Sun-Kissed Secret Baby by Leigh Jenkins
Chapter 14
Sam sat on the sea wall, jeans-clad legs dangling, frowning down at his phone. He was texting back and forth with Nisha over plans for the upcoming concerts, and although he’d managed to permanently nix her insistence that they engage the services of the soca star, Ladykilla, there was still much to settle. As always, whenever he and his manager butted heads over business strategies, there was an argument. He loved the fact that even though Nisha was technically his subordinate, she never backed down.
He loved even more that she was providing him with a distraction, because this morning he was meeting the daughter he’d never known he had. He was so anxious that he’d barely been able to sleep, and had even come out to the agreed-on spot an hour early, because he knew if he stayed indoors he would go mad.
This was crazy. Most men met their kids when they were moments old, when they could cradle them in their arms and promise them the world. He was meeting his as a fully formed individual, with opinions, ideas, likes and dislikes. What if she disliked him?
When Allie had called, announcing that Daria had asked to meet with him, his spirits had soared… and then plummeted. His head was immediately swamped with what-ifs, and Allie hadn’t been much help when he asked what the child’s frame of mind was.
He pocketed his phone after curtly informing Nisha that he would be offline for a few hours, and instead aimed his worried gaze at the horizon. Normally that calmed him, as surely as meditation calmed many others… but not today.
Easter time was the height of the dry season in Sabina, and the sky was an eye-aching shade of blue: cloudless, never-ending. The enormous yellow sun was punishing, and waves of heat rose from the sand, undulating, blurring everything beyond it. Even the breeze refused to blow, so already Sam could feel beads of perspiration roll down his back.
Moreover, it was Good Friday, and Aqua Camp was closed, so there wasn’t the usual flurry of activity down on the water. Not even the fishermen or sea bathers had ventured out. Despite the welcome respite the water would have brought on such a hot day, many people were avoiding the water because of the pervasive mythologies surrounding the holiday that dwelled in the collective consciousness of the island.
Furthermore, because of Sabina’s history—almost 500 years of occupation by one Catholic or Anglican European country after the next—a large percentage of the population had embraced those faiths, and so, many of the villagers were in church today. The result was an eerie quiet, a kind of pall that settled upon the beach, making Sam even more uneasy.
He kept glancing back to the gateway that led to the resort, chiding himself for doing so because it was just five minutes past ten; Allie and Daria were hardly late.
Then, there they were, walking side by side but noticeably apart. Each carried a backpack as he’d asked, with swimsuit, towel, and a change of clothes. Allie was wearing shorts and a halter top, her hair pulled back and stuffed up into a baseball cap, her eyes shielded by dark shades. Her skin was barer than he’d seen it since she’d arrived, and already he could see that it had been kissed by the sun. She glowed softly, invitingly, like a sun-ripened peach.
He turned his attention to Daria, and his breath hitched. She was also in shorts and a halter top, her legs long and gangly, arms swinging. Her thick hair was loose, fluttering with the movement of her body. She swiveled her head, seeming to search along the length of the beach… looking for him, he figured.
He stood and lifted an arm to draw their attention, hating himself for how anxious he felt. He remembered his first time onstage as a singer, at the age of ten or eleven, how scared he’d been, praying that his audience liked him. First time on the back of a music truck on Carnival Tuesday, singing to thousands of masqueraders in their pretty costumes, all of them bouncing to his beat. First time on a sold-out stadium stage, belting out his original soca songs to tens of thousands of paying patrons, who, in true Sabina style, were fickle as hell. If they loved you, they cheered for you, screamed out your name; some even offered you sex… but if they didn’t like you, you’d better be fast enough to dodge the missiles that would be pelted onstage with extreme prejudice, from beer bottles to rolls of toilet paper.
And he’d never been as scared then as he was now.
Daria spotted him and stopped dead. Sam faced her, wondering what to say. Should he go to her? Or wait for her to come to him?
The girl began moving forward again, and Sam admired the way she held herself, with determination, if not with absolute confidence. When they were within speaking distance, he found his voice. “Good morning. Thank you for coming.”
Allie made the introductions. “Sam, this is Daria. Daria, this is Sam Drummond—”
“I know,” the girl snapped. “I know who he is.”
Sam looked from one to the other in mild surprise; Allie had told him that Daria was angry. To be honest, he didn’t blame her.
He held out his hand, politely, formally, cursing himself because that was such a dork move, but he didn’t know what else to do. She took it, and he could feel how thin her hand was, the fine bones shifting beneath the sapodilla-colored skin, just a shade lighter than his own.
She was so perfect. So beautiful. So strong, even after enduring the infancy that Allie had described. She was a miracle.
He realized his throat hurt and he was desperately thirsty.
She was staring at him as hard as he was staring at her, and when he tried to release her hand, her grip tightened. They were locked into each other, barely aware of Allie shifting nervously on the side.
She spoke first. “Nice eyes.”
“Yours too.”
She grinned at him.
He dropped to his knees because they could no longer hold him up, and put his arms around her, not even caring if he looked like a fool. She embraced him back tightly; he could feel the thin fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt.
Tears stung his eyes. He thought about the little boy he’d been, growing up without a mother, and also felt pain for the years Daria had spent without a dad. He felt a mixture of grief and loss for all the years he’d lost with this beautiful person, and gratitude and delight that she was finally a part of his world. He knew then that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her there, and to be a part of hers.
They broke apart and he got up, but they continued to stare at each other.
“What do you want me to call you?” she asked.
“Whatever you like.” Would she call him Dad? He’d never heard those words directed at him.
She pondered, eyes searching his face, and flicking towards her mother’s face before returning to his. “I think I’ll call you Sam for now.”
“That sounds fine to me.” He’d be a fool to expect any more, given the circumstances, and stupid to push it. He pointed in the direction of the water with a tip of his head. “Do you feel like going for a ride in my boat?”
Her eyes lit up. “I love boats!”
“Uncle Charlie told me you do.” He flashed Allie a smile, feeling a bit sorry for her. She looked like the third wheel at a bike race. “So, shall we go?”
Daria looked at her mother, too, but her expression was far from benign. “Just you and me,” she suggested. “Not her!”
Allie looked stricken, and Sam realized that this was the first time he was being called upon to exercise parental judgment and authority.
Damn, that was fast.
“Your mom has to come too. I’m inviting both of you.”
Daria looked from him to the water with longing, weighing the pros and cons, and her desire to go sailing with him clearly won. “Fine,” she agreed.
Allie looked so bereft he wanted to hug her, but instead, he gestured towards the pier in the distance. “Let’s roll, then.”