Chapter 11
With just ten seats and only eight passengers, including Karim, Dan, and her, this aircraft bound for Atiu was by far the smallest Libby had ever been on.
Doubts and nerves crept in. More so when the co-pilot squeezed himself out of the little cockpit and welcomed everyone aboard. He looked barely out of his teens!
“Relax, Libby.”
She blinked at Dan, a giant in the land of the munchkins. His long legs filled the narrow aisle between them.
“So what if the pilot doesn’t even look old enough to drive,” he whispered. “And so what if his co-pilot is doing a crossword puzzle instead of his safety checks.”
“What?” Her gaze shot back to the cockpit, and sure enough, the co-pilot was filling in boxes in a newspaper. When one propeller thrummed into action, closely followed by the next, he placed the pen and paper down and flicked a couple of switches. Libby held her breath.
The aircraft began to taxi.
“At least the engine works,” Dan said.
Libby reached for Karim’s hand and triple-double-checked his seat belt.
Massive passenger planes were one thing, but this…
Oh, god! Engines whirled, the ground fell away, and she drowned in another tsunami of mom guilt.
How could she put her son’s life at risk like this?
Not even to mention how far away from anywhere they were heading.
Nice work, Liberta. Nice work. What the hell was she still trying to prove? Of all the stupid, stupid—
“Chill, Libby. I’m sorry. I was only joking.
” A large hand rested over hers. Her gaze shot to Dan, who was looking at her like people did at a cornered animal.
“I know you don’t like take-offs.” Had he remembered that from their Auckland flight?
His warm smile stilled her thumping heart. “We’re safe. It’s all good.”
Karim was happily running his toy truck along the armrest, oblivious to her panic. Libby exhaled. “I’ll be okay in a minute,” she said.
Dan removed his hand from hers. Her stomach dipped, and the fact that she missed the warm, solid weight of his touch was just as unnerving as the little paper airplane they were flying in.
After spending so much time on her own these past few months, it was nice having someone look out for her.
Even if it was just for a moment. Unsure what to make of that, she turned her attention back to Karim.
But as he played with his truck, her mind drifted back to Dan and the many sides to his personality.
There was the grumpy, pity-partying athlete, dealing with his injuries and recovery.
Then there was the cheated-on, jilted fiancé.
And last night, Libby had stumbled across the young boy who’d been forced to grow up overnight when he’d lost his dad.
That whole dinner had been an eye opener for her.
Carina was lovely, so incredibly strong—physically and mentally.
Malek was cute, too, and despite his strongman image, he was very unassuming.
And as for Dan… Well, this morning was the happiest Libby had seen him.
She’d been eating breakfast with Karim when he’d gotten back to Tia Rosa’s, announcing there were still places on the flight and he’d bought the same budget package as her, in the same accommodation.
“So we’ll still be roomies?” she’d said. “I’ll best stock up on nail polish and face masks.”
He’d almost grinned. Hints of excitement had lifted that scowl around his dark eyes, and—wait? Hadn’t he made a joke just now about the pilots?
Libby studied him as he looked out of the window.
When was the best time to ask him for an interview?
The next time she wore her showbiz eyelashes and got her selfie stick out, he’d soon know what she did for a living—or was trying to do.
She also had her press pass tucked into her bag, ready to give her some professional kudos when she was filming in public places or when she was interviewing local people about their daily life on the island.
Wouldn’t it be natural that she’d also ask to interview her famous roommate, too?
“Oh, look, sweet cheeks.” Libby pointed out of the window as they flew over tiny coral islands amidst the deep blue Pacific.
Karim kicked his legs, babbling quietly to himself as he ran his truck over his knee.
Libby leaned back in her seat and admired the crown of flowers that the old woman sitting in front of Dan wore on her head, the scent as intense as the petals were bright.
They flew over more tiny, tiny islands, ringed with white sandy beaches and clear, pale-blue water, and then the pilot announced that Atiu had come into view.
The island was a dark-green mass of vegetation, circled by the turquoise sea and a white rim of waves breaking on the surrounding reef.
The plane vibrated and bumped in the air as it circled the island and then descended to a short runway that Libby could barely see from the window.
She closed her eyes and held her breath.
