The Next Adventure

by Janice Horton

  When I’m upset, however, I need to talk it through. I need to micro-thrash the details.

  So as we hurtled back towards Tortola at breakneck speed in our speedboat, I wanted to know how and why these people were drilling holes in Waterfall Cay – when it was supposed to be our island and our new home – and why, out of nowhere, it turns out that Ethan has a brother called Damion and a sister in law called Gloria.

  But, when I voice my concerns and my confusion to him, I get the silent treatment.

  Once we are back on Tortola, however, it appears we are on speaking terms again.

  He tells me he’s taking a flight over to Grand Cayman to talk with his lawyers.

  I point out that it’s already late in the afternoon. He assures me it can’t wait.

  I say I’m going with him. The next thing I know we’re in a car heading to the airport.

  I broach the subject again. It’s killing me that he’s lied to me. I need to know why.

  My heart is so heavy right now that it hurts and I’m drowning in my own disappointment.

  I’ve been the victim of lies once before and I’d promised myself never again.

  My ex-husband lied to me and so did my best friend. It was cruel and soul destroying.

  But Ethan? My strong, unshakable, dependable, rock? Well, that is truly heartbreaking.

  Now, I look at him and I can’t help but to wonder what else I don’t know about him?

  How many other secrets he might be hiding and keeping from me?

  What other aspects about himself he might currently deny but eventually admit?

  Ethan is slumped in his seat, his hand rubbing his forehead, as if he’s easing a pain.

  ‘I didn’t lie to you, Lori. He’s just no longer my brother. Hasn’t been for a long time.’

  ‘But he’s your sibling.’ I argued. ‘Just because you disowned each other doesn’t mean you’re no longer related. It’s not like divorcing Marielle. Your brother is family. He’s blood!’

  ‘Lori, forgive me, but this is not the time. I have to find out what happened with the lease.’

  I bite my tongue and steel myself to stay silent. Not easy when I have so many questions.

  And then, of course, there’s the elephant between us.

  His marriage proposal is still hanging in the air.

  At the airport, Ethan quickly charters a private jet. It takes us two hours to fly over to George Town on Grand Cayman. On the plane, in my big comfortable seat opposite Ethan, I sip a glass of champagne that was spontaneously offered to us after take-off. Only, it tastes sour in my mouth. Ethan didn’t even touch his. He just stared out of the small oval window, frowning.

  At the lawyer’s office, I prefer to sit in the reception area listening to the heated exchange going on at the other side of a closed door. I check my phone. It’s 6pm here and so that means 11pm in the UK. It’s now too late to call my mum or my boys.

  I decided to call Josh anyway and to leave another message.

  When Ethan comes out of the lawyer’s office his face is red with rage.

  ‘Come on, Lori. Let’s get out of here. I need a drink.’

  We walked two blocks and into a bar. I order a glass of wine.

  Ethan orders straight bourbon. A double.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?’ I asked him tentatively.

  He threw back his bourbon and swallowed it. ‘We lost it.’

  I’m starting to feel sorry for him now. My heart softens. My anger dissipates.

  I actually consider wrapping my arms around him to offer him some comfort because if Ethan’s drinking doubles then he’s having the worst day ever. And I’ve seen Ethan having bad days. Like the time we just happen to lose an underwater (thankfully unmanned) research drone that was apparently worth over a million US dollars. I consider his words for a moment.

  ‘How? I don’t understand. How did you lose an island?’

  ‘He got to the lease before us. His plan is to build a luxury hotel resort on the island.’

  I shrug. ‘This isn’t like you, Ethan. If he got there first, then why all the resentment?’

  Ethan was usually so philosophical about everything. I’ve never seen him harbour any hard feelings towards anyone. The need for justice, yes, absolutely. But, when faced with an unfairness, he’s normally the first person to say, ‘whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye’ which in Scottish, is the same as ‘what is meant for you by fate won’t pass you by.’

