Unfamiliar Waters
Page 6
“Good morning,” he said to a nearby man, hoping someone spoke English.
“Morning,” the man said in a heavy accent that sounded vaguely French, but with surprising warmth.
“I needed some supplies, and I was told there was a small store here.” Garrett looked toward the other side of the island, and the man nodded.
“Yes.” He pointed. “Go there. They can help you,” he said, his tone clipped now.
“Thank you,” Garrett said lightly, ignoring the chill, and headed in the direction indicated. Inside the small building, he found shelves lined with canned food, dried food, snacks, and candy. Nothing perishable at all, which didn’t surprise him. He did find a small stack of bottled water packs and took one to the counter.
A lady came in the door behind the counter and smiled, nodding as he added some Cheetos, because he was hungry for the damn things, as well as some cans of vegetables and fruit. She watched him and smiled as he finished gathering what he wanted. Then Garrett pulled out some US currency, and she nodded again, writing down his total.
“Thank you,” he said politely.
“You welcome,” she said, placing his purchases inside and handing Garrett a bag woven from palm fronds. He hefted the water and his other purchases, carried them to the dinghy, and placed them in the bottom. He wasn’t in a hurry, so he wandered around.
“May I help you?” a man said as he caught up with Garrett.
“I’ve been on the boat for a while and thought I would stretch my legs before leaving. I sailed into a cove on the other side of the island and met Nigel, and he told me about the village here with a store. So I thought I’d get some supplies.”
“I see,” he said very levelly, and Garrett couldn’t help noticing the tension. He wasn’t sure if it was simply because of his presence there or if it had been the mention of Nigel. “Are you leaving soon?”
“The island seems pretty. I was going to sail around it.” He smiled. “I’m Garrett, by the way.” Garrett held out his hand.
“Mantu,” he said, and shook it. “Sailing around is a bad idea. They not like it. Best to go and find another island to look at. You can stay here, but they….” He turned away. “They really not like anyone else here on the island. We leave them alone and they let us be, but they strange people.” He turned and walked away, leaving Garrett wishing he could ask him a few questions.
He wandered to the group of women, drawn by the scent coming from their fire. God, it smelled like a little spicy heaven, and he recognized the scent of Caribbean curry. One of the women patted dough flat and laid it on a griddle, like she was making a flatbread… no, more like a rustic crepe… of sorts.
“Do you like?” she asked with a gap-tooth smile.
“It smells wonderful.”
“You come, taste.” She pulled bread off the fire, filled it, and handed it to him. “Is roti.”
He took a bite and hummed his pleasure.
“Is good?”
“Very good.” The slight saltiness of the conch came through beautifully.
She motioned to a log, and Garrett sat down to finish the gift.
“You are a gifted cook.” He smiled. “I’m Garrett.”
“Maria.” She laughed lightly. “You are flatterer.” She waved her hand in his direction, laughing as she went back to her work. “You meet Mantu.”
“Yes.” Garrett hoped she’d continue to talk.
“He is leader. Good man. He not like….” Maria pointed inland. “They very different. Nigel and Jules, good boys, but rest.” She shook her head.
“Nigel said that his aunt and the village didn’t get along.”
She continued working and looked both ways, probably for eavesdroppers. Clearly this lady liked to talk, and she seemed glad to have someone new to speak to. She was exactly the kind of person Garrett had been hoping to find.
He took another bite of the roti and nodded his approval. “I think I have a new favorite food.”
Maria seemed pleased by that, and Garrett finished the snack. She glanced around her again. “Is what he tell you? She his aunt? You see her?” she asked, and Garrett shook his head. “She their aunt, and I barracuda.” She flipped her head back and cackled out loud. “She no relation to boys. You look, you see.”
“Oh, maybe I didn’t understand him right.”
“They think she aunt, but she not. There plenty strange things over there. We stay away.” She moved her hands faster, as though she were agitated. “Boys come long time ago and never leave. The others, they leave, but never boys. That not right.”
