A Change of Plans

by Donna K. Weaver

  The corners of his mouth twitched, his face softening. “I will ... but only after you say it.”

  Training my eyes firmly on Braedon’s, I said, “The bastard’s name was Jace.”

  Braedon cupped my cheek in one hand and said slowly, giving each word special emphasis, “I’m. Not. Jace.” He brushed my cheek with his thumb. “I can’t change what happened, but I can promise I will never do that to you.”

  I stared at him and knew he was telling me the truth. I had seen him in the best and the worst of conditions. Of course he wouldn’t. I slid my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. As his arms pulled me close, the familiar feeling brought with it not just a sense of security but of coming home.

  He held me in silence for a minute. “You should write Jace a letter.”

  I looked at him. “Um, he’s dead.”

  “Lucky for him,” Braedon growled, and I smiled. “I’m serious about the letter. It’s therapeutic to tell the person who’s hurt you all the things you want to say.”

  Braedon had never meant so much to me. He understood me in this, maybe better than I did myself. My heart swelled. I had never thought to meet someone who could make me feel safe on so many levels. I swallowed. “We don’t have any paper.”

  “You can use some of my bark. The sand would also work, but I want you to have something you can throw away.” He grinned, a hard gleam in his eyes. “I want you to throw him away.”

  Sitting, I watched as Braedon retrieved a charred stick from the fire and some of his precious bark pieces. He went back to work on his bow while I wrote. And wrote and wrote. I filled three large sections before I had written it all.

  I told Jace I had given him my love and my trust, that I had thought his words of love and forever had been true. His actions had proved his words to be empty lies that had stolen my self-esteem and made me question if I even deserved to be loved. But he was the liar. He was the cheat. I was done with carrying his betrayal around me like chains. No more.

  The setting sun stretched our shadows to the rim of the jungle as we walked together to a large boulder on the beach. Braedon steadied me as I climbed on top of the farthest one out and chucked the bark pieces as far out as I could. As they caught the wind and flew up and then down into the waves, I felt light, like I could fly, no longer burdened by Jace’s dishonesty.

  Braedon gave me a hand down into the ankle-deep water and put his arm around my shoulders, watching with me as the ocean took the pieces away.

  “That felt good.” I turned to face him, surprised to see pride in his eyes. I thought about how he had pointed out the elderly couple, of his expression when he concentrated on a piece of music, his courage in stepping forward to check the dead captain. His unquestioning support of my plan to fight the pirates. He had never complained about my nightmares but held me until I slept again. Braedon had freed my heart.

  I reached up and cupped his face, his scruffy beard rough in my hands. The words I thought I would never say again flowed easily from my mouth, “I love you, Braedon.” I brushed his lips with mine.

  The breeze ruffled his hair, and he smiled, his look making me feel warm all over. “I love you too, my Gwendolyn.”

  I grinned as our lips met again, for once liking the sound of my name.

  CHAPTER 18

  MY EUPHORIA lasted for days, during which we nearly finished the tree house. Then one afternoon, Braedon, unusually subdued, returned with the fish for dinner.

  “I’ve got the spit ready for you.” I bounced over to him, throwing my arms around his neck to kiss him. I couldn’t seem to touch him enough, as though I had to reassure myself it wouldn’t all disappear.

  He returned my embrace, but he didn’t laugh as usual at my enthusiasm, instead giving me a preoccupied peck. Rather stiffly, he went to work on the fish. A sense of unease filled me, and I returned to cutting up the fruit. Watching him, I tried to distract myself with the thought that a true sign of love was a man who cleaned and gutted the fish himself.

  My old insecurities fought for control, but I could think of no reason why he would be upset. Plus, I had found Braedon to be the kind to get right to the point.

  He remained silent about what was bothering him all throughout our dinner, and it took all my self-control not to quiz him.

  When we had finished eating, Braedon exhaled and finally blurted it out. “I was married once. A long time ago.” He raised his eyes and met my gaze, his brows squeezed together.

