"It's him, it has to be."

Roman Kennedy whispered the fateful words to himself as he watched the back of the gray haired man slip away into the crowd. The certainty of his conclusion was striking. For years he had searched for Lyle Kennedy and here, on a small Caribbean island it appeared his quest had unexpectedly ended.

Raising a hand, as though the wave would stop the retreating figure, Roman finally found his voice. "Dad!" he shouted, only to realize that he had lost sight of the stranger amongst the other people that milled about on the street. For stranger he was; Roman at 24 had not seen his parent for more than 12 years.

Finding the energy to move, Roman trotted forward; his tall 6 foot frame following the path he hoped the other man had taken through the bustling marketplace. Blue eyes rapidly scanned the people who were busy bartering for colorful items from the selection of tourist merchandise. As the other man did, Roman blended with the local population, dressed in casual attire and tan. Snippets of Spanish, French and English bounced off his ears as he vainly searched for the one he was desperate to speak to if only for a moment.

So you can explain why you left me...

In a few blocks the marketplace gave way to the harbor. Roman's steps slowed, and the crowd thinned. Tiny sail boats graced the water of the bay. A few motor boats, tied to floating piers, awaited the opportunity to offer service to the fisherman or diver. Shielding his eyes against the 100 degree tropical sun, Roman finally saw the older man again as he untied a motor boat and started the engine.

In profile, Roman recognized the same long, thin nose and lean jaw that stared back at him in the mirror each morning. Although his hair was gray to Roman's brown, it was still thick and wavy. Convinced more than ever, Roman closed the distance at a run just as the speedboat started to pull away from the floating pontoon.

"Dad!" he shouted again. But the sound either didn't carry or was ignored. Roman hated to consider the second possibility, but his heart beat too fast for reflection. Skidding to a stop on the wooden pier he watched helplessly as the small boat sped off into the ocean to destination unknown.

Looking around, Roman grabbed the arm of another man who stood on a pier. Dressed for boating, he assumed the other was a local vendor, perhaps a fisherman. "Please help me - do you know that man who just left?" By way of explanation he pointed in the direction of the rapidly disappearing boat.

A lazy smile returned Roman's breathless greeting, "Sure, that was Terrance Carmichael."

Roman blinked. Carmichael had been his mother's maiden name.

"Where did he go?" Roman asked.

The stranger answered the question, although his smile started to fade, "I don't know - can't read his mind. He comes in about once a month buys supplies and then heads back to his island I suppose." A brief moment of silence followed. Since it looked like a complete answer was required in order to be released, the local added, "Keeps to himself, and pays his bills. I don't meddle in things that aren't my business."

"Sorry," Roman mumbled, removing his grip on the other's arm, and letting his hand fall to his side.

Roman knew he couldn't wait a month to find out if this odd sighting of a man who looked like his missing father was significant. A tourist, he was only on Belize on vacation. In less than a week Roman was expected in New York for a new job at a newspaper. His new boss would not wait for him to pursue the mystery. He had already lost three jobs over the years for random goose chases and he vowed not to lose another.

But this…

Looking around the docks, Roman tried to form some sort of plan. "Excuse me," he added, pursing the friendly man who had offered the best lead in his desperate search in many years. "How can I get to this island you mentioned?"

With a long suffering sigh, the tan merchant replied, "By boat obviously." With a smirk he continued, "But it's not part of the regular ferry service. It's a private island called Coco Cay."

"Can you take me there? I'll pay you."

The other man stopped in his departure preparations and stared at Roman. The desperate look conveyed the youth intended no evil towards the man he sought. Relaxing slightly he offered some advice.

"Sorry," the man explained, "I don't do charters; you might be able to ask Gina." With a jerk of his head he indicated a small shack that stood next to several others and displayed a wooden plaque proclaiming the business within ‘Daylight Discovery’. The structure was painted a festive blue indicating that someone took pride in the humble structure even if it was likely to collapse in the next hurricane.

"Gina?" Roman repeated as he helplessly watched the fountain of information board his boat and throw the tow rope back ashore. Turning back he noticed there was indeed a woman inside the building although he could barely make out her form through the glass. A shiver ran up his spine and Roman wondered why he was reluctant to approach her.

"She doesn't bite." the other man hollered in a parting shot.

