Well of Gold

By Tom Richmond

Four University of Florida graduate students agree to spend summer in the darkest most inhospitable jungle on earth. They enter the Darin Gap in Panama in search of gold. They use a map discovered by Terry Marston, a graduate student. The map points the way, along with a letter verifying the existence of a well of gold left hidden by buccaneers in 1702.

These English buccaneers raiding out of Jamaica along with 70 black slaves, and 800 Indians forced Spaniards to surrender the Espiritu Santo gold mines in Cana. There they plundered the Kings stores of bullion awaiting shipment to Spain. Counterattacking the Spaniards captured the pirates and most of their army, but not before they hid the gold in a well.

Terry and his friends endure many hardships hacking their way to the hidden treasure. They encounter bandits, boars, crocs, jaguars, even narcotics traffickers in their quest. Eventually they discover man is their greatest adversary while seeking the gold hidden for more than 300 years.

If they prevail they will possess wealth beyond their wildest imaginings yet they must pit their skills against the chaos of nature and the greed of man. Ultimately, they discover the jungle takes no prisoners. Only one survivor will remember 911. That is Ecclesiastes 9:11.

I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill, but time and chance happeneth to them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465306180

Tom Richmond

Tom Richmond is a retired History instructor, Vietnam Veteran, and pilot. He holds a Master of Arts Degree in History Education from the University of Illinois-Urbana-Champaign. His other publications include Panama, The Favored, Well of Gold, and Hollow Vengeance. He is working on his next historical fiction novel titled Bay Roses, a story of love/revenge set in Southeast Asia, Tampa, Florida, and Panama. Most of his life he has resided in Florida, though he travels frequently throughout the world. He has travelled all fifty states, and he has visited Puerto Rico, Canada, Mexico, and many other countries in the Caribbean basin frequently. His interests include aviation history, music, flying, reading, and of course, writing.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Tom Richmond.

Library of Congress Control Number:          2011962746

ISBN:                      Hardcover                      978-1-4691-3739-1

                                 Softcover                      978-1-4691-3738-4

                                 Ebook                            978-1-4653-0618-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

Contact: Tom Richmond, cell Ph. (321)-394-2173

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Contents

Introduction

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

Introduction

F our University of Florida graduate students agree to spend summer in the darkest most inhospitable jungle on earth. They enter the Darién Gap in Panama in search of gold. They use a map discovered by Terry Marston, a graduate student. The map points the way, along with a letter verifying the existence of a well of gold left hidden by buccaneers in 1702.

These English buccaneers raiding out of Jamaica along with 70 black slaves, and 800 Indians forced Spaniards to surrender the Espiritu Santo gold mines in Cana. There they plundered the King’s stores of bullion awaiting shipment to Spain. Counterattacking the Spaniards captured the pirates and most of their army, but not before they hid the gold in a well.

Terry and his friends endure many hardships hacking their way to the hidden treasure. They encounter bandits, boars, crocs, jaguars, even narcotics traffickers in their quest. Eventually they discover man is their greatest adversary while seeking the gold hidden for more than 300 years.

If they prevail they will possess wealth beyond their wildest imaginings yet they must pit their skills against the chaos of nature and the greed of man. Ultimately, they discover the jungle takes no prisoners. Only one survivor will remember 911. That is Ecclesiastes 9:11_

I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill, but time and chance happeneth to them all.

1

The Letter From Cana

T HOUGH HE DID NOT WORK THERE, it was nothing for Terry Marsten to close down the library. As a graduate student long after slackers retired their newspapers with wooden sticks attached, he remained, pouring over maps detailing explorations of conquistadors in Central America.

Panama, in particular, was an obsession with him. He seemed possessed, fascinated, at times even enraptured, by the study of its indigenous cultures, conquistadors, and exploitations of the Sixteenth Century. In fact, he became campus authority on the subject. Steeped in a time of merciless upheaval, he understood the plight of the natives like no other. Students often consulted him, instead of professors, when seeking expertise on this isthmian part of the world. After all, he was nearly a professor himself.

Terry in his final year at the University of Florida was completing his dissertation on Meso-American Archeology. Preparing his last trip to The Institute of Jamaica’s National Library there he would finalize his decision on a subject for dissertation. With an intriguing idea he now hoped his last trip would culminate in something original. He dreamt of making a worthy contribution to a field steadily shrinking from original theory.

