After the End Read online

  Her legs had slowly and without warning collapsed under her and she had sunk down on the floor of the verandah, upending one of Miss Lou's potted plants. Dan had crouched beside her. The thought that Isaiah was referred to as a body ricocheted through her mind and she wanted to tell Robinson to shut up.

  Stop speaking…it wasn't true. This wasn't happening. She needed time to process it. She needed time to wake up.

  Her phone rang, dragging her into the present, and she looked across at it on her dresser. She was not getting up to answer it. There were only two persons who would be calling her at this hour. Her boss, Chef Brown, who was the executive chef for the Sea Breeze guesthouse owned by the Lopezes, or Maureen, who was always up early. It was almost time for her to report to work to set up for the breakfast hour.

  Today was Remembrance Day for Maureen too; she had also found out that her husband died. When she had found out that Greg was dead her reaction had been much different. She had gone into premature labor and was taken to the hospital. She had a baby girl who hadn't survived, but Maureen was much stronger; she had bounced back, far quicker than Colleen.

  Even now, five years later, Colleen wondered if she had really stopped grieving. She hasn’t dated since and was still living in Miss Lou's house, still much a part of the Reid family. She was living as if Isaiah would come back.

  Unlike her, Maureen had gotten married three years ago and had gone to college and had gotten her business degree, though she didn't use it. She was a fancy housewife now, mistress of her mansion. She had joined the ladies who lunch and knew more about brand names and fancy restaurants than Colleen could account for. Her new husband, Tucker, was a big deal in one of those banks and he loved her to distraction. He had even adopted Greg Junior.

  Maureen had recently given birth to twins and she rarely came back to the Whitehouse community. Her life in Kingston was too busy and Colleen suspected that she didn't want to be reminded of her time here with Greg. Maureen had effectively and conclusively moved on, unlike her, the woman who was afraid of change.

  The phone stopped ringing and she closed her eyes. She wanted fifteen minutes more to herself. Just fifteen.

  When the phone rang again she sighed and got up, grabbing it resentfully.

  "Morning," she mumbled.

  "Good morning," Maureen said chirpily. "I know you are up; stop pretending."

  "Yes, I was up, reminiscing. Today is the day for that." Colleen took the phone to the bathroom with her.

  "You reminisce every day. You need to come and spend a weekend with us," Maureen said. "Why not this weekend?"

  Colleen tucked the phone under her chin and put some toothpaste on her toothbrush. "No. You are going to try to set me up with one of Tucker's posh friends."

  "And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that." Maureen was unrepentant. "I carefully choose whomever I am going to introduce you to. I don't choose middle-aged divorced men who just want a trophy wife. I make sure that they are young enough and handsome enough to suit you. A lot of thought goes into my matchmaking efforts, you know."

  "No thanks," Colleen garbled, her mouth full with paste. "I am fine."

  "You are not fine," Maureen said stubbornly. "You need to come out of that community for a while and live a little."

  "I did that," Colleen reminded her friend. "You forced me to take that hospitality course. I did it. I was out of the community for six months. I even did the chef thing that you paid for. Thanks, by the way. Chef Brown is now allowing me to do French toast and they have started calling me a breakfast cook. Quite a step up from washing dishes."

  Maureen chuckled. "And to think you said you would never work for the Lopezes."

  "It was either that or stay here and think about Isaiah all day." Colleen sighed. "Besides, my salary helps out with the children, especially Dan. Dan is finishing high school; I don't want him to go into fishing. So I am really happy that he wants to become a doctor."

  "But what about you?" Maureen asked. "The Reids are not really your family anymore. You are still young and gorgeous. You need to find another husband. It's been five years.” She cleared her throat and Colleen tensed up for what was coming next. When Maureen was on the warpath like this, she usually had something up her sleeve.

  "Tucker's friend Irwin is begging me to get you to be a model for his aromatherapy company. He says you have the right look."

