unexpected

Chapter 2

Paul

Seclusion. Privacy. Time to think, talk, and come to terms.

That's what Dr. Kizer's travel agent promised.

With his help and Dr. Kizer's recommendation, in less than three hours after leaving the attorney's office, Jenn and I were booked on a ten-day getaway to a small northern Belize island. The website boasts turquoise blue water and remote over-water luxury huts.

Apparently, this late in the summer is considered off-season. Because of that, on an island that can house up to three families, we will be the only inhabitants—our own small island in the middle of the Caribbean. While there are two other huts on the island, during our entire stay, we have been promised that they will remain unoccupied.

We're currently flying above the island that will be our temporary home, and the view is spectacular. The first part of our journey took us to the airport in Belize. We were then picked up by a car service and driven to a small private heliport. The open-sided helicopter affords us a panoramic view of the gorgeous blue Caribbean, dotted with green islands and outlined with white sand, as well as the warmth of the tropical sea breeze.

Jenn squeezes my hand as her face tilts downward, her eyes widening as she takes in the beauty. Her grip intensifies as we begin to descend, coming closer to the ground and sea. With each movement lower, the waves grow from ripples to white caps and the green terrain blossoms to tall trees on hilly terrain.

“Mr. and Mrs. Masters," Miguel, a young man with a Kriol accent, says, speaking through the microphone and headset as he maneuvers the helicopter. “You can see the entire island from up here." He points to a tall wooden tower. “Look to your right. Do you see that flag?"

“Yes," we both say, taking in the green flag flying from the tower.

“There isn't cell service this far out—only satellite or the radio. Each hut has a two-way radio, but if for any reason you need assistance or decide to do an excursion and you can't reach us via the radio, fly a yellow flag. Someone from the resort flies over each island at least three times a day and stops once."

Without saying a word, Jenn's eyes grow even wider as her grip of my hand tightens.

“There is a red flag," Miguel goes on. “Only fly that for emergencies. Once a day, we'll stop and bring supplies to the central building. Right now, it is equipped with over a week's worth of food, water, and medical supplies. It's not too late to decide to have a chef on the island. After all, besides the center building, there are two empty huts. Someone can stay here with you."

“You're sure there's no one else here?" Jenn asks as she continues to look downward at the island.

“Yes, ma'am. The only way on and off is helicopter or boat. The tides are unpredictable this time of year. Helicopter is the safest. If you decide to do an excursion, we'll fly you to the marina."

“Thank you for the offer," I say. “We decided it would be more fun to just be the two of us. The website said there are grills and other cooking facilities."

“Yes, sir. The freezer is well stocked and there is even fishing equipment available if you want fresh seafood as well as a map to let you know where to fish and swim. Remember, this isn't Disney. The sea creatures are wild. Please heed our safety instructions."

I smile at Jenn. “This will be fun. It'll be like camping."

We both look out to the blue sea that goes on forever, the white sand of the beach, and the tall palm trees making the middle of the island a dense forest of green.

“Like camping in paradise," Jenn says. “With sharks."

“And jellyfish," Miguel offers. “However, stingrays, cone shells, and man-of-war are the biggest concerns in the water. On land, it's spiders and snakes."

“Paul?" My wife's voice sounds uncertain through the earphones.

“Ma'am, your hut is treated against the spiders and ants. Being over the water helps. That's why we constructed them that way. I'm not trying to scare you, only warn you."

“We have spiders and snakes in Wisconsin," I remind my wife.

“Okay," she answers with the same uneasy cadence.

All at once, sand begins to fly as the helicopter descends, the propellers whirling, until the landing blades beneath us settle into the soft sand.

“Stay seat belted until the propellers stop," our guide warns.

Once we're back on solid ground, Miguel unloads our suitcases and bids us to follow along a narrow, well-packed path. Quickly, the elevation increases along with the warm tropical breeze. From the highest elevation we can see out over the sea.

“From the air, you should have seen all three huts at relatively equal distances around the perimeter of the island. This island is our farthest one from the mainland, nearly twenty nautical miles. The closest island to you is over three miles away. During calm seas, that can be reached by a ten-minute boat ride. This time of year, we wouldn't risk it." He points one direction. “The west side of the island is lined with red mangroves. You can walk over thirty yards and still be in shallow water." Over near your hut, there's a cove where the water becomes deep quickly. It's a great place to dock larger boats during the busy season. It's also perfect for swimming and fishing."