Slowly, Terry rose from the table, taking one last look at a map of the Darién Province in Panama as he stretched his cramped limbs. He was tired and it showed. On queue, his fiancé entered sneaking from behind, playfully placing her hands over his eyes, she spoke with a Russian accent, Guess whose taking you to dinner?

It was Carolyn Stolz, an attractive, 5’8, blonde-haired, blue-eyed co-ed with an athletic body. Although many would agree, her best asset was academic prowess, she was also a looker. She was a natural for Zoology, quick on the uptake and enthusiastically eager to learn. In the words of her professor and mentor, Professor Lutgens, she was, unsettlingly eager."

Terry often said, If Carolyn can’t classify it, it doesn’t deserve to live.

Carolyn also participated in Equestrian events, fitness training, Tae Kwon Do and just plain mountain climbing. The latter suffered a hiatus once she accepted a full scholarship to the University of Florida. Nevertheless, there were walls in the gym she could scale everyday, they would have to do until her visit to Jamaica with Terry. She was looking forward to snorkeling island waters and hiking the Blue Mountains.

Releasing her hands from Terry’s eyes, she gazed into his own blue gems. He smiled through long brown hair over one eye telling her, I swear you look prettier every time I see you.

You’re just saying that cause you want to choose where we eat tonight.

Teasingly she pushed his hair away, he grinned sheepishly through his reddish beard. As he stood up to his six feet in height under harsh library lights, he remained handsome. Even though other women never failed to notice, she felt secure in his love for her. They had been together since community college.

Terry said, It’ll be our last night in country for two weeks, you know.

Yes, I know. So you want to go to that little authentic Mexican restaurant with the cute senorita servers right?

His eyes settled on hers as he spoke fluent Spanish: Once again you read my mind. You are truly a wondrous lady, my love.

You needn’t try wooing me in Spanish. I’m learning faster than you think. Come along, my great explorer, you shall have your wish. We’re going to Taquitos Jalisco’s, I’m driving. I know how fond you are of their margaritas.

Terry folded his map before the librarian could scold him for outstaying his welcome.

As they left, the librarian turned to her assistant:

I swear, someday that man’s eyes are going to fall right out of his head and roll across the table to the floor. I’m surprised he has time for women in his life.

Her assistant only sighed, eyeing Terry’s butt as the couple pushed through the turnstile.

Once outside, Terry took in the real world, under a starry sky in Gainesville. It was springtime in the land of Easter flowers. La Florida, as the Spanish explorers christened it after they first arrived.

The young lovers strolled arm-in-arm across the quadrangle to the parking lot, locating Carolyn’s Nissan. Not a sports car by any means, but she owned it free and clear and it did not frequent the pumps for which she was thankful. Hitting the button on her key chain, the lights winked as if to say, Hello. Patiently, she waited as Terry tossed his burdensome book bag in the back.

When they arrived the restaurant it was crowded, as usual. After all, it was Friday night and a live Mariachi band was playing. Terry always enjoyed their upbeat music. His taste was eclectic, provided he did not encounter too much rap. To their fellow students he and Carolyn must have seemed sociological throwbacks. They often enjoyed kicking back to the Beatles. Heaven forefend should anyone learn they occasionally listened to Glenn Miller.

When they approached the entrance, they could see the patio was filling up with customers. For Terry it was worth the wait because the fare was authentic southern Mexican, with cuisine to match. Unlike the majority of other Mexican restaurants, Taquitos Jaliscos offered a style of cooking actually found in southern Mexico. There the dishes were traditionally milder with a wide variety of selection. Most other so-called Mexican restaurants, bastardized by Tex-Mex influence from across the border, seemed bent on finding ways to burn the taste buds numb.

Terry was secretly pleased by the wait time, as it gave him ample time to sample an extra margarita while waiting for a table. Carolyn knew he would. At times she knew him better than he knew himself. Once seated at a corner table on the patio, the server arrived quickly for their drink order, yet another reason Terry enjoyed Taquitos.

Soon Terry sat behind an oversized margarita watching the smooth green concoction creating a sweat surrounding a crusty rim of sea salt. Carolyn relished the dusky red of frozen strawberries dampening her daiquiri glass, though it was thoroughly un-Mexican. She was willing to make the exception.

Lifting his glass in toast, Terry said, May we always find what we seek and share in the joy of its discovery.

Carolyn returned his wish with a faintly curious smile. She enjoined, It sounds as if we’re about to embark on a quest of sorts.

