Losing You (Finding You Series Book 2)

by Amanda Mackey

  I could feel my eyes moisten just thinking of that fact so I climbed into the car without saying a word. Dad didn’t push the subject so we both settled into a comfortable silence.

  The trip along the interstate was chaotic as usual. I had forgotten what traffic in a big city was like for a while. The busiest day on the island had been two cabs on the road at the same time. Now, as we traveled the wide freeways, weaving in and out of trucks, buses, cabs, mopeds, motorbikes, cars and anything else with wheels while listening to the incessant racket of horns hooting, I wondered how I’d ever driven in it.

  We left the urban jungle and its smoky shroud, exiting the freeway and shifting into the outer suburbs. My parents’ house was about an hour’s drive from downtown Los Angeles in a fine, quiet suburban sanctuary. The houses had large yards with polished gardens and white picket fences. I loved the region where I grew up. I would ride to school every day and had plenty of friends close by to spend time with on weekends.

  Dad was a lawyer for a top firm in the city. He had hoped I would follow in his footsteps and go to law school but he had supported me with whatever I chose to do.

  I had become interested in acting at a young age, when I would make up stories and act them out in front of family and friends. I took drama at school and had starred in nearly every production we did. It hadn’t taken long for the acting bug to bite. A talent scout just happened to attend the end of year play in senior year and had seen something in me he thought he could develop. Ever since then, I had been getting parts in all sorts of movies, not always playing the lead, but getting steady work. I couldn’t complain.

  Pulling up to the family home, it stood as it always had, with the large oak tree out the front dwarfing the house and creating welcome shade over the perfectly manicured lawn. The old, weathered car tire still dangled from the highest branch. Swinging on it for hours on end had whiled away the hours on boring, uneventful holidays when all the neighborhood kids had been away on vacation. The low set, Cape Cod-style house looked as pretty as a picture as we drove up the driveway. Dad had given it a fresh coat of paint a few weeks ago, renewing it to its former glory. It looked like Mom had been busy out in the garden, planting fresh colorful pansies and daisies along the driveway leading up to the garage.

  Nearing the front door, I wondered if anything had changed on the inside. I didn’t get to visit my family as often as I liked, my career took up way too much time. Flying off to exotic locations year round made it hard on everyone. Whenever I got the chance though, I’d leave my apartment in the city and come home for a few days, just to bring me back to earth and keep my feet on the ground. I was just a regular guy at home and wasn’t treated any differently because I was a film star. I liked that and knew that’s why I loved Dakota. I’d been able to be myself around her. She hadn’t treated me any differently. The media portrayed a very different image than the person I really was. Not many people got to know or see the real me. I was quite private that way.

  Feet barely inside, Mom came into sight with an oversized grin almost as wide as her outstretched arms. I dropped my bags and ran to her. This was home and it felt great. For the first time since news of the accident, my spirits lifted, slightly.

  “Welcome home, darling! It’s so good to see you! I’m so glad you agreed to come and stay with us for a while. You need to be around people who love you and can look after you. The city is no place for somebody who’s hurting.”

  She was right. She was always right. Even though at times we didn’t see eye to eye, she always turned out to be right. I didn’t question such an intelligent, independent woman. We’d always shared a special bond and I loved her more than words could say.

  “I’ve left your room just the same. I don’t like to move anything. That way I still feel like you’re home, even when you’re so far away. The dust was starting to collect on a few things though, so I popped in yesterday and had a spring clean, being careful to put everything back the way you like it.”

  “Thanks, Mom. You really didn’t need to worry, though. I’m sure even your idea of dusty is everyone else’s idea of clean.”

  Mom kind of bordered on obsessive. She kept herself immaculate and everything around her just as ship-shape. The house was always as neat as a pin, with nothing ever out of place. I had overdone it the first few months of bachelor life in the city, leaving dirty laundry on the floor and my bed unmade. It had felt good to rebel for a while and do the opposite of what I was used to. Mom would have had a meltdown if she’d known her son had been living like a slob.

