Salvage Her Heart

by Shelly Pratt

‘I’m starting to see that. So, is this going to be an ocean or lake adventure?’

  ‘I’m thinking lake, we have more privacy there. But let’s stop at the hardware store before we reach your place. There’s a few things I’m going to need.’

  ‘You got it.’

  I have to hand it to Alex, the guy is one persistent little shit. The whole trip down south towards Callum’s property he’s kicking the shit out of the boot. We don’t stop him. We want him to be tired by the time we get there. He only lets up momentarily when we stop at the hardware store. I make sure Callum parks well away from other customers, not wanting them to hear the tantrum he’s having in there.

  I get what we need and we continue on to Callum’s property. When we get there, the sun is just coming up over the lake.

  ‘Judging by that bag of concrete you got there, I’m assuming we’re gonna weigh him down first?’

  ‘Absolutely. I think he’ll take us a bit more seriously if we make this seem more real, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes I do,’ he says grinning. ‘Just give me a sec to let Kirima know we’re back. Oh yeah, and not to disturb us.’

  He parks by the main cabin and jumps out. He’s gone a while, but when he comes back, I can see why. He’s got a thermos of coffee and some sandwiches, all wrapped up in greaseproof paper. My stomach starts to growl. This is the first time since Evie left that I’ve actually thought about food. I can only imagine how thirsty our guest is in the trunk of the car.

  We park right next to the barn as it takes up prime real estate right on the lake. For the moment, we leave Alex in the trunk while we quickly source what we need inside. He’s damn lucky it’s not a hot day or I’m sure the prick would have choked by now.

  Inside the barn is a work shop like no other. It has tools to rival a hardware store and huge piles of timber left over from when he was building his cabins. The front part of the barn houses Callum’s boat. The decking of the barn is cut out at the front so the boat sits in the water, ready to be used when the front doors are slid open.

  ‘Right, let’s get those two large bits of timber there and secure them to this beam here,’ says Callum, patting the heavy beam that holds up the roofing. We grab the plank and I hold it in place while he shoots nails through the centre of it with an air compressed gun at shoulder height. We repeat the process with another plank just below knee height. We then grab four zip-lock ties and link them around the beam, but do not pull them tightly. We’re ready for Alex.

  Both of us circle the car, ready to deal with the wild animal that we’ve held captive for several hours. I’m sure he’s had just about enough of his cage, although I can’t say his next holdings will be any better. I’m glad I’ve got Callum with me because I know that both of us can easily overpower Alex. Callum sticks the key in the trunk’s lock.

  ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m ready,’ I say.

  He releases the catch and we fling open the lid. A very dishevelled Alex greets us, squinting from the sudden burst of sunlight. His hair is matted to his head, sweat dripping off every part of his body. His lips are cracked and dry, his dehydration quite plain for us to see. Good. It’ll make him more compliant. Before he has chance to react, we grab him.

  He doesn’t come easily, despite his recent discomfort. It makes me wonder whether we’ll be able to break him. If we can’t, well, let’s just say I’m not fond of the alternative.

  We both have him under the arm, dragging him towards the barn, although we stumble several times as he tries to trip us with his feet. Each time he does, he cops a smack in the head. We all fall into the barn, eager to be away from the open space of the outdoors.

  With a great deal of resistance, we manage to hold him up against the beam long enough to secure his wrists with the ties against the horizontal plank of wood we just nailed there. We leave his legs for the moment, because we haven’t set up the buckets yet. He kicks out at us like a donkey, aiming to get us any way he can. Callum and I jump out of the way, not eager to feel his anger.

  ‘You fucking idiots, do you have any idea who you’re messing with?’ he screams at us. Just as well there are no residents nearby because the more excited this guy gets the louder his screams will be.

  ‘Yeah, we do,’ I say. ‘If I’m not mistaken, you’re a wife beater, a coward and a manipulator. We don’t like those sorts of people, do we Callum?’

  ‘Nope,’ he says with a grin.

