Bermuda Heat (13 page)

“You go on ahead,” Daryl said. “I’ll catch up with you later.

Pa’s expecting you. Just tell him I got delayed. I’ll catch a bus later.” The look he flashed Imani’s way was not the least bit coy.

“Maybe I can’t get someone to drop me off in Hamilton.”

Reluctantly the three of them climbed onto two scooters and raced out of the driveway in the same direction as Jay.

Imani made a rude noise. Her look was apologetic. “My brother can be such a stubborn fool sometimes.”

Daryl patted her arm. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a kid.”

“He’s older than you.” But Imani was laughing now. “But you’re right, he acts like a little brat sometimes.”

“He’s always been that way,” Joel said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” David held up his hand when Joel started to speak again. “Don’t apologize.”

“We run into that all the time,” Chris said.

Chris and David sat back down while Joel got drinks for everyone. Daryl pulled up a lawn chair beside David.

“You’re from L.A.? That must be cool. I watch all the TV cop shows.” He grinned, displaying beautiful, white teeth. “You have the right to remain silent.” He laughed. “You really say that? Bet it’d be easier if you could just bust a few heads open.”

“Start doing that and the wrong people end up in jail,” David said. Daryl shrugged, unperturbed by David’s unspoken censure.

Joel returned with their drinks.

“We really can’t stay long,” David said.

Joel swirled his rum swizzle and looked down at the clinking ice. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to find you sooner, David,” he said. “I let my pride keep me from my son. What kind of man does that?”

98 P.A. Brown

“You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself,” Daryl said. “I’m sure David understands.”

You don’t know David
, Chris almost said. But David wasn’t talking, so he kept his own mouth shut. Chris thought of David’s mother. Wondering what she would think of this little gathering.

Probably be horrified. The thought cheered him.

“My biggest regret—” Joel started. When Daryl opened his mouth to speak, Joel held up his hand. “No, let me speak. My biggest regret is leaving your mother alone when I should have been there for her. And for you.”

“My mother wanted it that way,” David said. “And I know my mother. When she wants something she tends to get it.”

“You should not disparage her.”

“I know, I know,” David said. “She tried.”

Bull
was Chris’s only thought. But he kept the sentiment to himself. No reason to keep stirring that pot.

“Do you really have to go?” Imani asked when they had finished their drinks and refused another one. “I could make supper, cassava pie, Portuguese red bean soup and codfish with bananas. I’ll bet you don’t get anything like that in Los Angeles.

Daryl, you could stay, too.”

Was it his imagination, or did Joel frown over Imani’s invitation? Chris studied Daryl. He could see why a father might be uneasy about his young daughter’s obvious interest in a good-looking, but older man. Men always seemed to have a hard time dealing with potential lovers for their daughters.

The moment passed. It wasn’t exactly something Chris could ask about.

David shook his head. “Tempting, but we really have to leave.”

Joel called a cab and they waited outside for it, sipping a beer that Imani brought out for them. Daryl stood close to Imani and it was obvious to Chris that Joel really wasn’t impressed.

The kiskadee, or one like it, screamed at them from the BeRMudA heAt
99

scented plumeria tree. A small green gecko ran up one of the butter yellow walls while several bees hummed around various blossoms.

The taxi van pulled into the drive. Chris glanced at his watch as they climbed into the backseat. “You sure you don’t want to stay here? It’s early.”

“I think I need some time to take in everything that’s happened.”

Chris nodded. “Fair enough. You want to go into town then? Do some sightseeing? Since we’re at this end of the island anyway.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Not done spending?”

“I only want to look.”

“Yeah, right.” David sighed. “Why not? Let’s play tourist.”

He gave the cabbie their new destination. A radio played in the background. “Tropical storm Fay has shifted position in the Atlantic and predictions are that it may hit Bermuda sometime late Friday afternoon, Saturday at the latest. We’ll keep you posted with up-to-date storm tracking throughout the rest of the week.”

“Hurricane?” Chris met the cabbie’s gaze in the mirror. “You get a lot of hurricanes?”

