Destiny Defied (The Destiny Series)

by Marx, J. A.

  “Leapin’ lobsters!” Whisking a shirt out of the basket, she marched it to the line. “Quit acting like you’ve never confronted vengeful opponents. You make me think hostility germinated on Omeàla and never spread.”

  How many birthdays had she spent running scared?

  Isaac quickly dried his eyes. To help her connect with civilization, he needed a better understanding of her past. But her former life only drove him toward misery.

  Sabio leaned on the railing. “Sounds to me like an extended camping trip.”

  Motivated by warfare. Isaac rehung a fallen pair of shorts.

  “Exactly.” She shook out a bath towel. “When I was eight, I found a secret cave. I stocked it with supplies. Ate there. Slept there. I loved my home away from home.”

  The Omeàlan lifestyle was clearly her norm. She gave examples of what she called adventures.

  Rough and tough fell short of describing Chiara Spencer. How she, as a child, had adapted to such an adverse environment floored Isaac. Listening to her version of onsite wilderness training, he decided she outclassed the scouts. He ditched misery in an attempt to capture her optimism.

  Rescuing a shirt from the basket, he turned … and frowned at the fallen laundry. He fixed a towel, the second item he’d had to repin. “Stupid clothesline.”

  Chiara patted his shoulder. “Keep at it.”

  Warmth raced up his neck. “These are majorly dysfunctional pins.” Stooping to get his fifth article of clothing, he noticed Sabio grinning, his face red from suppressed laughter.

  Suddenly suspicious, Isaac straightened up—and bonked heads with Chiara who was reaching for her zillionth piece of laundry.

  “Sorry.” She rubbed her forehead and carried the Amish swimsuit to the line, humming.

  Soothing the back of his skull, Isaac acknowledged Jase who’d just climbed the railing.

  The musician yawned. “What’s up?”

  Next to him, Sabio chuckled. “We just established global regulations for fair trade.”

  “Global market stuff, huh?” Jase cracked up. “Stank. I missed it.”

  Nerds. Isaac hung a shirt. Pretending to get another, he watched Chiara out of the corner of his eye.

  Seeing her pinch open the clothespin he just put up, he whipped around and snagged her arm. “Caught ya!”

  She shrieked.

  Letting her go, he grabbed a wet towel and twirled it between his hands. “You rascally little mermaid.”

  Infecting him with her breathy laughter, she sprang toward the bungalow.

  He snapped the towel at her and nipped her elbow.

  “Eeeouch!” She leaped onto the deck and rushed passed Sabio who ducked out of her way.

  Twirling the towel, Isaac trailed his comical prey as she pranced around the table.

  Jase darted in and out like a rodeo clown. Laughing more heartily than she ever had on the Cay, Chiara used the clown as armor.

  Snap!

  “Wrong target.” Jase defended himself.

  Chiara’s head hovered above the musician’s shoulder, eyes sparkling. “Truce? On behalf of casualties?”

  Isaac wagged a finger. “Don’t try that stunt again.”

  “I promise.” Her rascally smirk shifted into the expectant smile that popped up every time she discovered something glorious about her new world. “Do friends always have this much fun?

  Her childlike wonder only embedded her deeper into Isaac’s growing affection.

  “The fun is only beginning.” He rescued the forgotten clothesbasket and carried it into the bungalow before passion persuaded him to steal a kiss.

  Chapter 61

  Chiara lounged on the beach with her island mates. Nestled against a glittery black canvas above, a sleepy-eyed moon bathed the shoreline. The luminous surf crawled up and down the sand toward a small bonfire. Yet nothing in nature’s beauty could surpass the wondrous feeling of having friends. Working to enshrine the past six days, her mind hopscotched through unforgettable moments.

  Jase played her new favorite song, the instrumental piece he’d written for her. After years of singing to people, being entertained felt strange, in an enchanting way.

  “There’s one last thing on tonight’s agenda.” Isaac dragged his daypack closer.

  He pulled out the plastic mug, and Chiara suspected a prank. That morning, Max’s travel cup had triggered pain she preferred not to relive.

