“Emergency, mostly, but also speed. It’s a good hour to get to the mainland, a good hour back, and it’s open water. You can run both if you’re in a hurry, but it’s really loud that way, and we’re in no rush.”
One engine sounded plenty loud to Laura; it drowned out easy conversation as it was.
The day was beautiful; Gizelle’s lyrical description of pouring sunshine seemed incredibly accurate. The ocean glittered under the rays, and twice they saw pods of whales in the distance, flipping tails and blowing spouts. Laura would not have wanted to see them closer.
“Otter!” Tex pointed out. A small dark head swam beside them for a short while, but they quickly outstripped it. “You don’t often see just one of them,” Tex observed.
Laura let her hand trail in the sparkling waves, and marveled at the ocean. It was incredibly clear, and at first, they could see down through turquoise layers to the sand and reef below, but it fell away to unspeakably dark depths very quickly.
There was something comfortable about the journey; the rocking of the boat was alarming at first, but settled into a soothing, mesmerizing pattern. They felt like a part of it, like they fit, together, into an interlocking destiny.
Turning to look behind them, Laura watch the island shrink. Roofs and landmarks that already felt like home disappeared into the dark emerald jungle that surrounded it, and eventually even that dissolved into the waves of the ocean. It was an odd feeling of loss when it was finally impossible to make out. But by that time, the mainland was in sight, stretching across the eastern horizon like an invitation.
Tex took the boat into a protected little jetty, to a dock so rickety it made the Shifting Sands dock look new and modern. The mix of boats already there ranged from shining yachts to tiny rowboats with ancient outboards bungee-corded onto them.
“Can we just leave the boat here?” Laura asked, looking around. The village they’d landed at was a curious mix, the kind of abject poverty she’d expect from a third world nation directly next to a crisp tourist cart with a menu in English, German, and Japanese.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Tex assured her. “They know us here, and no one will risk Scarlet’s wrath by stealing anything. That’s the sort of thing that only happens once...”
He helped her up onto the dock, which swayed under their steps, and laughed and held her up when Laura’s sea legs caught her by surprise. “It didn’t feel like that long of a ride,” she laughed.
“We’ll put our order in at Lee’s and go have lunch and a cold drink while they get it together,” Tex suggested, tucking her arm into his and strolling to solid ground.
Lee’s seemed to be a poorly marked shack from the outside, but was a modern grocery on the inside, stacked to the low ceiling with Spanish-marked goods and more bottled water than Laura had seen in her life. Tex went straight to the back, where a grizzled little Asian man took their order.
“Not sure I can get that many bottles together,” Lee said, shaking his head over the wine order. “But I’ll ask Lita to run up to the In and Out and see what they have.”
Tex tipped his hat to him. “My thanks, sir.”
“Anytime, Cowboy. Take your beautiful young lady here over to the market for a while and come back late afternoon. We’ll have your boat loaded by four.”
Tex shook his hand.
“Give my regards to Ms. Scarlet,” Lee added with a wink.
“Always,” Tex agreed.
“They know Scarlet here?” Laura observed. “I didn’t think she left the island.”
“I’ve stopped being surprised by anything to do with Scarlet,” Tex said.
“Will we be able to get back before dark?” Laura asked with sudden concern. She didn’t like the idea of boating out into darkness without being able to see where they were going. She was honestly a little unnerved by the thought of boating on the open ocean altogether, but she didn’t want to admit that to Tex.
“When Lee says four, that means four on the dot, so we’ll have a little over an hour to get back before sunset. Should be fine.”
The reassurance was all Laura needed to enjoy herself.
They ate lunch at a place on the outskirts of the village that was mostly a leaning porch and a hut, but it served ice cold colas in glass bottles and plates piled with rice, beans, plantains, a salsa Tex introduced as picadillo, something that was almost coleslaw but not quite, and a thigh of spicy grilled chicken.
A skinny stray dog made itself at home underneath their table, and Laura fed it the last of her rice when she was too full for the last few mouthfuls.
There was something about the hum of the ocean and the insects, the cries of toucans in the treetops. The fruity smell of warm jungle was comfortable, and the hum of conversation that Laura didn’t understand somehow didn’t make her feel excluded. Everyone flashed wide, sincere smiles at her, eyes almost crinkled shut in their enthusiasm.
Laura had stuffed herself full, and the stray dog was thumping it’s grateful tail on her foot when Tex stood up and took her hand. “Let’s go see the market.”
The market proved to be a crooked row just off the beach of tents and cars with their back hatches open, an informal collection of local merchants selling an array of colorful goods. Scarves fluttered in the breeze, and opportunistic sellers offered overpriced suntan lotion and bottled water next to hand-carved masks and sculptures.
Tex stepped knowingly into a slightly more permanent booth, built of weathered plywood on two sides, with a metal roof over tables heaped with open bins of spices.