Page 4 of Visions of You

Toward my new home.

Maia had called a few days previously and told me to take my time traveling down the Keys, and to enjoy the sites and the diving. I’d stayed in Key Largo for two days to dive some of the famous wrecks there, finding them plenty advanced for anyone’s taste. I’d been buddied up with a man who wasn’t quite up to the challenging conditions, and I’d spent as much time watching out for him as enjoying the enormous shipwrecks. But that was all in a day’s work for me and didn’t detract from the experience.

I passed a large flashing sign alerting drivers to watch out for Key deer and slowed down. I craned my neck around eagerly but didn’t see any of the tiny Lower Keys inhabitants. A smile rose on my face as I turned onto a road named Calypso Causeway, then crossed over a bridge to Dove Key. The smile wasn’t just due to my new surroundings. It was also the realization that for the first time in a very long while, I was happy.

I had a whole new life to start.

I’d left everything behind in St. Croix, including my emotional baggage and bruised heart. I’d always looked on the bright side, and around a year ago realized that facet of me was being inexorably worn down. A new job as a divemaster at Calypso Key Resort was exactly what I needed.

Along with a self-induced sabbatical from men. I’d proven I was lousy at picking them, so romance was officially off the table for me.

And that was tremendously freeing.

Dove Key was a decently sized island and town, though it only had two main streets, intersecting at the single traffic light. As I passed a ramshackle tavern called Salty’s, a long metal building stretched in the distance along a bluff to my left. A sign alongside the road pointed toward it, proclaiming the long structure the Conch Republic Brewpub.

But exploring could wait. I continued on Calypso Causeway and the buildings thinned out, a fringe of scrubby brush and mangroves replacing them eventually. I traveled over a short bridge connectingthe island to its smaller, southern neighbor, Calypso Key. The paved road rose in a gentle climb, and I could barely glimpse a sizeable multi-story house, screened by trees and brush, along a sheer bluff to my left. I reached the crest of the hill and the remainder of the island spread out before me to the south. I continued slowly rolling down the asphalt road.

Most of the western half was undeveloped, a large expanse of marsh and mangrove wetlands. Along the eastern side of the key, a road branched off toward the house and several other nearby buildings. After passing a grassy meadow decorated by several flame trees, a long two-story building appeared on my left. Two large sliding doors were open, and I spied machinery inside as I drove by.

The road ended in two parking lots, a sand one facing east and a larger, neatly paved one on my right. Directly ahead lay an airy, one-story white building. Maia had sent a text with preliminary instructions, so I pulled into the sandlot and parked next to several other employee vehicles. Maia Markham and I had recently reconnected after meeting six years ago. When she’d offered me a position at her family’s resort, the opportunity was too good to pass up. The position became even more enticing after she arranged living quarters for me too.

Excitement quickened my pulse as I turned off the engine and studied a protected canal with several buildings behind it. A red flag with a diagonal white stripe running through it flew from the top of the largest building. The entire area was neat and clean, which pleased me since I was staring at my new domain.

The dive operation.

Grabbing my phone out of my purse, I sent Maia a text, letting her know I’d arrived.

Then I studied the resort around me. A lawn of neat green grass lay behind the parking lot, surrounding the long structure housing the machinery. A sand path led from the buildings on the bluff and passed near the long building. More flame trees threw shade over the area and farther to the south, I spotted a row of palm trees.

The white building where the road ended was of considerable size. I assumed it was the lobby and other resort facilities. My text tone pinged, and I grabbed my phone.

Maia: Welcome! I’ll meet you in the lobby in a couple minutes.

After texting back a thumbs-up, I took a deep breath and exited the car.

Let’s get this show going.

I crossed the parking lot and climbed a short flight of steps onto a covered porch. Twin doors painted a soft blue were propped open, and I entered a bright, breezy room cooled by ceiling fans. A long wooden counter lay directly across from me. It was staffed by a woman currently helping guests, and several blue couches and armchairs were spaced around the room. Soft music played from hidden speakers, and the lobby exuded a cozy, old-school tropical vibe. Several framed pictures drew my eye, and I crossed a weathered but clean wooden floor, the boards squeaking under my sandals.

Three color prints were prominently displayed, and I immediately recognized Maia, who smiled at the camera, her brunette hair pulled into a ponytail.Maia Markham-Taylor, Lead Divemasterread a small placard beneath. I smiled at her new name—she had been married less than two months. Next to Maia, a man with somewhat lighter hair and a full, bushy beard smiled at me. Evan Markham was the general manager. A third, larger picture was centered above both of an older man. He had Maia’s eyes and darker hair with a liberal amount of gray, but he carried an obvious resemblance to both siblings. The placard read Warren Markham, Owner.

The sound of footsteps trotting up the stairs reached me. “April! You’re here!”

I spun around, my blond braid swishing to one side, and broke into a grin as Maia ran toward me. I held out my arms and we hugged. She was taller and nearly knocked me back.

“Sorry it took me so long, but I’m here at last.”

Maia pulled back and patted my arms. “Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t have predicted an earthquake. Was everything okay when you left?”

My departure from St. Croix had been delayed several weeks due to damage caused by an earthquake. My former employer had been injured in the quake and I couldn’t very well take off and leave them—him—in a lurch when he’d been unable to work.

Employer. That’s a good one. But men are in the past. Especially ones in love with someone else.

I smiled at Maia. “Yes. The island is more or less recovered, and Alex is back to work. Half Moon Bay Resort needed some repairs, but they’re back on their feet now. And I’m extremely excited to be here.”

Maia’s expression sharpened, but she didn’t press the point. She knew about the torch I’d carried for Alex Monroe for an embarrassing number of years, a romance that had only been on my side. And once he’d met the woman who was now his wife, I’d done my best to bury my feelings and find someone else.

Which had been another disaster.

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