Beyond Secrets

By Natalie Da Breo

Candice St. John is an Emergency Room doctor from Atlanta Georgia. She travels to the beautiful and romantic island of Saint Lucia to establish an emergency care system at the New National Hospital on the Scenic Millennium Highway. When she arrives on the island she is picked up at the airport by a handsome, Frenchman Damian Brandon Jolicoeur who has so immersed himself into the Saint Lucian culture that he has become as informal as his hosts. Having emerged only recently from a failed relationship with an eminent oncologist at Emory University Hospital, Candice vows to remain single. But she soon finds the Frenchman irresistible. Eventually she concedes that she has fallen in love with Damian who withholds his emotional attachment to Candice because of his secrets. Amid the tension of her relationship with Damian, Candice learns to temper her love against the realities of Damian’s situation and eventually completes her healing from past disappointments. After a major accident on the island’s west coast, a Chikungunya epidemic, a hurricane and the threat of Ebola all of which drew the couple together, Damian makes some admissions of his own. With their secrets unveiled, both Candice and Damian must now consider the next best step after St. Lucia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Nov 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9789768254092

Book preview

Island Passions:

A Series of Life, Love and Romance

Beyond Secrets

Beyond Secrets

Copyright © 2016 Natalie Da Breo

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reprinted, reproduced, published, copied or disseminated in any form or manner without the prior written permission of the author.

NOTICE

This work of fiction features names, characters, events, places and things that were created within the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Readers are encouraged not to construe any part of this storyline as real. Any similarity drawn between persons (living or dead), places, events, organizations and/or institutions is merely coincidental and not deliberately intended to prejudice the reader’s mind.

ISBN: 978-976-8254-09-2

bbean PIE Productions Castries, Saint Lucia

Tel: [phone]

Printed in United States

DEDICATION

To My Dear Father

for teaching me to turn pictures into words.

Thanks.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Edited By:

Andrew Sealy

Proof Read By:

Hyacinth Da Breo

Front Cover:

Dexter Felix

Back Cover:

Roger Skeete

Design:

Raphael Philip

Interior Text Design

Augustin Hinkson

Special Thanks To :

Augustin Hinkson

Chapter 1

C

andice was happy for a safe and smooth landing. As the plane touched the tarmac, her finger-tips clinched deeply into the arm of the seat and her legs tilted at the knees as far back as they could go in economy class seating. She had arrived! A triumphant feeling that she had finally conquered her fear of air travel gripped her, and she smiled.

The prospect of spending one year in a foreign country helping the government establish an accident and emergency system at the new general hospital was not daunting at all. In fact it was exciting. This is the type of project she’d hoped to work on when she was at medical school. She had always felt that if she became a doctor, she would make a positive difference in the lives of her loved ones and strangers as well.

As the airplane taxied to the terminal, she began to think of her plans. She visualized the difference she could make, and what she could accomplish in one year before returning home. She hoped to leave a tangible mark on the health system in St. Lucia, a small tropical island in the heart of the Caribbean Sea.

The Doctors Without Borders agent who had recruited Candice to work in St. Lucia had told her of a desperate need for support there. The only accident and emergency specialist on island was off on a sabbatical for the second part of a two year stint. The government needed support at the new national hospital, partly because public expectations about the quality of service had risen significantly, since the old worn out building had been replaced with the new expansive property on the scenic Millennium Highway.

A series of unfortunate incidents had done nothing to improve public confidence. To add insult to injury, according to the agent, there was a shortage of almost everything including medication, machinery, and senior medical staff at the hospital.

The dire situation was just what Candice needed to submerge herself into. She did not need a week, or a day or an hour or even a minute to consider the offer. She could afford to work without a proper salary for one year, and she would spare the time.

Now two months later, on a hot Tuesday afternoon, she was making her way down the steps of a Boeing 747 towards a small two storey building with a sign on the outer wall that said ‘welcome to St. Lucia,’ and another that said ‘Immigration’. There was no landing platform - just a simple and short walk on the bitumen pavement to the building.

The humidity ran straight through her palms and she wiped her neck with her forearm; she would need a new wardrobe. Through the automatic sliding doors there was air conditioned comfort. The building was basic from the outside but within the structure there was an ambiance that brought her immediate comfort and contentment. Or, was it the air conditioning? She could not tell, but she was happy she’d arrived.

The immigration officer was the most pleasant she’d ever met, but then, he was only the second immigration officer Candice had ever interacted with in an official capacity at least. The first one, she’d met when she was departing from the United States of America.