“Mamma, look! Cluck-cluck.”
She opened her eyes. Karim was pointing out of the window to where three chickens walked across the runway.
Libby hooted. “We’ll never see that at JFK, honey.”
When it was time to get off, she unclipped Karim’s belt, then carried him down the flimsy aircraft steps to the solid tarmac.
A slender white lady approached and hung a garland of flowers over Libby’s head.
“Kia Orana!” she said, looping a second garland over Dan and handing a tiny one to Karim. “You must be the Joneses. I’m Andrea.”
“Kia Orana.” Libby shifted Karim in her arms so she could look at his garland of bright-red flowers. “You look gorgeous, honey.”
As did Dan.
The red flowers set off his dark skin and hazel eyes, making him look more handsome and rugged.
“Come. My truck is this way,” Andrea said. She was the manager of the hostel, Manui, where they’d be staying. When she led them to a dusty four-wheel drive, Karim cheered.
“Big truck!”
“Put your things in the back and jump in.” Andrea turned to Dan. “Are you okay sitting up top?”
“Sure.” The corners of his eyes creased as he pulled himself up into the trailer, but he managed it.
Libby sat in the front with Karim on her lap.
“It’s not far,” Andrea said. “Nothing is far away on Atiu, except other islands. I’ll give you a quick tour first so you can get your bearings.” The engine roared to life. “Where’re you from?”
“Northern California. And you?”
“Bonn, Germany.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“About ten years.”
Andrea certainly looked like she’d been here a while. Her dress was similar to the ones the Cook Islander women wore—loose and patterned with flowers—but she didn’t wear shoes. Her bare toes spread as she pressed the pedals.
“You’re the only tourists on the island right now,” Andrea said, turning down a dirt track. She began pointing out places of interest. “This forest is growing out of the makatea. Makatea is an old coral reef, thousands of years old. There are also caves you can explore.”
Libby had read about the Manan Caves and the kopeka birds that nested in them. She’d love to see them, but she didn’t think caving would be safe for Karim.
As they drove along, people were scarce. “I read that the population here is about 400.”
“It’s less than that now. More like 300. The island has been losing people at a fast rate for years. The young men and women of the island soon move away, to Raro or farther. Usually New Zealand and Australia.”
Libby glimpsed the turquoise water through the trees.
The ocean moved up and down in dramatic swells, sending heavy waves crashing against the rocks.
Andrea turned down a steep ramp toward a sectioned-off “pool,” which was separated from the great South Pacific by a concrete wall.
The water level dipped and rose with the ocean.
“This is the harbor. It’s safe to swim in,” Andrea said, and Libby held her breath as three Māori children, not more than ten years old, jumped into it. They came up smiling, pulling themselves out of the pool and jumping in again. “It’s deep enough to dive into.”
“Splash!” Karim squealed.
“I don’t think so, honey. You’re too small.” Libby winced at the mere thought. “We’ll find a rock pool.”
Andrea drove back up the dirt track, back to the tarmacked road.
“This is one of the seven churches we have on Atiu. And over there is one of the four tennis courts. The island is made up of five villages. You’ll be staying in Areora.
” She drove past a white building. “That’s the village hall.
The Christian church is holding an island dance there the night before you fly back to Raro.
Would you like to buy tickets? Children go free, the food is good, and there’ll be a traditional dance performance.
All money raised goes to the church and school. ”
“Sounds awesome. Yes, please.” Libby looked up at the truck’s ceiling. “I’ll get one for him up there too. He’ll enjoy it.”
Not likely, but after ten days relaxing on this little island, Cranky might at least be chilled enough to attend.
A hundred or so meters later, Andrea stopped the truck outside a wide bungalow set back from the bumpy road. “Here we are.” She cranked the handbrake and hopped out.
Libby shifted Karim on her lap and pushed her door open. Dan was already down from the trailer, hauling their bags and the stroller out. Curious children gathered by the neighboring house. They were older than Karim, the eldest among them looking to be about twelve or thirteen years old.
“Hey, kids!” Libby waved.
They grinned back, giggling.
Andrea came to her side, jangling a set of keys in her hand. “I’ll warn you that the village wakes up early.”
“Oh, we do early, don’t we, Karim?”