Twenty minutes later she was driving onto The Port property. She pulled into an available parking space and got out. She arched her back and stretched her arms high over her head then took a look around.
Not much had changed that she could determine since the last time she’d visited. But knowing Desiree and Lincoln, Mr. & Mrs. DIY, she was sure that there were many new changes yet to be discovered.
Layla grabbed her oversized purse from the passenger seat, shut the car door and walked into the reception area.
A gorgeous young woman who looked as if she’d been carved out of polished ebony wood greeted her.
“Welcome to The Port. My name is Gina. Do you have a reservation or would you like a tour?”
“Hello, Gina. Umm, I’m actually a friend of Desi and Lincoln. I’m going to be doing massage therapy for the summer.”
Gina’s brows lifted and her lush mouth widened into a brilliant smile displaying two rows of even white teeth. “Of course. Mrs. Davenport told me to expect you. Let me tell her you’re here.” She picked up a phone on the desk, spoke briefly then glanced up at Layla. “Follow me, Ms. Brooks.”
Much of what Layla remembered since her last visit was the same. The Port was still a classy place, from the high-end furnishings to the sense of elegance, style and professionalism that seemed to ooze from the staff. She did notice some new artwork, and a humungous flat screen television that served as an entertainment medium, and also provided updates about The Port and the town of Sag Harbor that scrolled across the bottom.
Layla followed Gina down the short hallway to where she remembered Desiree’s office to be. Gina tapped lightly on the partially opened door.
“Come in,” rang out the cheery voice.
“Your friend Ms. Brooks is here.” Gina headed back to the front.
Before Layla could put one foot in front of the other the door swung fully open and Desiree burst out like sunshine after a storm.
“Layla!” Desiree swept her friend up in a tight hug then stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “How was the drive?”
“A breeze. You look fabulous. And happy.”
Desiree had opted for a short, natural spiral hairstyle and her complexion fairly glowed from the inside out.
“Thanks and I am.” She beamed, then a frown tightened her brow. She glanced around the space where Layla stood. “Where are your bags?”
“In the car.”
“Oh,” she breathed in relief, pressing her hand to her chest. “For a minute I thought you weren’t planning to stay.” She hooked her arm through Layla’s. “Let’s get your bags and I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
“I’m not sure for how long, but I have enough clothes and accessories to last me a minute.”
Desiree laughed. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
They walked arm-in-arm out of the main building and across the landscaped front. Desiree had one of the staff gather Layla’s bags from her car and bring them to her room.
“I’m so glad that you decided to come,” Desiree said while she turned the key in the cottage door lock. “You’re going to love it and my guests are going to love you.” She swung the door open and they stepped inside.
As Layla expected, the space was beautiful. Pale walls and whitewashed floors gave the rooms an expansive, open aired feeling and the rattan furnishings, glass accessories and the bay windows topped it off. Although The Port had a full-service restaurant and bar as well as room service, each cabin came with its own fully functional kitchen.
Layla’s cabin looked out onto the beach and down the pathway that branched right and left with a cabin on each side of comparable size to hers.
She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and turned toward Desiree with a broad smile on her face. “Beautiful.”
Desiree took a mock bow. “And you’re going to have a ball. I’ll leave you to get settled. When you’re ready come on over to the main building. Lincoln can’t wait to see you.”
“Okay. Give me about an hour.”
“See you then.”
Desiree let herself out and Layla took her bags to the bedroom and began to unpack. She laid out an outfit and then went into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Wrapped in a thick, pale peach towel, Layla padded around her new digs and she had to admit, from the moment that she’d stepped onto the property and inhaled the ocean-washed air and spectacular views, she felt lighter inside. All of the worry and stress of everything related to home evaporated. She went into the seating area and turned on the stereo, and then two-stepped to the beat back into her bedroom.
Totally refreshed, and dressed for the sultry spring afternoon, Layla followed the path back to the main building and took in the sights along the way.
Maurice Lawson lounged beneath the shade of the blue and white striped canopy that hung above his back deck. His injured leg was elevated on a pillow. Absently, he rubbed his upper thigh while he watched the waves gently move in and out from the shore. The temperature was perfect, and the light breeze blowing off the water combined for a near hypnotic effect. Although he’d been reluctant to take his therapist’s advice, he was glad that he’d come. The past few nights were the first in months that he wasn’t awakened by the nightmares. Simply being able to rest through the night was beginning to have a positive effect on his spirit.
It was hooking up with Ross that finally changed his mind.
There’d been several moments of panic when he’d pulled up in front of Ross’s Long Island home. He’d sat in his car debating on whether to get out and go inside. But then the front door to the house opened and Ross stepped out and all the time apart slipped away. It didn’t matter to Ross and Janet that he’d been hurt or that he’d cut them off for so long or that he was seeing a shrink to try to get his head right. All that mattered was that their friend was alive and he was back.
He and Ross talked long after the last guest went home. They talked until the sun rose, and when he returned to his apartment in Brooklyn he felt almost human. Human enough to take Ross and Janet and Dr. Morrison’s advice and go to Sag Harbor. Do some thinking and some soul searching. And whatever he decided, they would be there for him when he returned.
He rested his head against the back of the chair and was just about to close his eyes and let the pain medication settle in when movement to his right drew his attention. At first he thought that perhaps it was an apparition, a vision like the ones he would see at the end of the tunnel of light—beckoning him through those painful nights of recovery. That light and the ethereal image at the end of it were the only things that gave him hope and the will to go on. He hadn’t seen the vision since he’d left the military hospital in Afghanistan, until now.
But it wasn’t his imagination and the image wasn’t a result of hallucinations from the pain. She was real and she moved as if walking on air. The lightweight white clothing that she wore gently floated around her, lifted by the gentle breeze.
Maurice sat up a bit to see where she was going, and to convince himself that she was real. She turned a corner, and disappeared behind one of the houses. He stared at the space where she’d been until his vision blurred. He shook his head and blinked his eyes several times to clear them. The strange, unsettling sensation rippled in the center of his stomach.
“Crazy,” he muttered to himself and tried to push the moment aside. He closed his eyes, leaned back and let the medication do its work. He dozed lightly and the one thing that he remembered when he awoke and found the sun setting down beyond the horizon was that he’d dreamed of the illuminated image again.