Chapter Thirty-three
Sirens wail, monitors beep, alarms go off. When we arrived, in the rush to learn news of Carlos and Sofia’s conditions, I hadn’t thought of how the last time I was in a hospital was when Dad died. Suddenly, grief hits me like a tsunami, and tears slide down my cheeks as I sob silently. I remove my hand from Dexter’s back to wipe them away, causing him to look up at me. Alarm registers on his face.
‘Kat, they’ll be OK.’
I say nothing; I’m not able to. So he takes me by the shoulders and turns me towards him. ‘This is one of the best hospitals in Costa Rica. They’re in safe hands.’
I nod, but still say nothing. How can I explain that whilst I’m worried about Carlos and Sofia and the extent of their injuries, I’m having some kind of flashback to Dad’s death, Dad being in the hospital, Dad never coming home again?
All I want to do is bury my head in Dexter’s chest and feel his arms around me. I know that would provide me with some reassurance right now, but it’s no longer his place to be there for me in that way, and I don’t have the right to ask. Plus, it wouldn’t be fair.
As if reading my thoughts, he sits up, and awkwardly, since we’re sitting side by side, his arms encircle me, then he leans forward into me so that the only place my head can go is on his shoulder.
This is not the action of a romantic partner but of a good friend, and I accept it as such.
Tension drains out of me as I relax into him. It feels so right being here, so right that we’re supporting each other in this way. If only we– for that, read I – hadn’t screwed up our relationship. Maybe we could have had a shot. A real chance.
When we finally break apart, Dexter looks into my eyes with a tenderness that makes my heart stutter, and says, ‘You OK?’
I nod as he moves a strand of hair from in front of my eye.
Somehow as we return to sitting side by side, Dexter’s hand is in mine, in a show of support. And I’m glad, as the stark, clinical nature of the hospital waiting area and the corridors off of it continue to remind me of Dad, but with Dexter here with me, the grief I feel is surmountable.
Suddenly, I sit bolt upright. ‘We need to call the others. They still don’t know what’s going on.’
Dexter rolls his eyes as if he can’t quite believe we forgot. ‘I’ll call the sanctuary; you call Ed.’
After half an hour or so, Javier and Nicolás reappear. Javier’s face is pinched and grey.
‘Mum was awake, but Dad was asleep, or so heavily sedated he couldn’t hear me.’ His voice cracks and he visibly crumples. This time it’s me who supports him first. ‘They looked so awful, with all those tubes coming out of them, and with so many bruises and cuts.’
‘Do we know what caused the accident yet?’ Dexter asks.
Javier shakes his head. ‘No, but the police were talking to one of the doctors about it, and the doctor told them I’m their son. They’ve asked me to let them know when they’re in a position to answer questions. The doctor wouldn’t let the police question Mum yet.’
Dexter and I both nod. Javier stumbles over nothing, and as Nicolás puts a hand on his arm, I realise how unsteady he is on his feet.
‘Javi, Nicolás, do you want me to get you something to drink?’
‘Yes, please.’
I head over to the water dispenser and fill a cup for each of them then take them back to where they have sat down beside Dexter. As I reach them, I hear Dexter tell Javier not to worry about the sanctuary, that he has it in hand, and we’ll help them through this. He’s so calm in the face of this crisis, so practical, it makes my heart swell with love for him.
‘You concentrate on your parents, for now,’ is the final thing Dexter says before I pass the water to Javier, who glances up and gives me a wan smile. ‘Thanks.’
Later, once Javier has been able to see Carlos awake and ascertain that his father is stable, we all head back to the sanctuary so Javier can get some rest before he returns to the hospital in the morning. The nursing staff agreed to keep him updated on any change to his parents’ conditions.
When we pull into the staff car park, light still shines out from the sanctuary building. All the visitors are gone for the day, but I spot Victor heading towards us, arms swinging purposefully.
His already lined face appears to have developed a few more lines since I saw him last, with worry evident in every crease.