  The Ohioans stood.

  “Isaac, you wicked dog.” Jase’s optimistic use of wicked likely didn’t match its dictionary definition. Nonetheless, it flustered her.

  She stayed put on the beach mat until Isaac’s insistent hand coaxed her involvement. She rose, pouting, her emotions drained by fatigue.

  He removed the mug’s lid. “You are going through an extraordinary, radical transformation, Chiara Spencer. And to help close this phase one of your new life, we’re asking you to take part in a symbolic ceremony.”

  Jase beamed her a reassuring smile. The Foursome appeared to be in cahoots. Again.

  She restrained an urge to run and braced for their game. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Hold your hands in front of you.”

  She raised both, palms up.

  Isaac nodded. “Now think of all the junk from your past that you want to get rid of, or leave behind. Things that torment you. Then, in your mind, place that junk in your hands.”

  This didn’t sound like a prank. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll get you started. Your stepfather’s exploitation. Your mother blowing up the ship. The Nave del Piacere …”

  The restricted junk room opened wide and flooded Chiara’s dry riverbed of emotion. If she didn’t conclude this phase, could she reach phase two? Tomorrow she’d meet a world she only understood from lectures and distorted texts. She didn’t want to bungle her live opportunity.

  Out of habit, she glanced about for any tutors ready to tape her mouth shut for giving away information. Then she closed her eyes and hoped not to cry.

  “Being cut off from the world. Not being allowed to hang out with the villagers. Putting up with Max’s injustice.” Burdensome impressions made her open her eyes to patrol for danger. “Knowing that he hated me.”

  Isaac held out the mug. “Drop it in before it falls out of your hand.”

  She relaxed her fists over the opening. The first batch of junk spilled out only to be replaced by a fresh stock of undesirables. This ceremony just became a love-hate exercise.

  Sabio nudged her. “Keep going.”

  “Being blamed for Miguel’s death.” Anger churned out a tear. Yes, she wanted a chance to bring the Lux to justice. “Lies and the erroneous teachings from criminals claiming to be tutors. Never celebrating my birthday …”

  Forced to perform. The fondling and obscenities. She couldn’t speak those out loud. God, You know how those scum hurt me.

  “Toss it in the mug.” Isaac gentleness consoled her. “Is there anything else you want to throw out?”

  Chiara stared at the container. “There’s not enough room.”

  “You’d be surprised how much these mugs can hold. Think about the mirror message.”

  Shame clenched her chest. She’d already battened down the hatches over the notorious role Vétis had chosen for her. Verbalizing it again meant she’d have to engage excruciation. “I don’t think I can.”

  Sabio’s palm settled on her shoulder. “You’ll wish you had if you don’t.”

  She took a deep breath. “Being the … when they …” Her hands dropped to her sides.

  Her tutors had deceived her into hating the outside world for so long. But humanity was not the dirt they had claimed it was. And Omeàlans feared Chiara for reasons she never understood. Until this week. They had believed the Lux’s lies.

  Taking her hand, Sabio held it up for her. Akiko did the same on her other side.

  “Let it go, Chiara,” Isaac said. “It’s not who you are.”

  But I’m the world
’s enemy. Mentally rehearsing the curse over the past days, she now realized how she’d nurtured its ugly existence.

  Akiko and Sabio didn’t budge. She assumed their stubborn act of commitment was another obligation of friendship. Of course, they wouldn’t have bothered celebrating her birthday if they feared or hated her. Would they?

  Quit stalling, and do it. She stomped her foot. “Lord Vétis branding me as Hell’s Bride.”

  “Drop it in.” Isaac pressed the mug closer. Sabio and Akiko removed their hands.

  I. Am. Not. The enemy. She opened her fists. A cornerstone of the inner foundation collapsed. She exhaled at its death. Inhaled a rebirth.

  Placing the lid on the mug, Isaac screwed it shut. “This contains the parts of your past that have no more hold. As your brothers in God’s family, we stand in agreement.”

  Brothers. Another fantasy turned real world?

