“Are those guys around all the time?” Jules asks as we go down a slight hill.
“Yep. And they’ve always got those heavy cameras on their shoulders. Makes me wonder how they walk straight once they put them down.”
I give Jules a quick introduction to the island facilities. When she comes out, we pump sanitizing lotion from a jug onto our hands. But when she turns to go back, I stop her.
“I need to talk to you.”
She looks around. “Here?”
“It’s the only place where there aren’t any cameras.”
“Got it.” With that, she plops down on the sand near one of the latrines and I drop beside her.
Being with someone I trust, out here where there are no cameras, has stripped away the protective armor I didn’t even know I’d been wearing. Suddenly, my heart is exposed, my nerves raw, and every emotion I’ve felt for the last fifteen days is magnified a thousand times. I wrap my arms around my drawn up legs, drop my forehead against my knees, and sob.
Jules lays her arm across my shoulder. The weight of it is comforting, assuring me I’m not alone. But she doesn’t say a word. She lets me cry until there are no tears left.
Finally, I lift my head and swipe the back of my hand across my eyes. “I’m such a mess.”
“Yes, you are,” she agrees. “But you’re entitled. This is a pretty intense situation.”
Intense doesn’t begin to describe it. “I don’t understand how she could bond so quickly with Duncan. She only talks to me when she has to, but they’re getting on like old buddies.”
“Maybe she empathizes because neither of them had any say about the adoption.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Of course, she’s right. Jess probably would have reacted differently to Duncan if he’d been involved in the decision to give her up. But he never knew about her, which makes him blameless in her eyes.
I stare out at the dark, rhythmic dance of the ocean. Moonlight glints off the waves as they creep up the beach, wet fingers clutching the sand, trying to dig in and rest, but they lose the battle. Some greater force pulls them back, returning them to the sea, until the next time they try and make their escape. The ways of nature are a mystery to me, much like the relationship between a mother and a daughter.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I want to talk, answer her questions, find out who she is. But now he’s here.”
“Only for two days.”
“Two days too long. Jules, what am I going to do?” I let myself fall backward so I’m lying face up on the sand, staring at a velvet black, bedazzled sky. So much beauty being wasted on me.
“All you can do is take each day as it comes. Right now, she’s got two days with her birth father. Let her have that. When he goes, then you’ll be there to step in and fill the hole.”
“I hope so.”
“Don’t worry. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.” She lies back, too, and sighs. “You don’t see stars like this in Vegas. And so many birds out flying at night.”
“Those are bats,” I say in the casual way of someone who’s become accustomed to them.
“Really?” Jules pushes up on her elbows, as if doing so will give her a better view. “Cool.”
I laugh. “That’s why you do so well in a house full of males. You appreciate stuff like that.”
She nods. “God puts us where we need to be.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Oh sure. Sometimes it takes us awhile to get there, but most people do.”
“And what about the people who don’t?”
Jules laughs and sits up all the way. “If I knew that, I’d be God, and we know that’s not the case.” She stands up and brushes sand from the back of her jeans. “We should get back before they send out a search party.”
“You have no idea how true that is.” I scramble to my feet. “A few days ago, Trevor went missing. It caused quite a stir.”
“But he was here?”
“Yep.” Leaning close, I whisper in her ear, even though no one’s around. “He must’ve gotten a bad piece of fish or something.”
It’s funny how easy it is to find humor in someone else’s gastrointestinal distress. But as we walk back to camp, laughing and holding our sides, I’m thankful for that bad piece of fish and whatever else can take my mind off my own troubles.
***
I wake up on one side of the shelter. Jules is next to me, Layla and Malcolm are in the middle, with Duncan and Jess on the other side. When it came time to figure out who slept where last night, I made no secret about wanting to be as far away from Duncan as possible. And Jess made it clear that she was stuck to her father like sap on a windshield.
No one else is moving, so I head to the beach for a morning walk. Since we don’t have access to any watches or clocks, I have no idea what time it is. The sun is still low, bathing the sky in golden hues. Just for fun, I’ve brought along Evelyn’s fishing spear. Just in case.
My hope is that things will look different in the light of a new day. But they don’t. What I need is advice from an unbiased observer. Maybe that’s why I find myself walking up to the confessional.
There’s a man at the camera today, but Ponytail is there, and I wonder if she’s ever allowed to do anything else.
“Welcome back. Have a seat.”
By now, I know better than to try to make myself comfortable. I just settle on the log and set down the spear.
“So what’s new with you?” Ponytail asks.
“Oh, let’s see . . . We’re at the midway point of the game. My daughter still isn’t talking to me much, and I’m being forced to socialize with the last man on earth I wanted to see. So, peachy.”
She smiles. “You’re a lot more open now, too.”
I raise my hands in a shrug. “What can I say? I finally realized it was stupid to fight the system. The cameras are here, and if I want to build any kind of a relationship with my daughter, I’m going to have to talk in front of them.”
“That’s a good outlook. Do you want to talk about Duncan?”
“No.” I purse my lips together and take a deep breath. “You know what really bothers me? The way he acts like the poor, injured party.”
