Uncharted (11 page)

Owen

Anna and T.J. don’t say anything at first, and in the silence I swear I can hear the ticking of my watch. My throat burns from talking so long, and my voice is hoarse.

Anna leaves the room and returns with a glass of ice water. She hands it to me and I drink half of it before setting down the glass. I make myself keep talking, because I haven’t told them the worst part.

“There’s more,” I say. “I knew where the island was located. I’d asked one day when we were flying back from one of the supply runs. I didn’t understand a lot of what he said when he started talking about navigational aids and headings and all kinds of things I wasn’t familiar with, so I pulled my journal and a pen out of my duffel bag and asked him to repeat it. I could have easily hired another pilot to take me to the island. I could have been on my way there the next morning. I sat on a bench in the airport terminal for almost two hours, trying to decide whether or not to go back.” I hesitate because this is the moment I’ve been dreading. “But I didn’t because it suddenly seemed pointless. What good was it if I could find the island, but I couldn’t find Calia? So instead of returning to the island, I packed up my stuff and left. Took the first plane out. And that’s why I came here. To tell you how much I regret that decision.”

Anna looks like she might cry. Or throw up. Or faint. T.J. doesn’t look so good either; all the color has drained out of his face. They’re probably remembering their first day on the island, and how desperately they wanted to see a plane fly overhead and land in the lagoon. T.J. reaches for Anna's hand. She’s not crying, but she has that same look on her face that Calia did when James died: shell-shocked.

I know there’s nothing I can say that will change how they feel, so I wait for them to speak.

“You okay, sweetie?” T.J. asks Anna.

She nods her head, takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “I’m okay,” she says.

T.J. begins to speak. “Anna and I have this philosophy. She told me once when we were on the island, ‘What’s done is done.’ We’d discovered your shack and the plastic container you used to collect water. If we’d found it earlier, we might not have drunk the pond water, which meant we wouldn’t have gotten sick and we would have been on the beach when the rescue plane flew over. There was a second plane that flew over after we’d been on the island for about a year. If it had spotted us, we’d have been rescued earlier and Anna would have been able to spend time with her parents before they passed away. But those things didn’t happen. What’s done
is
done. We can hardly blame you for a decision that you had no idea would affect us. We still won, Owen. We survived and we have this great life. I understand why you came here and why needed to tell us your story. But you can let it go, okay?”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so overcome by emotion in my life. I can’t speak, because I’m in danger of breaking down right in front of them. I nod instead, and look away, taking deep breaths. When I find some measure of control I say, “I’m going back to the island, to do what I promised I would do. Knowing what you’ve been through, I feel like it’s the only way for me to come full circle. I’m not staying long—one night only—but I wondered if you might consider coming along, T.J.”

“Is it still there?” T.J. asks. “We thought the island had been decimated during the tsunami.”

“It’s still there. I hired a pilot who agreed to check it out for me, using the information I’d written down about where it was located.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but then he glances at Anna and says, “Thanks. I’m gonna have to pass.”

“I understand,” I say. “Just thought I’d ask.”

A baby’s cries fill the room and it startles me because it’s so loud. T.J. crosses the room and turns down the baby monitor that’s sitting on a side table.

“I’ll check on her,” Anna says. She walks over to me and gives me a hug. “Good night, Owen. It was so nice to meet you.”

It’s late, and T.J. walks me to the door. “When are you going?” he asks.

“My flight to Malé is in seven days. Plenty of time if you should change your mind. And the flight and all expenses would be on me.”

“It would scare Anna.”

“Like I said. I understand completely.”

“Are you flying out of O’Hare?” T.J. asks.

“Yes.”

“Then come back tomorrow night. Have dinner with us again. I’ll invite my friend Ben. I’m sure he’d like to meet you.”

“Okay,” I say. “I will. Thanks. For everything.”

He nods. “Sure. See you tomorrow.”

T.J.

Afterward, when Owen has gone back to his hotel, I walk into the nursery. Anna is sitting in the chair rocking Piper, who is still fussing. “Is it her teeth?” I ask.

Anna nods. “Probably. She’s got one ready to poke through. I gave her some Motrin.”

I cross the room, bend down near the rocking chair, and stroke the baby’s head. “Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” She seems fragile, like she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment. But she won’t; she’s tougher than that.

“That was hard to hear,” I say.

“Yes,” she says. “It took a lot of courage for him to come here.”

I know Anna doesn’t blame Owen, and what I told him was true. We’ve gone down the “if-only” road and we decided a long time ago that there was no sense in dwelling on things we couldn’t change. In the grand scheme of things, we consider ourselves lucky. But Anna lost more than I did while we were on the island, and I’d bet money that she’s thinking about her parents and how much she misses them right now.

