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“No, Doralee…fuck, no, please…” By the time I hit the back terrace, I’m too late.
The engine from the powerboat I docked when I came back revs and I see the lights heading out to sea. It’s more than ten miles to the next island and she won’t make it without gas.
“Fuck.”
I dig my phone from my pocket and hit the last number on my recent calls.
“Captain Baker here, Mr. Lassiter. What can I do for you? We’ll be heading your way in about forty-five minutes, as planned.”
“Change of plans. I need you to head this way, at top speed, right fucking now.”
“Yes, sir. It will take us about thirty minutes to get there if we push the engines—”
“Push them. As hard as you fucking can. I need you here right now. I’ll be waiting at the dock, don’t tie off, just throw down a ladder, I’ll jump on.”
“Sir, is everything okay?”
“Just get here.” I click off as the last flicker of the lights from the boat carrying my entire world disappears out into the ocean.
Chapter Twelve
Doralee
“NO, NO, nononono….”
My eyes burn as I turn the key over and over, but the engine sputters then stops.
The waves are lapping up over the sides of the boat and the wind has turned it sideways on the black water.
The lights are still on, thank god, and as I spin around, I can still see the lights of the Damon’s island in the distance. I was so angry, I just wanted to get away. I thought there was enough light left that I could head in the direction of the big island and get there, but the sun set so fast, then the boat started to sputter, and too late I noticed the red light on the gas gauge indicating the source of the problem.
What started as one of the best days of my life has turned into one of the worst and my heart feels like it’s imploding, taking every warm feeling from me and turning it all to ash.
I drop my head to the cool metal of the steering wheel as I think of the faces of my two babies. Their squished-up noses, their tongues that never seem to quite fit in their mouths. I can smell them. Feel the softness of their ears. Hear the way they would snore next to me when they took over the pillow, one on each side. I wonder what their last moments were like. If they wondered why I’d abandoned them. If it was quick, if whoever took them from me was kind or if they were scared and fighting for their lives.
The sobs take me completely. My head pounds and emptiness guts me from my toes to my skull.
Why did Damon not tell me the truth?
If he did, would I have gone with him? Trusted him?
I don’t know. Probably not. Every direction my mind tries to go to find a way out, it’s a dead end.
A maze with no way out except more sadness.
I cry until I have no more tears, but the gut wrenching sobs don’t stop.
I’m numb. My ears are buzzing. I’m also feeling cold and the boat is rocking wildly, the waves breaking complexly over the sides, drenching me as I drift, carried to wherever the ocean cares to take me.
Shivering, I crawl to the steps down into the interior cabin, hoping to find a blanket or something, and as I descend, I spot the radio.
I lurch forward, flipping on the switch and the static tells me it’s on.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”
I switch from one channel to the next, repeating myself, but all I get in return is silence or more static.
The boat lists hard and I fall against the wall, screaming as my hands dart out, grasping at the instruments, trying to find something to hold onto when I look up and see the red button on the wall above the first aid kit.
Emergency Beacon GPS Locator – Push and Hold for Thirty Seconds to Send Distress Signal
I slam my hand down, the button clicks, and I count to thirty. When I hear it beep, and the button starts to pulse with red light, I let go and my heart speeds as I grab a blanket and make my way back to the seat on the upper deck, the wind whipping my wet hair into my face together with salt spray that makes my skin sticky and dry.
The moon is high, full, and I think of all the people that are standing right now in Times Square, waiting for the ball to drop.
Waiting to see what the new year brings.
I have no idea what will wait for me when I get back to New York, or Paris, but I do know one thing. Somehow, someway, I will make my own way. I will never be under someone else’s thumb again.
