“I do as much remotely as I can.Why, do you want me here, my pet?”His gaze is coolly mocking as he turns his head to look at me.He doesn’t like it when I question him about his business.It’s a part of his life that he seems to want to keep separate.In general, I get the sense that he’s sheltering me and Beth from some of the uglier parts of his world.Beth is fully aware of what Julian does, of course, but I don’t know if she knows much more about arms dealing than I do.
“Yes,” I tell him honestly.“I want you here.”It’s pointless to pretend otherwise; Julian knows exactly how I feel.He’s very good at reading me—and manipulating me.I have no doubt that he’s enjoying my growing attachment to him and likely doing his best to facilitate it.
Sure enough, at my admission, his lips curve in a sensual smile.“All right, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll try to be here more.”And reaching for me, he brings me toward him for a kiss that makes me dissolve in his embrace.
With each day that passes,my old life seems further and further away, fading into that nebulous time known as the past.When Julian is gone, I occupy myself by reading, swimming, hiking all around the island, and the occasional fishing expeditions with Beth.Julian brought us a large-screen TV with a DVD player and hundreds of movies, so Beth and I have something to do during rainy weather, too.
We’re still not exactly friends, Beth and I, but we’ve definitely grown closer.Partially, I think she likes the fact that I no longer try to escape.After my one failed attempt to bash her over the head—and the horrible incident with Jake that followed—I’ve been a model prisoner.
Of course, it would be foolish to be anything else.Even during Julian’s visits, when his plane is here, it’s locked inside the hangar I found on the other side of the island.I’m pretty sure Julian keeps the keys to the hangar in his office, where only he can access them.And even if I somehow got my hands on the keys, I sincerely doubt there would be an operating manual conveniently stored inside the plane, teaching me how to fly it.
No, my captor knew exactly what he was doing when he brought me to this island.It’s as secure a prison as any I could imagine.
As days turn into weeks and then into months, I try to find more activities to fill up my free time—and to prevent myself from pining after Julian when he’s not there.
The first thing I do is start running again.
I begin with short distances at first, to make sure I don’t strain my knee, and then I slowly increase both speed and distance.I run either in the mornings or at night, when it’s cooler, and it’s not long before I am in as good of a shape as I’d been during my days on the track team.I can do a three-mile run in under seventeen minutes—an accomplishment that makes me ridiculously happy.
I also take up painting.Not because I remember Julian saying that Maria was good at drawing, but because I find it both entertaining and relaxing.I had enjoyed art classes in school, but I was always too busy with friends and other activities to give painting a serious attempt.Now, however, I have plenty of time on my hands, so I start learning how to properly draw and paint.Julian brings me a ton of art supplies and several instructional videos, and I soon find myself absorbed in trying to capture the beauty of the island on canvas.
“You know, you’re very good at this,” Beth says thoughtfully one day, coming up to me on the porch as I’m finishing a painting of the sunset over the ocean.“You’ve got the colors down exactly—that glowing orange shaded with the deep pink.”
I turn and give her a big smile.“You really think so?”
“I do,” Beth says seriously.“You’re doing well, Nora.”
I get the sense that she’s talking about more than just the painting.“Thanks,” I say dryly.Should I add that to my list of achievements—the fact that I’m able to thrive in captivity?
She grins in response, and for the first time, I feel like we truly understand each other.“You’re welcome.”
Walking over to the outdoor couch, she curls up on it, pulling out her book.I watch her for a few seconds, then go back to painting, trying to replicate the multidimensional shimmer of the water—and thinking about the puzzle that is Beth.
She still hasn’t told me much about her past, but I get the sense that for her, this island is a retreat of sorts, a sanctuary.She sees Julian as her rescuer, and the outside world as an unpleasant and hostile place.“Don’t you miss going to the mall?”I asked her once.“Having dinner with your friends?Going dancing?You’re not a prisoner here; you could leave at any time.Why don’t you have Julian take you with him on one of his trips?Do something fun before you come back here again?”
Her response was to laugh at me.“Dancing?Fun?Letting men put their hands all over my body—that’s supposed to be fun?”Her voice turned mocking.“Should I also shop for sexy clothes and make-up, so I look all pretty for them?And what about pollution, drive-by shootings, and muggings—should I miss those, too?”Laughing again, she shook her head.“No, thanks.I’m perfectly happy right here.”
And that’s as much as she would say on that topic.
I don’t know what happened to make her so bitter, but I strongly suspect Beth hasn’t had an easy life.When we were watching Pretty Woman, she kept making snide comments about how real prostitution is nothing like the fairy tale they were showing.I didn’t ask her about it then, but I’ve been curious ever since.Could she have been a prostitute in the past?
Putting down my brush, I turn and look at Beth.“Can I paint you?”
She looks up from her book, startled.“You want to paint me?”
“Yes, I do.”It would be a nice change of pace from all those landscapes I’ve been focusing on lately—and it might also give me a chance to get to know her better.
She stares at me for a few seconds, then shrugs.“All right.I guess.”
She seems uncertain about this, so I give her an encouraging smile.“You don’t have to do anything—just sit there like that, with your book.It makes for a nice visual.”
And it’s true.The rays of the setting sun turn her red curls into a blazing flame, and with her legs tucked under, she looks young and vulnerable.Much more approachable than usual.
I set aside the painting I was working on and put up a blank canvas.Then I begin to sketch, trying to capture the symmetric angles of her face, the lean lines and curves of her body.It’s an absorbing task, and I don’t stop until it gets too dark for me to see anything.
“Are you done for today?”Beth asks, and I realize that she’s been sitting in the same position for the past hour.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” I say.“Thanks for being such a good model.”
