Island Hopping: Trinidad & Tobago: Island Hopping

Dedication

To Big H—Him & Little ‘h"—him, with love.

The Island Hopping Series

Series Order...

When the pursuit of love trumps obligations...

Jumping Ship (The Introductory Novella)

Island Hopping Book 2: Trinidad & Tobago

*Coming Soon...*

Island Hopping Book 3: Grenada

Island Hopping Book 4: Barbados

Island Hopping Book 5: Saint Lucia

Island Hopping Book 6: Martinique

Island Hopping Book 7: Antigua

Island Hopping Book 8: Guyana

Book Description

Abandoned as a newborn and now a determined twenty-three year old with her mind set on uncovering her true heritage, Sakkara Riley lands in Trinidad. She's met by Natalia Day, a local historian with a wealth of knowledge and Anthony, the elderly woman's grandson.

Ms. Natalia introduces Sakkara to the memory of a high-spirited Frenchwoman with a connection to the young girl and a past so strong that the story is capable of capturing readers by the heart.

Continue this colorful quest of the Caribbean's long, lost child as past and present collide in this epic series known as Island Hopping.

Contents

Calypso

1999

Welcome to Trinidad & Tobago

Yvonne Marseille

Change of Plans

Anthony & Sakkara

1930s-1940s

Lover’s Stroll

Dwelling in Love

Adieu, Chérie France

Trouble

This Foreign Land

Settling in

Retrouvailles

Living in Trinidad

Trouble

Farewell to Peace

Going Mental

Lee

Mikey

You’re Mine

1975

Cecil & Alyson

Off to Tobago

On the Run Again

1999

Exploration

Truth

Tobago

Calypso

Ti ti ti . . . Tica tan, tica tan,

Feel the teeny, tiny boom of the shiny pan.

Chada cha . . . Cha, cha, cha

Bi dim pam pam, Bi dim pam,

Bruk out, bust way to this Caribbean jam.

Chuca chuca . . . choo choo choo

Swing ya waist and mek it roll,

Let it seep in, free up, dance with your soul.

Truga, Truga . . . tro tro tro

Stick on drumpan unite,

Climb the rhythm, jump up to the next height.

Pica, pica . . . pi pin pi

Tek in the tempo, leggo the hollow,

More you release, the slackness will follow.

Ra dum ba . . . dum ba, dum ba

Grab on pun it, straddle the horse,

Fling back and give way, let it take its course.

Traduba, Traduba, Traduba

What has been in the past can never be undone.

What is happening now plays out as we see fit.

What will occur in the future is completely up to you.

At any given time, each timeline can exist.

1999

Welcome to Trinidad & Tobago

<><><><><>

Sakkara Riley’s tears dried up the minute American Airlines Flight 147 touched down onto the tarmac. Her spirit exploded and sparks rode the delicate layer of creamy, already tanned skin. Turning to gaze through the window and take in the rays bathing Port of Spain, she couldn’t help but consider that her parents might have lived or walked this land.

The view was intriguing, as multicolored rooftops, mountain regions and the ocean’s view danced at every angle from the moment they'd began the descent to the southern Caribbean island. Her insides fluttered with each dip. She wanted to hold her breath but was afraid of missing every second of the experience. Life was aligning just for her. Fear rested at the crossroads of then and now.

She refused to dwell on an ounce of negativity, including the fact that she had been abandoned as a newborn and raised by adoptive parents. Sakkara was thankful for the love that was bestowed by Edward and Pearl Riley; however, she still had a burning desire to discover her heritage.

After quickly stretching for and grasping her valuables, Sakkara waited her turn to exit the plane. Her brown leather satchel held everything she needed to survive, or so she thought. Her deepest desires encouraged the idea that the items contained within represented her lifeline to the past. And though this exploration of sorts was truly bittersweet, it was fulfilling to know that hope lay ahead.

The Rileys hadn’t just found a precious little baby tucked in a gloomy alleyway, they had discovered a sack of treasures. And finally, after years of planning, the soon to be twenty-four-year-old woman was embarking on a journey to connect with her true past. Over the next several weeks, or even months, the Caribbean would be hers to explore. Her first stop, the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago, was to be followed by Grenada, Barbados, Saint Lucia, Martinique, Antigua and Guyana. Sakkara’s discovery parcel included artifacts that set the path for what she needed to accomplish.

Every other traveler, every airport worker, and every other guest made her wonder whether or not they were somehow linked to the Trinidadian articles. Beaded purses—skillfully designed by a mysterious French woman by the name of Yvonne Marseille, mistress to Jerome Legrand—and a not so impressive, worn out bracelet of local coins were being reunited with the land. Though this stop was only the beginning, Sakkara considered the range of possibilities and tales that would feed her hunger for ancestral knowledge. She believed that even if her family was not found immediately, a significant amount of knowledge would be unveiled.

At each footing, Sakkara spun from left to right. Her steps were gracefully taken; she rocked on the balls of pale yellow sandals, nerves causing her toes to tense up. She stood out as a newcomer, in matching shorts and tank, her ponytail swinging to and fro, gently tapping the middle region of her back. Her colorfully framed pupils appeared twice as wide; she was fit and eager to learn the secrets of this earth and its inhabitants. Her mind even toyed with her from time to time, marking some form or another of similarities amongst any- and everyone. She looked on in hope. Trinidad played before her like a projector's unraveling except, this was her tale, exclusively. There was something in the way that real life seemed larger than life.

