The Jumbee (15 page)

As Esti stood in waist-deep water the next morning, she wondered what she had been thinking.

“My uncle owns a dive shop, so I actually know what I’m doing.” Rafe adjusted the face mask to fit her head.

Although the warm water felt nice, the ocean looked huge from this far out in the shallows. Esti had never been in past her knees before, except from the safety of a boat. She couldn’t imagine anything beneath the surface worth risking her life for, and she felt vulnerable in her skimpy black swimsuit, reeking of coconut sunscreen.

“You’ll be fine,” Rafe added. “The best thing about snorkeling is how you can just let go and stop worrying. Let the sea take control, while you relax and enjoy the show.”

Esti slowly draped the mask over her head. “You’re telling me it’s all about being out of control.”

“It’ll be good for you, honest.” He gave her a mischievous look. “So, here’s how you work the snorkel.”

Clamping down on her fear, Esti copied Rafe’s movements, wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece and biting. It felt as absurd as it looked, and she tried not to hyperventilate at the concept of breathing underwater. The idea of deliberately not being in control was as scary as it was compelling.

“The best reefs are out by the cays,” Rafe said, spitting out his mouthpiece to talk, “but Manchicay Bay is a great place to see fish. Put your face down until you’re under the water, and the top of your snorkel will stay in the air so you can breathe. I’ll be right beside you if you need help.”

She felt his hands on her shoulder and her waist, light and restrained. Clutching the mouthpiece in her teeth, she lifted her feet and sank into the water with deep, sucking breaths. She was about to drown, for the privilege of seeing a few fish.

To her surprise, the fish were beautiful. A large yellow and black striped angelfish hovered beside her, long fins and tail streaming gracefully from its body. As it darted away, she saw hundreds of bright blue fish dancing and turning in perfect harmony; the slanting rays of the morning sun caught them like iridescent sequins sparkling in the water. The nearby rocks rose from the sea floor like underwater mountains, covered with swaying seaweed and bright coral in alien shapes.

She was flying, she thought in astonishment, magically suspended on the undulating surface of the sea. When Rafe’s face appeared beside her, she laughed out loud. Water immediately filled the mask as her smiling cheeks broke the airtight seal. Lurching upward in panic, she tried to speak, and the sea rushed into her mouth as well. Rafe yanked her out of the water, pulling the mask and tube away from her face.

“It’s okay,” he said. “The bottom’s right here, just put your feet down. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Esti grabbed him, spitting salty water and choking for air. He wrapped his fingers firmly around her waist, holding her steady as she became aware of the heat from his hands. As electricity raced through her body, she instantly pulled herself away. Although the water barely came above her hips, she hoped he would think her rapid breathing was due to nearly drowning, rather than the breathtaking proximity of their bodies.

“Sorry about that,” she said without looking at him. It had occurred to her that the biggest danger today might have nothing to do with the sea.

“You’re doing great!” he said enthusiastically. “Most beginners glue their feet to the bottom, but you were floating on the first try.”

“It felt like flying.” She gave him a quick glance as she brought her breathing under control. “Flying in the sea, while watching an alien ballet.”

“Yeah, mon,” Rafe said with a smile. “That’s
exactly
how I feel.”

When her body tingled again, she lifted her chin in determination. “I’m ready to start over.” Rafe had promised to stay professional, and Esti would make sure of it. “I had no idea how pretty it was down there.”

“Yeah.” His eyes hadn’t left hers. “Makes me wonder what else is hiding beneath the surface.” He looked away before she could, untangling the masks he had draped over his arm. “Keep the mask tight against your face once you’re underwater. No smiling this time. But we’ll only float for a few more minutes. As soon as you’re ready, I
am
going to teach you how to swim.”

She readjusted the snorkel against her face, fiddling with her mask until her heartbeat returned to normal.

First he showed her how to relax, letting her body float while she watched the fish. Then he swam circles around her while she kicked with rubber fins. Best of all, he taught her how to move her arms and legs in deeper water so she stayed up even without a snorkel and fins. “You’re swimming,” he pointed out as she tried to get used to the idea of keeping her head above the water. “I knew it wouldn’t take long.”

