Return to Cancún by Lena Malick Page A

He got off the bike
and motioned her over. There was an irrigation hose. He turned it
on and they washed all the mud off each other and cleaned off the
bike. Back on the road, Nik opened it up. Terra could feel the warm
air drying her as they zipped along.
    As they road up the coast,
Terra looked out at the Pacific Ocean. A
source of strength , she thought. The world
seemed cleansed by the rains. Long streaks of sunlight slashed
through the high clouds, lighting the ocean surface in majestic,
shimmering sections. Terra had a feeling, both comforting and
scary, that maybe she belonged here. Maybe…
    She took a deep breath and nested the side of
her face against the back of Nik’s neck, her arms wrapped around
his chest. The wind blew Nik’s hair back. She looked up and could
see the side of his face. As she squeezed her arms tighter, she saw
his cheek stretch up, and knew he was smiling.
    #

    A preview of the third and final part of
the Cancún Series, Cancún Wedding
    The ocean seemed to go on forever. Terra
lifted the window visor and squinted, looking across the vast blue,
trying to find the horizon. They went through a cloud and suddenly
her view was engulfed in white, as if a pillowcase had been pulled
over the plane.
    Vicky settled back into her
seat. “Those bathrooms are made for little people. I swear they
make planes smaller and smaller these days,” she said, buckling
back up. “I had to pass the food cart on the way back up the isle.
There’s no room. I had to practically crawl on some guys lap to let
the cart pass. Not that I’m complaining. And all the stewardesses
are thin as sticks. You notice that? You do not see no fat stewardess these days.
Maybe I should apply for a job, have them turn me down, then sue
their asses.”
    Vicky had lost over twenty pounds in
preparation for Terra’s wedding, and was forever fishing for
acknowledgement. She did look great, trimming down but managing to
keep her curves.
    “Stop it, Vik. You couldn’t sue because
they’d hire you. You’re one of them now, thin as a stick.”
    “Now, I don’t know about that. Lost some of
them extra LBs, but I ain’t no stick,” she said, satisfied. Vicky
had fretted more about the wedding than Terra had, far exceeding
her role of Maid of Honor and becoming downright maternal in her
devotion to every detail. She seemed to know that Terra would miss
her mother now more than ever, and was quietly filling the role
where she could. Terra was more grateful than she could ever
express.
    The stewardess pulled the cart up and leaned
over them. “Chicken piccata or vegetarian lasagna?” she asked with
the kind of plastered on smile that you knew would disappear if you
failed to answer promptly.
    “I’ll brave the chicken,” Vicky said. The
stewardess looked at Terra, her eyebrows lifting higher than seemed
possible. “Nothing for me,” Terra said.
    “She’ll have the lasagna,” Vicky said. “And
two margaritas.” The frozen smile nearly cracked. “Just kidding,
love. But we’ll have a couple of those cute little bottles of
chardonnay.”
    Vicky ate while Terra pushed her food around
and sipped wine. Vicky was going on and on about the details of the
wedding. It had become something of a nervous habit. It was the
same stuff Terra had heard a number of times before, but it was her
job to nod and say “uh huh” in the right places.
    “It will be great having all the men in loose
khaki suits and barefoot. I mean if you’re getting married on the
beach, what’s the point of shoes? Casual but classy,” she said, now
on autopilot.
    “Uh huh.”
    “And I’m just taking your word for it that
this guy Soren is good enough to take pictures. I know you said
he’s an amateur photographer, but I have my doubts. He’s the lady
killer you told me about, right?”
    “Umm.”
    “So he’s got other priorities. Not a good
sign.”
    Terra began to drift off. Everything seemed
to be moving both fast and slow at the same time. She