Terry sipped his margarita then said, I suppose I was thinking of our trip but my mind is really on the Institute.

Didn’t you say you thought you could nail down something original for your dissertation by this time? Carolyn asked.

Yes, this should finally do it; if I can just find more primary sources. Hey, look there’s Chad over there. Let’s invite him over, okay?

Alright, but promise me you won’t get started about your research. Between the two of you I feel as if I’m on the outside looking in.

Well, you do have your own dissertation to talk about.

Yes, but mine pales to insignificance when you two start railing about discoveries in the jungle with your macho explorer talk.

Terry displayed a look of bemused tolerance, without replying he chose to hail Chad Brown, his best friend. They were best friends even before Terry learned of Chad’s background.

Chad was a so-called fortunate son, as it were. He was an only son of the owner of the Skully Foundation and its subsequent fortune. His father operated an investment firm grounded in the family’s ownership of ten thousand acres in Skully Valley, central Illinois. One of the most fertile valleys in the world, it was originally settled by his family in the late 1700s. Since then the family operation only expanded, diversifying into fertilizers, chemicals, and a long list of other agricultural products.

Bluntly speaking, Chad was sole heir to the Skully fortune even though his father had nearly disowned him after learning Chad planned to attend the University of South Florida to study Botany. His father’s dreams of seeing his son graduate from Harvard, Yale, or at least the University of Illinois were decimated. However, as years passed, his father softened, accepting his work and supporting him in every way for who he was.

At first, Chad’s father’s assistance nearly led to disaster. When so-called friends in college got wind of his wealth, there was no end to it. There were parties, boat trips, sky diving etc… In other words, Chad became the proverbial party-boy with an entourage of takers always at his elbow. Soon thereafter his academic career wound up in the toilet.

Then Chad made a wise decision. He changed schools keeping his family background a secret. At the University of Florida, he met Terry and they got along famously. Soon they found a common interest—Central America.

Just then Chad spotted Terry waving and headed for their table. How goes it with you two? he asked with a big smile.

Terry replied, Great. We’re just waiting to catch our flight to Jamaica tomorrow. Have a seat.

Pulling up a chair next to Carolyn, Chad said, If you don’t mind, I’ll sit next to your fiancé then everyone will think I showed up with a beautiful woman.

Used to Chad’s flowery comments, Carolyn did not blush. Although, that did not mean she minded hearing them. She sometimes thought: If it were not for Terry, Chad would make a fine catch. He was athletic with a thin frame, 5’10" in height and a body that belied its true strength. She had seen him work out at the dojo where she attended Tae Kwan Do lessons. He preferred another style of martial arts known as Oki Ryu, an Okinawan form of Karate. An accomplished black belt, he often worked out there. His body was hard and ripped, yet he possessed that boyish look underneath his long curly blonde hair.

Are you here for the scenery Terry? Chad teased.

Now don’t start trouble, Chad. I can do that all on my own.

They both laughed heartily. They were as close as any two brothers could be.

Chad asked, When will you be leaving?

Our flight departs from Orlando at 11:00 a.m.

Instead of leaving your car at the airport, why don’t I drive you down? Chad offered.

That’s great, but what will we drive when we come back, genius? Terry teased.

I’ll just drive back and pick you guys up. I don’t mind. You can buy me dinner or something crazy like that okay?

Terry looked at Carolyn for her take on the offer. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. Sounds all right to me, it would sure be more convenient, she said.

All right, then it’s settled. What time do you want me at your place, Terry?

I’d say about seven if that’s good with you.

Chad winced a bit. "That is early isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. I’ll be there."

Well, as long as you’re sure, Chad. You know we have to be there at least an hour before departure, Terry reminded. Chad laughed getting up from the table.

Hey, where are you going, buddy? Terry asked. I thought you were gonna eat with us?

Naw, I’m meeting someone. We’ll probably have a drink and watch the band, then go somewhere else. I gotta make the rounds you know

Just don’t forget your last stop, tomorrow. I’ll see you at seven, Chad.

Right, your place at seven. I’ll be there, don’t worry.

Terry raised his hand, cutting him off as he said, I know, be happy mon.

Carolyn and Terry watched Chad walk away. He wasn’t gone very long before the waiter told them their table was ready.

Terry thought to himself, Why do things always move faster when Chad’s involved?

