Island (Portentous Destiny Series Book 1)

by S. E. Rose

  Island

  Portentous Destiny Series Book One

  By S.E. Rose

  Copyright © 2018 S. E. Rose

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.seroseauthor.com

  Cover created by Cover It! Designs.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Each book in this series primarily takes place in real locations where the author has previously visited. However, aside from names of countries and cities, the places are described in a fictional manner. The author has drawn from her personal experiences to describe these locations, but also uses fictitious embellishments for the purposes of the story.

  This book contains descriptions of adult relationships and violence as well as derogatory language. If such things offend you, this book is not for you. The book is intended for mature readers.

  To my family for letting me bounce ideas off you and for letting me hide in my room, so I could work on my book.

  To Sarah, Nick, and Evette for taking the time to critique my work and help this book be so much better than it was.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Interlude

  Laura’s Playlist:

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Beginning of August

  Laura’s Playlist: “A Bad Dream” by Keane

  As I open one eye, I can see the sunlight starting to creep across the sky in a small line above the water. My face is half-buried in a pillow and half-facing the open window. The fresh sea breeze gently blows in, filling my nostrils and making me want to eat and curl deeper under my blanket.

  It is a little too early to go for my morning walk and meditation ritual, so perhaps a few more minutes lying in bed wouldn’t hurt anything. I breathe in deeply and close my eye again.

  It is as I lie there breathing in the salty sea breeze that I hear a noise. My eyes shoot open and I gaze out the window. The cottage is a mere one hundred feet from a walking path along the North Sea. It was far enough from town that there had been very few people out here over the past few weeks. The cliffs of the shoreline are several feet farther out from the path and then the sea lies beneath.

  My eyes readjust to the barely visible light outside and I can just make out a figure on the path. Whoever it is stands there looking at the cottage. My skin prickles as I realize that someone is watching me. Of course, it is too dark to see inside, or is it? Had I locked the door last night? I had not been locking the door. The cottage is two miles from town or a twenty-minute drive by car on winding back roads. Who is there? Maybe it’s Jack? But it seems much too early for him. I blink and look again as a million thoughts begin flying through my head and my imagination at this early hour begins working double time.

  Squinting in the darkness, I see that the person is holding something. But I can’t make it out, a bag, a suitcase, what? Slowly I roll out of bed. I am used to having my cat lying next to me, so I move cautiously. After a minute, I chide myself, remembering he isn’t there. I position myself to look out a nearby window that is closed, but when I get there the figure is gone. I stand staring out the window and decide to investigate further. I realize I need something to protect myself. Glancing around the room, I see a hiking stick in the corner and grab it. I quickly shut all the windows and lock the back door. And then very slowly I turn the handle on the front door and peek my head around it. The sunlight is starting to invade the night sky now and I can see a little better than before. There is no one there. I push the door farther open, and holding the hiking stick in my right hand like a bat, I very slowly step out onto the front path. I swivel around quickly assessing that no one is against the house and then continue walking toward the hiking path out front. There are woods about a quarter mile behind the house but the forest ends abruptly on either side with fields cutting into it. There are very few trees in the forest as it is maybe an eighth of a mile wide and a quarter mile deep. It is dark in there and I can’t see anything but the treetops. I scan the trail looking right and left. I see no one. I peer down over the cliff and watch the sea crash against the rocky coast below. A little ways down from me, there is a small fishing boat not far from the breaking waves. There is a light coming from it, maybe a flashlight or a small lantern, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone on it. Strange, I think to myself. Perhaps my eyes are playing tricks on me. I decide to go lock the door and head back to watch the boat until the sun reveals whether it has an occupant or not.

  I turn and walk the short distance back to the cottage while continuing to scan my surroundings for movement, nothing. I open the door and grab the key from the hook. Then I shut the door and lock it before heading back down to the cliff. Now I can clearly see the bright orange glow of the sun just starting to peek up over the horizon. I glance back down toward the boat, but it is gone. I look out at the sea, no boat. I look up and down the jagged coastline and see nothing. How is this possible, it was just here? It hadn’t even taken me five minutes to walk back and forth from the house.

  I look back at the sea. It is choppy and I wonder if perhaps the boat is out there, and I just can’t see it over the waves. I scan the waters again and again and see nothing except the rolling white tips of each wave. Finally, as the full sun makes its way over the horizon, I turn and walk back to the cottage.

  I lock the front door behind me and decide to make tea. I throw on my yoga pants and a t-shirt. I’ll wait for Jack before going to walk today. I always walked to the left for some reason and pass him while he goes in the other direction, away from town. I don’t like the idea of going right, as the grass in the fields is taller in that direction and I am not able to see people coming toward me. My city girl instincts have always told me to stay where I can see my surroundings.