“He did just find out he has a grown daughter. That must have been a shock.”
A sharp laugh bursts through my lips. “You want to talk about being shocked? Try finding out you’re pregnant three weeks after the man you’re in love with has left the country without telling you. He never knew about Jessica because I couldn’t tell him. I had no idea where he was or how to get in touch with him.”
Her eyes narrow, and for a second, I know Ponytail is empathizing. Then she regains her professional demeanor. “Is it awkward being around him now?”
“I really don’t care about him one way or the other. What I care about is how he treats Jessica.” I wave a hand in the air like I’m erasing a huge whiteboard. “Not that he isn’t treating her well now. They’re getting along great. But what happens when he just disappears from her life?”
“Like he did with you?” Ponytail asks quietly.
A fat, black beetle crawls across the log toward my thigh. A few weeks ago, the sight of it would have sent me screaming into the jungle, but now I flick it away with my fingernail, then smile at Ponytail. “Are you a psychologist?”
Her ponytail sways as she shakes her head. “We’re talking about you, not me.”
Well, it was worth a try. “I’m concerned that she’ll get used to having him in her life, and then he’ll disappear.”
There it is. Besides the fact that I’m jealous of the time she’s spending with him, this is what bothers me the most. That, as Ponytail said, he’ll hurt her just like he hurt me.
The two-way radio clipped to her belt crackles. She pulls it off, presses a button on the side, and talks into it. “Go ahead.” A garbled voice, worse than what you’d hear from a drive through speaker, talks back, but I ca
n’t make out a word of what it says.
Radio still in her hand, Ponytail points with the antennae toward camp. “You’d better head back. They’ve already read the pail mail.”
With a nod, I stand up, grab my spear, and leave the area. I decide to take the long way so I can walk along the beach a little more. It’s a decision I quickly regret when I see Duncan hunkered down in the sand, letting the waves break around his legs.
I consider turning around and going the other way, but he notices me before I can. He rises, wiping his hands quickly on the sides of his cargo shorts, and stands in front of me. My fingers tighten around the long, sharp piece of wood I’m carrying.
“Good morning to ya, Nikki.”
I ignore the smile and the crinkle of his eyes. And I ignore the pleasant greeting. “Don’t call me Nikki.”
“Sorry, Love. I can’t think of you as anyone but Nikki.”
“Then just don’t think of me at all. You’re good at that.” I try to walk around him, but he reaches out and grabs my arm.
“Wait just a minute. Are ya saying ya don’t think I’ve thought about ya in all these years?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He looks down at the sand and slowly shakes his head. “Ya couldn’t be more wrong, Nikki.”
I wish he’d quit calling me that. It brings up too many memories, especially when he says it in that soft, drawn out way, like a gooey piece of caramel stretched between his fingers and his mouth.
“You left me. One day you were just gone. No explanation, no forwarding address, nothing.”
His other hand reaches out, and now he’s holding me by my upper arms and pulling me disturbingly close. “I had ta leave, but I didn’t want ta. Ya have ta believe that.”
“I don’t have to believe anything you say.” If I was smart, I’d poke him with the spear to make him let go, then I’d run off. But if I’ve established anything in the last few weeks, it’s that I’m not always bright about things like this. “Fine. If you’re telling the truth, then why did you leave? Why did you have to go?”
His eyes narrow. “It’s complicated, Love.”
Of course it is. “We need to get back for the next challenge. Please let go of me.”
He does as I ask, and as I walk away, he calls after me. “I deserved to know about her.”
I spin around so quickly, sand flies from under my feet. “You’re right. You did deserve to know about her. But I didn’t know where you were.” I poke him hard in the chest with my finger. “I was alone and pregnant, so I dealt with it by myself.”
There’s a split second when his eyes change from angry to intense, and the muscles around his mouth soften, when I realize what’s coming. But before I can stop it, he brackets my face between his palms, swoops down, and kisses me.
Thank God I have my stick. I hit the side of it hard against the back of his leg.
He yelps and jumps back. “What was that for?”
“What do you think?” I wipe the back of my hand hard across my lips.
The sincere confusion that comes over him is almost funny. “But I thought . . . You were so . . .”
Rolling my eyes like a teenager, I step back, putting more space between us. “I was angry, not turned on. You big dope.”
I stomp away, but then another thought hits me. Turning again, I advance, spear at the ready, pointed straight at him.
“And if you ever, ever do anything to hurt Jessica, I will track you down and use this thing. Do you understand?”
From the twitching of his lips, I’m sure he’s holding back a smile, but he has the good graces to at offer me a semi-serious look. “I understand perfectly. And I would never do anything ta hurt her.”
“Good. Let’s go.” Feeling more pleased with myself than I have in a long time, I turn toward camp. “We’ve got a challenge to win.”
24
Several eyebrows shoot up when Duncan and I walk back into camp together, but I don’t bothering explaining. If anybody wants to know what happened, they can just watch it on television.
“What did the pail mail say?” I ask, dropping to the edge of the shelter.
