The Paradise Box Set

by Pike, Leslie

  “Good shot, Butch Cassidy,” he says.

  “That BB. She’s one hell of a good teacher.”

  We only take a minute to compose ourselves, and then we’re off. We don’t have the luxury of time. We move quickly and don’t waste our energy on unnecessary conversation. My entire body’s on high alert, and I feel like there’s no room for error now. It’s almost as if I can hear Esme calling me. Paul is as dialed in as I am. And when we get within a few yards of the back of the cabin, I know our determination has paid off. I turn to Paul and put my finger over my lips, to signal we need to be silent. I don’t know if they’re inside, or in the front of the cabin, or what. He catches my meaning and slows his run to a crawl. He makes a sign, telling me he’s going around the house, to the other side. I nod.

  When we meet around the front, it’s evident something’s happened here. The broken glass from the window lies scattered across the porch. The front door is moving back and forth with the breeze and obvious tracks lead away into the trees.

  “They’re gone. But they were here,” I say.

  Paul moves to the porch, ahead of me. He peers into the cabin.

  “It’s empty.”

  “Look at this.”

  I point out the blood-stained bits of glass around the window pane. I get the radio out. Paul goes into the cabin, as I stay outside trying to get the clearest connection.

  “Vinnie. We found something. Over,” I say.

  The radio signals the connection.

  What’d you find? Over,” Vinnie responds.

  “They were here at the cabin. But they’re gone now. There’s blood and evidence she may have got away from him. I think one of them is on an ATV. Over.”

  “Ok. We’re pretty close. About another ten minutes. Over.”

  “We’re going to head toward the Rectory, but we’ll see where the signs lead us. Over,” I say.

  “Roger that. Be careful, Finn. And don’t get in our way. I’m calling the team and the dogs to your location. You’ll have company in about half an hour. Over.”

  As soon as the call is finished, I go into the cabin. Paul’s studying the scene, and before I can see for myself, I notice the disturbed look on his face.

  “You might not want to see this, brother. Let’s just go. There’s nothing here that will help us,” Paul says.

  But that’s not going to stop me. I’ve got to look. There’s a pool of dried blood on the floor, next to the opened closet. Two teeth lie stuck in the substance. I kick them over with the toe of my boot.

  “These are too big to be hers,” I say.

  An overturned backpack lies on the wooden table, and a man’s jacket is thrown over the chair. But then I spot the most disturbing sight, the one that will haunt me for the rest of my life. A huge rubber dildo with a bumpy surface has fallen to the floor. It’s covered in dried blood. I feel a cold chill run up my spine. For a few seconds I almost feel as if I’m going to pass out. Oh my girl, what did he do to you? The darkest part of me rises up in anger. The part I never really knew existed. When I find Kevin, I’m going to kill that mother fucker.

  I feel my cell phone vibrate, and it shocks me out of my dark thoughts. I bring it from my pocket. It’s a text. There’s just one word, “blue.”

  “She’s alive, Paul.”

  I show him the text. Neither one of us recognizes the cell number, but we know it must be his phone. She must have his phone. Is he with her? Or is she running from him? I check the time the text was sent.

  “She sent this three hours ago. She must not have had service. Let’s get going,” I say.

  Outside, the fresh air hits my face, and brings me back to the present. I start running. I can hear Paul, keeping pace behind me. Esme’s still alive. Thank you, God. She’s still alive. Please make it true. We follow the tracks of the vehicle. At least now we have something to direct us. We run as if every minute counts, because we know it does. She’s been out here for hours now, alone afraid and injured. The blood told us that. I can hear the copter now, not far from where we are. It’s getting closer. I hear the static of the radio and the sound of the blades. They’re hovering somewhere close.

  “Finn, we have something! Does Esme have a bright pink bra?” Vinnie says.

  Paul and I stop to collect our breath.

  “What?” I say.

  “Esme. Does she own a bright pink bra? We see one on top of a tree. I think she left a sign.”

  “Yeah! She does. She was wearing one yesterday.”