  "Not this again, Maureen." Colleen chucked her nightdress into the clothes hamper and stepped into the shower. "I am putting you on speaker phone," she shouted, putting the phone in the shower caddy.

  Maureen didn't mind that she was on speaker; she kept on talking about Colleen's oddities.

  Colleen wished that Maureen had chosen a different day to give her one of her regular lectures about moving on.

  "I wish I could do more for you, Colleen. You are my best friend." Maureen's voice sounded far away as Colleen turned on the shower.

  Colleen closed her eyes. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Her friend had grieved for six months, assessed her situation, brushed off herself and then moved on. Though she lost a child, she still had Greg's son to live for and had gotten on with the business of life. She had met Tucker soon after that and they had gotten married.

  She always felt as if Maureen was a whirlwind of energy that couldn't stay in one place for long; she had it together. Colleen, on the other hand, was just the sedate friend who was a little bit too stuck in the past…stuck on Isaiah.

  Colleen closed her eyes. It wasn't even Isaiah, as such...it was the thought of Isaiah, the thought of failed dreams, and the plans that they had made together that would never see the light of day.

  There was also that cold knot when she thought about the fact that she wouldn't see him again and that breathless feeling of sadness that caught her at the wrong time.

  Even Miss Lou, his mother, had moved on. She had opened a cook-shop near the bay that catered to fisherfolk, and it was doing well. She didn't speak about Isaiah with as much frequency as she did before, and even she was urging Colleen to find somebody new.

  Colleen wondered if that was because she wanted her to move out of the house. Maybe she wanted to rent it out. She sighed. Lately, Miss Lou was becoming like Maureen, pushy and nagging.

  "Grief counseling." She heard Maureen say when she was in the process of drying off. "You probably need it."

  Colleen took the phone off speaker and clutched it to her ear. "I don't need grief counseling. I have grieved."

  Maureen said wearily, "Colleen, be honest with me. Do you still think Isaiah is going to come back?"

  Colleen shook her head, then looked at herself in the mirror…caught in her lie. She turned her back to the mirror. "I don't know."

  Maureen sighed. "Denial. Pure denial. It's part of the grief process. I understand that, but girl, you need to get to the other stages. It's high time. Five years is a long time to be waiting for the same man. He's dead, and you are very much alive. You make me feel guilty sometimes. I married Tucker nine months after Greg died and there you are still in denial, still grieving."

  Colleen swallowed. "What if I never get to the rest of the stages? What if I like denial? Maybe I'll be old and gray, hobbling on my stick, and still be in denial."

  "You had better not like it," Maureen insisted, her tone softening. "You are my project. I will see to it that you get there."

  Colleen laughed reluctantly. "I don't want to be your project. I am terrified of you and your sophisticated ways."

  "You shouldn't be terrified; you should be happy that I am sophisticated, or else you would still be wearing those hideous dresses and shoes from your teens." Maureen grunted. "Now, I have a friend who is driving through Whitehouse on Friday, on her way to Kingston. I am going to ask her to pick you up, so be ready. I am also going to tell Irwin that you will do the photo shoot on Monday for his aromatherapy thing, which means you need to ask for the day off from Chef Brown. Got that?"

  "Yes, you big, bad bully
. Remember to tell Irwin that I am not a professional and I don't know the first thing about modeling."

  "He knows," Maureen said triumphantly. "And he doesn't care. He really likes your look. I am so looking forward to seeing you, Colleen."

  "Likewise. Kiss the kids for me," Colleen said, hanging up the phone.

  She only agreed to do the photo shoot and the weekend away because after their talk of grief and denial she realized that Maureen was right. She felt as if she was suffocating in the small room.

  She hadn't changed it much since Isaiah died. She hadn't even packed away his things, except to give his brother Dan a few of his shirts. She didn't want to touch anything.

  His boots were still in the corner she polished them every Friday. She had put his shirts in plastic and hung them under the closet. Even his half bottle of Brut perfume was at the same place on the dresser, and she placed his brush in the exact same spot that he would place it. Pictures of both of them littered the room.

