Bitter End Yacht Club
Virgin Gorda, BVI
Christmas Break
It took a little over five days from Miami, where Wes had his boat transported, for us to sail to Virgin Gorda. We were beyond excited to be back on land, eating food prepared by chefs and enjoying being pampered Bitter End Yacht Club-style.
“We need to win this,” my competitive daughter said to Wes.
“We need more duct tape and ornament hooks,” he responded as he wrapped garland around the boat’s rail.
“Mom, can you go to the gift shop for us and see if they have any.”
Grabbing my purse, “I’ll be back in a little bit.” As I walked along the dock toward the red-roofed resort, I couldn’t help but smile. Scarlett and Wes were totally caught up in decorating the boat for the Annual Holiday Boat Parade Competition. Scarlett had read about it before the trip and the two of them had been picking up kitschy holiday items ever since.
With so many guests arriving by boat, their gift shop, The Emporium, was more like a small town’s general store, stocked with so much more than sundry items, as many of the mooring clientele had repairs to make to their vessels upon arrival or before departure and enjoyed many meals on their own accommodations.
Immediately finding the duct tape and ornament hooks, I started to browse the store looking for small souvenirs to bring home to Laynie, Jill, Jonathan and Chris. They had the usual assortment of key chains, shot glasses and glass ornaments with shells and sand inside. I loaded several cute ornaments into my basket and moved on. Seeing the shelves lined with packaged cupcakes and donuts as well as single servings of Chef Winston’s famous Key lime pie, spurred a great idea. I would go to the restaurant and see if I could buy a whole pie to take back to the boat for dessert tonight.
Turning toward the checkout counter, I was shocked as I looked into her familiar, smiling face. The painful jolt in my chest made me gasp out loud and drop my basket, causing one of the glass ornaments to shatter. How could it be? Was I just imagining this?
Looking down for a moment to grab the basket at my feet, I realized I was practically hyperventilating. When I straightened up, no one was there. The checkout girl was looking at me, “Don’t worry. I’ll clean that up. Go pick out another one.”
“The woman who was here, where did she go?” I asked, totally bugging out.
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t see her.” The girl shrugged.
“She was standing right there.” I pointed to right in front of the checkout counter.
Shaking her head, the cashier said, “Sorry.”
Going back down the aisle to replace the broken ornament, I stopped for a moment, leaned against a shelving unit and took a deep breath.
It couldn’t have been her. She would probably be dead by now. She was an old woman when I met her. And Dominica must be hundreds of miles from here. It’s in the Windward Islands’ chain and this is the British Virgin Islands. But that smile, that toothless smile. And the way she looked at me. Like she knew me. It was her. It was definitely her.
Realizing that I was shaking, I put my basket down. Maybe I was just dehydrated or something, I wondered, because I would have sworn the old woman who gave me the poppets had just been standing a few feet away from me, smiling her toothless smile. I needed to get out of there. Picking up the basket, I quickly chose another ornament and paid for my purchases.
Greeted by a hostess at the restaurant, I asked if I could possibly purchase a whole Key lime pie. While she left me to go into the kitchen and check, I dug out a water bottle from my purse and took two healthy swigs before putting it back in my bag. When I looked up, coming toward me in his crisp, white chef’s jacket, the pastry chef extraordinaire greeted me with a warm, wide smile.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I’m wonderful. I was hoping to purchase one of your delicious pies so that we could enjoy it on our boat tonight after the Boat Parade,” I explained.
“Absolutely, you can. But there is something else I’d like to show you that you may want even more.” He piqued my curiosity.
“Even more than your famous Key lime pie?” I couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Yes, it is very special and I only make it for Christmas. Follow me.”
Joining him as he walked back to the kitchen, the scent was like following my nose to Heaven. The air was heavy with the aromas of butter, cinnamon and cloves and I thought I might never want to leave. Pastry Chef in the Caribbean might be the perfect career move.
Baking sheets lined with parchment covered the countertops. Rolls, croissants, and pies cooled, while warm fragrant air wafted from the ovens. Winston led me to the far end of the kitchen, where a countertop was lined with round cakes heavily dusted with powdered sugar. Their fragrance was intoxicating. Literally.
“How much rum went into these babies?” I smiled at the Pastry Chef.
“You are in the British Virgin Islands,” he laughed.
“And these are real English Christmas Cakes, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are.”
“You know I can’t leave without one,” I sighed.
“I thought you might feel that way.” He then directed a member of his staff to wrap one up for me.
“What took you so long?” Scarlett asked as I boarded The Do-Over.
“I was getting us a proper dessert for later this evening.”
With high hopes, we turned in our ballots for the boat competition before our dinner at The Grille Restaurant.
“I hope we win something.” Scarlett had put her all into it and she and Wes had created a North Pole wonderland.
“We’ll know in a little bit. They’ll be announcing in about two hours,” Wes explained as we were seated at our table.
“Some people really went all out.” I was amazed at the intricacies of what people did.
“Well, I definitely worked up an appetite decorating ours today. That was a load of work.” Wes looked at the menu.
“No dessert,” I mentioned. “We’re going to have it later, on the boat.”
“Buzzkill.” My daughter looked at me with a smile.
I turned to Wes, shaking my head, “What happened to my sweet kid? I swear I raised her with better manners than this.”
Emerging from the restaurant, sated and relaxed, the temperature had dropped significantly in the past few hours, the night air taking on a seasonal chill under clear, dark skies adding to the ambiance created by the holiday lit boats.
“Wow. That’s invigorating.” I leaned into Wes for warmth.
Scarlett ran ahead to the information board, to see if the results were posted. “We got an honorable mention!” she called out.
