Island Time The Beginning (eBook)

Larry Allan (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
324 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-0321-8 (ISBN)

Infos

JULIE and TOM BANKS travel to the island of Sinagua, where Julie is interviewing for a counseling position at a Caribbean medical school. It soon becomes evident that their expectations of island life are much more colorful than anticipated. Tom's fear of flying is revealed. While touring the culturally diverse island, they are involved in an accident. A truck driver dies. The goat lives. Accused of murder, they are briefly jailed. Knocked unconscious, Tom recovers on the floor of the jail. A video of the accident emerges. Police corruption is exposed. Enemies are created. Alliances are formed. The guilty scramble, and eventually react. Islanders want compensation for their losses. The press hounds Julie and Tom, seeking details of the murder and suspected police abuse. Evading the press, they make it to the medical school where Julie is anxious to begin her four-day interview process. An unexpected ally arranges a job interview for Tom at a luxury villa. Despite unanticipated twists and turns in their path toward their happily ever after, Julie and Tom are challenged to accept the ever-changing rhythms of the island.

Larry Allan has been living in the Low Country for more than a decade and is a member of the Savannah Writers Group. Originally from Minnesota, he sold everything and moved to a Caribbean island. Twice. He may have worked illegally at times, depending on how you look at it. While his formal training was in electronics and robotics maintenance, he excelled as an informal concierge and cultural attaché to faculty, staff and visitors at an off-shore medical school. His island procurement skills and his beachside cocktail hours remain legendary among medical experts on five continents. He enjoys fishing, home improvement and spending time with his wife and dog in his spare time.

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JULIE and TOM BANKS travel to the island of Sinagua, where Julie is interviewing for a counseling position at a Caribbean medical school. While touring the culturally diverse island, they witness an accident. A truck driver dies. The goat lives. Accused of murder, they are jailed. Knocked unconscious, Tom recovers on the floor of the jail, and interacts with prisoners, inappropriately. A video of the accident emerges. After examining the facts, and the truck's contents, police corruption is exposed. Enemies are created. Alliances are formed. The guilty scramble, and eventually react. Their video is seen on TV and locals give Tom a nickname. Deception reigns. The press hounds Julie and Tom, seeking the details of the murder, and suspected police abuse involving Tom. With help, the couple evaded the press making it to the medical school where Julie is beginning her four-day interview process. The Chief Prosecutor, is waiting, catching them off guard, and deposes them in the Dean's office. Eyebrows at the medical school are raised. Tom walks to the beach, and is blindsided by the press. The Chief Prosecutor seeks justice. Julie's interviews progress. The school's British office manager provides Julie with comforting inside information. The couple dines, and is jointly interviewed by the Dean of the medical school. Impressions are made, not the kind you want. Tom interviews with a millionaire who owns a yacht provisioning company, and offers Tom a high-profile job as concierge and manager at his luxury vacation Villa. Tragically, a medical school student dies in an accident, accelerating the need for Julie's expertise. The Dean tests Tom's loyalty. Julie and Tom learn they were deceived, disappointingly, by each other. A surprise from the anatomy Department is accidentally placed as cake at a birthday party for a professor. They sing and dance, looking to the future as they party the night away.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 2

Looking for a Chicken

Two days earlier

After a smooth flight from Minneapolis, we changed planes and were flying out of Miami on our way to the island of St. Maarten, and then the island of Sinagua. Julie and I finally had a chance to relax. The craziness of a week that included moving, kenneling our dog, Bart, and a hastily scheduled interview lay behind us, and a tropical island in the sun arose alluringly before us.

I always enjoyed the window seat, not because of the view but because it was more relaxing. The bulge of the plane at the window was just more comfortable.

Preparing for her interview, Julie was busy using her laptop. She studied her presentation on Stress Management and how it related to medical school students. The Sinagua School of Medicine, our destination, had provided the subject to her.

Julie polished her presentation and reviewed the profiles of the professors who might be interviewing her. It calmed her. During the previous week, Julie researched the Sinagua School of Medicine. She was surprised to see the school only had thirty or so full-time professors.

The students arrived in Sinagua, well-educated, having scored high on the M-CAT, the standard test given to students in the United States when they were entering medical school. Most students had already earned Master’s Degrees of some sort in, biology, chemistry, or any number of degrees that met the standards for entering medical school. Considering it was strictly a medical school that started with gross anatomy followed by courses in physiology, microbiology, and pharmacology, just to name a few, thirty seemed to be an appropriate number of professors.

The professor’s names indicated a diverse faculty. Patel, Johnson, Stein, McPherson, Li, Strobel, Van Der Zandt, and Skinner. Julie grew more impressed, as she determined what schools they attended, and the subjects they taught. It was an impressive list from around the world.

Julie was looking forward to her interviews. She worked as a rehabilitation counselor on a locked psych ward at a hospital for six years in Minnesota, while pursuing her PhD. Dealing with doctors was not anything new to her. She was confident and capable and earned respect from all her coworkers, professors, and supervisors.

My wife is driven and goal oriented. Always proud of her, I was willing to do everything to help her reach her potential. I told her often.

