Chapter 5
Some people considered Rarotonga to be just another suburb of New Zealand, but as Libby strolled around Avarua, signs of the island’s unique culture and Polynesian history were everywhere, like in the floral dresses the local women wore and the flowers they tucked behind their ears.
Before pitching her article to Parent and Child, Libby had thoroughly researched the island.
This morning, she’d already located the essential amenities—grocery stores, the medical center, and the tourist information office—and was now exploring the drugstore, checking out the supplies in case Karim ever needed anything.
His tummy bug was a distant memory—he was eating well, drinking lots, and he was happy looking around in his stroller—but Libby searched for some dehydration relief powder just in case either of them got sick again and then went to the counter to ask if it was suitable for two-year-olds.
“My son and I arrived late last night,” she told the pharmacist and explained that Karim had been sick on the flight. “He’s fine now, but should he get sick again, is Tupapa Outpatients the place to go for medical assistance?”
“Yes. You’ll be well looked after on Rarotonga,” the pharmacist said with a very friendly smile.
She paid for the rehydration powder, along with extra supplies of sunscreen and insect repellent, then placed all the items at the bottom of Karim’s stroller. “Have a nice day.”
“Ka kite.”
“Kah-kee-teh?” Libby cocked her head. “What does that mean?”
“See you later.” The pharmacist then gave her a slow, smooth smile. “I hope.”
Okaaay. People really were friendly here!
Since she’d dyed her hair, she often caught people’s attention, but surely nothing screamed Unavailable like a woman with a young child…
Most men assumed she was married, or at least still with Karim’s father, so Libby enjoyed the male attention for the harmless, friendly flirting that it was and smiled back. “Ka kite.”
After the drugstore, Libby visited the tourist information office.
Serita had said earlier that one of her friends farther along Muri Beach had a small bungalow, although it was available only for two nights.
Other guests had reserved it after that, but it would be available again at Christmas.
That left a ten-day gap in accommodation, and so far, Serita had said that apart from shared rooms in hostels, only hugely expensive resorts—which Libby most certainly could not afford—were available.
Now, Libby was reading a poster in the tourist information office that advertised a flight and accommodation package to Atiu, one of the smaller outer islands.
“This price includes accommodation too?” she asked, her eyebrows rising. “Why so cheap?”
“It’s Christmas,” said the woman behind the counter with a little shrug. “Atiu is small and remote, very quiet compared to Raro.” She tapped a map on the counter. “It’s the farthest you’ll get from your home, I reckon.”
“Cool.” Libby gazed at the tiny dot next to the woman’s finger.
When she’d set out to travel with Karim, she’d wanted to push the boundaries of where single moms could travel to safely and securely with children.
Atiu certainly was one of the remotest islands—and her mind raced with all the videos she could make about it—but she needed to do more research first. “Are these vacation packages in danger of selling out anytime soon?”
“A few backpackers ask from time to time, but you should be alright for a day or so before the next flight out.”
“Thanks.” Libby took a few flyers, then pushed Karim in his stroller out the door. If accommodation was scarce on Rarotonga, she could stay on Atiu until Christmas—until the bungalow that Serita had found was available again.
Cranky Jones, if he’d paid for Are Moana for the whole of December, would still be on Rarotonga too. Would he be any happier by Christmas?
Would he stop and say hello if they happened to be strolling the same stretch of beach one day?
Probably not. He hadn’t even bothered to sit up in bed to talk to her earlier, but maybe if she spent ten days out of his way on Atiu, he would’ve forgotten all about her by the time she came back.
Which would be a good thing. Not being on his radar meant she’d be able to take stealthy photographs of him from a distance, and if—when—he came across her articles about him, he’d never know it was her who’d written them.
The island was full of tourists, and Hot Gossip—or whoever she’d sell her story to—would keep her anonymous.
Pleased with her perfect plan, Libby strolled to Avarua’s harbor. There, she pointed out the colorful boats to Karim that were moored alongside a paved sidewalk.
“Hey, look on the horizon, sweet cheeks!” She pointed to a massive freight ship—similar to the ones she’d see from her bedroom window as a child, imagining them far out at sea, heading for tiny South Pacific islands like this one.
“Aren’t they fascinating? I wonder where it’s going and what it’s carrying. ”
Karim was more interested in the water. “Mommy, swim.”