Malcolm abandons the firewood he was chopping and sits beside me. “We’ve got an elimination challenge today.” He slouches a little, leaning his head down so he can whisper. “Are you all right?”
I nod quickly, then move on. “Has anyone made breakfast?”
“There’s a little problem with breakfast. We’re out of food.”
“Oh yeah.” I forgot that I’d cooked the last of the beans two days ago, and after making breakfast yesterday, there was only a little rice left. Malcolm and Layla must have made it for dinner last night.
“We’re not totally out of food.” Layla walks forward with three rolls and a bunch of grapes. “I saved these from last night.”
“Smart girl.” I smile at her. “Looks like we’ll have a continental breakfast today.”
As we tear the rolls in half and split up the grapes, Malcolm chuckles. “This reminds me of the story in the Bible, where Jesus fed the crowd with the loaves and fishes.”
“I wouldn’t mind if He decided to multiply our food,” Layla says.
The two of them joke about how Jesus also turned water into wine, so it would be great if he’d turn our grapes into medium rare steaks. Our food doesn’t multiply, but as I pop a still-grape grape in my mouth, I send up a little prayer of thanks for what we do have.
About an hour later, we’re tromping into the challenge area. Rick is already there. He looks at our group a little more intently than usual, probably wondering how many juicy sound bites Duncan and I have provided so far.
Most of the time, we can get a pretty good idea of what the challenge involves by looking at the playing area. But this time, there’s nothing set up except a two-tiered set of benches, similar to the one in the final play area. The contestants are told to sit, while Jules and Duncan sit on a smaller bench near Rick.
“In honor of our special guests, today’s competition is all about the relationships you’ve made on the island, and how well you know each other.”
Jess and I look at each other. We may not know each other that well, but we’ve spent a lot of time talking to, or about, the others. There’s a very good chance we can stay out of the bottom two.
Each team is given a dry erase marker and a small white- board with three tall sides around it to prevent cheating. “The game ends when a team reaches five correct answers. At that point, the two teams with the least number of points will be up for elimination tonight. In case of a tie, we’ll play a sudden death round. Everybody ready?”
The game is harder than it sounds. Rick poses questions about everyone who played this season, not just those of us who are left. Jess and I know that Evelyn is the older of the two sisters and Malcolm is a pastor. We correctly guess that Maxie held the title Ms. Mega Muscle 1992. We have no clue that Bob is a physicist, Sal spent three years working in a malaria clinic in Africa, or that Payton spends his weekends teaching contemporary jazz at his local community center. Of course, we were all surprised about that last one.
After a few more questions, the score is close. Jess and I have four points, as does Bob’s team. Malcolm and Trevor’s teams each have three points.
“Next question,” Rick says. “What was the name of Payton’s teammate?”
It’s obvious from the panic in Jess’s eyes that she doesn’t know. From the way the other teams are looking at each other, I don’t think they know, either. That woman was so quiet, it’s unlikely she offered up her name, and nobody had a reason to ask. Except me.
I start to write her name down, then stop. If I get this right, the game is over. Which means Malcolm and Trevor will be in the bottom two. If I throw this question, and we all get it wrong, that would give Malcolm a chance to get the next question right. But that could backfire, too.
“Five seconds,” Rick says.
Jess elbows me. “Write someth
ing down!”
I scrawl a name, finishing just when Rick orders pens down. Then he tells us to show our answers. “Rhonda is the correct answer.” He points at me. “Monica and Jess win with five points, and this challenge is over. Malcolm and Layla, Trevor and Wendy, you will fight for your lives tonight. See you then.”
My odd foursome brings up the rear as we leave the area. I purposely lag behind, hoping to get a second with Rick. He’s got some explaining to do.
But when I get close to him, he stops me before I can stop him.
“Monica, a word.”
“Oh, I’ve got a word for you. Several, in fact.”
He frowns, his forehead creasing up in that way it does when he concentrates. “Is Duncan behaving himself?”
“It’s a little late to ask me that now, don’t you think? Maybe we should have had this conversation, oh, I don’t know . . . before you tracked him down and plopped him on an island with me!”
“I know you won’t believe this, but I didn’t have anything to do with him coming here.” Rick rubs the back of his neck as he braces for my reaction.
“You’re right. I don’t believe you. This is your show. You know about everything that goes on. You’re like the captain of the ship. Everything that happens is your responsibility.”
He holds up his hand to bring a stop to my verbal landslide. “That’s not entirely true. We have a whole team of writers and game technicians. Their job is to come up with new twists for the show. I think they came up with this one while you and I were on our way here in the jet.”
I haven’t known Rick all that long, but I’ve come to like him. So I really want to believe he’s telling me the truth. But how can I? People lie to each other all the time in this game. Why should the host be any different?
“I’m sure you’ll get great ratings, just like you wanted.”
Before I can walk away in my intended huff, he catches my wrist. “I don’t care about the ratings.”
My heart sinks and I jerk my arm away from him. “Now I know you’re lying. See you at the elimination.”
This time, he doesn’t stop me.
Last Family Standing Page 14