“Do you know why?” Garrett asked. “Nigel said it was because his aunt didn’t want to leave.”
“She definitely leave sometimes. I see. Boys stay and they not know she gone. They all over the island. We see them. They good boys. Others, I don’t think so good.” She grew quiet as Mantu and another approached.
Garrett figured it was time for him to be going and thanked her once again for the snack. He went to his boat, pushed it into the water, and waved goodbye to Mantu before heading to the sailboat. He loaded his supplies on board and secured the inflatable to the deck, then raised sail and the anchor before gliding out of the cove.
He stared out over the open water, steering the boat as he thought about what he’d been told. If Marie was right and Aunt Phyllis wasn’t really Nigel and Jules’s aunt, then who in the hell was she and why were they on this island? Did Nigel know she wasn’t really his aunt and just called her that? Garrett discounted that almost immediately. Nigel’s story about losing his parents and his aunt bringing him here had rung too true, and he stuck by his notion that there hadn’t been any guile in Nigel. He had no reason to lie. So if that was the case, then that left the fact that Nigel and Jules were being deceived. Garrett shivered at the thought.
“What the hell is really going on?” he asked himself. Who were this aunt and caretaker who had kept Jules and Nigel on this island for all these years?
His natural police curiosity rose to the forefront as he steered back to the sheltered cove. He couldn’t ask Nigel because it was likely he had no idea. Besides, what was he going to tell him? That his aunt wasn’t his aunt, without a shred of proof? Nigel wasn’t going to believe him. Hell, Garrett hardly believed what he’d walked into. No, he needed to keep this to himself and figure out what was going on just to try to keep Nigel safe. The thought of him being in jeopardy or hurt in any way only made him angry as hell.
Garrett gripped the wheel tightly, steering into the protected cove he’d come to think of as his and Nigel’s, dropped the anchor, and lowered the sails. What he really needed was a plan, and Garrett sat under the sunshade with a notebook to try to piece together what he knew and his plan going forward.
GARRETT SAT there for much of the afternoon, trying to figure out how he should handle this. His mind went in circles. If what he’d been told was wrong, then Garrett should keep quiet and leave Nigel alone, and he could go on with his happy life. But if what he’d been told was true and Nigel knew…? If Nigel was aware of the truth, then regardless of how weird or unusual the situation was, he could make his own decisions. So, in both those cases, Garrett should keep his nose out of it and leave Nigel alone.
But… then what if what he’d been told was true and Nigel had no idea? Then the implication was that something nefarious was going on and, to some extent, Nigel was being held prisoner there on the island. And Nigel’s innocence was being used against him. Every time Garrett’s thoughts turned in that direction, he grew angry, and once he damn near tossed his notebook overboard out of sheer frustration.
He had to find out, and there was only one way he could think of to do that. Garrett needed to follow Nigel back to his house, get a look at it, and watch things to get some sort of lay of the land. There had to be a way to find out without Nigel knowing, so Garrett could get at the truth, one way or another. Then he could help.
Garrett actually thought of going to Martinique so he could find co
mmunication facilities and call back to the station for some advice, but his captain wouldn’t be particularly happy if he knew he was getting involved with anything remotely resembling an investigation or police work. And the thought of leaving had Garrett’s heart racing, and not in a good way. His guts twisted, instinct saying not to get too far away. Nigel was already too important to him to just let go and sail off for any damned reason.
But finding answers would mean some deception, and Garrett was conflicted over that. Nigel was so without guile. He was genuine and honest in a way that so little in Garrett’s life was… and Garrett didn’t want to taint that with lying. Nigel deserved the same in return. Hell, Garrett had already told him things he’d never told anyone else… ever. Nigel brought something out in him that made him want to open up and talk.
Garrett’s ruminations continued for hours, with very little progress in any direction, except for one thing. He had to follow Nigel back to the house and watch.
As soon as Garrett made up his mind, as if by magic, Nigel stepped out of the undergrowth and waved from the beach. Garrett returned the wave, put together a bag of food, and paddled for shore. As he reached the beach, clouds thickened, blowing in off the sea, making Garrett glad he’d closed up everything on the boat.