Ah Dr. St. John. We’ve been expecting you, he said with a warm smile. Welcome to our island. The government has arranged your travel to the city. Let me have your passport please.

He asked no questions, pulled a stamp from the right draw of his desk, made some adjustments to it, inked it up, and pressed it down onto her passport.

You are free to leave. There will be someone waiting for you on the outside.

Thank you, she replied in amazement. Traveling was not an unpleasant experience after all. If she’d known this before, she may have left the United States to vacation abroad years ago. But then, there was that small factor of the big bird in the sky that scared her out of her wits.

As she walked towards the customs desk, the immigration officer shouted to her, we’re happy you’re here.

Maybe it was too early to say, but Candice was already feeling that she’d made the right decision. If the immigration officer was anything like the St. Lucian people, then she could expect gratitude and hospitality and that would be most comforting in a strange land.

And at least she was not in a faraway, vague and unknown place on the map where roads were scarce, lying on the edge of mountains and in terrible condition. At least she could get wireless from her phone to text her sister to tell her that she’d arrived safely. Then she sent a message to her mother and one to her father. Sometimes she felt that their divorce meant that she had to live two lives and do everything twice. But those complications were in the US and she was in St. Lucia now.

She tried to stay positive. Even memories of the last four years, wasted in a relationship that died an unnatural death at the end of her last stint at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta, were buried at the back of her mind. During her soon to begin work stint in St. Lucia, Candice wanted to focus on the people of St. Lucia; not on men or relationships, and certainly not on the regrets of her past. It was going to be her good deed for humanity and she was going to get through it all with a glad heart.

As she walked out of the building on the other end, she could feel the extreme change of temperature once again, and all of a sudden she became extremely exhausted. All she wanted was to find that person with the sign who would drive her to the rented accommodation that had been pre-arranged. She would take a nap before unpacking her luggage or even looking around.

This is probably what people call ‘jet lag,’ she thought quietly.

And there he was; tall, blond, tanned, young and handsome. He wore dark construction boots, a rugged pair of jeans and a white tee-shirt. He was not what she’d expected. Something about him didn’t look island style. He looked like a foreigner!

Suddenly her mood changed from excited to disappointed. Why would they send this man to meet her? Were they deliberately grouping outsiders together? This could not be! She’d heard too many good things about Saint Lucians to condemn them so early in the game.

There must have been a reasonable explanation for this and she was sure she would get it from the guy. Maybe the person who was scheduled to meet her had a family emergency or was outside waiting in the car.

Hello. Mademoiselle St. John, he said with a distinctly French accent.

Now there was another obvious problem. Her weakness for handsome men with French accents could compromise her ability to think logically in the heat of the noon day sun. She would make every effort to ignore the way he twisted his words, rolled his tongue and stuck in the odd French word or phrase as they all do. Why should she distinguish between one French man and the next? They all sounded the same.

Yes. Candice is fine, she said, looking straight through him to see if the right person was coming from somewhere behind.

Welcome.

I should tell you the same thing. She said with a note of sarcasm as she walked past him to a destination unknown.

He followed closely on her heels, and tried to grab the handle of her suitcase from one or two steps behind.

Touche, he said. I am from France.

I guessed that much, she replied, her words hanging in the air. She could also have said, Obviously!

He could see that she was not impressed, but he, on the other hand, liked what he saw more than words could express. When he had been asked to go to the airport to pick up an American doctor, he never tried to visualize the person; he’d just hopped into his vehicle and drove with a willingness to oblige. For his part, he certainly did not expect the person his eyes now be held.

It wasn’t so much her long flowing hair; he could see at the roots that she was a brunette before she became a blond; or her tight waist and wide hips, neither was it her long legs making her all of five feet nine inches tall; but the total package that impressed him. And he could see clearly, even from their short encounter, that her sassy personality meant that with her, there could never be a dull moment.

Damian felt a sense of discomfort though, as if she resented his presence because he seemed to represent everything that St. Lucia is not.

I know the island very well, was his lame effort at justification.

She did not reply. He was finally able to pry the suitcase out of her hands, and then he overtook her and swung a tight left.

The heat was sharpened by the noise. There was so much activity at the airport that it hardly felt like a small island vibe. But somewhere in the distance Candice could see the sea and she knew that it would be her personal delight during this one year stint.

