“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was rude to share an appreciation of nature.” He picks up the lantern and hands it to me.
“You just scared me. What are you doing out here?”
“Something woke me up.” One corner of his mouth twitches. “Sounded like a howler monkey.”
There’s no good way to respond, so I scowl and change the subject. “I thought you weren’t allowed to talk to me anymore.”
“Technically, no. But we ran into each other while taking a stroll. To ignore you would have been plain rude.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Touché.”
He points up. “There’s some incredible wildlife out here.”
“You must have seen a lot.”
“I have, but it still fascinates me. That’s one of the reasons I still do the show after all these years.”
Another flock appears in the sky. “Like that,” I say, pointing up. “I’ve never seen birds with wings like that.”
He nods, hands on his hips. “That’s because they’re bats.”
The blood rushes from my face. “What?”
Smiling calmly, he looks me in the eye. “Those are bats.”
Instinctively, my hands fly up and wrap around my neck. It’s silly, I know it is. Bats don’t bite your neck, and even if they did, it would only be vampire bats, and I’m fairly sure vampire bats don’t hang out in the tropics. Still, I’ve seen too many of a certain kind of movie, and the need to protect my neck is heavily engrained in my psyche.
“Excuse me.” My voice drops to a whisper and I take a step backward. “I’m going back to my tent.”
Rick leans in and drops his voice to match mine. “They can’t hear you.”
“Good.” As I run off, his deep laugh joins the other jungle noises.
This is crazy. When I thought they were birds, they were tranquil. Now, all I want to do is run from the bloodthirsty predators in the sky. But run where? Back into my tent with the mutant insects?
Back home. I want to run back home, where the only wildlife I have to deal with is Ranger and the occasional lizard that scurries out from under the flowering lantana. I want to be in my bug-free bed and wake up in the morning ready for another day in my normal, well-ordered life.
I look behind me. Rick is walking toward the men at the fire barrel. If I begged him to take me back home, would he? Probably not. I did sign a contract, after all. But even if he would, it’s not an option. No matter how miserable and scared I am, I can’t ignore the reason I’m doing this. Jessica is waiting. If I have to brave bats and bugs to get to her, then so be it.
Besides, it probably won’t be as bad as I’m imagining. It’s only thirty days. A person can stand anything for thirty days. Right?
11
I can’t stand it.”
How can it take this long to get from one island to the other? I knew I shouldn’t have eaten so much this morning, but Kai had been adamant that food wouldn’t be easy to come by anytime soon. So I ate, despite the nervous tension already tumbling and churning in my stomach.
Now, leaning over the rail of the boat as it bounces and skips through the waves, all I want is to get rid of my breakfast. Either that, or die. I’m not picky.
“Breathe slowly. Out through your mouth, in through your nose.” Kai rubs my back while she coos the instructions to me.
I groan. “Oh, something’s gonna come out through my mouth.”
“No, it’s not. You’ll be fine. We’re almost there.”
“Promise?”
She squeezes my shoulder. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“No. In the day I’ve known you, you’ve never lied.” I’ve had relationships with men that I couldn’t say that about. Not that I’d bring that up now.
Instead, I listen to Kai’s voice, squeeze my eyes shut, and I breathe.
“Atta girl. You just keep breathing.”
Perched on the edge of the hospital bed is, a volunteer in a blue smock, hair pulled back in a fluffy blond ponytail. Her strong fingers surround my hand, the one without the IV needle invading the skin.
Another contraction. Pain cuts me in two. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Of course you can. Your body is made for this.”
She leans forward, eyes clear and certain, and I believe her. I can do this. And I keep breathing.
“What did I tell you? Here we are.”
Kai’s voice cuts into the memory. Even before I open my eyes I can feel that we’ve slowed down. I look over the bow, and there it is. Land.
The boat stops a fair distance from shore. “Why are we stopping here?” I ask.
“Because running aground is bad.” As usual, Kai gets right to the point.
A small motor boat pulls up beside us. Kai crooks her finger at me. “Grab your bag. That’s our ride.”
I follow her across the deck, wondering again how she can move in a straight line when all I can do is lurch in a wobbly zigzag like a drunken poodle. After snatching the canvas bag of my meager belongings, I follow Kai to the railing and look over. “How are we supposed to get down there?”
Her answer is to smile and unfasten a rope ladder. As it unfurls and the end splashes into the water, I weigh my choices. I can make my way down the questionable-looking ladder, possibly slipping on a damp rung and falling to a watery death. Or, I can stay on the boat. There really is no choice.
I slip my head and one arm through the drawstrings of my bag and shift it until it hangs on my back. Then I step around Kai and make my way down. The plastic buckles of the bulky, orange life vest they made me wear catch on each rung I pass. Every time I pull back and the buckle pops free, I tense up, anticipating the fall. Finally, the motorboat is right below me. The captain of the little vessel is standing there, his arms up in the air, as if he intended to catch me upon my inevitable fall. I’m so glad to see him there, I don’t even mind when his hands close around my waist and he helps me off the ladder.
