Dark Star

by Roslyn Holcomb

  “What are you doing out here all by yourself? Usually you’re the one to close the place down,” a familiar and welcome voice rang out in the darkness.

  Nate turned, happy to greet Callie who was in his study group and a good friend. He was about to answer her when he realized she was not alone. He locked eyes with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her eyes widened with the same awareness he knew his own had to be showing. The world spun on its axis as he realized that she felt as he did. Just like that he knew his life would never be the same.

  “This is my roommate Tonya. We’re leaving. It was all I could do to get her to come to this party and she’s had enough.”

  Nate realized that Callie was speaking to fill the silence because neither he nor Tonya had said a word. He took a deep breath.

  “Y’all are leaving?” Callie nodded. Tonya just stared at him mutely. “Shall I escort y’all back to your dorm, little sister?”

  Callie grinned at him. “That would be nice.”

  Their dorm was a fair distance from the party location. A fact that Nate appreciated as it gave him a chance to break the ice with Tonya. It didn’t take him long to discover that she was an English major and like Callie, a sophomore. He was a junior, but he and Callie were both majoring in Business.

  “So what do you plan to do with a degree in English?” he asked, not really caring, but unable to come up with anything else to say. He was pretty sure that if he said what he wanted to she’d run screaming into the night, and Callie would beat him to death with his B-Law book.

  They’d arrived at the dorm and stopped at the large broad steps that led up to the red-brick Classic Revival building. Tonya and Callie were seated on the steps while Nate leaned against one of the large Doric columns that punctuated the building’s characteristic Greek design.

  “I’m a writer. I plan to write novels. I promised my mama I’d get a teacher’s certificate -- she’s big on fall-back positions, but I know I’ll write,” Tonya said in a soft voice.

  “She’s already written a couple of books,” Callie chimed in, her voice reverberating with pride.

  “Unpublished,” Tonya said with a dismissive shake of her head.

  “Only because you haven’t submitted them to a publisher,” Callie shot back.

  “They need work and I’m not ready to start the submission grind.”

  “I’d love to read your manuscript. Maybe I can be your agent or something,” Nate said.

  Callie gave him a sly look. “Oh, I didn’t know you planned on being a literary agent. Thought you were going to be an international business mogul.”

  “You know I’m majoring in international business, but I can read a contract,” Nate said wondering if he could murder his friend now or if it would be better to wait until there were no witnesses.

  “I’m sure you can,” Callie said. Then she stretched and yawned the fakest yawn he’d ever seen. “I’m tired y’all. I’m turning in,” she said as she stood.

  To his dismay, Tonya rose to her feet as well. He didn’t want her to leave yet and he grasped onto the first thing he could think of to make her stay. “Well, if you don’t want me to read your manuscripts the least you can do is tell me about them.”

  He couldn’t believe it when Callie winked at him. “Nice save,” she said. “Yeah, why don’t you do that, Tonya? Your stories are the only things you want to talk about anyway. It’s about time you had a new victim.”

  Tonya sighed and returned to her seat. “I do have other topics of conversation besides my stories.”

  “Glad to hear that, but I have no problem with being your victim,” Nate said.

  “You might change your mind after a while,” she said with a shy smile. Somehow she even got him to talk about a subject he rarely discussed.

  “You have the most unique accent I’ve ever heard,” Tonya said after Callie had left.

  Nate gave a self-conscious laugh. “Yeah, it’s a combination of South Alabama by way of Paris.”

  “I assume you mean the one in France and not the one in Tennessee.”

  “Definitely the one in France. My mother was French and it was my first language, but my dad was from Alabama, so I sound like him too, especially when I speak English.” He shrugged. “But I’ve lived all over the world and speak several languages.”

  “Oh? How many do you speak?” she asked.

  “About a half-dozen or so. I can get around in a few more. I’ve been lucky enough that no matter where I’ve been someone spoke at least one of the languages I speak. My mother always said I had an aptitude for it. It’s a good thing because I love to travel.”

  “Well, I grew up in a tiny North Alabama town. I know everyone there. I’ve always wanted to travel to different places. Meet new people.”

  Nate grinned. “I’ve always wanted to live in a small town where everyone knows me.”

  They looked at one another for a moment, then laughed.

  “I guess it’s true you always want whatever it is you don’t have,” Tonya said. They sat in silence for a while, as Nate scrambled for something to say then Tonya surprised him.

  “You know I asked Callie to introduce us,” she said.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah I saw you two talking one day and asked for the intro. It was the only reason I came to the party; usually I pass.”

  “That’s what Callie said. I’m flattered I could motivate you to leave your work, and I’m glad you came,” he grinned. “I’m really glad you came. I would’ve asked to meet you if I’d known about you.”

  “So am I,” she said, lowering her head as though embarrassed. There was no more conversation for another long moment. The silence was a comfortable one though as Nate knew she was as interested in him as he was in her. When she spoke again it was on a totally different subject, a habit of hers that was a bit disarming, but definitely kept him on his toes.

  “You said you traveled all over the world. You’re pretty young so I assume you went with your parents?” He nodded. “What do they do?”

