Chapter 12
"Wake up, sleepy," Nikki's voice trilled from just beyond the bedroom door. Sinclair rolled over and opened her eyes very slowly. Though she hadn't had nearly as much rum punch as she'd wanted to, the little she'd had made her sluggish. And her body ached. The muscles of her belly, thighs, and legs hurt. Even the bottoms of her feet were sore.
"I'm up," she croaked.
"We're all heading to the beach today. Come in for breakfast, then get ready to go."
"Now?"
"In a couple of hours."
"Umm ... I'll skip breakfast. Just wake me right before it's time to go."
"All right." Nikki's laughing voice drifted away from the door.
No more rum punch, Sinclair vowed as she burrowed back into the sheets and promptly fell back asleep.
High noon found Sinclair still half-conscious but spread out on a beach towel next to her father's coconut-branch lean-to. After a soak in the warm seawater and a surprisingly skillful massage from Nikki, her body wasn't nearly as sore as it had been in the morning. From under her beach umbrella, she watched Xavier and Nikki running and playing on the long stretch of sand. Her stepmother looked barely older than a child herself in the cutoff overalls and baggy T-shirt that hid the curves of her body. Nikki's hair, pulled up into two Afro puffs above her ears, fluttered in the breeze as she ran after her son.
"Hey, everybody!" Sinclair looked up to see her sister walking toward the lean-to where Victor sat.
"We were worried that you wouldn't come," their father said. "After I saw the condition that you left Sinclair in last night we were sure that you looked just as bad."
"What are you talking about?" She dropped to her knees in the sand and kissed Victor on the cheek. "Sinclair looks great and I feel even better."
Lydia was lying about how she felt. Did that mean Sinclair looked liked hell, too? "Don't do me any favors, Lydia," Sinclair muttered from her blanket.
"Hey, Xavie and Nik." Lydia waved at the two shapes dashing over the sand like seagulls, flapping their arms and carrying on like theirs was the only family on the beach. Others were far enough away that, hopefully, they could only hear faint echoes of the two's birdlike shrieks.
Lydia kicked off her shoes and spread out her own blanket near Victor's. With a quick, graceful movement, she slid off her white shorts, leaving her dark amber body covered in a tiny bikini. Lydia stuck her tongue out at Sinclair then lay back on the blanket.
"Are you doing all right over there?" Sinclair asked.
"I'm OK. When I got home last night I fell straight to sleep. I barely had time to take my clothes off and brush my teeth."
"Lucky you."
Sinclair wished that she'd had that easy a time of it. After getting back home a little after five, she'd been too keyed up to rest. Between her aching body and her hyperactive brain, she hadn't been able to fall asleep until the sun was full in the sky, and that was barely an hour before Nikki knocked at the door telling her it was time to get up. After packing up her beach gear, struggling to the bright yellow Honda that her father had once again borrowed for their outing, then struggling back out of the car to set up the lean-to and supplies once they got to the beach, Sinclair was exhausted.
"Do you need any help, Papa?" Lydia asked.
"No, not yet. If you want, you can help Nikki and Xavier get the wood for the fire." He looked down the beach. It was obvious his wife and son were doing more playing than gathering, but he settled back in his chair with a laugh. "By dinnertime we should have a fire going." His eyes settled on Sinclair for a moment, on her bleary eyes and sluggish movements.
"What can I do to help?" she asked, hoping he'd say "nothing."
"Can you gut and clean fish?"
Later on Sinclair found out that her father was joking, but she did have to wrap several cold, fishy bodies in foil to get them ready for the fire. Xavier laughed at her as he carried his unwrapped fish, held close to his chest like a baby, toward the large blaze that their father had started.
"Don't do that, Xavier," Nikki cautioned. "You're getting your fish dirty." He pouted but brought the fish back so that his mother could season it with lime juice, salt, butter, and pepper, then wrap it in foil. She put it on the fire for him.
Sinclair stood up. As she walked to the water's edge to wash the stink of raw fish from her hands, the sound of her family's conversation and laughter faded into the background. Her eyes narrowed on the horizon to see the sun falling slowly behind a sprinkling of clouds. Brilliant shades of burnt orange, red, and gold colored the beach and the water tumbling up to the sand in a joyous symphony of gurgles and whispers. She crouched and washed her hands in the playful waves.