  Through forbidden bedtime stories whispered in the dark, Jamila had told of the love she shared with her two brothers before coming to Omeàla. Chiara had integrated all her mother’s stories into her own dreams of living a normal life. Her dreams were coming true, and she’d do anything for these brothers.

  Isaac tossed the mug in the fire, and the stench of burning plastic sullied the air. “Phase one is completed. Life will never revert to the old way. Your heart is good. You have a new identity.”

  Liberty unfolded. In its wake, Peace embraced Chiara. From this point on, she served a new King—one who healed hurts, not caused them.

  “This is cooler than free-soloing Turtle’s Hea—” Covering her mouth, she peeked through her bangs to read the safetyman’s reaction to that news.

  “Rascal.” Chuckling, Isaac shoveled sand toward the blackened wood with his toes. “Tomorrow, you meet the land of liberty. What are you most looking forward to?”

  A backlog of dreams and desires broke loose from their dungeon. “Being around people. Touching snow. Visiting a library and reading any book I want. Which will be all of them.”

  Isaac’s erupting affection created a fifth chamber in his heart. Chiara’s survival was no fluke.

  As she listed her wishes in a whirlwind fashion, he made each of her desires his own. “Run as far as I can and never meet the ocean. See a movie.” Her olive cheeks glistened in the firelight. “And make friends.”

  He shot that wish to the top of the list.

  Art museums. Riding a bike. Skiing … “I guess I should buy clothes, too.” She brushed at her flirty attire. “This was my only conservative outfit.”

  His jaw dropped before he could catch it. “That? Is conservative?”

  “According to Max.” Her hands scrambled to cover her navel.

  Isaac hadn’t meant to embarrass her, although she looked exceptionally sweet trying to hide her bare belly. As long as she was close, even those baggy shorts she’d had to yank up all week would satisfy.

  “Thanksgiving sounds interesting. Do you really dress up like pilgrims and Indians?”

  The guys groaned.

  Isaac reinterpreted holiday traditions and activities as sullen reminders that Chiara had no family circle. She was The Match Girl, Orphan Annie.

  Wild Man will take care of you, princess. He dreamed up ways to restore that part of her life.

  Drawing lines in the sand with her big toe, she let out a giggle. “And I can’t wait to experience Christmas. Give gifts. Ornament trees.” She grinned at Jase, the Christmas fanatic.

  Her childlike desires kindled excitement, and Isaac noticed a mutual reaction in his friends.

  Wiping a tear from her cheek, she gazed at the sky. “Now that I think about it. If I died right now, tonight, that would be okay, too.”

  Die? Isaac’s spirit plunged from cloud nine to subterranean gloom.

  “I’ve been forgiven of my past, and God wants me despite it all.” Her hands reached toward the heavens, hailing a chariot for pick up. “If I died this minute, I would die knowing friendship and being at peace with the world.”

  He labored to keep his burgeoning distress in check.

  “Leapin’ lobsters!” Her arms flopped back to her sides. “Forget the wish list. I’ve already transcended my most extravagant dreams. Life feels right for once.”

  The knot in Isaac’s throat tightened. “Don’t say that.”

  “Say what?”

  He kicked sand at the fire. “You can’t scrap your wish list. Think of the people who want to meet you. Think how many places there are to see. You can’t die.”

  “Mellow out.” Jase squeezed his shoulder.

  Chiara’s fists perched on her hips. “I did not say I was going to die. I said—”

  “We heard you say it.” Isaac bumped Jase out of his way and circled the bonfire. He shook a finger at her. “You are not missing your first Christmas. Or amusement parks. Or snow—”

  She clenched his finger. “I merely said if I died.”

  “No ifs allowed. You don’t just take on a new identity then dump it.” He’d make her sleep in the bunkroom tonight.

  “Don’t be stupid.” She shoved his hand back at him.

  Clasping her shoulders, Isaac glared nose-to-nose. “Don’t ever say you’re going to die.”

  She shimmied out of his grasp. “Stop telling me what I’m supposed to do.” She cursed him under her breath.

  “Don’t use that language with me.”

  “You just did it again.” She dug two fingers into his chest. “You’re acting like Max.”