‘Any news?’ he asks Javier as we stride towards him.
‘They’re stable at the moment, but the doctor wasn’t able to talk about prognosis or length of recovery yet,’ Javier says disconsolately.
Victor rubs his chin as he absorbs the information. ‘C’mon, let’s get you something to eat. I know most of your mother’s dishes off by heart, so I’ve cooked dinner. Ella and Federica handled lunch.’
Of course. With Sofia out of action, someone will have to cook the meals, possibly for some time to come. Well, cooking’s something I’m good at; I can certainly help with that. I’ll talk to Victor about it later, because much as I’m happy to muck in and do the heavy stuff, I can’t work at the same pace as Victor, so short- to mid-term we need him back at least partially fulfilling his usual role. A slight smile dances on my lips despite the circumstances. I can just imagine Victor in his element in the kitchen. I also wonder if he’ll stick to Sofia’s recipes, or branch out with his own ideas.
The momentary distraction helps release some of the day’s tension as we head towards the canteen where Alejandro is helping ladle out what looks like a hearty soup.
We each take a plate and my mouth waters as I inhale the beefy aroma, and suddenly I realise how long it has been since breakfast. My stomach chooses that moment to rumble and Victor laughs.
‘It’s not the same as Sofia’s, but my sustancia de carne isn’t half bad, even if I say so myself.’
Indeed, his beef soup hits the spot, although I note the veggies he topped it with are different to those Sofia uses.
Everyone else waits for us to eat before delving into how the patients are faring, and it’s with a tentative collective sigh of relief that we all proceed to dessert, once Javier and Dexter have answered everyone’s questions and concerns.
‘Victor, can we talk after dinner?’ Dexter says. ‘We’ll need to come up with a plan for feeding the troops going forward.’
Victor nods, as if he’d expected the suggestion.
An hour later, we sit round the firepit, subdued, but doing our best to keep our spirits up for Javier’s sake. He hasn’t heard anything else from the hospital, which we all tell him is a good sign.
Victor is sitting with Javier and Nicolás, Dexter is talking to Mariangeles, and I am two seats away from him, chatting with Federica about what the next day will bring. Chores are being reallocated to allow for the impact of the unexpected events. One thing is for sure; Carlos, in particular, would want everything to continue like clockwork at the sanctuary, and for us to take care of his beloved sloths. Rocket was supposed to be released into the wild tomorrow, but we’re postponing that as we’re all a little too unsettled. We can delay that a few days. It’s the only thing that Dexter appears to be allowing to deviate from the norm.
Dexter leans over to me. ‘Kat, I’m so sorry, but could you take a taxi to the airport on Friday? I don’t think we can afford anyone to be away from the sanctuary for that long.’
The penny drops for me. I haven’t told Dexter I’m staying. I’d almost forgotten I was intending to go home. That plan seems such a long time ago. I look into his eyes. ‘Dexter, I’m postponing my flight. I can’t go now. Not until Sofia and Carlos are home.’
Dexter stiffens. ‘You’re not leaving?’
‘Yes. And what’s more, I can cook, so I’ll help Victor with the meals.’
For the first time all day, the hint of a smile plays on Dexter’s lips.
‘You’re really staying?’
I hold his gaze. ‘I’m really staying.’
His eyes light up then I say, ‘For now anyway.’
He hesitates a second then pats my arm. ‘Thanks, Kat. That’s good of you.’
Wait, what? Is that it? Yes, I’m doing it for Sofia, Carlos and the sanctuary, and no, I don’t harbour any illusions about us getting back together– sadly, that ship has sailed– but I’m part of the team. We’re all pulling together. But maybe some tiny part of me wanted him to be glad, not just in his role as the sanctuary’s deputy manager, that I was staying, but as someone he had a connection with, and who shared his bed, not so very long ago. My spirits plummet as quickly as they rose earlier, and it’s with relief when Javier says he’s going to call it a night that I tell him I am, too.
