30
Day 69 – Tack
I waited until I could no longer see her and then I turned for my camp. I didn’t expect much to remain. If the waves crashed the land like I anticipated, there was a high possibility most of my things washed away. I trudged over the wrecked land of crushed small trees and snapped trunks perched against others for support. I neared the pond and took a moment to pause, admiring how it seemed unscathed. The waterfall still fell, although the pond looked fuller. The water was clear of color and a vision of Juliet on that first day I saw her came to my mind. An ache in my chest pressed me forward.
I cleared the low brush near the shore, and to my surprise, I found Colton staring at the water and Garvey pacing the sand. The ocean still collided on the beach, but the waves were gentler than the days before. The speed boat that brought me here rocked where it was anchored.
Garvey sighed as he spun in his pacing and froze when he saw me. “Thank God,” he barked. Colton looked up from his spot, kicking the sand at his feet.
“How are my things?” I asked, walking toward my trunks.
“How are you?” Colton asked, a strange sound of relief in his question.
“I’m fine,” I said, too calm, too easily. The two men glanced at one another and looked back at me.
“You just survived a hurricane,” Colton stated as if I didn’t know the depth of severity that storm brought to the island. I shrugged as I walked forward. Only two trunks remained tied to trees. I spun slowly, taking in the beach as if I expected the other trunks to magically appear or be found somewhere among the rocks lining the bay.
“The Vixen,” I sighed, noticing immediately that my craft was gone. I should have known better. Although I tried to tie it to a tree, made of simple bark and saplings, the wind alone might have ripped it from its holding.
“The what?” Colton asked.
“My boat,” I answered, a touch of sadness that my hard work and the work shared with Juliet had been washed out to sea.
“You guys are early,” I added, attempting to change the subject as I stood before one trunk, unsnapping the locks, ready to assess the internal damage. The lid was only partially raised when Garvey spoke.
“We’re here to remove you.”
“What?” The lid released from my hold and fell with a snap against the case. I spun to face them. “My time isn’t finished.” Panic filled my voice. Juliet raced through my mind.
“There’s another hurricane coming within a day or two. Now is our window to get you back to a bigger island, possibly to the mainland.”
“But I don’t want to go,” I said, stepping forward. This caused Colton to glance at his father again.
“Why not?” the elder asked.
“I’m not ready,” I said, lowering my tone. “I didn’t finish my sentence.”
“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.
“I didn’t dream her,” I said, assuring both myself and Colton.
“You did. She was beautiful, right? She was perfect, yeah? She forgave you.” His voice thickened. I turned to face him.
“What do you know?” I hissed. She loves me, I screamed in my head.
“She loved you,” he repeated as if he heard my thoughts. “But it wasn’t real.”
“Stop it,” I yelled, covering my ears like a child.
“I know what you’re feeling. I’ve been here before.” He nodded in the direction of the fallen haven. “I wanted to believe it, too. But it wasn’t real. She was already gone. She couldn’t have been here.” His voice drifted off as if in a memory, and I stared at him, mouth falling open.
“What happened?” I whispered.
“I did something that could never be repaired. Not with her. Coming here gave me focus—clarity and perspective—but I could never be fully restored. I couldn’t bring her back.” He sucked in air on the words and closed his eyes. He was silent a second, and I turned back to the pile of rubble. My eyes searched, but I found nothing. No hint that she’d been here. No scrap of clothing. No bedding or mosquito netting. I could explain it all in my head. The storm damage. The gale force wind. The heavy rain, but nothing remained. I walked up to the tree.
“You want to believe she was real, and so she was.” Colton paused behind me. “But only to you.”
My hand fell heavily on the thick trunk and my head came forward. I didn’t dream her, I told myself. I couldn’t have. She was real. I felt her. I looked down at my hand, the hand that cupped her jaw and touched her body. The hand that held her to my chest and led her in a dance. The hand that covered hers as she stroked me and fingered her as I filled her. She was real.
I thought I heard my name, a shriek in the wind, but when I turned to Colton for confirmation he heard it, his expression hinted at nothing, and I dismissed the sound as the screech of a returning seagull. I felt for the small knife in my cargo short pocket and pulled it out. J M, I etched into the soft trunk of the tree and then added my initials under them. J.M. + T.C. She ruled over me. It was juvenile and crush-worthy, but it signified I’d been there. And so had she.