Garrett drew the dinghy onto the sand, got out, and picked up the bag, and then they worked to secure the dinghy.
“We need to get over to the cave,” Nigel said, watching the clouds draw closer to the water.
“Okay. I’ll follow you.” They hurried toward the rockfall and made it over and inside the overhang. Garrett set down the bag, and Nigel dashed out and returned with the camping bag just as the skies opened up.
The rain pummeled the ground and water, sending up a low-level roar that seemed to come from everywhere.
“This won’t last too long.”
“Are you sure?” Garrett peered out into a wall of water pounding the sand, worrying how bad this was going to get.
“Storms this time of year never last long. They come up, rain hard, and then go away. It’s the nature of things.” Nigel set the bag toward the back. “Don’t worry. It’s just some rain.” He pulled out the ratty blanket and spread it on the ground. “I’ll make a fire with the wood that’s left from yesterday.”
“There’s some other wood, but it’s all going to be wet.”
“Get what you can, and we’ll dry it off near the fire.” Nigel grabbed the leftover wood as Garrett gathered what he could without getting drenched, dragging it under cover. “What did you do today?” Nigel asked as he worked.
“I got some supplies from the village.” Garrett wasn’t going to lie, but he didn’t intend to tell the whole truth either. “They were nice enough, and it was a pleasant sail both ways. After that, I read and figured I’d plan what I wanted to do for the next couple of days.”
“I see….” Nigel stopped feeding small branches in the fledgling flames. “And after that…?” His gaze locked with Garrett’s, and Garrett had a hard time deciphering the depth in those blue eyes. There was hurt, but also something else that he couldn’t place.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Garrett swallowed. This island and the cove were supposed to have been a port in a storm, not a place for Garrett to stay forever. “All I can say is that I’ll stay a few more days.” It wasn’t as though he wanted to hurt Nigel… not at all. So far, the plan was to see for himself that Nigel and, by extension, Jules were safe and then move on. That way he could leave without feeling like a complete heel. Was he going to leave a piece of his heart with Nigel when he went? Probably. But if he stayed around for too long, that piece was going to grow and then his heart would shatter again.
“Uh-huh.” Nigel fed some more wood onto the fire. “I should have expected that, I guess.” He turned away from Garrett, hiding his eyes—the first evasive thing Nigel had done since they’d met. Garrett wondered if he’d broken something fragile inside Nigel. “I thought you liked me.”
Shit. “I do.” Maybe he’d already stayed too long. Garrett had been worried about his own heart and getting hurt, but he knew the score and how things worked. He hadn’t meant to, but it seemed he’d played with Nigel’s heart. “But I came down here on vacation, and I will have to return home to my work.” What did Nigel realistically expect?
“I know, I guess. It was stupid of me to think that… well… things could be different than that.” Nigel set the wet wood around the fire to dry and stepped back, watching the flames without looking at Garrett.
The silence hurt more than if Nigel had yelled and gotten angry. Nigel had been open, talking, sharing, and giving of himself so freely since they met. Now he was guarded, and Garrett guessed that was something he was just starting to realize.
“I promise I won’t leave without saying goodbye, and we can talk some more if you want.”
Nigel nodded. “This is a nice place. It’s always warm, and the wind always blows to keep things comfortable.” He stood at the edge of the overhang, the rain pelting the sand just a foot from where he stood. “It rains sometimes, but the sun comes out too, and most everything you need is right here on the island.”
Damn it all, Nigel was trying to convince him to stay.
Stick to what is practical and logical—that way the emotional quagmire that seems to be opening up in front of you can be held at bay and maybe, just maybe, avoided. “Your aunt and Fairfield don’t know I’m here, do they? What would they think if they found out I was here and what we’ve been doing? I don’t think they’d be happy, and it’s doubtful I’m going to be welcome.”
