Lessons

Lessons

He woke with the sun and had breakfast while leaning naked against the counter in his kitchen. The smell of garlic still hung in the air from the previous night, overlaid with the smells of butter and toast, fruits and hot chocolate. The breeze brought the fragrance of the ocean into the house as well, and Carlos ate quickly so he could continue what he had begun.

Today, he would begin to teach Rose and Hugo how to swim. In addition, he wanted to prove to Tessa that he was neither dangerous nor a bastard. She might have talked to him so far, she might have even opened up a bit, but he knew with certainty that she mistrusted him. On occasions, he had seen her pursing her lips at the sight of him playing ball with Rose and Hugo; once, she had shook her head, had balled her fists as if she wanted to hinder him getting so close to her children. It had hurt him more than he had thought.

Carlos deeply disliked being mistrusted. Before he had come to the island, most people who had known him had mistrusted and even hated him. Being a spy hadn't done anything for his reputation; being cruel, lonely, mistrusting himself had ruined him as much as it had ruined the one friendship he had managed to build up back then. He had been a man with various skills, but none of them had enabled him to open up to others. This had only changed when he had fled his old life, a wounded and broken man with a horrible past and no future at all. He had needed to change in order to survive, and he had managed it only because here, people hadn't known him and thus hadn't had a reason to shun his company. Here he had found friends. Very soon, he had realised that he liked it.

He wanted Tessa to trust him, and he wanted her to look at him without that guarded expression on her beautiful face. He wanted her friendship and he wanted to make her smile.

Draining his cup and putting it into he sink, he put on clothes and his sunglasses, then left the house. He couldn't deny that he longed to see her, that he felt a certain pull towards her. Maybe it was her melancholy, maybe the secrets she kept. "Could be a bit of both," he murmured whilst he strolled along the beach. "Could be as well that she already means more to me than I am willing to admit."

**************************

When he reached the beach near her hotel, he saw her sitting on her towel. The children played hide and seek with a few local boys. Tessa, as usual, was covered from head to toes in clothes. When he got closer, when his shadow touched hers, he could smell the faint fragrance of the sun lotion.

He smiled. He liked that something he had made touched her pale, soft skin.

"Buenos dias," he said, and she looked up at him, her eyes, as always, hidden behind her sunglasses. But so were his, and he didn't mind. In the end, she would take them off; at least he hoped so.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice tight. From the way she held her head and her body, he could see that she hadn't slept well. Her hands were covered by sand once more. "Carlos. I don't know how to put this, but..." She sighed. Then she crossed her arms over her chest. It was a defensive gesture, and he knew what she would say.

He curved his lips, not mockingly but with genuine sympathy – he knew exactly which strings of thoughts she had followed last night. "You are afraid of me, Tessa, are you not?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Then nodded, once. She didn't lie. That was good.

"You think I chose you as my prey; you think I consider you vulnerable, and you are afraid that I will hurt you. More, you are terrified that, if you trust me, I will hurt your son and your daughter. You lay awake all night, you couldn't sleep, and you want to tell me to get the hell away from you." Still standing, he considered it a wise move to reduce his height by sitting down next to her in the soft, warm, white sand.

She swallowed hard. "How do you know this?" she asked him, coldness dripping from each word. "I am not your prey. I am no-one's prey, and don't you dare tell me I am easy to read, because I am not. So how come you know all this?"

If he weren't careful now, she would jump up and leave. He didn't want her to, though, and the sudden, unexpected strength of emotions that rushed through him took him totally by surprise. For a moment, he just observed her, took in her defensive posture, her drawn up legs, her set jaws. Every inch of her tall, slender body spoke of the fact that she was a fighter. There was steel in her soft, gentle voice.

He had brought a rucksack, filled with water, two small kickboards, a towel, and some peaches. The latter he took out and offered one to her, simply because he needed some time to find an answer to her accusation. It was not yet ten in the morning, but if the look on her face was anything to go by, she was not only tired, but hungry as well. "Have a peach," he said. "It is not poisoned. And you are easy to read simply because your fears at least partly concern you children."

For several heartbeats, she just looked at him and at the peach as if she feared either of them would bite her. Finally, she took the fruit and brought it slowly to her lips. When she took a bite and the juice ran down her chin, he could barely keep himself from wiping off the drops.

"Delicious," she sighed with delight. "Where did you buy them?"

Carlos relaxed at those words. He assumed that right now, two needs fought in her. The first was the urge to protect her children and, therefore, to stay away from him. The other one was the hope that he was who he claimed to be: a harmless man who was interested in her company and nothing else. "The peaches grow in my back garden," he replied and quirked his lips. "I thought you might like one."

