A Jewel in the Sun Read online

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Find out who she is and report to me as soon as possible!” The man behind the desk was obviously in an intensely angry mood. He prided himself on being in control of things, situation and of course people. Very little went on around him that he was unaware of. He was the CEO of one of the most successful publishing company in France – Sabienne’s Publishing. Information had to be accessible, it was just a matter of brandishing the right key.

  He sighed and rubbed his neck. He was tired, but there was always something to do. He was the only one to do it. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the cherry colored mahogany desk. He stood abruptly upsetting the paper weight on his desk. He had to know. It had plagued him for more than twenty years now. He had just returned from home from borden school and had entered his father’s office without knocking.

  His father who was not openly expressive was in an intimate embrace with one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen. The woman was tall, slender and almost ethereal. It was difficult to ascertain her age. Her skin was tanned a golden hue that was a little darker than her hair. Her eyes were a startling golden color that was emphasized by the long lush darker eye lashes. Although she had the most adorable dimples and a killer body, it was the drenching sadness in his eyes that mesmerized him more than anything. They had a sad and bruised look. He had been so fascinated by them, that he had almost missed the strangely tender look on his father’s craggy, handsome face.

  He remembered referring to the event but his father brushed it aside impatiently. He had forgotten about it. Now he wondered if it was connected to this mystery shareholder. His father had been a very attractive man with a very stern outlook on life. He knew that there were many women who had found him attractive, if he was advantaged by it, it never showed. He always treated his wife, Gastron’s mere with great affection and respect. Image was everything.

  Gastron had been his apprentice, except that years in the United States had exposed Gastron to other cultures. It had given him another perspective from which to view his country and the norms.. He took the best from both cultures and had applied it. Although he clung to some traditions, he prided himself on being a paragon of mystery. More important, this application of lessons learned had enabled Ettiene’s Pubishing to be one of the most prestigious publishing firms, the world over.

  Although Gaston was known for his ruthlessness in business, even his enemies could not deny that he was a fair man. He was a man who allowed nothing and no one to get in his way. His enemies hated him, many wanted to be like him and women loved him. His charm was lethal, yet they always knew the score.

  Gastron was the only surviving son of his mother. His father, Gastron II was killed six years ago on his was back home in his private jet. The result of the investigations was inconclusive. Some suspected engine failure, others thought that it was the result of too much chardonnay. By the time his son had taken over the company, it was almost bankrupt with thirty-nine percent of its shares being owned by an unknown. A legal representative was the liaison. Gastron suspected that this person may be the link to the inconclusive report on the investigation. It was also the reason for his ire and the reason why he had top notch investigation firms on the matter.

  When he didn’t get his way, others bore the result of his wrath – an awesome sight to behold. He was notorious for his temper, but also for his silent, ice control. Gastron was also a very private person. His thoughts were his own. He often baffled others during his weaning years with his loneness and his fiercely independent ways. Few knew him, fewer still, understood him. It was his way and his mother, Cecile was content to allow him to care for her without input, even though she doted on him and he, on her.

  A stickler for traditions, his family and all of its mandate rested on his shoulder. It was a responsibility that he took very seriously. Ever since his assumption of the reigns of the publishing company, it has quadrupled in profits as well as not only did it span all of Europe but it was almost a household name in the Americas and the South Pacific sea. In addition, its focus had expanded to coffee houses.

  He was completing the last of his quarterly report when the phone to his private line rang. He picked it up with a feeling of abode. As he listened to the message being relayed, there was no visible change in his intensely brooding expression. The only sign to indicate the weight of the message was the tick and the clenching of his jaw. He rested the phone down abruptly and slammed his fist down on the desk.

  Gastron hit the intercom, instructed his secretary to make the arrangement for his trip. The secretary see the familiar brewing of the infamous temper knew to thread softly. There were some calls that were not to be left up to his PA. He called his mere, wait for her to finished her tirade and then Gastron calmly told her that he would be out of the country. He wouldn’t be the perceptive man he was if he hadn’t heard the hitch in her breath. However, his mind was to other –centered. The hour that it took for the chauffer to maneuver his way through the traffic to Charles De Gaulle Airport was lost on Gastronomy as he plotted the trap for his unsuspecting nemesis.

  Promising to be in contact, Gastronomy strode purposely toward the checking in counter oblivious to the females that inclined themselves in his path as well as the not so subtle of the counter agent. So focused was he on the questions circulating in his head, he almost did not hear the sound of his cellular.

  “Alo”, he said abruptly.

  “Oui, c’est Jules at je cannais il long temp, main nous avez vrai dans location counia. Nous avez il dossier. Je vas vous il toude suite.”

  The conversation ended abruptly. Gastron open his brief case attached the portable print

  CHAPTER TWO

  She didn’t want to wake up. It was hard to open one’s eyes to the reality of loss. It seemed as if the lids of the eyes were to remain closed, then ugly realities would be kept at bay. It was easier to pretend that it had never occurred. Even with eyes shut, the tears seeped out of her closed lids and soaked the pillow. Azolee had no one to help share the pain, no one who would understand. This excrutiating pain was private and it was overwhelming in its completeness. No bandage or medicinal could be applied. It had to run its course, only made had a chance at being the healer. She understood that life was like this. She had lost her best friend and closest ‘relative’ Nana. Nana had taken her over and had treated as her own daughter. Now Nana was gone and she was alone in the world.