  “Ok. We’re going to look for a spot to put down,” Vinnie says.

  Tears start running down my face. She’s using Sister Letitia’s tricks. My smart girl. We keep moving. The ATV tracks veer off, onto an open trail. We follow. I can’t see any footprints, so it doesn’t look like Esme came this way. But if he’s following her, our best bet is to follow him. We track him for another ten minutes, when we hear the sounds of a moving creek, or stream. I signal to Paul, to hold up.

  “Maybe we should split up,” I whisper.

  “I can see the clearing ahead. He had to come out there.”

  “See if you can go around and come into the clearing from the other side. He may have her in the trees, watching for us to come off the trail.”

  We hear the sound of the approaching chopper blades.

  “Take the gun,” I say.

  “No. You keep it. You’re a better shot.”

  He takes off, without another word. I replace the two bullets I used on the boar and keep the pistol in my hand. I quietly make my way to the end of the trail. It opens to a large open flat, against a shallow moving creek. I’m not sure the clearing is wide enough for the helicopter. I’m watching every angle I can, as I walk out. I don’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary, so I move to the edge of the creek. Up ahead, partially hidden by the trees, is a leafy incline. I come to where the muddy bank has been tampered with. Someone’s been here.

  Overhead, the chopper appears. As it descends, the force of the whirling blades picks up the thousands of leaves on the banks. They swirl in a whirlwind, above the incline, and when they do, they expose the hidden Esme. I take just one step toward her, when Kevin comes out of the trees. He’s seen her too. He’s got his rifle, and it’s aimed on his prize. I stop in my tracks. Esme raises her hand and brings up a stick with something sharp attached to the end. Her hand is shaking so violently, I can see it from where I stand. This makes Kevin laugh. He has to yell over the copter’s noise for Esme to hear.

  “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen! You think you’re going to hurt me with that? Do you see what I’ve got here, bitch?”

  He walks slowly towards her.

  “Hey!” I yell.

  That takes his eyes off Esme for a moment. He aims his gun at me. I can’t fire at him, because he’s too close to her. I know Paul must be watching all this, so I try to stall for time.

  “Hey brother, let’s just talk. This doesn’t have to end so badly. Nobody’s been killed,” I say.

  “Put down your weapon!” I hear Vinnie’s voice from the copter.

  They’re still twenty feet from the ground, and they don’t have a steady shot. But now I see Paul approaching from Kevin’s rear. Kevin just smiles his fucked-up toothless smile. He cocks his gun.

  “Fuck you, brother,” he says.

  The noise from the chopper has muffled Paul’s approach. Kevin doesn’t hear him till he’s just a few feet away. I see Paul just about ready to tackle Kevin, when he’s detected. In a split second, Kevin turns and shoots Paul right where he stands. He goes down in a sickening heap. And in those few seconds, I’m running toward him.

  “Finn, get down!” Vinnie commands.

  I roll to the ground and hear the sound of the bullets fly through the air. They find their mark, in Kevin’s head. He falls right on top of Esme’s body, and I hear her cries. I get back up and run to her. The chopper’s on the ground, and the medics are running toward Paul.

  Esme is shaking in terror a
t the sight and feel of Kevin’s face against hers. Half of his head is gone, and his blood is oozing over her face and down her neck. She’s so traumatized that her eyes are locked on mine, and they’re not blinking. I don’t think she can speak. I throw his body off hers and try to take the stick from her hand. She’s got ahold of it in a death grip. I open each of her fingers and throw the spear to the side. I take her in my arms.

  “You’re alright. You’re alright, Esme. You did good. I’m here now.”

  I start to rock her like a child. I try to comfort her and make her realize she’s safe. At the same time, I’m watching the medics work on Paul. They’re trying to start his heart. A medic is breathing into his mouth, then pumping his chest. Tears are streaming down my face. God, please let him live. I say that prayer over and over in my mind. Begging God not to hold it against me that I rarely speak to him. And pleading that he consider what a good man Paul is. Better than me. I remember something from the Bible. No greater love has a man, than he lays down his life for another. Please don’t let that be Paul’s epitaph.