“No, honey, not here.” Libby kept him strapped into the stroller. “You have to stay there. It’s not safe by these boats.”
But his mind was made up. He tried to wriggle out of his seat and cried when he couldn’t. Her little bomb was about to explode, so she pushed him away to the beach she’d seen through the palm trees that lined the edge of an immaculate lawn.
“Look, a park,” she said. “This is beautiful!”
Spotting the sea, Karim cheered up immediately, transfixed on the shallow, crystal-clear water.
“Let’s play here. This’ll be much more fun.”
She’d barely managed to unclip him before he scrambled out of the stroller and ran into the sea.
“Splash!” he squealed and sat down in the water.
“That’s another set of clothes gone for today, kiddo.”
This morning was for familiarization and errands, and she’d left the bungalow in such a haste that she hadn’t thought to bring Karim’s swimming gear.
But as long as he was happy, Libby didn’t mind.
She slipped off her flip-flops and dipped her feet in next to him, absorbing the glorious view.
The sky was still overcast, but the air and sea breeze were pleasantly warm.
Gray clouds gathered over the horizon, making the sea look pale green-blue.
A thin line of white-frothing water marked the edge of the surrounding reef that kept the wild ocean at bay and the waters of the lagoon calm.
While Karim played quietly on the beach with shells and stones, Libby quickly took photographs on her phone and shot some beach footage for her channel—though who knew when she’d have time to edit another video.
Her patchy sleep last night was already taking its toll.
If she were lucky, she could maybe snatch an hour’s rest while Karim napped this afternoon, and if he settled in their new room tonight, she might have a couple hours left in her to do some prep work for her Parent and Child articles.
Her morning exploring Avarua—and her potential detour to Atiu—had already given her a lot of content ideas.
And as for her Daniel Jones story…
Writing an anonymous article was her only option.
“Pish!” Karim squealed, scaring away all wildlife within a five-mile radius. “Pish!”
“You’ve seen fish, honey? Where?” Libby put her phone away and, fully back in mom-mode, picked Karim up so they could look over the water together. “Yes, there, I see them. Smart boy!”
All thoughts of Daniel Jones and work were pushed to the side in favor of paddling in the water, and by the time Libby managed to lure Karim back to dry land with talk of sticks and stones they’d find in the grass, it was almost lunchtime.
“We’d better have something to eat,” she said. “You must be getting hungry after all that splashing. Let’s have some of those nice wraps we picked up at the market.”
She took Karim’s wet T-shirt and shorts off and dried him using the skirt of her sundress, then
rummaged in her bag for his change of clothes.
They ate lunch on the beach, then she coaxed him into the stroller with a juicy piece of mango she’d bought at a market stall earlier.
It was time for his nap, so Libby decided to walk the thirty minutes back to Muri Beach instead of getting the bus.
He’d be out like a light by the time they got back to Are Moana.
But only if the gods of sleep were on her side today.
By some miracle, they were! The walk had done the trick, and Karim was fast asleep. Libby made her way to the bungalow through the backyard and parked him in the stroller outside the back door. It was open, and Cranky Jones was sleeping, all curled up on the couch bed.
Lucky him, having such a lazy day.
Needing to collect her bags, Libby stepped inside.
Cranky stirred.
She stopped.
With a grunt, he scrambled off the bed and stumbled like a drunken man to the bathroom, one hand slapped over his mouth.
The toilet lid slammed, then came the unmistakable sound of retching. Libby ran to him and screeched to a halt in the doorway when she found him on his knees with his head in the toilet.
Oh no! Had he caught Karim’s bug?
Wincing, she fetched him a glass of water. When she returned, the mess and smell had her stalling in the doorway. The mat and towels were screwed up in the corner, toilet paper littered the floor, and it reeked of vomit.
“Looks like you’ve spent a lot of time in here while we’ve been out,” she said.
The bathwater was still in the bath, and so were a pair of green cargo pants and a blue shirt—the clothes he’d worn on the flight—along with his…
phone? Libby fished it out of the bath, placed it into the sink, then nudged the glass of water at him. “Here. You’d better drink this.”
Hugging the toilet bowl like a life raft, Cranky glanced up with red, glassy eyes.
“Take it,” she said. “You’ve got to keep hydrated.”