Tell Me I'm Dreamin' (2 page)

She continued to gaze at the delicate cross. Grandma Rose had polished the necklace to perfection the day before Nadine left. It was her grandmother who had told her the stories about the Caribbean, and she knew, to Grandma Rose, the cross symbolized protection, something her grandmother believed a woman traveling alone would need. Yet Grandma Rose also believed that as long as Nadine kept the Lord in her life she would be safe and she would never be lonely.

Grandma's words were good words, the kind of thinking that had guided her safely through the years. But it was not Grandma's words that had kept her living in a glass house. It was Nadine's zeal for the Apostolic faith. She had adhered to it like there was no tomorrow. Now she was beginning to fear her inflexible views had kept her from living the life of a full-blooded woman. Ring or no ring around her third finger.

A shiny, black object amongst a slew of books drew Nadine's attention as she looked around the room. She walked over to it and picked up an onyx slab, but she was shocked when the table and the books upon it began to rattle. The entire room shook uncontrollably. Terrified, Nadine threw up her arms to protect herself from falling objects and clods of dirt. Even so, she found the law of gravity was against her, and she fell back against a trembling bookshelf, clutching the black stone to her chest. Several smaller pieces cluttered with clay tumbled from another table and shattered on the floor as the room continued to shake violently.

Terror mounted inside Nadine. She was forced to slide down with her back pressed against the case until she made contact with the dirt floor. Afterwards she was grateful for the sense of security the floor provided as her mind struggled to make sense of what was occurring. The turmoil ceased in a matter of moments, but still she found herself afraid to move, afraid the awful quaking would begin again during the unnatural silence that replaced the deep-throated grumblings of the earth.

Badly shaken, Nadine clambered to her feet, softening the iron grip with which she'd held the slab. A dull pain throbbed in the center of her chest where she'd clutched it so tightly against her body. She could feel her heart pounding as she took concentrated breaths to slow her breathing down to its normal pace. Nadine couldn't remember ever being so frightened, and all her senses remained on alert, anticipating a moment when the quaking might start again.

The silence was shattered by a panic-stricken voice shouting an alarm outside. Soon it was joined by several others. In her haste, Nadine crushed a tiny bowl as she rushed outside. She nearly collided with an elderly man running and pulling a child along. They were not the only ones running toward the center of the small marketplace that edged the island wharf. Dozens of people were running and screaming. The mass hysteria was frightening, but even so, Nadine felt compelled to follow the crowd. High, white-capped waves crashed against the shore. The waves were continuing proof that the earth had shown her displeasure.

It was her first day on Eros, a small Caribbean island near the more popular Barbados. She knew nothing about the people who inhabited the island, and only a little about the Caribbean culture in general. Her knowledge was limited to what she had managed to read in a couple of library books prior to her arrival. Because of her quick research Nadine knew that volcanic eruptions triggered by earthquakes were not an unfamiliar occurrence in the islands.

Nadine's adrenaline continued pumping. The rush itself was frightening. Through the years she had trained herself to remain outwardly calm, no matter what the circumstances. Her calm demeanor shielded her from the prying eyes of the world, and was a thin but adequate veneer to hide her insecurities. But this was different. She was a stranger here, and the strong tremors of the earth made her realize how far away from home she actually was. It was emotionally unraveling.

Nadine's steps quickly turned into a sprint as she rounded the corner of the tiny library/museum. Several yards ahead she could see a group of islanders pointing at a large statue in the middle of the antiquated business district. One elderly woman, wearing a scarf that nearly covered her eyes, wailed with fear, then covered her mouth with her hand as she stared in front of her. Nadine gently moved her aside as she approached the object through the gathering crowd. She had seen the British influence on Eros through the buildings and the language, but now a massive Greek statue rose before her. She read the inscription beneath it.

DIONYSUS, GOD OF FERTILITY AND WINE,

MAY HE FOREVER HOLD AND PROTECT

THE ISLAND OF EROS IN THE PALM OF HIS HAND

AS HE DOES THE BELOVED GOD, EROS.

Nadine placed her forearm over her brow, shading her eyes from the setting sun as she looked up, studying the immense bronze god. As frightened as she was, she couldn't help but marvel at the workmanship and artistic talent the vast object embodied.