“Thank you.” I try to step away, but the deck bucks beneath my feet. The only thing that stops me from going over the side is the captain’s hand that shoots out and grabs my upper arm.
“We best get you off your feet.” His voice is like gravel in a garbage disposal, but his eyes are bright and from the way his skin crinkles at the corners, I’d say he’s amused by my lack of sea legs.
A thump sounds behind me as Kai jumps from the bottom of the ladder to the boat. Her fingers close around my other arm, and she grins at the captain. “I’ll take her from here.”
He nods, gives a mock salute with two fingers to his forehead, and moves to the outboard motor. Once Kai’s got me settled on a hard seat of molded plastic, she pats me on the head like I’m a five-year-old girl. “You’d better hold on. The trip to shore will be quick, but pretty choppy.”
“It can’t be worse than that thing.” I glare at the ship I’ve just abandoned.
Kai shrugs. “Don’t be so sure. The smaller the boat, the rougher the ride.” The motor revs and we shoot forward, confirming what she just said.
Groaning, I double over and clutch the sides of the seat. “I’m on the voyage of no return.”
“I’ve heard it called worse.” The captain bellows to be heard above the noise.
Thankfully, it doesn’t last long. A few minutes later, Kai jumps out of the boat and into the water, then crooks her finger at me to follow.
Pointing down, I shake my head. “I don’t want to get my shoes wet.”
“Might as well get used to it. What with the ocean and the rain and the mud, dry shoes will soon become a distant memory.”
Why do I question anything anymore? It seems the whole theme of this adventure is Jump first, ask questions later. As I slosh through the surf, I manage to keep my bag above water, but my athletic shoes will never be the same again. Clumps of sand cling to them, and water squishes out the sides as I walk farther up the beach.
“Where is everybody?” The same assortme
nt of people are here that were on the other island. They’re like busy little drone bees, ID cards dangling from lanyards and bouncing on their chests as they hurry from one place to the next. But these aren’t the drones I’m looking for.
Stumbling through the sand, I catch up with Kai. “Where are the other contestants?”
“They’ll be here soon, which means we have to get you out of sight.”
I’m beginning to wonder if this whole thing is one gigantic April Fool’s joke. Will I ever really get to see my daughter, or will they keep shuttling me from place to place in increasingly uncomfortable modes of transportation?
If ever there was a time to assert myself, it’s now. I stop short and jam my fists on my hips. “I’m not taking another step until I see Jessica.”
When Kai turns to me, she’s not smiling. “Come on, Monica. You knew how this was going to play out.” She keeps her voice low and even, moving slowly to my side like a cop trying to talk a person off a ledge. “You can’t just be standing here when Jessica arrives. There’s a whole big reveal planned.”
I know that. So when she threads her arm through the crook of my elbow, I let her pull me along with her. “Sorry. I’m just so tired of waiting.”
“Of course you are. Let me give you a little tip.”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
“It’s common sense stuff. The same thing any fan of the show would tell you.” Her head swivels from side to side, then she looks back at me and smiles. “Besides, if no one overhears you give advice, did you really give it?”
Who am I to argue? “What’s the tip?”
“Most people think the physical challenges are the hardest parts of the show. But they’re not. What’s really tough are the mind games. Enough people will be trying to psych you out and undermine your confidence. You don’t need to do it to yourself.”
“It’s just . . .” A big puff of air bursts from my lungs as I prepare to speak aloud what’s been bothering me for the last week. “It doesn’t seem real. It feels like the time will come, but she won’t be there. I’ll be alone.”
“I can promise you this. You’ll see her.”
My eyes open wider as I grasp Kai’s unspoken message. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”
She nods and pats my hand. “No more talking, now.”
We’ve reached a thatched hut with a door, but no windows. The inside is much less rustic. From the looks of it, I’d say it’s soundproof.
“Wow, they’re really serious about the surprise factor.”
“You have no idea.” She points to a plastic water bottle on a collapsible snack table. “I suggest you down that while you have the chance.”
She sits cross-legged on the ground and I do the same. As I chug-a-lug the last fresh, clean water I’m liable to see in a month, Kai explains exactly what’s going to happen. How the other contestants will be brought here, to what is considered the Home Island, and how Rick will welcome them. And after that, he’ll bring me out of the tent and I’ll join Jessica . . . and everyone else.
I suck the last drop from the bottle, then crush the plastic. “This is my last private moment, isn’t it?”
“Yep. From here on in, the cameras will watch everything you do.”
“Everything?”
She grins. “Well, not everything. There are lines even reality folks don’t cross.”
That’s good to hear. But after the hours and hours of back episodes Jules forced me to watch, I’m pretty sure their lines are about a mile farther out than any of my lines. Not that it matters now. I’m committed to following this through, no matter what.
“Are you a praying woman, Kai?”
She shrugs and tilts her head so that her shoulder nearly touches her ear. “Sometimes.”
“If you think about it over the next month, send one up for me now and then.”
Kai nods, and I really hope she’s serious. Because I’m pretty sure that divine intervention and a few well-placed miracles are the only way I’m going to make it to the other side.
12
Tom Petty was right. The waiting really is the hardest part.
