~ A Trivial Pursuit ~

by

Marilyn Gardiner

With two fingers he tipped her head back and kissed her long and hard before answering. “Not early by a schedule normal people keep. At any rate, this is our last evening here, and you are through working.” He pulled her to her feet and turned her to face him.

“But, I still have--”

He put a finger on her lips. “Shhh. Sally can finish whatever is left when we get back to the States. I’ve ordered cocktails to be served here on the verandah in half an hour, which will give us both time to shower if we hurry. We’re going to enjoy the sunset like other, sane, people do and then I’m going to take you to dinner at the Plantation Inn. There will be dancing, if you like, so wear something smashing. Those are the orders, my love, and no back talk.” He smiled fondly, holding her loosely in the circle of his arms.

She smiled back. “What makes you think I’d argue with dinner and dancing? It sounds heavenly. But none of this,” and she waved a vague hand, “sounds to me much like ‘strictly business’.”

“On hold. Temporary suspension of all rules. Now go do whatever mysterious things women do to get ready for something special.”

Grateful to Annie for insisting she bring something dressy, Lauren put on the delphinium-blue long skirt and matching halter top, secured her hair on top of her head with Jeremy’s combs and joined him on the verandah.

Fresh from the shower himself, Jeremy was dressed in white slacks and a short-sleeved bush jacket. A tailored gray cotton coat was draped over the back of a chair. He was conversing with the Jamaican waiter. Apparently, they’d talked before because the waiter was smiling broadly and, speaking in familiar patois, telling Jeremy about his small son.

“Him one damn-fine pickney,” the man said proudly. “Him real jinnal. Las’ week I lick him ply with de trap.”

“The strap! Oh well...” Jeremy said.

The man’s smile faded and he frowned. “Him disobey Mama and go off in de bush. Tumble in de pahn (pond), brash.” The smile returned broader than ever, his teeth startlingly white. “Now him swim good. T’ree summers old las’ week and him swim in de water, swi, swi, like speckled congor eel.” His hand made a curving arc through the air imitating the fish.

“Our sons have birthdays in the same month then. Michael’s is in another few weeks.”

Catching sight of Lauren standing in the doorway, the waiter backed away and bowed formally. “Pleasant evening, Mistress,” he said, and disappeared down the oleander-lined path.

“What, for heaven’s sake, is a jinnal?” Lauren asked, coming to sit beside Jeremy on the three-cushioned wicker sofa.

“It’s a patois term meaning a trickster or one who plays pranks.” Jeremy laughed. “Sounds like his three-year-old fits the image.”

“But Jeremy, the strap!”

Jeremy shook his head. “Just a phrase. Jamaicans don’t spank their children. He’d never lay a hand on that kid. He’s so proud of him he could burst. He also has four girls.”

“That young man?” Lauren was incredulous. “But, he can’t be as old as you are!”

“Just about,” Jeremy agreed. “But this is Jamaica. They start young and stop late.”

“Does his family live near here?”

“Nope. Their home is up in Cockpit Country. In the mountains. He commutes. I wanted to take you up there one day, but time is running out. He has several brothers who are fishermen. Like those out there.” He pointed down the beach to two Jamaicans pulling a boat, heavily loaded with the evening catch, up on the sand.

The sound of their singing drifted on the wind, a low-key chanting that was somehow sad and yet comforting. The song had an ever-after quality that Lauren could only identify as being akin to the hymns she’d sung all her life in church. The fishermen were singing a song of faith. She settled deeper in the sofa and watched the ocean change from a brilliant, light-filled blue to an iridescent turquoise and finally the deeper indigo of night as the sun drained color from the waves and set behind the cottage.

Jeremy’s arm went around her shoulders and she leaned against the broad expanse of his chest. Close at hand they heard the harsh sound of clashing palm fronds and in the distance a melodic snatch of soft laughter from the hymn-singers. From the ocean came the rhythmic ca-whomp and swoosh of the surf. A sense of peace fell around them so perfect Lauren was almost afraid to breathe for fear of shattering the serenity of the moment. The stress of the day seemed to melt from her bones and evaporate. A secret place inside her began to relax and unfold in response to the beauty before her.

Beyond the spreading branches of a thick almond tree the sky was streaked with long fingers of an apricot and peach haze until a spreading purplish cast seemed to reflect from the water and dilute the muted hues with the colors of the ocean itself. Gradually, they were enveloped in a gentle lavender twilight.

