My plan to leave before the sun rose had quickly evolved to a more intelligent attempt. If I’d jumped in a kayak then and there, without supplies, I wouldn’t have travelled far.
I didn’t want to be like the girls Sully said who’d attempted escape, only to be found sun-blistered and delirious from drinking saltwater.
This was my one chance.
I would not waste it.
Striding into the walk-in wardrobe where an array of priceless jewelled gowns and expensive island garments waited, I selected a seagrass woven beach bag and carried it back to the bed.
Surveying my chosen belongings, visualizing what my future held, I began to pack.
* * * * *
Time crawled.
I wanted to leave the moment I’d prepared myself, but I couldn’t leave until the final check. Until darkness had descended and I wouldn’t be seen rowing out to sea.
Dinner was delivered at seven p.m.
The man peered suspiciously, ensuring I still resided where I should.
I ate everything I could without passing out in a food coma and saved the rest that would travel. I had an additional four water bottles, extra sunscreen, and two pairs of sunglasses. Sully had been generous with my wardrobe, and I’d taken everything that would aid my journey. After I’d packed my bag, I’d spent a stupidly long time trying to decide if I took the diamond that’d been paid to me for allowing a man to treat me like some horny cavewoman.
The stone twinkled in my palm but instead of promising cash if I traded it if I escaped, it only captured facets of that fantasy. A heady, heavy reminder of what I’d done and what I’d become.
I didn’t want anything to remind me of how far I’d fallen.
The diamond returned to its dark home in my bedside drawer, and I turned my back on it. On the man who’d paid for my pleasure.
At eight p.m., the sun had set deep enough that the stars and their crescent moon had taken up residency in the velvet night.
I dressed in a cheesecloth blouse, longest skirt I had, and floppy straw hat, then slung my heavy bag over my shoulder. If the sun still shone, I could’ve explained my behaviour on wanting to sunbake on a different beach than my own…with a picnic for six and clothing for an entire weekend.
However, with the lanterns my only form of illumination as I tiptoed down the laneway, my attempt at escape might be foiled before I even stepped foot in the sea.
Reaching the end of the path, I took refuge in my bush. I waited and watched, ensuring no tipsy goddesses had decided to share wine and gossip on the sand.
Nothing.
No one.
Silence.
It seemed everyone had been requested to stay in their respective villas because the aura of the island was subdued.
The palms hung as if in loneliness for Sully’s return. The orchids not as vibrantly purple. Remove Sully from his home and the very ground where he resided mourned.
Poor Pika.
Where was that feathered fiend? Was he still sulking in a tree or had he vanished into the centre of the island to drown his sorrows on hibiscus like Sully had suggested?
When no one appeared after ten minutes, I sucked in a breath.
It’s now or never.
Last chance.
My heart skipped a beat as the tiniest fragment of hesitation filled me.
My ending on this island had come and I didn’t know why that made me pause. Why a small piece of me would forever remember Sully and his paradisiac utopia.
Go!
Stop thinking about him.
Stop being an idiot!
Gritting my teeth, I scurried from my bush, flung my bag into the closest kayak, then threw my weight against the jade green fibreglass, shoving the sleek craft toward the tide.
It hissed over the sand, slipping on its side, making the oar clank against its innards.
I froze.
I looked back at the treeline.
No one appeared.
I pushed again, coaxing it to ease closer and closer to the shore.
Come on. Come on!
With my heart in my mouth, I kept pushing until the back of it went weightless, twisting to sit upright and buoyant as the sea claimed it.
With warm water lapping at my ankles, I held up my skirt and looked back one final time.
The treeline remained empty.
The island seemed poised and pregnant with promise. Trees and foliage watched me leave. Tropical beauty said goodbye.
Go!
With a shaky breath, I clambered into the kayak and collected the oar.
I’d only ever manned a watercraft once before. It’d been five years ago during the summer holidays. We’d gone to a lake, and my friend’s brother had a kayak that he took us around in. He’d promised he’d keep me safe, but in the centre of the huge lake, he’d dived in and swam home, leaving me to row back on my own.
I’d hated it.
I’d had no arm strength and blisters covered my palms by the time I docked, shaky and angry, vowing never to use such a torture device again.