  She needed to do something about it but she wasn't ready. She didn't know if she would ever be ready.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she closed them tightly. If she thought hard enough she could see Isaiah's face. In her mind’s eye he was smiling, his full bottom lip drawn across straight white teeth, his deep-set eyes probing into hers.

  He always wanted to know what she was thinking, and what she was feeling, as if his universe centered on her. She could almost imagine his touch, his long tapered fingers and calloused palms as they caressed her skin. He liked to run his fingers along her skin, just to caress her and feel their differences.

  He always made plans when he was brushing his hair by the dresser. He kept his curly hair tall at the top and shaved at the sides. He shared his dreams with her; he plotted and planned what they were going to do next with their life. How he would buy a bigger boat and haul more fish. How he would build a house on the piece of land near the sea, quite close to where Miss Lou had her restaurant now. It was land that his grandmother had left for them in her will.

  He planned how they would have an open floor plan, where their room would open to the sea so that they could go to sleep with the sea as it rhythmically lulled them to bed.

  "Do you like the idea Colleen?" He would turn toward her.

  "Yes," she whispered. "I like it."

  She opened her eyes reluctantly. "I like it." she whispered to the empty room.

  Maybe it really was time to reassess her life and spread her wings a little. Old memories brought fresh pain. Maybe a photo shoot would be fun. She had never done anything like that before. At least she would be getting out of the house and away from her memories for a just a little while.

  *****

  Enrique was sitting in his father's spacious Kingston office, listening absentmindedly as his Dad talked about his Whitehouse properties and his plans for them. The Lopezes owned quite a bit of land in the western section of the island and his dad was listing their holdings one by one, asking his opinion on which pieces of land to divest and which to invest in.

  He was feeling jetlagged and slightly under the weather but he had to come to Jamaica because his father had summoned him. This was not a pleasure trip; the family business needed him for the next few weeks.

  He had gone into international real estate on a whim and he realized that he had a certain knack for it. He had spent one year in an established firm and then had decided to start his own real estate firm. He mainly dealt with high-end clients. It was lucrative, it was fun and he got to spend time in exotic places showing high-end property to seriously rich people.

  "Your mother is in Whitehouse, as usual. She wants you to see the new villas and to list them with your company as short-term rentals to persons looking for luxury," his father said, obviously dispensing with business and getting personal.

  "And of course, we want you to join us for a while. We hardly see you, Mr. Globetrotter." His father looked at him admiringly. "I am proud that you have struck out on your own but a piece of me wants you home running things."

  Enrique chuckled. "You are hardly in your dotage, Dad, and I am not looking forward to butting heads with you and Renata here in the office. I like being my own boss. Where is my big sis, by the way?"

  "She is helping Irwin with some advertising today. It’s for a new joint venture. They are starting up an aromatherapy line of products, or something of the sort."

  "Ah," Enrique steepled his fingers. "Irwin the banker, Renata's on-again, off-again boyfriend, is into aromatherapy? That's interesting."

  "It was Renata's idea, I think." Franco shrugged. "Irwin hopped onto it. Renata wants to sell some of the products at our hotel shops and to give them away as welcoming presents at our guesthouses. She's just down the road from us, at the Pegasus Hotel, Suite 2. Go say hi before you head for Whitehouse. I think they are doing a photo shoot."

  "I might just stop by." Enrique got up. "See you this weekend, then?"

  "Yes," Franco Lopez got up too, and came around the desk, giving his son a bear hug. "Glad to see you."

  Enrique hugged him back. They were the same height now, six feet. In his childhood he had thought his father was a giant. He gripped him affectionately. "It's always a pleasure to come home, Dad."

  "By the way," his father said as he walked him to the door. "We have assigned to you Villa number three. You have your own butler and housekeeper, if you want."

  "Sounds luxurious." Enrique gave him a thumbs-up. "I can't wait to see what you guys did with the villas, I am sure it is nice." A feeling of anticipation zinged in his bones. He had just gotten back from Bali; white sand beaches were a dime a dozen there but somehow he was anticipating going back to Whitehouse way more than he should.

