by Andrew Grey
“What do you think?”
“About the outside world? I think when you’re ready, you and Jules will need to find out for yourselves.” It was a cop-out answer and he knew it. What could he say? Offer to take Nigel on his boat and just sail away? He curled his lips upward at the idea, actually smiling as he thought of spending days on the water with Nigel… and nights tucked up in bed together, the rocking of the boat covering up the way they played each other’s bodies like fine violins. Garrett sighed. Maybe there was something to this lone, tropical-island living.
Nigel rolled his eyes, and Garrett got a view of just how young Nigel was. “I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were. But sometimes things happen in their own time.” Garrett munched on a cracker and some cheese, watching Nigel closely, studying the line of his jaw and the light in his eyes, even as the sunlight from the clearing skies faded. Nigel added some wood to the fire, while Garrett dug into the bag and pulled out some Oreos. He handed one to Nigel, who looked at it as though it was something that had washed up on the beach. He smelled it and took a bite, then smiled and ate the rest. Of course, then Garrett had to show him how to untwist and eat them properly.
Garrett tried to imagine never having contact with the outside world. This island had to be some kind of ideal. There was no crime, no real danger, tropical breezes, the water and beach… what the heck more could anyone really want? Garrett lay back on the blanket, studying the rock ledge overhead. Its jagged, dark layers grew deeper as the sunlight faded, eventually reflecting light from the fire, bright daggers dancing off them.
“I came here because my life was a mess,” he said quietly, placing his hands under his head. “I had really messed things up.”
Nigel grabbed some more cookies, the bag rustling, before he lay down as well and rested his arm across Garrett’s chest. “Really?”
“I almost shot someone.” Garrett closed his eyes. “An unarmed man. I thought he had a gun—I could see it in his hand. I really could… or thought I did. But there was nothing there… not really. The captain thought I’d been working too hard, but I’d been working to forget.”
“David?” Nigel asked, and Garrett wound his arm around Nigel’s shoulders.
“Yeah. It was hard being alone and missing him all the time, so I worked to try to forget. And then I think I forgot how to not work and just took as many shifts as I could. Sometimes I worked until I couldn’t stand up anymore.” Garrett heaved a deep breath of tropical air and released it, trying to make himself feel clean again. “If I was alone and awake, I used to think about David, so I made sure I was too tired to do that.”
“What about now?” Nigel gently patted Garrett’s belly.
Garrett hesitated. “Now, things are different.” He lay still, the gentleness in Nigel’s caress soothing some broken part of him. It was hard to describe it, but Nigel’s care and simple human kindness seemed to be stitching parts of his shattered being back together. “I don’t feel as frantic or wound up, and there’s nothing for me to hide behind here.”
“I know. I spend a lot of time alone.” Nigel turned onto his side. “So I know who I am and the person I want to be. There is no one to lie to here… including myself.”
And maybe that was the most naive, yet profoundly enlightened, thought Garrett had ever heard.
“I can’t see you hiding anything.” Garrett opened his eyes to find Nigel’s gaze drilling into him.
“You need honesty… like me.” Nigel patted Garrett’s chest as though he had all the answers to the universe’s grand questions. “You must stop running and let yourself be caught.” He leaned closer. “It’s like when you hit your toe. It hurts, but you feel it, and you jump around and swear maybe. But then the pain fades and your toe turns ugly colors, and finally it heals and everything is all right.”
Garrett chuckled as he tried to follow Nigel’s point, his mind running at a slower speed than usual. “I think you’re going to have to help me a little more than that.”
“You are the toe,” Nigel said seriously.
“Are you saying I’m stinky, like feet?”
Nigel laughed. “No. I’m saying you are the toe that got hurt, but you never jumped around or swore. You went to work. You never got all black-and-blue, and then you never healed.” He cocked his eyebrows slightly. “You needed to let yourself feel the pain of loss so you could let it go. And Aunt Phyllis says that this is the best place to be when you’re hurting. I think that’s part of the reason why she brought me and Jules here. So we could heal.” He had this clear glow in his eyes, like he was sure of the world and everything in it. Maybe he was. After all, Nigel’s world and worries consisted of caring for his underwater collection of conches and protecting sea turtle eggs.
