“I wish it were that simple.” Olimpia muttered, then changed the subject. “What time are you being picked up tomorrow?”
Returning to her stool, Diane said, “I don’t think I should go.”
“Gabriel has helped you get into all the Amazon countries. You should go.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” Losing Vincent had made her emotionally vulnerable in every sense of the word. And she didn’t feel up to testing whether the attraction that erupted in Quito was caused by the Shaman’s potion alone.
Olimpia tried to reason with her: “They are powerful men. Such a slight would not go unnoticed.”
“Gabriel had mentioned dinner in an email; nothing definite. Then yesterday Carlos phoned and invited me to their island for the weekend. He was just being polite. I’ll phone him and tell him something came up.”
Diane thought she saw a wisp of fear pass Olimpia’s eyes but dismissed it. She shook her head. “Me, alone on Carrera island with two men?”
Olimpia laughed. “I think you will be far from alone. They have a staff the size of a small army out there. And at least half of them are female.”
Diane’s face brightened. “I’ll ask Carlos to invite you too. I’d feel more comfortable then.”
Olimpia stood up, walked around the granite-topped island and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. Returning to her stool, she sat down heavily and looked Diane in the eye. Her voice was firm. “You will be perfectly safe out there. Do not seek an invitation on my behalf. I do not move around in the Carreras’ society.”
Diane opened her mouth to protest, but sensed there was no point in pressuring her. She held up her palms in submission. “Okay, okay. I’ll go alone.
μ CHAPTER THIRTY THREE μ
The next morning Olimpia drove Diane to the Seaport Marina in Oranjestad where she was scheduled to meet the Carrera’s motor launch. Diane had fully charged her cell phone battery and they agreed she’d call the next day when she was approaching Aruba.
The forty-foot launch arrived precisely at eleven. The boat’s wooden hull was varnished like antique furniture. The large open cockpit had a covered forward area that served as a pilothouse with raised seats on either side of the companionway stairs that led down into a cabin. The steering wheel and instruments were located in front of the port seat. The wiry captain jumped onto the dock, tied up the boat then approached Diane. “Doc-tor Rose?”
“How did you know?”
He smiled. “By the picture, Senora.” He extended a weathered hand. “I am Fernando.”
Diane shook his hand. “I am happy to meet you, Fernando.” She tried not to look puzzled, but didn’t remember Gabriel ever taking a picture of her.
Fernando took Diane’s overnight bag and helped her aboard. She looked from bow to stern and experienced a feeling of well being; it was good to be on a boat again. The Carreras had offered to transport her by helicopter, but she chose the sea route to the island. Fernando untied the lines, jumped aboard and pushed off. He handled the boat with ease, steering it along the channel, following the navigational markers, giving wide berth to an arriving cruise ship.
Diane looked back at the city. The palm trees and glitz of Aruba’s capital contrasted sharply with the rugged interior. She studied the colorful resorts, casinos, restaurants and boutiques that crowded the waterfront and looked forward to doing some shopping when she returned.
Fernando exited the harbor and followed the coastline to the northwest. Diane leaned across the companionway. “You speak English very well.”
Fernando beamed. “My parents took me from Cuba to the United States when I was very young. I grew up in Miami where I learned all about boats. I met Senor Gabriel at a marina there when he was passing through.”
“You are very good at boat handling… I’ve had some boating experience.” She hoped for an invitation to take the wheel.
He looked over at her. “That is good,” he said, then turned back to his steering.
She’d have to be a little more direct. “Do you ever let guests steer? As long as you’re watching them, I mean.”
Fernando raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses. “You would like to take the wheel?”
“I would love to.”
Fernando clicked some controls and slid from his seat. “She is on autopilot.” He gestured for Diane to sit behind the wheel. Diane happily settled into the helmsman’s seat.
“She will be easy for you to handle now. But soon we will come out from behind the protection of the island. Then we will be exposed to the winds and waves of the open sea. So, do not get too relaxed.” He clicked off the autopilot and pointed to the compass. “Stay on a heading of two eight zero. Depending on seaway, that should take us to the south end of Carrera Island.”
Diane gripped the steering wheel, checked the compass then looked through the windshield at the expanse of sea ahead.
Fernando pointed over the port bow toward a dark mound on the horizon. “That is our destination,” he said.
The wind began whistling. The waves swelled. The boat rolled slightly. Diane tightened her grip. Fernando told her to turn up wind a little more. She corrected course.
Built for heavy weather, the boat muscled her way through the growing seas. Diane gave Fernando a thumbs-up. She could only remember being this exhilarated on a sailboat. But she shook off those memories and concentrated on her steering.
Just as the waves began spilling their crests, Diane steered the boat into the lee of Carrera Island. What a ride it had been. She looked forward to the trip back.
The island presented as a rocky mass jutting from the sea. As they neared its cliffs, Fernando took the wheel praising Diane’s “helmsmanship.” Then he became the tour guide.
He pointed to a one-story white stucco house on the cliff to their right. It was Gabriel Carrera’s house. His father Carlos lived in a hacienda on the other end by the harbor, Fernando told Diane.
They passed a settlement of small pink stucco and wood houses. “That is where I live,” he said proudly.
Now they approached the marina. It was tucked into a C-shaped curve of stone that must have been twenty-five feet high. Just then a helicopter approached from the south with the obvious intention of landing on the island.
“The pilot is Santos. He and Senor Gabriel are bringing the other guests who will be spending the day.”
“Other guests?”
“They are some dignitaries who were invited to meet you.”
“Oh, great,” Diane said, raking her fingers through her hair, “I need a hairbrush.” She jumped down the steps into the cabin to retrieve her overnight bag.
Fernando had turned into the harbor by the time Diane climbed back up to the cockpit. Ahead she saw the starboard side of an enormous yacht and to the left, up on the cliff, a magnificent white stone mansion overlooked the harbor.
“Wow,” she said.
Fernando pointed to the yacht. “That is the Maria. She is named for Senor Carlos’s deceased wife. They say Maria was a great lady. She is also a great ship.” His chest puffed out. “I am her captain.”
Diane smiled admiringly at Fernando. “You’re a fortunate man.”
Fernando nodded gravely as he steered toward the dock. “I was lucky to be available when Jaime, her first captain, went away. Jaime was not so lucky I guess.”
Carlos Carrera wore his tropical whites to greet Diane when she stepped from the launch. He kissed her hand and welcomed her in a near reverential tone. As in their first meeting, Senor Carrera’s Old World charm made her wish she had been born in another era.