“As
much as I hate to, yes.”
“Are
you sure you’ve thought through this?” I cracked my knuckles.
“As
you know, I think everything through and always consider the consequences,” he
said impatiently.
With a
shrug and thumbs up sign, I walked over to the port side of the bridge and
muttered under my breath, “That you do.” The sun glistened brightly off the
waves, and I wished I had my sunglasses.
“Will
you tell me more about your family and your Grandma’s journals?” he asked.
Figuring
it was my turn to share, I nodded. He listened as I talked openly about what
I’d read in Grandma Rose’s diary. I also shared more stories about my immediate
family and growing up in Tacoma. Time always passed quickly when I was with
him, and conversation came easily.
After
a bit he pointed ahead of us. “That’s Cypress Island. Lots of Douglas Firs and
Rocky Mountain Juniper, otherwise known as cypress.” There’s a huge lake in the
middle of the island, and I’ve seen an occasional deer or fox meandering the
beaches.”
“Doesn’t
look lived on,” I commented.
“Yeah,
it’s about 5500 acres – 90 percent undeveloped, which makes it one of the least
developed islands in the San Juan’s. No easy access since it’s not on the main
ferry route, either. A system of trails and freestyle camping makes it popular
with the kayakers, but other than that, not a lot of visitors. Those are the
many reasons that make Cypress a great neighboring island for the Retreat. If
you know what I mean?” He looked at my sideways.
“Privacy,”
I said thoughtfully.
“The
much smaller Sinclair Island over to your right is mostly privately owned with
only a handful of residents. There’s a 45 foot public dock on the East shore,
but it’s not a popular destination among tourists either.”
My
eyes darted back and forth between the two islands searching for any traces of
humanity, but I couldn’t find any – only vibrant green wilderness. Scouring the
rocky beach line and steep terrain, I was disappointed not to spot any wildlife
as we cruised by. We passed the islands and continued north away from the tip
of Cypress.
After
awhile Jason pointed off in the distance at a much smaller island and
pronounced, “Towhead Island. Your home, and mine, for the next week – and
anytime you need it to be from this day forward.”
My
heart pounded with excitement as we drew closer to Towhead. The realization
that we would be on our own private island was finally dawning on me, and my
anticipation for adventure and solitude was building. I needed this week of
isolation away from the real world. For a short time, I wanted to forget about
my life and my future and live in the moment. I snuck a glance at Jason and
admired his tall, masculine build…I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather do that
with than him.
As we
pulled closer to Towhead’s long dock, I noticed several light-colored,
dome-shaped buildings scattered around the island, nestled behind green foliage
and under evergreen trees.
“What
are those strange little bubbles hidden in the woods?” I asked curiously.
He gave
me a funny look. “You’ve grown up in the Pacific Northwest and you don’t know
what a yurt looks like?”
“Ohh,
of course,” I said and slapped my forehead. “Weather tight and spacious, their
circular structure, wooden frame, and durable fabric cover make them much
stronger than tents.”
“Umm…”
he said raising one eyebrow, “sounds like you just read that straight out of a
book.”
Heat
rose to my cheeks, and I felt compelled to defend myself. “Sorry if I read a
lot. And for your information, certain things just stick with me, kind of like
selective photographic memory.”
“Whoa!
I wasn’t trying to slam you.” He held his hands in the air defensively. “I
thought it was a great description. You’re just so different.”I raised my
eyebrows. “In a good way.”
I gave
him a funny look and turned to study Towhead. “Well, I do know yurts are hot
commodities at campgrounds. I’m not sure how I’ve never seen one until now.”
“There
are several around the island. It’s awesome because they are all eco-friendly
and use solar power. Each one can sleep up to eight.”
As we
moored the boat, he told me the reasons behind having so many yurts on the
island. Apparently, there were huge gatherings of Guardians that took place in
different cities all during the year. At those get-togethers, they shared news
and discussed official Guardian business, but more importantly, they offered a
way for the younger generations of Guardians to make connections, socialize,
and possibly meet a future mate. Not only was this Retreat set up as a safe
haven, but it also hosted gatherings on a regular basis. The remote location
and ability to house large numbers of people made it ideal for both purposes.
