1 Chapter 1

There he was, the guide from Dominica Paradise Tours, and perhaps one of the handsomest men Rainn had ever seen. Strong chested, broad shoulders, caramel skin, and a brilliant smile. The guide recognized Rainn this time. After all, the minibus only seated ten, and this was Rainn’s third tour. The guide smiled and scratched his chin. The smile reached his eyes, and Rainn felt weak.

“Come sit up here by me,” the guide said, his bronze face beaming. He moved some papers and patted the seat to his left. Rainn felt his stomach go fluttery, bit his lip, and moved past the other tourists. Rainn did not feel he handled loneliness well, and his time in Dominica had been the loneliest he could remember. Even this small act of companionship soothed him.

“Sam, isn’t it?” Rainn asked. Rainn mentally kicked himself. How disingenuous could he be? Of course, he knew the guide’s name. He’d requested to be on Sam’s tour the last time. And this time.

Sam grinned. “Um, yes. That’s me. And you are?”

“Rainn.”

Sam gave him a mischievous, lop-sided smile as if he could read Rainn’s thoughts of the tour guide ravishing him. The look disappeared, and Sam stuck out his hand. “Rainn is a good name for Dominica. Pleased to meet you, my friend. Though we have met before, I believe.”

“Yes, actually. I, uh, I’m learning a lot.”

Sam winked. “That is good because, for you, there will be a quiz later.” He narrowed his eyebrows. “You’ve been here more than a week, haven’t you? And you’re American?”

“Yes.”

Sam stroked his chin. “A longer vacation? Or have you moved here?”

“Oh, well, not a vacation but I’m not here permanently either.”

“Perhaps a medical student then?”

Rainn looked down. “Oh, gosh no. I didn’t even get through college.”

Sam nodded but didn’t respond. The last of the other tourists had settled into their seats, and Sam began his tour. He talked about the history of French and English rule and of native Kalinago still living on part of the island. Soon they reached an overlook where the tourists could take pictures of their cruise ships and the colorful town of Roseau. Sam stepped out of the bus with the group.

“So,” began Rainn, “both Tropical Storm Erika and Hurricane Maria? That must have been horrible.”

“We’re still recovering,” said Sam. “Which is why we’re glad to have visitors take our tours more than once.” He pointed at Rainn’s cloth satchel. “You could have left your bag on the—did you buy groceries at the Save-a-Lot?”

Rainn nodded. “Some fruit and some bread. Gosh, the climate must do something strange to the bread here. It goes bad so fast.”

Sam laughed. “No, you Americans do something strange called ‘preservatives.’ You buy bread every two days here and you’re fine.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re not a medical student, but you’re here for work, perhaps?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re too shy to tell me more information unless I ask,” said Sam with a grin. “That’s okay. I’ll figure out the mystery.”

Rainn laughed. He studied Sam’s profile and thought to do detective work, too. He seemed lighter-skinned than many of his country folk. There was a slight wave to his hair, including a copper-colored forelock he regularly smoothed. Rainn figured Sam was of mixed descent—something they sort of had in common.

Back on the bus, Rainn asked where the locals sheltered during hurricanes.

Sam smiled. “Folks,” he said to the whole group, “our friend, Rainn, is apparently here in Dominica to stay, and he appears to be concerned about the storms.”

The tour group, mostly senior citizens, laughed gently. The lady nearest him patted his shoulder.

“You’ll be fine,” Sam said. “We mostly shelter in government schools and the bigger churches. We take good care of each other.”

Sam pointed at a sign that said, “Sukie’s Bread. Eat It By Choice, Not By Chance.” Next to the sign stood a tiny wooden shack that sold provisions. “We need to stop for a moment to get Rainn better bread than what he has. All of you will try it.”

Sam honked and a thin, grizzled man emerged from the shack. The guide held money out the window, and in short order, the older man returned with several loaves. Sam passed around the loaves after breaking off some for Rainn. The bread was warm, soft, and doughy.

“What flower is that on those trees?” a lady in a floppy hat asked.

“The orange one? African tulip trees. You’ll find them throughout the Caribbean.”

“And what about those over there?” she asked, pointing out the window.