Stay with me

Chapter 42 - Happiness in the hands

It started raining in the night. Its frequent drops were hitting the wooden flooring. It sounded like a drumbeat like thin sticks touching the taut skin of a drum. It was it which made Defne wake up. She carefully got out of bed and looked at Omer - did she wake him up? He was fast asleep. Lying on his stomach, he hugged the pillow with both hands. The sheet covered him to the waist, and his bare torso pressed down on the mattress. Unlike to this mind-boggling sexuality, the face seemed boyishly simple-minded and serene. Defne smiled affectionately and stepped silently out onto the terrace. The water wall began immediately behind the canopy and was as dense as milk. The air was soaked with warm and heady moisture. Defne walked to the terrace railing and, putting her hands on it, closed her eyes. She wanted to capture in her memory this rain and the melody that its drops played.

Omer came out of the bungalow. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned and went up to his wife. He hugged her, kissed her shoulder near the thin shoulder strap of her nightgown, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

- Why are you here? - asked with a voice hoarse from sleep.

- I listen to the rain. It is not the same here as in Istanbul. Heavy and smells different. Why did you wake up?

- I wanted to hug you and didn't find you - moody notes sounded in his voice. - I can't sleep without you. - Defne laughed softly. - Why do you laughing?

"Omer Iplikci, who preferred to sleep alone and tolerated the presence of others in his bed for no longer than an hour, has now changed his habits," she explained.

"He fell in love," Omer muttered sleepily. - And how do you know about my long-standing dislike of sharing a bed with someone?

- I guessed it. Back when I worked as your assistant.

"Shrewd Defne," he kissed the top of her head and turned her to the bungalow door. - Let's go to sleep. In the morning we have an excursion to a black pearl farm. You will need strength and energy.

- What about rain? Will it bother us?

- It's the tropics - Omer put his arm around her shoulders and led her into the bedroom. - In half an hour, there will be no trace of it.

In the morning, only the wet planks on the bridge and dewdrops on flower petals reminded of the rain. The sky was clear, and the sun shone with cheerful carelessness, warming the lagoon and creamy strips of sandy beaches with its rays.

For the trip, Defne dressed as comfortably as possible - blue denim shorts, white shirt, and leather moccasins on her legs. She braided her hair into a loose braid and went out onto the terrace. The table was already set for breakfast there. Omer, in khaki shorts and a white shirt with sleeves, rolled up to the elbows, sat in his seat, and was spreading transparent, golden-green jam on a bagel.

- What is it made of? - Defne asked, sitting down opposite. On a nearby empty chair, she put her backpack.

"I don't know," her husband replied. "But the taste is amazing."

He poured her tea, stirred the sugar in it, and slipped a dish of pastries closer.

- Eat, - ordered. "The boat will come for us in twenty minutes." He took a couple of small bananas in an unusual red peel from a fruit dish and put them in the backpack. "What if you want to eat," he explained.

Moved by his concern, Defne, hiding a smile, bent over a cup of tea.

The boat that arrived for them had a glass bottom. Turquoise water, white coral branches and colorful fish swimming between them shone through it. Defne was sitting at the stern, looking at the underwater world and gasping in admiration. Omer, watching her delight, smiled affectionately and condescendingly, and felt like the ruler of the world.