  Esme attempts to sit up. Her feet are still in the stagnant water, and she’s trying to push against the ground. But she has no strength left.

  “No, don’t move baby. I’ll carry you.”

  I pick her up, and she lays her head against my chest. She looks into my eyes, and I see her tears well up. Her blood-stained dirt encrusted hand lifts to the place he must have cut off her hair. She’s showing me the beautiful braid I love is gone. Her lip begins to quiver and the tears fall. Oh, Esme. She closes her eyes, and shuts out the world. There are no right words. I won’t minimize what she’s been through. Everything I can think of sounds wrong. What do you say to a woman who’s just been through hell? So, I just say the one thing that I hope will heal her, as it’s healed me. The one thing I have to offer and the one truth in my life. I kiss her head.

  “I love you, Esme.”

  Epilogue

  Esme

  One Year Later

  A squawking, hungry seagull wakes me from my midday nap. I wiggle my toes in the warm sand and lift the brim of my hat. I know exactly what’s happening. Finn’s feeding the birds again.

  “Did we wake you?” he says, standing above me, with a less than innocent grin.

  I’m still getting used to the Irish brogue. I love it. He could say, “Take out the trash, please,” and I’d melt. He looks so good. Like a god who has just risen from the sea. His skin is a golden honey color, and even the droplets of sea water want to hold fast. They reluctantly fall from the curling tips of his hair and snake down his body. He must have just returned from a swim, before he started feeding the birds. I’ve got to laugh. There are at least twenty of them circling our umbrella, vying for the next bits of bread.

  “It’s like a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie.”

  “Ok, darlin’, I’ll stop. I’d rather play with you anyway.”

  He ducks under the umbrella, puts the bag of bread back into the tote, then lies back. He rolls me over on top of him. His wet skin cools my warmed body. My braid falls over his mouth. He uses it to pull me in for a salty kiss. I feel his hard cock move against my bikini bottom.

  “Well, hello.”

  He rolls over on top of me.

  “Have I told you today?” he says.

  I love this game we play.

  “No. Tell me.”

  “I love you, Esme Scott.”

  “I love you, Finn Kennedy.”

  He slides off me and stretches out. But he keeps hold of my hand.

  The first time I heard him say those words, was in a very different setting. It’s been a whole year since that day. Now, when I think of it, it’s as if it happened a lifetime ago. Or maybe like it happened in another life altogether. It took me a long time to get past the initial trauma. I don’t think I would have made it, if it wasn’t for Finn and the rest of the people who worked to lift me back up. Finn stood by me as only a true friend could. He loved me as only a true lover would. He understood the reality of what it would take to get past such a violent assault. He had to show such complete patience and understanding of my journey to recovery. And there was no guarantee I’d ever be the same woman I was before it happened.

  When he asked me to stay with him at his house in Dana Point, I didn’t have the strength to argue. And I didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with what I had to overcome. Only Finn knew the depth of evil I endured. Only he shared the horror of Paul getting shot. Sweet Paul. I’ll never forget that horrific moment. And Finn says BB’s heartbreaking reaction when she got the news, is another one that’s etched in his mind.

  Finn didn’t try to minimize the events of that day, but at the same time, we only spoke of it when we both wanted to. He took sex out of the equation, without even talking about it. He never touched me in that way, or made any innuendos. He acted as if we had never had sex. And he waited till I made the first move. My physical wounds had long since healed, but my emotional ones connected to sex were something more delicately held together.

  I had to get past the past. It was as simple and as complex as that. I wanted to be able to have a sexual experience that didn’t bring up Kevin’s face in my mind. I needed to be able to be touched and not flash back to the pain. So I took things one baby step at a time. I had the right man to climb that mountain with. And he let me take the lead. We started slow. We slept together from the start, but the only touching was when he’d hold me in his arms till I fell asleep. Or when he’d comfort me after a bad dream. There was no shower sharing, or nakedness. He even started wearing pajamas. I knew he hated that, but it was such a sensitive gesture of love.