When they finally flopped onto their beach towels, Esti was exhausted. “Thank you,” she said, studying a pretty seashell Rafe had plucked from the ocean floor for her. “If this is being out of control, maybe I like it.”

Rafe laughed, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand to look down at her. “That’s the thing,” he said. “When you swim, the sea takes over. Nothing in the water gives a rip about you and your problems. Not that
you
have any problems, but it sure keeps my head on straight.”

Esti smiled at the bizarre notion of having no problems.

“If you want more lessons,” Rafe added, “let me know. By the end of Christmas break you could be racing me across the bay. I need someone to go diving with.”

“Scuba diving?” She raised her eyebrows. “You mean, in deep water?”

“We’d start easy and hang out near the cays. Their corals aren’t as damaged as the reefs close to Cariba.”

“Not that cay, though.”

Rafe snorted as she gestured toward Manchineel Cay. “Of course you’ve heard the legends.”

She attempted a poor imitation of Ma Harris’s voice. “I hear so much ting about jumbee dem.”

“Dey jumbee dem stay away from you when I’s around, babe,” Rafe shot back. “You sweet too bad, an’ I ain’t gon stand for no jumbee threaten you and thing.”

She burst into laughter. “That’s right. You used to have an accent. You sound just like a California boy these days.”

“I learned how to turn it off in L.A.” He grinned. “Most of us turn it back on when we talk to each other. West Indian dialect has a great rhythm, and it’s a sign of respect when we talk
real
to each other. If you heard me and my parents talking, you wouldn’t understand a word. Just like when you used to hit me with your Shakespeare.”

“I always liked the way you talked.” The memory made her strangely happy. “How often do you come to Cariba?”

“Every Christmas.” Rafe stared out at the water, his expression content. “And most summers. My family’s been here forever. The Solomons and Harrises—you know Lucia—were slaves on the old Manchicay plantation. Now my uncle owns three restaurants and a dive shop, and my cousin’s a senator. This time I’m staying for a few months, like I told you. I gotta save up some money for college next year, and I’m hoping . . .” He paused, then gave her a quick sideways look. “. . . you might decide to learn how to scuba dive. I’m a certified instructor for that too.”

Esti thought about the beautiful secret world hiding within the sea. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it sounds appealing.”

“Very appealing.” He clearly wasn’t speaking about scuba diving, and the flirting words played her like a light switch, the charge pulsing all the way to the tips of her toes.

She instantly looked away, rolling over to sit up on her towel.

“Completely professional,” Rafe added dryly. “I promise.”

I could talk you out of that,
Esti thought in confusion, disturbed by how easily he was able to turn her on. “Do you teach scuba diving at your uncle’s shop?” she asked.

“Nah, I make better money bartending. Continentals are annoying unless they’re throwing big tips at me while they’re drunk.” He gave her his irrepressible grin. “When I’m flying in the water, I’d rather do it with someone I like.”

It was all Esti could do to keep from reaching out to stroke her fingertips along the smooth black cornrows braided over his head. She wanted to touch him and feel his hands on her again, and it was unsettling. Very deliberately, she dropped his seashell into her beach bag, then lifted her fingers to touch Alan’s necklace. “I’m a Continental.”

“Not really. You already got a reputation on Cariba, you know.”

“
I
have a reputation?” she asked flippantly.

“Even you.” Rafe managed to keep a straight face. “’Tis a small island, babe.”

She tried to imagine the things Danielle might have said about her. “And what would my reputation be?”

“Everyone says you got
de gift
. Most West Indians never met a white girl who talks to jumbees.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Of all the gossip she might have worried about, it had never occurred to Esti that the crazy jumbee rumors were spreading beyond Danielle’s little clique. “I don’t know anything about jumbees, except what Ma Harris told me.”

He laughed. “Ma Harris has her own ideas. Everyone on Cariba is afraid of her.”