  Wafting in from the kitchen trickled a memorable smell. It was my favorite dish that she always used to cook me when I was young. A fresh, fish chowder with everything thrown in and crusty, just baked bread rolls on a side plate. It smelled heavenly and for the first time in two weeks I felt like I may be able to eat something and enjoy it.

  “Why don’t you go and unpack, then we’ll catch up on everything until dinner is ready,” soothed Mom as she gave me another welcome home hug.

  In the privacy of my room, I threw myself down on my childhood bed, enjoying the softness of the mattress under my weary body. I drank in the room, hugging my old wizened rabbit, feeling like a young boy again. I let the tears slowly drip down my cheeks.

  Chapter Seven

  Dakota

  Wallowing in my prison, my strength returned daily. Jasmine seemed content with my progress and told me my wounds were healing. I was still, however, unable to use my leg.

  I wished to get up out of bed and saunter through the tracks that led to temporary freedom.

  The pain slicing into my thigh from the open fibula laceration was only marginally better after Jasmine’s attempt at healing, and each try at moving it had the muscles cramping up. The massive scar was only just starting to knit together. Surgery was probably warranted but was out of the question in a place that had no medical facilities apart from homemade lotions and potions.

  I hadn’t seen Daniel again after his initial visit. I guess he was too scared of being caught by his parents. It bothered me a little. I wanted to get to know him. I still hadn’t found an answer to my question regarding how I was going to return home.

  If Daniel couldn’t tell me, I decided to just come straight out and ask Jasmine, who had come to check on my leg. I swallowed my apprehension and asked the wicked witch.

  “How will I ever get off this island? You have no form of communication to contact the outside world, which means no one will ever know that I’m alive. Is there any way for me to get out of here, at all?”

  Jasmine didn’t hurry with an answer, looking like she was trying to interpret the words into her own dialect. Or maybe she was ignoring me. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “We have helicopter come in two months. It brings supplies to us. It comes from Sapphire Island. Maybe it take you there when it comes.”

  And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, was the answer I had been yearning to hear. A new hope was born. In a millisecond, Jasmine’s words carried forth light to my otherwise dark world. Desperation had hope. Dark faded to light. Sadness turned to joy. I would be reunited with Kyle. We were meant to be together. This was a sign. The days and weeks spent recouping on such a cut off atoll would be more endurable now knowing that my stay would come to an end. Life would go on. I couldn’t wipe the massive grin off my face.

  The reunion of all reunions, that’s what it would be. Dakota Livingston, back from the dead. Now that would make for some worthy headlines. We’d fall into each other’s arms and take up where we left off.

  Tracking him down would be tricky, though. His phone number was on my cell phone at the bottom of a very deep ocean. My life had been on that phone. My diary, contacts, songs, photos, videos, games and so much more. Modern technology was great when you had it but take it away and half of the population would be lost.

  I’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way and call every Rutherford in the phone book until I reach the right one.
r />   Jasmine left me to my thoughts and as one thing led to another, I bit my lip.

  There was an obstacle. Carefully peeking under the blanket, I gaped at the ratty old dress I wore. Was I going to have to travel in that? How would I get any money to buy new clothes or an airline ticket off Sapphire Island, for that matter?

  A vision appeared of my grand entrance to America, clad in nothing more than a gray sheet. That’s what this dress felt like. I’d be the laughing stock of a nation.

  Surely Ramah would come to the party with clothing. And Sapphire Island had a phone, too. My parents would be able to wire some money across for the airfare to America.

  This became the extent of each day. Thinking. Then there was thinking and more thinking. Oh, and throw in a nana nap and there you have it. Speaking of which, I drifted off again. Boredom was partly the instigator, not necessarily fatigue.

