32
The Island Tastes Your Loss
Juliet Montmore had nothing. While it had all been stripped away in one fateful night, it had been restored by another. He had given her everything for the briefest of moments. And then he was gone.
She stared at the departing island, knowing high above the shore there was a cave, and a storm, and a man. While she once thought this island meant freedom, she now felt more confined than ever—and betrayed. But she had no one to blame. She’d committed a crime after an act done to her. She’d put herself in the position to go to the island.
Experiment, she thought. She allowed herself to be part of the scientific process, and she felt played when she swore she’d never be taken advantage of again. She closed her eyes to the bite of the ocean spray, the salty air mixing with the struggling tears
Repent. The word drifted through her head. Without him, she wouldn’t have been on this island. Without him, she wouldn’t have found herself again. She offered forgiveness in exchange for love. She’d given him all of her. He took what he intended before they knew one another and then she gave it to him willingly. Because he asked. He wanted permission and she agreed—love him and be free.
You make me wild, he said, when all she wanted was to be cared for, cared about. She wanted to be claimed.
Restore, the liaison had said, but she’d never felt so broken. The further they sped from the island, the heavier her heart weighed in her chest. While she promised not to look back, she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want regrets. She wanted Tack. But she sensed he wasn’t coming back, and he wasn’t following her.
Her nose ran, and she reached for her satchel. Blindly, she stuck her hand in the bag and pulled out something unexpected. She pulled the book to her chest and turned back toward the island.
You are going to cry, the little prince said, or something like that, she recalled as her thumb stroked the back of the book. The little prince wondered how taming the fox had been for any good if the fox was going to cry when they departed. Slowly, she smiled with the thought. She knew their time on the island would come to an end at some point. It was sooner than expected, but she had gotten what she came for.
Through the tears, she smiled. Being tamed by him had done her all the good.
+ +
Terence Jackson Corbin IV understood right from wrong. He’d been doing wrong his whole life until he finally got it right. And then she got away. While he thought he wanted reckless and meaningless and bad, he’d learned that good and meaningful and fearless had been better. He’d been afraid, that’s what he learned—afraid to love. Mainly because he didn’t know how. Everything in his life had come easily to him, but love had not.
He might have lost his chance, had he not come to the island, and as the salty air whipped at his face and the sorrow filled his lungs, he realized the island had been what he was missing in life. And now, he was missing her. She’d disappeared.
He thought of her as she stood in that pond, staring up at him, vulnerable, frightened, but determined to stand her ground. A mouse. His mouse. He’d learned from the animal like Garvey had encouraged. He’d given to her what he wanted in return. He cared for her, cared about her—he loved her. And she was gone.
He stood with his knees pressed to the board at the stern of the boat. His hands in his pockets, he glanced down at his arm. There, resting on his left wrist, was the only evidence that she existed. He pulled his hand from the pocket and with his other hand he tugged at the bracelet. His frustration built, and he recognized the anger under his skin. How could she leave him? he thought as he struggled to remove the leaf-made jewelry. He planned to throw it in the ocean like some damn movie. Take back your gift, he cursed, but his eyes rose to the island, shaped like the curve of a woman jutting up from the water.
How had he not seen it before? She was the island. She was his island, and he knew he could not exist until he found her again. While his time on the land might be over, his redemption was not complete. He had her forgiveness. He had her love. But he needed her to make his circle complete.
One year, they had said, but an expiration could not be placed on what he discovered. With each mile he sped away from the island, the old Tack slowly returned. Powerful. Determined. Cunning. That’s what he’d learned from her. He would have her.
I will find you, she’d said as parting words to him.
Don’t worry, Mouse, he thought. I will be looking for you.
The story continues –
October 13