  Obviously, he felt very differently regarding this particular situation.

  ‘Because he played dirty. I can’t believe he actually pretended to be me to get hold of that lease and then he took it for himself. He cheated us out of that island. Now do you understand?’

  I nod my head slowly and I feel badly. I remember my ex-husband Charles doing something like that to me. He’d taken out a loan in my name because he’d been refused the credit. I only found out about it when he’d defaulted on the payments. ‘Yes. I think I do.’

  ‘Do you want to go back to Geluk Island for a while, Lori?’

  I nod and offer a little smile and place my hand on his and give it a little squeeze.

  Last January, we’d spent a blissful six weeks together on the island paradise called Geluk.

  The name, pronounced Gluck, means ‘place of happiness’ and indeed we were very happy there. Ethan, or rather his foundation, the GGF, has an oceanic research centre on the Caribbean island. We’d spent our mornings working and diving on the coral reef and our afternoons upstairs in our private quarters making love. In the early evenings, we’d meet up with locals and friends at a beach bar at sundown, to enjoy rum cocktails and grilled seafood and spectacular sunsets. Then, hand in hand and under a sky full of stars, we’d stroll lazily back up the beach to our simple loft room under the swaying palm trees with its bamboo furniture and wooden shuttered windows. It was a perfect way of life. Idyllic, in fact.

  The island, like Ethan, had quickly claimed my heart.

  It was easy for me to imagine that we might have stayed on Geluk Island forever. Ethan had said that he’d once felt the same way about it. The island is situated in a sheltered bay between the Cayman Islands and the coast of Honduras. It’s often described by those who know of it as a well-kept secret – and they’d liken it to a Key West of the 1930’s era; a laid back and sleepy little gem of an island in the eastern Caribbean Sea.

  Until of course that secret got out and the tiny tropical paradise became invaded by tourists.

  On most days, it looked exactly how you might imagine a Caribbean island before any commercial tourism arrived. With just one main street and locally owned shops and businesses and quiet bars and restaurants. A commercial boat came in twice a week with imported supplies and the islanders principally trade in fish and shellfish and are self-sufficient in tropical fruits and coconuts. There are no cars there and there’s no pollution. People get about on bicycles or they simply walked everywhere as nowhere is too far away from anything else on Geluk.

  There’s a real and very special sense of community amongst the population.

  But, being so conveniently close to the Cayman Islands and now part of the new and popular cruise routes, means that half the time there are hordes of people on the island spoiling the ideal and the idyllic. Plus, Ethan is a kind of celebrity. Lots of people know of him and his work. Especially those in the diving community. He’s often recognised in the street and approached by strangers in bars and while simply trying to have a quiet drink and minding his own business.

  He hates all the fuss. Especially if he’s being asked for his autograph.

  So, I guess we’ll just have to move on and find our paradise home somewhere else now.

  Or not. I mean, now that his dream of living on a private island in the BVIs has been taken away from him, I must once again wonder if he will ever want to settle down anywhere else?

  And, is it even in Ethan’s nature to live in one place?

  He’s an
activist. A man of the world. And what about me?

  I must question whether or not I am truly a woman of the world?

  I can’t help but to doubt myself. Yes, I want to travel. Yes, I want to be with Ethan.

  I’m still being torn in two by my wanderlust and my desire for stability.

  But all those ‘wants’ feel so selfish when to claim them for myself means I have to treat my family like they no longer exist. I met a Buddhist monk in a golden temple in Thailand once, and he told me that Buddha says that you should remove the ‘I’ from ‘I want something’ because it is your ego, and you should remove the ‘want’ also because it is your greed. Then you’ll be left with your ‘something.’

  And, as much as I try to reason with myself and apply all that I’ve learned over this past year into my decision making, that angel and devil of good and bad and positive and negative, sit on my shoulders to this very day to constantly whisper into my ears and taunt me.

