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And, instead of thinking with my heart, and saying yes because I love him, my head is once again filled with confusion. All I can think about is how my family who are back home will react? What will they say if I tell them I’m getting married again?
Then my own reservations surfaced too to present their side of the argument.
I’d been married before. So had Ethan. So why do it over again?
Tears welled up in my eyes. I tried desperately to blink them away.
Ethan’s handsome face was becoming oddly distorted.
I fought my panic and conflicting emotions and prepared to explain myself to him.
Perhaps I needed a little more time? Time to think.
Surely there was no urgency or reason for us to rush into anything?
Wasn’t us just being together and loving each other enough?
But when my vision cleared, I could see that his expression had indeed changed from romantically anxious to something that resembled downright furious. His eyes, just a moment ago were soft and loving and kind, were now wide and blazing and murderous.
Had I offended him so badly, with my hesitation, my reluctance?
And then I realised that he wasn’t looking at me at all.
He was looking right past me and over my left shoulder.
So, I turned to follow his distracted gaze and my mouth dropped open in astonishment.
At the far end of the beach, at the headland, where there where some giant boulders, there was also a giant construction crane. There was also a man-made jetty type structure jutting out into the sea with its concrete piles buried into the coral reef.
What the Hell was happening here!?
What about the pristine virgin eco-system? What about the untouched reef?
And what had happened to Ethan’s lawyers securing the hundred-year lease?
Suddenly, Ethan was no longer down on one knee. He was on his feet and running along the beach. I ran after him. My heart racing. My breath dry and rasping in the salt laden air. Sweat pumped and rolled from every pore on my body in the heat and humidity and under the ferocity of the midday sun. When I caught up with him, for a moment we stood side by side, panting in disbelief, at the offending machinery and chaos of construction that had already destroyed a whole section of coral reef. ‘I just don’t understand. It’s supposed to be ours!’ Ethan hissed.
Then, in a glimmering shimmering mirage, I saw a group of people.
Before I could even say a word, Ethan had spotted them too, and he was already scrambling in their direction. Again, I followed him in hot pursuit and saw that there were in fact four people standing in a huddle, perusing a document that looked like it might be a building plan.
There were three men and a woman. Two of the men, wearing hi-vis vests and construction helmets, were obviously the labour workforce here because they appeared to be listening to instructions from the other man. The one doing the talking was tall and well built, deeply tanned, silver haired, and smartly dressed in tailored shorts and a white linen short-sleeved shirt. This man had the air about him of someone incredibly important and affluent.
The woman standing beside him was willowy slim. She was wearing a pale-yellow sundress and large brimmed white straw hat. Beneath the hat, I could see she had a small heart-shaped face and that she had long bright red hair that she wore in a heavy braid over one shoulder. All four wore sunglasses, but still managed to look surprised to see us as we approached them.
I stopped a short distance from them and wrung my hands anxiously. This was awful.
I’d never seen Ethan so angry. Not even that time when we’d come across a gang of rogue fishermen using sticks of dynamite to fish on a coral reef in the Sulu Sea.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ He exploded, as soon as he’d got close enough.
The woman whipped off her sunglasses to reveal wide steely grey eyes. She fixed her gaze on Ethan, with what appeared to be familiarity. Then she suddenly started to laugh through her shimmering red lip-gloss. Her laughter sounding like the playful tinkle of sleigh bells. I couldn’t decide if she was brave or incredibly foolish to mock Ethan in such a way. The last time someone had dared to laugh in his face, he’d performed a citizen’s arrest and locked the offender in the hold, until he could be handed over to the authorities at our next port of call.
‘Well, what a surprise. If it isn’t the famous Ethan Goldman!’
Had she recognised him because he was quite famous?
Or did she actually know him?
Oh Lord, please tell me this isn’t another ex-wife!
‘I could ask you the very same question, brother!’ Snapped the smartly dressed man.
Brother? Was that a term of endearment or was this man Ethan’s actual brother?!
I narrowed my eyes and recognised the line of this man’s hair, the broadness of his brow, the strength of his jawline, the shape of his eyebrows, the contour of his profile and the clincher that was his aquiline nose. This man was Ethan but perhaps in ten years’ time.
Otherwise they were clones. Time twins. Doppelgangers.