Behind Roman the sound of a boat motor slowly faded as his earlier guide went off into the ocean about his business. The absence of the soft purr left the writer feeling strangely alone. The wind picked up slightly and ruffled his wavy dark hair. One lock fell forward into his eyes; he absently pushed it aside.

As fate would have it, the topic of his thoughts chose that moment to emerge from inside the building. The screen door opened, and then flapped shut rattling the signage. This Gina didn't look like a typical sailor, causing Roman’s blue eyes to narrow slightly. Her sandy blonde hair danced and mingled with the sea breeze in a toying manner that probably annoyed given the grim look on her face.

Roman was not to know that moments before Gina had been contemplating the state of her business and distressing over money. She looked fit and tidy, her white shorts and blue blouse color coordinated with the painted structure behind her. Apparently though, she sensed strange eyes upon her and turned, searching for the source by looking over her shoulder. The woman waved, and offered a "Hey-- you looking for something?!"

The choice of words struck a cord with Roman. Truth. His parents had disappeared half a lifetime ago and no explanation seemed good enough. Hillary, his twin sister, gave up the quest for answers, but Roman continued to look. Mentally he rolled his eyes anticipating her reaction to this latest development, but he kept his focus on Gina. She seemed friendly, her smile genuine, but Roman felt strangely self conscious. He hadn’t planned to charter a boat or even to be at the harbor. Looking about, Roman secretly hoped that she posed her question to some other potential patron, but he was alone on the wooden pier and clearly she awaited the response to her casual remark.

Sheepishly he grinned and ran one hand through his hair again in a traditional nervous gesture. Taking a few steps he closed the gap between them. Roman replied, “I guess so. I want to get to Coco Cay.”

For one moment after he spoke, the wind seemed to pick up in speed just a tiny bit, and the smile on the blond’s face faltered as he mentioned where he desired to go. A frown settled on her pretty features as she glanced to the boat slips on the pier. Gina could not be sure, but she could have sworn this client was talking to Jimmy, his speed boat now just a distant speck on the horizon.

Oddly, Jimmy had referred the last client, Pierre, who was also interested in going to Coco Cay. It was absurd for her to think Jimmy plotted with some unknown force to drive her and estranged patrons to the tiny island, only to have them disappear upon her return to pick them up. Silently she chastised herself for assuming a trend. One missing patron and a curious customer did not a conspiracy make.

Golden eyes glanced back at the man before her and a smile once again masked the concern deeply rooted within her mind.

"Coco Cay huh?" she finally said, "I'm afraid I only do that trip twice a week."

Roman couldn't miss the slight change in her demeanor after he mentioned his island destination. Senses already heightened to the unusual events of the day, Roman let a little of her unease settle into his voice as he responded to her question. "Twice a week? But," then he hesitated. Caution was required. True, he didn't want the trail to go cold, but to just hop on a boat and jet to parts unknown was out of character.

Conscious business sense returned to the short blond woman, "I could take you tomorrow, though. And for the best price in all of Belize. How many are boarding?" She was no marketing expert but she did know that the statement was probably more true than simple business bragging.

Roman sighed even as he accepted her introduction. Delay could mean that this Terrance Carmichael, as he called himself, could go off island, or perhaps word would reach him of Roman's interest. Anything could happen during the night. Slowly sanity and acceptance returned. He would need to share this news with his sister Hillary and her boyfriend Miles who were here in San Pedro with him. He had waited 12 years, he could wait another day.

The woman then extended out her hand and said, "I'm Gina Svensson."

"My name is Roman Kennedy," he shared in response to her introduction. Taking her delicate hand in his he offered a brief but firm handshake. "Consider it a contract."

Anticipating success in explaining the situation to his fellow travelers he continued, "There will be three of us, but you'd better define early. I'm not the friendliest person before coffee."

She laughed at his last comment. There was hardly anyone around the island who was not a morning person. Almost every business in town depended on tourists and even if some of them woke up after noon, as business owners early preparation was the best option. Turning, the charter service owner urged him into the shack. Roman preceded her through the door and took a second to look around as she followed behind. The humble wooden structure was clean and orderly like most of the businesses that catered to tourists. She held the door for him, not really being one of those girls who cared much for men being gentlemen and hoped he would not judge too harshly the scarce look of her business. Roman wandered over to one framed water color that hung on the east wall.