How long has it been? With no windows, no watch, no clock, there’s no way to tell. I’ve done everything I can think of to pass the time. I’ve gone through my bag and shaken out each item to make sure no bugs stowed away. I’ve gotten up and paced in a circle, sat back down on the ground, and gone through the bag again. Still, it feels like hours, but for all I know it’s been twenty minutes.
I’ve never been good at waiting. My tendency to charge forward without thinking has gotten me into trouble more than once, including that one time with Duncan McAllister. And that little misstep had me waiting nine months.
The door opens and I jump, almost expecting to see Duncan standing there. Of course, he’s not. It’s Kai.
“They’re ready for you.”
I pull in a breath, but it stutters its way into my lungs. Maybe the waiting wasn’t so bad after all. Sure, the waiting was boring and irritating, but it didn’t come with fear that nails my feet into the ground.
“Come on.” She waves me to her. “Time to get in the game.”
This is it. I sling the canvas bag over my shoulder again and make my feet move, one in front of the other, trying not to think about the fact that once I step through that door, my life will never be the same.
Who am I kidding? My life hasn’t been the same since Jules summoned me to her house that night. The only chance I have of making things right and getting back to some semblance of normal is to go through with this.
Once I’m standing outside with Kai, she smacks me between the shoulders twice, slides her hand down to the small of my back, and pushes me forward.
“Remember, none of them is any better or any worse than you.” The more she talks, the faster we walk. “You’re all here to play the same game.”
“I’m not really here for the game,” I say in a hissing whisper, not wanting to be picked up by the boom mics I see several men holding. “I’m here for my daughter.”
Kai narrows her eyes and gives me a quick scolding look. “Yes, and she’s here to play the game. If you want to get close to her, then concentrate on doing what you have to do to win. Or at least to not get kicked off first.”
Good grief, she’s right. Until now, all I’d thought about was being here with Jessica. I never stopped to think that the amount of time we spend together is directly tied to how well we do in the game. I have to put my all into playing this thing, whether I want to or not.
Kai pulls me up short right where the palm trees end and the open beach begins. “When Rick calls you, you’re going to walk that way.” She points to the left.
“I don’t suppose I can take you with me?”
She gives a sad little head shake. “Wish I could. But you’ll be fine.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve been with this show since episode one, season one. We haven’t lost a contestant yet.”
“There’s always a first time.”
“It would definitely be a ratings booster.”
I frown at her and she rolls her eyes at the fact that I might begin to believe she was serious. Then she puts a finger to her lips and turns her attention back to the beach.
From where we’re standing, I have a partially obstructed view. A boat similar to the one that brought us here is anchored off shore. Several steady-cam operators are scattered around as well as at least two stationary cameras. Rick isn’t in view, but now that I’m not talking, I can make out his voice.
“Welcome to season twelve of Last Family Standing.”
Cheers erupt, and I imagine them bouncing up and down in the sand, pumping their fists and clapping. That’s how all the seasons I watched started. By the end, they’ll hardly have enough energy to stand, let alone do a fist pump.
“Jessica.”
As soon as I hear Rick say her name, I hold my breath and strain to hear what else he has t
o say.
“You’re standing by yourself. I’m sure you’re anxious to know if we heard from your mother.”
She must have answered him, but I don’t hear anything.
“Let’s not make you wait any longer. Monica Stanton! Are you out there?”
Kai nods, gives me a thumb’s up, and pushes me toward the beach.
I can do this. I can do this. It plays over and over in my head, my own personal mantra to avoid doing something embarrassing, like passing out or throwing up.
I come out from the trees and into the open. And there they are. On the right is one large group of people, but the way they’re standing, you can make out the family pairs. And on the left, standing by herself, is Jessica.
My daughter.
Clapping and other assorted noises come from the group, but I’m really not interested in them. I drink her in, memorizing the moment, even though it’s being captured on film by at least six different cameras. Jessica whips her head around to look at me, sending her auburn ponytail swinging like a pendulum. Her eyes widen, and as I draw closer I read the surprise there. She really didn’t expect me to come. But then, why would she?
Rick’s talking, saying something about how they found me, and how it’s a first for the series. About six feet separates me from Jessica and I have been struck mute. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I have too much to say. What comes first? How do you greet the child you haven’t seen since the day she was born? How’ve you been? No, that’s all wrong. What’s new? How did I ever think I could do this?
Jessica takes the initiative. “Hi.”
Her first word. Something melts inside me.
“Hi, Jessica.”
For some reason, she flinches when I say her name. The response makes me want to take her in my arms, so I step forward, but she takes a step back and to the side. Despite the embarrassment burning in my cheeks, I cover by moving beside her and looking at Rick.
Let the games begin.
***
On TV, Last Family Standing moves at a rapid pace. In real life, it’s as slow as, well . . . real life. We’re given a map and told to hike around the island to the place we’ll call home for the next month. Unfortunately, I think that Bob, the man who grabbed the map and claimed he had an excellent sense of direction, overestimated himself because a one-mile walk has taken about an hour. And we’re still not there.
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