Telesa - The Covenant Keeper (11 page)

There was a heavy pause, then his words in the dusty velvet night surprised me. “Hey, look, I’m sorry, okay? I come here a lot and I was kinda surprised to find anybody else here. And I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was gentle and soothing like someone trying to hush a skittery colt.

I hated myself for falling apart in front of him. Willing myself to be calm, I shifted into my artificial cheerfulness. Turning to face him again, I smiled brightly and waved a hand casually.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it. I over reacted. It happens. Look, I’ll get out of your way. Thanks for your help in the water. Have a nice swim.” I grabbed my clothes from the ground and started backing away, ignoring his confused expression.
Just smile,
I thought to myself.
Just smile. Go home and cry like a baby there where nobody can see you. Just keep it together a few minutes longer.

My plan would have worked too. If I hadn’t tripped over a clump of ferns behind me, falling down hard on my overly bright and cheerful backside.

“Owwww!” Once again my outraged shriek pierced the night. Sitting in a bruised cluster of bushes, my feet covered in mud, wet hair plastered to sticky sweaty skin, I (not for the first time) cursed my stupidity at coming to this island. I was painfully homesick. Which didn’t make sense because I didn’t have a home. I didn’t belong here. But then, I didn’t belong in D.C either. I was a half-caste disappointment to my grandmother. A disturbing reminder to my aunt of a woman it seemed everyone would rather forget
. Face it Leila – you’re an in-between nothing and nobody wants you around.
Head down on my knees, I gave in to the crushing sobs within. I didn’t care if this stupid boy laughed at me, yelled at me. Or even if he ran a mile. I cried the huge bone-shattering kind of cry that shook to the very core.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Daniel knelt beside me and then after a hesitant moment, huge arms swept me up out of the mud, carrying me the few steps back to the pool. Too upset to stop, even with the shock of being carried, I just kept sobbing and hiccupping, dimly aware of being set down on a smooth rock and of him sitting beside me.

Side by side, shoulders touching, we sat by the glistening waters as I cried. Several months’ worth of anguish rocked my body as I sat hugging my knees. He didn’t try to make me stop or even try to talk me out of it. He just sat there beside me and let me cry. I don’t know how long the storm of emotion ravaged me, but it felt like hours. Finally, the tears slowed and the sobs receded. He handed me something to wipe my tear ravaged face. It was my dirty t-shirt. He gestured to his ripped shorts with a wry smile. “Sorry, I didn’t come equipped to comfort a damsel in distress.”

In that moment, with eyes swollen beyond belief, scratched muddy legs and arms, and with a sodden towel draped around my thin frame – I had never felt closer to another human being. The night sky stretched overhead, swallowing us in its velvet vastness; the forest breathed us in. The tension within slowly seeped away, replaced by a liquid calmness. Looking into smiling eyes, I felt for the first time in a long time – at peace. Home. The moment seemed to last an eternity as we gazed at each other. His smile faded, replaced with a look of quiet regard. His eyes studied me intently, as if trying to stare into my soul. If it had been anywhere else, any other time, I would have flushed red with embarrassment and looked away. But out here, with the rainforest breathing all around us, it seemed perfectly normal to sit and stare into a strange boy’s eyes, feeling the warmth of his tattooed shoulder next to my skin.

As the moment stretched, I became acutely aware of his breathing. The rise and fall of his perfectly contoured chest. The rip of his muscled arms looped casually around his knees. The curve of his hip resting comfortably beside my own. My calmness faded, replaced with something else. A rising flush of heat that started deep within. A rise that boiled and surged, threatening to overwhelm my calm exterior. I had an insane urge to reach out with trembling fingers and trace the pattern of his tattoo, wanting to feel for myself the patterned cut in his skin. How badly had it hurt, I wondered? Had there been much blood? Why had he done it? At the thought of his pain, I felt a twinge. Bemused, I realized why
– it hurt to think of him hurting.
This stranger. This painfully handsome boy, striding strong through the school with confidence and yet, sitting here beside me trying to give me comfort.