  Maybe he would see her. Colleen Perry. See if he was right and the years were unkind to her. He had never quite gotten around to deleting her picture from his laptop. The old laptop was still sitting in his apartment in New York. He had been tempted to take the picture and put on his new laptop but had resisted. What good would come of that?

  He had had several short-term girlfriends since then. Mostly professionals like himself who had no time for commitment and long-term relationships, but as usual his thoughts always seemed to ping-pong to Colleen, whoever he was with. Wherever in the world he was, his thoughts always came back to her. He had long given up the thought of questioning why that was.

  He disarmed the alarm on the car that his father had given him to drive around and sat down in the plush interior. Should he or shouldn't he say hi to Renata? He would be seeing her this weekend anyway. His mom would make sure that they had a family get-together over at the family house, Hibiscus Lodge.

  He passed the Pegasus and then doubled back. There was no harm in checking in on Renata; after all, he hadn't seen her in ages.

  Chapter Three

  Colleen was feeling overwhelmed and a little daunted by the prospect of doing a photo shoot. She was greeted at the entrance of the hotel suite by Irwin. He was a tall, thin guy who wore a wide smile. When she first met him at Maureen's place over dinner, he had made her uncomfortable with his piercing stare, but now he was going all out to make her feel comfortable.

  "Thank you so much for agreeing to do this shoot for us," he was saying, holding onto Colleen's hand, "and to you too, of course, Maureen, for introducing us to the perfect girl," he said, turning to Maureen.

  Maureen grinned. "Don't thank me yet. I think Colleen is on the verge of running out of here. I had to bribe her to come today. I had to promise that I would not interfere in her life for the next six months. That's a long time for me; it will be a great sacrifice."

  Irwin laughed and then looked at Colleen, amusement still in his eyes. "Please don't run away. It's just a simple shoot. We think you have the perfect face for this. Don't we, Renata?"

  Colleen swiftly turned her head to look behind Irwin toward a lady with a pencil stuck behind her ears. She had short-cropped wavy hair and wide gray-green eyes. She looked at Colleen, a gle
am of admiration in her eyes, and nodded vigorously.

  "Hi, I am Renata." She held out her hand to Colleen and shook it vigorously. "You are perfect. Irwin said you had the right look. I was doubtful but I can see that I was wrong and thank God for that…not that I don't think that Irwin has taste…I was just anxious to meet you."

  She put her hand over her heart, which reminded Colleen of one of Maureen's dramatic gestures.

  "Trust me, I kind of doubted that you looked as Irwin said: fresh, innocent with gorgeous skin and that hair. When customers see you on the products they will want to look just like you. And imagine, you look great even without makeup. Amazing."

  Colleen watched Renata, a frisson of familiarity gripping her. Renata's eyes looked very familiar, dark gray with a ring of dark green on the outer part of the irises. They looked very much like Enrique Lopez's eyes.

  She remembered the shade from high school. In a sea of brown eyes, his had stood out. Back then she had only had the chance to see them close up that one time he had told her that she would end up like all the other women in the fishing village.

  She had stared into his eyes that day and felt a magnetic pull that almost had her running for cover. She had been heading for the cafeteria and had stopped, leaned on a tree, and waited for her breath to come back.

  That shameful day she had to admit to herself that she had felt something for somebody other than Isaiah. The feeling had scared her and made her feel disloyal. She hadn't even told Maureen. She couldn't tell anyone. She wasn't even admitting it now in her head. It was just a stray thought.

  Go away, thoughts. She looked at Renata and realized that she had missed most of what was being said while she was ruminating about Enrique Lopez.

  "Wouldn't that be great, Colleen?" Renata asked.

  Maureen poked her. Colleen stopped herself from saying yes automatically. She had learned a long time ago that distracted yeses could get her in trouble. "What, sorry?"