  As happy deliberation drifted away and sleep deepened, the first of the horrifying nightmares caught me in their grip. Nightmares of the crash, only this time Kyle and I were together. We both knew we were going to die and held each other as tightly as possible. Something heavy fell from above, hitting him in the head. I felt him go limp in my arms. His blood-stained face stared at me with eyes wide open. Pupils fully dilated. Orbs of death.

  I started screaming, shaking him. “No! Wake up! Wake up! Kyle? Oh God! You can’t be!”

  I was still screaming when I woke, sitting tall, with beads of sweat gluing strands of hair to my forehead.

  “Why are you screaming?” shot a small, meek voice from just outside the hut. I hastily looked over to where the voice came from, jumpy from the nightmare. There, standing outside, looking a little befuddled, was Daniel.

  “Are you all right, Dakota?” he asked, a genuine look of concern crossing his face.

  I relaxed a little, letting everything come back into perspective.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I was just having a nightmare, that’s all. I fell asleep and started dreaming about the plane crash. How far away could you hear me screaming?”

  “I was down at the beach playing and I heard you, so I ran up to see what the matter was.”

  Daniel’s English was near perfect. I had just assumed everyone on the island would use a native language, but even Jasmine’s English wasn’t too bad.

  Now was the perfect opportunity to start getting answers.

  “Why do you speak such good English?”

  Daniel relaxed somewhat. He walked into the hut and over to the bed where we could see and hear each other better. He perched himself down on the edge and started to explain.

  “When the supply helicopter comes every six months, they bring books for us to read so we can learn things. My mother and I chose to learn English. We’re the only two people on the island that can speak it well, so sometimes when we want to talk about someone we speak in English so they can’t understand what we’re saying. Not that it’s nice to talk about people, but sometimes you just do.”

  He giggled, letting his guard down a smidgeon. Without his mother watching over him, he loosened up. Now as he sat with me chatting, he seemed like any regular boy.

  “Does the helicopter bring you new clothes, too?” It all made sense now.

  “Yes. We order each time it comes. We order the next size up each time because I keep growing.” He brushed a curl away from his eyes before changing the subject. “How old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-two. I’ll be thirty-three in another seven months.”

  His eyes widened as if I were an ancient dinosaur, and in some ways I felt like it.

  “My turn to ask a question. Why doesn’t your mother want you to visit me?”

  Sometimes I could be too forthright for my own good. My mouth had left my brain behind.

  Daniel fidgeted and suddenly got up. “I have to go. I shouldn’t be here. If my mother or father finds me here I’ll be in big trouble. I’ll call in again when I know they are busy.”

  Without further chitchat he was gone. I mentally kicked myself for being such a dunce. Clearly there were some issues on the mother-father front that I had no business uncovering, and yet there was a consuming need to find out. Something fishy nipped at my ankles. Something I couldn’t let go. Something more than over the top rules and boundaries cast upon the sweet child. It was just a hunch but it was strong.

  It was a welcome change to put my own problems aside and focus on someone else. The rest of the afternoon was spent reflecting upon Daniel and how his trust could be gained in order to find out what was eating away at him.

  ***

  The next morning as breakfast was delivered, I was thrown a ball from left field.

  “I bring you something.”

  “Something for me? What is it?

  An early ticket out of here, hopefully!

  A pretty dress appeared from behind Jasmine’s back and was laid on the bed, neatly folded.

  “A dress? Oh Jasmine! Thank you so much.” It was just what I needed. Now I wouldn’t need to borrow a dress off Ramah. Shoes definitely, and some makeup, underwear, and a purse. Eyeing the pretty floral dress changed my mood instantly.

  “You getting better. Soon you try to walk. You need nice dress for when people see you.”

  So, what she was saying was, she didn’t want me being seen the way I was. I guess I couldn’t blame her. I must look like hell.

  “Yes. I will try soon, I promise.” That seemed to initiate a glint in Jasmine’s eyes. For an ice-queen maybe she was starting to thaw a little. I could only hope.

