Page 14 of Return to the Island

Miller was better at pitches, anyway. Donation solicitation was his expertise. He understood the business end and our financial needs better than me. He could sell snow to an Eskimo and have him pay double for it. My comfort level rested in the creative aspect, as the idea person, and I wandered aimlessly through the market stalls, handling jewelry for texture and material. I admired other wares, like reed baskets and woven trunks, but for now we wanted to stick to the personal accessories. The Mouse Trap items were intended to accessorize with natural materials of grass, leaves and stone, instead of precious metals like gold and silver.

As I wandered, so did my thoughts to Tack’s aggressive behavior the night before. It was so unlike him, and yet, I didn’t know him anymore. In fact, I’d known him for less than three months. Maybe who he was on the island was false. Maybe those kisses hadn’t been real. Maybe our time together had been faked. My heart ached with the thought.

I decided to walk up the sloping hill to our resort and stared at the water in the distance as I climbed. I didn’t want to believe that Tack played another man on our island, but I didn’t know true from false. I’d thought Lillian was my friend, my mentor, my advisor—and all I’d been to her was a lab rat. When I didn’t give her what she wanted, when I refused to admit the truth of Tack’s existence and our relationship, she no longer supported me. Her damning article of my dissertation nearly destroyed me, but I no longer cared about the degree. I wanted to help other women earn money and find the means to be better educated. I didn’t want others to end up like me. I’d worked hard, but it hadn’t been easy. I could have used a helping hand along the way. I thought Lillian was that for me. The only fortunate event from her experiment was the fifty thousand dollars awarded me for lost income. I’d known nothing about a monetary reward, but I took the money and invested in my company. The restoration council enforced the remainder of the year-long sentence through probation. I didn’t miss a meeting.

I didn’t understand how Tack couldn’t see that I would never have betrayed him. I didn’t want to give out his name or reveal his presence on the island with me. In many ways, it was because I held that time sacred. While I hadn’t committed perjury in my dissertation, I hadn’t been one hundred percent honest. Seeing him had been a vision quest. He molded to what I needed, and I learned from him. I found strength through him, and I thought I found love. I earned forgiveness and gave it. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. I loved him. I couldn’t change those feelings.

When I returned to my room, I quickly changed into a bathing suit and went down to the beach. I didn’t want to be around the resort, wondering where Tack was, trying to avoid him. It was easier to go down to the water, but sitting near the clear sea, staring out at that turquoise blue color, brought a wave of memory. The images crashed and collided as I sat on my towel, sifting the sand through my hand as if I could dig to another land. I wanted to excavate my way back to a different time.

Miller texted me and said the pitch went well. Tack hadn’t asked about me.

I didn’t ask if he did, I replied.

But you wanted to know, he typed.

I fell back on my towel. I didn’t want to think of Tack but he consumed me, just like he did on the island. Restless, I sat up again and stared out at the sea. I noticed people parting the way several feet out, and I sat forward, expecting someone to yell shark, which wasn’t common in the bays around the islands. It could have been a sea turtle, and I waited with anticipation like those around me.

Suddenly a man broke the surface, snorkel gear secure around his head. He removed the snorkel and the mask, tipping his head in a manner to swipe away the access water in his hair. It was a scene I’d viewed before—Tack exiting a bay. I stared at his physique. We’d swum together in water this pure. We talked on a beach this brilliant white. We laid on the sand under the stars. And all of it was gone. My lips pursed with distant fond memories as I watched him slowly break the water while he walked back to shore. His stature was imposing, his steps assured. He was a confident man who appeared without a care in the world, but intensity rested on his shoulders. I couldn’t look away.

Then a swatch of blonde ran for the edge of the water and leaped for him just as he hit the beach. Staggering back, he caught her in his arms as her legs kicked up from her body. He set her back on her feet, and she continued to hold him around the waist as they walked up the sand. They were a beautiful couple.

A few others, he’d said. No one important.

She definitely seemed important. She had an ease with touching him, something I’d always been hesitant about. When I wasn’t trying to force him to sleep with me, I was scared to be tender. I feared his rejection. I could recall less than five times that I initiated touches or kisses, the last time being one of them.

I’ll find you, I promised after I kissed him, but I’d been whisked away.

I watched the golden couple saunter up the beach and pulled my eyes away when my heart pinched, signaling it could take no more.