Island Redemption

by Suzanne Cass

  ‘Yes, I’ve always wanted to move there. All that warm weather and beaches and young boys to ogle.’

  ‘Barbara Parsons!’ Cilla said in mock dismay.

  ‘And you could get a job there, working on one of those cruising boats, couldn’t you?’

  ‘You really have thought of everything, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, dear, I have.’ A little self-satisfied smile had settled on her grandmother’s lips.

  So it was decided. They were moving to Miami.

  Cilla would stay with her grandmother now. There was no way her grandmother could support herself financially alone. Cilla owed her that much. Besides, her boat had already been repossessed.

  Her beautiful boat. Her freedom.

  Brad had broken the awful news as soon as she’d phoned him to tell him she was back from the island.

  ‘Oh no, Cilla, I have something dreadful to tell you,’ he’d groaned over the phone. ‘Your ketch, your precious ketch.’ Even though she was thousands of miles away, she could picture Brad, standing in his messy office, Chicago Bulls cap on backwards, rubbing his hand over his face, knocking off his hat and mussing his hair. He always did that when he was anxious.

  So, it was gone. She hadn’t even been given one last chance to run her hands over the smooth wooden deck, or to winch the ropes in tight so she could feel the power of the thrumming sails as they hummed with the wind at their back.

  ‘You don’t need to say anymore, Brad. I can guess what happened.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Cilla. I tried to stop them taking it, I really did.’

  ‘It’s okay, there would’ve been nothing you could’ve done anyway, but thanks for looking out for me, Brad.’ Then she’d steered the conversation to her time on the island, distracting him with all the titbits of information she knew he’d love to hear. Even though Brad knew she’d been sworn to secrecy he did ask if she’d tell him who’d made it to the final three.

  ‘You know I can’t tell you that. You’ll just have to watch the show like all the rest of the Sea-Quest fans.’ She’d rung off the phone conversation promising Brad she’d fly to the Whitsundays to see him as soon as she was able.

  But the conversation had rattled her in more ways than one. The show was due to start in less than a week, and would run its course so that it coincided with the big finale when they all came back together in the studio in Hollywood in a month or so. Cilla didn’t even want to think about that. It meant she’d have to come face to face with Tam one last time.

  One thing Cilla made sure Brad didn’t know, was how she’d managed to let herself fall in love with one of the other contestants. She’d barely come to terms with it herself. How would they portray her relationship with Tam on the show?

  It was the question which had kept her awake almost every night for the past three weeks. The reality show’s editing team probably watched her and Tam’s fight on the beach and rubbed their hands with glee. It’d be a great turning point in the game, a juicy bit of real-life drama so they could market their show.

  Cilla stopped stirring the soup, staring off into space. For the hundredth time she wished she’d played it out differently, wished she hadn’t been so naive as to air her dirty laundry on national television. But they’d all become so accustomed to the television crews by the end, as if they were part of the scenery, they’d say anything, act completely naturally in front of them. Playing straight into the director’s hands. It was what the crew lived for after all; to capture those moments of complete abandon, where people let their true feelings show.

  Dropping the spoon into the soup, Cilla let out a frustrated groan.

  ‘Are you okay, dear?’ Barbara’s watchful stare caught her from across the room. What was her grandmother going to think of all this? There was no way Cilla was going to be able to persuade her not to watch the show. She cringed at the thought.

  ‘Yep, fine, Grandma,’ she said, keeping her voice light. ‘I’m just going to freshen up a little before dinner. Okay?’ Cilla headed towards her bedroom. Shutting the door, she flopped onto the bed and covered her face with her hands. She was starting to regret ever going on this bloody show.

  The hardest part was going to be watching Tam on that screen. To see his face again, to be able to stare into those honey coloured eyes and not be able to touch him. Watch him be gentle and kind to her. Watch that tenderness dissolve and his face crumble as she screamed at him, destroying his faith and trust in her, pushing him away, forever. And then to try and pretend to everyone it meant nothing. It was just a holiday fling, her way of cementing an alliance to get her further in the game.

