Chapter 1 On the Island #4
Two kids are throwing a ball back and forth, a dog darting between them almost like monkey in the middle.
A man leans against a tree smoking. He stares at a pair of girls who walk by, their thick hair accented with tied bandanas and skirts flowing in the wind as if they’re in the middle of a photo shoot or some kind of hair commercial. I snap about a zillion pictures.
There’s a steady stream of people who go by, and almost all of them either wave at John or call out to him or stop by to talk.
I watch him chat and smile, and I’m completely flabbergasted by this person in front of me.
Who is he, and where did he come from? Holding my phone up, I zoom in on him, snapping a picture before I realize I’ve done it.
Either he heard the click or he can just sense my stare but, either way, he comes over and sits across from me.
A group of guys he was talking to follow him over, cajoling him to introduce us.
And then, for a solid twenty minutes, I’m introduced to about two dozen people—names I forget instantly because I know getting out my notebook and writing them down would be weird.
“Shoo, shoo!” Alvita scolds, carrying two steaming plates of something that smells like a thousand calories. She places them down in front of us while the crowd disperses.
I lean over my plate and inhale. Grilled fish and meat and rice mixed with vegetables and sausage. “It smells amazing.”
Alvita tsks, and I worry I’ve offended her. But when I look up, she’s smiling.
“Wait until you taste it,” John says.
He’s right, the smell is right, everything about this food is right. I take a few pictures before digging in. I can’t help moaning while I eat.
“Good?” John asks, smiling around his own bite.
I moan some more, and he laughs. I’m not even embarrassed.
When my plate is empty, I push it away from me and then clutch my stomach. “Ooh, I ate too much.” I shouldn’t have done that to myself, but I didn’t want to waste a single morsel.
“It’s hard not to,” John says.
Alvita reappears and clears out plates. “Did you like it?” John slips her some cash.
“How would you feel if business picks up a little?” I ask.
She’s taken aback by my question. There’s been maybe a handful of people who came through while we ate. Steady for this little place. But I could make it blow up.
“People like my posts. I love a place, they go there.”
She looks at me in disbelief.
“It’s true. I mean, you won’t become famous, but your traffic will double, at least.” Their faces. I wish I’d never said anything. “Not to toot my own horn or anything.”
“Consider it tooted,” John says.
I can’t read his expression, but I can guess his thoughts. Bad review. Fewer tourists to the resort. And all my fault. I mean, I just admitted it.
“Anyway.” I decide to ignore him and the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I ate too much, that’s all. “Just be prepared to get a few more customers than usual.”
“Whatever you say.” Alvita shakes her head, but she’ll see. She turns to John. “See you, sweetie.” She kisses him on the head.
I get up from the table and head to the car, but John doesn’t make it more than two steps before two women step into his path with warm greetings. I think everyone on the island knows John.
I head to the ocean instead. The beach is covered in rocks, and the water seems to drop off quickly.
Not a great place for swimming, but it’s beautiful.
Wind whips my hair around my head, and my dress flaps against my legs.
Waves hit the shore at regular intervals.
I close my eyes and listen. Breathe deep.
I’ve travelled a lot of places now, but the ocean will always be my number one.
Looking back, John is still talking to the women, so I slip off my sandals and walk carefully across the rocks and dip my toes in the water.
It’s cold but not unbearable. I take a couple of steps deeper but that’s all.
The waves are strong and I don’t want to get swept under.
Even though I’m a good swimmer, I don’t really want to get wet right now. Plus—the rocks.
“Careful, it gets deep right there.”
I don’t look at John—he’ll just see my annoyance. Disturbing my peace, stating the obvious, and that whole twisty feeling in my gut that says I might have been just a tiny bit wrong about him. All of this is annoying me right now.
I walk away from him, following the shore but keeping my feet in the water. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s following me. Surprisingly, this doesn’t annoy me.
The view in front of me is nothing but sand meeting ocean meeting sky.
I breathe to the sound of the ocean. It really is beautiful on this tiny island.
Is that why John came here—why he decided to build a resort here?
I’ve never asked. It seems impossible to find this place without having some original tie to it.
I spin around and stub my toe on a rock. “Ow, ow, ow!” I lift my foot instinctively and then lose my balance.
