Death by Honeymoon

Chapter 2

The day it happened was perfect. They woke up early to a cloudless day, nestled in each other’s arms. They showered together and went downstairs for breakfast, laughing. It seemed that the whole world was at peace that day. As they ate breakfast out on the Veranda, they were serenaded by a throng of birds, flying in and out of the branches of the trees that surrounded the hotel.

“It must be the amazing weather,” Clint had said, gazing at the water and sky. “Sky’s so blue, air’s so still, doesn’t even seem as if there could be a ripple in the ocean.” It was unusual weather for the island.

Over breakfast they talked about the souvenirs they were bringing home: huge, crusty sea shells, driftwood, throw cushions covered with tropical prints, photographs of whistling turtles, porpoises and flying fish . There was something for everyone.

As they lingered over coffee, Cindy knew the honeymoon was coming to an end. She began to think about going home, of the quaint, small starter home they’d bought back on Long Island, New York. It was in a cove, near the end of a long, private road. They both loved the house the minute they saw it and were ecstatic when their offer was accepted.

“Soon, we’ll be in our new home,” Cindy had said. “Only two more days.”

“There’s a lot we can still cram in today,” he said.

Clint planned their activities down to the minute, not wanting to waste a second. They were planning to go surfing together in the afternoon, and she’d made reservations for dinner at the hotel’s main restaurant, under the palm trees, for eight o’clock. It would be a special dinner, the anniversary of the night they’d met.

As they ate, other guests came down, milled around and sat at tables near them. They all smiled at each other casually, giving each other the privacy they wanted . Pedro, their favorite waiter, hummed a local song as he brought them a platter of croissants, eggs, fruits, coffee and mimosas. He took special care that Cindy had just what she wanted. In fact, he’d made a special desert for her, a torte. Just the kind she loved and had ordered every day. “But today’s is better,” he’d said. Cindy had smiled. These were good people.

Cindy had looked at Clint and felt how grateful and fortunate she was. From very soon after she met him, she’d known he was the man she wanted to live her life with. Tall, rugged, handsome and determined, he was the most honest and caring man she’d ever met.

After breakfast, they’d had a tranquil, long morning walk on the beach, he looking out at the horizon and trying to memorize the view, and she gathering the occasional seashell. They’d then headed back to the room to change for surfing.

And as they went upstairs, that’s when it hit her.

Cindy had suddenly began to feel woozy.

Probably from the sun, she’d thought, especially after those mimosas.

Then she had cramps.

They’ll probably pass, she’d told herself, and had gone into the bathroom, where it was cooler. But the cramps got worse.

Clint was changing into his surfing gear, and another wave of dizziness overcame her as she’d held her stomach in pain. She lay down on the bed, hoping for it to pass.

Clint came over, surprised to see her laying there.

“What’s going on?” he asked, concerned.

“I don’t know…just cramps, I think. I feel like I need to take a nap.”

“Now? In the middle of the afternoon?” he was surprised.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t feel like I can go. I probably just need to rest. But don’t let me stop you. I’ll nap for an hour and then meet you down at the beach. I promise.”

That seemed to cheer him. “Okay, but just for an hour,” he said. “I don’t want to be away from you for too long.”

Cindy wanted to reach up and hug him, but a wave of exhaustion overcame her. Helpless against it, she closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew, she was asleep.

Cindy woke with a start. She knew it was late.

With a shock, she sat straight up in bed. The clock read 5 o’clock. She had slept for three hours.

She jumped out of bed, went to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She’d told Clint she’d be down on the beach in an hour. She was two hours late. He was probably down on the sand, waiting for her.

Feeling badly, she threw on her new shorts and a shirt, grabbed her key, and then flew down the wooden staircase to the lobby.

Alex, behind the main desk, smiled and waved at her as she appeared. During these days he seemed to have taken a special liking to Cindy and Clint. He’d brought them coffee in the morning and kept asking if there was anything they needed to make everything perfect.

“You need anything, miss?” he called out to her again.

“No, thank you, thank you,” Cindy said and rushed out of the hotel, down to the beach.

She hurried down the beach to the spot where she and Clint were supposed to meet, expecting to see him there, waiting for her. The sun was setting, and the temperature had dropped, and she realized that he must have been waiting for her for hours. He was probably disappointed. They’d only had two days left on the honeymoon, and she had promised to surf with him. She could already picture his expression of frustration.

She doubled her pace, taking off her sandals and carrying them, and as she turned the bend, she was surprised.

The beach was empty.

She stopped and looked around, in every direction. He had to be somewhere. Had he laid down on the sand, under a palm tree, maybe?

But she surveyed the trees closely, and there was no one. All of the hammocks were empty. Of course they were: it was getting dark and cold, and the wind was blowing them wildly.

Maybe Clint had taken a walk along the shore? She ran to the water’s edge, and looked up and down.

But there was no one in sight.

She took out her cell and checked it again. No new messages.

Her heart started to pound, as panic overcame her. She walked quickly down the shoreline, looking every which way.

She looked out at the ocean and noticed there was a strong sideways current. Maybe it had taken him along the beach, like it sometimes did, and he hadn’t even realized. That must be it.

She followed the current sideways, along the beach, increasing her pace with every step.

But still, nothing. The beach was oddly empty. Not one person was there.

A wave of fear suddenly washed over her, and she started to run, to sprint mindlessly down the beach, staring out at the water.

Out of breath, she finally stopped running, and took a deep, wet, salty breath. In the last few minutes the sky had suddenly darkened, and the wind had picked up, becoming much stronger, nearly knocking her off balance. The wind whipped her hair into her face and eyes. She struggled to pull it away.

“Clint!” she screamed, her voice quickly drowned out by the thunderous waves. “Where are you!?”

And then, as she looked up, she saw it. In the distance, something in the water.

She ran towards it, and as she got closer, she saw what it was.

Clint’s blue surfboard. Floating in the waves.

And Clint nowhere in sight.

Her hands got clammy and her heart pounded, as a wave of horror engulfed her. There was no way, there was absolutely no way, that Clint would have ever left his board.

The ferocious waves, rougher than usual, smashed into each other mercilessly, tossing his surfboard every which way.

A strange bird flew overhead, screeching.

And at that moment, Cindy knew in every bone of her body that her husband was dead .