Page 242 of Texting Dr. Stalker

The journey from the airport wasn’t too long. He gave us facts about how the weather had been, what events were taking place on the island, and how he was madly in love with the place where we were staying and how wonderful it was that it would be used again.

Zander and I shared a worried look.

The longer we drove down streets that became progressively worse with potholes and overgrown vegetation, the more I clung to his fingers.

“Here we are.” The driver grinned, turning left at the top of a hill and bumping our way down a rutted driveway. Palm trees and tropical bushes blocked everything; banana fronds and mango trees gave me new ideas for face creams and lip balms, and when we finally broke through the wilderness, the most incredible house appeared.

A sprawling bungalow perched on the top of a small cliff; the ocean spilled out like sparkling aquamarine gemstones below. The mid-morning sun shimmered and played on the crystal sand, making everything ridiculously pretty.

Pulling our luggage out of the trunk, the driver passed us a rustic-looking key and grinned. “We’ve stocked the fridge and cleaned. The gardener hasn’t been well, hence the state of the jungle, but rest assured, he’ll pop by in a few days to tame it. There’s a motorcycle in the garage, and the nearest eateries are only five minutes away. If you need anything, my number is on the counter. Fresh linens are in the cupboards. Oh…and the pool has been filled, so if you fancy a swim to wash away your travels, go right ahead.”

“Pool?” Zander blinked. “W-What are you talking about?”

“It’s just down the hill a little. Can’t miss it.” Waving at our dumbfounded faces, the guy got back into his car. “Have a wonderful vacation, Mr and Mrs North. All of us in this tight-knit community are so happy your family is back to continue the tradition. I’m hosting our weekly barbecue at my place. Please join us. It will be like old times.”

“Old times?” I coughed.

But the driver closed his door, waved once more, and bounced his way back up the drive.

Zander and I shared yet another look.

Equally as lost as each other.

We opened our mouths to speak, but in the end, we just shrugged and dragged our luggage to the front door.

Inserting the key into the carved entry, Zander pushed it open and let me go ahead.

My mouth fell open.

The airy foyer spilled directly into a vast open-plan living room with huge sliding doors facing the ocean view. A pool glittered to the right, a green jungle surrounded us, and colourful birds flittered from tree to tree.

A large sandstone-coloured corridor wound like a snake to my left, while a massive granite-benched kitchen waited to the right. A large wicker basket sat beside the stove, full of fruits and vegetables, cheese and crackers.

“What on earth is this place?” Zander whispered. Propping our luggage against the wall, he drifted forward in a daze.

I followed him.

We both came to a natural stop by the long slab of wood acting as a table and room divider. Behind it rested a slouchy linen couch facing the view.

A letter sat propped up by a glass jar full of seashells.

A letter addressed to Mr and Mrs North.

Zander swallowed hard as he reached for it. The rip of the envelope made both of us tense, and the crackle of unfolding pretty flower paper made me hold my breath.

Zander licked his lips and read:

“Dear Sailor and Zander,

If you’re here, then we were right.

We hoped of course, but never truly knew if you’d fall in love.

You’re both so different but also perfect for one another, and we only wish we could’ve been there to see you get married.

You were born from best friends, and now you are best friends. We can rest easy, knowing you’re both taken care of. We know you’ll look after one another for the rest of your lives. We know you’ll work hard and laugh often, but please remember to relax too.

We bought this house back in the sixties and have loved it ever since.

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