Chapter 2
Two
February 28
Three days into my vacation, and I’ve never felt physically better. I’ve spent two long days on the beach and in the water, and I’ve visited the local library; it’s air-conditioned and quiet, and for a tiny island, it’s well-resourced. I’ve been poring through reference books, trying to make sense of what I’m reading about custody laws. When my brain begins to protest, I switch over to memoirs written by divorcées. I want to know how they survived. How did they start living again?
I feel healthier, stronger, and I’m gaining perspective on my life. I’m trying to figure out how to be reunited with my boys and what I need to do next.
When my body tells me it’s time for dinner, I head to We Be Jammin’. I’ve become comfortable sitting at the end of the bar nearest the beach, where I’m reached by the breeze off the ocean. The salty air and the daily taste of fresh fruit and rum have become some of my favorite sensory memories. This afternoon, country music is playing quietly over the speakers, filling in until the band advertised on the sign out front arrives and gets set up. It’s been the same routine every night I’m here. I tap my fingers to the beat.
The messy bun on top of my head is shaken and I jump, startled by the contact. I turn to look, and there he is—the retired Olympic swimmer.
“Hi, sunshine!” he says with a big smile.
Anxiety skitters down my spine to join the punch-in-the-gut sensation from being startled. I’m not used to being touched, least of all by strangers. Maybe I’m too sensitive, but the tap on the head reminds me of how this man hit me when I was floating in the ocean. But I’m new to the island, so maybe this is just how some people say hello. The social customs down here are a lot different from what I’m used to in the cold north.
“It’s the shark,” I say, making an effort to match his smile as he sits on the stool next to mine. I look over at Sarah for an out, but she’s busy behind the bar, bouncing to the music’s rhythm while slicing fruit for garnishes.
“I’d like to properly introduce myself. I’m Jack.” I’m a bug caught under a microscope as he focuses on me. “Are ya enjoying your time on St. John?”
“I’m Isa, and yes, very much. It’s a nice escape.”
“What are ya escaping from?” He leans toward me, and I lean back.
My smile disappears immediately. “Maine.”
“Now, what would a beautiful lady like you need to escape from in a place as beautiful as Maine?”
That’s a personal question! Oh, why couldn’t I have just said something inane in the first place? I don’t want to think about my life when I’m trying to enjoy myself.
“The cold.” …my ex-husband, his family, the grief that I can’t see my babies.
“When do ya head back to the cold?” Jack’s smile is blinding against his tanned skin. The white around his eyes from his goggles makes his eyes appear brighter too. I look away, afraid he’ll see too much. I crane my neck around; we’re the only people in the bar. Sarah must have run to the stock room to get ready for tonight’s crowd.
“I’m not sure? I don’t have plans yet. My ticket’s open-ended.” Oh, why did I tell him that? Isa, you have to get better at keeping private information to yourself. Remember, you’re a single woman on an island by yourself. Be strategic!
“Don’t ya have a job to go back to? Family? Boyfriend?”
“No, I don’t.” I hold back the tears threatening to roll down my face.
Jack is blessedly silent, and thirty seconds pass in which neither of us speaks. My nascent tears are drying as I try not to squirm with awkwardness at having Jack stare right at me. I have to look away.
“Well, hey. I’m going out on the boat in the morning. Gonna do some snorkeling at one of my favorite reefs. Care to join me? It’ll be a lot of fun, give ya something else to think about, and you’ll see more of the island than this bar.”
“Just you and me?” It’s a sweet offer, but I can see the headline now: Mainer missing at sea; tan stranger suspected of murder. My stomach churns, and I take a sip of my drink to wet my suddenly dry mouth.
Jack chortles and lays a hand on my arm. “Oh, no. Some of my friends are coming too.”
“Well, as long as other people are there. I’ve never snorkeled before.” I pull away from Jack’s grip, dislodging his hand, and not knowing what to do with my arms, wrap them around myself. Are all the folks on the island this touchy-feely?
“You’ll look cute in a mask and snorkel.” Jack is undeterred by my coldness.
I push my lips into a polite smile. All this attention from a man is unfamiliar. Why me?
“So, how are things in Maine?” My train of thought skids off the rails with his question.
“I just”—breathing deeply, I pick up my drink—“would rather not talk about it right now. Can I buy you one of these?”
“Oh, sure. No pressure. And I’m buying.” He holds his hands up, fingertips toward the ceiling, then swings around to the bar and to Sarah, who’s checking the stock in the well. “I’ll have what Isa is having.” She makes Jack a rumrunner too. “Thank ya.” He raises his plastic cup with an umbrella and orange slices in my direction before downing nearly all of its contents in one swallow. From the speakers, Old Dominion sings advice about ending a relationship. I wish I would’ve thought to end things with Ben when he began to show his true colors, but then I wouldn’t have had my boys.