  My heart jumped. Did he have kids? No, he would have mentioned children. Why had he been so worried about telling me? I covered his hand with mine. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  His shoulders relaxed. “We were both eighteen and full of ourselves about being old enough to make our own decisions. We eloped.” He shook his head. “After six months, my wife got bored playing house with a husband who spent all his time studying. She left me.”

  I grimaced. “Ouch.”

  “To be honest, it was a relief. We both knew we’d made a stupid mistake.”

  “Why did it bother you to tell me?”

  Something crossed his face I couldn’t read. “I was worried you’d think I’d been hiding something from you.”

  I slid my arms around his neck, rubbing my cheek against his beard, teasing the real kiss from him that he had deprived me of earlier. A little breathless, I whispered, “Like you said, you’re not him.”

  With a relieved grin, Braedon leaned in for another kiss.

  BRAEDON HAMMERED in the last dowel and gave the bamboo a firm push. When it didn’t move, he stepped back, scanning our work. “That’s it, then.”

  We stood for a minute with silly grins on our faces, admiring our bamboo tree house. The window openings allowed for plenty of airflow, and the large shutters would keep out most of the rain. Braedon put the hammer down and pulled a small wooden cross from the toolbox, running his fingers over it. I leaned in to read the single word carved into it: Maria.

  I took it from him, blinking. “When did you make this? It’s beautiful. I can place it while I’m out scavenging.” I took his hand. “Do you want to come today?”

  He hesitated. “I’d like to, but I’ve got some ... stuff to work on.”

  Tilting my head, I scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. He was up to something. “Stuff?”

  “One project is to work on plans for a raft.”

  I shuddered. Just thinking about going out on the water almost guaranteed me nightmares.

  Braedon put his hands on the back of my neck, his gentle touch sending shivers down my spine. “We won’t go out until you’re ready.”

  Meaning it was my job to get myself ready. I sighed and kissed him. “I’m working on it.”

  KNEELING BY the mound under the shady edge of the jungle, I surveyed my work. I gave the little cross an unnecessary nudge and smoothed out the white sand around the blossoms, breathing in their sweet fragrance.

  Would Jimmy and Maria have stayed together once the cruise was over? I sniffed, wiping my nose. I shifted around to face the ocean, staring at the waves crashing against the rocks. If we were going to get off the island, I had to remember my reasons for going on the cruise in the first place. My love of being at sea. My love of water. But all those recent ship memories just made me want to cry.

  My mind drifted to daydreams of what it would be like to go home. What would my father say when I introduced him to Braedon? A vision came to me of him sitting comfortably in a lounge chair in my parents’ backyard, chatting with my dad while he grilled burgers. Or Braedon shooting some hoops with my brother, Marc.

  And my mother—I could see her turning from Braedon to face me and fanning herself, her eyes big and round. The image made me laugh out loud. Yes. These were the things I needed to think about, to plan for, to cling to as I prepared to face the ocean again. We would get home, and all the people I loved would be together again.

  A crackling of branches behind me followed immediately by a snufflin
g noise startled me. I dashed to the water before my brain took control of my instincts, and I stopped. Peering at the heavy foliage, I couldn’t make out any animals, but the birds had quieted.

  Carefully, I bent over and picked up a decent-sized rock. I cocked my arm back, taking in a deep breath for a kiai, releasing both with as much force as I had. The birds squawked and scattered into the air, and whatever was in the jungle ran away from the noise, its departure marked by the sound of breaking twigs.

  Jogging, I headed back up the beach toward our camp. Braedon needed to know there was larger game on this end of the island.

  As I reached toward the hanging vegetation to enter our lagoon, it suddenly swished aside. With a yelp, I staggered back, nearly falling to the ground.

  Braedon poked his head around the lush foliage, his eyebrows raised. “I apologize for distressing you, my lady. You may enter.” He pointed his right arm back toward the lagoon, his left arm holding back the vines.