  Nana. Her Nana. Nana whose name she later learned was Anna Marie, formerly of Gelle France had finally succumbed to a cardiocvascular cancer that according to doctors, should have taken her life thirty years ago. Nana, still beautiful in her latter years, struck a tall, gaunt, fragile, yet elegant figure. Her fine boned structure and lightly lined skin were a product of excellent genes and an abundant love of life. This still beautiful woman had been the nearest thing that she had to a mother, after her own mother had died while Azolee was just two years. She barely remembered the woman who had been Nana’s house keeper and friend.

  It had been Nana who had given her a love for all things natural. She absolutely loved the aqua blue ocean that surrounded these islands. Daily she would wake up around five thirty to welcome the rooster’s crow and later the beautiful sunrise whose rays would warm and later tan her already golden skin. Her knowledge of indigenous plants and animals and her instinctive way with them were a gift handed down from Nana.

  Losing Nana was like losing the sun. Life held no meaning. Reluctantly, Azolee rose from the bed. Her long, loose limbs were graceful and beautifully tanned. She hadn’t wanted to watch the sunrise since losing Nana. She hardly ever ate and it was reflected in her fragile, fine boned structure. Her body was beautifully slender and curvaceous with full breast above a tiny waist. Her limbs was well honed, compliments of daily walks, swims and snorkeling. When she wasn’t enjoying life, Azolee was busy collecting samples and assembling notes to compile for her desertion. She had a last chapter to write, but her motivation level was so low. Azolee quickly ran her fingers through her long unruly crinkly curls, twisted into a bob and headed for the shower.

  Later, dressed in a beach wrap and tank top, she grabbed the keys to the suzuki jeep. She needed to contact her lawyer, fax reports and pick up some food items. She drove the fifteen minutes to the Emerald Bay Marina, conducted her business and was pulling out of the port when a low slung rental swerved carelessly into the adjacent slot. She shot the offender a glare and pulled out abruptly in a cloud of dust. “Tourists!” she grumbled, “they are so condescending of the islands’ traffic laws.” She knew that her surliness was misplaced. Maybe anger would cause her to focus less on the pain.

  Her last stop was the post office. She collected her package and was strolling toward the vehicle when her eyes were caught by the envelope. It was an envelope addressed to Ms. Azolee Marie. The contents of the letter stated that she was to call the local law firm, Gibson Rigby and Co. and even gave her contact person. The reason was to discuss the estate of the late Ana Marie estate. Azolee allowed for the lifting of her heart shaped lips into a sweet sad smile. Nana loved the beach cottage so much that she had refused to sell it even after it became too expensive to maintain. She closed her eyes, loving the memory of Nana, before her eyes started to fill with tear. “I love you”, she whispered painfully.

  This was not time for weeping, Nana hadn’t wanted it. Azolee quickly blinked away the tears and drove along to the store to pick up her staples. She met some faces and after saying the appropriate hell
os in response to the “morning dahlin’ ” or “hey sweety”, she strode back to the vehicle oblivious to everything except her need to find solace. It was not only the pain of losing Nana, it was the combination of seeing families shopping that emphasized how much she had lost. There were no close friends or even a possible date. It had all been by design. She was a loner and had only time for her hobby. Being awarded scholarships, meant that she met persons she loosely associated with, but spent her breaks and summers with Nana, doing the things she loved. She loved to listen to Nana talk of life in France. As she grew older, she realized that although Nana talked of gay times and parties, there was always a deep seated sadness, a shadow and a pall that would come over her.

  Azolee finished putting the groceries away, changed in to a bathing suit and dashed out into to the clear turquoise water. She made laps and laps until she was tired. No one saw the pain, the loneliness. Any onlookers only saw – a beautiful golden mermaid enjoying the water. As usual, a family of bottle nosed dolphins came by and they flirted with Azolee. As if sensing her pain, the calf one nosed her softly. He kept coming from directions swimming around and leaping as if wanting to lift her spirits. Nana had always marveled at Azolee’s affinity with animals.

  How much time passed, it was difficult to tell.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Gastron put the phone down. He loved this country with its vivid colours and laid back lifestyle. It was a preferred destination for vacation. He had been there three times – two on business and had been meaning to return. Now was his time. “Anne Marie”. He wrapped his mind around the name, sounding it off on his tongue. What was she in relations to his father? Was she the reason why he became so distant in the latter phase of his life. Was it from her bed that his father was returning when he was killed? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. She was going to give him some answers, this Anne Marie.

  Two He took out the dossier and read it again. He had read it and removed the irrelevant parts. Anne Marie was indeed a beautiful woman, but if he wasn’t mistaken, her skin had a dark hue. This was becoming more complex by the minute. The next few hours were busy with calls, arrangement and so forth. He must have fallen into an uneasy sleep because soon they were landing at JFK International airport in New York. He went through the relevant procedures and then stood online to board American Eagle into Miami. His final boarding pass declared that he was finally on his way to The Bahamas. The task of reaching Nassau and waiting to board for Exuma was a taxing one, but it was essential.

