Chapter 32
Once aboard the bus, Erin and Mack choose seats in the back, while Trevor and Molly sat closer to the front.
It was the perfect vantage point for Erin to keep an eye on their progress. She felt a bit like Miss Marple or another of those female TV show investigators from years gone by, spying on a suspect.
‘So this is a standard offering of the resort?’ Mack’s words interrupted her thoughts.
He was seated next to the window, which was closed because of the air-conditioning.
His knapsack was nestled on his lap. It was black and had so many pockets you could surely lose something in it, Erin thought as she watched him sifting through the larger of the sections.
‘Yes. It’s a cultural option The Palms offers all of its guests and, if it’s good enough, I’m going to recommend it be included in the welcome package for no extra charge.’
Mack made a face. ‘If it’s good enough? So you haven’t taken it yourself then?’ he asked, pulling out a camera and proceeding to check the lens, ensuring everything was as it should be.
‘Not yet. Like I said, I do my research,’ she said, as they pulled out of the lot.
Their first stop was Castries, the St Lucia capital and the hub of business and government.
The streets were filled with people going about their daily lives.
Everywhere you looked there was colour. The buildings, though painted in bright yellows, blues, and every other colour of the rainbow, still retained their colonial style, making you feel as if you’d stepped back in time.
There was an inner rhythm to the city, which called to you to join it. Erin could see it on the faces of every passenger as they entered the road leading to their destination.
Including Mack, whose grin radiated as he watched people walking by.
The Castries Central Market was an open-air marketplace with an entrance that vaguely reminded Erin of some kind of old church, with its lattice trim and old Roman numeral clock face out front.
The market itself already hummed like a living organism as they disembarked the bus.
People were going in and out; vendors were set up outside, all speaking so quickly in a mixture of English and Creole that Erin could hardly keep up with what they were saying.
Trevor’s voice caught her attention from nearby as he advised Molly to stay close and Erin watched with satisfaction as he took her hand and led her into the market.
‘Look here,’ Mack called then, and the minute she turned around a camera shutter clicked.
‘What was that?’ she asked, her brow knitting in surprise.
‘Never had your picture taken before?’ The camera was still obscuring part of his face, but Erin could see he was smiling.
‘Of course I have. I mean, why are you taking my picture?’
‘If I like a subject I’ll shoot it,’ he replied simply. Then he looked up from behind the lens. ‘I see your matchmaking seems to be working anyway.’ He inclined his head in the direction in which Molly and Trevor had disappeared.
She shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Do your skills work as well for yourself, I wonder?’ he asked, and she had to find the breath that had mysteriously left her lungs when he spoke. The low lilt of his voice and the look in his eyes almost made her forget how to speak.
‘Why do you ask?’ she questioned, turning on her heel to follow the rest of the group into the market. She could hear his rapid footfall behind her.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Mack continued to press, falling in step beside her.
‘Are you trying to find out if I’m seeing someone?’ she dared to ask, but wasn’t bold enough to look him in the eye.
‘I guess I am,’ he replied, snapping a photo of a nearby vendor selling handcrafted wooden masks. ‘Are you going to answer?’
Erin debated. Wasn’t this conversation now blurring the lines of professionalism? Wasn’t she supposed to be getting him on side on behalf of the resort?
She herself wasn’t part of the package after all.
‘Short answer? No.’ She probably shouldn’t have followed up, but her mouth overrode her mind. ‘You?’
‘Nope,’ Mack replied casually as he took another photo.
This time it was of a little girl playing with her doll as she perched beside a woman selling various natural oils.
His answer had been simple and direct, but the look in his eyes that accompanied it was anything but.
What she thought she saw there made her stomach knot.
Was Mack interested in more than the resort?
Stop it. Focus.
Erin reminded herself of her responsibility, but that didn’t explain why she was letting him take her hand.
She hadn’t even realised when Mack’s fingers had curled around hers, but she did notice how good it felt as he began to lead her into the market as if he wanted to shield her from the bustling crowds.
That was silly, of course. Why would he care about her?
The market was a cacophony of sounds issuing from the seemingly never-ending ocean of stalls.
There were so many that she didn’t know where to begin, but thankfully Mack seemed to have ideas of his own.
She followed after him as he weaved among the schools of people who were going about their business or shopping.