A spike of cold went through his chest. Garrett already had the feeling that things weren’t quite as they appeared on this island. Now he wondered if he would be better off leaving things as they were. So what if Aunt Phyllis didn’t look like Jules or Nigel? What if she wasn’t their aunt? Nigel seemed happy and contented here. Who was he to intrude on that? This island was a break… a refuge from the worries and pain of the outside world, and by following Nigel to investigate, what if he was wrong about this whole situation and brought the outside world here in full force? What was going to harm Nigel more?
“Where did you go?” Nigel asked. “You were all scrunched and stiff.”
Garrett chuckled. “Sorry. I guess maybe that was part of the black-and-blue-toe thing you were talking about.” He tried to silence the conflict raging inside him. Whatever was happening here was none of his business. But the cop in him, once stirred, was itching to move forward. Part of him had to know, and yet… there were consequences to his actions, and one of them could very well be destroying Nigel’s happiness. “I need to learn to let shit go.”
Nigel snickered. “You better. It stinks.” He held his nose, and Garrett laughed.
“It’s just a saying. It means I need to stop worrying.”
“Uh-huh.” The rain had stopped a while ago, but water still dripped down the face of the overhanging rocks onto the sand. Nigel sat up to add some more wood to the fire. “When you go back, will the things that hurt… will they not still be there?”
Garrett wished he had an answer for that. “I suppose they will. But sometimes it isn’t the problems that matter, but how we look at them.” He hoped he’d be in a better headspace and then could move on.
Nigel leaned closer. “If you stayed here, then they would stay away and you could be happy.”
It was a lovely thought, and at the moment, it was tempting to give the rest of the world a great big “fuck off.” Hell, Garrett figured he could stay right here, under this outcropping, and be happy for a long time… as long as he had company.
“You know that isn’t really possible. Your aunt. How would she feel? From what you’ve said, she doesn’t take a liking to strangers.”
Nigel sighed. “I know. I just don’t want you to go.”
“I know.” Garrett wasn’t looking forward to pulling up anchor and heading back out into the sea, but sooner or later, he would need to go, and Garrett suspected that sooner might be better. The longer he stayed, the more both of them were likely to get attached. “But—”
Nigel hummed and cut him off with a kiss. Leaving the words unsaid wasn’t going to change anything… for either of them. But if it made Nigel feel better, then Garrett wouldn’t challenge him.
Night fell around them and the fire grew dim. Garrett wasn’t sure what he should do, but Nigel seemed to have ideas of his own, and once the flames of the fire lowered, Nigel added a few pieces of wood before slowly climbing onto Garret. Part of him wanted to resist, but Nigel’s boundless energy and excitement swept that away. This was a very bad idea… at least logically, but his heart had already reached out to Nigel, and the heart wanted what it wanted… and he’d just started listening to it again.
GARRETT WOKE naked under the blan
ket, alone.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I have to get back,” Nigel told him, kneeling nearby.
Garrett pushed back the covers, yawning as he stretched his back, looking for his clothes. They hadn’t been very discriminating about where they tossed them in the darkness, and Garrett shook the sand out of them before slipping them on. “I’ll help you put everything away.”
Once he was dressed, he helped fold things up, and Nigel filled the duffel and placed it back in its spot outside the overhang. After climbing over the rockfall, Nigel kissed him goodbye and hurried off.
Garrett watched after him, his curiosity warring with discretion. “Oh, fuck it,” he groaned, and took off into the woods after Nigel.