As if sensing the shift in my thoughts, he smiled. This time, it sent a jolt of pure electricity through me. The smile crinkled his green eyes and revealed a dimple in his left cheek. He reached tentatively, as if unwilling to break the moment, and brushed a strand of wet hair away from my eyes. His fingers were surprisingly cool on my hot face. I had to bite my lip to stop an answering smile from overwhelming me – trying to downplay the swirling heat of emotions. I was terrified he would sense I was struggling with a serious attack of physical attraction to him. I took a deep breath and smiled weakly, breaking our locked gaze to look at the forest around us.

“You must think I’m such an idiot, crying like that. Whew, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” his eyes were puzzled.

“I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. Thanks for being so cool about it.”

He shrugged his shoulders, moonlight dancing on his biceps as he reached toward me again, this time to casually brush an ant off my leg. This time his touch burned and I had to struggle for control so as not to gasp at his closeness.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve been there.” This time, he didn’t meet my gaze, staring instead into the depths of the pool.

I was curious. I sneaked a look at his chiselled profile and tried to envision him coming to this pool to be alone. To seek solace. To cry? What could do that to him? I had been wrapped up for so long in my own pain, that it had not occurred to me that possibly others could experience such despair. For a brief instant, out of nowhere, an image of my grandmother flashed into my mind. Ramrod straight and still at the graveside, silent tears streaming down her lined cheeks. Her shocked face at my announcement that I was leaving for Samoa.

“
I’m your grandmother’s biggest disappointment Leila, not you.” My dad would say cheerfully, every time we psyched ourselves to go for our ritual weekly visit to her Potomac mansion, and I would complain about grandmother’s endless criticisms. The way I dressed, my grades, my vocabulary, my untameable hair – and my lack of interest in doing anything to tame it. How I hated those visits. The stilted conversations. The unsmiling welcomes and farewells. But always, Dad would joke and laugh. And tease a smile from somewhere out of the old lady. He would regale her with tales of his latest travels, deliberately excluding all the dangerous and grimy bits of his job that she loathed. And grandmother would shake her head. And purse her lips. But her eyes would soften at his touch. And surely that would be the hint of tenderness when she hugged him? Dad was the youngest in a family of corporate lawyers, company directors and a brain surgeon thrown in for good measure. Born in the autumn of his parent’s years and then raised by his mother when his father died of a heart attack shortly after. The golden favorite last child who then decided to go against the Folger grain – refusing to join the family business when he finished at Harvard Law, choosing instead to join the Peace Corps, and then adding insult to injury, bringing home a brown baby for a grandchild! Upon his return to the States with me, my dad had pursued a career that combined his love of photography with his passion for travel and exploring native cultures. He had taken me with him to many of his destinations when I was younger, but then once I reached high school, Grandmother Folger had convinced him of the need for me to ‘be more settled,’ to focus on school so I could get into a college befitting of a Folger. Meaning I had to endure long periods without him. With a housekeeper and a coldly formal grandmother watching over me. Dad, I miss you.

The chitter of a flying fox brought me back to the present. Daniel was staring at me with that same intense regard as if trying to pierce my thoughts.

“Where were you just now?”

“Nowhere. I mean here. Right here. With you.” My words faded to a soft breath as once again he turned the full majesty of that amazing smile on me.

“You were not. You were a thousand miles away. Come on, you can’t possibly think of keeping any secrets from me
now.”
He gestured at the two of us in our muddy state of companionship.

I felt a laugh ripple forth against my will. “Okay, you’re right. I mean, what could the girl who has weapons galore concealed in her underwear possibly have to hide from you?” I joked.

His laugh rang out through the forest night. It was a rich golden sound, resonant of sunny, sandy days. It felt glorious to laugh together. Almost as good as staring into his eyes.

“You’re right, I don’t know if I’m brave enough to find out.” he teased, eyes dancing with laughter.

My only reply was to poke my tongue out mischievously – a favorite tactic when being teased by Dad. Abruptly, my laughter halted at the reminder. It stunned me to realize that this was the first time in months that I had laughed together like this with another person. And that the last time I had poked out my tongue like this had been at my dad. Oh, how I had missed it.

