Receive Me Falling by Erika Robuck Read Free Book Online Page B

Washington D.C.
to St. Kitts next to a woman heading to the islands with her husband for their
thirtieth wedding anniversary.   The woman
was not sophisticated enough to read Meg’s reluctance to engage; she
misinterpreted Meg’s silence as an invitation to divulge her life story.  
                After the flight, Meg had some time
on St. Kitts while waiting for the ferry to Nevis.   Under any other circumstances this would not
have been a bad thing, but her nerves were frayed, and her need for solitude
was making her frantic.    Meg’s relief
was considerable when she realized that she was the only passenger on the
ferry, and the captain was a reserved, polite old man who sensed and respected
Meg’s need for silence.
                The short boat ride aboard the
Halcyon was like a massage for her soul.   Blue-green water lapped against the vessel, balmy breezes carried marine
smells and birds over the water, and Mount
Nevis’ jungle-covered slopes filled
her view as she approached Charlestown.   The jerky van ride, however, planted her back
into reality.
                Maybe
I should have taken a cruise.
                Meg drained her glass and fell
asleep.

 

 
    Something
awakened Meg.  
                Piano
music?
                She glanced at her watch.
                At
3:00 in the morning?
                She sat up as quickly as her stiff
muscles would allow, ground at her eyes with her fists, and strained her ears
to hear over the breeze and the night song of the bellfrogs.   Palms whipped in the wind, and the ocean
whispered in the distance.   Her eyes
scanned the property, surveying the foliage along the fence for signs of
life.   A vague feeling of uneasiness
crept over Meg.   She shivered and crossed
her arms.
                Meg heard a thump in the grass
nearby, and stood up from the lounger.   Her heart began to race.
    The piano music stopped, as if a distant music box
had quickly been shut.  
                Meg began to back up toward the
house, when a large piece of fruit thumped out of a nearby tree and landed on
the grass in front of her.   Meg laughed
at herself and released her breath.   As
she turned and opened the slider, the sound of piano music once again froze
her.   It sounded canned, slow,
melancholy.   Meg looked over the yard
once more, went into the villa, and locked the door behind her.
    Unable to sleep, Meg decided to explore Havilla’s
eclectic library.   The Bible, Byatt,
Austen, Poe, Woolf, Swords, Ships and
Sugar , Nevis: Queen of the Caribees , Sugar & Slaves —the owners not
only had good taste in literature, but were thoughtful in the reading
selections provided.   Meg poured over the
historical books and guides into the early hours of the morning, finding
herself fascinated with the slave past of the island.
    Black
Devil, Fogcutter, Nightcap —after
Meg’s third rum drink she finally passed out on the ottoman covered in
books.   Not long after, the morning light
made its way into the villa through the sheers.   Diaphanous silk—though beautifully decorative—was a useless barrier to
tropical sun.   Under a heavy hangover,
Meg found her admiration of the window treatments wane.
    After a shower, glass of water, and a double dose
of pain medication, Meg felt ready to start her vacation.   Her headache prevented her from wanting to
sit in the sun, but she was eager to explore the plantation home.   Meg filled a bag with a camera, notebook,
pen, bottled water, pain relievers, and the old photograph of Eden, and began walking out to the road from
the villa.   Though it was early, the sun
was already bearing down on the island.   Meg wiped the sweat from her neck and twisted her hair into a knot which
she secured with her pen.   She admired
the vegetation and began a mental catalogue of the plants she had read about
last night in the guide to Nevis.   Allamanda,