Besides working my job, I cooked, shopped, cleaned, and did everything necessary to make her life easier. We were in this together. Julie just completed her internship at Grand Valley State near Grand Rapids, Michigan. She applied for numerous postdoctoral positions. I laughed – okay, we laughed - when she filled out applications for Caribbean medical schools. She also applied for federal internships available in many far-away places. The nice thing about internships outside of the United States, was that they paid quite well. The downside, however, is that the internship may not carry the prestige of those available stateside. Our debt load was barely manageable. Maintaining our home in Minnesota and renting in Michigan for a year cleaned out our savings and increased Julie’s student loans. We were willing to take a chance if necessary.

A medical school in the Caribbean was the first response to the many applications filed. The medical school was US accredited and satisfied all the requirements for future licensure. The call from the school came while we were on our way home from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Things were moving fast.

We were feeling proud, and the fruits of our labor could now be seen.

I nudged Julie.

“Check this out.”

Looking out the window together, we watched the uninhabited sandy atolls glimmering in the sun, their white sand beaches disappearing slowly into the deep blue sea.

We smiled at each other and enjoyed a private chuckle, knowing we were really on our way to that paradise we had imagined only a week ago.

It was about a two-and-a-half-hour flight. The plane was full, and I tolerated flying at best. Looking out the window, I saw that the once blue skies had become dotted with thunderhead clouds. The clouds started to take on a more ominous dark gray, and they extended well above the altitude we were flying.

Suddenly and violently, we hit turbulence. One of the flight attendants fell in the aisle and drinks spilled from one end of the plane to the other. The captain quickly apologized for the unexpected turbulence, and calmly gave the instructions to remain seated until the seatbelt light was turned, off. We started to weave in and out around the massive thunderheads. I knew we would be just fine, but the situation made me tense, nonetheless. After twenty minutes, the skies cleared. I could see the blue water below, and cargo ships, and the occasional sailboat, traveling between the long arcing chain of islands that made up the Caribbean.

Anticipation engulfed us as we started our slow descent into St. Maarten. The skies were bright and sunny as we flew over numerous uninhabited islands. Just seconds before the plane landed, I was looking at a hotel surrounded by beautiful palm trees and a pool.

Moments later, we were thrust forward in our seats. The pilot was hitting the brake hard; it reminded me of landing at Midway Airport in Chicago. Looking out the window it was clear, a new terminal was being built, and construction was everywhere.

Because we were in a large jetliner, I assumed we would pull into a terminal with the gangway. That was not happening. We stopped about two hundred yards from a nearby building. Two men struggled to roll a set of stairs to the exit of the airplane between the cockpit and the wing of the plane.

Exiting the plane, we were asked to follow the instructions of the personnel on the ground. When we approached the bottom of the old but freshly painted stairs with our overstuffed carry-on luggage in hand, a tall skinny man with a heavy island accent was repeating.

“Welcome to da Island mon, follow da white line an wait for de bus over dare.”

The sun beat down on us as we stood on the tarmac. Grateful for the constant breeze blowing over us, we waited patiently for the bus to arrive.

As some of the first passengers to get off the plane, we did not expect to stand for very long. Ten minutes passed. We watched the aircraft service personnel scramble to get the plane ready for departure. They were all dressed in matching uniforms, with long pants and long sleeves. All locals and not a drop of sweat could be seen. Conversely, most everyone waiting for the buses was starting to pour out sweat.

One by one, the buses finally arrived, and the passengers calmly wrestled each other to be first in line. The bus was old. A row of four poles ran down its center. Limited seating was available for the very old and very young. A sign stating “Capacity 24” was clearly ignored. There were at least forty-five people and many bags crowded into the bus.

The driver stated loudly, “I dake you do da baggage claim. I be sorry for da long wait in da hod sun. Follow da crowd to da carousel numba foe.”

We were dropped off next to a large corrugated steel building. It looked like an old military Quonset hut but much bigger, nearly thirty feet high. A row of fans hugged the ceiling nearly twenty feet apart from each other down the center of the long building. Running on low speed, they were useless and did nothing to squelch the heat as the old terminal sat baking in the sun.

The reason for building a new terminal was quite clear; however, the existing terminal had charm and character. I imagined planes from a bygone era landing, their passengers finely dressed, holding their hats. I instantly thought of the old movie, Casablanca.

Several planes landed in a short period. Getting our bags was a little chaotic, but we soon had them in our hands, realizing the heat was a small price to pay for entering paradise.

Being directed by more local airport personnel, we were told “Take your bags to da customs mon. Have your paypas and passports ready.”

The airport workers were welcoming, happy, and willing to accommodate all our needs, and the sound of the local language was soothing and relaxing; nothing was rushed, including the long line of people waiting to go through customs. However, our connecting flight to Sinagua was scheduled to depart in one and a half hours, and the site of such a long line at customs moving so slowly was quite disturbing.

Standing in a long hallway cramped like sardines, holding our passports, and moving our bags six inches every two minutes was pure torture. I knew why the locals were so happy: they did not need to stand in line.

Never one to be patient, I was getting antsy. What I hoped would be a few minutes turned into nearly an hour. The sound of aircraft engines, both jets and propellers, echoed over the din of chatter from the cramped horde of people, serving only to increase my anxiety as I wondered if our plane was getting ready for takeoff.

Finally, we were...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 29.6.2023
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-0321-8 / 9798350903218