“I know you want to go back to the island with Owen,” she says.

I open my mouth to protest, but she shakes her head.

“I know you better than anyone I’ve ever known. I could see it on your face, T.J.”

She’s absolutely right.

I do want to go. And this time I want to arrive and leave under my own power, not be plunged into the ocean or blown off the beach. I want to stand on that sand and know that I’m there on my terms. I want to know that while I’m there, Anna and the kids are safe at home, waiting for me.

“Not one thing was by choice when we were there,” I say. “I would like to stand on that beach and know that I’m the one who’s in control this time.”

“You know I would never hold you back from doing something you wanted to do,” she says. “I think you should go with Owen.”

“You hate that island,” I counter.

“I do,” she says. “I hate that such a beautiful, breathtaking place almost killed us. But without it I wouldn’t have you. And if you want to go back, then go. You have my blessing.”

I nod my head, thinking as I often do that she is the most remarkable person I’ve ever known.

“I’ll come to bed in a minute,” she says. “I’m going to rock Piper.”

Piper has stopped fussing and fallen back to sleep. But I know that it’s Anna’s way of telling me she needs to be alone with her memories for a little while longer, so I kiss both of them and say, “Okay.”

Owen

I’m sitting in Anna and T.J.’s living room the next evening when the doorbell rings.

“That’s probably Ben,” T.J. says. He opens the door and greets his friend, then welcomes him inside.

I rise from my chair and cross the room to where they’re standing.

“This is Owen,” T.J. says.

Ben takes a step toward me with an outstretched hand. “Hey, I’m Ben. It’s nice to meet you. T.J. told me your story. That’s wild, man.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say.

“Uncle Benny,” Mick shouts, bursting into the room and barreling toward Ben.

“Hey there, Mickey Mouse.” Ben scoops him up and spins him around. “Whatcha been up to, little buddy?” He keeps spinning him, faster and faster, and Mick is laughing so hard he can’t answer.

Anna walks by with the baby in her arms. “If he pukes like he did the last time you did that, you’re cleaning it up,” she says.

They slowly stop spinning and when Ben sets Mick down the little boy immediately falls over.

“Again!” Mick says.

“I can’t,” Ben says. “If you puke, your mom’s gonna get pissed at me. Don’t tell her I said pissed in front of you, okay?”

“Pissed!” Mick shouts.

Josie walks up to Ben and hands him a plastic teacup. He doesn’t miss a beat and pretends to drink it all down. “Thanks, Jos. Can I please have a refill?” She walks away toward her play kitchen, which is set up in a corner of the living room.

Anna walks back into the room. “Dinner’s ready. Who wants a taco?”

“Me!” the kids shout, and we follow them into the kitchen.

•   •   •

After dinner, T.J. tells me he’d like to go back to the island with me if the offer still stands.

“Of course,” I say. I’m surprised, because I really hadn’t expected to hear those words from him. “What made you change your mind?”

“Anna,” T.J. says. He looks at her and she smiles back at him, and I get the feeling there’s probably more to it than that. T.J. puts his arm around her and she lays her head on his shoulder.

Ben leans toward my chair. “They’re always really touchy-feely. You’ll get used to it,” he says.

T.J. starts laughing. “He’s one to talk. If Stacy were here, she’d be in his lap right now, with her tongue in his ear.”

“Damn right she would,” Ben says. He looks at me. “Stacy’s my fiancée. We’re getting married in a few months. She wanted to come tonight, but she had some wedding stuff to take care of. That girl has turned into a major bridezilla. But I don’t care because I love her.”

“Congratulations,” I say.

Anna stands up and pushes her chair back. “I’m going to put the kids to bed and then go read in the bedroom. I’ll leave you guys to talk.”

T.J. also rises. “I’ll help you round them up.” He stops in front of a cupboard, opens it, and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. “Owen?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say.

Anna crosses to the refrigerator. “I bought some beer, Ben.”

“I’ll just have whiskey,” he says.

“Are you sure?” Anna asks. “Because I’ve got Bud Light.” She’s smiling and it sounds like she’s teasing him. She pulls out a longneck bottle and holds it up. “I picked up some at the store the other day, just for you.”

“No, I’m good,” he says.

“Stay here, T.J. I can get the kids down.” On her way out of the kitchen Anna gives him a lingering kiss. Ben points to his cheek and clears his throat, and she laughs and gives him a quick peck.

“Your wife just kissed me, T.J. You’ll probably want to keep a close eye on us.”

T.J. gets out three glasses and uncaps the bottle. “I’m not remotely worried,” he says with a snort, pouring the whiskey into our glasses.