  If only he were lying next to her right now, his body cradling hers, his warm heart beating under her cheek. He’d tell her it’d all be okay.

  If only it were true.

  She missed him terribly. Missed the look in his eyes when she’d turn unexpectedly and find him staring at her; hunger and yearning, tinged with an empathy she hadn’t understood at the time. Missed the knowledge that in an unspoken pact, he had her back, even if she never needed his protection. Missed his honesty and integrity and the way he demanded the same back from her. He wouldn’t have betrayed her in anger. Not the way she’d done to him.

  She’d made an abysmal mess of the whole thing. Not only had she not won the money, but she’d screwed up something that should’ve been precious to her, thrown it away in pursuit of her own greed. It’d been easy to justify her actions by saying she needed the money to save her grandmother, but she knew that was false. Her grandmother was fine, they’d survive, carve out another life for themselves. Deep down she’d probably always known they’d be okay.

  What’d Tam be doing right now? LA was two hours behind Buffalo, he was probably just leaving work. Perhaps saying goodbye to the latest group of kids under his care, giving them a carefree wave, long legs striding down the pathway, head held high, looking everyone in the eye as he passed with his direct, unflinching gaze.

  God, how she ached for him.

  ~

  The traffic light turned red and Tam smothered a curse. The line of cars hadn’t moved in the last five minutes. He was officially stuck in a traffic jam. He should’ve taken the Santa-Ana freeway, but he’d let the urgent need for a coffee see him stop off at the Ember Cafe on his way out of work, and now he was well and truly stuck on Lincoln Avenue.

  He texted his mother to let her know he’d be late for dinner, then sat sipping his coffee thoughtfully. At least the traffic jam gave him time to drink his coffee in peace. He rubbed his neck, trying to ease out the kinks that’d worked their way in there. Today had been stressful and the coffee was a much needed boost to his flagging spirits. It also lent him fortification for the upcoming dinner with his parents. They probably weren’t going to like the news he had to tell them tonight.

  Coffee still tasted extraordinarily good to him, even now, three weeks after he’d left the island. Actually, everything tasted good. After having been deprived of anything but plain rice, beans and fish for thirty-nine days, he now had a healthy regard of all things he’d once taken for granted.

  His thoughts turned to the contemplation of the upcoming Sea-Quest finale and how his attitude towards the outcome had changed. It was still over a month away, but he no longer dreaded the conclusion and he was no longer distracted by the urgent need to be the one to dig up the chest. Now he looked forward to the night because he’d see Cilla again.

  His whole outlook on the million dollars had changed. That night at the resort, straight after the final conclave had been the beginning of his change of heart. But it’d been the talk with his mother a few days after returning from the island which had really cemented his feelings on the subject. His mind drifted back to their discussion a couple of weeks ago.

  ‘Why on earth would you think that, Tam?’ His mother’s eyes, a shade or two darker than his own, had widened in surprise. ‘Of course we’d never think any less of you if you didn’t win the money from that show.’ Sitting
at the small kitchen table, Tam had avoided his mum’s gaze by tucking into the plate of pancakes she’d made him, aiming to fatten him up after his ordeal on the island. He wasn’t allowed to tell them how the show had ended, it was all top secret. He’d signed contracts to make sure he kept his mouth shut, but he was still trying to winkle out how his family would react to the idea of him winning. Or not. Casting a sideways glance at his mum, he took in her fading blonde hair tied back in a bun, face devoid of make-up, her trim figure swathed with an apron. She looked like she hadn’t aged a day, at least not to him.

  ‘You have to admit, the money would be a help though, Mum.’

  ‘Please tell me you didn’t enter that castaway show just to help me and your dad? We’re happy here, fine just the way we are, darling.’ She stopped bustling around the kitchen long enough to throw a tea-towel at him. ‘I’m not sure, even if you did win, that we’d take one red cent from you.’

  ‘No, of course I didn’t enter just for you.’ Well that was almost the truth. He’d done it as much for the kids clinic as for himself and his family. But things had changed for him since that last, fateful night on Ko Mae Ko. He was starting to realise he wanted something much more precious than the money. A pair of emerald green eyes, for instance.

