Red Rain

2

Lea sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hands over the tropical-colored, flowery quilt, letting the warm sea breezes tickle her face. The lace curtains fluttered at the open window of the rooming house. White and yellow daisies floated in a glass bowl of water on the bed table beside her.

The small, second-floor room was bright with afternoon sunlight spreading across the blond-wood floor, and spotlessly crisp and clean with a vague aroma of coconut in the air. Red and blue starfish dotted the wallpapered walls, appropriate since the place was called Starfish House.

The two-story, shingled house with a sloping red-tile roof stood on a low, grassy dune overlooking the Eastern shore beach and a row of white fishing huts along the water.

Is this the calm before the storm? Lea wondered. Or has Hurricane Ernesto changed its course?

She didn’t want to check. She didn’t want to spoil her first day.

She could hear the hushed voices of her hosts drift upstairs from the front desk. An hour before, when the jeep-taxi dropped her off at the front door, they had both come bursting out, clapping their hands and speaking rapidly and excitedly in French, almost dancing around Lea and her two bags.

Maybe they are just warm, excitable people, she thought. But they’re really acting as if I’m their first guest.

Macaw Henders and her husband, Pierre. They owned the six-room inn. She was a big woman, Spanish-looking, with cocoa skin, round, black eyes and straight black bangs across a broad forehead.

She wore an expansive red-and-fuchsia housedress with feathery sleeves and collar and a red bandanna over her hair. Lea had to suppress a laugh since it really did look like bird plumage.

In contrast, Pierre was as thin as a pencil, balding, with brown eyes deep-set in a serious face. One of those people who always looks worried, Lea figured. No way to determine how old he was. He could be thirty or fifty.

A soft knock at the doorway startled Lea from her thoughts. She stood up as Macaw appeared, holding a tray with a white china cup. She handed the cup to Lea. Lea gazed down at a foamy, dark brown drink. She expected the cup to be hot, but it was cold.

Macaw smiled, revealing a gold cap on one front tooth. “Go ahead, Madame Sutter. A welcome drink. Take a small sip to start.” She spoke in a lilting singsong.

Lea took a small sip, then another. Coffee with vodka? No. But definitely potent and sour. She could feel the warmth slide down her throat, into her chest.

“Macaw, what is this drink called?”

The woman hesitated. She ruffled her feathery housedress, much like a preening macaw. “Kill-Devil,” she said finally, lowering her eyes.

Lea laughed and gazed into the cup. “Kill-Devil? Do you know why?”

“Because it’s powerful enough to kill the Devil?”

Lea took another sip. She was starting to like the bitter taste. “This is a lovely room,” she said, gesturing with her free hand. And then blurted out without really thinking about it, “Am I the only one staying here?”

The woman nodded.

“But, why?”

Macaw’s smile faded. She pretended to be interested in something on the tray. “I guess they have their reasons, Madame Sutter.”