Every so often, he stopped to look at one item or another, releasing her hand for a moment before taking it again. She missed the feel of his fingers each time he did so, which only made her more confused.
‘Here,’ he commented as they stopped in front of the stall selling an assortment of handcrafted jewellery.
He plucked a colourful rubber band and a sturdier one woven in a thread from their resting places.
Each had ‘St Lucia’ inscribed on them, one in the thread and the other etched into the rubber face.
‘Which one?’ he asked, holding them up.
‘That one,’ she replied, pointing to the funky woven option with the island name written in bands of red, black, and yellow against a gradient of green thread.
‘I thought as much,’ Mack smirked before turning to the vendor. ‘How much?’
‘Three dollars—’ the woman replied, but Erin interrupted.
‘Mack, if I want it, I’ll buy it myself,’ she stated and immediately unclasped her bag to search for her purse.
There was plenty enough to confuse their current situation without him buying her gifts.
Her words were in vain, however, as by the time she’d plucked the bills out, he had already purchased the bracelet and was handing it to her.
‘Take it.’
‘I could have bought it myself,’ she continued to protest and again she was ignored.
‘It’s nothing. Just a trinket. Let’s move on to the next stall, shall we?’ he suggested and again her fingers were enclosed by his as he led her down a narrow aisle.
‘Do you know where you’re going?’ she asked as he weaved through the traders.
‘Nope,’ he replied nonchalantly and kept walking.
‘I thought I was supposed to be giving you a tour.’
‘Knowing where you’re going doesn’t matter. It’s the journey that counts,’ he stated and looked over his shoulder at her. ‘Besides it isn’t like we could get lost in here. The bus is right outside.’
I’m lost enough as it is.
This man had been bewitching her since she first laid eyes on him, and Erin seemed powerless to stop it. She knew she should; that only a fool would feel anything for Mack given the circumstances, but again, right from the start, all she seemed to do was make a fool of herself.
They left the market half an hour later, each laden with a souvenir or trinket to commemorate the visit.
Erin had her bracelet and two pairs of shell earrings, while Molly showed off a pair of finely crafted mahogany candle holders she’d bought for her apartment back in New York.
Trevor and Mack were busy talking about the sights they’d seen and interesting people they’d met. They too had their haul. Trevor devoured a segment of the ‘five fingers’ carambola fruit as it was called by the locals, while Mack shared a sample.
Though he still seemed more preoccupied with the contents of his camera than with food.
The bus then visited several other city sites throughout the day, including the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Castries, located in Walcott Square.
Then on to the Governor’s Mansion for a bird’s eye view of the property from the hill behind.
A beautifully ornate building where the current governor of the island resided, tourists weren’t allowed to go in, but the view from above was spectacular, and beyond the mansion was the port where several cruise ships were berthed.
As the tour wound its way back toward the coast, they sampled more local fruits fresh from a nearby farm. The vendor, the farmer himself, had hand-picked bananas and ackees, mango, and papaya that very morning.
In the nearby town of Anse La Raye, a quaint fishing village, they sampled the tangy sweetness of tamarind juice in Johnny Cakes, a local cornmeal flatbread and cheese.
Like Castries, the buildings there were all brightly coloured and ornate in structure.
Everywhere in St Lucia seemed to have some semblance of its bygone days.
Their final stop of the day was Toraille Waterfalls, where several of the guests donned bathing suits and enjoyed the green, algae-coloured pool.
Large elephant plants, palms, ferns, and other shrubs lined the rocky walls and path, and once again Mack had his camera in hand and, several times, Erin suspected that he’d taken more pictures of her.
Still, she didn’t protest, and when he eventually asked Trevor and Molly to join in for a photo, she willingly complied.
Posing, she wrapped her arm around Molly’s shoulder, as Trevor positioned himself at her back, with his arm wound around her waist.
Mack then asked someone else to take the camera so he could join them. He positioned himself behind Erin, and she felt her heart automatically quicken in response as his arm wound around her waist, the flat of his palm against her stomach.
She held her breath at the contact and looked over her shoulder at him, and their eyes met.
The intensity she found there wasn’t alarming, it was dizzying and she barely managed a smile before the camera clicked, capturing two couples whose fates had somehow intersected on this magnificent island.
Yet given the circumstances, what could their futures realistically hold?