  ‘When I get out of here I’m going to kick the ever-living shit out of both of you!’

  ‘Who says you’re getting out of here?’ I deadpan. For a split-second, Alex hesitates, before recovering his composure.

  ‘You’re not the type.’

  ‘I’m not? No, I guess you’re right; I’m normally not the type. But for you, Alex, I’ll make an exception, because the way you treat people—the way you treat Evie—is totally unacceptable in my book.’

  ‘You fucking dickhead! You’re going to risk the fallout of holding me here all for the sake of that common bit of ass?’

  ‘See that’s where you’ve gone wrong, Alex. She’s so much more than that, which is precisely why you don’t deserve her.’

  ‘Deserve her? You idiot! I fucking own her. You think I’d let her go so easily? Well, you might be right about that, but not to you. I’ve already brokered a deal that will see her with a new master. You think I’m bad? Man, you should see this guy.’

  ‘I don’t want to see him, or you, ever again. Neither does Evie. Right here, right now, is your only chance at walking away from this alive. You’ve got one option, and that is to convince me that you’re going to let her walk away from this without ever having to see you again, without ever having to look over her shoulder.’

  ‘Good luck with that. You think I won’t tell you exactly what you want to hear, just to get out of here?’

  I walk towards him, but circle the beam at a safe distance until I’m standing behind him. I move in close, wanting him to hear what I whisper in his ear.

  ‘You will, at first anyway. But I’m sure by the time we’re done here you’ll mean what you say. Believe me, I’ll be able to tell the difference. It’s just a matter of how desperate you get.’

  He doesn’t reply; instead, I can already see him trying to sever the unbreakable plastic ties that hold his arms in place. All he proceeds to do is make himself more breathless, the ties biting into his flesh.

  The barn doesn’t afford much light when the front doors that are lakeside are closed. The tiny windows allow us to see the trapped particles of dust which float about, but we need more light so that Alex can see exactly what we are doing. It will be fear that will be his undoing. Callum rigs a makeshift light nearby while I go to collect two empty heavy duty buckets. They’re the type tilers normally mix grout in, or concrete in our case.

  I give one to Callum and we approach from behind. When Alex realises that we intend to put his feet in the buckets, he resumes his wild kicking, trying to catch one of us in the mouth as we bend down to secure his feet. With the top half of his body secure, he doesn’t stand much chance. He’s tiring fast and he’s outnumbered. Pretty soon we both have a foot in our respective buckets. So that he can’t move his legs, we attach zip-lock ties just below his knees and tighten them so that the flow of blood is severely restricted to his lower limbs.

  ‘Now, for the fun part,’ taunts Callum, waggling his eyebrows at Alex. He opens the bag of Quick Set Concrete mix and pours it evenly into the two buckets. Alex watches on, mortified that he’s unable to do nothing to stop us.

  ‘How does that feel?’ I ask.

  ‘What?’ he snaps back.

  ‘Being powerless—how does it feel? I mean, you subjugated Evie to feeling powerless all this time. Not nice, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Fuck off. I’m not about to beg.’

  ‘We’ll see. Callum, shall we add the water?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  He grabs another bucket and walks to the fro
nt of the barn where the boat is lapping gently against its moorings. He fills it with the dam water and brings it back to us. Without hesitation he pours it into the concrete mix. I start to mix it slowly with a ruler I found on a nearby bench. Each bucket is filled with enough mix to set right at the top of his shins. That should be enough weight to sink the bastard if we have to. When we’re finished we sit back to admire our handiwork.

  ‘What now?’ asks Callum.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry… and thirsty,’ I say, looking directly at Alex when I say this. ‘How about we have those sandwiches while we wait for this concrete to set?’

  ‘Good idea, we’ve got about two hours to waste anyhow.’ Callum walks out of the barn, leaving me to follow.

