Читать книгу Prize of a Lifetime - Donna Hill, Donna Hill - Страница 11

The skyline of St. John’s, the capital of Antigua, was dominated by the white baroque towers of St. John’s Cathedral. Bright, candy-colored architecture dotted the narrow roads like sprinkles on an ice cream cone, giving the entire atmosphere a feeling of carefree frivolity.

The streets teemed with people, both locals and tourists, meandering in and out of shops and eateries.

Sasha and Mitchell merged with the crowds taking in the sights, sounds and smells, and when they were repeatedly cut off by passersby, Mitchell took her hand.

“Don’t want to lose you,” he said, and her heart nearly stopped.

His hand tightened around hers and everything seemed to disappear except for the two of them. They bumped hips and thighs as they walked and laughed, stopping in the open-air market to sample island fruit before moving on toward the Museum of Antigua and Barbuda.

Mitchell opened the door to the museum, which was housed in the circa-1750 Colonial Courthouse, and they were immediately enveloped in the cool oasis of the space.

“It’s not the High Museum,” Mitchell said, referring to the museum in Atlanta, “but it paints a great picture of the island and its history.”

The museum held an array of fascinating exhibits—from diagrams of the island’s formative volcano to displays of local cuisine, from cassava-preparation techniques to the amazing shells whose abundance made them a ready medium for artists. There was a replica of a sugar plantation along with the history of slavery on the island and emancipation as well as the actual bat used by Viv Richards, the national cricket hero.

“These are beautiful,” Sasha said, her voice almost reverent as she examined shells crafted into unique pieces of jewelry.

“Pretty amazing,” he said softly, watching her and thinking that the sparkling beauty of the shells paled in comparison to her.

They wandered around some more before going back out into the early-afternoon sun.

“That was great,” Sasha said, bobbing her head as she slid her sunglasses up on her nose. “Thanks.”

“It gives a pretty good history of the island. The replica of the sugar plantation was pretty humbling.”

“Yes,” she said in slow agreement. “It’s amazing how the Antiguans were able to establish, build and maintain the roots of their culture for generations.”

“It’s refreshing to meet a woman you can talk to about issues beyond ‘Where are we going for dinner?’” he said.

Sasha glanced at him. “So are you saying you just like me for my mind?”

The corner of his full mouth curved slightly upward and his voice lowered an octave. “I’d say I like you for your mind and everything that comes along with it.”

Warmth rushed through her and her stomach fluttered. Their gazes held for a moment, communicating things they weren’t quite ready to say but definitely felt.

He took her hand. “Come on, let’s grab some lunch. I know this great outdoor café a few blocks away.”

Sasha and Mitchell spent the rest of the afternoon talking about everything, from the books they loved, to movies, politics, religion and relationships.

She learned that Mitchell actually grew up on the south side of Chicago. His father worked for the post office and his mother was a nurse. They’d struggled, never had much, but he and his sisters had a good life. He grew up appreciating hard work and what it brought you. He wasn’t particularly religious, but he did believe in a higher power and that you reaped what you sowed.

“Church was always a major part of our life growing up,” Sasha offered. “I still remember the smell of the hot comb and pressing cream that my mother used every Saturday night to get me and my sister, Tristan, presentable for church,” she said, laughing at the memory. “And she’d always tie these big satin bows in our hair. If a strong wind came by we could take right off!”

Mitchell tossed his head back and laughed. “I remember, I remember. My sister used to holler every time my mother broke out that straightening comb. She wore those ribbons, too, and patent leather shoes that my father would shine with Vaseline.”

Sasha doubled over with laughter, and slapped her thigh. “Yes! Yes!”

They both hooted at the memories of the hysterical images.

“Whew,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Those were the days.”

“Yes, they were.” He casually slipped his arm around her shoulder as they continued to walk.

Sasha held her breath for an instant then slowly relaxed under the comforting weight of his arm, fitting perfectly along the contours of his body.

“Have any plans for this evening?” Mitchell asked as they drew closer to the resort.

“Hmmm, no, not really. I need to make some calls, that’s about it.”

“How ’bout we take a boat ride? The mountainsides are pretty spectacular from the water.”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“They serve dinner on deck, music…”

“Can’t wait.”

He swallowed over the sudden tightness in his throat. “Neither can I.” He walked her to her door. “Bring something for your shoulders. It can get a bit breezy on the water.”

She wanted to tell him that she’d prefer his arms, but instead she said, “Good idea. Thanks.”

“So I’ll knock on your door about seven. We’ll catch a ride from the drivers up front. The boat takes off at eight-thirty.”

She nodded. “I’ll be ready.” She stuck her key in the door and opened it before turning back to look up into his eyes. “Thanks for a great day,” she said breathlessly.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her right ear. “See you later.” He went into his room.

The instant she was behind closed doors she spun around in a circle of delight before flopping down faceup on the bed. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her insides were beaming. She rolled over, reached for her purse and took out her cell phone. A call to her family was long overdue and the last thing she wanted was to get a call from home at the wrong time. She dialed the restaurant, knowing that’s where she would find her mother. With any luck, her father and sister would be there too, and she could fulfill her obligations in one fell swoop.

The phone rang several times while Sasha replayed her day with Mitchell.

It took her mother shouting, “Hello,” into the phone to snap Sasha from her daydream. She sprang up on the bed. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“It’s about time you called. I was getting worried.”

“Everything is fine. The hotel is great, the weather is perfect and I’m finding my way around the island.”

Her mother huffed. “Still don’t see why you had to go so far.”

“Ma…please…” She paused a moment, refusing to let her mother’s negativity wear away her joy. “How’re Dad and Tristan?”