  I stepped past him and paused, my eyes drawn to the four burning bamboo torches. “What’s this?”

  Our work area, normally scattered with various siesta projects, had been transformed. A small bamboo table sat on a blanket of banana leaves, a coconut bowl filled with flowers set in the center.

  I looked at Braedon, who had moved beside me, and I had to cover my mouth. With the vines around him, I hadn’t noticed his wardrobe. Along with his ratty T-shirt, he wore a banana leaf bowtie. A bright purple flower peeked out his shirt pocket. His clothing, along with his nappy beard and shaggy hair, was such a contrast to my memory of him in his tuxedo that I giggled.

  Braedon raised one eyebrow, his body stiff with mock dignity. Not wanting to spoil whatever he had planned, I smoothed my features. He raised his elbow for me to take and led me to the table, seating me on a banana leaf blanket and placing one of my small woven mats on my lap.

  He set before me a clever banana leaf bowl filled with pieces of ripe pineapple. I looked up, expecting him to sit with me, but he continued to stand like a servant waiting to receive a command.

  “This is when I would need a clone,” he muttered. “I can’t be your dinner partner and waiter at the same time.”

  I reached over and ran my hand up the back of his calf. “I’d rather have you as my dinner partner. I’d rather have you as any kind of partner.”

  Braedon crossed his legs and sat on the mat to my left. Since there was only the one bowl, I pushed it between us. I picked up the chop sticks he had carved and chose a large piece of the ripe fruit, one that would come apart easily. Our eyes met as I raised the pineapple to my lips, slowly biting off the end.

  I rose on my knees and leaned in to kiss him, enjoying the shared taste of pineapple. He put a stop to it when I smushed his bow tie.

  When I finished the last bite, he stood and took the little bowl away, returning with a banana leaf plate of fruit bat meat and a mound of breadfruit. I lifted the meat and something fell on my plate.

  Braedon, who had remained standing, went down on one knee beside me. “Go ahead. Pick it up.”

  With shaking hands, I lifted the dark brown circle, turning it toward the light. At the center of the ring was a small, flattish object. The light from the torches cast it with a soft, warm cream color that changed as I tilted it toward the flame.

  He took the ring from me. My heart raced like I had just run a marathon as he lifted my left hand to his lips. “My Gwendolyn.”

  My eyes filled with tears.

  Braedon brushed a loose strand of hair from my face. “Will you marry me?”

  I threw my arms around his neck, loving the feeling of him pulling me close.

  He tilted his head to look at me. “Is that a yes?”

  “Of course it’s yes, you silly man.”

  His rough kiss made my toes tingle. He took my left hand and slid the slender wooden band on my ring finger.

  I held it up, tipping it back and forth to catch the light.

  Braedon touched it. “I can’t guarantee the pearl will stay. You’ll want to keep it somewhere safe.”

  I sighed. “It could be a very long engagement.”

  “It’s a full moon tomorrow night. Let’s exchange vows then.”

  “Isn’t that a little fast?”

  “Do you want to wait until we get off the island?” He reached over and ran his thumb down my cheek. “It won’t change the way I feel.”

  It wouldn’t make any difference to me either. I turned my face and pressed my lips against his.

  WE CELEBRATED the completion of the tree house by spending the entire afternoon the next day getting ready for the wedding, including working on vows.

  From our little tree house deck, I admired the glitter of the full moon on the water. I leaned on the railing, holding the wedding lei I had made for Braedon. He stepped up behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder, and then sliding it around my waist. I shivered.

  “There’s a little fruit bat up there to witness our nuptials.” He pointed to the top of the Banyan tree.

  I leaned my head back against him for a second, completely calm. If anyone had told me at the start of the cruise that I would be getting married in a few months, I would have laughed. So much for all the plans I had made.