What did this mean exactly?
Did it mean that this man – whom I trust implicitly with my life and whom I love with all my heart and who has caused me so much angst over whether or not to return to my own family and who had just proposed to me with a diamond ring on a perfect beach on bended knee – has blatantly lied to me all this time about his so-called lack of family?
Chapter 3 (#ulink_4c13e98d-8b2f-5b99-8713-aa0c09d8db5f)
George Town, Grand Cayman (#ulink_4c13e98d-8b2f-5b99-8713-aa0c09d8db5f)
When Ethan is upset, he’s a man of very few words. I know this from experience because after a particularly traumatic incident at sea, involving a fully grown female whale and a Japanese whaling ship off the coast of the Philippines, when our ship The Freedom of the Ocean had arrived a little too late to save the whale but just in time to witness the terrible distress caused to her young calf, Ethan had hardly spoken a word for days afterwards.
When I’m upset, however, I need to talk it through. I need to micro-thrash the details.
So as we hurtled back towards Tortola at breakneck speed in our speedboat, I wanted to know how and why these people were drilling holes in Waterfall Cay – when it was supposed to be our island and our new home – and why, out of nowhere, it turns out that Ethan has a brother called Damion and a sister in law called Gloria.
But, when I voice my concerns and my confusion to him, I get the silent treatment.
Once we are back on Tortola, however, it appears we are on speaking terms again.
He tells me he’s taking a flight over to Grand Cayman to talk with his lawyers.
I point out that it’s already late in the afternoon. He assures me it can’t wait.
I say I’m going with him. The next thing I know we’re in a car heading to the airport.
I broach the subject again. It’s killing me that he’s lied to me. I need to know why.
My heart is so heavy right now that it hurts and I’m drowning in my own disappointment.
I’ve been the victim of lies once before and I’d promised myself never again.
My ex-husband lied to me and so did my best friend. It was cruel and soul destroying.
But Ethan? My strong, unshakable, dependable, rock? Well, that is truly heartbreaking.
Now, I look at him and I can’t help but to wonder what else I don’t know about him?
How many other secrets he might be hiding and keeping from me?
What other aspects about himself he might currently deny but eventually admit?
Ethan is slumped in his seat, his hand rubbing his forehead, as if he’s easing a pain.
‘I didn’t lie to you, Lori. He’s just no longer my brother. Hasn’t been for a long time.’
‘But he’s your sibling.’ I argued. ‘Just because you disowned each other doesn’t mean you’re no longer related. It’s not like divorcing Marielle. Your brother is family. He’s blood!’
‘Lori, forgive me, but this is not the time. I have to find out what happened with the lease.’
I bite my tongue and steel myself to stay silent. Not easy when I have so many questions.
And then, of course, there’s the elephant between us.
His marriage proposal is still hanging in the air.
At the airport, Ethan quickly charters a private jet. It takes us two hours to fly over to George Town on Grand Cayman. On the plane, in my big comfortable seat opposite Ethan, I sip a glass of champagne that was spontaneously offered to us after take-off. Only, it tastes sour in my mouth. Ethan didn’t even touch his. He just stared out of the small oval window, frowning.
At the lawyer’s office, I prefer to sit in the reception area listening to the heated exchange going on at the other side of a closed door. I check my phone. It’s 6pm here and so that means 11pm in the UK. It’s now too late to call my mum or my boys.
I decided to call Josh anyway and to leave another message.
When Ethan comes out of the lawyer’s office his face is red with rage.
‘Come on, Lori. Let’s get out of here. I need a drink.’
We walked two blocks and into a bar. I order a glass of wine.
Ethan orders straight bourbon. A double.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?’ I asked him tentatively.
He threw back his bourbon and swallowed it. ‘We lost it.’
I’m starting to feel sorry for him now. My heart softens. My anger dissipates.
I actually consider wrapping my arms around him to offer him some comfort because if Ethan’s drinking doubles then he’s having the worst day ever. And I’ve seen Ethan having bad days. Like the time we just happen to lose an underwater (thankfully unmanned) research drone that was apparently worth over a million US dollars. I consider his words for a moment.
‘How? I don’t understand. How did you lose an island?’
‘He got to the lease before us. His plan is to build a luxury hotel resort on the island.’