When
we stepped onto the dock, Jason grabbed my suitcases. “Hey, where did you get
those?” I asked astonished.
“Got
them from Max this morning when he picked up Jessica and Laci at the Harbor.”
As I
slipped on my backpack, I turned slightly and read the name on our boat. I
gasped loudly when I saw
ALEXANDRIA
written in big fancy letters across the back of the yacht. Looking at Jason in
disbelief, I muttered something unintelligible.
He
blushed. “I didn’t name her, but it fits. I’m sure you know the etymology
behind your own name.” As I nodded, he turned and motioned for me to follow him
down the dock.
Weird!
Coincidence or fate?
From
the dock we followed a winding, gravel path that twisted through a forest of
Douglas Firs, red cedars, and a few big leaf maples. The trail hadn’t been
visible from down below, and as we walked it offered occasional peek-a-boo
views of the ocean and distant islands. Streams of sunlight flashed across our
path, and a chipmunk chirped endlessly inside the brush.
Amazed,
I listened as Jason described all the modern, outdoor conveniences that had
been added to the island: a half mile gravel loop for jogs or walks, an
open-air matted area for practicing martial arts, a couple of huge, ten person
hot tubs, and a great outdoor living space with BBQ’s and fire pits. Sounded
like the only thing missing was a swimming pool. I decided the surrounding
ocean would have to suffice.
Keeping
a brisk pace along the trail, Jason prepared me for what to expect on the
inside of the Retreat. With every word of his description my jaw dropped a
little further to the ground. With its fifteen bedrooms and nine bathrooms, it
was completely decked out for lodging and entertainment. A list of amenities
included a game room, home theatre room, fitness area, small library, and a
meeting room.
After
a short elevation climb we stepped out of the forest and into a flat clearing.
Directly in front of us loomed an enormous rustic lodge. Sitting semi-circle
and wrapping backwards in an arc, the three-story home was straight out of an
architectural design magazine. The rough cut timbers and stone columns brought
out the home’s natural elegance while the huge windows, expansive cedar decks,
and dramatic roofline contributed to its undeniable grandeur. The landscaping
consisted mostly of dry rock creeks and flower beds. Low native shrubs, ferns,
and small hemlock trees were interspersed with large boulders that rose tall
among the plants. Easily maintained and simple but stately.
“Wow!”
was all I managed to choke out as we walked through the ten foot front doors
and stepped into an absolutely colossal room. The open space was a few stories
high, and the domed ceiling was architecturally fascinating with large wooden
beams coming together and meeting in the center. Even more amazing, were the
two upper balconies which wrapped a full 360 degrees around the perimeter.
Looking up, I felt like I was in the lobby of a grand hotel. I almost expected
to see people appear at the railings and wave.
“Pretty
awesome, huh?” Jason said craning his neck upwards. “There’s five bedrooms and
two bathrooms on each of the upper floors. Those large wrap around areas offer
a full view of the main floor and gives us lots of space for Guardians to
gather around and listen when we have a whole group meeting. Other times
they’re used as dance floors. Each level also opens up to expansive decks on
the front and back sides of the house. The two hot tubs are located out on the
back deck of the third floor, and the sunsets from there are incredible.”
“Insanely
awesome,” I said, still gawking.
“Yeah,
you’ll have to explore all the bedrooms, because my mom and Mrs. Nelson
decorated each one with a different theme.”
“I’ll
do that.” Lowering my head, I scanned the room before me. Deep red, Brazilian
Walnut floors led my eyes to a huge gathering place directly in the center of
the room. Large, dark green sofas, the kind you can sink into with a good book
for hours on end, were intermixed with roomy, burgundy chairs. Patterned
Persian rugs under the glass coffee tables softened the space.
Drawing
my eye even further into the room and pulling the whole area together was a
massive river rock fireplace. Sitting against the back wall, the stones
stretched upwards about fifteen feet and then disappeared under the second
floor above. On either sides of the fireplace were large windows and sliding
glass doors that led to an outdoor patio.