“Great.” Tightness crawled up Esti’s spine and along her scalp, like a keening wail from Manchineel Cay. Alan couldn’t have touched her if he weren’t real. Zombies didn’t go around giving girls necklaces. And he wouldn’t have done it unless it meant . . . something.

As Rafe leaned back down on his towel, still smiling, her restlessness grew. She scooped her fingers into the sand, wondering what exactly she had with Alan. He’d finally admitted that he liked her, even if his weird paranoia kept him in hiding. Her time with him was sheer magic; their minds seemed to meet perfectly when they were together.

But she clearly needed someone she could see and touch. She wanted a face to look at; she craved warm hands holding her waist. And she couldn’t help wondering what it felt like to kiss a boy—not a rehearsed moment in front of an audience, but for real.

Aware of Rafe’s eyes on her, she scraped her fingers through the sand, wondering if she really
was
going crazy. What normal, sane girl would fall in love with a disembodied voice in the dark anyway? When Aurora finally heard the wild rumors—which she would, even in her seclusion—Esti was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

No. It was Alan who had some explaining to do.

Esti abruptly wiped the sand smooth. It was time for him to prove the rumors wrong. She
did
want to be with him, and if he could give her a necklace, he could give her more. This time she wouldn’t back down.

She looked up at Rafe. “We should go. I need to start getting ready for tonight.”

“Okay.” He seemed amused, undoubtedly aware of the turmoil he’d been wreaking in her body all day. He’d probably been through the same thing dozens of times. When he held out his hand to help her up, she shook her head, scrambling to her feet by herself.

Undeterred, he scooped up her beach towel and flung it over his shoulder to carry for her. “Can I give you a ride to school?”

Esti nodded, suddenly impatient with herself. Whatever his intentions, Rafe was being very nice. She had no right to jump to conclusions, especially since part of her secretly wished he
would
try for a kiss.

“Sure,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

Act Two. Scene Two.

The parking lot was already half full, locals chatting and gesturing toward the theater as Rafe parked the Jeep.

“Check this out,” he said. “Everyone’s here early to see what the hype is about.”

“Because the play was so good last night?” Esti told herself it was no big deal; in Ashland she had performed before bigger crowds than this.

“My dad got the word around. Hey, thanks for going snorkeling with me today.”

“Thanks for teaching me how not to drown.” She glanced around the parking lot again. People were staring at her, many of them whispering animatedly as their eyes moved between her and Rafe.

“A lot of them just want to see Esti Legard, jumbee whisperer,” Rafe continued casually. “They’re fascinated by you.”

“Huh?” She turned to him in disbelief.

“Huh?” he teased. “See, I’m not the only one. I’m just the lucky one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I had a great time today.”

As he flashed his million-dollar smile, Esti realized Rafe was playing up his audience. She wondered if Alan knew the jumbee gossip had been spreading like wildfire.

“How old were we when we met?” Rafe added. “I feel like I’ve known you forever. That sounds dumb, though, doesn’t it?”

“Dumb as a doornail,” she said absently. After a moment, she focused back on Rafe, softening the sarcastic words with a repentant smile. She couldn’t get mad, even if he was using the moment to his advantage. She’d honestly had a wonderful day. “I was five.”

“And you split when I was eleven. How could I have wasted all these years? I’m an idiot, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she quipped.
And you’re not the only one.

“My dad has front row tickets,” he said. “I’ll see you later tonight, even if you don’t see me.”

She nodded, her mind on Alan again. Trying to pretend the crowds of people weren’t watching, she reached behind her seat for the big plastic bag of Juliet costumes. “Thanks, Rafe. I had fun today too.”

Carmen stood at the doors of the theater, her expression incredulous as Esti approached the building with her costumes. “That
was
Rafe Solomon, wasn’t it? Lucia said she saw you leave together last night, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.”

Esti blushed as her eyes met Carmen’s. “I told you we were old friends.”

“Esti!”

She winced at Carmen’s shriek. If anyone had somehow missed her arrival with Rafe, they certainly knew Esti Legard was here now.

“Did you spend the night with him?”