The next couple of days pass quickly; with so much to do and so few bodies to do it, free time is scarce. There are still group visits, school visits, educational tours, an infant sloth rescue, an adult sloth rescue, we finally release Rocket into the wild, plus the general upkeep of the sanctuary, caring for the sloths, cooking for everyone– fortunately Victor and I have developed a fluid routine that works, but it still takes up a huge chunk of time. There’s barely a moment left over for us to do much but eat, sleep and shower.
Javier visits his parents daily, and we’ve all agreed that once we’re allowed to, we’ll visit them on rotation. That way Sofia and Carlos will have lots of new faces to see and all the sanctuary chores will be completed on time, and hopefully we’ll manage to keep their sanctuary ticking over just as they like until their return.
After I postponed my flight, by a month, life has continued pretty much as if I hadn’t been intending to return home at all. Well, with one exception: Dexter and I are friends, but nothing more. Although I’ve felt wistful on many occasions about what could have been, usually immediately before I go to sleep, I haven’t had any indication from him that he’d like the status quo to change. Even with my protracted stay at the sanctuary, there hasn’t been the slightest hint that he’d like our romance to get back on track.
The day of Maite’s scan came and went, with Dexter absent for most of the afternoon. Strangely, it didn’t negatively affect me; instead, it consolidated my belief in him as a truly wonderful human being and a good friend– one I’m leaving in a few short weeks.
I suppose I really should start thinking about my future back in Scotland. As things stand, I’ll be starting uni only a few days after I return from Costa Rica, given my new flight booking, and I still haven’t sorted out anywhere to live past Becca’s sofa for the first week.
Somehow, being stuck in this limbo of not returning to Scotland when planned is preventing me emotionally from moving forward, with regards to Dexter and leaving the sanctuary family and the sloths behind, and from beginning to focus on my upcoming studies and my lack of abode.
I’m trying to make the most of my extra time in Costa Rica, but something’s missing. It’s not only Dexter and me not being back together, or any hint of that being on the horizon at any point. I’ve accepted now that we’ll only ever be friends, however painful that may be. No, it’s more connected to the fact I know I’m going home for sure. Before Sofia and Carlos’ accident, it was a fait accompli, but because I decided to delay my return, for some reason it seems more final now. More certain. I know it’s odd, but I can’t help it; it’s how I feel.
I don’t actively try to avoid Dexter, but I do find it difficult to be around him, so it’s good in some respects that we’re all so busy, as our paths don’t cross too much for any length of time, except at mealtimes. He gives me instructions and tasks and is perfectly pleasant with me, but I sense he’s guarded, as I am too. How I wish I knew what was going on inside his head, or maybe it’s best I don’t know.
I’m adding some small logs to a new sloth play area that’s being constructed– the sanctuary is sadly at the highest capacity I’ve seen since I arrived, so we’re planning ahead– when Dexter’s navy cargo-panted legs appear in my line of vision. I straighten up, to see him standing, keys in hand.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
‘Sloth rescue. Up near Jaco. The others are busy. I wondered if you wanted to come.’
Well, I’m not about to say no in any respect. He’s my boss, and maybe some time alone is what we need to get past the awkwardness that still hangs between us, unresolved. I do, however, inwardly bristle slightly at the fact I appear to be last choice.
Without giving away any hint of my mixed feelings, I say, ‘Sure. Let me just wash up.’
When we’re in the truck five minutes later, Dexter puts the radio on and we fall into an uncomfortable silence– well, for me it is, at least. Shortly afterwards, I glance at my watch. Ten minutes have passed. Time is barely moving. It’s over an hour to our destination. This is excruciating. Finally, I crack and latch onto safe ground: the injured sloth.
Dexter fills me in on all the known details and then lapses into silence again. So much for my opening gambit.
I fold my hands in my lap and stare at them as if willing them to provide answers for how to endure this journey. A couple of times, I sense Dexter’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look up to check.
‘Kat. I’m sorry.’