Swimming and fishing? Jenn mouths with uncertainty in her eyes.

“What kind of fishing?" I ask.

“Lionfish are the best. Just be sure to cut off their spines."

“We'll remember that," Jenn says to Miguel. And then, leaning toward me, she whispers, “Please only fish in that well-stocked refrigerator or freezer. I'm certain in this temperature it will defrost quickly."

“Oh, isn't this vacation about adventure?"

“No, it's about our marriage. I'd like to make it home without either of us being poisoned by a fish or spider."

Miguel laughs. “Our country is beautiful. You'll be safe. Enjoy what nature has made."

We continue to follow as Miguel carries our suitcases, one on each shoulder, until the trees part to a stunning, wide white-sand beach. Our feet sink as we trod out to a wooden pier. The clip-clop of our sandals is lost in the sound of waves as we walk out on the wooden dock that leads out to a thatched hut. The pictures in the brochures and online didn't do justice to the reality. Suspended above the water on solid wood stilts, our home for the next ten days is exactly what I imagined—paradise.

With each step upon the wooden planks toward the hut, my anticipation builds. Excitement is mixed with uncertainty. This adventure will make or break our marriage, and with everything inside me, I'm hoping we come away closer than before.

Jenn's dark hair blows about her face as the breeze from over the sea whips around us.

“It's absolutely stunning," Jenn says, voicing my thoughts, as Miguel opens the door to the hut and we walk inside.

Turning a full circle, I take in the large living area complete with a kitchenette. Off to one side is an archway leading to the bedroom. In the center of the bedroom is a large canopy bed, protected by mosquito netting attached to four solid posts. The walls to the ocean are missing, replaced with only flowing white curtains bellowing in the wind.

“Is it safe to have this all open?" Jenn asks.

“Yes, ma'am," Miguel replies as he goes to the side of the opening and tugs out a wall on wheels. “You're welcome to pull these closed if you'd like more privacy or in the case of rain, but as I said, other than when we stop—and when we do, you'll hear the helicopter—you two will be the only ones on the island."

When she turns back to me, there's something in her expression that I haven't seen in too long.

“This is just what the doctor ordered," she says with a smile.

I know at that second what I'm seeing.

Hope.

I'm not only seeing it but feeling it too.

These ten days are our last chance. Our forever is riding on it, and I plan to do everything I can to avoid a trip back to Jonas's office.

“It is," I say, leaning down and kissing her smile.

“Your refrigerator is stocked, and there is more food in the center building we passed up on the hill. There are fresh sandwiches and fruit ready for you in case you're famished after your trip. Also, in the main building on the hill, there's a wine cellar and a well-stocked bar. You may eat or drink anything you find. If you need anything..." He walks to a table near the far corner of the living room and lifts a round microphone attached by a curly cord to a large box. It reminds me of the CB radio my grandfather used to have. “...just push this button and call."

He demonstrates. “Cabin six. Cabin six calling Narvana."

“Cabin six. Narvana here." The voice coming from the box is gravelly.

“Mr. and Mrs. Masters are safely to their bungalow. They've declined a cook and know about the flag. I'm about to head back."

“Very good. Cabin six is set for ten days. Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Masters."

Jenn and I smile at the box, knowing we could only respond if we were the ones to hold the microphone and push the button.

“Over and out," Miguel says, hanging the microphone back on the side of the radio.

“If there is nothing else, I'll leave you two alone. It's customary for either me or one of our other tour guides to check on guests within the first twenty-four hours. So... we'll see you tomorrow?"

We both nod. “Thank you, Miguel."

I try to offer him a tip, but he refuses. “No, Mr. Masters. This is your vacation. Everything has been taken care of. Enjoy."

Jenn and I stand looking out at the stunning view until we hear the whir of the helicopter fade into the sounds of the sea.

I reach for her hand and pull her close to me. “Jenn, I want to make this work. I think we have a chance. I hope you agree."

She lifts herself to her toes in her now-bare feet and gives me a chaste kiss. “I thought I was all right with our decision. It wasn't until we were faced with those papers that I unexpectedly realized how much I don't want a divorce. I want a chance."

“Oh, baby," I say, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her even tighter to me, her body flush with mine. “That's what this trip is all about."