  ‘You’re going to regret this you know.’ Alex is seething, thick white spit forming at the sides of his mouth. I stop in my tracks, incensed by his words. I turn to face him, wanting for him to see every bit of my certitude.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  I leave him to worry about what we’re going to do with him next. Considering the lake is just a few meters away, he may already have his suspicions. Should he be worried?

  Absolutely.

  Thirty

  EVIE

  For the first time in my life, I’m completely and truly alone. There are no overbearing parents, there is no abusive husband. There is no sweet, adorable Grayson who brings me so much comfort. There is only… me.

  It’s hard to be excited about a new life, when I’m missing a part of the old, but I know it’s time to rediscover exactly who I am. It’s the simple things that have me stumped, the small decisions that are commonplace. Things like, do I like chocolate or strawberry? Late nights or early mornings? Winter or summer? It’s like I’m a child again, discovering my own preferences and having the free will to make those choices.

  So where did I end up?

  Vanuatu. I’m living in Port Vila, in a lovely little bungalow near Mele Bay. I could have waited longer and taken the morning flight to New Zealand, but the bitter cold of Christchurch just wasn’t as appealing. Besides, I wanted out of the country before anyone could stop me. I needed distance between myself and the man who’d called himself my husband.

  This fresh start is not something I’m taking lightly. It’s not something I would have had the strength to do without Grayson’s help. I miss him. I long for him to find me and wait patiently every day for him to blow into town and tell me he’s here to stay.

  So many times I’ve been tempted to use a pay phone, to call him just to hear his voice. One thing holds me back. Alex.

  I don’t want him to find me, and having no idea what’s happened since I left has me staying silent. The faith and trust Grayson has asked me to place in him is not something I’m used to, but I believe in him, so I wait… impatiently.

  When I first arrived in Port I stayed at the first hotel I came to—too scared to venture out into the streets. I ordered all my meals in my room, thankful for the millionth time that I took enough cash with me not to leave a trail. I lived in a self-imposed exile, whiling the days away by watching in-house movies and crappy local television.

  After two weeks I’d had enough. This was no kind of life. It’s funny, because time makes you complacent, it makes you disregard the fears you held not so long ago because they no longer suit your ideals. I didn’t want to live in fear. I wanted to live—really live. Living in hotel room on my own was no better than the life I had with Alex. I didn’t want a prison, so I went looking for a place of my own.

  I hired a driver to take me around the island. His name is Tomasi. He has a wife and six children that need feeding and he is pleased to have a stable job that pays well. We explore the island… well, I explore and he guides me. He shows me where to buy food for the right price. He helps me discover the island’s hidden treasures, making me appreciate my new-found home. Eventually I started looking for a house. He is happy to drive me around to find a place I like and feel secure in.

  Mele Bay has it all; beautiful views, a cute little bungalow that I could fix up and make my own. It has a garden, too. The moment I stepped foot in the place I knew that it was somewhere I could put roots down. I signed the paperwork that day.

  Tomasi and his family were my first guests to dinner, although I didn’t cook for them. His wife bought Melanesian food for us to share. I didn’t know these people, yet they welcomed me into their lives without any questions. They made me feel like family. All that was missing was Grayson.

  After a couple of weeks in my new home, I’m starting to feel settled in my new life. I have a routine. Every day I wake and have breakfast on the little deck that overlooks the bay. My garden already has papaya trees which provide fruit in abundance in this tropical climate. I eat this with homemade yoghurt that the local villagers make. By the time I’ve done the dishes and showered, Tomasi arrives with his rickety old car, ready to take me to town.

  Without fail, I go every day. It wasn’t just getting out of the house that was important; it was the waiting for Grayson that makes me go. In the centre square of Port Villa is a huge town clock. Every day, same time, I go and sit there for a whole hour. I wait, hoping that one day I’ll see the man who promised he’d come for me. Each day I’m disappointed. I try and swallow it gracefully, but I usually end up in tears, the let-down getting too much day after day.

  Tomasi sits and waits patiently in a local coffee shop nearby, respecting my routine and never questioning why I do what I do. Afterwards I join him for coffee, letting him take my mind off things by talking about his family.