She had planned her routine before her departure from Atlanta, and daily visits to the beach factored high on her list of priorities. In fact, she had planned everything in her life for the next three years. It wasn’t written in stone but she had used a pen, then typed it into her computer and saved it on the hard drive; she’d emailed it to herself and impressed it on the foremost part of her mind.

It included one year in St. Lucia, the purchase of a new duplex property with a potential rental income in her home state, and some other financial targets. No note had been made of establishing a personal intimate relationship with anyone. In fact, she’d made special note in the development plan that she would not enter into an intimate relationship for at least the next two years. That covered St. Lucia and more.

When they finally got to the vehicle, it was a beat-up two door red Toyota pickup truck with a steel frame ladder, a hammer, a cheap looking manual saw and some other unfamiliar looking tools in the back.

What the hell! These people must be crazy! I know this is the developing world but they surely could do better!

I was at work, he explained, looking embarrassed.

She didn’t reply.

The drive home will be a good hour, said the Frenchman whose name she still had not found out. In fact it was when she was making her way to the passenger door on the left side of the old vehicle that she stopped in her tracks realizing that she was about to leave the airport in a new country with a total stranger and absolutely no one to bear witness to this fact.

She turned to the back of the vehicle where he stood adjusting an old canvas sack that looked like it used to be white. He placed her green suitcase on top of it.

I’m sorry you haven’t told me your name.

Sorry. Pardon Mademoiselle! My name is Damian Brandon Jolicoeur.

Where are my manners? he continued, but he was talking to himself because in a flash Candice was gone.

She made her way back to the arrivals terminal and looked for the information desk where she found a young lady talking to a man wearing a British Airways uniform. They were smiling, but when she arrived near the counter he stepped aside casually to make way for her.

Hi! How may I help you? The young lady asked, her expression of bemusement transferred smoothly from one foreigner to the next.

Hi. My name is Candice St. John. Please write that down. She waited as the attendant scribbled on paper. I’m here as a guest of the government of St. Lucia through the Ministry of Health. I am being picked up by a French guy who says his name is Damian Brandon Jolicoeur. We’re leaving in a red Toyota pickup truck.

Okaaaay, the attendant responded, dragging the letters while she tried to figure out what was really going on. She looked genuinely clueless.

Ah. Candice was sure she was doing the right thing but somehow the young lady’s reaction made her feel uncomfortable and slightly guilty. By way of explanation, Well I need you to know his name just in case I disappear. I….

But before she could continue, both the young lady and the British Airways guy broke out into a soft and controlled giggle. Then they looked up at each other, and again at Candice, and had a second slightly longer and slightly louder laugh.

Miss, she said more seriously, looking at Candice as she raised her right hand onto the desk. You are fine. There are cameras all over this place. We can see who everybody leaves with. Besides, we know this gentleman. Everyone knows him. You’re fine.

Slightly embarrassed, she looked towards the closest wall and no doubt there was a camera above them. Then she turned and walked away. Her sense of comfort had been restored by the assurance that the cameras had picked them up. She was willing to concede that he would not kill her, but now her curiosity had peaked. Who was this man, and what made him so important that even the lady at the information desk at the airport knew who he was?

As her mind drifted at galloping pace, she stepped out onto the parking lot, and almost into the red pickup truck. Damian had seen her leave the building and hurried around to the spot. He stretched across and opened the front door on the passenger’s side. She hopped into the rough and tumble vehicle even without thinking, because there was really no other option.

You should get something to eat for the long drive. I know you’ve been on a five hour flight. You must be hungry and tired.

I’m fine, and with that lie she banged the door shut but it wouldn’t hold. She tried again but the door ricocheted off the body of the vehicle and swung almost one hundred and eighty degrees in the other direction.

The ‘doctor’s welcome’ she’d expected to receive in St. Lucia was obviously not to be. Now Candice began to wonder how many more surprises were in store, and whether later that day, she would be able to somehow bathe in the Caribbean Sea. If she could, she would let the memories of the afternoon drift into the horizon.

Pardon Mademoiselle, Pardon.

‘He seems to have more manners than the people who’d sent him to pick me up,’ was the only thing Candice was willing to say in his favour, and even that was something she’d acknowledge only to herself.

She could also have admitted that as he leaned over her to get to the door a sweet half burnt smell of the rustic, whiffed lightly across her face and landed squarely on her bosom. It was pleasant and unusual. It reminded her of trees and the sea and a little of someone who had only half a day’s sweat from doing only half a day’s work, which in Damian’s case may have been the truth.

She didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that Damian was employed in a technical field but she did need the patience of a prophet to help her hold her tongue all the way to Castries.

The door finally closed with a simple lifting and pulling procedure, not very different from much of the repair work she’d done on more patients than she could count in her two years as a specialist. But to her credit, she would usually also sew a stitch or two to keep the wound together. He seemed to have mastered the art of closing the door in its present broken down condition, and she suspected that he had no plan to get it fixed.

He was handsome, French and well mannered, but he was not her type. In fact, Damian was probably a dysfunctional tradesman with two women, five children and a lonely cat.

She hoped.

It would keep her life simple.

They drove at somewhere near the forty mile per hour mark towards the north of the island. The roads were winding, the van seemed to need shock rubbers and perhaps a pair or even two pairs of brand new shocks. The ride was rough. But on the brighter side, the afternoon sun brought forth the reality of a fine tropical day.

St. Lucia was as beautiful as it appeared in television advertisements although no advertising could capture the quaint nature of the authentic as the real experience. On this, Candice’s first trip out of the United States, she was quickly coming to realize that there was more to see and experience than the new island home she was eager to enter for that much deserved rest. She liked it.

As they maneuvered through the hills and valleys, Damian made every effort to point out land marks to her. He introduced her to the Atlantic coast by making an actual detour that brought them to the ocean’s shore. The perfect combination of competing waves pushing towards the tiny island shoreline, and the sound of the water breaking on the sand bed as the sea rolled them back into itself in a timeless rotational cycle, was nothing short of breath taking.

When they got to the fishing village of Dennery, they stopped at the visitor’s viewing point where Damian bought two golden apple juices from a pink and blue wooden booth on the road side. He gulped his down in two sips as if it was just what the doctor had ordered. But in fact, the doctor had ordered nothing. Damian had, on his own, decided that this was what she was going to drink.

Candice could not figure out whether he was being rude, controlling or hospitable, but she was soon too distracted by her surroundings to care. In any case, the juice was cold, sweet and dry like the perfect white wine.

Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat Mademoiselle? Damian asked with a look of concern. They were seated on a wooden bench near the booth, facing the sea which glimmered hundreds of yards below, and stretched out for at least half a mile in the distance.

I told you to call me Candice.

Pardon. He smiled. Would you like to have something to eat Candeece?

She laughed. It was the first time she’d heard her name pronounced with a double vowel and the wrong letter as well. It was wrong but from his mouth it somehow sounded right.

What? Did I say it wrong? He asked with a look of innocence.

She stood up and walked to the bin, throwing her empty plastic cup into it. Shall we leave now! It was more of an instruction than a question. On Candice’s first day on the island, she was not about to allow herself to get distracted by what appeared to be a rolling stone from France. As she thought about it, she decided that he probably owned that beat-up old truck because he was not prepared to invest in an expensive vehicle on an island which he was just passing through.

As they continued their north bound journey, she decided to be direct with her questioning. What is the point of the guess-work anyway, she thought. I have a right to know who this man is beyond his name, and why he is the one who’s picking me up.

What do you do anyway?

I work with the Government of France. Damian was reading her thoughts. He figured out that Candice would not be satisfied with that answer but his intuition told him that if he let her dominate him intellectually, he would dig himself into a hole he might never be able to dig himself out of. She would have to work for the answer she wanted and the explanation she probably deserved.

The Government of France? She asked surprised.

Yes. On the left here, is the rain forest. You should walk through it while you’re on the island….beautiful, he said slowing down.

It was lush and green but Candice was focused.

In St. Lucia?

Yes, he replied evasively.

May I ask why you are the one picking me up? She finally realized what he was trying to do. She could be direct if he could play games because she had no reason to be intimidated by him.

Oh, you were supposed to have been picked up by the Hospital Director and his driver, but unfortunately both of them called in sick today with Chikungunya. It’s a mosquito borne illness.

I know what it is. She declared.

Well, I don’t know. I think it’s a tropical illness because the mosquitoes are in this climate; he said, apparently looking around him for mosquitoes as he drove. There were none. Anyway, I was on assignment at the hospital in the south, and I was asked whether I could pick you up. I said yes. I didn’t expect someone like you. He smiled.

What is that supposed to mean? Was this supposed to be a compliment or an insult?

Many people will be pleased to see you, he said, smiling wider. His teeth were almost too white. She wondered whether they were caps.

What do you do?

I’m an engineer, I fix the machines, he paused briefly, and then continued, "the ones