  Facing him, I put the bright orange and yellow lei over his head and settled it on his shoulders, inhaling the sweet scent. He put a red and pink lei headdress on top of my head. A flower veil.

  I pulled one of the three lengths of threaded flowers over my shoulder to admire. “I think you’ve missed your calling. You should open a flower shop.”

  Braedon grunted. “If I had my phone, I could take orders.”

  Laughing, I said, “Okay. Maybe not.”

  Suddenly serious, he took my hands in his, lifting first one and then the other to his lips. “Gwendolyn Byington North, I, Braedon Fredrick Randolph, take you to be my wife and my friend, to join with you and to share what is to come, to be your faithful husband; a commitment made in love, kept in faith, and eternally made new.”

  I blinked furiously; I wanted to be able to see him. “I, Gwendolyn Byington North, take you, Braedon Fredrick Randolph, to be my husband, my friend and partner in life, my one true love. I will trust you and love you faithfully through the good times and the bad times, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love forever.”

  Braedon pulled another ring he had carved from his pocket, wider this time and with no gems, and placed it on my left hand. “As I place this ring on your finger, I commit my heart and life to you. I declare to the world that you are mine.”

  I had woven one for him from my hair. I tugged the hair ring on his finger and met his gaze. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and my faith in our strength together.”

  Braedon took my face in his hands, his thumbs moving down my cheeks, his warm lips soft as they touched mine. He slid one hand to the back of my head while dropping the other to my back, pressing me closer as he deepened the kiss.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him as I turned to putty and molded myself against him. The racing of my heart beat a harmony with his where our chests touched. He was mine, and my soul was complete.

  Putting his arm behind my knees, he lifted me and carried me through the doorway into our home.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE FIRST project after our wedding was the construction of a shower. Even though it was not as complicated to build as the house had been, it was still dirty work.

  Braedon grinned as he rubbed his skin with the poufy plant to absorb the moisture from our shower. “You were right.” His eyes danced. “We should have done this before the tree house. I definitely prefer the view.” He picked up a leaf-wrapped parcel and handed it to me.

  I unfolded it and stared at the object inside: a carved and surprisingly smooth wooden hair pick. “It’s exquisite!” I exclaimed, running my fingers over it.

  Braedon held his hand out for me to give it ba
ck, taking the end of my mass of hair.

  I tried pulling away. “My hair’s so nasty and greasy.”

  He raised one eyebrow and began gently running the pick through the strands. “Aislinn’s always had long hair, and my father never had much patience with her about it when we’d go camping. I knew you’d need this.”

  It took a long time for him to work his way up to my scalp.

  “Thank you, my husband.” I accepted the comb, running it through my hair before pulling two clumps over my shoulders for a Lady Godiva look.

  He strategically adjusted a lock of hair. “Well, my wife, I might even like this look better than that bikini of yours on the ship.”

  My face flamed at the memory. “You weren’t supposed to see me in that.”

  “That was obvious from the look on your face. That suit haunted my dreams for days.” Chuckling, he kissed me and went to work on his bowstring.

  I slipped into my damp tankini and sat down to examine Braedon’s shirt. I had agreed to mend his clothes when I found I couldn’t hit anything with an arrow.

  His clothing had gotten so threadbare I spent far too much time sewing up tears. His T-shirt was getting to be mostly stitches.

  I sighed in frustration. “If we’re here much longer, we’re going to end up in grass skirts.” We had already discovered the need for some kind of clothing. Partly for protection from the jungle, but mostly because we never got anything done otherwise.

  “Not for me, my wife. I’ll wear a manly breechcloth.” He eyed me knowingly. “We’ll have to risk it.”

  Braedon was referring to his find of a couple of days ago when he had returned from checking out the sounds I had heard by Maria’s grave. Wild boars.

  “It’s too dangerous,” I had said when he proposed we hunt them.

  “We can use the skin for clothing and I will be glad for the change in diet.” He had shot me a sly look. “They have lots of fat on them.”