Stuck in Paradise with You

Chapter 38

38

LUKE

After hours, or however long we spent, in the dull light of the bunker, though the sky is grey and cloudy and, at my best guess, it’s late afternoon, I still squint as Dave and Joe pull open the steel doors and I step outside, Carrie’s hand in mine, leading her into the natural air. The wind hasn’t completely subsided but it feels more like a standard tropical storm out now, than an unruly beast.

‘I’ve never been so glad to see you, matey,’ Joe says, snatching me into an embrace, breaking my contact with Carrie.

‘I’m sorry, Joe,’ she says from behind me. ‘It’s my fault. Jessie ran and I instinctively went after her.’

Joe pulls away from me and tugs Carrie into a similarly rough and compassionate hug. ‘No apologies necessary, I’m just glad you’re okay.’ Jessie barks, jumping at Joe. ‘Thank you for rescuing our Jessie.’

‘Arguably, she wouldn’t have been in danger if I hadn’t lingered outside, so?—’

‘She was a scared dog, Carrie. She ran of her own accord.’ Joe’s words are firm, leaving no room for discussion, and I’m pleased for them. Carrie doesn’t need to add guilt to everything we’ve felt in the last twenty-four hours.

I feel like I’ve lived every emotion today already. As if Carrie and I have had a conversation that’s been building and that needed to happen for a very long time. I already feel relieved and depleted, burned out.

Still, none of it has prepared me for what I see when I finally look around the island. Charithonia has been devastated. Every tree and plant has been ripped from its roots or snapped and tossed away by the force of the hurricane. Green land replaced by barren dirt. Evidence of the ocean’s surge can be seen halfway up the rockface – debris deposited as it has receded, though it still completely consumes the beach and lower rockface. There are branches and tree trunks, coconuts and roof tiles, scattered everywhere.

As we walk up to the main walkway, we have to navigate fallen trees. The main electricity and phone lines have been torn from the cement in the ground and lie across our path. Though the main structures of the house and the pods are intact, the terrace is gone, the infinity pools are covered by trees, corrugated iron, random pieces of furniture that I don’t think emanated from this island. One of the large ceiling fans from the terrace has pierced what is left of the roof over Carrie’s pod, the arms poking out like a V from the top.

The four of us and Jessie are stilled by the sight. To my side, Carrie brings her hands to her mouth and I fold her under my arm as we stare at the place she could have been sleeping.

‘To think most of this is superficial,’ Joe says contemplatively. ‘It’s one of life’s greatest injustices that where you’re born dictates whether you still have a place to call home today. As soon as we can get across to the other islands to help, we will.’

Of that, we’re all in agreement.

‘The most important thing is we’re all safe and well,’ Dave says.

I don’t know what it is about their words but something makes me pull Carrie closer and press my lips to her hair. Makes me realize how important it is that I don’t let her go again. Not this time.

I’ll do whatever it takes to convince her.

We spend the last hours of relative light rescuing what we can from inside the damaged pods and the staff studios. The main house is remarkably undamaged beyond the superficial and we find everyone who needs to move location a spot to sleep either in a different pod or in the Hettich family home.

Joe makes the call that we’ll only use the electricity that’s absolutely necessary on account of having two large but not infallible generators and not knowing when the mains power will be fixed and reconnected.

There’s no phone signal and no Wi-Fi to get word out to anyone off the island, other than a general note to say we’re all accounted for by radio. We have no idea of the extent of the damage elsewhere but, thankfully, it seems there were no deaths across the islands. Amazing, really.

With Troy, as the only qualified chef, taking the lead and the rest of us sitting by candlelight in the main lounge and dining area, helping out as best we can, we all share a meal of pasta and various garlic breads. Nothing extravagant, though Troy somehow manages to make us forget that we aren’t eating in a fancy restaurant. It’s almost romantic, with the dim lights, medicinal wine, and everyone telling nostalgic tales.

The mood is strange; there’s a heaviness in the back of people’s minds yet lightness in speech, and laughter. There’s a definite sense that we’re putting a front on things for the kids, even for one another. Yet we really feel like a family. A community. With a sense of shared experience and appreciation for life. In a bizarre twist, it’s one of the happiest meals I’ve had.

Through it all, Carrie is never far from my side. She’s afraid of what is or could be between us. I get it. Hell, me too. But I saw it in her eyes in that concrete shell, and even if she can’t articulate it or won’t let herself feel it yet, I know she feels something deep for me. Whether it’s love, I don’t know yet. But the way I feel about her tonight might be strong enough for both of us.