  I put the kettle on while I pull the tea out of the cupboard. I stare at the window, willing Jack to appear. The whistling of the tea kettle startles me and I jump. Sighing at my irrational fear, I pour the water into my teacup and continue staring out the window.

  The minutes tick by slowly. Being so far north, the sun rises very early and it makes me wake when I should be sleeping. I normally wake at 6:30 a.m. at home, but here I had gotten up with bright sunshine each morning by 5:00 a.m. I peer over at the clock on the microwav
e, 6:45 a.m. I have been standing there for over an hour and still no Jack. Jack is methodical, since the first day I saw him, he always passes my cottage at 6:50 a.m., just a few minutes after I leave for my morning stroll. We pass each other not far down the path from the cottage, so that it is still in plain view as we speak. Sometimes, if I am fast enough, I make it to a big rock near the path where I lay out my travel yoga blanket and meditate to the sound of the sea below.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. I begin to feel like a schoolgirl waiting for the bell to ring at the end of a long day. Come on, Jack, come on, where are you?

  I don’t bother looking out at the woods as I know my eyes would play tricks on me against the darkness of the forest. Alright, Laura, you are now officially being ridiculous, I think to myself. It could have just been a local going for an early morning walk. It could have been the priest, sometimes he does walk up this way although he hadn’t ever come up this far, but maybe he did today. It could be a backpacker walking the coastal trails. It’s not like the person tried to come into the cottage. And the boat, maybe it sped away and I couldn’t see it between the waves. Sure, that’s right, no big deal. But deep down, I know better. With everything that is happening, I know perfectly well who it might be and that thought sends a shiver down my spine.

  I look once more at the clock—6:51 a.m. Jack is never late. He is as predictable as the sunrise or the phases of the moon. I have only known him for ten weeks, but this I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. I glance at my phone and contemplate calling Oliver. Too early. I decide on a text instead. Wait, no, I’ll text Jack. If he didn’t go for his walk then he will be home and he will have his phone. I slap my head for not having thought of this earlier.

  Laura: I just wanted 2 make sure u r ok. I didn’t c u this morning.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock.

  Nothing. I look at my phone—7:20 a.m. Time to text Oliver.

  Laura: Jack never came by today and he isn’t replying to my txt. Do u know if he is OK?

  I wait and wait for what seems like an eternity. And then my phone buzzes.

  Oliver: Don’t know. Haven’t seen him since last night. I saw him pull in when I was checking the gate. I’m sure he is fine. I’ll txt him.

  I wait some more and then feel the buzzing and look down.

  Oliver: His lights are off and he doesn’t answer the door. I’m going to walk the trail and make sure he didn’t fall. I will come by the cottage on my way.

  I look out the window at the morning sun and blue sky. Birds chirp in the distance. It is still outside, too still. Jack, where are you?

  Chapter 1

  10 weeks earlier

  Laura’s Playlist: “Always Happens Like That” by Kaiser Chiefs

  “Mommmm!!!”

  I hear the exasperated yell of my daughter coming from the foyer of my condo. I internally groan and walk to the top of the stairs. I look down at her with the face that only a mother gives her child when she is two seconds away from completely losing her shit.

  “What?!” I snap way too loudly for being that close to her.

  “Geez, just wondering if you are ready yet,” she says with an innocent smile. I know all too well that she is completely annoyed that I am taking this long and she would rather be prepping to go out with her friends.

  “Come on, Lil, let Mom be. She’s gotta pack enough for three months. I mean seriously, if that were you we’d be here for a week waiting and you would come down with a train full of bags,” says my son from the family room. I know all too well that he is lying on my couch with his shoes on and my pillows scrunched up under his head. There was a time when I would have gone insane at this point because I had only asked him five million times not to put his shoes on the furniture and not to wad up my pillows. The empty nester in me smiles fondly at the familiar scene that unfolds downstairs as I toss a few final items into my carry-on bag.

  I stop and take a deep breath and look around my room. I glance down at the list I have laid on my pillow and mentally run through it again. OK, I think I have everything. I know this feeling all too well. I know I’m going to forget something, something that is very obvious and I will feel like a jackass when I arrive at my destination without…what am I forgetting, bra, underwear, meds, face soap, what?? I sigh. Really, I’ve only been to Great Britain about ten times. I am certain that if I forget something it will be something that I can pick up at the local Boots pharmacy or Marks and Spencer (Marks and Sparks as my friends and I learned to affectionately call it back in our university days).

  I nod to myself and zip up my bag, squishing my travel pillow in as much as I can to get the zipper to shut all the way. I take the list and toss it in the trash and look around once more. The timer lights are on, everything is unplugged, the thermostat is set to seventy-five, and my neighbor has my extra key.