They were studying menus when Carolyn spied Derek Katin on the other side of the room. Derek was a fellow grad student, majoring in environmental engineering. Years ago, Carolyn had met him in her first zoology class. They stayed in touch when she began dating Terry, and he befriended Terry as well. Often he accompanied them to movies and parties.

She rose up waving her hand to catch his attention. Though he was with his date, Derek excused himself and headed for their table.

As he stood, it was apparent he was the tallest man in the room at 6’3". Though he had played college football his first year, his hopes of a continuing scholarship ended abruptly on the field when a knee injury sidelined him. Thereafter, it was a struggle making ends meet but he was up to the challenge. He had proved his determination taking on menial jobs until he gained a position in lower management with an environmental consulting firm making his way on his wits.

Derek crossed the crowded restaurant toward Terry’s table just as the mariachi band cranked up. It soon became so loud he had to stoop beside their table to hear them speak.

Hey, you guys, I might have known you’d be here. This is Terry’s last stop for Mexican before your flight right?

Terry nodded, lifting his second margarita. Wish me well, my friend. Upon my return, I shall posses the ultimate dissertation topic on Meso-American Archeology.

Clearly the margaritas were affecting his sense of proportion.

Derek said, I do wish you well and I envy you both. I would love to spend time on that crazy island someday.

I’m sure you would love it, Derek. Their environmental issues are as plentiful as their rum, Terry assured him.

Derek gave Terry a toothy grin, slapped him on the shoulder and said, Don’t get too polluted here my friend, you’ve gotta fly tomorrow.

Carolyn practically had to shout to be heard above the sound of the band as she asked, Will you be taking any courses this summer, Derek?

No, I plan to work and save up for my end run at the dissertation next fall. What are you planning?

Oh, about the same, I guess, unless something else comes up. I should be able to finish if my dad’s checks keep coming, Carolyn said with a grin.

I heard that. Well I better get back to my date. Derek straightened up heading back to his date.

Carolyn half shouted, She’s pretty! Don’t I know her from somewhere?

I think so. She was at my bosses Christmas party, he explained.

Oh, yes, now I remember. She’s the one interested in law school.

Right, that’s the one, I’ll see you two later, Bon Voyage!

He turned, threading his fullback frame through the crowded floor to his table. His date had reddish blonde hair close to the color of his own. They both had that Scandinavian look about them as if their ancestors had gotten off the same boat. They each had fair hair and blue eyes. Seeing them together, one might think they were part of a Viking crew planning to pillage the place.

Terry remarked, "They seem to be hitting it off rather well. Let’s see, he’s been dating her since before December right? That must be some kind of a record for him."

Carolyn grinned, Oh, stop it! You sound like some old man. Just because we only see each other doesn’t mean others can’t play the field.

I know. It’s just that he never seems to want to settle down.

Maybe he just needs the right circumstances, Carolyn said.;

Oh, and what would that be—a shove from behind by a certain matchmaker? Terry joked as he sloshed his oversized glass in her direction.

She countered with a loaded salsa chip to the mouth saying, Here, try one of these, honey.

Terry mumbled, Okay, I get the point.

She taunted him with the triangular chip in hand. "What do you mean, this point? Do you mean this point?" she laughed continuing to poke his lips with the chip.

Finally, the server arrived, putting an end to her teasing. Terry had just raised the menu in defense as she arrived.

Ah, I’ll have the ah… excuse me, would you like to order first, Carolyn?

She rolled her eyes and began, Yes, I’ll have the chicken fajitas with beans and rice.

Next, the cute Mexican server moved to Terry’s side. He smiled saying, I’ll have the bistek gratinado con arroz y frijoles negras.

Wow, Terry, do you think you can hold all that? Carolyn asked in amazement.

He looked at her sideways as if he were sizing her up for possible subterfuge answering quite slowly, Yes, is there a problem with that?

She countered wistfully, Oh, no, no problema. So tell me, how far along are you on your topic.

Terry’s eyes gleamed. He loved talking about his work. Sometimes it literally seemed to absorb him. At times, he actually believed others were equally enthralled. At those times Carolyn placated him.

It’s funny you should ask, Caroly, a nick name Terry gave her several years before.

Most of the time she accepted it. He was nearly finished with his second jumbo margarita and it was becoming obvious. His face took on a look of total immersion as he began speaking about the second love of his life. Carolyn was familiar with his method of introduction. Usually, he began by posing a question. Sure enough, he did not disappoint—

Do you remember when I spoke of the most important goal of an archeologist?