I laugh bitterly to myself. I don’t have my boys anyway.
Jack is back to looking at me when I peek at him from the corner of my eye. I’m on edge, afraid I’ve angered him by refusing to answer his question. I cast about for a change in subject to head off his negative emotions.
“Um, I noticed when you bumped into me that you have professional goggles, and um, you’re really tan. Do you spend a lot of time swimming or something?” Smooth, Isa. You scared little rabbit. Ben’s scorn-filled voice is loud in my head.
I’m out of practice at having conversations with people in my generation, let alone hot retired Olympic swimmers. I take a sip of my drink, and the rum makes my head dizzy.
“I have a place here. I’m from eastern Tennessee and back home is beautiful, but I prefer the island lifestyle. Much more laid back and happy and easy. No stress.” He move his hand away from himself as if mimicking a surfer gliding in to shore.
“I’ve never been to Tennessee.”
“I’ve been to Maine several times. I love the small fishing towns. Lobster and Damariscotta oysters…” His eyes go soft, and he absently rubs his hand across his abdomen, his surfboard-themed T-shirt covering those defined abs I’d seen when we met.
“Yeah, some of the towns are pretty, and lobster is good. I’ve never had the oysters.” Lobster is cheap in Maine, but I never learned how to prepare oysters, and they’re expensive in restaurants. The one time I went to try them early in our marriage, Ben said we couldn’t afford them, making me miss my chance to see what all the fuss is about.
“The water is too cold for me there,” I add. And the people aren’t warm either—at least the ones I know.
We talk about our favorite things to do when we were young. I’m surprised when he tells me he learned how to play guitar. I thought he would tell me about all the medals he won on his swim team.
Sarah winks at me when she brings us new drinks, but otherwise she stays away. That wink—is she matchmaking by not interrupting us? What does she know about Jack? My breathing quickens as the panic rises. I’ll have to pin her down and ask her later. I’m newly divorced; it’s too soon to start a new relationship.
Jack’s not picking up on my vibes, though. Instead, he’s increased the frequency of his flirty questions, and I’m answering them between deliberately deep breaths. This is not like me at all. But then, the me of six months ago never imagined she’d be divorced, let alone temporarily living on a tropical island.
I’m relieved he’s leaving out the hard questions. The ones I want to forget the answers to. I still don’t understand what he sees in me. But it’s nice having someone’s full attention. And even nicer that he’s good-looking. Although I once thought Ben was handsome.
I swivel around on my stool, putting my back to the bar. A few more people wander in, some obviously tourists, while others could be workers here for happy hour. They greet each other like long-lost pals. One woman’s mesh beach bag catches on a chair in front of us, and Jack’s quick to untangle it for her, his fingers deftly plucking at the crocheted strands. What a thoughtful guy.
Maybe it’s the rum, maybe it’s the loneliness, but I’m looking forward to going out on the boat tomorrow. It’s time to get to know more people. Branch out. Make friends.
The canned music is nearly drowned out by the newcomers, but it’s loud enough for Jack to sing harmony with Thomas Rhett about sometime in October. His voice is smooth and smoky, and when he hits a particularly low note, my insides get all squirmy and my face gets hot. At the part about the guy guessing the girl’s middle name, he stops singing.
“Mary?” Jack asks me.
“What?” I rotate so I’m facing Jack.
“Mary? Is Mary your middle name?”
“Nope.”
“Anne? Is it Anne? Anne is my momma’s name.”
“Not a chance.” I laugh, knowing this could go on all night. My middle name is the one thing my parents left me with that I always wanted to change growing up, but now that they’re gone, I’ll keep it for always. I just won’t ever use it.
“Lynn?”
“Getting closer.”
“Can I have your last name? So I can use it for flow?”
“Flo is not my middle name.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “She’s got jokes! If I had your last name, I could see how your middle name would flow with it.”
If you had my last name, I wouldn’t have a bastard of an ex-husband. My smile disappears.
“It’s not Isa Flo Cushing,” I force out between clenched teeth. The good time I was having at a bar on a beautiful beach far away from what I’m trying to forget has drained away. Jack puts his hands on my bare knees and holds them tight.
“Did I say something wrong?” Jack seems genuinely concerned, and the last thing I want to do is to start crying. S tay strong, Isa. Stay strong.
“No, I think I’ve had too much to drink.”