  “OK, let’s do this,” I say, trying to mentally psych myself up for my latest adventure. No matter how many times I have traveled and many to much more exotic and far-off places than this one, I always get anxious as I’m about to depart. I second-guess my decision to leave. However, as soon as I arrive at the airport all will be forgotten and I will have tunnel vision focused on getting to my location.

  I shut my bedroom door and head downstairs. Sure as shit, my daughter, Lily, is pacing the foyer with her phone in hand. She types a million miles a minute, clearly texting her friends. And my son is exactly where I thought he’d be, on my couch, shoes on one pillow and head on the other.

  “Nicky, please, for the love of God, get your shoes off my pillow!” I scold with added exasperation in my voice. He grins at me and removes his feet, fluffing the pillow as he moves.

  “See, good as new.” He laughs as he gets up and surveys his handiwork. I stand with my hands on my hips and glance in the direction of the pillow that was wadded up under his head. He chuckles and fluffs that pillow as well before walking to meet me. He wraps his arms around me and gives me a big hug. It is a strange feeling. My son is now a half foot taller than me and he is a man, but in my head, he will always be a chubby-cheeked little boy running around with food permanently smeared on his face and dirt on his clothes.

  “Ready, Mom?” he asks.

  “As ready as I can be,” I reply and toss my carry-on bag over my shoulder. “Hagrid, where are you?”

  A giant black cat comes running at the sound of his name and I can hear his motor from ten feet away. He meows at me, walking slowly up to my leg and rubs his face against it. I reach out and pick him up with two hands, because he’s that big of a cat. I set him down on the small table in the foyer and remove a treat from my pocket. Now Hagrid isn’t a stupid cat, so not only did I have to put his sleeping pill in a pill pocket, I then had to crush his favorite treats and roll the pill pocket in those. The result is a giant treat fit for a giant cat. I set it on my hand and hold it in front of him. He looks at me quizzically, as though to say, “Woman, really, I am not that stupid.” But then he catches a whiff of his favorite treat, and after a sniff, he gulps it down in one bite. I scratch behind his ears and in between his shoulder blades before picking him up and easing him into the cat carrier that Lily is holding open for me.

  “OK, let’s get this show on the road,” I announce, smiling at my two children as they each pick up a suitcase and schlep it out the front door.

  We arrive at the airport quickly, as it is 7:30 p.m. and rush hour is nearly over. I give each kid a strong hug and kiss goodbye and then put my backpack on, place the strap of Hagrid’s cat carrier on my shoulder, and grab the handle of each suitcase. I bark out some last-minute reminders and as true to their personalities my daughter is ushering me into the airport and my son is standing waving goodbye.

  I am through check-in and security faster than I anticipated. I splurged and upgraded myself to first class for the long overnight flight, so I am privy to the first-class lounge as I sit and wait for my flight. I pull out my laptop and start typing. I might as well get something done while
I am biding my time. I sip the coffee from the lounge and contemplate my storyline. After what feels like just a few minutes, I glance at the time, thirty minutes till boarding. I give up on writing and check my email, my social media accounts and then text a final goodbye to my mom, my brother, and my kids with the typical mom reminders that I am sure they are all too familiar with having heard them for the past two decades.

  I close out of my apps and stare at the photo that fills the background of my computer screen. It is a happy day; we are all dressed up for a friend’s wedding. Lily, Nick, my late husband, Sean, and I are smiling and laughing in the photo. It is the last one taken of all of us. I smile at it with a mix of incredible sadness and happiness. Sean has an arm around me and we each have an arm around a child. I close my eyes relishing the lingering memory of his arm around me and the joy I felt at that particular moment. It was only five weeks later that Sean was gone.

  I press the power button on the computer and it shuts down. I place it back in the backpack and check on Hagrid who is now fast asleep, curled up in a blanket. It has been entirely too long since I was back in Great Britain. Scotland and England are my home away from home. After spending a semester abroad there in college, I left feeling as though I was leaving my soul behind. Since then, I have a strange feeling of completeness only when I am there. I often wonder if it’s something in my genetics, or if it is just a kinship I acquired after an amazing six months of living there so many years ago. Either way, I am ready to go home and spend three months in the mother country working on my latest novel. I pick up my cat and my bag and head toward the departure gate.

  Chapter 2

  Laura’s Playlist: “Dreams” by The Cranberries

  It’s very early in the morning when I arrive at Glasgow International Airport. I am somewhat groggy having only slept about five hours of the flight. I had wanted to fly into London first, but decided against it, knowing that I would want to stay there with all of its distractions. Yes, I need to get out to the countryside and away from the hustle and bustle that I so crave. I find my bags at the luggage carousel and then head towards the car rental.