Jeremy’s thumb made feather-light caressing circles on her bare shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh Lord our God, how majestic is thy name in all the earth. When I look at the heavens and the work of thy fingers... The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament proclaims his handiwork,” she said softly, quoting Psalms. (8:1,3 and 19:1) “How beautiful this past week has been.”

Jeremy rested his cheek against the top of her head. She could feel the vibrations of his voice. “And I was selfishly thinking how lucky I was to have been driving behind you that foggy morning. Or that, maybe, my luck is that you drive a pile of junk only I seem to be able to keep running.”

He lifted his head and Lauren could feel him tense. “For the first time in many years,” he said, “I’m counting my blessings.”

She turned her face up slowly, aware that her heartbeat had quickened. Deliberately she put the question into her eyes and waited.

His mouth came down to brush hers. “I think I might love you,” he said, his lips moving against her mouth. “God help me. I do love you.” And he crushed her to him in an embrace that threatened to break her ribs.

An almost painful sweetness coursed through her veins. He loved her. He said so. He did! He loved her. Her arms went around his neck and she felt the need to press herself even closer. She wanted to be one with this man, in the Biblical sense of the word. And now that he had admitted to loving her, there would be no obstacle. The years stretched before her happily, spent in sharing and working together. Jeremy and Lauren. Lauren Blake. Mrs. Jeremy Blake.

He laughed a little shakily. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Like, maybe, ‘I love you, too.’” There was an uncertainty in his voice and he put her away from him only far enough to see into her eyes.

She smiled, adoring the way his eyelashes stuck out long and spiky; the little triangular scar at the corner of one eye; his hair, sooty black and curling over the tips of his ears. And the slightly anxious tilt to his head as he waited for her answer.

“Surely you don’t have to ask. At times I think I wear my love for you branded on my forehead for all the world to see. Yes, of course, I love you.”

He closed his eyes briefly as if in thanksgiving and then fan-shaped laughter lines splayed on either side of his face and he hugged her again. For a long moment he held her like that, snug and safe against his chest. The faint thump, thump of his heart pulsed beneath her hand and a quiver ran the long length of his body pressed against hers.

He kissed her again, threading his hands through her hair and maneuvering her head to the slant of his mouth. His breathing was coarse and ragged and Lauren realized her own wasn’t much better. This was what it meant to want and be wanted in the context of Christian love. This breathless, yearning, beautiful, aching need. Her body crying out to his. How wonderfully God had created man and woman, each incomplete without the other.

Then he slowly pulled back, fighting that to which she gave free and glorious rein. “I doubt you could find a scripture for what you do to me, lady,” he said, gruffly.

“Entreat me not to leave thee,” she began and felt a long bubble of laughter rise within him.

“I’ll not trade scripture with you. I’d lose. And we’d better go eat now or I might do something I’d regret in the morning. Come on. Let’s find the Plantation Inn and celebrate.”

His happiness took the form of total and unadulterated silliness. All the way to the restaurant he laughed, waved hello to the cows they passed along the road, and sang at the top of his voice.

At one point they overtook an elderly Jamaican, prodding a lethargic donkey along in front of him. Jeremy shouted as they went by, “Congratulate me, friend! The lady loves me!” The Jamaican doffed his straw hat and bobbed his head in return.

“Stop this, you idiot,” Lauren laughed. “People are going to think you are crazy.”

“Never. Above all, the Jamaican understands about love. If I’d stopped the car, that old man would have danced with me in the middle of the road. Did I ever tell you the old Jamaican parable?”

“I don’t think so. Jeremy! You’re going to land us in a ditch.”

He grinned fatuously and glanced at the road ahead and then turned back to her. “Well, you see it is impossible to carry one breadfruit in a basket on the head. It rolls around until it tips the basket over. And two isn’t all that much better, because...”

“Jeremy! The tree!”

He righted the car and continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “...one tends to roll against the other. Three, now, is a bit of an improvement, but four and five make the load much easier to balance. The man who told me the parable had eleven pickneys and insisted that twelve would make the whole batch easier to raise. How many children would you like, Lauren?”

“Twelve children! Jeremy, be sensible. Even the cows are laughing at us.”

At the Plantation Inn Lauren took Jeremy’s arm firmly as they waited just inside the torch-lit entrance. “Behave now. You have to act as if you have good sense or they won’t let us in. And I’m hungry.”

They were ushered to a linen-draped table on an open patio. Hurricane candles glowed warmly against the night and potted palms stood in friendly clusters of two and three. Across the terrace a group of happy people gathered around a low-sided box and with much hilarity placed bets on crab racing contests.