John’s arms go around my waist. He pulls me up and into him before I can biff it onto my butt.
I’m pressed against him, our faces inches apart. I think I’ve stopped breathing, so I inhale. It sounds like a gasp. His eyes go to my lips.
I panic. And end up practically screaming in his face. “Why here?”
He blinks and lets me go.
“Sorry. Thank you. Why here?” I’m babbling. My hair blows in my mouth. I turn my head to get it out and to regain some composure. “Why this island?”
Instead of answering, he starts walking again. Carrying my sandals in one hand, I keep pace with him. I don’t have much of a choice—he’s my ride.
The shore thins out until it’s mostly rock. After a few minutes, John climbs onto a big one and sits. He holds a hand out for me.
I could just turn right around and walk back to the car. I could.
I grab his hand and clamber onto the rock. My legs drape over, I tuck in my dress so it doesn’t blow up.
“I used to come here as a kid,” John says. His gaze is on the ocean, and mine is on him. “I never really knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. Did you?” He looks at me now.
“Yeah. A vet. Until I realized that I really don’t like animals much.”
He laughs. “I had no clue. But I wanted to live here. Some of my best memories are from here.”
I wait for more, but he doesn’t elaborate. So I decide to be a good journalist and push. Maybe if I know him better, I’ll understand him more. “You decided to open a resort. Did you buy the land? Or was it here already?”
His jaw tenses. “The resort was already here, but it was old, and much smaller. My dad bought it.”
“What happened?”
“He died. Before it ever opened.”
“I’m sorry.”
The only sound between us is the ocean waves.
“How is your mom doing?”
I blink at him in surprise.
“Your dad called me when you were here last year. He told me about the diagnosis.” John looks at me. “It must have been hard to be here during that time.”
I swallow—can’t say anything. Shame makes my skin itch. I rub my hands over my arms.
“Has the chemo made a difference?”
“Who knows? Doctors say one thing but then… I mean, she’s fine.” I shake my head. “No, that’s a lie. She’s not fine. I hate that I always tell people she’s fine.”
“It’s because you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe,” I reply.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know the answer. The real one.”
He means it. I can tell by his expression. Out of everyone I know, John is the last person I thought I’d talk to about this, and yet I do. I tell him about my mom’s illness, how it’s affecting her and me and my dad, how much it sucks.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I say. “Who knows how much longer she has?”
He brings his knees up, drapes his elbows on them. “Then why are you here?”
He’s not being rude; he genuinely wants to know why I came back. This is something my dad didn’t tell him. “Dad asked me to.”
He said I wasn’t fair to John. Said I was wrong. Said it was the first time he’d ever read me give a biased review.
So I came back to prove to him I was right. I don’t let personal feelings get in the way of my writing. He was the one who didn’t know his friend. I saw the real John that day in his office.
“I’m glad you came back,” he says softly.
Looking over at John now, I think I might have been wrong after all.
I’m back at the concierge desk. Frances—the girl from yesterday who suggested I take a tour and witnessed the entire awkward exchange between John and I—is there again.
“How was it yesterday?” she asks, and I’m sure the question isn’t innocent. But I’ve got some probing questions for her, as well.
“It was good. I got to see a lot of the island. Ate some amazing food. Bought this bracelet.” I show her a cuff on my arm engraved with flowers. I fell in love with it at first sight.
Frances grabs my hand so she can examine the bracelet. “That’s gorgeous! Where did you get it?”
“From a little market on the north side. Near the bay.”
“Oh! Where all the scuba divers go.”
“So I heard. In fact, I’d like to book an excursion there for tomorrow, if I can.” I had no clue about that place on my last visit.
“Definitely.”
After she books me in and explains the details, I linger at the desk.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asks. “Another excursion? We have a very relaxing sailboat—”
“No, I’m not going to book anything else for now.” I glance behind me to make sure no one is waiting in line. “I actually have some questions for you about your time here, your job. How do you like working here?”
“I really like it. It’s one of the best jobs I’ve ever had.”
I want to pull out a notebook so I don’t forget anything, but that usually makes people clam up. Besides, I’m not sure she’s being entirely truthful with me right now.
“What did you do before this?”
“I cleaned hotel rooms on the mainland.” She shakes her head. “I had to move for this job, but it was so worth it.”