After dinner, Alisha, Ella and Lola leave to take the little humans to bed. By the time they return, Joe has poured the rest of us each a strong drink. The kind that takes the sting out of the day much better than the wine we shared over dinner. But after one more drink with my friends, old and new, the fatigue of the day, the last few days, kicks in. I yawn from my spot on the sofa in the lounge and glance to Carrie. I’ll stay up as long as she wants to, then I’ll make sure she’s set up in her new pod and that she’s feeling okay.

I find her already looking my way, her drink barely touched and set on a coffee table next to the chair where her legs are snugly curled beneath her. She looks exhausted.

‘Shall we get you set up for bed?’ I ask her.

‘I’d appreciate that.’

Leaving takes ten minutes, everyone hugging and whispering words of friendship and love. It warms me to the core the way my friends and closest confidantes have welcomed Carrie into our fold. The way they seem to genuinely care about her. It’s not as if I’ve sung her praises over the years. Not that I’ve slandered her either, but Joe and I have shared some late-night drinks, had some heart-to-hearts in that Mad Men kind of way over a single malt or two and I’m sure, on reflection, that I’ve not always spoken generously about Carrie. How could I have? I didn’t know our full story until this week. I had to think of self-preservation.

Yet Joe arranged for her to be here and as mad as I am about that, and that she got caught up in Hurricane Isabel, we’re through the storm now, coming out the other side, and part of me wonders what it was that Joe saw or heard to make him bring her here.

I’m not sure why I do it but once I’ve spoken to everyone, agreed we’ll make an early start on repairing what we can tomorrow, and wished them a safe, sound sleep, I hold out my hand for Carrie. She stares at it before slipping her palm into mine, and I lead us out into the night, using a torch as a guide, though unbelievably, the sky is clear enough for the moon to be lighting our way along the now treacherous path.

Rather than being in the pod next door to mine, Carrie’s new pod is two away from me. I’m reminded just how lucky we were today as we pass the disaster of her old room. Carrie’s fingers tighten around mine, as if she’s having the same thought.

It feels right to be walking hand-in-hand. At the same time, strange to let go when we arrive at her new bedroom for the night. We brought down her luggage earlier and set up a couple of candles ready to light inside.

We each light a candle, and on my part, do so hating the thought of Carrie spending the night alone. It doesn’t feel right, and when I turn to tell her, she’s already right behind me.

‘Carrie, I don’t?—’

‘Luke, would you mind?—’

‘Sorry, you go.’

‘No, you go.’

We share a tight laugh. ‘Are you sure you want to stay here, alone?’ I ask. ‘We could move you up to the main house; I’m sure there’s another space. Or?—’

‘Or?’

Is she suggesting what I’m thinking? If she were, it would stop me from having palpitations over it right now.

‘Stay with me,’ I blurt, nervously. ‘I can take the floor, or the lounge chair. I don’t mean— I just don’t think you should be on your own tonight. It’s been a big day and?—’

‘I’d like that.’ She smiles softly. It’s there in her eyes. God, I’ve missed that look. ‘Thank you. I’m sure we’re adult enough to share a bed the size of a planet without regressing to teenagers on prom night.’

I chortle. ‘Speak for yourself.’

Her laughter bursts from her and after what has been one of the longest, most draining days of my life, it’s such a welcome sound.

We blow out the candles, head back to my pod with Carrie’s luggage, clean off using a bucket of water from the tank under the pod, and eventually, shattered, slip under the covers.

Even though she’s wearing silk shorts and a cami and looks incredible; despite the fact I’m only wearing boxer briefs; and though we are lying in the same bed, beneath the same white sheet we made love on last night, we’re so exhausted that even if my hormones screamed at me to seduce this implausibly beautiful woman, I wouldn’t have the energy.

Which is perfect, really, because this is the start of me showing Carrie that we aren’t just about sex.

We lie side by side, facing each other, each resting our heads on a hand, a reflection of each other.

‘It’s been a day,’ she whispers.

In so many ways. ‘If I promise I’m not making a move and I’m literally going to fall asleep within seconds, could we cuddle?’

One side of her lips turns up. ‘Why? Did you forget your favorite teddy bear?’

I smile at her playful obstinance and tuck her hair behind her ear. ‘Something like that.’