Just as she finished the last bite, rolling the stone between her beautiful fingers, he continued, "And yes, you are prey. My prey. I am very much interested in you, and this is the reason why I know, for example, you have slept poorly and haven't eaten. I can see it because I like you. I assume you fear me because you already know I want you. It is simple, really. I want to spend time with you, talk to you, be with you. And of course I want you in my bed."

She dropped the stone.

"And you are scared you might give in to me although you are married."

"Who are you?" she said, a rasp in her voice. "How do you... read my mind so easily?"

For some reason, he wanted to tell her the truth, the full truth. Carefully, he said, "Once, my life depended on my ability to read others, to assume correctly what they thought or what they wished for. Back then I used... unfair methods to reach my goal. I didn't with you. I just observe. I guess. I make assumptions and hope I hit the target. Maybe I should apologise. But I have the strong feeling that you would like me to know you. Am I right?"

The sparse nod she gave him spoke more of her hope and loneliness than any words could have done.

Checking that the children couldn't hear his words, he said, "I live in the mountains. Alone. Every now and then, I crave company, and I come to the beach to choose... a companion for a little while. When I saw you, I knew I wanted you."

"Don't say that," she said stiffly. "You don't..."

"I want you, Tessa!" Gently, he touched her, brought his hand to her face, and traced one of her eyebrows just above the sunglasses. She seemed too shocked at his words to move, so he continued, "But it is entirely your decision what will happen. I want you in my bed, but if that won't happen, I'll be equally happy to just keep you company, as well as your children. They are adorable, and so are you. Your choice. You now know what I'm after. You. If you think this is too much for you, tell me and I'll leave you alone."

It took her several attempts to answer, and what she said stunned him. He would have expected her to comment on him calling her prey, or scolding him for his blunt words. Instead, she said, "I'm not adorable!" There was a half-bitter, half amused rasp in her voice. "I'm too tall and too thin and far too pale. I'm impolite and I am married and why on earth would a man like you want someone as awkward as me?" She even moved back a bit, and he so very badly wished he could see her eyes to find out if she really meant what she said. Could it be she didn't know how wonderful she was?

Instinctively, he reached out a hand to touch her cheek, to comfort her, to reassure her. Only in the last second did he rein himself in. It was not the time to touch her again; not yet.

The breeze played with the loose strands of her hair; they seemed to call for him, and he wanted to feel their silken smoothness. "You are more than adorable." His voice was firm, and he didn't hide his surprise at her denial. "You are bright and beautiful, and I have no idea why you don't know this. I already suspected that your marriage is... not perfect. Now I know for sure. Your husband should tell you at least every now and then how beautiful you are."

He could nearly see her narrowing her eyes, even behind the dark glasses. Her voice was definitely bitter when she stated, "My husband has more important things to do than telling me sweet lies."

Getting up, he felt sand gush down his legs. He was truly shocked at her words, but right now, he couldn't do anything about it. He neither could prove that he meant what he had said, so instead, he decided that now was a good time to keep a promise he had given. "I'll be in the water with Rose. Yesterday evening I swore an oath to teach her how to swim. In my bag, I have a kickboard for her, and as you will be sitting here, watching us, you can make sure I won't try and eat her up. Is that all right for you, for today?"

Snorting once, as if she couldn't believe she didn't send him away, she nodded and began to build a little sandcastle right in front of her feet.

*****************************

"No! Not yet! Just once more, Carlos, please!" Rose begged and flung her thin arms round his neck.

"Please, please, please," added Hugo and waded back into the water, right after Carlos had sent him out to get into dry clothes.

Carlos laughed and let Rose slip back into the waves. "Once more. Whilst you swim after the kickboard, I will help your brother to stay above the surface for more than a second. Afterwards, we will get out, you will get dressed, and I will take your mother for a swim. Deal?"

"Deal!" squeaked the little girl and splashed away in the shallow water, parallel to the beach and with the ground only a few feet below. She could have reached it at any time, but was very determined to learn how to swim. Concentrating, she moved her arms and legs the way Carlos had shown for the first time three days ago, and made as much noise as a small rhinoceros, chasing the board.

Hugo smiled a big, happy smile at him when Carlos lifted him up and fell with him backwards into the water. The waves embraced them, and they dunked under, were caught in salty darkness for a moment before they reached the sun and the air again. "Now then, Hugo – imagine your legs have turned into frog legs. My hand is under your belly, so swim. I will make sure you don't drown," Carlos encouraged the little boy and was proud that Hugo tried his best.

This here was a first for him. He had never before approached a woman with children – his former lovers had arrived on the island either with friends or husbands. To lure a woman away from her spouse was a delicate manoeuvre, and he wasn't successful each time. To talk a woman away from her friends was equally difficult, as he knew the girls talked about him in the evenings when he wasn't around. But to make a woman allow him to be with her children was definitely the most satisfying way to reach his goal. Especially when the children where so open and friendly as those two. They had been delighted at his offer for swimming lessons and had plunged head first into the adventure. Neither child had commented on the fact that he wasn't their father, neither had been bothered that he looked different from the natives as well as from the tourists.

