Honeymoon

Chapter 112

THAT AFTERNOON A VERY strange and unexpectedly nice thing happened—I got some time off, and I got to spend it with Susan. We wisely decided to check out the beach at La Samanna, which was long, wide, and dazzlingly white. There was even an old shipwreck down the shoreline.

“Are we sure we can trust these local guys?” I asked Susan as we caught a few rays.

“You’re acting like they’re the Keystone Kops, or something,” she said.

I was referring to the gendarmerie, the police on St. Martin.

They’d taken Nora into custody until the extradition papers could be finalized for her return to New York.

“Maybe it’s just me,” I said, “but it’s hard to put a lot of faith in policemen who wear shorts. We’re not even talking about normal ones, either. Did you see those things? They were so tight, I could tell their religion.”

Susan turned to me with an incredulous stare I’d seen many times before. “Shut up and drink your drink, John.”

She had a point. As she always does.

Our police work there was done. Nora was safely in custody, and the case was closed. We’d even checked in with John Jr. and Max back home to see that they were okay with their grandparents, Susan’s mom and dad, who still sort of liked me, in spite of everything.

If just for a little while, Susan and I deserved to be sitting right where we were. Side by side on comfy beach chairs at this unbelievably ritzy resort, watching the sun go down against the backdrop of a beautifully illuminated orange sky. Hell, we’d even gone for a swim together.

I reached over with my mai tai. “Here’s to Nurse Emily Barrows.”

Susan clinked my glass with her piña colada.

I leaned back in my chair and sighed deeply. I felt a sense of satisfaction and an equal amount of relief. I also felt a twinge of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it wasn’t very comforting. Let’s call it guilt.

I glanced over at Susan, who looked incredibly pretty and serene. I’d caused her so much pain and I felt horrible about it. She deserved better.

I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I am so, so sorry.”

She squeezed back. “I know you are,” she said softly.

And there it was. A happy ending if there ever was one. Me with a mai tai in one hand, the first woman I ever truly loved in the other. And Nora Sinclair soon to be serving a life sentence for the murders she’d committed.

Of course, I should’ve known better.