The path was fairly well worn and easy to follow for most of the way. Garrett kept quiet and went slowly, trying to remain hidden. The last thing he wanted was for Nigel to discover him. The forest was filled with scurries and rustles. Garrett concentrated and did his best not to get riled or spooked. On either side of him, the jungle thickened within a foot, so all he could see was a tunnel of green in front of him. Branches covered part of the path, and he moved them aside, stepping over limbs and fronds, until he spotted an off-white house, the paint weathered and worn in places. He could just make out the outlines of the building between breaks in the undergrowth. He didn’t want to get too close. It seemed he had come up on the back of the house.
“Nigel, where were you?” said a teenager, probably Jules, as he raced up to Nigel at the front corner of the house. “I think the turtles are hatching. I can see movement in the sand. Do you want to come see?”
Garrett slowly moved closer, checking around him as he settled into the undergrowth, hoping to hell these plants didn’t have prickers. Jules looked much as Garrett imagined him: a smaller version of Nigel, with the same blond hair and slender build. Jules was going to be handsome when he got older. Garrett’s attention shifted to Nigel just as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Garrett didn’t hear his answer, so he made his way around to the side of the house, staying under cover.
No one seemed to be around, and the surf pounded the beach nearby. That gave him cover for making noise, but it also made it hard for him to hear anything. Part of him wanted to see where Nigel and Garrett had gone, but they weren’t really the objects of this visit. He went back the way he came and around to the other side of the house. A forty-foot cleared area near the building there made it hard for him to get too close without being seen.
Garrett wished he knew the layout of the building and where the others might be. It was still early in the day. He carefully sat under cover, with his back to Jules and Nigel’s last location. Then he settled in to wait.
After about ten minutes, he wished he’d changed his pants before coming out here. Garrett swatted insects away from his legs and arms, doing his best to ignore them while continuing to watch, even as the heat of the day built. Sweat ran down his arms and forehead, and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to stay here much longer without being eaten alive and roasted in the heat. Besides, sitting here wasn’t getting him anywhere. There was no one about, and as far as he could see, no one moving inside.
He went around the back of the house, where there were few windows, keeping low, and skittered up against the building. He stayed under the windows, rising up just enough to hear if anyone was inside. He didn’t hear any voices or movement, so Garrett continued around toward the front side of the house and crept under the windows. Humming reached his ears, soft and gentle. He was able to peer in just enough to see a woman in her forties, with jet-black hair and olive skin, sitting in a chair, rocking slowly as she did needlework. That must have been Aunt Phyllis, and Garrett had to agree with the lady in the village—she didn’t look like Nigel or Jules in the least. Granted, that didn’t mean she wasn’t their aunt by marriage.
“Where have you been?” she asked, and Garrett slid lower against the house, staying out of sight under the window.
“Just checking on our charges,” a man’s voice said dryly. “Nigel has been camping out a lot lately. I wanted to make sure he’s not sneaking over to the village.”
“Has he been seen there?” Phyllis asked, and the man Garrett assumed was Fairfield didn’t answer. “I know you have friends there.”
Shit, Garrett had been careful when he visited and acted like he was leaving. He hoped the villagers had bought it and hadn’t thought too much of his appearance.
“No. He hasn’t. Someone else was—stopped for supplies and then left again, toward Martinique.” He didn’t seem concerned and there was no fear in his voice. “But—”
“What?” Something clinked on what sounded like glass.
“I followed Nigel yesterday, at least as far as the denser undergrowth. He said he was camping near Overlook Rock, but he went in the other direction.” Suspicion rose in his voice, and Garrett felt his hackles rise. “I don’t like it when he isn’t truthful, and the other day, I thought I saw a sail approaching the island. If we have visitors and if they’ve talked with Nigel….”
“Come on. He knows nothing at all about anything. He’s been here for over a decade. You’re paranoid, and it’s been getting worse for the last year. Relax and let them have the run of the island. It isn’t as though they can get off or go anywhere. Let them be.”
Garrett dared a quick look. A man, probably Fairfield, paced the room while Aunt Phyllis sat in her chair.
“I made a call, and others don’t necessarily share your optimism, Aunt Phyllis,” Fairfield snarled. Clearly the two of them didn’t always get along. The derision in his tone left Garrett cold.
