Dragon Moon by Alan F. Troop Page B

mindspeaks as he feeds. “When can I go on a hunt?”
    â€œWhen you’re bigger.”
    â€œBut I am bigger.”
    I pause eating for a moment, smile, nudge the child feeding beside me. “Not big enough,” I mindspeak.
    â€œWhen?” he asks.
    â€œDon’t be in such a rush,” I say. I find a piece of meat that I know Henri will like and push it in front of him, watch him as he sniffs it.
    He closes his eyes when he begins to chew, makes a mewing sound as he eats.
    Mighty hunter, I think, and feed beside him.

8
    I hardly sleep the night before we leave. Memories of Elizabeth flood my mind each time I close my eyes. I remember her touch, her wildness when we made love. No matter how I turn, no matter what thoughts I try to have, I can’t pull my mind away from replaying scenes of our lovemaking. It brings me no pleasure to remember it now. It only sharpens a need I’ve tried to ignore for over four years.
    Finally, before dawn, when I find myself wondering for the third time that night what sex with Chloe will be like, I give up any further attempt to rest and leave my bed. I dress and busy myself — wandering the house, making sure all is secure, going to the treasure room and bringing up the small wood chest filled with gold coins I plan to give to Chloe’s parents. After carrying it to the dock, I make two more trips to bring out all our luggage too. I load all of it in the rear of the Grady White’s cockpit, returning to the house, checking everything once more before I wake Henri.
    He and I are done with breakfast, ready to travel before Claudia arrives to ferry us to shore. She finds us waiting for her on the dock.
    I watch her maneuver the SeaRay alongside the dock, help her tie off the lines, noting the tight khaki shorts she’s wearing, the white tank top with no bra. She steps off the boat and I struggle to keep my eyes off her. Shaking my head, I turn away. I should have no interest in this woman. I worry once again if I’ve gone too damn long without another’s touch. Or is it the knowledge that I’ll be in Jamaica before nightfall that’s been flooding my mind with memories, weakening my self-control?
    â€œReady to go?” she says.
    â€œAbsolutely.” Riding as a passenger this time, I let Claudia take the helm of the Grady White, the girl guiding us out of the channel, speeding us toward shore, Henri wedged between us, clutching his pink bunny.
    It’s a perfect summer morning — the blue sky just a few shades lighter than the flat bay waters, the puffy white clouds just numerous enough to offer intermittent relief from a bright July sun, the wind just strong enough to take the edge off the day’s heat. From the water, our island looks like a small green paradise and as anxious as I am to go, as tired as I am of waiting, I still feel an emptiness as I watch it recede behind us.
    The last time I left my home, I left at night, alone, cruising for weeks on a trawler before I finally reached my destination. By then I had already found and won my bride. This time I’m leaving in daylight, with a small child to look after. After only a short boat ride, an equally brief journey by car and an hour and a half flight, I’ll be in Jamaica with no certainty how much longer I’ll have to wait or whether my trip will have been in vain.
    Henri picks up on my mood. “I’ve never been on a plane,” he mumbles, hugging his bunny.
    â€œIt’ll be fine,” I say.
    Still, the boy barely whispers, “Hello,” when Arturo meets us at the dock, doesn’t say “Good-bye,” to Claudia. He follows us in silence as we carry the luggage to the car, doesn’t even smile when Arturo tries to lift the wood chest and grimaces in surprise when he finds it’s too heavy for him.
    â€œThere’s gold in this,” I say to Arturo as I pick up the chest, put it to the rear of the trunk. “I