  Things progressed over the months, until one night, after a few glasses of wine, I led him to the bedroom. I doubt if that experience was any good for him. I was stiff, and afraid, and as quiet as a virgin. But he made love to me in the gentlest way. He took off the Jacob’s Ladder and went exquisitely slow. There was no hair pulling, or ass slapping. Nothing that could be misinterpreted. It awoke every sensual piece of me. I came back to him. I came back to myself.

  The fact that his next movie was an action feature, filmed in L.A., worked perfectly. He would come home every night, and he had the weekends off. It wrapped two months ago and he’s been my beach mate every day since. We’ve been having fun, entertaining guests all summer. Grandma and Carl have each stayed weeks at a time. Jack and Nicki, and Steven and Bliss have been regulars. And there was enough happiness in these few months to fill a fairytale.

  We heard all about Bliss and Steven’s upcoming wedding, and we spent many nights around the dinner table talking about the details. Everything had to sync with the various work schedules, of the people closest to them. First of all, the HBO series got pushed back. A change in management threw upcoming projects into a spin. But now it’s a go again, and we leave for San Francisco next week. The wedding will take place when we wrap.

  “What are you thinking of?” asks Finn.

  I snap out of my memories and come back to the beautiful present.

  “I’m just thinking about what a great summer this has been.”

  “Well, we didn’t lack for company anyway.”

  Finn sits up and shades his eyes. I sit up to see what’s caught his attention. He’s looking at two figures coming hand in hand down the beach.

  “Here they are now. Our two misbehavin’ houseguests.”

  I see the unmistakable figures as they walk along the shore. Her, in her red bikini, blonde curly hair blowing in the sea air. And Paul, looking his old self, healed body by her side. She leans over and says something private in his ear. He playfully slaps her on the ass. They both look up, spot us watching, and wave.

  Acknowledgments

  Although writing seems a solitary task, it actually “takes a village.” First, you need the people closest to you for daily encouragement. Someone besides yourself to think you can accomplish your dream. And in your moments of doubt, they need to believe it more tha
n you do. That kind of support lifts you as a writer, until you’re sitting at the computer forming the sentences. You need it on word one and all the way to The End. For me, those people are my husband, Don, my niece and Godchild, Lara Petterson, and my sister, Cathy Ross. They’re the trifecta of encouragement and the supporting structure of my will. Thank you.

  Next it takes friends. It was a revealing experience to publish my first novel. Some that I expected to jump into the book, actually never read it. Contemporary Romance is not for everyone, and I had to come to terms with that fact. That was an important lesson I learned. But beyond that, some that never read it still praised me for accomplishing the project and wanted to hear the details of my journey. That was a beautiful thing. Others, who I didn’t expect would enjoy the genre, loved it the most. That was another lesson. My mother’s two friends, who are in their nineties, each called me praising the story and my writing. They referenced the characters and saw moments in the story I drew from the people we both knew. They were not in the least bit freaked out because I wrote some sex scenes. Sometimes we forget that most of us have experienced the wonders of sex. Sometimes our beautiful aging masks disguise the fact that we all know the same things. So thank you, Bea Cunha and Addie French, for teaching me that lesson. I felt the same love and encouragement I would have felt from my mother, had she been here to share my joy. You’ll never know how impactful your words were.

  Other friends went above and beyond what was expected in support of my book. From the beginning, the Norris family showed enthusiasm and love. My Godchild, Chloe, was one of the first to read my story. Her excitement was contagious. Stephanie Norris, her mother, has been my friend for decades. But I’d like to acknowledge her unwavering support for my new direction in writing. Your friendship has lit my life in many ways. I’m sure some of our escapades on movie sets will show up somewhere in my stories. Eric was and is an encouraging friend, whose steadfast support has meant so much. And so I say thank you all for the memories, which I use for inspiration. I love every person in this family, and I always will.