She decided to humor him begging a reminder. Immediately he launched into a discussion about the origins of civilization. Inevitably, this led to a recent pontification about the world according to Terry. To Carolyn it was just intellectual pump priming. She did not mind it when time permitted, knowing how much he enjoyed speaking about his passion. Besides, at least she learned something new most of the time.

Terry leaned forward assuming a serious expression. The true marks of civilization are writing, calendars, pottery, structures, and most of all, monuments. They all lead us to know how, why and when civilizations developed. Do you know I disagree with proponents who support the theory of warfare as the driving force behind civilization?

Yes, I do Terry, she said patiently.

Well taking that forward, I believe civilization can only flourish where there is no threat of war. That is why my theory will state the earliest civilizations in the western hemisphere came about through peaceful co-existence and trade. You see, Caroly, I believe the discovery of pyramids in Eastern Peru have a lot to do with my theory. They were civilizations thriving on peaceful trade with far away peoples even before the age of pottery. That would be over 4,600 years ago. Think of it; if a system of trade existed then in the Supe Valley in eastern Peru, that means somewhere there must be remnants of the civilizations with whom they traded…

Just then their food arrived, Terry leaned back, accepting his order. The platters were large and hot, covered with a sumptuous steamy combination of rice, meat and savory sauce. It all smelled delicious; almost enough to take his mind off topic, yet he quickly regained focus.

Between bites, Terry described his dream of finding at least some link between the Meso-American tribes in Panama and the pyramids excavated in Peru.

You know, Caroly, they found sea shells indigenous to the Caribbean in Peru. That means the shells made their way through the rainforests of Panama to reach Peru. What I want to know is: Which way did the trade cycle develop? For instance, the Darién has all the pre-requisites for being the birthplace of a civilization.

Terry raised his hand ordering another drink. Caroly settled in for the lecture. Terry waxed on about the possibilities of prior civilizations pre-dating the one found in Carnal, in the Supe Valley. Then he noted the existence of rivers flowing in either direction to the Caribbean and Pacific. He pointed out these could have provided transportation in either direction on the isthmus. Continuing, he further speculated that people in the Darién most likely provided a medium of exchange for trade. There was gold in placer mines that did not require technology to obtain.

That is why the Spaniards first went there. The Indians told them about gold in the Cana Valley. If I can link the Embera or Wounaan Indians living in the Darién with their ancestor’s trade in Peru, I’ll have my proof. That is, at least enough on which to base my thesis, anyway.

Is that why we’re headed for Jamaica again? Carolyn asked.

Terry lifted a scoop of rice and beans making it disappear before mumbling, Yes, of course that’s it. The National Library has one of the best collections of documents on indigenous Caribbean tribes in the world.

Do you think you’ll have time for me while we’re there?, she asked.

Terry lifted his margarita glass, downing it all at once. He cast her that certain look of sincerity she was seeking.

Yes, Caroly, there will always be time for you in my life, he assured.

Well, I’m glad you put it that way. I don’t want to end up alone by the pool. I could just as well do that here.

The evening progressed, and it seemed as if the band got louder and louder. Carolyn suggested they head for her place before going to bed. Terry felt agreeable after his third huge margarita and called for their server. After paying the bill, he followed Carolyn to her car. Though he was feeling fine, he could have sworn he heard his stomach slosh as he sat in the car. He knew he would have no trouble sleeping that night—usually he never did anyway.

Carolyn drove to her apartment on the outskirts of town where she preferred to live as she found it much cleaner and quieter living away from the collegiate crush, as she called it. Fortunately, her father could afford to keep her in comfortable surroundings as well as graduate school. She was fortunate in that she was the only daughter of an upper middle class family in Denver. Her father worked for a computer firm that had gotten in on the ground floor of multi-server intra-computer communications.

Unlocking the door of her smart, two-floor townhouse apartment, Carolyn allowed Terry to find his way to the restroom. When he returned he found Carolyn sitting on the couch with a bottle of water in hand. Terry read the signal correctly: The bar is closed. He joined her with a swooping gesture, putting his hand behind her neck drawing her close to him. Carolyn played along for a while as they kissed. Then she abruptly straightened addressing him head on: Terry, we have a plane to catch. You know we must be ready for Chad at seven sharp. So, no more of this; we need to get to bed.

My sentiments exactly, Caroly, lets do.