  ***

  All through the third week on the island, Daniel popped in for numerous visits when he was certain his parents were too busy to notice his absence. He seemed intrigued by me and tried to mimic my English as he went about perfecting his own. I loved his visits too and frequently we would tell each other jokes and then laugh for ages. We’d broken barriers.

  Daniel’s confidence and trust grew rapidly. We were fast becoming friends and so when I spotted a large purple bruise on his arm while we were practicing English one morning, I couldn’t help myself.

  “How did you do that?”

  His eyes moved to where I pointed and immediately his demeanor changed. His edginess raised my suspicions threefold. My mind began to forge its own conclusions. I asked him again.

  “How did you get the bruise? Did you fall over?”

  “Yes, that’s it! I fell over. I hit it on a rock.”

  Pupils enlarging, cheeks crimson, his eyes failed to convince me. I’d dangled the carrot and he’d snatched it from me. I’d given him an out.

  “I think my father is calling so I have to go.”

  No good-bye, just isolation again.

  One of them is definitely hiding something, but what could it be? Every time Daniel’s father is mentioned he changes into the withdrawn little boy he used to be. Jasmine only comes here when she has to and I haven’t seen another soul at all. Does anyone else really live here? Why is Daniel so mysterious and where did the bruise really come from?

  Daniel failed to visit the next day, or the two days after that. My prying had surely scared him off. I prayed that he was okay. It was lonely without him. His visits had started becoming habitual so his absence left a hole.

  I couldn’t ask Jasmine where he was as our time together was strictly secret. It would get him into more trouble than he already seemed to be in. That was something else that puzzled me.

  Why isn’t Jasmine allowed to know that Daniel visits me? If anyone else does live here, do they know I exist? Were there really other people with Daniel’s father when he rescued me? Are they so tribal that the deliverance of a white person will result in some barbaric, beheading ritual? Is Jasmine really protecting me from her own people?

  I hunted for signs in Jasmine each time the woman came to bring food but her face remained expressionless and her lips tightly sealed. It would have been easier to get information out of a brick.

  Walking was imperative if I was to u
se my exceptional sleuthing skills and solve this mystery. What better time to push myself than right now? Trying was better than not. Failing was better than not trying. My legs were my freedom. My token out of here.

  Conscientiously gripping the bamboo bed end, I eased all the weight onto one leg and stood. My right leg dangled, emaciated and limp. It hung clumsily, its only purpose to balance me. Pins and needles filled each left leg as the blood started to circulate. Not sure how the damaged leg would cope with any pressure on it, I decided to go for it.

  “Well, here goes!”

  Lowering it to the ground with all the grace of a hippo, I regretted it at once. Instantaneously a burning, smarting pain rocketed up into my pelvis. The gripping agony was so brutal that I lost my balance and tumbled over like a skittle, face first into the sand. I spit out the grit that filled my mouth, then let loose with voicing my pain. The sound seemed to reverberate off the trees and return back a second later, it was that quiet. The Republic of China would have heard the scream.

  It was no surprise to me then that Jasmine was onto it quick smart, picking me up by the arm and managing to get me back onto the bed.

  “Why you scream?”

  Frustration still simmered. “I was doing what you asked and trying to walk! I can’t do it! I can’t!”

  “You need to keep practicing. Your leg is weak from not using it. You keep trying.”

  I was crying now, not only as a result of the fall but also because of the need to get off the stupid island. Hate wasn’t a strong enough word. I missed Kyle and my family terribly. I didn’t fit in here. I was an outcast, isolated, hidden, and a burden.

  “I hate it here! I want to leave and go back to my loved ones. I need proper medical attention and at least a wheelchair to sit in so I can move about. I’ve been cooped up in this hut for what feels like a year. I’m going crazy. I need to get out. You can walk anywhere you like and aren’t stuck on a weird island with people you don’t know, confined to a bed and a space the size of a bathroom. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”