Our Island Inn (Quirky Tales from the Caribbean) (25 page)

I WATCHED OLIVER depart the next day. Crouched behind the bougainvillea bushes that lined the inn’s west terracing, I had a view of both the balcony outside our apartment and the front portion of the parking lot.

He didn’t take much with him.
He loaded the poodles into their cargo crates and packed only a small suitcase of his belongings.

The rest, he left behind.

Once he’d put those items into the jeep, he wandered back toward the pavilion. I saw the misty look on his face as he gazed across the entertainment area. Slowly, he walked to the end of the deck. He stopped at the far northwest corner and stared at the sea.

I
wanted to call out to him, but my voice died in my throat as he pulled my letter from his pocket – the one I’d written on the pool deck that last night before my fateful trek through the jungle.

Oliver
held the papers up to his face, rereading my careless goodbye. When he got to the end, he shook his head and tossed the sheets over the railing. The pages separated in the breeze, softly floating to the ground below.

T
hen the only person who might have come looking for me left Our Island Inn forever.

Because I
’d thought he was a murderer.

~
~ ~

HERE, I REMAIN,
a figment of my own imagination, lurking in the woods beneath Parrot Ridge.

Months
have passed, and the inn has fallen into ruin.

My spirit
haunts this place. I’ve spread deep into the dirt. I’ve been siphoned up into tree roots and splintered off into trunks and branches. I’m in the leaves that rustle with the sea breeze, the insects that scurry across the ground, and the frogs that chirp each night at the moon.

My flesh i
s transparent. I’ve diminished to an apparition – less than solid, less than human.

I
often climb up the ridge, sit on what’s left of the crumbling pool deck, and gaze out at the view. There are a few bottles of wine leftover in the pantry. I fill a palm tree plastic cup and sip the liquid through a pink flamingo straw, the last pieces from the stemware set that Oliver bought for our wedding – the wedding he always wanted, the wedding I would never discuss.

As night falls, I
tell my story to the chickens, the only living beings that appear capable of hearing my words. Charlie and his or her feathered friends are unsympathetic to my woes, indifferently pecking the ground as I recapture the moments that led to my demise.

A
For Sale sign has been posted at the bottom of the drive, but so far no one has shown any interest or been up here to look. Green tendrils wrap around the wooden posts and cross the main placard, covering most of the listing details.

The
drive’s asphalt paving has begun to crack. It’s an intimidating hill. Few would attempt to scale it.

But one day, someone will
venture up here. And the view will tempt them to make this place their own. No matter the difficulties of the construction or the dark rumors of the property’s past, they won’t be dissuaded.

So
I will wait until the next couple dares to dream about their own island inn.

T
hen I can pass on the curse of Parrot Ridge.

REBECCA M. HALE lives in Western Colorado with her feline writing associates—when she’s not off researching future books set in San Francisco, the Caribbean or wherever else her wandering spirit takes her.

Check her author website for the latest title information:
www.TravelingwithBooks.com

She is on twitter at
halerm, on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/Rebecca.M.Hale.author
and on
google+ at Rebecca M. Hale.

Quirky Tales from the Caribbean

ODE TO A FISH SANDWICH

OUR ISLAND INN

DEATH OF A DAY-TRIPPER (coming in 2014)

THE BOLOM ON THE BUS (coming in 2014)

Mysteries in the Islands

ADRIFT ON ST. JOHN

AFOOT ON ST. CROIX

AGROUND ON ST. THOMAS
(coming in December 2014)

The Cats and Curios Mystery Series

HOW TO WASH A CAT

NINE LIVES LAST FOREVER

HOW TO MOON A CAT

HOW TO TAIL A CAT

HOW TO PAINT A CAT

HOW TO CATCH A CAT (coming in March 2015)

Published by Green Vase Publishing

Text and cover copyright ©
2014 Rebecca M. Hale

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission.

ISBN: 978-0-9796344-2-0