He was so in tune with me now that he pounced on my shift of mood. “See
there
. You’re doing it again. You’re miles away. Something sad has got you wrapped up so tight it won’t let you go!” his tone was triumphant as he leaned forward in his eagerness. He smelled delicious. Earthy, clean, with a hint of coconut and pineapple. “What is it?” He wouldn’t take no for an answer this time.

“Alright. I was thinking of my dad. He died. Eight months ago. He was on assignment in Afghanistan. He had a headache and collapsed. They rushed him home but it was no use. Doctors said he had a brain tumour. Inoperable. He only regained consciousness once before. Before.” I took a deep breath, willing myself to say the words without hurting. “Before he died.” The last words were a rush as I waited for the pain to hit with that gut-kicking blow that would knock the breath out of me. It came. But funnily enough, with Daniel sitting beside me in the night, it didn’t hit as hard as usual. I didn’t realize how tightly my fists were clenched though, how taut my body had gone, until he placed an arm around my shoulders. I felt myself wilting into him.

“Hey. I’m here. Breathe. There you go. Just breathe.” He was calm and assured, eyes soft with concern. I could see an errant eyelash quivering on his cheek as I breathed deeply. His closeness was so distracting that I dropped my eyes from his, only to be confronted by the sight of his lean hard chest tapering into clearly defined abs.

Oops. Definitely not helpful
. I gulped, shutting my eyes to avert the flood of fire that threatened again to overwhelm me.
What the heck is wrong with me? One minute I’m crying – the next I’m hyperventilating over this boy’s naked chest?
I bit my lip to stifle the hysterical giggle that was bubbling to explode. Mistaking my silence for sorrow, he placed a hand under my chin, raising my face to his.

I could scarcely breathe. Our faces were so close, I could almost taste his breath. There was nothing but concern in his eyes.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry I made you talk about it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Mutely, I shook my head. “It’s okay. I haven’t talked about it to anyone. It’s hard. But I want to talk about him as well too – even though it hurts so bad, you know what I mean?” My voice pleaded for understanding.

“Yes. I do.” The confidence in his voice threw me. It was my turn to be puzzled.

“My mother died when I was very young. I never knew her really, so it’s different for me. Talking to family about her makes her come alive for me somehow but still it’s tough because it reminds me how much I miss having her.”

I felt a surge of relief at his words. “Exactly. Nobody loved my dad the way I do, nobody loved me the way he did, so I feel so alone in the way I miss him. I wrap it all up inside – and it’s like choking me, killing me. Tonight, crying like that, it felt awful, but really a relief at the same time.” I halted, afraid that once again I had revealed too much.

“How about your mom? Can’t you talk to her about it?”

“My mother died when I was a baby. I never knew her. That’s one reason I came to Samoa. So I could get to know her family and maybe know her. Some stupid idea that’s turned out to be.” My tone was harsher than I had planned as I thought bitterly about my aunt’s welcome reception at the airport several weeks ago.

He swatted away a buzzing mosquito before replying. “So Samoa isn’t exactly turning out to be what you planned. And your family here? Who are they?”

I smiled. Only on an island with a population less than two hundred thousand people would someone ask such a question and have every intention of knowing who the heck I was talking about when I answered. “My aunty Matile and uncle Tuala – they’re the Sinapati family. We live just round the corner from the stadium, Apia Park.”

He nodded, confirming suspicions. “So, do you have tons of random cousins living with you? Our extended family living must be kind of a shock for a spoilt only child like you.” His teasing grin softened his jibe.

“Hey watch it, I can still take you on you know. Spoilt only children are infamous for their tempers. Actually, they don’t have any children of their own and nobody stays with them but me. There’s always cousins coming over though from next door, round about meal time. Aunty Matile is a major grouch but she’s an amazing cook. Especially when you’re used to living on fast food. Me and Dad, we weren’t much for cooking. But we had the Chinese takeout number on speed dial.”

This time he laughed with me, the sound quickening my heartbeat, giving my pulse a hop, skip, and jump. Did this boy even know how gorgeous he was when he laughed?

“Glad to hear that at least the food is to your liking. And how are you finding SamCo?”