Lost Her (Lost #1) Read online

  So, here I am in Costa Rica in a remote beach town and as my daughter describes it, a village. I came over on the tourist boat. I do not want to alert Livi of my visit or she will go into hiding again. I sit on the beach for the day, waiting to see her leave school. I walk back and forth near the school, so as not to miss her. Then I hear her voice yelling out some Spanish words. No clue what she is saying since I never picked up the language, despite her encouraging me to learn it. I walk toward the voices and chanting, and see a soccer game going on with a bunch of kids. I spot Livi! She is chanting and clapping her hands. I assume she is cheering on her students.

  I have not seen her this alive since our son’s last hockey game. She looks happy, but then I notice her appearance. She is very thin and her hair is blonde. She either stopped dyeing her hair dark or the sun bleached it out. I always told her she looked better with darker hair, but that’s because she is so pale skinned. Now, seeing her with a slight tan and long blonde, spiral curled hair naturally was an attraction for me. On our vacations, she used to get upset how the humidity would make her hair curl up. I always reinsured her that I liked her hair curly. She is very self-conscious about her looks and felt that she needed to please me all the time. She is a people pleaser at her own expense. It is a joy to watch her excited about the children playing soccer. She is still clapping and cheering, just like she did for me in college and then later for our children.

  I see a tall blonde man coaching the children and he side steps over to Livi. He pulls her by her hip toward him to point out a player. Then he comes in closer and whispers something in her ear. She faces him then laughs as she pushes him back with both her hands on his chest. I am flashing red; I think I have just become overwhelmed with jealousy. Why is she touching him like that? Is what Katie said true, Livi has moved on? Then I feel my legs being swiped by my dog Selene, in that loving way she always does when I come home. Then I am greeted by my other two dogs, and I drop to my knees to them in the sand. I am petting all three dogs as they lean into me. I look back across the field and my eyes meet with Livi. I try not to get knocked over by the dogs’ excitement; I lift my hand and wave once at her.

  Livi- I am so scared. My legs feel like Jell-O and I feel anger toward Katie for letting my husband know where I am. I cannot deal with Ryan wanting to throw our 22 years of marriage away, but I am still guilty of Briar’s death. I slowly walk around the fútbol field toward him. When I get there he is still rubbing the bellies of our 3 dogs. I have no idea what to say to him. All I see when I look at Ryan is Briar and my heart bleeds again. Ryan is a constant reminder of Briar. My memories flash back to Ryan screaming at me not to allow Briar to ride the quad in the sand pit with his friends; Ryan reminding us how dangerous it was. That day, Ryan had to go into work about some new exculpatory evidence. Briar kept chasing me around bothering me to let him go with his friends. I kept saying, “Call your father.” I did not want to be the bad guy that said no to Briar all the time. Ryan was not picking up his cell phone. I gave in because I remembered back when I was a kid riding in the sand pits. It was a normal pastime for New Jersey rural kids. We would get scrapes and bruises, but it was no big deal. Briar ran to get his helmet. Next thing I remember is the fire department calling to tell me that Briar was being helicoptered to the hospital. I tried to call Ryan again, but no answer. I went to the hospital alone and sat with Briar for 17 minutes until he passed from internal injuries. The quad had rolled over onto his chest. I can’t remember when I was joined by anyone else at the hospital. I was sedated about 15 minutes after Briar left me. I knew it was my fault entirely.

  Back to the reality of the present: Ryan stands up as I approach. He is smiling at me and my mind is shocked because I have not seen him smile since before the accident. His jet black hair has no more than a few strands of silvery grey that glisten in the sun. His green eyes are so clear and reminding me why I have always been so attracted to him. His very full lips, which Katie inherited, are blowing kissing sounds at the dogs. He is making it very hard not to love him right now, as he is being so silly with the dogs. The only words I can manage are, “Hey.”

  Ryan places both hands on my shoulders and whispers, “Hey, you too,” and places a small kiss to the corner of my mouth. I stand in awe that I get that much affection from him. He crouches back down to rub the dogs and looks up at me with a grin. “I missed these guys,” he winks with a pause, “And you too.” All I can muster is a return smile. “What time do you get done work?” he asks.

  I am still looking down at him. I am still in awe that he is here and looking happy. I force out an answer, “2 o’clock, and so another 30 minutes of fútbol.”

  Ryan looks up at me, “Fútbol, you mean soccer,” as he laughs trying to be funny. I just nod yes. “I will hang on the beach and wait for you if you don’t mind,” he says assumingly confident that I won’t hide out on him.

  I respond with almost a whisper, “There is a Cantina over there where you can get some food if you are hungry,” pointing to the small shack near the road.

  “You are always thinking about my stomach, but yes. That sounds good if you will join me there in 30 minutes? And also, I am holding the dogs ransom, so you better appear.” He laughs. I again just nod and head back to cheer on my students with their game.

  I am back on the sidelines and Parker runs over to me. “Was there a problem with a day tripper?” he asks with a concerned tone.