These people didn’t have Jules and Nigel’s best interests at heart. Someone else was pulling the strings.
“Those boys haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, and you know it.” The chair creaked, and Garrett pressed to the wall as he heard someone approach the window. “Just because you don’t want to be here any longer is no reason to cause trouble for the rest of us.” Her voice came from right above him. “Go and get yourself an Irish coffee or something and leave me and them alone.” Now it was her turn to be derisive. “Or maybe I’ll call and suggest that you need to be replaced. And you know what will happen then.” She banged her hand on the windowsill.
“Bitch,” Fairfield grumbled, and the door to the room opened and closed.
Phyllis stayed where she was, and Garrett’s legs began to ache. He hoped to hell she moved soon or he would end up falling into a heap when his knees gave out, and then all hell would break loose.
“Aunt Phyllis!” Jules called as heavy footsteps raced into the room. “You have to come see! The turtles are hatching! They’re emerging from the sand and swimming away. I wish I could keep one, but….” More footsteps followed, and then it was quiet again.
Garrett hurried back toward the foliage and under cover. He listened for some sort of uproar, but none followed. Garrett figured he’d pressed his luck already and it was time to go.
Some serious shit was going on, but he didn’t know what it was. It seemed to him that Phyllis and Fairfield were here to watch the boys, maybe even hold them prisoner. Garrett had seen some fucked-up things, but this was weird on a whole new scale.
Part of him wanted to get the hell out of this looney bin. But he couldn’t leave Nigel and Jules to the mercy of these people. He had to talk to Nigel and hope he could convince him. Maybe if he was persuasive, he could get the two of them onto his boat and away from here before the others found out. That would be a tall order, because Nigel was unlikely to believe him. It had been very clear from their conversations that he believed Phyllis—if that was her real name—to be his aunt, something Garrett now doubted was possible at all.
“That was so fun!” Jules said as he hurried along the path, his excitement ringing through the air. “They all just climbed out of the sand and into the waves. I thought there would be more to it than that, but nope.”
“Did
you check the nest?” Nigel asked.
“Yeah. There were a few who didn’t make it. That’s so sad.” Jules stepped out of the trees, with Nigel behind him. “I suppose that’s the survival of the fittest and all that. Only the strongest make it to the sea so they have a chance against all the predators and things.” They stopped at the edge of the clearing near the house. “Now that I’m not going to be watching out for the eggs, what should I do?” He seemed a little lost.
“Why don’t you check the beach for other nests? There are sure to be some. Or you could go fishing.” Neither of Nigel’s suggestions seemed to hold any interest, judging by Jules’s disinterested body language. “There’s plenty you can do.”
“Nigel….” Jules shifted his weight from foot to foot, practically hopping.
“You could read some more. I’ll set up a program for you for the next couple of weeks.” Nigel looked sternly at Jules, who seemed about as interested as a kid going to the dentist. “I know you’d rather be out on the beach, but we have to learn about other things too.” Nigel passed right in front of Garrett and rounded the corner of the house, his voice fading away.
Garrett figured now was as good a time as any, so he moved away from the house and headed toward the cove as quickly as he could. He reached the beach, grabbed the dinghy from where they’d stashed it, and headed out to the boat. Once back on board, he pulled up the dinghy and secured it to the deck before picking up his notebook and sitting in the shade. Garrett wrote down what he’d heard before the memories faded, as well as his impressions. He tried reconciling it with what Nigel had told him, but Nigel’s story had holes the size of a Mack truck. He made up his mind that when he saw Nigel again, he would tell him what he’d heard.
Garrett checked the boat over as he walked the deck. There was no way in hell that Nigel would believe him or take him seriously. He had spent years with his so-called aunt, and she’d had plenty of time to earn his trust. Hell, Nigel probably loved her and wasn’t going to turn his back on her. Garrett paused and sighed, wishing he had a way to keep an eye on Nigel.