Jack keeps holding on, absentmindedly stroking the insides of my knees. The calloused tips of his fingers scrape along my sensitive flesh, and I suppress a full-body shiver. “I’m not trying to pry or hurt you in any way. I come here to escape reality too. When I’m stateside, all people do is try to take from me. It’s the nature of the business I’m in—I realize that. But here, I can relax and just enjoy my life.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really not used to nice people. It’s been a long time since someone has been kind to me, let alone taken the time to get to know me. I’m new at this.” How can I enjoy life when my children, my life, were taken from me?
As my voice fades, Jack softly squeezes my knees. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to get to know you, and I swear I’m not mean to anyone.” I look from his hands on my knees to his face and return his smile, although I’m sure it’s more like a grimace.
“Thank you. I’m not sure I can be a good friend. I don’t have a lot to give to anybody.”
“I’m not asking for anything, and don’t underestimate yourself. You’re a lot of fun, and I’m bored.” He looks sincere, and if his bleached-out T-shirt and swim trunks are evidence of the time he’s spent lounging on the beach, he’s not kidding. “Besides, you need a tour guide. Did you rent a car to get around the island?” I shake my head. They drive on the left side of the road down here, so it’s too dangerous for me. I have too much on my mind to have space to learn.
“You want to be my tour guide?” It feels good to laugh again. “You’ve already invited me to snorkel with your friends. You’re doing a lot.”
“You look like ya need a friend, and I just so happen to be looking for a friend. So, we’re a good fit.” Jack sobers. “And in case you’re wondering, I’m not a stalker, a serial killer, a psychopath, or a thief. Ask Sarah.”
Sarah looks up. “Nope, not a serial killer.” She goes back to what she’s doing.
“There ya have it—Sarah said I’m alright.”
“Jack, listen, you’re very nice, but I…” I try to find the right words. “I have a lot of things to figure out. I doubt I’ll be good company.”
The sun has started to sink over the water, creating a warming light that shows off our tans. The warm breeze blowing in from the beach is competing with the air moved by the large wooden ceiling fan above us. I’m in an alternate universe, and the past six months—no, the past five years—have never happened.
“Just be yourself.”
I bite my lip and consider Jack’s offer, then finally give in. If I’m honest, I’m getting bored too. I need to do more with my days than go to the library, and it would be fun to explore the huge national forest that takes up much of the island.
“Sure. You can be my tour guide.” Jack’s smile grows bigger when he hears my answer. I cover his hands, still on my knees, with my own. This time I’m the one who squeezes. “Thank you.”
We pull away to toast on our agreement, then continue our guessing game while we finish our drinks. It takes me a long time to guess his middle name is Avery.
“It’s time to put ya to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.”
Maybe it’s the rum, maybe it’s the warm night, but I feel renewed and optimistic about the future. Funny how after one night of talking with someone who isn’t trying to cause you emotional pain can help you make it through a rough patch in life.
Jack stands up and takes my hand. “Let’s go,” he says, and leads me toward the water and my villa. Our feet splash in the warm returning tide as we make our way down the beach. I point out my villa and Jack accompanies me to my door.
“Thanks for hanging out with me tonight,” he says with a chuckle.
“Oh no! I forgot to pay our tab.” Worried, I want to run back to pay Sarah.
“It’s all set; I have a house tab there. Please let me take care of it. It’s the least I can do after scaring ya the other day.” We turn so we are facing each other, like two teenagers on a first date. “You really made my night. I’ve had more fun tonight talking to ya than I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me too.” I put my hand on my door to steady myself as dizziness washes over me. Rum and hot men are a dangerous combination.
“I need your number so I can let ya know when I’m on my way.”
I laugh, thinking that Jack, being older, should be smoother than that. I fish in my bag for my phone and look up the number; it’s still new enough that I don’t have it memorized. He pulls out his phone and enters my number as I read it to him.
“Get some rest. I have a fun day planned for ya.” Jack leans forward and kisses my cheek, leaving his lips there longer than required. Long enough to mean something. “I’ll see ya in the morning, Isa Jane.”
The kiss on my cheek—that simple, tender gesture—is enough to break my heart and make it whole again. It’s a revelation of kindness and generosity, and my arousal becomes more than I can bear.
“Jack, um, do you want to come in?” After being forced into bravery over the last few months, this time I make the choice myself.
He stills and looks into my eyes, as if he’s checking to see whether I’m certain. Yes, I am. I’m certain I’ll combust if I don’t get this man into my bed.
“Yes, ma’am,” he finally answers, his voice gravelly. “I do indeed.”