“No kidding,” Wes was excited as we read the results. “Pretty darn good for a couple of first-timers, don’t you think, Princess?”
“Really good. There were a lot of boats entered and after first, second and third there were only two honorable mentions and we’re one of them.” She was clearly proud of the award.
“Let’s go take a look at the winning boats and see if we can figure out what all the people voting liked,” Wes suggested.
“Great idea.” Scarlett was all in.
As we went from boat to boat, Wes and Scarlett dissected each one’s decorations.
“Okay, here’s what I’m seeing.” Wes pointed to one of the boats. “All of the winners lit their mast to the top. So, that is a must for next year. And look how good the lighted garland looks wrapped around the rails. So, we’re going to need to pick up some of that. I think by adding those lighted effects, we’ll have our basics.”
“Yeah, I think so, too,” she agreed. “And it really does look better that way.”
“Well a lot of these people have been doing this a long time. So, I think we really kicked butt for a couple of newbies, Princess.”
“Yeah, we were like literally one of the top five.” She smiled up at him.
“I’m so proud of you guys. I think The Do-Over looks beautiful,” I said, as we climbed on board our winter wonderland themed boat. “I’m going to go make some hot tea for all of us. I’m freezing.”
While they stood on deck and talked to passersby about the decorations, I went below, grabbed a sweater and then started to make the tea. Pulling out the plates and utensils, I set the cake in the middle of the table and stood back and smiled. Grabbing some of the ornaments I had purchased earlier, I placed them around the cake plate to give our dessert a festive look.
Had I really seen that old lady smiling at me today? What had she told me so long ago – that I needed to communicate and forgive to lighten my aura? Well, I had certainly done that in my relationship with Wes, so I wondered what colors she saw today. Maybe lighter ones and that’s why she was smiling at me.
“Hey you two, dessert’s ready,” I called up to them.
They were still discussing boat decorations as they came down the companionway.
“That cake looks great,” Wes commented as I handed him a slice.
“It’s Chef Winston’s famous Christmas Cake,” I explained. “I went to get a Key lime pie, but he convinced me that I needed to get this instead.”
“Good choice.” Wes was enjoying it.
“Am I legally allowed to eat this?” Scarlett was smiling and shoveling the cake down fast, before I could reconsider and take it away.
“You can eat rum, just not drink it,” I assured her as she reached for a second slice.
“This stuff is killer. They were definitely not stingy with the rum,” she commented.
“I think the proper way to make this, which is probably what they did, is to actually bake the cake in the fall and then feed it alcohol like every two weeks, kind of like watering a plant.” I had read that in a magazine.
Wes was helping himself to a second slice. “This is amazing, T. Perfect end to a great evening.”
“So, why did some of the boats have Bitter End Yacht Club flags?” Scarlett asked.
“From what I understand, if a family comes back for a second year, they get a flag. So, next year we’ll have a flag,” Wes explained.
“Oh, that’s cool. We need to come up with like literally the most badass theme for next year. And then with the lights, we’ll totally have a winner.”
Sipping my tea, I sat back and listened to the two of them toss around ideas for next year’s competition. The irony didn’t escape me, that if we were sitting here with Frank, my stress level would be catapulting off the charts, already fearing that whatever plans he was making with Scarlett would never come to pass. And that she would once again be heartbroken and made to feel marginalized. But with Wes, I could just enjoy the excitement and energy at the table, because I knew, with my entire being, that one year from now, we’d be sitting right here and the two of them would be bouncing off the cabin walls celebrating their first, second or third place victory. And that throughout the year, he would be surprising her with accessories he found for their project.
There was no doubt in my mind that Wes Bergman would not be disappointing my little girl.
I knocked on the door to Scarlett’s cabin shortly after she went to bed.
“Come in.”
“Shove over.” I got in next to her. “Well, this has been pretty exciting.”
“This trip has been so much fun. I wish we would have won though.”
“Oh baby, we did win.” I rolled onto my back and fluffed the pillow beneath my head. “We’re healthy and happy and on a boat in the Caribbean with one of the greatest guys in the world who cares about the both of us deeply. I think we won big time.”
“You know what? I think you’re right, Mom.” She snuggled closer to me.
I laughed, “Wow, was that your Christmas gift to me? Teenage daughter tells mother she is right.”
We both giggled.
“You guys did a really great job, sweetie. Be proud of it, because I’m really proud of you.”
Wes was up on deck enjoying the night sky when I emerged from Scarlett’s cabin. I took a moment to watch him, enjoying the realization that here we were beneath the Caribbean night sky again, and the man I once thought was the best friend I was meeting for the first time, was, in fact, my best friend, my love and my lover. I let that sink in before grabbing his cable knit sweater and heading up the companionway.
“Hey,” I came up behind him, rubbing his back. “Thought you might need this,” handing him his sweater.
Leaning down to kiss me. “You take such good care of me.”
“I’m glad that you let me.” I smiled.
Stepping behind me with his hands on my shoulders, silently, we watched the night sky.
Tara, take care of my brother. The very last words Stacy spoke to me flashed through my mind just as the sky lit up, as if synchronized with my thoughts.
“Whoa,” Wes grabbed my shoulders tight.
“What was that?” We watched the bright light arc across the sky, leaving a dimly lit trail in its wake, before disappearing into the sea.
“Wow, we have not seen anything like that in the sky before,” Wes finally let up on his grip.
“What do you think it was? A shooting star? Meteor?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything that bright before.” He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head.
Putting my hands over his, I slipped my fingers into his warm palms.
Tara, take care of my brother.
I got this, Stace.
I got this.