  His mother didn’t notice his distraction and went on talking, strangely enough, sounding as if she’d just read his mind. ‘Money isn’t worth a spit if you don’t have someone to share it with. Family is what makes a man, Tam, not riches. If you’ve never known that feeling of coming home to the refuge of someone who adores you at the end of the day, the joy of holding your own little baby in your arms for the first time, or the satisfaction of watching your kids grow into gorgeous, good men, then you would’ve missed out on so much. Money will never buy you that.’

  He stopped eating and stared. He’d never heard his mother talk like this before. It was both refreshing and daunting. She’d always been one to keep her feelings low-key. Serious and capable, she’d busied herself around his father and the family. But now, when he thought about it, her actions had always been carried out with great affection. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to see past his own sense of teenage dissatisfaction at the way they’d struggled, never having enough, to the core of the love that kept his family going.

  Yes, he’d suffered through poverty in his early adolescence, and yes he’d taken to crime as his way of helping out the family. But if he was completely honest with himself, a lot of his ill-gotten gains had been directed straight into his own pocket. Money to buy those Nike shoes he’d coveted or that packet of cigarettes so he’d look cool at school. Maybe, through his own selfishness, he’d missed the fact it wasn’t the materialistic things which held his family together after all.

  Sitting down at the table with him, she said with a sigh, ‘I know we did it hard when you were younger, after your father got hurt, and I’m truly sorry you were deprived of so many things.’

  He started to dispute her words, but she waved him to silence with the tea-towel.

  ‘I hope you know your dad and I still love each other, even after all these years and I never resented him for what happened to us. It wasn’t his fault. It’s no obligation to take care of someone you love. I thought we’d brought you up to understand how much we cared for you and your brothers.’

  ‘You did, Mum. You did.’ And he could see it now. Money wouldn’t save him.

  His mum might’ve helped him see the error of his ways, but she still wasn’t going to like what he had to say tonight. How’d they take the fact he was thinking about moving away from LA? Would they understand?

  ~

  Cilla stood at the bow of the boat watching the jetty slide closer. Holding a plastic boat fender in each hand she judged the timing perfectly, swinging them down into place just before the yacht bumped gently up against the wooden pylon. Crystal, one of the other MiamiZ Boat Charter employees waiting on the jetty, grabbed the railing, caught the rope Cilla threw to her and tied the front end of the yacht off to the bollard. Cilla made her way quickly down to the stern and dropped another two fenders over the side to protect the rear end of the boat and helped Crystal tie off that end as well. Between the two of them they manoeuvred a small gangplank into place for the passengers to disembark.

  ‘See ya, Cilla. Thanks for the great day,’ Christina yelled as she tripped lightly over the gangplank. She’d been the youngest daughter in the family they’d taken out today, and the most entertaining of the bunch.

  ‘Here, let me give you a hand.’ Cilla rushed forward to help the mother disembark. She was more unsteady on her feet than her daughter, especially after those few glasses of wine, and Cilla made sure she had a strong grip on the lady’s arm as she helped her over, passing her off into Crystal’s capable hands on the other side.

  This family was a nice change from some of the other passengers she’d crewed for in the past three weeks. They were friendly and talkative, and treated Cilla as an equal, asking her questions and joking around as if she were a long-lost friend. Their day trip around the Florida Keys had been a happy, fun-filled time.

  ‘Thank you, Cilla. It’s been a very pleasant day. We’ll be back here soon, I’m sure,’ a deep male voice said from behind, and she turned around and beamed her best professional smile.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Malooney. We’re very glad to have you on board.’

  ‘I’m in love with this boat, I have to say. Maybe I’ll buy myself one, one of these days.’ He patted the side of the cabin and gave the yacht a last admiring glance before heading off over the gangplank.