"We can fill out the paperwork now and be rid of that step tomorrow," Gina offered.

Positioning herself behind the counter, she pulled out the various forms from underneath and pushed them across the flat surface. "Early means five in the morning so we can get everything on the boat. I usually like to be out of here as the sun is rising. Allows for you to enjoy your destination to the max in daylight before the sun sets."

Roman muttered an absent and questioning "Hum" not quite listening to Gina's clarification as he looked at the painting on the wall. After nearly a minute of admiring the seascape he turned his back on the art and approached Gina who patiently awaited his signature at the counter. Only then did the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Roman swiveled his head back to the canvas; his footsteps halting in their journey forward as he looked again at the painting. Where he got the impression that it was somehow important to glance back at it he couldn't tell, but he followed the impulse for just a moment before he realized that there really was nothing unusual to see.

Mind fought to focus on the words Gina had said, "Uh sure," he mumbled, accepting her reason for doing the paperwork now and the plan for the following morning.

Roman hated the water. His father had been lost in a boating accident and he had yet to go sailing again since the disappearance. Until the moment that Gina had mentioned the imposing darkness Roman had not considered his own fears. "Yes, daylight would be better," he noted factually.

Gina handed him the pen, saying, "I don't particularly like to sail around at night mostly for the comfort of the patrons. The sea is quite imposing when everything looks black. Mingles with the sky and all that."

She sat on her stool and watched Roman. There was a sense of urgency in his eyes when she stated she would only sail the next morning. Almost as urgent as the other fellow. Her face remained calm and friendly, her thoughts never betrayed by her gestures. She proceeded to explain the costs and that payment should be made before leaving the pier. Checks were also not accepted, although he probably could read the sign behind her.

He studied the written contract as she shared the fee schedule. One passenger or three the cost didn't appear to differ. On that Roman was relieved. Hillary should come but she was unpredictable and this way he didn't have to explain that he had charted a boat without her consent. One thing his twin hated was someone making decisions for her.

"Everything looks fine," Roman offered. Having no frame of reference he simply assumed in his trusting manner that price was fair and the condition of cash standard. Taking a pen he signed the two pages she requested, handing the yellow carbon copy across the counter into her waiting hand. "I'll bring the payment in the morning."

Reluctant to leave, Roman lingered for a moment. His eyes strayed once again to the painting; then with a shrug he returned his focus to Gina. "Are you sure I can't convince you to leave now?"

She looked up in time to notice Roman’s preoccupation with her choice in art. Gina wondered why Roman was drawn to the painting on the wall. As far as the auctioneer had been concerned it was worth less than gum. She had tagged the seller as someone who knew absolutely nothing about art-- the painting in surprisingly vivid and detailed water color was breath taking in her eyes. Perhaps the man before her shared the same opinion.

"Really? Now? You wouldn't want to go to Coco Cay at night. The beauty of it is in the sun..." she offered. No larger than three miles wide the tiny island barely hit the map. Although there were others like it an hour or two away by water, it held a history of owners, and a rather checkered past. A dock and a small patch of sun on the sandy beach was "open to the public" but it wasn't listed in the local tourist center.

She studied her patron and kept key facts to herself, instead changing the subject, "You like the painting? Supposedly it's from a local. I fell in love when I saw it and decided to invest in a sail boat similar to it." Her golden eyes reviewed the scene, churning surf and catamaran.

Gina walked over to the painting and folded her tanned arms across her chest, "I always wanted to meet the painter, but I never could track him down," she said softly.

It was true he was interested in the watercolor; even now it drew his eye. Her information about the artist, or lack there of offered no new clues as to what might or might not be a great mystery. The emotional events of the day were beginning to take their toll, and Roman felt suddenly tired. The day was drawing to a close; it was time to share his discovery with his sister.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Roman concluded absently. For a minute he debated about shaking Gina’s hand again in a formal exit, then changed his mind. The absent hand ran through his hair instead as he pushed open the glass door with the other and returned to the boardwalk and the slowly fading sunshine.

He looked out over the blue ocean as he walked away from the harbor and towards the hotel. The man who could be his father did not reappear, the boat long gone towards the horizon. ‘But what would you say?’ he questioned silently as he thought about the evening ahead suddenly glad, he, a lover of words, had twelve hours to plan.