  Two hours later, he decided, he would mix business with pleasure. He would pursue this complex dilemma, but he also wanted to scout business a opportunity. He was heading for Emerald Bay Marina when he swung his rental into the slot aggressively to prevent another from getting in. That’s when he saw her.

  She had on a colorful print wrap with an aqua tank top. Her hair was twisted carelessly on top of her hair. Her jewelry consisted of natural coconut creations along with a golden dolphin anklet. He was extraordinarily beautiful, more so because she seemed unaware of it. She was about five feet nine inches in her flat sandals. She stared as if fascinated – her skin color was a light caramel color – burnish gold, with her crinkly bronze – sun-streaked hair. He felt the first stirring of desire. He knew right then that his decision to stay longer, was a good one. As she browsed her mails, he admired her long graceful neck and bare, shoulders – made more golden by the sun. She looked up with a scowl at his approach and immediately returned to her perusal of the bills. After a brief moment, she climbed into the jeep and pulled off in a cloud of dust. She was a native, it was obvious in her dress and in the confidence with which she carried herself. There was a nonchalance about her to those who would casually study her, but for the discerning, there was more. So much more. Maybe it was the vivid sights here in The Bahamas that had altered his thinking because he had no time for women. They were a dime a dozen and were his for the asking. As far as he was concerned, he was here to do what was necessary to obtain the shares back and nothing was going to get in his way, not even a slip of a girl.

  However, an hour later, his thoughts were still occupied with her. “Mon Dieu”, he thought to himself. “Elle est belle.” The instinctive return to his native language was lost on him. He went about deciding how to locate and approach Anne Marie, but upper most in his mind was the flash of her honey brown eyes to a golden flare. He quickly reminded himself of the many responsibilities awaiting him.

  The business that had been in his family for years was at stake and he had a job to do. There were many beautiful and available women here, he had already met two earlier. He felt the business card in his pocket. He had business to tend to. He quickly banished the remaining thoughts of her sexy body wrapped around his from his mind and with the will power that he was known for, he proceeded to attend his business.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Azolee was in the back of the yard, sketching plants after photographing them and comparing them with other similar speeches. The swim had done her some good. Every day, the pain was easing a little, but it always seem to resurface at nights with very greater vividness. Work helped it to slip into oblivion.

  She consulted with her notes while being assisted by Estella Marge. Mama as she was called by the natives was a veteran with bush medicine and had been the recipient of an encyclopedia of oral history of the various plants. This knowledge extended to their native names – locally, uses and how to prepare and apply. Azolee’s work included the latin names and scientific proof of their actual medicinal powers and a comparison of those used in other Caribbean Islands and Western Africa.

  The bush seeds and practice of the use of bush medicine was said to have been brought to the islands more than two hundred years before with the African slaves. There were ‘medicine men’ and witch doctors who often sang chants as they applied the healing concoction. Some of the plants were aromatic while other were smelly. The use of the art was not as prevalent as the younger generations were more hyped to man- made counter parts.

  Mama was five feet and rotound. The fifty year old village ‘nurse’ was well-known for her bush medicine cures for common ailments. “Dis one ‘ere is call stiff cork an we use ‘m fa when ya ga bad back.” ‘Mama’ as she was affectionately called, was focused on her descriptions as was Azolee. It was a wonder that they heard the persistent chimes of the bell.

  “I get de door fa ya”. Mama moved her ample body and went out to check. She had been but took a while. When she came in she was apprehensive. “One wite foreign man out dere now. Him askin’ for Ms. Marie. I done tell him, she passed. Come you bes’ talk wid ‘im. An he ain no touris’, no siree. He from strange land, dat one you see.”

  “What does he want?” Azolee asked in preoccupied fashion, even it though it was a strange occurrence to have visitors at all.

  “Like I say, you bes’ come see sweety”.

  Azolee, wiped her hands on her red tye-dyed skirt. She moved with an unconscious grace towards the door, closely followed by Mama. Her confident strides were brought up short at the view of the stranger standing by the window. He was very tall, over six feet, dressed in a tan slacks with a stark, white linen shirt. His hair was black and insanely thick and slightly long over the color. His shoulders were impressively broad.

  “ Nice view you have here.” He said in thickly accented English. He turned around. The only sound that betrayed him was the extreme stillness and the subtle hardening of his features. They betray him to the others. Only a very observant onlooker who knew him would have been alerted. Mama knew that the stranger’s presence had something to do with a vision she had of long ago. This was not a surprise. She knew these things, but she wondered if Azolee had an inkling?

  “Thank you. May I be of some help?” Azolee’s voice was low key, had clarity, but with a sweet musical undertone. This was often made more effective by the fact that often observed more than she revealed. Even now, her face was schooled into a mask of inquiry. It hid the fluttery I her stomach and the erratic pace of her heart beats. The tensing of her muscle and the escalation of sensuous thoughts were experienced by Azolee, hidden from the naked eyes but observed by Mama. She gave a small smile and slipped out unnoticed.