  And, of the two, I’m never sure which one of them is being entirely truthful.

  I can’t help but to agonise over what it is that I must compromise on?

  Today, with Waterfall Cay, it really seemed like I’d found the answer.

  It seemed, in a moment of hope and glory, that I’d found my compromise.

  But now that option has disappeared as fast as it came and I’m back to the same question.

  How can I possibly choose to love a man over my own family?

  How can I ever allow myself to really trust anyone ever again?

  How can I trust another person when I can’t seem to trust my own instincts anymore?

  When having it all is impossible and so means having to choose?

  Ethan dragged his eyes away from staring at the bottom of his empty bourbon glass to look at me. I really don’t think I’ve ever seen him so dismayed. Not even when together we’d nursed a turtle, who’d been hit by the rudder of a longtail boat in Thailand, and its carapace was cracked open and its right flipper gone and a chunk missing from the edge of its shell.

  ‘Oh Lori, I lost something else today too —’ he confessed miserably. ‘I lost your ring.’

  I didn’t know what to say. It was a beautiful ring. I just hoped it was insured.

  ‘I must have dropped it in the sand. I expect the chances of finding it again will be remote.’

  I looked deeply into his soulful eyes. Those very beautiful but now incredibly sad pools of light and love and emotion. I couldn’t help myself. A great surge of love came crashing over my own fiery feelings and doused them out in a wave of both passion and compassion for him.

  ‘Ethan, losing a ring doesn’t mean you’ve lost my love. I love you. I want to be with you. But, despite what you call the cruise ship invasion, I still think that Geluk Island would be our next best choice as a perfect place for us to build a home together. Then we can have something that resembles a home life between our work projects. I need that stability. I want a door to close when I need to shut out the problems of the world. I want somewhere to rest when I’m feeling tired. I want walls on which to hang my favourite photographs. I’m afraid, I just can’t carry on like this —as a homeless nomad.’

  Ethan shrugged and sighed and sulked and he didn’t look either convinced or happy.

  ‘I suppose I’ve always thought that one day, I’d settle down in the BVIs.’ He confessed. ‘I really wanted that island to be our home, Lori. I really felt we belonged there. Strangely, I’ve never felt that way about anywhere, not even Scotland. But, you’re right. I’ll just have to accept it’s not going to happen and move on. Just give me some time and I promise I’ll find us somewhere else to call home.’ He looked so incredibly sad and disappointed.

  For someone who always seemed ready and prepared and who knew exactly how and when it was time to move on, I’ve never known Ethan to drag his heels, or to be so reluctant before.

  ‘Look —’ I tried to reason with him. ‘If this island is really that important to you, why don’t we go and talk to your brother about it? If he only knew how you feel – how very special this island is to you – then he might be prepared to back off and give it back to us?’

  Ethan vehemently shook his head. ‘No way. Lori, you simply don’t understand who you are dealing with here. Damion will not give up the island. Especially, if he knew how special it was to me. There’s nothing that you or I can do about it. It’s gone.’

  ‘I simply can’t believe that to be true. You are brothers. Surely this can be worked out?’

  Ethan shrugged again but it was more like an acknowledgement of defeat than of acquiesce.

  ‘If it was anyone else but him then I’d be inclined to agree with you,’ he said to me while signalling the bartender for another drink. ‘But Damion and I don’t get on and we never have.’

  ‘Never? Not even when you were small boys together?’ I queried.

  ‘No. Especially when we were kids. We were born ten years apart and it’s like we were born to be complete opposites in every way. We could never agree on anything. Damion would make everything into a competition that he would win no matter the cost or the consequence. If he wants something, then believe me, he will not stop until he has it and he will never give up or ever back down. It won’t work. So why don’t we just forget all about Waterfall Cay?’

  ‘Forget? But you said it was a rare find. You said it was your dream? There has to be another way. There must be something we can do. He is your brother and he must have some redeeming qualities. Surely, it’s time you two agreed on something and made amends?’