In the Indian couple to her right, the woman of equal height to Sakkara, she tuned into the slender curves. Even the manner in which she floated through the terminal resonated. Then, on second thought, Sakkara decided that it might be best to look away once her lips inadvertently curved. She did so, only to see another mirrored image. Her heart raced, while drops of sweat loomed at her forehead. After a few rushed steps, she nearly crashed into an elderly woman with a cane. The stranger smiled, looking into Sakkara’s eyes and nodding her head. Concern and interest sparked from blue irises as the woman uttered incoherent words.

Excuse me, ma’am? Sakkara paused to lean in.

Fuss time heah? the woman enunciated with tight lips.

Yes, my first visit. She nodded with the reply, suddenly feeling comfortable once again.

Welcome to my country. The greeting meant something to this newest visitor. It was an open door into more than just the country. She saw this as an offering of all that was needed for a child who was scared for what lie ahead, no matter how much she longed to move forward.

Sakkara thanked her, smiling from the brief encounter as she maneuvered through the lengthy immigration lines.

*****

Sakkara Riley, this is my grandson Anthony Lam. Natalia Day's face had the most perfect, beautifully aged skin, which consisted of wrinkles at just the right places.

Nice to meet you, Anthony, Sakkara extended her hand with an opened palm. She was forced to tilt her head back, actually not even tilt—Sakkara’s neck strained. And though the sun was fiercely cutting into her sight, Anthony brandished a powerful glare of his own. She couldn't help the rush of interest, as their eyes made four. He had strong features, with remarkable cheekbones set against a butterscotch complexion. Anthony was gorgeous and caught her off guard for just that instant. She thought about how smooth the pad of her fingers would feel against his soft lips, or the palm of her hands racing down the sides of his face. Now was not the time, this was not the place and he could not be the one. After all, she was here to look about family matters. So, shaking unscheduled thoughts from her mind, she refocused back on her guide.

Mrs. Day—

No dear. I’m not Mrs. anymore. My Eugene pass on a long, long time ago. The elderly woman chuckled heartily. You can call me Ms. Natalia.

Sakkara’s jaws stretched wide. She appreciated the kindness being dished out.

Ms. Natalia had been fixated from the moment she'd first set sight on Sakkara; even as they pulled away from Port of Spain’s Piarco International Airport. As wet breezes danced amongst them, Ms. Natalia refused to wind up her window and Sakkara sat in the back of the sports utility vehicle in silence. The vehicle was silent, with the exception of the bottled up words everyone must've known Sakkara couldn't wait to unleash.

You look too nervous, girl. Ms. Natalia spun her head around to glance at her visitor. Sakkara’s nostrils flexed, while her lips formed a paper-thin smirk.

It’s not really nervousness. This is my first stop. I don’t know what I’m going to find out. I don’t know what to expect. Before the young woman could continue, the elderly woman held up her palms.

Keep calm, Sakkara. I’m the best at what I do. I've been around for a very long time. She openly rummaged through the thoughts in her mind as her right pointer finger waived in the air, then Ms. Natalia smiled and shook her head. I guess they didn’t have no choice but make me a historian.

Sakkara laughed. She was relying on Natalia Day to help her determine what the beaded purses and old Trinidadian coined bracelet had to do with her; or her parents for that matter.

I’m not giving you any information yet—

I’m sorry, ma’am, you have information already? Sakkara perked up.

Wait dear. Keep calm. I know yuz eager, but we need to get some food in you fuss. You young women always trying to watch you figa. I gon’ put some good Trini food in you. I have a pot of curry mango and buss up shut. Have you heard of?

Sakkara opened her mouth to declare that she wasn’t hungry, but Ms. Natalia saw it coming.

I’m telling you that you’re hungry, end of discussion. Furthermore, you don’ refuse my food, especially when I work long and hard to prepare a meal. She then did a dragging clap to solidify her decision. Before she turned around, her eyes squinted as a threat.

Mama, you ah badjohn? You can’t go ‘round the place forcing people to eat your food.

Step out of my business, Anthony. Her rebuke was quick and direct without even looking in his direction. Sakkara? she continued without a pause or trace of humor.

Yes, Ms. Natalia?

Your face, the structure . . . She raised her hand once more, indicating that the discussion had ended for the time being. Sakkara didn’t press the issue; instead, she allowed a slight grin to claim her pouting lips.

They continued on to Ms. Natalia’s modest Newtown home, to the west of Port of Spain. Sakkara couldn’t decipher where one region lent way to another or if it was all a full environment because she simply believed that everything was simply Trinidad, Tobago or Port of Spain. Even as they drove past the largest cricket field in the Caribbean, Queen’s Park Oval, she thought about New York’s sports arenas. There wasn’t a field for that particular sport in New York, not that she was aware of, though she had seen matches at smaller parks from time to time. Many times these were day long events that would carry into the night, with the men starting out in bright white garb and ending up being covered in