Island of Secrets and Scars

Chapter Seven

Cameron stood on the beach as a wall of water rose in front of her. Craning her neck, she tried to find the top, to no avail. The wave loomed above her, threatening to crash, but never breaking. In the middle of the wave, bodies thrashed, while others simply floated, life already leaving them behind.

In the middle, Arabella struggled. Panic flared in Cameron’s chest, propelling her forward. Frantic, she fought to get to her baby before the wave drowned the girl. When she reached the edge of the sand, the wave crashed over her. The water pulled her under. She kicked her feet and reached out with her hands, trying to break the surface, but it was as if she swam through wet cement. Glancing down, she spotted a bony hand wrapped around her ankle. Rotting flesh clung to the hand in places. In others it hung loosely, ready to fall. Parting her lips to scream, she made the mistake of allowing water to pour into her mouth. She tried to empty her mouth of the saltwater and press her lips together again, but the endeavor proved useless. Now that the ocean had found its way inside, it became determined to take over.

Kicking harder now, Cameron fought to free her foot. She folded at the waist to reach the hand. The icy fingers clung to her. Her gaze followed the hand up an arm covered in soggy skin, stopping at the face that still haunted her. Staring back at her was the wide-eyed boy whom she’d come face-to-face with on a deserted lane in Africa. This time, when she screamed, the ocean swallowed her whole.

Cameron jerked awake, banging her knee on the desk. Biting back a curse, she swiped the sweat from her forehead. Since the plane explosion, she hadn’t slept for more than a half-hour or so a night. Even now, when she’d found a moment to herself for some quiet, her mind fought to keep her awake. She closed her eyes, again seeing the face of the child soldier whom she’d helped in Africa, only to have him turn on her later. He, like hers and Ian’s daughter, was dead now. Ultimately, her time in Africa hadn’t helped either child.

Deciding no more sleep would come to her tonight, she pushed to her feet and plodded down the hall to her daughter’s hospital room. Keso sat by the girl’s bed. Unlike Cameron, he had no trouble sleeping. With his bare feet propped on Ara’s mattress and his head tossed back so his blond curls fell away from his tanned face, he slept like the dead. Only the dead from Cameron’s past refused to sleep.

Maybe some fresh air would help clear her dark thoughts. She’d been in this stuffy, brick and mud shack for over forty-eight hours. With Keso staying with Ara, she could sneak away. Usually, she started her mornings with yoga on the beach. Perhaps getting back to her routine would help her.

* * *

Ian jogged down the worn path, past a small cottage and through a clearing. In front of him, the ocean lay surrounded by walls of rock and lush green foliage. The view in front of him had him so enthralled, he almost missed the woman by the water. Cameron stood on one foot, her other pressed to the inside of her standing leg. As her chest rose on an inhale, she lifted her hands at her sides and over her head. Her leg shook, her whole body trembling. He held his breath, watching as her body stretched, tan and glistening with sweat in the sunshine. The backless tank she wore over a bikini top revealed lines of scars snaking over her back. The same scars he saw in his dreams. His gaze traced the path of the flames that had ravaged her back as she lay curled over her belly, trying to protect their child while fire rained over her. After she’d regained consciousness, he’d never seen the marks again. Looking back, Cameron’s leaving shouldn’t have surprised him. In hindsight, he realized that the moment she opened her eyes in Africa, she’d mentally started packing her bags. They hadn’t touched again. The words I love you never crossed her lips, no matter how many times he uttered them. The woman he loved had stepped into a trap between warring villages, causing an explosion that had killed their child and left only the husk of his lover behind.

On her mat, Cameron’s leg trembled, her hands coming apart to grab at the air for balance. She swayed side to side as she shifted her foot, searching for stability. Finally, her raised foot slammed to the earth, and she cursed.

A smile tugged at Ian’s lips. “Isn’t yoga supposed to be peaceful?”

Cameron yelped and spun around. Another string of curses littered the air between them.

He chuckled. “You kiss your daughter goodnight with that mouth?”

“I should’ve known you were nearby,” she muttered. “I couldn’t concentrate for shit.”

Stalking across the sand toward her, he smirked. “Thinking about me?”

Her narrowed eyes told him he’d hit the mark, but she didn’t like it.

She turned away, again revealing her scars. The waxy skin made his stomach clench, not in disgust, but in regret for the loss that marred skin symbolized.

“I’m almost finished. I’ll just get my things and—”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted.

She spun around, stumbling on the shifting sand. He grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Wh…What are you sorry for?”

Concentrating on her words proved difficult with her skin warming his palm. He rubbed his thumb over the tight mound of her bicep. So much of her was tighter, leaner, harder than it had been years ago.

She pulled away. “Why are you sorry?”

Where did he start? He was sorry they’d ever gone to Africa. Sorry they hadn’t left sooner. Sorry he hadn’t been with her to keep her from tripping the explosive. Sorry he couldn’t save their daughter. Sorry he hadn’t been enough to make her glad Wes had saved her. His list of apologies would fill this ocean and rise to drown them both.

He’d start with his most recent fuck up. “You’re not a coward. I shouldn’t have implied that you are when I’ve never believed that.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t respond.

“You’re a survivor,” he continued. “I might not like the way you chose to survive, but I can’t deny that you are.”

Her jaw trembled. She swallowed. “Thank you.”

He nodded. What else could he do when all the words he’d waited five years to say to her were backed up in his throat?

She stared out over the small cove in front of them. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving,” she confessed quietly, without turning to look at him. “But I knew if I told you beforehand, you’d stop me, and I needed to get away.”

“Away from me?” He cringed when his voice broke.

She lifted a bare shoulder. “Away from you and the little apartment our daughter was supposed to live in.” She turned to him then. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “When we got back, I couldn’t stand all those reminders of what we should’ve had.” She squeezed her lips together until the berry color of them bled away to white.