  Sometimes I get him to take me around the island and discover parts of it that tourists just aren’t privy to. Other times I like to go home and potter about the house or take long walks on my own.

  I’ve been living this life now for two months. Today started out like any other, except when Tomasi left me today he warned me about the monsoonal weather that is due to hit the island by early evening. After eating a light dinner, I sit out on the porch watching the clouds roll in from the ocean. There is something very therapeutic about watching a storm. I have been so used to living inside like a caged animal, that being outside now as wild weather whips about me feels so damn freeing.

  Palm trees start bending sideways, yet still I stay, now soaked to the bone. My new short blonde hairdo clings to my face; my shorts and singlet stick to me like second skin. The heavens open up and rain pours harder. I can no longer see the bay across the dirt road. Not content, I run out into the open and squeal as water instantly fills my mouth and nostrils as I look to the heavens.

  I feel that the rain is washing me; cleaning me of all the years of filth that Alex subjected me to. His touch, his mouth, his hands… none of it can hurt me anymore. It is gone. He is gone.

  My bare feet squelch around in the mud, happily dancing around like a crazy woman. There is no one else outside; no one else crazy enough to be out in this weather. But I love it. This is the Evie I want to be. I want to be happy, dirty, dancing in the mud. I want knotty, tangly hair that hasn’t seen a shampoo bottle in a week. I want to be make-up-free with my freckles on show for all to see. More than anything, I want Grayson here to share the new me.

  Overcome with emotion, my hysterical laughing turns to big, wracking sobs that threaten to floor me. I’ve always tried to hold all of my emotions in, to keep myself in check. No more. I let it out. I cry hard, falling to my knees, not caring in the slightest that the red, sloppy mud has just splashed up my thighs, staining my once-white shorts. And the rain, it still falls.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, letting it all out, but I’m startled by a loud crack. At the same time, I see Tomasi’s car carefully making its way down my street, windscreen wipers going ten to the dozen. He pulls over, and seeing me on my knees in the middle of the storm, comes hurrying to my side. Big, strong Tomasi. He’s like a bear, so huge with hands like paws. His nature is nothing but. Teddy bear more like it.

&n
bsp; He rushes over.

  ‘Evie, are you hurt?’

  I try to answer, but my mouth just fills with water. He scrambles to help me up, holding me under the arms and guiding me back to my front door.

  He gets us inside and I suddenly see what the loud crack was. One of the palm trees at the back of the house has split and crashed through the kitchen window. We both stare in disbelief.

  ‘Are you okay, Evie?’ He looks awfully worried. Heck, he should be, crazy woman like myself purposefully standing out in the middle of a big storm.

  ‘I’m fine, Tomasi. What are you doing here?’

  ‘This missus sent me over to check on you since you haven’t been in one of these storms before.’

  ‘That’s very kind of her, but I’m totally fine,’ I say, dripping water all over the floor. I’m creating quite a puddle on the linoleum. Tomasi is looking at me, not wholly convinced that I have all of my marbles.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m totally fine. I was just enjoying being in the rain. It doesn’t rain like this where I’m from.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Well, if this keeps up your house will start taking on water through that back window. Let me board it up for you before I go, okay?’

  ‘Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from your own family.’

  ‘It’s the missus’ orders, Evie.’

  ‘Right, well I’ll make us a cuppa while you do.’

  I watch Tomasi go out the back door in his raincoat. From the window I can see him battling the wind and rain as he makes his way to the garden shed. He comes back moments later with a few planks of wood and a hammer.

  ‘Just stand back while I pull the tree out of the window,’ he yells through the broken glass.

  ‘Okay.’

  As the broken trunk is removed, pieces of glass fall from the pane into the kitchen sink. In no time flat the spare bits of timber are nailed over the opening. Tomasi returns through the back door, his coat dripping from the rain.

  ‘Thank you. I really appreciate you fixing that for me.’