Lauren thought there had never been such a lovely night. The star-shattered velvet of the night sky seemed to enfold them and behind it all was the backdrop of the ocean pounding in frothing surrender against the shore.

“See that palm?” With a twinkle in his eye Jeremy nodded toward the ocean and with a perfectly straight face began to recite:

“Ah, my lovely, my lady fair

with flashing eyes and silken hair,

Just like that palm arching toward the sea

you are the waves and the palm is me.”

Lauren began to laugh. “For the sake of argument I’ll call it poetry. But Jeremy,” she whispered, “it’s really bad.”

Mouth twitching, he curved an eyebrow and went on, his voice swelling dramatically.

“Straight as an arrow that palm would have grown

if across the road that seed had been sown.

But, lured by the surf’s romance

it’s given up its will and in another’s

arms will dance.”

Lauren groaned and laughed. “Will you stop? This is dreadful! Someone will hear.”

“Hush. I’m not finished.” He composed his face and clasped one hand over his heart in an outrageous gesture.

“Smitten by your captivating charms

I walk boldly into your waiting arms.

As that tree, I have no will of my own

but follow your beckoning siren’s moan.”

Lauren all but howled with laughter. “Jeremy, that is truly terrible. The worst poetry I’ve ever heard.”

“What? And here I was thinking of giving up lawyering to work on the telephone Dial a Poem. I’m crushed.”

She shook her head. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“You inspire me.”

Still trying to suppress giggles they dared not look at each other while the waiter served their dinner. Lauren was charmed by Jeremy’s silliness and knew that this was only a glimpse of the man he could be when he was released from the burden of insecurity he’d carried for so long. Maybe now that he felt comfortable in her love he would be free.

They feasted on minted paw paw balls and Jamaican pepperpot soup, first. Then came escovitch of Caribbean dolphin with petit pois Francaise and a salad made of fresh pineapple and cottage cheese. For dessert they were served exquisite beignets soufflés, and as they sat quietly listening to a native Jamaican band play soft stringed music they ate assorted cheeses and sipped aromatic cups of Blue Mountain coffee.

“This has been the most perfect night of my life, Jeremy. Thank you.” Lauren put her hand to his cheek and ran a finger along his jaw line. “I wish I could share the bliss with everyone I know. Annie would trade almost anything she owned for a man to love. Not that I’d include you in the bargain,” she added.

“What about Annie?” he asked. “The last I heard she was job hunting.”

Lauren frowned. “Somehow she is either overqualified or under-experienced for everything that comes up.”

“I have a few contacts,” he said. “Let me see if I can uncover anything.”

“That would be wonderful. Annie may act like a featherbrain, but actually she’s very bright. Her degree is in business. She graduated magna cum laude. She’s just never found the right niche.”

He nodded, made a note on his I-POD and tucked it away in a pocket. Then he picked up her hand again, caressing her fingers one by one with his thumb.

“There’s so much more I wanted to show you. Discovery Bay is where Columbus landed in 1494. There are the rum and sugar factories and Mandeville Market. I wanted you to see the black sand beaches and take you snorkeling at Negril.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to come back. And the next time we won’t work.”

He looked so earnest sitting across from her. So handsome and dependable and... And eager. As eager as herself, she thought, for their lives together to begin. She loved him so much. And yet, there was that faint niggle of Ryan’s ugly accusations. What would he say if she came right out and asked about them? About Michael’s question concerning a move? Did his declaration of love give her freedom to probe into that section of his life?

She toyed with her spoon on the tablecloth and then said casually. “Michael said the two of you might be moving. Is it a secret, maybe, and none of my business?”

“No secret any longer. I’ve been thinking that one of these days we might move to a house instead of the apartment in Georgetown. I think you are absolutely right. We need more space to get to know one another. And now,” he squeezed her hand, “you can choose the place you want. Where would you like to live? Reston? Bethesda?”

“Place doesn’t matter, Jeremy. I’ll be happy wherever you and Michael are.”

He drew a long, slow breath and his voice was unsteady. “I am the most fortunate of men. Who ever would have thought there was a woman like you left in the world?” He leaned toward her, his eyes warm and full of love on hers. “You’ll move in the minute we get home and the first thing we’ll do is get you a decent car.”

In a single instant it seemed to Lauren that all the world screamed to a sudden and catastrophic halt. The night splintered into a thousand shards and within her, her spirit, hope, something, died.