  “They were missionaries. Aid workers really,” Nate said.

  Tonya frowned. “Were? They’ve both passed away?”

  “Yes.” Nate struggled to get the word out. Talking about his parents still seared through his soul like a fresh wound.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.” She shifted uncomfortably on the step.

  “That’s okay, it’s been a while. It happened while I was in high school.” That was the most he’d ever told anyone else, but he wanted Tonya to know the whole story. “They were attacked by terrorists.”

  “Oh, my God.” He watched as tears filled those expressive brown eyes. “What happened?” Then she shook her head. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  “No. I don’t mind.” And he was surprised to discover that he didn’t. He wiped a hand over his face. “It was the craziest thing. They’d spent their entire lives living in some of the most hellish places in the world. Places where the average life expectancy was like twenty-five. Never got so much as a scratch. Then they went to London and got killed in an IRA attack.”

  “I’m so sorry. How old were you?

  “About fifteen. I’d come back to the States for school. They were vacationing in London because Dad was sick. We were supposed to hook up at Christmas. They were kidnapped with some other missionaries. There was a rescue attempt and they were all killed.” Nate shook his head, staring at Tonya in bemusement. He’d never told anyone the details of his parents’ deaths. Yet within hours of meeting this woman, he couldn’t seem to shut up. That had never been a problem either. There was something about her eyes. In her clear gaze that undoubtedly saw everything there was also a softness and compassion...and peace. Nate sighed. He was in big trouble.

  Nate smiled as he reminisced. Tonya had stayed with him that night until dawn crept over the Denny Chimes and hadn’t left until he was forced to push her away. He sighed at the sweet joy of falling in love for the first
and only time. And the agony of having to leave that love behind. Those bittersweet memories were the only thing that had kept him sane for all those long years without her. He took them out from time to time like an antidote against the bleak life he led. Well, he’d made his choices and would make the same ones if he had it to do again -- but still he couldn’t help imagining what might have been. He leaned down to pull the covers more closely around Tonya’s slender shoulders. “Sleep well, little sister,” he said softly.

  Then as though she’d heard him a subtle smile curved Tonya’s lips. As he had done for many years Nate resisted temptation and walked away.

  Chapter Four

  Looking out the window of the helicopter, Tonya sighed at the beauty below. The Pacific Ocean gleamed a cerulean backdrop for islands that were scattered like jewels from a treasure box. She and Nate were alone in the aircraft with the pilot. Deringer hadn’t traveled with them past Hawaii and of course, neither of them bothered to tell her why. They hadn’t flown commercial, and most of their flights had been in small 20-passenger jets. Not the best way to travel over what could be a very turbulent ocean. Their flight from Hawaii to the Philippines had been a little slice of Hell she had no desire to repeat.

  Nate leaned toward her. “Those are the Tipitoe Islands right there,” he said, his voice crackling in the headset as he pointed.

  Tonya nodded. She could see how the islands got their name. There were a half dozen or so arranged in almost a straight line as though a giant could tiptoe from one to another without even getting his feet wet. The flight had been an inordinately long one, consisting of endless plane changes and quick naps anytime she could. Three days of travel had really done her in. As the helicopter landed on the microscopic landing strip, she heaved a grateful sigh of relief that she was done with flying for a while.

  They climbed out and Tonya watched as Nate handed their pilot, a disreputable character he referred to as W.T., a wad of cash. With his sunburned skin and scraggly blonde hair covered by a pith helmet, the man embodied every stereotype of a bush pilot. He looked like a character in a Rudyard Kipling novel, but she couldn’t complain. According to Nate he was a damned good pilot and she was just grateful to arrive in one piece.

  Nate grabbed their bags out of the helicopter, and then directed Tonya toward the parking lot next to the tower where several cars were parked. After tossing their bags in the back of a World War II era jeep, he opened the passenger door for her to climb in.

  “Do you just leave your car parked here with the key in the ignition?” she asked.

  “Not my car,” he said. “It’s just left here for anyone who needs it.”

  “Y’all don’t worry about it being stolen?”

  “Why would anyone do that? Anybody can use it for as long as they need. Put some gas in it and leave it for the next person.”

  “That’s convenient,” she said, leaning back in her seat.

  “You’ll see, Tipitoe is a different world. The closest thing I’ve found to paradise.”

  As the island wasn’t very large, the drive to his house wasn’t a lengthy one. The road wasn’t paved, but the crushed seashells made for a surprisingly smooth surface. They passed a small village that seemed to have a couple of stores and an open-air market place. It all looked very charming and Tonya hoped she’d have an opportunity to explore. Then the path circled around to the other side of the island. They passed a couple of houses, little more than beach huts really, and then there was his house. It sat almost directly on the beach and had a roof thatched with woven palm fronds. Nate stopped the jeep then jumped out to open her door.

  “Welcome to my home,” he said. “Despite the circumstances, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.”