"Wipe your hands with this." Nikki came up from behind to offer her a towel, damp with lime juice and water.
"Thanks." Sinclair wiped her hands then gave the folded towel back to her. They walked back to join the rest of the family.
"How are things going with the picture Hunter is doing of you?" Nikki asked.
"It's going well. At least, I think so." They shared the oversized blanket near the lean-to, sinking into the soft cotton with twin sighs. Nearby Victor hovered closer to the fire, checking on the food and talking with Lydia. Xavier stood beside them, poking the flames with a long stick. "I haven't seen it yet, but she says that she'll have it done long before I leave."
"That's good because I want to see it." Nikki stretched out on the blanket, pillowing her head on folded arms. "Nobody ever did a picture of me."
"If you want her to paint you I'm sure she wouldn't have a problem. Just ask."
"You didn't have to ask."
Sinclair smiled thinking of the day Hunter had asked to paint her. "True."
"She must like you a lot."
Does she? "Sometimes I wonder if it's just for my resemblance to Lydia that makes her interested in me." Sinclair's mouth twisted at the thought.
"No, no." Nikki rolled over and touched her arm. "I'm sure that's not it."
"It's OK if that's the reason. After all, she and I are just friends. We get along fine and she's a nice woman. I traded some good wine for her painting my boring picture."
"Boring?" She released a snort of laughter. "I don't think so."
"We'll see."
They sat in silence listening to the soft voices of Lydia and Victor a few feet away. The evening was quieter now, with only the call of seabirds, the whisper of seawater spilling on the sand, and the occasional shout of laughter, to disturb its peace.
"Do you live alone in America?" Nikki asked suddenly.
Sinclair sighed at the remembered sense of peace that being in the apartment alone gave her. "Yes."
"You weren't scared about being alone like that?"
Sinclair shook her head. "I like being alone. The quiet is nice."
"Victor says that, too, about the way it was before I came to live with him, but it's hard to believe that people actually like to be alone." She glanced quickly at her husband, then away. "When you're alone it's too easy to be lonely."
"Not really. It's easier than being alone in a group of people. I enjoy my alone time, especially now that I'm here."
"But what about America?" She propped her chin up on a fist and fixed her rapt gaze on Sinclair.
"It's OK. I have a lot of advantages being there, but I wouldn't say that it's better than being on the island." Sinclair didn't want to tell her how it had really been, especially after Gram died-the sense of isolation, of not belonging, and always feeling like she'd been missing something. "It's beautiful here. The sort of place where I could be happy living. "
"I thought you'd be bored here. No theaters, no sushi."
"I don't eat sushi."
Nikki laughed. "The television was wrong about that, too. I thought every modern American woman loves sushi."
"Some do, but not this one. I prefer my fish well cooked." Sinclair grinned. "But I do like sake though."
"What's that?"
As Sinclair explained the pleasures of Japanese rice wine to her stepmother, Victor, Xavier, and Lydia finished cooking their dinner and took it off the fire.
"Food's ready!"
The family sat under the large lean-to sharing the fragrant meal of roasted corn, fish, and ripe breadfruit, their fingers scooping up the hot, roasted food to appreciative mouths. The sun's glow slowly disappeared, allowing a blanket of stars to spread out above them. Lydia, Nikki, and Sinclair sat together, eating and talking about American men and what they found acceptable in their women. Victor sat with Xavier on his knee and watched the women, his eyes straying occasionally to the stars.
"Where's Hunter tonight, Lydia?"
Sinclair glanced quickly at their father, wondering what he knew about Hunter and Lydia's current situation.
"Probably at home. I thought this was a family thing so I didn't invite her."
Even Xavier could tell that she was lying. "She been to other things before," he said.
Lydia shot him a look of annoyance, but said nothing.
"Is everything all right with her?" Nikki asked with concern.
"Everything is fine. Really. She just has a lot of work to do and I needed some time with my family."
Victor and Nikki exchanged a look. Sinclair bit into her corn and focused her attentions on her sand-flecked toe. Lydia's pain was so raw and obvious that she couldn't bring herself to look at it.