Hurricanes in Paradise, Denise Hildreth [ebook reader with internet browser .TXT] 📗

took a cruise of the Mediterranean and had traveled doing mission work in Ukraine. She had loved it back then. But now it seemed useless. Plus, until this exact moment, she had never traveled alone. She hugged her tote tighter against her meaty arm as she made the resolution not to call her children this entire week. They had sent her out here, so they could worry sick about her until she got home.

She passed a mirrored wall and turned toward her reflection. It sparkled. Her blue denim outfit was bejeweled and a declaration of her Nashvegas life. She ran her fingers through her snow-white locks, then patted her midsection.

Her body was also reflective of the years she’d traveled and the baggage she’d claimed. Her middle section had found companionship and she’d enjoyed the introductions. So, with no intentions of remarrying, she decided if her midsection made more friends along the way, she’d just see how far her elastic could stretch.

A picture of the Atlantis hotel was lit up on the wall in front of her. She caught her breath and turned her head. She and Sam had come here about fifteen years ago, and she didn’t like going to places they had been. She still avoided Friday night movies, Saturday morning walks, and the Japanese steak house. She was content to put those parts of her life behind her. That included travel. Those desires had died with Sam. And so had a part of her.

She exited the terminal with her Vera Bradley luggage. Salty air blew over her denim as she walked into the Bahamian afternoon sun. It was thick and warm, and as it passed over her, so did a smile and a slight hint of gratitude. Her children, however, would never know.

“You must be Mrs. Winnie Harris?”

Winnie turned toward the nice-looking man and set her tote on the ground. She tugged at the sleeve of her jacket and pulled it off. “And you must be Roy Rogers,” she laughed.

Roy reached up to help her out of her jacket. “I am. Are you ready for your car?”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching for the jacket he now held. Her thick arms were now fully visible from her sleeveless pink polo. “This is silly, though. I can take a cab. My kids shouldn’t have spent money on a car.”

Roy leaned over and placed his hand on her upper arm. “They want you to enjoy yourself. Plus, it’s not much more than the taxi fare anyway. Climb inside and relax. You’re on Bahamian time now,” he said as he moved his hand and opened the back door to a green 4Runner.

Winnie gave him a smirk and tilted her head. “You treat all the girls like this, Roy?”

“Only the beautiful ones, Miss Winnie. Only the beautiful ones.”

She slapped him playfully and climbed into the car.

He held the door for her, and when she had settled herself and buckled her seat belt, he spoke. “You should know, Miss Winnie, that these Bahamian waters have healing in them.”

“Now, don’t go throwing some voodoo mojo on me or something, Mr. Rogers. I’m a good old Baptist girl, and we don’t go for any of that stuff.”

Roy’s thick laugh came from his gut as his chest shook up and down. “No mojo, Miss Winnie. Just good, healing water. But there’s something you need to know about it.”

Her blue eyes widened.

“You can only find it if you’re willing to face your fears.”

She reached her hand out of the open car door and wagged her finger at him. “Roy, I’m not afraid of anything. I’m the principal of some of the toughest kids in Nashville, who tower head and shoulders over me. I just traveled all the way to the Bahamas at the age of seventy-two all by myself, and I’m trusting that you’re putting me in a car that’s going to take me to my hotel and not some side street where young boys are going to try and have their way with me. Even though I doubt any of them have had this much woman before.”

Roy’s laughter escaped again with a burst.

“But thanks for telling me. If I find someone who needs healing, I’ll let them know they’ve come to the right place.”

“You do that, Miss Winnie. You do that.” His laugh was still audible even after he closed the door.

Her driver was a thirtysomething Bahamian native named Florence. Florence gave her a tour of the city as they wove through the roads of Nassau on the wrong side of the street.

“Ooh, child. You like to ride up people’s butts over here, don’t you,” Winnie said as she pushed her body back into the seat as if that would create distance.

Florence laughed as she jerked the wheel and pulled them around a car that had been coasting in front of them. By the time Florence pulled up to the front of the hotel, Winnie regretted the fact that she had left her Depends at the house.

“Florence, any chance you’re going to be my driver when I leave here?” she asked when Florence opened the door to let her exit. She wasn’t asking out of hope.

“I don’t know, ma’am. Never can tell what my schedule’s going to be.”

She patted the driver’s arm with a slight tremble in her hand. “Well, don’t rush back on account of me, okay, honey?”

“I’ll drive you anywhere, anytime, Miss Winnie. You just call Roy and ask for me.”

“Sure, yeah, absolutely. But I think I’ll probably be staying here most of the time anyway. So don’t sit around waiting for Miss Winnie, okay?”

Florence laughed and climbed back into the car while a young valet retrieved her things.

“Where’s the bar, son? I think I need a drink.”

He laughed. “You can take your pick, ma’am. There are quite a few around here.”

She took in a deep breath and turned toward the lobby. The place was magnificent. Everything about it was modern elegance, yet timeless and classic. And it had a hipness to it too. She wished