What Happens in Paradise

by Elin Hilderbrand

  “Turn the car around,” he says to Tilda.

  They head back to Powell Park, where they dropped Maia and Shane off, but of course the kids are gone. Cash calls Maia and gets her voicemail.

  “What do you want to do?” Tilda asks.

  “Loop around, please,” Cash says. He hangs out the window of the Rover scanning the ferry dock, which is packed with workers headed back to St. Thomas. Did Maia and Shane get on the ferry? The thought makes Cash ill. They pass the jewelry store, the timeshare office, Slim Man’s parking lot. Then Tilda has to make a decision—right toward Drink and Gallows Point or left past the Lime Inn and De Coal Pot?

  “Arrrgh, I don’t know,” Cash says. “I should never have let her get out of the car in town. It’s just, I knew she and Shane had hung out in town together before, but now it’s dark and she lied to me, so she must be doing something she doesn’t want Huck to know about.”

  Tilda turns left. They pass the Dog House and the Longboard and Our Market and Cap’s, then Tilda takes a right and says, “Maybe they went for pizza. Let’s check Ronnie’s.”

  Yes, Ronnie’s Pizza, bingo, brilliant, Cash thinks. They’re twelve.

  Tilda pulls up out front and Cash runs in, looks around. No Maia, no Shane.

  “She likes Candi’s Barbecue,” Tilda says. “I remember Rosie telling me that. Let’s swing by and if she’s not there, we’ll call Huck.”

  “I don’t have Huck’s number,” Cash says. “I’ll call my mother if she’s not at Candi’s.”

  Maia is not at Candi’s. Cash climbs back into the Rover and stares at his phone. He calls Maia’s phone again and again, it goes directly to voicemail.

  “She’s ghosting me,” he says.

  Tilda laughs. “Maybe. Or maybe her phone died. Or maybe she turned her phone off because she wants to kiss Shane in peace.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better,” Cash says.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Tilda says. “Okay, let’s think. Do you want me to take you home or run you up to Huck’s?”

  “Home,” Cash says. “The last thing I want to do is face Huck.”

  When Cash and Tilda arrive at the villa, Irene is sitting at the kitchen table, paging through a House Beautiful.

  “Cash,” she says, standing up. “And you must be…”

  “Tilda. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Steele.”

  “Are you kids hungry? I haven’t given a single thought to dinner, though I probably should, it’s getting late—”

  “Mom,” Cash says. He’s not sure why he feels so panicked. Maia has probably already made it home. Shane’s parents probably came and picked them up. But what if they didn’t? Cash should have insisted on taking Maia straight home. She acted like a full-blown teenager but she’s only twelve. Twelve! “We hiked the Esperance Trail with Maia and her friend Shane.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” Irene says.

  “Then she asked us to drop her off in town,” Tilda says.

  “She told us Huck would pick her up,” Cash says. “She told us it wouldn’t be an inconvenience because his charter was running late…”

  “Wait,” Irene says. “What?” Cash watches Irene snap into parenting mode and it’s like being transported back in time fifteen years. “Let me call Huck.” Irene fishes her cell phone out of her bag and dials. Cash can hear her reach Huck’s recording.

  “He’s not answering,” she says. “And I don’t want to leave a message and panic him. Maybe Maia is home and they’re sitting down to dinner.”

  Maybe, Cash thinks. He pictures Huck and Maia at a table, Maia describing the baobab tree.

  Cash needs her to be home, to be safe. He can’t handle losing anyone else.

  Huck

  When he gets out of the shower, he sees Irene has called.

  Prayers answered, he thinks.

  It was bad luck that there had been no charter today—or maybe it was good luck. Huck isn’t sure.

  Huck has done nothing all day but think about kissing Irene. He kissed her on the boat, then he kissed her in his truck, and finally he walked her up the steps to the villa and kissed her next to the sliding glass door. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d get an invitation to come inside, upstairs—but eventually, Irene had put her index finger to his lips and slipped inside alone.

  He understood. It was too soon to go any further. She was newly widowed and so much still remained a mystery.