Hugo, curious as he was, had placed his chubby little hand on the bright tattoo on his shoulder. "Nice flower," he had said before he stole the kickboard from his sister and attempted to drown himself.

Checking on the little girl, Carlos had to admit that Rose was a beauty already. Bushy, chestnut-coloured hair, big blue eyes, and a whole universe of freckles supported perfectly the intelligence in her smile and the friendliness of her soul. She was a fast learner and would be able to swim properly by the end of the holiday – she was already able to coordinate her movements without any problems. Her interest had been sparked by the silver bracelet Carlos wore around his left wrist. With one fingertip she had traced it, had tried to read the engraved runes and had asked him why he was wearing it. Before he could tell her a lie, she had stated, "My daddy doesn't wear any jewellery," not realising that she had just revealed to her swimming teacher that her father didn't wear a wedding ring, either. "He says it bothers him at work. And Mummy left her ring at home. She wants to become tanned all over."

Carlos didn't answer, sincerely doubting that Tessa's reasoning had been that easy.

The sun would be setting in an hour, and Carlos dragged the two children out of the water back to their towels. Tessa wrapped up Rose, Carlos made sure Hugo was sand-free and dry before he put his shirt and shorts on. With slightly blue lips, both children sat in the still warm sand and watched as Carlos reached out a hand towards their mother.

She looked at him questioningly.

"We will go for a swim, you and I," he stated calmly. "You promised me yesterday. A promise must be kept."

Tessa shook her head and looked away. She wore the big hat again, and every inch of her body apart from face, hands, and feet was covered with fabric. "I don't swim," she answered.

Carlos dropped to his knees right before her. "You do, and you promised it."

Tessa blushed.

"Mummy, the water is really warm," Rose said and nudged her mother.

Hugo added earnestly, "Carlos can rescue you if you drown."

Getting up gracefully, Tessa swiped the sand off her trousers. Leaning in close, she whispered, "I look horrible in a swim suit," into his ear. "I'm bony and as white as a fish's belly. Not a pleasant sight. Please, spare me the humiliation."

Carlos touched her for the first time since he had traced her eyebrow. A loose strand of her lanky hair floated in the wind and tickled his check. Gently, mockingly, he tucked it behind her ear. "You will stay white if you don't get out of your clothes," he whispered back. "Believe me, I know what I'm talking about – I once was much paler than you are now." Carelessly, he took off his glasses and threw them onto the towel. Squeezing his eyes shut against the sun, he didn't see that she had taken hers off as well.

"I can't," she insisted half-heartedly, but her daughter pushed her onto her bottom and began tugging at her skirt. Hugo, always up to mischief, stole his mother's hat, and after losing a hard fight with Rose for the blouse, Tessa was wearing nothing but a plain black swimsuit. It revealed nothing and hid nothing; she seemed translucent in the evening sun despite the gentle redness that had crept under her skin from head to toes.

He managed not to look at her too closely, guessing she would blush even deeper if he did. For some reason, she covered her body behind wide clothing although she didn't need to. She was tall and very slender, and he wished he had the leisure to devour her with his eyes.

Instead, he held out his hand once more and this time, she took it. They walked down to the water side by side, and he let go of her hand only when she stood waist deep in the waves, shivering.

The perfect moment to look deeply into her eyes. If only she would have looked at him, too.

"Swim with me," he dared her. "Let's see if you can swim at all."

Tessa raised her chin, a strangely familiar gesture. Without the sunglasses, her face was changed, looked different and vulnerable at the same time. As the evening sun was right in front of them, he couldn't figure out her eye colour, though. "Of course I can swim," she snapped and delved in, leaving him behind.

Instantly, he went after her. The water was warm and tender, caressing his skin, easing his mind. He loved the ocean, and he hurried to get after her with a few strong strokes. Under water, he brushed her ankles and came up, swimming slightly behind her and admiring her sparse, precise movements.

The ocean stretched endlessly before them – endlessly and invitingly. Involuntarily, he got reminded of the time when he had dived into this ocean for the first time, dreaming of not returning to the beach, of swimming until all strength would leave him, of sinking into the fathomless, black depths. That had been before he had realised that there was a life waiting for him – a life so very different from his old one that the prospect of actually living it life had been fascinating enough to give it a try.

Maybe she needs a different life as well, he thought. Maybe this is the reason why I have chosen her: because she needs a new life and because I can offer her a way out of her old one.

But this was nonsense, of course. She was just a tourist he wanted in his bed; she would go back to her husband in less than two weeks time.