Her smile disappears but she shuffles my way. I roll onto my back and she lies like she used to, her head on my chest, one leg bent across mine. I blow out the candle on the bedside table and wrap my arm around her. I listen to her breathe. Once, twice, three times…

We didn’t move all night. We crashed, both of us, and the feel of Carrie shuffling on my chest, exactly where she fell asleep hours ago, is the first thing that makes me move.

Sunlight streams through the windows around us, a complete contrast to waking up yesterday in a dark room, alone.

If it wasn’t for knowing how busy the coming days will be and that I have no clue where Carrie’s head is at when it comes to us, this would be a pretty perfect way to wake in the morning.

Carrie hums against me, cuddling in tighter. Then I watch her eyelids flutter open and see the realization hit her – we’re in bed together. I hold my breath, bracing for her reaction, blown away when she rolls onto her front, both hands on my chest, and beams up at me.

The only reason I know my heart hasn’t physically exploded is because I feel so alive.

‘Good morning,’ she whispers, as if she hasn’t just made this the best ever start to the day in the history of mankind.

She’s looking at me like… like she used to.

I’m too shocked to speak and she plugs the silence by telling me, ‘You’re a very comfy pillow, Mr Chalmers.’

‘Let me see. A room, plus a pillow and designated cuddler for an entire night. I reckon five hundred should cover it,’ I tease.

‘Dollars?’ She comes up to sit. Her leg position means that with a slight nudge to her left, she’s straddling my hips. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’

I’m desperate to run my hands along her legs, up to her hips. To pull her down to me, her hair hanging in my face, and kiss her. Since I’m not sure I’ve been invited to do that, I take my hands behind my head and smirk. ‘It’s a nice room and my left pec isn’t cheap.’

She giggles, playful, youthful, brighter than the rays of sun bursting in through the windows, then moves to strike me. I’ve seen this move from her before, countless times. It’s one of her flirts.

I catch one hand before she can flick my chest, then catch the other when she tries with the other hand, and somehow, we end up where I wasn’t sure we could go, with her on all fours, her hands in mine either side of my head, long tendrils hanging down and teasing my skin. She’s exactly where I want her to be and we’re locked on each other. I see lust in her dilating pupils that’s a match for mine.

In the blink of an eye, something comes over her, taking away the look she was wearing and making her hop off the bed.

‘We should get dressed,’ she says. ‘I’m sure it’s going to be a busy day.’

She grabs clothes from her suitcase and scurries into my washroom, closing the door too quickly and too hard behind her.

Tell me you’re not into me without telling me you’re not into me.

The frustrating thing is, I think she is into me, us . There are moments I think we’ll leave this island, whenever we manage to get off Charithonia, together, as a couple.

And many, many more moments when I fear we’ll each leave alone. Me in significantly worse shape than I was when I arrived because Pandora’s box has been opened.

Carrie takes only minutes getting dressed, though enough time for me to pull on a pair of shorts. When she steps back into the room, she stares at my bare chest, embarrassed all of a sudden, her cheeks flush, despite spending the night lying on this same part of my body.

‘You didn’t need to go in the bathroom, Carrie.’ I pull my t-shirt on over my head. ‘I’ve seen you naked once or twice before.’

She gives a tight laugh. ‘I know. But it’s different now.’ She fusses with her luggage, then stands, pulling her hair into a tie as I tug on socks and sneakers. ‘Luke, as far as everyone else is concerned, please can we just say I slept in my own pod. I mean, if it even comes up.’

Her words cut like a dagger.

‘Sure.’

She folds her arms across her chest. ‘It’s just I wouldn’t want anyone to think?—’

‘That we’re two consenting adults who spent the night in the same bed, comforting each other after a really long and disastrous day?’

She sighs.

‘It’s fine, Carrie. Our dirty secret won’t be disclosed by me.’

‘Thank you.’ She shifts her tone to something breezier as she points to her black t-shirt with the Charithonia staff logo on the breast pocket. ‘I’m technically staff now, and I don’t want to be seen as fraternizing with my guests.’

Unfortunately, I’m not feeling quite so breezy. Not when her joke has nailed the exact reason she doesn’t want anyone to think there’s something going on between us.

Because… ‘I get it. Work means that much to you.’

‘Luke.’

Her words land on my back as I make to leave the room and head outside to wait for her, before she can see DISAPPOINTMENT spelled out on my face. ‘It’s a shame Hettich doesn’t have the same work–life boundaries you do, huh?’

My own words cut me to say, because the implication is, it would have been better if she hadn’t come here at all.

There’s not even a cell in my body that believes that.