Her gaze trailed upward over grapes and vines, sandaled feet, and strong muscular legs. A type of loincloth encased Dionysus' hips, topped by what Nadine knew to be a fawn-skin shirt. Dionysus held a drinking cup in his left hand, and his right arm was raised straight over his head. It ended in a flexed wrist that was cracked, yielding a sporadic stream of white dusty powder trickling from the wound. The immense wrist curved into a large, cupped palm with the tiny god, Eros, lying inside.

Another gasp rose from the growing crowd. “What's wrong?” Nadine heard herself ask just as another tremor struck the island. The small statuette of Eros tumbled to the ground, shattering before the horrified crowd.

Blind panic took over as the islanders ran toward several twisted paths leading up a steep hill. Automatically, Nadine looked for someone she recognized. But of course there was no one. So she ran behind the crowd, her mind a total blank. Her survival instinct forced her legs toward the hill, compelling her to follow the people who knew the island. It said the islanders would know a safe place to go.

Nadine struggled to keep up with the sure-footed group. But even though she wore flats, the slick bottoms of the department-store shoes were not made to travel so quickly over a rocky area. Almost falling when her foot struck a jagged rock, Nadine caught her balance and realized she was still holding the black slab in her hand. Her first instinct was to throw it to the side of the path, but a little voice inside stopped her. She studied the slab for just a second. It was a work of uncompromising beauty.

Carved on top of it was a sublime unicorn wearing a decorative medallion about her neck, and a small crown upon her head. The lines were feminine and sleek, and Nadine could not bring herself to discard it.

She unzipped her fanny pack, threw out a notebook pad, some pencils, and a package of Kleenex, then placed the slab inside. It had taken no more than seconds to complete her task, but when Nadine looked at the islanders in the distance, it might as well have taken half an hour. Determined to catch up, she began to run as dusk embraced Eros.

Darkness was fast approaching when she reached a hairpin turn in the path and another tremor rocked the island. Crashing and splintering sounds erupted all around, and Nadine covered her ears against the assault. Sheer instinct forced her to her knees, eyes squeezed shut. There she remained, praying, until the awful noises ceased.

When Nadine found the courage to open her eyes she remained in her protective huddle, and it was more than fortunate that she did. Mere feet in front of her a shower of stones and rocks rained down from the hilltop, completely blocking the foot-trodden path. Stunned, she surveyed the natural barrier. She began to tremble, realizing how grave the situation might have been. Tears stung her eyes. The path was impassable.

Nadine clutched her cross in a clammy hand. “My God, what should I do?” she cried out to the ghostly silent island, and forced herself to remain calm, knowing she teetered on the brink of hysteria. Should I chance venturing off into the woods to bypass the stones, not knowing what kind of damage has occurred inside the forest or still might occur? She stared at the ancient trees beside the path.

Nadine thought all of nature appeared to be against her as dusk turned to night. “Damn!” A rare cussword spewed from her mouth. “I should have stayed my black butt back in the States,” she whined, looking at the darkening sky. Nadine tried to calm herself and think of what to do next. Then she had it. The only thing she could do was go back the way she came. She had seen a small cave as she climbed. Yes! She would go back to the cave.

Forcing herself to stand, Nadine cautiously felt her way back down the footpath. Sheer determination kept her going. One thing at a time, she reassured herself. I'll figure out what to do once I reach the cave. She kept her left hand against the warm and sometimes sharp rock that bordered the path. But as the sky turned to a midnight blue it seemed she would never reach the opening, and she began to doubt if it ever existed.

Suddenly, her fingers wavered in midair. Relief flooded inside her. But she hesitated as she turned toward the dark cavern. What if some wild animal sought shelter there like herself? When she stepped into the pitch-black interior her nose crinkled at the damp, musty smell, and her hands went to the fanny pack to search for a book of matches. Once she found it, she hastily extracted it from the pack, but in her nervous state the matches slipped out of her hands.

“Oh, no!” she gasped, falling to the floor of the cave. She began to feel in the dark with uncertain, anxious hands.

