Page 9 of Duty and Desire

I climbed on the buggy and headed north, silently begging the impulse not to vanish before I had a chance to commit words to paper.

Nick had piqued my curiosity. It hadn’t been his numerous jobs, nor his skills as a water sports instructor, but that lost expression.

Maybe he’s as lost as I am.

By the time evening arrived and the sun had begun its slow descent, setting the lagoon on fire as it sank, I’d filled four pages, and while that wasn’t a lot, every word was as precious as gold, as life-giving as water.

It was a start.

What did my mom used to say when I was little, and I kept putting off a school project I knew would eat up my time but couldn’t be avoided?“Well begun is half done”.

I smiled. She told me once she’d learned that from watchingMary Poppins.

I put my pen down and read my notes.

On one page, Nick—I stuck with that name for the time being,knowing it would change later—was a traveler, exploring the world, earning his keep as he went to provide him with funds to finance more trips. But he was also nursing a broken heart, running from pain and misery, and although each new destination was captivating, he always carried that secret hurt with him, never able to cast it off. I liked the idea of him meeting his soul mate, finding new love and new hope.

On another page, Nick was an artist, searching for inspiration, ultimately finding his muse on a beach. I hadn’t decided whether Nick was straight or somewhere along the rainbow, but that would come to me as his character evolved. I imagined him returning to the place where his artistic efforts had been scorned, only to find himself lauded as an amazing new talent, his name on everyone’s lips, his main critic silenced by a wave of public acclamation.

The next idea was a shade darker. Nick had witnessed a high-profile crime and was placed in witness protection. The island was supposed to be his safe haven, but he had a feeling someone had tracked him down. Then there was the idea that he was a fugitive on the run, accused of a crime he didn’t commit back in his home country. Rather than face an unjust trial, he’d disappeared and was now living under a new identity, doing odd jobs to survive.

Some of my scribblings were a little more fanciful. Nick had been aboard a yacht that had mysteriously exploded at sea. He’d washed up on the island and had been living there ever since. According to official reports, all the passengers had perished, but he’d survived. So why hadn’t he tried to return? Then there was the idea he’d been born into a cult that controlled every aspect of his life. One day, he’d fled and ended up on the island, trying to experience freedom for the first time, but always watching over his shoulder, afraid they’d come for him. Stranger still was the idea that he was a brilliant scientist who had created something dangerous—maybe a new energy source, maybe a deadly weapon. When powerful people tried to control his invention, he’d disappeared to prevent it from being used for harm.

I laughed out loud. I’d gone from zero to sixty in about ten seconds, from no ideas to pages of them, and all because of one man.

Maybe the next time I see Nick, I should thank him.

He’d provided a well-needed kick-start for my writer brain, and that had to be worth at least a cocktail or three.

If he even drinks cocktails. He could be on the wagon.

There was only one way to find out.

It was time to strike up a conversation with the mystery man.

Chapter Four

April 6

Gio

Istowed my groceries in the boat, and paused for a moment to drink in the scenery. The ferry and boat point near the supermarket was buzzing with activity, but that wasn’t surprising: Vaitape was the major settlement on the western coast. It was the dropping-off and picking-up point for the hundreds of tourists who arrived on the cruise ships that had to remain in the Teavanui Passage, a channel providing the only opening to the ocean beyond the rim of islets. Boats and yachts lined the docks, with signs advertising fishing charters or excursions.

Then I spotted a familiar face.

Nick sat in the stern of a pale blue boat, his attention locked on his Kindle. He wore faded jeans and a white tee, his hair as unruly as usual. The sign standing on the dock was colorful, with photos of the island, and the wordsSee Bora-Bora From The Wateracross the bottom of the panel.

Now there’s an idea…

I strolled over to the boat, bending down to peer closely at the board. Nick tucked his Kindle into a bag and stood, moving toward me.

“Hey. What are you interested in? A Flyboard tour? Snorkeling?”

I straightened. “I was thinking of something more sedate.”

“Whale watching?” he suggested.

“I don’t suppose you offer a trip around the island, to look at the sights.”

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