24. from above
from above
MARLEY
I wake up to the sun rising. I don’t think I will ever get over this view. It’s so serene and peaceful watching Mother Nature do her thing.
For once, my mind isn’t racing ahead of me, and I take a moment to enjoy the solitude. The night before was something I didn’t even know I needed. And it felt good sharing that moment with Othello.
There is a knock at the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. Who the hell could that be?
I hear Othello’s manly footsteps heading to the door as I get up. I wonder how long he’s been awake. I reach for my robe, tying it tight around my waist as I step from the bedroom and into the living room, watching Othello’s strong back flex as he peeks through the peephole.
Damn, this man is fine.
He pulls the door open, and Pika is standing there with a small rolling tray. There are two polished stainless-steel plates topped with silver cloches, along with a matching pitcher. In between them is a beautiful arrangement of flowers and a thick cream envelope.
“Good morning,” Pika greets.
“Hey, Pika. What is all this?” I gasp in confusion.
“Delivery from Collette Randolph.” He walks into the room, rolling the tray inside with him. He sets everything on the balcony table, including the flowers and the envelope.
“Enjoy,” he says and leaves just as fast as he came.
“What did we do to deserve this?” Othello asks, pulling out a chair and motioning for me to take a seat at the bistro table. I do, and he sits in the seat across from me, both of us staring at everything in wonder.
“Should we open the card first?” I ask.
“Yeah, be my guest.”
I pick up the wax-sealed envelope and slide my finger beneath the flap. I unfold the card inside and read it out loud.
Marley & Othello,
The island is best seen from above. Enjoy breakfast and meet your driver outside at 10:30 a.m.
— Collette
“From above?”
“A helicopter tour, maybe?” Othello wonders.
My body fills with a mix of dread and excitement.
“Scared?” he asks, teasingly.
“Did you forget the way I felt on that plane?”
“I don’t think I can forget that one.”
I scoff. “Well, this definitely beats my vacation agenda tenfold.”
Othello laughs, and we both pull the silver dome covers from our plates. Layers of fluffy pancakes with blueberries stacked in between them, tropical fruit, and eggs Benedict topped with a creamy sauce are neatly arranged on a porcelain plate.
“This looks amazing.”
“It does. Shall we?” Othello offers.
Why yes, yes, we shall.
For a moment we say nothing, indulging in the food, the pancakes melting like butter in my mouth. “You know,” I mumble around another bite of berries and fluffy bread. “I hate that I’m enjoying all these luxuries and you’re not.”
“How am I not?”
“I mean the couch situation. You’re sleeping on a sofa while I have that big comfy bed all to myself.”
He laughs. “I’m good. Trust me. It’s all about you feeling comfortable.”
“I don’t feel comfortable knowing you’re sleeping on the couch.”
“So, what are you saying? I get to sleep in the bed with you?”
“With pillows stacked between us, but yes.”
He seems pleased, stuffing his mouth with more food before saying, “Well, I appreciate it, Ms. Jacobs. But I promise you, I would have been fine on the couch.”
“You can’t be serious. When you feel how comfy that mattress is, you’ll change your mind.”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “I assure you, it would have been okay. But trust me, I’m not turning it down.”
I give him an incredulous look. “I would hope not. Why would you do a thing like that?”
“Because when you’re happy, you smile. And your smile does something reckless to me.”
The last thing I want to do after that comment is smile, but I can’t help myself. One slips out before I can stop it.
A sleek black Mercedes picks us up promptly at 10:30 in front of the resort. We are whisked away through the beautiful island, my mouth hanging open as I take in the sheer beauty that is Maui. Beautiful isn’t even enough to describe how amazing this place is.
The driver takes us through paved roads that eventually narrow, curving along cliffs and dipping into a tropical forest until we turn onto a private gravel drive lined with tall grass. Ahead, in a wide clearing, sits a bright red helicopter, its blades still, sunlight glinting off the windshield.
My stomach drops and flips at the same time.
A short woman with a jet-black bob stands nearby. I assume she is our pilot. The headset resting around her neck and the utility jumpsuit give it away. She offers us an easy smile as we step out of the car.
“Good morning, I’m Kim. Welcome.”
We greet her and shake hands.
“Are you nervous?” she asks me.
“Is it that obvious?” I laugh nervously.
Kim assures us we have nothing to fear. She’s been flying helicopters for over 15 years.
She walks us through a quick safety briefing of seatbelts, headsets, and how to communicate once we’re airborne.
Then asks if we want the doors off or on, and of course I tell her on.
The windows are large enough to see everything I need to see.
Seatbelt or not, I do not need nor want the off-door experience.
Othello helps me into the helicopter, his hand on the small of my back. The small, simple gesture quivers through every inch of my limbs every single time he does that.
Inside the helicopter, it’s snug, our shoulders brushing once we’re strapped in.
The headset swallows my ears, muting the outside world.
When I feel the aircraft vibrate and hear the blades above us rotate with a rhythmic thunder, I squeeze my eyes closed, my nerves rattling viciously.
Othello grabs my hand, and it’s déjà vu all over again.
The ground slips from beneath us, and we’re floating, up, up, and away. I lean in closer, gripping Othello’s arm with my free hand.
“You should open both eyes,” he says, laughing. “You’re going to miss the views.”
I open both of my eyes this time.
Adrenaline surges through me at the fact that we’re in this confined space and thousands of feet in the air.
Everything is shrinking and looking like a gorgeous tropical postcard.
I admire everything before my eyes. The rainforests, rolling hills, palm trees, and endless stretches of turquoise.
Kim’s voice filters through the headset, pointing out valleys and lava fields that were shaped centuries ago.
My fear disappears the longer we’re up here.
“You having fun yet?” Othello asks.
“I am. This is really nice.”
“This is one of the best ways to see all of Hawaii,” Kim tells us.
“This view was worth the peek, right?”
I laugh, agreeing with him.
I grip his hand a little tighter. No longer holding on because I’m scared, but because I don’t want to let go.