Page 16 of Last Ticket to Paradise

While people mobbed the dancers to get their pictures taken, Georgette slipped through the crowd back out to the beach. Although a little kitschy, the Palarosa ritual was an exciting and effective show, but she understood why Jake didn’t follow suit at the Palumba Falls. His place was all about the beauty of the island, not capitalizing on tourist gimmicks.

A few lovers still huddled on the mostly deserted beach, and Georgette kicked at the dry sand on her way back to the water’s edge. Maybe she should give Jake a chance. It was just a fling, after all, not a lifelong commitment. Did she have too much pride? Jamie certainly hadn’t been particular about sleeping with Brice even though he’d been Georgette’s fiancé.

Jamie hadn’t even been sorry. Said she did it for Georgette’s own good. ShewantedGeorgette to find her in bed with Brice. She was the one who told Georgette to meet her at Brice’s place to go over some wedding plans. But when she got there, Brice didn’t look like he was thinking about any wedding.

Brice was at her feet the following day, apologizing. Told her Jamie seduced him, but Georgette found out it hadn’t been the first time Jamie and Brice had been together. The affair began the day after Jamie returned from one of her jaunts. Not much of a seduction.

Jamie explained that she saved Georgette from a dull life with a dull man. “You always wanted to travel, Gigi. You don’t want to be stuck in Grand Forks all your life, do you? If you marry Brice, that’s what’s going to happen. You need excitement and adventure.”

Jamie even invited her on her next trip, but Georgette had the responsibility of the bookshop and Mom.

Georgette tripped over a clump of seaweed. It was dark. A few clouds skittered across the face of the moon. She glanced toward the strand. A dark strip marked the gap between Palumba Falls and the neighboring hotels. She’d learned from the other guests that Jake owned that, too, but wouldn’t develop it, giving the Palumba Falls an isolated location.

A couple, arms entwined, followed her. Georgette shoved at the seaweed with her toe. It smelled dank and briny, like the bottom of the sea.

The water splashed behind her. She turned her head. A pair of arms wrapped around her waist, tackling her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She fell to her knees in the shallow water. She yelled. A rough hand clamped over her mouth. The other hand clenched the back of her neck and pushed her down. She arched her back to throw off her attacker, but he fell on her, flattening her to the sand.

The hand on her mouth moved to grab the back of her hair, twisting it in a fist. Her assailant shoved her face into the water. Salt water filled her mouth and nostrils, and she blew out. He pulled her head up, and she sputtered, dragging air into her lungs.

He pushed her head into the water again. She held her breath. Sand crunched between her teeth. She bucked against the body on top of her.

Her head came up. She blew water out of her nose and opened her mouth to gather another breath. She had to keep breathing.

The water pulled out, and the relentless hand ground her face into the wet sand. Salt water and sand stung her eyes.

The man yanked her head back by her hair and growled, “We told you to go home. Leave now, or you’ll be going home in a body bag.”

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