Nigel nodded, turning back to him. “You’re right. They don’t know about you or your boat, and they would be angry, or at the least disappointed in me.” He bit his lower lip. “But is it wrong to want something… or someone… for myself? Everything here is shared—the house, the food. We all get what we need. But maybe I wanted something that was just mine. Is that so wrong?” The longing in his eyes was damn near frightening,
“No. We all need some things to be our own, to care for and to hold on to. I know how that feels, and I know what happens when that’s taken away.” Garrett didn’t want to go back down that road yet again. “Like I said, I’ll stay for a few more days as long as you won’t get into any trouble.”
The rain let up, lightening to a drizzle and then stopping altogether. The clouds began breaking up and the world seemed lighter, cleaner, and definitely clearer. Garrett stood next to Nigel. This was going to be hard on both of them, but it was his fault. He should have known the potential heartaches of what they were doing, even if Nigel hadn’t.
“Maybe I should leave,” Garrett said softly.
That was the last thing he wanted. This entire trip was supposed to be about him getting his head screwed on straight, and here he was, complicating things. It should have been simple: rent a boat, travel from island to island, spend time on the open sea, let some peace and quiet sink in and stress and turmoil slip away. But not a single plan for this trip seemed to have worked out the way he expected.
Nigel stared at him, blue eyes searching, even raking over him. “No. Stay. I need to accept what is happening.” He walked around the fire and sat down on the blanket.
Garrett grabbed the bag of food, set it on the blanket as well, and pulled out what he’d brought. The sun disappeared once again, and soon it was raining, only this time not as hard. Still, neither of them would be going anywhere soon, unless they wanted to get soaked to the skin, so they sat together and ate slowly.
“Isn’t your aunt going to worry about you out in this weather?”
“I don’t think the rain will last much longer. I told her I would be camping again.” Nigel smiled and swept his hand toward the entrance. “It is only water—it will not hurt me. I’ve camped in weather like this before. If it’s windy or stormy, that’s different, and then I have to stay in the house.” He made a face. “My aunt is nice enough, and she’s taken care of Jules and me for a long tim
e, but sometimes….” He turned to look out at the ever-lightening sky and water.
“What?” Garrett set a paper plate on the blanket and pulled out some crackers.
Nigel took one and munched on it absently. “I used to sit here, looking out at the water, wondering what was out there.” He pivoted around. “I’ve read hundreds, maybe thousands, of books, and in some way, all of them describe what the world looks like out there. I want to see it. I asked Aunt Phyllis about it, and she said the rest of the world is an ugly place, filled with selfish people who wouldn’t understand me. She told me I was safe here and had everything I needed. Then she started to cry and asked if I was really that unhappy.” He blinked and sighed.
“When was that?” Garrett asked.
“Last night. I have asked her about the outside world before, but last night, I asked when she thought Jules and I could leave the island. She said he and I were safer here.”
Garrett took his hand. “Do you really want to leave?”
Nigel didn’t answer or move for quite a while. “Maybe. I don’t really know. I guess I’d like the choice, but I don’t think I’m going to get one. Jules isn’t going anywhere because he’s still too young to leave, and I’m not going to leave him here alone.” His shoulders slumped, and he pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them for comfort. “Dammit. I used to think I could live here forever, and….” He curled his lip upward. “Look what you did.”
“Yeah, I know…,” Garrett said.
Nigel grinned. “I was joking. You didn’t do anything other than stay here and be my friend.” He scooted closer. “I always wondered what it would be like somewhere else, but it was never that important. I always had whatever I really wanted here.” He unhooked his hands and touched Garrett’s cheek. “But now I know that there’s more… out there….”
The softness in Nigel’s eyes touched Garrett’s heart with a gentle caress that spread heat through the rest of him. Garrett longed to tell him just what was out there and the things he’d seen. For a second he wondered if he should tell Nigel that he agreed with his aunt, that the world was ugly. Garrett had seen just about everything awful a person could do to someone else. Then he paused, because he’d also experienced love and happiness, which he wouldn’t trade anything for.