What? I finally look up at him and his eyes are so full of sorrow, if I were standing I’d be undecided whether to take a step back or move forward to give him a hug.
‘What for?’
He exhales heavily then glances at me. ‘I should’ve realised that Maite turning up pregnant could have been misconstrued, but you see, I knew that the baby couldn’t possibly be mine.’ He looks awkward for a second then says, ‘The timing wouldn’t have worked, by several months.’
My brow furrows as he goes on. ‘Even though she worked here up until the end of last year, we weren’t “together” in that way by that point. Our relationship ended early last year.’
The penny drops for me. He knew he could never have been the father, hence it didn’t occur to him that I might think that.
‘But I realise now,’ he goes on, ‘that Maite turning up out of the blue, pregnant, and my reaction, could have made you think otherwise, and I’m sorry I wasn’t clued up enough to consider that.’
I bite my lip, mulling over what he’s saying.
He sighs. ‘And when you assumed the baby was mine, I was so shocked that you would think I’d do that that I overreacted.’ He gives me a sad smile.
‘I’m sorry, too. I also overreacted,’ I say, mirroring his expression.
‘Anyway, I wanted to clear the air. I don’t want things to be “difficult” between us.’
I nod. ‘No, I don’t want that either.’ But where’s the mention of him wanting to give it another go? For a moment, I had a glimmer of hope.
He smiles at me again, but this time there’s warmth instead of sadness in his smile. ‘I’m so glad we sorted that out.’ He pats my arm and it’s as if he has scorched my skin, yet he seems unaware.
Dexter turns back to the road and focuses on the sat nav’s directions. I’m about to see if I can find an in to return to the conversation about ‘us’ when the phone rings.
‘Hi, Javi,’ Dexter replies, putting him on speaker.
As Javier fills Dexter in on the latest from the hospital, I think, once again we’ve missed our chance to rekindle our relationship.
We arrive at the site in Jaco, but this time there’s no person physically waiting with the sloth, or indeed anything to show us exactly where the sloth is except the approximate location Dexter received from the caller. When we get out of the truck, I note how the sky has darkened. I’ve been so lost in thought since before Javier’s call that I hadn’t even noticed. Now, however, I feel that change in the air, smell the petrichor, and I know it’s about to tip it down. Question is, can we find the sloth before that happens? I glance down at my skimpy vest. That wasn’t the best planning, but then I didn’t plan it– Dexter came to find me whilst I was building the play area, so I was kitted out properly for that, just not particularly well for this, if the weather turns.
‘This way,’ says Dexter, looking at the GPS coordinates he has been given.
I follow him into the undergrowth, past groups of tall trees, although I don’t think these are water apple trees. We sweep around, but I can’t see any sign of the sloth. Or any sloths.
‘Damn it,’ says Dexter, just as the first large drops of rain hit my bare shoulders.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘I think the GPS coordinates must be off slightly. It happens sometimes near trees and tall buildings.’
That doesn’t sound good. ‘So what do we do?’ I ask as the rain comes down in vertical sheets, bouncing off the rainforest floor.
Dexter blows out a breath. ‘We have to search a wider area. You have your phone on you, right?’
‘Yes.’ I pat down my pockets to double-check.
‘Good. Let’s try walking in a fifty by fifty metre radius. If nothing, try seventy-five, then out to one hundred. I’ll go this way.’ He points to the left. ‘And you go that way.’ He points to the right. I know it’s probably south by southwest or something like that, but I can just about manage left and right. Fortunately, he’s not going to be too far away. A couple of hundred metres max.
‘Phone me, or shout if you have no reception, if you find the sloth,’ Dexter says.
‘OK.’ I head off, scanning the trees and the ground. I can’t help wondering how exactly the caller saw the sloth, if we can’t see it out in the open. I suppose it could have crawled a little way by now, and it has taken us over an hour to get here.