  But he had hoped.

  If they’d had a charter, would they have gone back to their normal, pre-kiss selves? Would it have been like the kiss never happened? What torture. Huck wouldn’t have been able to focus on fishing for one second. Who cared about fishing? Love was the only thing that mattered.

  He prefers to think there would have been a new energy between him and his first mate, barely sublimated. Huck would brush against Irene, their hands would touch, she would sit next to him behind the wheel of the boat. He would count the hours and then the minutes until the clients were walking away down the dock so that he could kiss Irene again.

  People would assume they were newlyweds.

  It’s been so long since Huck has felt this way about a woman that he hardly recognizes himself. He feels twenty-five again.

  But they hadn’t had a charter and so Huck was left in a vacuum of solitude. He wanted to call Irene and invite her to do something. There was a new floating taco bar in the East End called Lime Out. They could drive to Hansen Bay, rent a kayak, and paddle out for tacos. Would Irene like that? Or maybe a simple lunch would be better, at Aqua Bistro in Coral Bay. Huck could introduce Irene to Rupert—but no, Rupert would be smitten immediately and Huck would have to beat him back.

  In the end, Huck lay in his hammock and finally finished the Connelly book. After enjoying a brief sense of accomplishment, he’d stared at his damn phone, willing it to ring, willing it to be Irene inviting him to the villa for a swim in the pool.

  Three o’clock didn’t even provide its usual respite because Maia was going hiking with Cash so she didn’t need a ride home from school.

  Huck figured Maia would be hungry when she got home and so at five thirty, he went to Candi’s for barbecue, then he got the text from Destiny about the next day’s charter and he assumed Irene had received it too. They would be together tomorrow on the boat.

  Huck tried Maia to get her ETA but was delivered straight to her voicemail. She always let her phone run down at the end of a day; it was frustrating. He decided to take a shower—and now that he’s out, he can see he has two missed calls, both from Irene, which at this time of day is strange—and maybe troubling.

  “Maia?” Huck calls out, but there’s no answer. Huck pokes his head out into the hallway. The house is quiet; Maia’s bedroom door is open. She’s not home yet, but she should be any second, so his privacy is limited. He closes the bedroom door and prepares to call Irene back, but something stops him.

  She has called twice without leaving a message, so clearly there’s something she wants to tell him in person. He fears—he can barely say the words in his mind—that the kissing changed things for the worse and that Irene no longer feels she can work on the boat. He’ll be crushed. He has relived the kissing so many times in the past twenty-one hours that it has taken on the quality of a dream. Irene was enthusiastic about kissing him back, right? In his mind, she has her hands in his hair; she’s pulling him closer, wanting the kiss to be deeper. But Huck had been drinking and he has seen far too much on the news not to have doubts about even the most consensual-seeming of acts. Huck shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. There was a moment at the villa where he’d wanted very badly to press his body against hers, but he hadn’t done it. There had been the impulse and then maybe the start of a movement but he’d stopped himself in time. Still, he worries she read his mind, sensed the power of his urges, and now is afraid and maybe even repulsed by him and thinks that working together is no longer a good idea. In fact, it’s inappropriate. In fact, the friendship has to go as well.


  As Huck is spiraling down into bleaker and bleaker depths, his phone rings. It’s Irene.

  Hard things are hard, he thinks. He’ll just have to apologize and promise to be a gentleman from here on out. But he cannot, cannot, let her quit.

  “Hello?” he says, as jolly as Santa Claus.

  “Huck,” she says. “It’s Irene.”

  “I already knew that,” he says. “The marvel of cell phones.”

  “I’m calling to see if Maia has made it home?” Irene says.

  “What?” Huck says. He’s confused. “Not yet, no. Why? I thought she was with Cash.”

  “Oh, dear,” Irene says.

  Huck hangs up the phone, calls Maia, gets her voicemail, then climbs into his truck and slams the door so hard his ears ring.

  Late charter? Since when has Huck ever, ever come home late from a charter?

  Never, that’s when.

  He wants to wring Cash Steele’s neck!

