Once Upon an Island

“He’s going to propose,” I say, certain that important means proposal.

Arya swallows and then nods, repressing a smile. She’s in her usual get-up: cargo pants, long-sleeve oxford shirt with the Department of the Environment logo and hiking boots, but she’s looking especially beautiful today. I’d say it’s love.

I wonder, if I ever fall into true love, if I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror and see such a noticeable difference in my appearance? Or will it only be obvious to my friends?

“This calls for banana fritters,” I say.

“Huzzah!” Arya jokes.

I laugh and get busy frying up Arya’s favorite breakfast. While I cook she details every moment of the previous night. How she and Percy had the most fascinating discussion about migration patterns, the nesting habits of cave swallows, and how he saved a sparrow with a broken wing when he was a boy.

When everyone discovered that Declan and I were missing, Percy and Renee took charge and notified the coastguard and mounted the search. In Arya’s eyes, Percy is the perfect man, and I can’t see anything to dissuade her.

“You’re going to be very happy,” I say.

She smiles as I set a plate of fritters on the table. The caramelized banana and sugar scent wafts up. My mouth waters in anticipation of the first sweet, crisp bite.

My doorbell rings.

Arya and I both look toward the front of the house.

“Who else?” I ask.

Not Declan. I flush. Maybe Declan. No, definitely not Declan.

“La-La, are you up?” Kate yells. Then, she hollers, “Wake up!” Which, I think, woke every man, woman, child and creature on this side of the island.

Arya smirks at me.

“At least she waited until seven thirty,” I say.

I hurry to the living room and pull open the front door. I gesture for her to come in. “Morning, sunshine. Arya’s already here. There’s banana fritter’s on—”

“They’re gone,” she cuts me off.

Her nose is pink and her eyes are red rimmed. Has she been crying?

She isn’t as put together and stylish as usual. In fact, she’s without make-up, in sweatpants, flip flops and a tank top, and her hair is knotted and uncombed.

“Are you okay?” I ask. I’m shocked at her appearance.

She opens her eyes wide and pushes past me into the living room.

“Did you hear me? They’re gone.” She says this like she’s announcing a hurricane hit the island while we were sleeping.

I shut the door behind her and follow her into the kitchen. Arya has already cleared a third of the fritters and has a fork halfway to her mouth.

“Err, morning, Kate. Want some?” she asks. Her mouth is full so it sounds more like errrmorning ate. Aant rum?

Kate gives her a look that seems to ask, how can you be eating at a time like this?

“They’ve left the island,” Kate says.

Arya shrugs and pops the forkful of fritter into her mouth.

I grab another mug and pour Kate a cup of coffee. She looks like she could use it. I hand it to her.

“You should start from the beginning,” I say.

Kate sets the coffee down on the kitchen table and lets out a long sigh. Her shoulders cave inward and I think she’s trying to hold in tears.

“They left on the seven a.m. flight to Miami.”

Oh. I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I’m not letting myself reach the logical conclusion. Arya puts down her fork and gives Kate her full attention.

“Who left?” she asks.

Kate winces. “Declan and Percy.”

For a moment, Arya looks upset. She puts her hand on her stomach and I think maybe she regrets eating so many fritters. But then she brightens.

“Oh. Oh, that’s so sweet.” She smiles at me. “I bet he went on a day trip. Maybe he’s going to pick up something special at a store in Miami.”

An engagement ringgoes unsaid.

“They’ll catch the five o’clock flight back tonight,” Arya says. She nods at me, reassured by her own logic.

I’m not so reassured. Kate wouldn’t look like she does if they were coming back tonight.

“You don’t understand,” Kate says. She looks at Arya and then at me. The coffee in my empty stomach churns uncomfortably.

“Declan left a voicemail this morning. He and Percy have decided to leave the island. He won’t be needing me as his realtor anymore because he won’t be returning.” Her lower lip wobbles.

“Won’t be returning tonight?” Arya asks.

Kate shakes her head.

“Won’t be returning this week?” she asks.

Kate gives her a level look. “Won’t be returning ever.”

“Ever, ever?” Arya asks.

Kate falls down into a kitchen chair and drops her head to the table. She knocks her forehead against the wood and moans, “My white whale”—thump, she knocks her forehead on the table again. “My ticket home”—thump—“gone”—thump—“my white whale’s gooooone.” Thump.

Arya stares at Kate, and I don’t think what Kate’s saying has sunk in.

Arya taps Kate’s shoulder and she stops knocking her head against the table to look up.

“What? Can’t you see I’m mourning the loss of my triumphant return home?”

“Pull it together,” Arya says. She grabs a fritter and waves it in front of Kate’s face. Kate takes a bite, brightens and then grabs the fritter to eat the rest.

When she’s swallowed the entire thing, Arya asks, “Are you certain Percy left too?”

I can only imagine what Arya’s thinking. If Percy has left, he isn’t going to meet her tonight, and he certainly isn’t going to ask her his important question.

“I’m certain,” Kate says. “He specifically said, ‘Mr. Oliver and I are leaving the island. We will not be returning. It doesn’t suit our needs. Please discontinue the search for properties. That is all.’”

I cringe a bit at her cold recitation of his voicemail. Unfortunately, I can easily imagine him saying something like that.

My chest feels a little achy and hollow.