I try fifty metres, then seventy-five, but the rain is really hammering down now, and despite it being warm, it’s not very comfortable, and it’s also making it exceedingly difficult to see anything. I’m just about to give up and redraw my radius to a hundred metres when I spot something moving in the undergrowth. My first thought is it’s the injured sloth. Then I have a moment’s panic where I consider it could be a wild beast, possibly even a predator, and it might eat me.
As I clear my soaking wet hair out of my eyes, I make out its shape more clearly. It is a sloth. I call Dexter. No reception. ‘Dexter!’ I shout. I wait. Nothing. ‘Dexter!’ I shout, louder. Damn it. He clearly can’t hear me over the driving rain. Still nothing. I go to shout again, but then a noise behind me startles me, and I whirl round to see Dexter, his shirt sticking to his body, and despite the circumstances, a jolt of lust shoots through me.
‘I’m here. Did you find it?’ he asks. For a millisecond, I can barely answer him as I can’t tear my eyes away from the water dripping from his hair, down his face, sliding into the collar of his shirt.
I gesture to where I can see the sloth, just peeking out.
Dexter approaches it tentatively. It’s a few months old, at best guess. But it seems to have blood on its fur, near its stomach.
‘Kat, can you get the med kit from the truck?’
I sprint back to the truck, grab the med kit and jog back.
‘I don’t know what has caused these wounds,’ Dexter says. ‘But it looks like a predator. He could have been lying here since last night if it was an ocelot or puma.’
I shiver, thinking again of my concern at the rustling in the undergrowth. Seems it wasn’t misplaced. I dread to think what I’d have done if I’d come face to face with a puma or ocelot. Screamed probably.
I watch as Dexter expertly handles the animal, tending to its wounds as best he can with the med kit, then he tells me to stay with the sloth, whilst he fetches the cage. When he returns, he’s even wetter than before as the rain hasn’t halted. I can only think what a sight I look.
Once the sloth is safely settled in the truck, Dexter turns on the heater to try to dry us off as we make the journey back to the sanctuary. I’m not sure it does any good, as I’m shivering. I can’t wait to have a hot shower then put some dry clothes on.
Dexter calls the sanctuary on the way back and preps Victor to take over when we arrive so we can go freshen up.
As we swing into the sanctuary car park, the rain suddenly stops.
Mariangeles greets us as we come in the back way. ‘What happened to you two? You’re like drowned rats.’
‘The rain was a little heavy out towards Jaco,’ I say, looking down at my vest top, which I realise to my horror is see-through when Mariangeles folds her arms discreetly over her own chest and raises her eyebrows meaningfully at me.
Fortunately, Dexter’s attention is elsewhere. ‘I’ll take this little guy to Victor,’ he says.
‘I’m going to grab a shower,’ I tell Mariangeles. I’ll catch up with you afterwards.’
The hot water streaming over my skin is balm to my soul after how shivery I felt following the rescue. I open the bathroom door and am about to cross to my room when I see Dexter bending down. It looks like he has dropped something, but what is he doing here? My breath catches in my throat as I note the hard lines of his body, which are clearly visible since he’s only wearing a towel on his lower half, and lust unfurls inside me again.
‘Dexter?’
‘Kat!’ He straightens up and clasps a bottle of shower gel to his chest. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Our showers aren’t working. Alejandro’s away to get a plumber friend to take a look. Mariangeles suggested I use the girls’ ones.’
I bet she did. Matchmaking witch.
‘I think it’s me who startled you.’ I laugh, but I notice his eyes drinking me in. It seems I’m not the only one affected by our state of undress.
We hold each other’s gaze a little longer than necessary, then Dexter waves his shower gel at me in a goodbye. ‘I’d best get dressed.’
As he walks away, back towards the men’s accommodation block, I can’t help the longing that pulses through me. I didn’t imagine how he looked at me. I know I didn’t. He apologised earlier about overreacting to my getting the wrong end of the stick about Maite’s pregnancy, and I apologised too. So what’s holding him back? I stand there for a moment, thinking how I will never understand men, then I wander off to find Mariangeles.