“Not many, man.” The cabbie shrugged. “Florence came through in ’06, it busted up some power lines. In 2003 Fabian hit us hard. Lot of damage that time.”

“Not like Katrina though, right?”

“Nothing like Katrina, but our homes be built tough. Not much can tear down a Bermuda house. Break the windows, yeah, and bring all the fine palm trees down, but no Katrina. But that one, in ’03, that was bad. Two police officers swept off the Causeway. Terrible thing.”

“What happens during a hurricane?”

“Now they shut the Causeway and the airport, no getting on or off island. Buses don’t run. Most businesses close, too.

100 P.A. Brown

Sometimes we lose power. Most power lines be above ground since the whole rock’s built on limestone. The buildings be safe, but you don’t want to catch it outside. Winds like crazy. Blow you away like you a scrap of paper.”

Having never been in a hurricane, Chris could only imagine.

The cab dropped them off on Front Street, across from the cruise ships’ dock. Two hulking cruise ships were in port, their massive white super structures looming over a street that thronged with tourists. Chris spotted a rock climbing wall on the back of the
Norwegian Spirit
. A muscular black man in shorts and a muscle shirt pulled himself up the wall. Chris poked David and they both watched the sweat-slicked man as he reached the top, before sliding back down on the line. When he disappeared behind the upper deck railing Chris sighed.

David laughed. “Come on, stud muffin,” he said softly, so no one would overhear. “Show’s over.”

Chris realized they were being stared at. It was as though everyone on the street could read their thoughts and were disgusted with them. Chris dug his fists into his hip pockets, ignoring the urge to take David’s hand. He could just imagine the horrified reaction such a simple, harmless act would generate.

They strolled along Front Street, peering in at Versace and Louis Vuitton bags, Rolex watches and Hermes scarves. Chris made a concerted effort to refrain from his usual exuberance.

And he hated it. He wasn’t used to hiding who he was, he hadn’t in years, but he knew David would be mortified if they were exposed and people started staring at them like zoo animals.

Chris wouldn’t do anything to embarrass David, so he squelched the desire to stand up and shout at the knowing looks that yes, they were gay, yes they were married. It wouldn’t impress anybody, least of all David.

Instead he concentrated on people watching. There was an unending variety. Staid businessmen looking a bit less serious than their American counterparts in their Bermuda shorts and dark knee socks. American tourists loaded down with cameras BeRMudA heAt
101

and tote bags stuffed with useless trinkets to prove they’d actually been somewhere. Even a few teens who seemed to Chris to be a lot less rowdy than their Stateside cousins roamed the sidewalks in packs. But not packs looking for trouble, it seemed.

They walked down Front Street. Night descended; the cruise ships lit up like over-decorated Vegas Christmas trees.

They stopped in a place called Flanagan’s where David had a Guinness Stout, while Chris sampled what the server promised was the world’s best White Russian.

Once the waiter had delivered their drinks, they settled back in their seats. Chris swirled the white Russian around, hearing the soft clink of ice cubes.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“What is?” David asked. “Finding out the man I thought was dead is very much alive? I still can’t wrap my head around it. I thought my life was pretty straightforward. I had a family when I was growing up, not the best family; there were no Beaver Cleaver moments, but Da—Graham was good to me. Now I find out it’s all a lie.”

“Not all,” Chris said. “Graham was still a good father. At least he tried.”

“Unlike my mother, who must have thought she had a doppelganger on her hands. All her lies couldn’t make me the son she wanted. I wonder if she blamed my father for the way I turned out. She’d like to blame someone, that much I know.”

David was looking over the railing at the scene below, and Chris could see how hard he was working to affect a calm demeanor.

“I don’t like this place,” Chris blurted. “I thought it would be a lark, but we were doing so good, now it’s like we’re being forced back in the closet.”

Chris could tell David wanted to offer assurances, but the fact that he wouldn’t touch Chris said it all. He sighed. Some things never changed.

102 P.A. Brown

It was late when they caught a cab and returned to Aunt Nea’s. Chris put on his silk pajamas and headed for the deck overlooking Ordnance Island. He carried his laptop with him.