  Still in shock, all I can muster is a “Yeah, and I am meeting him at the Cantina in 30 minutes.” Parker stops, turns Ryan’s way and notices that the dogs are all over Ryan.

  Parker then looks at me, “Why would you do that, silly lady, getting mixed up with a day tripper for 15 minutes until his boat leaves?” When I provide no emotion and still appear shocked, Parker asks, “Do you know him?”

  Still looking at Ryan in awe, I respond to Parker’s question, “Yes, that is Ryan, my husband.”

  Nothing words are exchanged between Parker and I for the next 30 minutes until we dismiss our students. I love the Latin, Central American, South American, Spanish, Italian, Greek cultures. They are the most affectionate, loving people, so different from Americans. Their hugs and kisses mean more to me than anything I have ever felt at home in New Jersey. These are genuine humble people that love unconditionally. As my students and their families hug and kiss me goodbye, I can feel Ryan’s eyes piercing through me from the Cantina. Ryan, being English and Italian, hasn’t known this type of love. I have never seen it from his family. He just looks so confused why children and their parents hug and hold me like there is no tomorrow. I love this feeling, I need to be hugged liked this. Then my brain wanders, maybe Ryan is wondering if these people know that I am the reason Briar is dead. I turn my back to him for the rest of the goodbyes until all my students have left. I head up to the school to get my planner and bag. There is no Parker in sight, so I gather my pride and head over to the Cantina. Now I am being a bad girl, walking very slowly toward the Cantina fully knowing that Ryan has only a few hours to make his boat back to Limón. The less time I have to spend the better for the heartache of impending divorce.

  Ryan has not wasted any time, he is seated with all types of lavish food and alcoholic drinks on the table while still cooing at my dogs. I walk up the two steps and take in my surroundings. Ryan is in front of me and Parker is sitting at the end of the bar trying to make it seem like he is interested in what Rosalie is saying. Rosalie is the owner of the Cantina.

  I feel so much love for my best friend Parker right now, not letting his girl go down without backup. What a man! I see on the clock that it is 2:30pm, so I have until 4pm. Just 90 minutes until the day tripper boat leaves and takes Ryan with it. It is enough time to talk me into to signing the divorce papers, but I am still hesitating. Ryan looks up at me as I climb the stairs. With his typical northern New Jersey accent and agitation with tardiness he says in his New Jersey boy tone, “You’re late and you made me wait!” Oh my gosh, really? Is R
yan going to go back to that cut throat Jersey attitude with me as my brain goes defensive.

  I respond meekly, “I am so sorry, my students come first.” YES, SCORE! I kicked it right back at him, since his career always came over his family’s life.

  “All good,” he responds with a big smile, “I can see the students and their parents love you. They know that you are a very caring person,” he responds with a big goofy smile. I may have to tell Rosalie to lay off the tequila. He cannot handle fermented agave at all. Ryan gestures me to eat. I glance over the dishes and realize Ryan has ordered all of my favorite Latin dishes from back home. I must say I am in shock, but I know that he is buttering me up to sign the papers. Ryan seems like he is getting wasted.

  Parker is still watching from afar when he signals me that Señor Marquis is heading toward me. Oh no, please no gringo jokes now. Ryan is known to be over the top with his Americans are the best attitude and he can be quite condescending. I am going to admit that Señor Marquis is always dead on with his jokes, but Ryan is a very sensitive Americano. Ryan never can handle his tequila, he does not get angry or silly, and he just throws up. He is laughing and chuckling at Señor Marquis jokes. Ryan is wasted gone and there is no way he is getting on a small catamaran tonight. Then I realize that the boat left already. I look at Ryan and I ask, totally taking advantage since I know he can’t lie drunk, “So, Rye, why are you here?”

  He looks at me like he is sober and responds, “I want my wife back before she shacks up with a surfer boy,” he gestures with his head toward Parker. Now I am blindsided with his comment, he must be drunk, I think to myself and know that Katie told him too much information.

  I look him into the eye and ask, “Where are you planning on staying tonight?”

  He admits that Katie told him that I have a pull out couch. “I am staying on your pull out coach tonight, but not tomorrow night though.” he sighs his voice into silence. My mind again plays on the tequila filled words that he is leaving tomorrow, but I raise my hand to close out his check so I can get him home up the hillside.

  I walk over to the bar to pay the tab and Parker speaks very quietly, “Maybe I should run and get your Land Cruiser for you, so you can bring him back to your house”.

  I turn to Parker with a constant nod, “Nah, but thank you, I think the walk in the dark will help him sober up”.

  Parker smiles at me “See you tomorrow Olivia.” I look back at Ryan and wonder why he got so wasted. He never drinks like this and the last time he did was over ten years ago. I just keep thinking that he is going to be so sick later tonight.

  I head back to the table and start picking up my school bag and Ryan’s bag. “Rye, it is time to go,” I speak sternly.

  “How about one or two for the road?” he says turning toward Rosalie.

