You can’t buy me,” she said, blinking hard. “I’ve already been bought. I’m not for sale.”
Her words hurt more than any weapon used against him ever had. They hurt not because they were false, but because they were true. He did want to buy her. He wanted to own her. And she wanted nothing but her freedom, the one thing he couldn’t give her.
“There has to be a way. Let me help you.”
“Just kiss me,” she said. “That’s how you can help me.”
Kingsley kissed her. She tasted like the ocean and the ocean tasted like tears. He cupped the back of her neck and held her steady, held her against his mouth as he kissed her harder and deeper.
“I’ve never...” she began and stopped.
“Never what?” Kingsley asked.
“I’ve never brought him here. I’ve never brought anyone here. This is my secret place.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“Because you are my other secret place now.” She rested her hand on his bare chest over his heart.
