CHAPTER 12: Pellows Island



"Tara, honey, c'mere you're gonna love this." Sam called out from the bathroom.

"What's up baby?" Tara asked as she neared the doorway. "Oh... my... God!" She cried out upon entering the spacious room. Its walls a buttercup yellow and its floor tiles gleeming baige porcelain. A large framed mirror hung above a pair of face basins set in an off-white marble counter top. A skylight in the center of the vaulted ceiling allowed natural light to flood in.


Looking over at Sam who looked cute devoid of shoes while comfortably seated cross-legged in a large, albeit empty tub, Tara squealed in delight and excitedly hopped in along with him after tossing her own shoes aside.

Wider and deeper than the conventional bath tub, the top of it caught them at their chins while they were in seated positions.


"Holy shit! Sam, check this out!" Tara exclaimed pointing to a small console she discovered on the side of the tub. The water proofed controls were set flush into the porcelain tile walling that surrounded the tub.

"A push of this button and jet streams baby! Jet streams!", Tara laughed in glee.


Smiling to himself as he watched her checking out the controls, Sam was now more than glad for the screw up with his soak-er tub order. As it turned out, three days ago when Dusty went to pick up the tub, a more expensive version had arrived instead. The supplier apologized for the mistake and offered to place another order but said it would be on back-order which meant that it would take up to three weeks to arrive. Dusty told him that it was unacceptable and the owners will be moving in in less than three weeks. Who in their right mind would argue with a six foot two Hulk Hogan clone with arms the size of tree trunks. So, at no extra cost, Dusty walked away with a tub outfitted with eight inset jet stream nozzles, led mood lighting, automatic shut-off valve, and digital controlled temperature regulator.

Coming to, Sam just remembered about the hotel worker who taxied them and their bags to their suite.


"Oh, I forgot all about the porter." He said and quickly jumped out of the tub.

"Don't worry babes, he left after I tipped him." Tara reassured also getting out of the deep white tub herself.

"Honey, that's my job."

"Okay, shoot me. C'mon, lets check out the rest of the place." She said smiling all the while dismissing his last comment.


She didn't see the point in wasting time reminding him that he already spent enough on this trip or bothering to make it a point that her tipping the porter was the least that she could do. Without a moment to lose, she took hold of his hand and pulled him in the direction of the french double doors leading to the exterior.

Amazed at how she was still full of energy even after spending eight long hours travelling as well as utilizing three of those hours reading her text book while on the plane, Sam found her absolutely refreshing.

The moment they were outside, they closed the doors behind them and walked up to the edge of the brick porch. Looking all around them, the picturesque scenery took their breaths away.


"Sam, this is beautiful." Tara said smiling with moistened eyes as they stood beneath a white arbour that framed the porch. Jasmine flowers perfumed the air, above vines wrapped snugly around the sturdy trellis framework and hung loosely over the edges. Rambling rose bushes full of white blossoms hugged the bases of the wooden latticework.

A mixture of red ginger lillies and orange bird of paradise formed a colorful hedge, buffering the walls of the cottage. Tall and mid sized trees surrounded the beach house and in the distance, bamboo trees swayed in the soft wind. Where the rust colored brick walkway ended, an expanse carpet of perfectly manicured thick green crab grass began and stretched seemlessly for another thirty feet wide and fifty feet deep stopping just short of a stone wall at the far end of the garden overlooking the beach.

Hand in hand they walked bare-footed across the lawn as hypnotic sounds of the sea called to them. Along the way, they succumed to the calming sensations of cool silky grass blades curling between their toes. Once they got to the wall, a faint continuous breeze caressed their faces and gingerly ruffled their hair and clothes. As they stood behind the hip height wall they took in the spectacular view some two hundred feet above the beach.

The cottage was built in the late forties, its foundations deeply rooted in ancient volcanic rocks, started out as just a quaint two bedroom beach house on a two hundred acre lot. It provided a tropical escape to its owner, a famous British author and screenwriter, who instantly fell in love with the island, its unique setting and interesting history inspired many of his works. Decades after his death, the property was sold by his widow and the new owner with dreams of making the place a tourist resort, built twenty more cottages like it plus fifteen three bedroom villas, each with their own private beach front. In time, three story studio apartment blocks were added. Over the years as the hotel developed, it earned a five-star all-inclusive rating. All the while the look and privacy of the original beach house was maintained. While only the bathroom was updated and electrical wiring brought up to code, everything else was kept in pristine condition, including the king size mahogany four-poster bed, wide-planked oak floors, and antique blue maho furniture.

From where they stood, they noticed a concrete walkway to a flight of wooden stairs that lead to the beach below. Halfway down the wall, an almond tree grew, its roots anchored deep within, its gnarly limbs twisted in opposite direction to natures forces of salty wind. At the foot of the stone wall were leaning palm trees which provided natural shading to anyone who sought refuge from the brilliant sun. The beach was notably long and wide and its unbroken soft white gold sand rolled up to crystal clear water that gently lapped at its feet.

Together, they allowed their gazes to fall on Pellows Island which was a little to the right of their private beach and at least four olympic pool lengths away from the shore. The densely vegetated tiny island one half the length of a football field sat in solitude completely surrounded by blue water, its base wrapped by a thin strip of beach, wide enough for visitors to lie on and lazily watch time go by.

With both his arms lovingly wrapped about her waist, Tara rocked back onto Sam feeling the warmth of his body against hers. Leaning forward, Sam rested his chin in the crook of her smooth neck until their cheeks touched. In silence they looked beyond the horizon and watched the large orange firery ball make its slow decent into the glistening Caribbean Sea.


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