Going back to the old town, Selena searched among the shops and found a travel agency. Yes, she could fly to the Dominican Republic, to Puerto Plata airport. When would she like to go? After a great deal of discussion with herself, Selena decided to stay another whole day and two nights in San Juan, just in case Keith arrived there and made a reservation to fly the day after the next.
Arrangements for her departure made, she proceeded to try to enjoy her stay on Puerto Rico. After lunching at one of the better-known restaurants in the old city, she returned to the hotel for siesta, then some swimming and sunbathing. In the evening, she walked down to the marina and Club Nautico to check on the yachts without result. The Jellyfish was still not there.
Determined not to hang about the next day as if waiting for Keith to arrive, she booked to go on a tour of the countryside arranged by the hotel. The bus drove into the mountains along winding paved roads through the lush vines, giant tree ferns and flowering trees of the rain forest, and past vast coffee plantations. There were flocks of vivid coloured parrots and parakeets, and the air was soft and warm. The day passed pleasantly for Selena in the company of two other single women who were on holiday from the States. When she returned to San Juan, she checked again that the Jellyfish was not at either of the marinas, and had dinner with her new acquaintances at a downtown night-spot.
Next morning, she visited the customs building again to make sure the Jellyfish had not arrived in San Juan then drove out to catch the plane to Puerto Plata. A few hours later, she was in a taxi driving to the old silver port. Since it was the week before Easter Sunday, it was Festival time and the narrow streets and wide plaza, with its elegant two-towered Spanish church, blazing flowerbeds and shady pathways, were packed with people, mostly teenagers. Noise blasted from radios advertising the wares of shops. Small motorcycles, more than Selena had ever seen anywhere, dodged between cars and buses, ridden not only by swarthy-skinned. T-shirted men but also by similarly dressed young women.
With the help of a Spanish phrasebook, Selena had asked the taxi driver to take her straight to the harbour, and from the plaza, the cab slid down a steep street lined with shabby shops. The street ended in an open area obviously created by the demolition of some buildings. The ground was right and pitted with potholes. Dark warehouses loomed beside the dirty heaving water of a harbour where several yachts were anchored. Other yachts were tied up at a wharf near by. On the opposite side of the harbour, against another wharf, a big cruise ship gleamed with white paint, flags fluttering from it in the stiff breeze. And towering over it all, behind the scattered buildings of the city, soared the distinctive shape of the mountain Isabella de Torres, steep-sided and covered with thick vegetation.
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Passionate Choice
RomantikSelena has made the mistake of falling in love with Keith Walker when all he wanted was a casual fling before he married someone else. Once burnt, twice shy. The new man in Selena's life was everything that Keith was not: steady, reliable and eager...