  That stung. Anger growled from his gut. “That was a low blow.”

  “How’s this one?” Pressing an imaginary pistol to her head, she snapped the trigger.

  “Buttons!” Sabio’s warning struck home.

  Crud. Isaac shut his driveling mouth.

  Chiara shoved him back with both hands. “You twisted what I said then lost your head over it.” She rammed him again. “I’m alive. And I feel it. I was being positive about my life for once. But you had to ruin it.”

  Blocking a third shove, he felt like a dirt clod. “I didn’t mean to come across like this.”

  “I don’t get you.” Her pitiless glare knifed him. “You’re up one minute and down the next. I can’t deal with that.”

  Apparently forgetting her own emotional roller coaster, she spun a one-eighty.

  Isaac caught her elbow and swung her back around. “Chiara, please.”

  She yanked her arm free. “You’ve ruined a perfect night.”

  “Truce.” Sabio stepped between them.

  “Go lecture someone who cares.” Butting the scholar out of her way, she marched across the beach toward the bungalow.

  Isaac started after her, and someone clutched his shirttail, holding him back.

  “Give her space,” Sabio said.

  “I’ll go.” Akiko trotted to catch up with her.

  Splitting at the seams with remorse, Isaac watched until they disappeared into the tree tunnel. He then trudged into the shadows, his body feeling twice its weight.

  “Ize …” Jase muttered sour nothings.

  “I know. I ruined everything.” He punched a palm tree, and the rigid bark punished his knuckles. “I couldn’t handle the thought of losing her.”

  His parents hadn’t mentioned the reckless side effects of love … enough.

  Raised by a counseling psychologist, Isaac understood Chiara’s healing process would be difficult. She had to uproot the present foundations and relay healthy ones in her heart and mind. An overwhelming, painful journey.

  Intending to support her the whole way, he was off to an appalling start. “I shouldn’t want Chiara in this way. Look what I’ve done to her.” He leaned back against the trunk.

  Jase picked up a coconut and tossed it around in his hands. “I’d question Isaac Young’s desire for a relationship if he didn’t show radical devotion toward a girl.”

  What other kind of devotion counted? Isaac hoped she’d someday have the same passion.

  She swore at me. Not the
type of character Isaac respected. But she wanted to change, and he’d give her time. She no longer lied about what was going on inside, which qualified as another miracle.

  “She’s so different.” Isaac hungered for honest answers, painful ones if that’s what he needed to hear. “Are we even right for each other?”

  Jase offered a thoughtful look. “She’s got your energy. But she balances you, too. Brings out your sensitive side.”

  Admittedly, he needed something tangible to temper his aggression. Her cruel past cultivated his compassion.

  Jase pitched the coconut to him. “She also has a strange affinity for in-your-face challenges. Which you give naturally.”

  That didn’t sound like a compliment, but it made Isaac smile. He liked Chiara’s undomesticated, fiery qualities. Her resilience. “She’s tougher than any woman I’ve ever met.”

  He marveled at her talent for turning negative experiences into a wealth of good personality. Otherwise, Omeàla would have broken her spirit and her will to live long ago.

  Sabio snorted. “No average, healthy man would dream of pursuing a woman that strong. She’d dominate.”

  Isaac considered himself healthy, but far from average. “So, what do I say to her?”

  “Think like your dad,” Jase said. He’d clocked enough hours with the Youngs to be considered a third son. He knew the family values.

  Chiara needed to see that Isaac could fix his mistakes. He had lived with good role models for navigating through conflicts. He merely needed to apply what he’d learned.

  Ready to make amends, he pulled Jase and Sabio together in a joint headlock. “What would I do without you guys to help me through my stupid moments?”

  “Suffer.” Jase squirmed free.

  Isaac threw sand on the glowing cinders then headed for the bungalow.

  Chapter 62

  “Isaac’s been acting strange these past couple days.”

  Sitting cross-legged on the deck bench, Chiara folded her arms and contemplated Akiko’s explanation for her ruined evening. “So you’re blaming me for his abnormal behavior?” She oozed more snippiness than intended.