She pulled back, grabbing a pillow from behind her head and brought it down with some force on his head saying, I do mean bed/sleep, Terry. There will be plenty of time for exercise in Jamaica.

Reluctantly he agreed, dutifully marching to the bedroom. She entered behind just in time to see him slipping off his jeans. Terry rarely wore underwear and tonight was no exception. Hesitating, she stood by the light switch as she watched him crawl into bed. The last thing she did was undress. Before getting into bed beside him, she reached out lightly touching the two Air Jamaica tickets on her night table.

I’ll see you in the morning, she whispered. When she turned to Terry, he was already making sleeping noises.

*     *     *

A typical spring day sent shafts of morning light sifting through the blinds on the upstairs sliding glass doors. Carolyn rose first. She prompted Terry with words of encouragement from the bathroom as she readied herself.

Terry was slow to rise but managed to find his jeans. When he heard Chad’s car arrive, he opened the sliding glass door and called down, We’ll be right there. Just give us two minutes.

Chad knowingly thought to himself, It will be more like ten.

He sat back in his Mitsubishi Gallant to read the morning paper. He was well aware he did not have the finest car on campus, but it helped him blend as an average dude. Another thing he knew was that Terry liked to sleep in, that was why he had come early.

Exactly ten minutes later Terry appeared, lugging a gigantic suitcase. Chad watched him struggle towards his car. That’s one helluva suitcase there, buddy. I guess it’s better to put everything in one though. That way you only have one bag to check.

Looking up, Chad saw Carolyn appear at the door with an overnight bag and suitcase. She made it to the edge of the trunk where Terry was still catching his breath. Okay, honey, she said, I’ll just put you’re stuff in here and we’re ready to go.

Chad had to laugh but Terry wasn’t amused. He said, You know the airlines do have weight limitations on luggage, Caroly.

It’s okay, I weighed it on the bathroom scale. It’s only seventy-eight pounds.

Caroly, the limit is seventy pounds. If you don’t take something out we’ll be fined.

Chad offered, Never mind, Terry, I’ll take care of it. It will be worth it just to see you two leaving on time.

With that they got underway only a few minutes past seven. Soon Chad was ramping onto the Florida Turnpike, then over to the Beeline expressway where he delivered them to the Orlando International Airport in good time. Chad drove them directly to the departure level where he then helped with the bags as he wished them a successful trip.

As he hugged Carolyn he whispered in her ear, Don’t let this geek keep you waiting too long. I know how he gets in the library.

I’ll keep my eye on him, Chad. If I feel the need for excitement, I may just start without him.

Chad laughed, displaying his winning smile. Turning toward Terry, he shook his hand hard as he said, I’ll be here to pick you up next Sunday, Dr. Marsten.

Terry just shook his finger at him as he replied; Not yet, my friend, but I’m fast becoming what I soon shall be. Adios y vaya con Dios.

They headed through the electric doors, disappearing in the crowded concourse. Carolyn waved at Chad as he pulled away.

Once on the plane, Terry and Carolyn began to truly feel the excitement building. They were off for another week in Jamaica. Carolyn enjoyed her window seat, trying to see as much as she could while Terry was content to snooze after the first half hour in flight.

Norman Manley International Airport in Kingston appeared outside Caroly’s window in two and half hours. Terry felt the gear coming down with a lock and thump. He awoke, rubbing his eyes and peered out the window over Carolyn’s head. Watching the ground coming up, he smiled at her innocent face—she was sleeping peacefully.

He mused to himself; I guess she got tired of looking at all that water.

She awoke quickly when he gently shook her shoulder, preparing her for the landing.

*     *     *

Their taxi took them to the Sandals Royal Caribbean Resort on Kingston Harbor. Carolyn was impressed at Terry’s choice of honeymoon-style lodging. In reality, he had based his decision upon the resort’s proximity to the National Library.

On a late Sunday afternoon there were not many shops open. Consequently, Carolyn elected to spend time by the pool. Terry joined her with his laptop. When she watched him open up his dissertation notes, she elected to take a dip. As she slid into the water, Terry glanced up, allowing himself a look at her firm, athletic thighs slipping into the clear cool water. When she traversed the pool underwater, he was impressed with her swimming as well. Generally, she was good at everything she tried, possessing a natural athletic ability many envied. When she reached the edge of the pool where he was reposing, she shot out of the water and perched on the ledge of the pool.

Come in when you can. It’s very refreshing after that stuffy flight,