  I pondered on my own childhood. I’d been an only child, but I’d always longed for a sister.

  I’d imagined a sister to be a constant and reliable forever friend who would never let you down. I’d brought up my own two boys to be good friends and allies and to support each other.

  ‘Not while he is as stubborn as he is ruthless.’ Ethan noted sourly.

  And just at that moment my phone rang. ‘Oh, I’ll need to take this. It’s Josh.’

  A feeling of something that I can only describe as pure unadulterated dread washed over me in the moment when I saw that it was Josh calling. My stomach turned over because I knew it was well after midnight in the UK. It was the middle of the night. It was so unlike him to call at this time. Unless something was wrong?

  And that’s when I heard the news about my mum and my mind and my body and my whole world went into a freefall of absolute and total panic.

  ‘What? Josh, slow down! What did you just say?’

  I looked to Ethan. ‘My mum has had a heart attack. I need to go home right now!’

  And Ethan did what he always does best. He immediately sprang into action.

  He hailed us a taxi and we headed straight to the airport.

  At the British Airways desk, he wanted to buy two first-class tickets to London, and we argued about it for a while, but I insisted that I needed to go home alone.

  ‘I need time to deal with this myself. My boys don’t know anything about us yet, Ethan. This is absolutely not the right time to tell them. I’ll call you. I’ll speak to them. I promise.’

  Then in my rush to get to my gate and onto the plane that was already boarding, I turned to say goodbye to him, only to realise that I’d already gone through the point of no return.

  And, suddenly, Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 4

  London UK

  It’s early morning in London when I step off my overnight flight and it’s very dark outside. The temperature is reported to be well below zero degrees and everyone else has deplaned wrapped up in coats and scarfs and boots. To my embarrassment, I’m wearing a flimsy summer dress and flip-flops. I have a small backpack with me and no checked luggage because I’ve left the mainstay of my sparse belongings back in the Caribbean.

  I emerge from the green zone of customs into the brightly lit bustle of the arrivals area at Gatwick airport and I’m feeling like an exile after being away for a whole
year. I know I look different. I feel different. I’m also shivering violently from an assault of icy cold air that’s being sucked inside the terminal from the doors leading to the outside world. I’m chilled to the bone.

  Goosebumps are doing a Mexican Wave across my entire body and it feels as if my skin, that just yesterday was warm and brown and supple in the humid tropical air, has suddenly become grey and shrunken and icy in response to the dry air on the plane and now the cold damp atmosphere in the UK. My eyes feel sore and heavy as I look around me in confusion at the faceless crowd. Then, to my relief, I hear a shout from a familiar voice.

  ‘Mum!’ And my heart leaps as if it’s been shocked back to life by a defibrillator.

  Then I’m standing in front of Josh, my darling eldest son, who looks even taller and more handsome than I can ever recall. I throw myself into his arms before noticing he’s with someone; a pretty young woman with big dark eyes and long brown hair.

  ‘Mum, this is Zoey, my fiancée.’

  I embrace Zoey and kiss her cheek and say how pleased I am to meet her.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Anderson. Wow—you are so suntanned!’ said Zoey, who was staring at me as if I’d just arrived from another planet and she’d never seen anyone quite like me before.

  ‘Oh, please, call me Lori.’

  ‘We’ve brought you a warm coat, Mum. We guessed you’d be getting off the plane in summer clothes!’ Josh was now helping me take off my small backpack, so that he could wrap a padded jacket around my shoulders, to save me from freezing to death.

  ‘Oh thank you! I feel so ridiculously underdressed. Oh, that feels lovely and warm!’

  It smelled of a young person’s scent: light and fruity and fresh.

  ‘And thank you, Zoey. I assume this is your coat?’

  ‘Yes, but I have others, so you can keep it for as long as you need.’

  Then I saw her looking down in sympathy at my stone-cold blue-tinged toes.