David followed him outside and handed him a glass of wine.

He stood next to Chris, their hips touching. Chris set the laptop down on a glass-topped table and leaned on the railing, looking sideways at David.

David reached for Chris’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Maybe I can’t always show it, but I do love you. That’s never going to change.”

“No?” Chris whispered. “Sometimes I think you’re ashamed to be seen with me. Without me around no one would know, and I can’t hide what I am—”

“Don’t ever say that.” David grabbed Chris’s shoulders and pulled him around, staring down into his upturned face. “I could never be ashamed of you. I love you.”

He brushed his lips over Chris’s. “This is all just temporary.

Remember, it’s only a holiday. We won’t be here forever.”

The phone rang. David broke away and headed inside. Chris sat down and opened his laptop. He quickly downloaded his email and began scanning the headers. There were a couple from Becky, detailing what she had done to date. He emailed her back telling her what they had experienced so far. He even told her about the table, though he didn’t say how much he paid for it.

Like David, she thought he was too profligate.

Chris heard David greet the caller.

“Joel. No, I wasn’t sleeping. What’s up?”

Chris finished with his email and shut down the laptop. He took his wine and laptop and passed David on the way to the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later David entered the room. But instead of getting ready for bed he leaned over and kissed Chris.

“I have to go out for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?”

David shrugged. “Joel wants to meet with me.”

Monday, 10:20pm, Aunt Nea’s, Nea’s Alley, St. George’s Parish,
Bermuda

David slipped out of the cottage after seeing Chris to bed.

He had been tempted to put Joel off and tell him he’d meet him tomorrow, but in the end he decided to acquiesce and do it tonight. There were still too many questions he had that only Joel could answer. He felt entitled to a few answers. He had the feeling Joel felt the same, but he wouldn’t know until he could talk to him face to face, without the rest of his family and Chris around.

He made his way up the path to King’s Square. Lights from all around the square and Ordnance Island danced on the undulating surface of the harbor. He found Joel standing in front of the historical stocks used to beguile tourists with morbid thoughts of past punishments.

All around him the voices of reveling tourists rose and fell.

He could even hear the clink of glassware from the patios of the nearby restaurants and pubs.

“Let’s walk,” Joel said, and led them away from the square and out of town. David could tell Joel was still upset by his sons’

outbursts and was ignoring David’s reassurances. David was having his own problems with assimilating everything that had happened in the last week. He wasn’t up to handling someone else’s issues.

They strolled off the main road onto what Joel said was called Convict Bay Lane. At least a dozen fishing boats were docked at a small wharf. David went out to stand on the edge of the wooden pier. The hiss of moving water whispered along the pylons below his feet. He heard a bike, the lightweight sewing-machine engine sound, coming down nearby Cut Road, fading away as it passed.

104 P.A. Brown

Somewhere a night bird called and tree frogs sang. Across the bay the lights of another town glowed softly. Blinking red lights in the water marked a path of buoys.

He glanced at the glowing dial of his watch. Almost ten-thirty.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Joel said.

David nodded. Under the nearby lights Joel looked pale and haggard. He turned to face Convict Bay.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he said. “Perhaps I should have left well enough alone. If you had gone on thinking me dead, you would never have wondered what might have been.”

It was too much like an echo of what Chris had said earlier.

He hadn’t like it then, and he didn’t like it now. “Don’t, Joel—”

Joel ignored him. “I was unfair to your mother, and I’ve been unfair to you. That is something I will never forgive myself for.”

“I don’t regret any of it,” David said, hoping he could convince the man. “I used to fantasize that you were alive—what adopted kid doesn’t, right? That it was all an accident that I was left alone.”

David leaned on the dock railing and watched the restless water lap at the base of the wharf. Several of the docked boats rocked in the gentle waves. Light from the nearby King’s Square danced on the restless water. Joel came to stand beside him.

“I wanted you to be somewhere,” David said. “That it wasn’t true I was fatherless. I know you still love my mother, and I’ll be honest, I don’t understand why, but I think I know you’re a good man. I’m not sorry you found me. You have to believe me.”