The room was filled with a rosy glow as the sun crept up over the sea. Too caught up in each other, in the rhythmic thrust and retreat of passionate lovemaking, it might as well have been pitch black for all the attention Hunter and Miranda paid the glorious dawn. As passion reached it's climax, a breeze blew through the open French doors, bringing the scent of the sea and the fragrant Hibiscus flowers blossoming profusely on bushes below Hunter's second floor balcony.
They had arrived at Hunter's beautiful tropical island home just after midnight. Everyone in the household had been sleeping, and so they had slipped up the staircase and into Hunter's old bedroom, barely taking time to shuck their travel-wrinkled clothes before collapsing into bed in complete exhaustion.
Roused by the stirring of warm air, Miranda slipped from under Hunter's sated body and walked out onto the balcony, unmindful of her nudity. Hunter watched as she lifted her face to the breeze, allowing it to lift her hair and dry her perspiration dewed skin. She looked glorious there, haloed by the rising sun, her soft skin glimmering as if gilded. There were times when Hunter couldn't believe how much he loved this woman. Rising himself, he joined her on the wrought iron balcony, wrapping his arms around her from behind and hugging her close to his chest. "I love you, Miranda," he murmured against her temple.
Miranda smiled, and turned to face him. "Are we safe here, Hunter? I mean, really safe?"
"More than we'd be on the mainland. This is a small island--everybody knows everybody, so any strangers would cause a stir. Your people won't be able to sneak up on us." He looked out over the ocean. "As long as we stay out of the water, that is."
A loud, slightly-out-of-tune whistle alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone. They slipped back into the shadows of the bedroom as an old man pushed a wheelbarrow full of gardening tools around the corner of the house and across the lawn toward the well tended flower gardens. "You'd better throw on some clothing, darling," Hunter said as he pulled on a pair of well worn denim cutoffs. "If Henry is out and about, it won't be long before his wife, Maria, knocks on the door to see who's bunking down in my bed."
"But I don't have anything to wear, Hunter!" Miranda gasped, realizing that she was literally without a stitch of clothing other than the stuff she'd been wearing while they traveled. Her skin crawled at the thought of putting those dirty garments back on.
Hunter pulled a white dress shirt out of his closet and tossed it to her. "We'll get you some more clothing this afternoon," he assured her as she stepped into the bathroom to wash up and dress. She had just pulled the shirt on and was buttoning it up when there was a loud, female squeal from the outer room. "Hunter! Welcome home, baby!" the woman cried.
Curious, Miranda cracked the bathroom door and peaked out. Hunter stood in the center of the bedroom, wrapped in the arms of a tiny woman who looked like an apple with legs. The woman was probably less than five feet tall, and at least as wide as she was tall. Dressed in a bright red dress and wearing a green hat over her snow-white hair, she definitely looked like an apple. "When did you get in?" she was asking now. "How long are you planning on staying?" The woman cupped Hunter's face in her hands. "Oh, it's so good to have you home, baby. I've missed you--we've all missed you..." her voice trailed off as she spotted something lying on the floor beside the bed. "What's this?" She bent over and picked it up, and it was then that Miranda realized that it was her rather skanky looking dress. "Do you have someone with you, Hunter?" There was no censure in the woman's voice, just curiosity.
Just then Hunter saw Miranda peaking out of the bathroom, and motioned her out. Running a self-conscious hand over her tangled hair, Miranda stepped forward and took Hunter's outstretched hand. "Maria, this is Miranda. Miranda, Maria has been my father's housekeeper since before I was born."
The old woman stepped forward. "It's a pleasure to meet you, child," she said and took Miranda's hands in hers. At the contact there was a moment of...something. Both Maria and Miranda started. Maria studied Miranda for a long moment, and Miranda was starting to feel uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny when Maria turned back to Hunter. "You'll be wanting some breakfast, I'd wager. And someone needs to tell your father that you're home." Maria nodded and, giving Miranda a cautious smile, slipped out of the room.
"I don't think she likes me," Miranda said, crossing her arms over herself. Her hand still tingled from the flash of whatever it was that had passed between herself and Maria.
"Don't be silly, Love. Maria likes everyone. She's just surprised. I've never brought a woman home with me before." He took her in his arms and nuzzled the side of her neck. "And not just any woman," he murmured, "but the most special, most wonderful woman in the world. The one carrying my child. The one I love!" Suddenly, with a laugh, Hunter picked her up and swung her around and around, until they were both dizzy and laughing like loons.
* * *
Breakfast was served in a craftily designed room combining the of elegance of a formal dining room with the comfort and relaxed atmosphere of a screen porch. It was a wing extending off the back of the house toward a cliff overlooking the ocean. Three sides were massive windows, open now to the fresh breeze. The table, easily large enough to hold a dozen or more people, was gleaming wood and glass.
Sitting at one end of the table, a plate of toast and scrambled eggs growing cold before him, cup of coffee in one hand, morning newspaper in the other, was a handsome older man. Miranda, holding Hunter's arm in a death grip as he escorted her into the room, suddenly knew what Hunter was going to look like in thirty years. The older man, undoubtedly Hunter's father, was the spitting image of his son, with the exception of wings of silver at his temples, and a few character wrinkles. He glanced up as they entered, and with a smile, he folded his paper and set the coffee aside. He stood as they approached.
"Welcome home, Son," he said.
"Thanks, Dad," Hunter replied with a smile. "It's good to be here." When his father turned to face Miranda, Hunter performed introductions. "Dad, this is Miranda. Miranda, my father, Robert."
Robert regarded the woman on his son's arm seriously. Maria had been troubled when she had come to tell him that his son was home, and with a strange woman. It took a lot to concern Maria, but she was rarely ever wrong. There was definitely something different about this young woman.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miranda. Are you hungry?"
"Yes, sir," she replied meekly. It was obvious she was intimidated by him. Good, he thought. Until he found out who she was and what she wanted with his son, the more wary she was of him, the better. He saw Hunter squeeze the girl's hand reassuringly. Obviously, Hunter was quite smitten.
"Then fill a plate and sit down." He gestured toward the interior wall, where a long sideboard held just about anything a person could want to eat for breakfast.
Miranda felt her mouth quirk at the sight of all that prepared food. She leaned closer to Hunter to whisper in his ear. "No wonder your cupboards and refrigerator were so bare. Did you ever cook for yourself before you left here?"
"Not if I could help it. Compared to Maria's cooking, mine is barely edible."
"I thought Maria was the housekeeper, not the cook."
Hunter grinned. "Maria does everything. I have yet to figure out how she has enough hours in the day, but this place is always clean as a whistle, the food is hot and delicious and my family is spoiled rotten. It was a great way to grow up."
Breakfast was a relatively pleasant affair. Hunter and Robert spent most of the time catching up on their lives. Hunter had been gone from the island for three years pursuing his education, and there was a lot of catching up to do. Miranda sat quietly, nibbling at a selection of fresh fruit and sipping her glass of fresh squeezed orange juice--Hunter had pushed it on her, muttering something about folic acid--and trying not to attract attention to herself. There was something about the way that Robert kept looking at her, as if he were suspicious of her in some way. It gave her the creeps.