  Cilla didn’t really agree with him, but she could see the allure this boat might have for many. It was a sleek and luxurious eighty-one foot Firretti yacht called The Cat’s Whiskers. It had a large entertainment deck with a second story fly-bridge above it, where people could sit in complete extravagance on leather lounges and sip champagne and eat oysters with the wind whipping through their hair.

  Give her an old wooden sailboat with plenty of character and stories hidden in the planks any day.

  But she was lucky to have this job, and she wouldn’t begrudge it one little bit. This was a good crew, young and full of energy and a love for what they were doing. Brad had written her a glowing recommendation as soon as he heard she was moving to Miami, making her a shoe-in with his mate who owned the luxury charter company.

  ‘What a great day!’ The captain, Doug’s, loud bellow brought her back from her musings. ‘I wish we had more jobs like that one. Hey, Cilla?’ He gave her a wink and a pat on the shoulder as he passed. ‘I’ll lock up the helm, are you right to tidy up the rest?’

  ‘Will do,’ she said, giving him a mock salute on her way into the lounge area. Piling the empty glasses and plates onto a tray she took them into the galley to wash. There wasn’t much to do, really. Today hadn’t included any wild parties or drinking orgies, only a quiet family get-together.

  She heard Doug clatter over the gangplank and knew she was alone on the boat. Leaving the dishes to drain on the sink, she made her way forward to sit in the bow. The boat was docked in Sunset Harbour, one of the ritziest harbours in one of the ritziest areas of Miami. She could see the high rises of South Beach peeking over the rooftops of the houses in the art-deco district. The playground for the rich and famous. A lifestyle she could never hope to join, and didn’t really want to. She and Barbara were happy in their little three-bedroom place in Cutler Bay.

  Her grandmother seemed to have taken to living in Miami like a duck to water. She’d already met quite a few of their neighbours and even joined a walking club, and had started doing a jazz dancing class one night a week down at the local Senior Citizens Club with Mabel from next door. It almost put Cilla’s social life to shame. Apart from going to work and back every day, Cilla hardly left the house.

  Staring at the skyline without really seeing it, Cilla let the cool of the encroaching dusk enfold her. The air still dripped with humidity, as it always did here in summer, but
her body was quickly acclimatising, especially after her month spent on the island in Thailand. Greeting-card clouds floated like white fuzzy bunnies out over The Bay, slowly turning salmon pink as the sun disappeared. The sound of waves lapping along the yacht’s water-line drifted up to where she sat. She loved sitting here at the end of the day. It was peaceful, her calm little bubble in the midst of a madly-rushing humanity.

  Tomorrow was the Sea-Quest finale. She was heading out on a plane in the morning for Hollywood. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

  ‘Hey, Cilla, is that you?’ a familiar voice floated to her over the water. Casting her gaze out to the back of the boat, she tried to pinpoint the direction of the hail.

  And there was her ketch, Halcyon, sailing up The Bay, with Brad at the tiller.

  ‘Brad! What … How?’ She was lost for words.

  ‘I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find you, but Doug’s directions were pretty good. Where can I moor this great hulk of a boat?’

  ‘How … Who?’ She was still trying to get her mind around what she was seeing.

  ‘Stop stuttering girl and point me to somewhere I can tie this thing up.’

  ‘Take it over there.’ Cilla pointed to another pier tucked around the side of the main marina. ‘They have a few berths set aside for visitors. I’ll meet you round there.’

  Quickly stowing the gangplank away, she locked up the main cabin and leapt over the side onto the jetty. The wooden planks rattled beneath her feet as she zigzagged her way through the maze of docks to the far side of the harbour.

  Arriving out of breath she was just in time to help guide Brad and her boat into an empty berth. Tying off the bow rope to a bollard, she couldn’t help herself, she had to run her hand over the wooden bowsprit, just to make sure it was real. Her boat was here. Her beautiful boat. The white hull gleamed in the soft dusk light, set off by the dark green stripe around the top and the timber finish on the decking. Cilla knew right then that Halcyon was the prettiest boat she’d ever seen. Just looking at her ketch made her soul lift like it hadn’t done in months. She hadn’t really known how much this boat meant to her until right this very second.