I shrug. ‘This isn’t like you, Ethan. If he got there first, then why all the resentment?’
Ethan was usually so philosophical about everything. I’ve never seen him harbour any hard feelings towards anyone. The need for justice, yes, absolutely. But, when faced with an unfairness, he’s normally the first person to say, ‘whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye’ which in Scottish, is the same as ‘what is meant for you by fate won’t pass you by.’
Obviously, he felt very differently regarding this particular situation.
‘Because he played dirty. I can’t believe he actually pretended to be me to get hold of that lease and then he took it for himself. He cheated us out of that island. Now do you understand?’
I nod my head slowly and I feel badly. I remember my ex-husband Charles doing something like that to me. He’d taken out a loan in my name because he’d been refused the credit. I only found out about it when he’d defaulted on the payments. ‘Yes. I think I do.’
‘Do you want to go back to Geluk Island for a while, Lori?’
I nod and offer a little smile and place my hand on his and give it a little squeeze.
Last January, we’d spent a blissful six weeks together on the island paradise called Geluk.
The name, pronounced Gluck, means ‘place of happiness’ and indeed we were very happy there. Ethan, or rather his foundation, the GGF, has an oceanic research centre on the Caribbean island. We’d spent our mornings working and diving on the coral reef and our afternoons upstairs in our private quarters making love. In the early evenings, we’d meet up with locals and friends at a beach bar at sundown, to enjoy rum cocktails and grilled seafood and spectacular sunsets. Then, hand in hand and under a sky full of stars, we’d stroll lazily back up the beach to our simple loft room under the swaying palm trees with its bamboo furniture and wooden shuttered windows. It was a perfect way of life. Idyllic, in fact.
The island, like Ethan, had quickly claimed my heart.
It was easy for me to imagine that we might have stayed on Geluk Island forever. Ethan had said that he’d once felt the same way about it. The island is situated in a sheltered bay between the Cayman Islands and the coast of Honduras. It’s often described by those who know of it as a well-kept secret – and they’d liken it to a Key West of the 1930’s era; a laid back and sleepy little gem of an island in the eastern Caribbean Sea.
Until of course that secret got out and the tiny tropical paradise became invaded by tourists.
On most days, it looked exactly how you might imagine a Caribbean island before any commercial tourism arrived. With just one main street and locally owned shops and businesses and quiet bars and restaurants. A commercial boat came in twice a week with imported supplies and the islanders principally trade in fish and shellfish and are self-sufficient in tropical fruits and coconuts. There are no cars there and there’s no pollution. People get about on bicycles or they simply walked everywhere as nowhere is too far away from anything else on Geluk.
There’s a real and very special sense of community amongst the population.
But, being so conveniently close to the Cayman Islands and now part of the new and popular cruise routes, means that half the time there are hordes of people on the island spoiling the ideal and the idyllic. Plus, Ethan is a kind of celebrity. Lots of people know of him and his work. Especially those in the diving community. He’s often recognised in the street and approached by strangers in bars and while simply trying to have a quiet drink and minding his own business.
He hates all the fuss. Especially if he’s being asked for his autograph.
So, I guess we’ll just have to move on and find our paradise home somewhere else now.
Or not. I mean, now that his dream of living on a private island in the BVIs has been taken away from him, I must once again wonder if he will ever want to settle down anywhere else?
And, is it even in Ethan’s nature to live in one place?
He’s an activist. A man of the world. And what about me?
I must question whether or not I am truly a woman of the world?
I can’t help but to doubt myself. Yes, I want to travel. Yes, I want to be with Ethan.
I’m still being torn in two by my wanderlust and my desire for stability.
But all those ‘wants’ feel so selfish when to claim them for myself means I have to treat my family like they no longer exist. I met a Buddhist monk in a golden temple in Thailand once, and he told me that Buddha says that you should remove the ‘I’ from ‘I want something’ because it is your ego, and you should remove the ‘want’ also because it is your greed. Then you’ll be left with your ‘something.’
And, as much as I try to reason with myself and apply all that I’ve learned over this past year into my decision making, that angel and devil of good and bad and positive and negative, sit on my shoulders to this very day to constantly whisper into my ears and taunt me.