  Tonya looked at the surreally beautiful setting. She was tempted to rub her eyes, convinced they must be deceiving her. The small timber-framed house was built of some exotic wood and faced the beach. It had so many windows that it seemed that the walls were made almost entirely of glass. The wood and glass construction made it fit in perfectly with the background of tropical foliage and sugar sand beach. She sighed, really too exhausted to take it all in. “Right now I’m so tired, it really doesn’t matter.”

  Nate reached out and rubbed her shoulder in sympathy. “Poor Onion, this trip has been brutal. I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

  Smiling despite having every reason not to, Tonya leaned against him. “I hope so.”

  * * * * *

  Tonya was awakened, as she had been for the past few mornings, by the sunlight pouring through her bedroom window. It had taken her a while to adapt to the time change. Jet lag had hit her hard and she’d done little but sleep the entire first day.

  She slid out of bed determined that today she was going to make Nate tell her what the hell was going on.

  Tonya padded barefoot into the small kitchen. The house was tiny, having only two bedrooms and a single shared bath. The incredible waterfront views and beach access made up for anything the house lacked in size.

  Nate stood by the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand and a slice of toast in the other. He was barefoot too, wearing a pair of board shorts and a tattered green t-shirt. He hadn’t shaved in several days and the five o’clock shadow was on overtime. She’d always loved his legs; they were long and muscular and sprinkled with dark hairs. Years of playing sports had given him strongly defined calves and thighs. His shoulders had broadened, though it didn’t seem he’d gained a pound. She wished she could say the same. He gave her a knowing grin, and she self-consciously tugged at the running shorts she wore. They had brought some of her clothes when they kidnapped her, but she hadn’t known they were going to a tropical climate -- and the house didn’t have air conditioning. It wasn’t really necessary as the temperature was typically in the low eighties. Still most of the clothes that were suitable for New York City and a book tour were totally out of the question. Fortunately, she was an avid jogger and had packed her running clothes. Even though the shorts fit properly, her long legs made it appear that far more of her was exposed than she was comfortable with. She had to admit that it didn’t bother her under normal circumstances, but the effect Nate had on her was telling.

  Without a word, he poured a cup of coffee for her. She accepted the large mug when he offered it and took a long sip. “When are you finally going to get around to telling me what the hell is going on?”

  “When you need to know,” he said.

  Tonya resisted the urge to smack him. Hard. He’d said the same thing over and over again for the past five days. “Are you kidding me? You drag me off to the South Pacific as if I have nothing better to do with my time than play Girl Friday to you. I do have a life you know. I have a company to run and contracts to fulfill. I’m supposed to be on a book tour. I don’t understand why we can’t just call the police and get these people arrested.”

  “You have no idea what we’re dealing with here.”

  “That’s right I don’t. Whose fault is that?” she snapped.

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. For right now the less you know the better off we all are.”

  “That’s nonsense. Ignorance never helped anything. What about my mama? What about Callie? What about my book sales? Not to mention that somewhere in this long, strange trip I lost my goddamned jelly beans.”

  “Dear God, Onion, you’re still hooked on those things? I swear your love for licorice gave me a freaking fetish. Every time I taste the stuff I get a hard on.” He shook his head and laughed. “As for your sales, something tells me that if anything they will improve.” He motioned her over to look at the stack of newspapers he’d been perusing when she walked in.

  “I absolutely cannot believe you don’t have the internet here. I haven’t read a real newspaper in ages.”

  “No internet. No cable. That kind of stuff is traceable. If we use any of it, we might as well build a yellow brick road for them to follow.”

  Tonya sighed at the reminde
r of why she was here, then began to read the paper on the counter. “The Author Vanishes,” the story caption on the dated New York Times screamed. The story was well inside the newspaper, but above the fold and likely to receive quite a bit of coverage. And she knew that sensational stories were often featured more prominently on the website. Tonya leaned down to read the story with increasing horror. “Oh, my God they think I’m doing it for the publicity. Or because I was pissed off at my mother. How did they know about that?”

  “What were you pissed at Anita about?” he asked.

  “Reuben,” she said succinctly. “And I wasn’t angry. I was annoyed.”

  “Still? Jesus, Tonya it’s been what, twenty years?”

  “Yes,” Tonya gritted out. She didn’t know why she was disappointed that he wasn’t taking her side either. Nate had never let her get away with a pity party.

  “Damn, Onion, you do hold a grudge don’t you? Guess I’ll have to spend the rest of my life sleeping with one eye open.” He shrugged with a smirk. “Nothing new there.”

  “Don’t worry; I was already beyond pissed with you. Trust me; this little trip to paradise isn’t helping. They’re speculating that I’ve pulled an Agatha Christie.”

  “An Agatha Christie?” he asked, frowning.

  “Yeah. Back in the 1920s she disappeared after her husband asked for a divorce. She was eventually discovered, but never explained what happened.” She covered her face with her hands. “This is awful. Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Sweetheart, if I had any other way to keep you safe I would do it, but I have to make you disappear for a while. I need time to...” He shook his head and Tonya could’ve screamed in frustration as he changed what he was about to say. “I need time to take care of some things. I know I don’t deserve it, but you just have to trust me.”