When Bees Sing - Part 1

Chapter 7

A gentle touch on her side pulled Sadie out of her reverie. She hadn't fallen asleep this time...shocker...but the white noise of the waterfall and warm air had settled her into a satiated state. Like a schoolgirl, she whined. "Five more minutes."

"Sorry, sweetheart, time to go."

"Please?" She turned her head and found Derry packing up the picnic items. "Can't we build a straw hut and live here forever?"

He tugged his t-shirt over his head. "Our own private Gilligan's Island? Live off coconuts and mangoes?"

"Why not?" She pouted.

"You can handle living in nature, without all the amenities civilization brings? No internet, television, fast food?"

"We could harness electricity from the water or use solar power." She got up to fold the blanket. "It would be easy."

"You're on your own in that adventure. As much as I enjoy these excursions from my real world for a few days, I can't live forever without Starbucks, email or CNN."

Sadie stepped into her shorts, tucked her t-shirt into the waistband and stared again at the waterfall. The outside world beckoned them, but she wanted to hold it back for one more perfect moment. "It was nice for a while."

Derry stood next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder and gazing in the same direction. "Yes, it was."

She closed her eyes and opened her other senses. The feel of his arm around her didn't excite her now; it just felt right and natural. And she could smell his scent, a combination of sunscreen and energy. It pleased her and she wished she could capture it in a candle. She'd call it 'Island Man'. The silly thought made her grin.

"What are you doing?" Derry's voice had a bemused tone.

"Taking a picture."

His arm moved and she felt his hand pat her back. His breath tickled her ears. "Someone had too much sun today."

Without opening her eyes, she elbowed him and he dropped his hand. "I'm committing this place to memory. So when I have a dreary moment, I can conjure it up in my mind and revisit the sunshine and fun."

When he didn't mock her, Sadie opened her eyes to find his closed. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a picture as well."

They walked back to the jeep in single file. The warmth and serenity of their day lulled them into silence.

At the jeep, Derry put the bag and quilt in the back seat, and they climbed into the front. When he started the engine, Sadie looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "So, a Starbucks guy, huh?"

He dragged out his response. "Yes, is that a problem?"

She snickered and turned toward him. "No, but I've always thought you could tell a lot about a person by the coffee place they prefer. And yes, before you say it, these are stereotypes."

He raised an eyebrow. "So what does Starbucks say about me?"

Sadie tugged the t-shirt over her head to put on her serious face. "Starbucks is white-collar coffee. Business people who live the normal nine-to-five work world with the occasional extra hours on both ends depending on where they fit into the organizational scheme of their office. Or artistic people who like to ponder life's little mysteries in paint, theater or words. These are people who are interested in flash, status and the latest in art, fashion, technology, etc."

A pause. "Okay."

She saw the smile lurking around his mouth and continued. "Now, Dunkin' Donuts is the working man's coffee. The traditional blue-collar jobs such as laborers, public service, etc. Hard working people who want quality and substance, but without pomp and circumstance. Then you have your other coffee places."

"There are more places?"

"Don't mock, it doesn't become you. And yes, there are."

His smile grew. "And do you have theories on those as well?"

"Not full ones. Other coffee places range from your convenience store cups to the trendy coffeehouse. Each has its own clientele and java experience. I don't think we have time to go into all of them."

"In all seriousness, you've thought this through pretty deeply."

"Coffee is my life."

"Do you work in a coffeehouse?"

She leaned in, "Are you probing for personal information? I thought we had an understanding of no 'whats' of each other."

"Just wanted to get to the root of this coffee knowledge. Trying to figure out where you got your research data."

"Simple observations of life. And I drink a lot of coffee. Too much."

"Same here. So we know we're coffee addicts and I'm Starbucks and you are..."

"I'm an eccentric mixture with no real preference to be honest. Basically whatever is most convenient and closest. Although, my absolute favorite place back home is a coffeehouse in an old mansion. Each room has a different theme to satisfy every caffeine addict's needs of quiet, poetry, music, etc. You'd love this place. It's quirky and off the beaten path."

"I'll have to check it out if I ever get to wherever your back home is."

. . .

When they pulled up to the front of her hotel, Sadie yawned and apologized. "It's not the company, I swear."

Derry patted her knee. "I hope not, although I'm sure you've had enough of me today."

Sadie yawned again and she covered her mouth. "God, I'm so sorry."

"Looks like room service and an early bed for you. Which is good, because I unfortunately have a prior engagement and cannot invite you to dinner."

Disappointment settled into her, she didn't want their time to end even if she didn't have the energy to extend it. "I had a great time today and thank you again. You're an excellent tour guide."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. His lips were gentle on her skin. Non-sexual. Like a kiss from Kayla's husband. "Have a good night."

Feeling dismissed, Sadie grabbed her belongings and slid from the jeep.

She walked into the lobby and jabbed the button for the elevator. A frustrated itch coursed through her and she growled with impatience as the elevator paused on the second floor. Foregoing the mechanical transport, Sadie pushed through the door to the stairs and started her climb to her eighth-floor room.

By the fourth flight of stairs, she kicked herself for such a stupid decision. By the seventh floor, she questioned her mental state.

Two more steps and she sat down to catch her breath and her sanity. What was she doing? She hadn't exercised in weeks, forgoing her weekly Pilates class and daily walk because she didn't have the energy to get out of bed. Now she was racing up the stairs? She'd have a heart attack and die in the stairwell of a four-star hotel on an island smaller than Missouri. No one would find her for days.

Sadie placed her head in her hands and took a deep breath. "Damn, I'm out of shape."

She took the last flight at a slower pace and rejoiced when she reached the door to her hallway, panting out, "Thank heavens," when she opened the door to her suite. Before she fell on the small loveseat, she saw the light blinking on the hotel phone.