Page 39 of Redemption Island

“You’ve finished it, as far as we are concerned. The trial didn’t include putting you at risk of death. A hurricane is beyond the means of danger.” Garvey walked past me toward one end of the closest trunk. He nodded at his son who stepped forward to the other side.

“Wait,” I said, holding out my hands, one toward each of them. I stepped in front of the case, blocking the removal of my things. “There’s a cave. Up the mountain. That’s where I was. It’s safe there.”

“Sorry, Champ,” Garvey said, “but our orders are to bring you home.”

“Whose orders?” I asked, suspicious.

“Your father’s.”

“No.” I sounded like a petulant child.

“The authorities agree.”

“I’m not going to jail,” I snapped.

“Your sentence has been reassessed due to the circumstances.” Garvey paused examining my face. “What’s really going on here?” he asked, his hand releasing my trunk and his hands coming to rest on his hips. His dark eyes pierced mine with the question.

“It’s the girl, isn’t it?” Colton hissed.

“Colton,” Garvey warned his son, and my attention swung from father to son and back.

“Fine,” I said, swiping a hand through my hair. “It’s the girl. She’s here, and I’m not leaving without her.” The world seemed to stop moving. The air stilled. Even the ocean didn’t roll.

“She gave this to me.” I held up my wrist. “And she helped me build the boat.” I looked over Garvey’s shoulder, a brief glimpse of us working together to create something. “And I danced.” I stepped toward him.

“I danced. And she danced with me. She taught me, and I learned about a mouse.”

“A mouse?” Colton snickered as Garvey continued to stare.

“She…she loves me,” I said softer, directly to Garvey, begging him to hear me.

Instead, he reached for the edge of my trunk once again, ignoring my outburst. Without another thought, I turned and ran. I sprinted through the bush, leaping over fallen branches, racing for the tree house. My heart thumped as my chest filled with air and fear. I pressed harder, moved faster, crossing the line to the space surrounding her tree.

Nothing remained as it had been.

The tree house was in two pieces. One-half still clung to the tree, open and exposed to the elements. Long vines and thick branches dangled before it. The other half had crashed to the ground, crushed into a pile prepared for a bonfire. More vines draped over it and a fallen tree pressed it further into the damp jungle floor. I stopped and stared, my chest rising and falling with exertion, and something more. Something deeper that pierced and pinched and rolled my stomach.

“Juliet,” I said softly, afraid I’d wake the sleeping tree and the fallen house.

“Mouse,” I choked louder just as Colton burst through the brush behind me. He came to stand next to me, his breaths coming heavy, his hands holding his sides. I didn’t move my eyes from the tree house.

“She’s not here,” he said softly, almost kindly, as if he understood.

“She was,” I said quietly, while he stared at the wreck before us. “She was,” I said louder, my heart leaping up to my throat as I took in the broken structure.

“The storm,” I muttered.

“This damage is older than a storm, my friend.” His voice was gentle, but the tenderness pissed me off.

“She was here,” I insisted, turning to face him. I reached for his shirt and tugged him toward me. “She was here,” I growled.

“I know you want to believe it,” he said calmly. “I know,” he emphasized.

“You know nothing,” I yelled in his face, holding him against me.

“I know that you hurt her, and you’re sorry. You want it to be okay, but it can never be. She wasn’t here, man. I know you want her to be here. You want to make it right, but you can’t. She wasn’t here.” His voice lowered, and I released him with a shove.

“Shut up,” I said through clenched teeth. “Shut the fuck up.” She left, I told myself. She went with Lillian. Conflicting thoughts rolled through my head. Excuses. Explanations. She was safe, I argued. Please let her be safe, I prayed.