“That,”
Jason said, his arm sweeping to our left, “is every chef’s dream.” He took a
few steps and motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen, which was
completely open to the rest of the room. There was an extensive, u-shaped bar
with a total of 15 barstools, five sitting under each of the three sections. On
the kitchen side of the black granite bars were two, eight-burner gas stove
tops, and in the center was a deep sink with dishwashers placed strategically
on either side. There was even more counter space, a second sink and tons of
cherry cabinets along the wall behind us. Two over-sized, stainless steel
refrigerators rounded out the kitchen.
“This
is all so amazing,” I said with disbelief. Pointing to our right, I said, “That
is one extreme dining table, too. Those pine benches go on forever and it looks
like they could easily seat 20 people on each side. Does all this belong to
Jessica’s family?”
He
laughed and said, “I forget how overwhelming it is the first time you see it.
It feels like you’re trespassing on the grounds of the rich and famous.” He
slapped the granite countertop. “The island is owned by the Nelsons, but the
Retreat and other amenities are kind of like community property between the
Guardians of the Bellingham Circle.”
“Well,
somebody’s got buku bucks,” I commented as my eyes wandered to a cozy little
area off to the left corner of the room. A couple cream couches, a big, flat
screen T.V. and some other multi-media equipment crowded that space. A grand
piano sat nestled in the very far, right corner of the room. Lush green, indoor
house plants and numerous candles brought a warm, country feel to the first
floor.
Clicking
his tongue, he said, “There is some individual wealth, but we also have certain
protocols we follow which brings in money occasionally.”
“Huh?”
“Like
if we ever profit in any way from our premonitions, we contribute that money
towards the Guardian fund, much of which goes to the Retreat.”
“How
would you profit?” I asked with confusion.
“Different
ways. Occasionally a vision leads to solving a case or finding a missing person
in which there was a monetary reward.”
“Oh,”
I said, still rather mystified.
“Down
that hallway past the dining table is where you’ll find the library, home
theatre, work-out, and game rooms. But down this one,” he pointed just past the
kitchen, “is where we have the other five guest rooms. The ones we reserve for
the Bellingham folks when we have large gatherings.” He grabbed my suitcase,
and I followed him down the corridor.
“Most
of these rooms have several bunks and will sleep large numbers of people.
Here’s the closest bathroom,” he said and stopped to flip on a light switch,
revealing a good-sized room with double sinks. “But your room has its own, so
no worries.” He continued on a short distance and stopped again. “This bedroom
here on the right is where you’ll be staying.” As he swung open the door, he
pointed down the hall and said, “I’ll be two doors down on the right if you
ever need anything.”
Yeah
right, like you as my midnight snack I thought. “Okay,” I said, suppressing a
smile and following him and my suitcase into the bedroom. Turning abruptly, he
bumped into me. “Oops, sorry.”
Standing
only inches apart, and gazing into his incredible eyes, I felt the urge to
trace the long scratch on his cheek. “No problem.” Gently, I reached up and
touched the red mark. His cheek was a bit prickly, because he hadn’t shaved.
His breathing hitched, and he looked at me guardedly. Blood coursed through my
veins, warming my whole body. Logic reminded me a relationship with him was
impossible, but my heart beat faster, and desire egged me on. I’d promised
myself to live in the moment, at least for this week. And at this precise
moment I felt very alive.
Up
this close, the scratches along his jawbone and the awful gash on his neck
loomed before me. But his lips looked soft and inviting, and I wondered if it
would hurt him if my lips touched his. He must have read my mind, because I
watched his gaze travel down my face and stop on my mouth. Clearly, he wasn’t
going to make a move, and I couldn’t fight the attraction any longer. I lifted
my chin towards his face, and his lips parted. Standing on my tip-toes, I
closed my eyes, but at the last possible moment, he cleared his throat and
brushed past me. My eyes popped open in time to see him shaking his head.
Practically
running towards the door, he said sharply, “This can’t happen.” His hand
brushed his lips. “You should unpack and explore the house. Feel free to help
yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’m sure you’re probably getting hungry.
Besides, I’ve got some things to check on.” With that he closed the door and
was gone.