“That hurts, man,” Ben says, laughing. “That really hurts.”

•   •   •

“What I want to know,” I say two hours later, “is how come my house was a shack, but your house was a house.” This question strikes me as slightly funny, but that’s probably because the level of whiskey in the bottle is quite a bit lower than it was.

“Don’t get me wrong,” T.J. says. “Your house was stellar. Really well done. But the heat and humidity are not forgiving when it comes to wood.” Or bodies, I might add, but I don’t want to bring everyone down. “Some of that wood was pretty rotten.” He takes another drink. “It didn’t look quite as good as you remember when we found it.” He picks up the bottle and pours some more whiskey into my glass. “Why’d you build it in the woods, anyway? Jesus, the rats.”

“I thought the trees would give me some protection from the storms—and they did. I always worried that one might fall on the house, though.”

“T.J. told me about the big spiders,” Ben says.

“Brown huntsman,” I say. “Creepy as hell.”

“Word,” T.J. says, leaning over to clink his glass against mine.

“You okay with sleeping on the beach?” I ask, directing my question to T.J.

“Sure. Won’t be the first time.”

“I’m traveling light. Not planning on bringing a tent. Just a duffel and sleeping bag. Enough food and water for about twenty-four hours. “

“Fine by me. City Boy over there is the one who’d need high-end camping gear,” T.J. says. “He works in a bank. Wears a tie every day. Drinks
lattes
.”

“I love my job—and lattes—so you can fuck off, Callahan,” Ben says. But he smiles at T.J., and I can tell by his tone that he’s kidding. Good for him. Steady job, girl he loves. What more could you want?

“Why don’t you come with us?” I ask.

“Me?” Ben says.

He probably thinks it’s the whiskey talking, but I’m sincere. “Sure,” I say. “Do you have a passport?”

“Yeah,” Ben says.

“Can you get the time off?”

“I’ve got some vacation days I might not have mentioned to Stacy, but only because I was afraid she’d make me use them for some weird wedding shit that I don’t need to be a part of.”

“T.J.?”

“It would be great if Ben came along,” he says.

“Okay, then. It’s settled,” Ben says. “Stacy’s probably gonna blow a gasket, but she’ll come around.”

“Cheers,” I say, and we raise our glasses.

“What are we toasting to?” Ben asks.

“Returning home safely,” T.J. says, and the three of us down our drinks.

T.J.

I tell Ben to crash in the den and give Owen the couch in the living room. No one’s really hammered, but no one should be driving, either. I turn off lights and lock up, then head down the hallway. Josie is asleep on her back, clutching her favorite blanket. I tuck the covers in around her and go to Mick’s room. He wakes up when I put his teddy bear back in his arms. Groggy, he looks at me and says, “Can I have some water, Daddy?”

I walk to the kitchen and fill a sippy cup with water. When I hand it to him he takes a few sips and falls right back to sleep. Piper is sleeping on her stomach, with her little diapered butt sticking up in the air. I cover her, too, even though it will do no good. She’ll just kick her blanket off again.

After I check on the kids I walk into the bedroom, very happy to see that Anna is still awake. I lock the door behind me.

She’s lying on top of the covers, propped up by a couple of pillows, and all she’s wearing is a tank top with thin straps and a tiny pair of black underwear. She marks her page and then set her book on the nightstand, giving me a smile.

I strip off my clothes—all of them—and join her on the bed.

“You taste like whiskey,” she says when I pull her into my arms and kiss her. She runs her hands across my chest, letting them drift lower, which makes me happier still. “I like the way you taste. Kiss me again.”

So I do. I also remove her tank top and run my fingers lightly over her skin. She lets out a soft sigh. She’s always beautiful to me, but she looks especially beautiful right now, because I can see and feel and hear what my touch is doing to her.

“I need you,” I say.

“I’m yours.”

I know she’s often tired, and that chasing after three kids wears her out, but very rarely does she tell me no. She still worries about the cancer coming back, and she told me once that she considers it a gift every time we make love. I do, too. But not because there’s anything to worry about with my health. It’s because she chose this life with me, and I know how very lucky I am.

I take off her underwear, sliding them down slowly, and start to touch her. She moans and tells me it feels good, tells me not to stop. I love the way she gives herself to me completely, how she never holds back.

“Now,” she says, pulling me up so that I can slide inside of her. It feels every bit as good as it always does and it doesn’t take long before I’m the one whispering in her ear, moaning, telling her that I love her.

I’m close, but I wait until she clenches around me and then I don’t hold back. She holds on to me tightly and says my name over and over as our breathing and our movement slows.

I could listen to her say it forever and it still wouldn’t be long enough.