  “No Ryan, I have to get home before it is completely dark and I have to work in the morning,” I say as I am lifting him by his elbow. He stands and follows me down the two steps. I am walking pretty fast as we are losing light pretty fast.

  “What is your hurry?” Ryan asks as he speeds up his step to be in line with me walking.

  “I do not like to walk in the dark up the hillside, there are too many animals,” I say as I keep my gaze forward watching for movement on the road.

  “Ooh I see the jungle” he snorts out a laugh, “How come you do not drive to school, do you have a car?” he asks.

  I see Katie left out some details. “Yes, I have an old Land Cruiser and I do not like to waste gas, plus in order to get more gas, I have to get half way to Límon in Cahuita. I like to save the gas for market trips,” I reply.

  “Wow, is money that tight for you? Katie said something that you were seriously penny pinching,” he asks.

  “No, money is not tight. It is different here. Not like you can jump in the car and have all amenities one mile down the road. You have to plan your purchases for those days when you travel to the market,” I respond like I am giving a teenager a lesson on life planning.

  “Geez, how far is your house? I feel like I am going to crash on these loose rocks under my feet,” he announces like he is annoyed.

  “I live close to 4 kilometers from town.” I speed up my pace.

  “What the hell, kilometers, really Livi? How many miles is that and is it really all up hill. The tequila is hitting me hard and I think I am sweating it out my pores,” he pants out the words with that New Jersey Italian accent.

  “Just about 2.5 miles and yes all up hill. You really need to be careful with the alcohol here. Much stronger and easier to get dehydrated,” I spoke.

  “I am already dehydrated,” he slurs out.

  We walk for another 17 minutes not speaking a word to each other. I think Ryan is really concentrating on not passing out. Ryan is such a strong man. He is a little over six feet tall, but he has always had amazing muscle tone from playing soccer and ice hockey. But hearing him winded and whining about the terrain is making me laugh.

  We walk up to the front door of the house and I am fiddling with keys to open the door. Ryan breaks out in a drunken laugh then he offers what is so funny to him, “Livi honey, it is pitch black here and back home in Jersey you’d be freaking out to get out of your Lexus truck in the driveway without the driveway lights on and you do not even have a light on inside this place, so unlike you.”

  “Your eyes get adjusted to the darkness, but tonight there is no moon to light the way and I was not excepting company,” I look at him as I push open the door and hit the light for him.

  He walks in and the look on his face is a little taken back. He walks over to the refrigerator and opens it. He grabs a beer and guzzles it. Then he is digging around for more to drink. “Do you have water?” he asks. “I am parched and I have had too much alcohol.” I laugh at him knowing his threshold and point to the lettuce crisper in the refrigerator.

  He pulls out water and drinks that next. “Please show me around” he asks me.

  “Really simple, Kitchen, dining, office and living room,” as I motion with my hand, “bedroom and bath over there.”

  “This really works,” he says with a wink and continues to speak, “That coffee table is gorgeous.”

  I laugh and it makes me weak to know that Ryan and I still have the same eye for beauty. “Señor Marquis made it for me and I am a little protective of it, so no feet or bottles on that table,” I smile to him.

  “No way, he made it? That silly man with the American jokes? He is a true talent. Can he make kitchen tables?” Ryan asks as he sits on the couch and runs his hand over the wood grain. My brain starts working to wonder why Ryan wants a kitchen table. I wonder if he is moving or something. I walk over to the closet grabbing a blanket and pillow for Ryan. I go to give him the blanket when I see him trying to get his dog to cuddle with him on the couch. He is drunk and being all mushy.

  “Good night,” I say while laying the blanket and pillow down on the arm of the couch, “I have to head to bed, school here starts super early”.

  “How early?” he questions with a raise of his eyebrows.

  “Seven in the morning and you may be up too since the sun shines right through this house in the morning,” I say while walking away into my room. I close my bedroom door and get ready for bed.

  I head to the bathroom to wash up and hear Ryan grunting. I guess the tequila has decided to turn on him and aggravate his stomach. I quickly finish up in the bathroom and head back to my room. I close the door and climb into bed. I am having a hard time sleeping trying to figure out why he is here and I know this is going to be hard for me. I finally doze off to be awoken by the sound of Ryan being sick in the bathroom. I know I should ignore him, but I can’t. He is a lot like me when getting sick to his stomach, the nausea and dry heaving is unbearable. I jump out of bed and grab a hand towel from the closet. I run to the kitchen sink and wet it with ice cold water. Turn around walking fast to the bathroom and I open the bathroom door. Ryan is sitting on the floor with his arms drape
d over the tub with his cheek resting on the ledge of the tub. His back is to me and he is shirtless. I am watching his labored breathing and all his back muscles contracting with each breath. My mind wanders off again remembering feeling those muscles under my hands while we were intimate. I want to touch him and feel his back muscles under my hands again. I walk toward him and I place my hand on his sweaty back and startle him. I guess he fell asleep. I placed the cold wet towel around his neck and he takes the end and wipes his face with it.