  Put your son on the goddamned phone! Huck had shouted at Irene. I need to know exactly where he dropped her off.

  Irene gave the phone to Cash. Cash sounded worried and kept apologizing; he should have brought her straight home, he said.

  You’re goddamned right you should have brought her home! Huck said. You should have checked with me. I’m her family. I’m her only family!

  You’re not, though, Cash had said. I’m her brother. You can’t possibly be accusing me of intentionally putting her in danger.

  I’m accusing you of being thoughtless, Huck said. And negligent. She was a child in your care. Huck slammed down the phone; he was livid. The Steele family, one and all, are pirates, he decides. And now they’re trying to steal Maia. Well, Huck won’t allow it.

  He sits in his car, fuming, wondering who to call. Joanie’s mother? Shane’s parents?

  As he’s wondering about this, his phone rings. Irene, it says.

  “What?” he barks.

  “Huck, please, calm down,” Irene says. “Whatever you said to Cash really upset him. You and I both know it was an innocent mistake. Why don’t you come pick me up and we’ll look for Maia together? Or I can take one of the Jeeps and meet you in town?”

  “How about you and your family stay away from my granddaughter?” Huck says. “Assuming I can even find her. Your numbskull son dropped her off at Powell Park when it was nearly dark. She’s twelve years old, Irene. Twelve! That is called gross negligence in my book. Now, I’m going to hang up and find my granddaughter. She’s mine, Irene. Not yours, not Cash’s—mine. Goodbye.” Huck ends the call and feels much better for one second, then much, much worse. He dials Joanie’s mom, Julie.

  “I hate to bother you,” Huck says.

  “Oh, Huck,” Julie says. “I was just about to call you. We’re frantic. We can’t find Joanie.”

  Julie is an organizer, so with a few calls, she discovers that they’re all missing: Maia, Shane, Joanie, Colton, and Bright Whittaker. But Julie doesn’t have eyes and ears the way Huck does. He calls Rupert, tells him Maia and her little friends are at large, probably somewhere in Cruz Bay, and asks him to alert his lady friends.

  Meanwhile, Huck drives into town and checks first at the little beach in Chocolate Hole and then at the basketball courts across from the gas station.

  No Maia.

  As Huck is heading into the roundabout, his phone rings. It’s Mick. Huck heard from Maia that Ayers and Mick got engaged—which, Huck has to admit, he found startling—and he wonders if Mick is calling to give him the news. Huck nearly sends the call to voicemail, but at the last second, he answers. “Hey, Mick, what’s up?”

  “Hey, Huck,” Mick says. “Just thought you should know that Maia and her friends are hanging out on the edge of Frank Bay. I…was taking a little walk, and I saw them down there. It’s pretty late, so I thought—”

  “Yes, thank you,” Huck says. “I’m on my way.”

  Huck drives to the Beach Bar, double-parks, and strides out onto the sand. He doesn’t see Maia. He heads to the left, spies a couple of kids—it’s pretty far away from the Beach Bar, Huck wonders what Mick was doing all the way down here—and whistles. Even in the dark, he can see Maia jump to her feet. She comes running through the sand toward him.

  “Uh-oh,” she says.

  “Uh-oh is right,” he says. “Follow me. We’re going home.” Over Maia’s head, Huck calls out, “Party’s over, kids. I’m calling everyone’s parents.”

  Maia sits in the truck while Huck leans against it. He really wants a cigarette right now, but he can’t set that kind of poor example until every child is claimed. This gives Huck a chance to calm down and second-guess himself. Did he overreact? No; it’s nearly nine o’clock on a school night and they were having a kumbaya sit-in on a deserted section of beach. God only knows what they were doing.

  “What were you doing?” Huck asks Maia once he gets behind the wheel. “Other than trying to send me to an early grave.”

  “Talking,” Maia says. “And I know I was wrong and I know I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I also know it’s not going to make any difference and that I’m grounded. But we had a crisis.”

  “Crisis?”

  “Colton’s parents are getting a divorce,” Maia says. “He needed us.”