The hiss of sulfur striking a matchbook cover stunned her. Suddenly, the cave came alive with a dull light.

“I presume this is what you are looking for.” A vaguely accented voice slid into the darkness.

Nadine's head jerked upward with alarm. She could see a pronounced circle of yellow light surrounding the face that appeared above her. The match was only inches away.

Midnight, intense eyes peered down at her, further shadowed by a curly wedge of ultra-dark hair. Nadine made a gagging sound at the sight of him, the man was so near. Near enough to reach out and touch her. There was something sinister about the image, but before she could focus on his features the match went out, and they were plunged into total darkness again.

“Lord,” she gasped. “What are you doing in here? You nearly scared me to death,” she said as she jumped up.

“The answer is rather obvious, don't you think?” the low voice replied.

Nadine stood in the dark only inches away from the stranger, and she became aware of his interesting but pleasant male scent. To say she was unnerved would be inadequate. The silence that filled the space between them was so unbearable, it was asphyxiating. “How long have you been in here?” Nadine spoke just to hear her own voice.

“Not long.”

“Well . . .” her discomfort was increasing, “how long do you think we'll have to stay?” She waited for his answer, which came after a long pause.

“Not much longer. The timing of the earth's tremors are as rhythmic as a heartbeat here on Eros. Once they start, the spaces of time between them can be measured. If the earth is silent a short while longer, there will be no more tremors tonight.”

Who in the heck was this character? He spoke with a distinct, unusual accent. His strangeness frightened her, but Nadine knew not to show that. Instead she asked, “How can you be so sure? Earthquakes are so unpredictable; without equipment even a seismologist would not be able to determine exactly when another tremor is going to occur.”

His response was a low grunt. Once again silence followed as they waited. For Nadine it was like torture, and she was about to speak again when the stranger abruptly announced his departure.

“Good-bye,” the voice said, and she heard the faint movement of clothing. “Now the earth is content and will remain so until the next time.”

Almost like an apparition, the shadow of a man appeared in the mouth of the cave, his form etched against the pale moonlight. Panicked at the thought of being left alone, Nadine blurted, “You can't leave me here like this! I don't even live on Eros. I was over here today doing some preliminary work. I don't have any place to—”

“The truth is, your problems are not mine,” was his indifferent, abrupt reply. “You can follow me if you wish, but that's up to you.” No sooner than the words were spoken, he stepped out on the path and into the woods.

Nadine hesitated only a moment before she bounded after the mysterious figure. She was nobody's fool. She wanted to holler out and call him everything but a child of God, but she didn't. She followed him.

The quarter moon did not provide much light, but the white shirt the stranger wore helped to keep him within view. The trek through the ancient trees would have been perilous by day, but at night it was nearly impossible. She was frustrated within minutes because her nylon-like top seemed to get snagged on every other branch, and although she wore her hair close to her head, the ball in the back was still a magnet for low-hanging tree branches.

The stranger's actions backed up his words as he moved swiftly ahead. It was evident he was not concerned about her welfare, and if Nadine hadn't clearly heard his reluctant invitation she might have assumed he was trying to lose her.

Suddenly, a ripping sound erupted as Nadine leaped over a large, decaying branch. She stopped, knowing the pants she had bought especially for this trip had torn. “Is there anything else that can happen?” she moaned and tried to continue, but one pants leg had gotten caught on a protruding stump of the dead plant. “Wait!” she yelled as she bent over to free the material, ripping the seat of her pants even further. Her request was met by dead silence, and her heart jolted when she could no longer hear the stranger crashing through the woods ahead. The sound of man had totally been replaced by the night sounds of nature.

Alarmed, Nadine rushed forward, only to emerge on a well-formed dirt road. She desperately looked in both directions, her head swiveling back and forth. She knew luck was with her when she caught a glimpse of the stranger's white sleeve reflected by the pale moonlight. Mentally and physically drained, Nadine pushed herself to follow the fleeting sign as the stranger rounded a bend. Even though she was terribly frightened, and should have felt thankful for any assistance the man offered, she could not help but feel anger welling up against him. But Nadine continued to follow him, wondering if he had been sent from heaven or hell.