  Huck sighs and lets the rest of his anger go. One of the things he likes best about St. John is exactly what Maia is describing: in times of trouble, people come together. That was true when LeeAnn died and even more true when Rosie died. Why should it be any less true for Maia and Colton just because they’re kids?

  “You should have called me,” Huck says.

  “My phone was dead.”

  “Not everyone’s phone was dead,” Huck says.

  “I didn’t want to call,” Maia says, “because I thought you’d make me come home. We all made a vow we wouldn’t tell our parents where we were until we knew Colton was going to be all right.”

  “Colton is going to be just fine,” Huck says. He nearly points out that Maia just endured something far worse and she’s okay, but Huck doesn’t want to bring up Rosie right now, even though he misses her very, very much at this moment. Rosie would have been far more understanding than Huck about this little powwow. Rosie might have invited all the kids to pile into her car and then taken them all home herself, encouraging them to share their feelings as she drove. “He has two parents who love him.”

  “Facts,” Maia says. “Unfortunately, while we were on the beach, I discovered another problem.”

  “Oh, really.”

  “I saw Mick,” Maia says. “He walked all the way down from the Beach Bar.”

  Huck nearly says, Yes, he was the one who called me—but he doesn’t want to reveal his sources.

  “And he was with Brigid. Brigid was crying hysterically. Mick had his arms around her trying to comfort her—this was before he noticed me sitting with my friends…”

  “Yeah?” Huck says.

  “And then they started kissing!” Maia says. Her voice is shaky. “I’m so disgusted with him. He pulled away after a minute, but not soon enough. As soon as I get home and charge my phone, I’m calling Ayers.”

  For Pete’s sake, Huck thinks. Does the drama never end?

  “They’re adults, Nut,” he says. “I think maybe you should let them work it out.”

  “He’ll never tell her,” Maia says. “Ayers will never know if I don’t say something.”

  “Maybe that’s for the best,” Huck says. He lights a cigarette and takes a long, much-needed drag. “Maybe he and Brigid needed closure.”

  “Closure?” Maia says, and she laughs like a full-grown woman. “Spare me.”

  When they get back to Jacob’s Ladder, Huck says, “Grounded for a week. No town for two weeks.”

  Maia nods.

  “You lied to Cash,” Huck says. “You told him I had a late charter. So then I turned around and ripped him a new one for believing you. Now your own brother can’t trust you.”

  “I’m sorry,”
Maia says.

  “Your mother hid a lot of things from me,” Huck says. He hadn’t wanted to bring up Rosie, but here she is, showing up anyway. “Probably because she didn’t think I could handle the truth.” Huck clears the lump in his throat. “I’ve learned my lesson. You promise to tell me the truth, whatever it is, and I promise to handle it. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” she says.

  “Go inside, please. There’s Candi’s on the table with extra comeback sauce. Then straight to bed.”

  “Where are you going?” Maia asks.

  “I have some apologizing to do myself,” Huck says.

  He drives to the villa even though it’s late and Irene might be in bed. Both Jeeps are in the driveway, which Huck supposes is a good thing. He needs to apologize to Cash; he shudders when he thinks how hard he was on the poor guy.

  But it was Maia. When Cash has a child of his own, he’ll understand.

  Huck trudges up the stairs and sees a light on in the kitchen. Cash is sitting at the kitchen table with his phone in front of him.

  Huck knocks on the sliding door and Cash jumps, then hurries to let Huck in. “Did you find her?”

  “I did,” Huck says. “She’s safe.” He can see the relief wash over Cash’s face and Huck feels ashamed. He’s so afraid of losing Maia, even of sharing her, that he’s ignoring the best part about her newfound family: there are more people who care about her. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cash says. “I’ve been beating myself up since I dropped her off, wondering how I could have been so gullible—”

  “You trusted her,” Huck says. “That’s a good thing. I had no right to speak to you the way I did, and I hope you can forgive me.”

  “My mom gave me your cell number,” Cash says. “If you ever let me hang out with Maia again, I promise I’ll follow the rules and drop her only at home.”