Last night, when we stopped, I decided we should build a primitive rudder to make steering easier. Arabella thought we should cover the raft with a soft bed of banana leaves and made chairbacks out of bamboo poles wrapped in more leaves. To be honest, I’m kind of excited to try it out, which is what we’re going to do in just a few minutes. We've eaten and cleaned up our camp. Now it’s time to set off for the day.
“Last chance to use the loo,” I say as Arabella sets her pack on the raft.
“I'm good, thank you,” she says, her voice growing a little more formal as it does whenever the topic of a bodily function comes up.
“All right, let's test out our top-of-the-line raft.” I hold out my hand and help her get on, only to find I don’t want to let go when she's seated.
Okay, Will, keep it professional here.
I push away from the shore and hop on, then try the rudder. It does what I hoped it would—and soon we find ourselves in the center of the muddy river. I stretch out my legs and lean back, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face.
“This is so much better than hiking,” Arabella says. “It’s like being on a holiday.”
I glance over at her and see her eyes are closed, and she looks incredibly relaxed, which I imagine is an unusual state for her. We float along in a comfortable silence for a while, and I listen to the calls of the birds and the odd howl of a monkey in the trees.
“Are you missing home yet?” I ask.
“Certain things, of course. My Gran, and my niece and nephew, mainly. And my sister-in-law, Tessa. She’s wonderful. Oh, and my brother. He’s all right as far as overprotective big brothers go.” She pauses for a moment. “I suppose I miss scones, and raspberry-filled crêpes drizzled in chocolate sauce. Oh, well, obviously I miss my shower and real shampoo, too. And sleeping in a bed. I guess that’s something I've always taken for granted, but I don't think I will again.” She opens her eyes and looks over at me.
“So the answer is yes, then,” I say with a chuckle.
“I suppose, a little. But all of that will be waiting for me when I get back, so I’m not going to waste a second wishing I was home.”
“Except for the scones.”
“Yes, I would wrestle a gorilla for a warm blueberry scone and some heavy cream right about now.”
“Or a guerilla?” I ask with a grin.
She lets out a laugh. “One of those, too. You wouldn’t happen to know how to turn some tree bark and leaves into pastry, would you?”
“Afraid not.” Bugger. She’s being all adorable again. I wish she’d stop that already.
Arabella sits up a bit. “What do you miss when you're out being wild and free?”
“My family. I've been traveling so much over the past few years that sometimes I think I’m skipping their entire lives,” I say, then immediately regret it because sharing deep feelings is the last thing you should do when you want to keep your distance from someone.
“Your family seems wonderful.”
“They are. I’m lucky to have them. Emma, Harrison, and I are really close.”
She nods, understanding filling her eyes. “Tragedy has a way of binding people.”
My heart squeezes a little at her words. “Yeah, it’s kind of the silver lining that comes with hard times.”
“So true,” she says.
We’re both quiet for a minute, and I wonder if she’s thinking about her mum. I won’t ask though. Instead I’m going to steer us into safer topics. “I miss cold beer and reggae music.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Those are two of my favourite things. They remind me of home. We play it for the resort guests. I used to hate it, but now whenever I hear it, it takes me right back to hanging out at the beach bar with my brother while we serve up drinks to happy people.”
Arabella smiles. “That sounds lovely.”
“It is. You should visit sometime. I think you’d like it there. We even have a royal suite.” Now, don’t go inviting her back to your place. Idiot.
“Do you now?” she asks, pretending to be impressed.
“Yes, but I’m sure the entire thing would be the size of your closet.” That’s better. Convince her not to come.
“Do you really think I’m the type who needs a giant closet to be happy?” she asks, looking slightly offended. “I’d say I’ve done quite well living out of a backpack for the past few days.”
She’s got me there. Damn. “Well, now that’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, so I’m sure I would be more than pleased with your royal suite,” she says. “I just may have to come someday.”
“We’d be happy to have you.” As a hotel guest. Not as my future wife.
“Do you live at the resort? Like in some type of family compound or some such?”
Some such. How cute is that? “No. My brother and his wife have a bungalow tucked away at the back of the resort. Emma and Pierce have their own piece of property and an amazing villa at the end of the bay, so we can walk, bike, or swim over to their house. And when I’m home, I stay in the staff quarters.”
“Really? That surprises me. A world-famous television star like yourself living in staff quarters?”
Shrugging, I say, “I’m not famous. I’m also not there much, and I’ve never seen the point of having a bunch of stuff. It just ties you down.” I glance over at her for a second, feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason. “That probably sounds strange to you.”
“No, I agree with your philosophy actually,” she answers, nodding slowly. “My ancestors have all obsessively guarded their ‘things,’ if only for the sole purpose of passing them down for the next generation to protect. Eight-hundred-year-old tapestries, thousand-year-old paintings, an enormous vault filled with jewels that require round-the-clock armed guards. There are days when I honestly can’t see the point of any of it.”
I say nothing, knowing she just needs someone to listen.
“We’re just doing what’s always been done, for no other reason than because it’s what we do.” She gives me a smile, but beneath it, I can see she’s kind of sad. She turns and looks out at the water. “Sometimes when I’m holding my niece, Flora, I want to cry for her future. She’ll be burdened with all of it, whether she wants to be or not.”
“You dodged a bullet being born second.”
“I suppose I did.”
Something in her mood shifts and I want to make her happy again. “What’s your favourite place on earth?”
Arabella tilts her head. “Our family home near Didsbury. It’s a tiny village on the northernmost tip of Avonia,” she says. “Have you been?”
I shake my head.
“Oh, it’s lovely. Very relaxed up there, miles of wide-open spaces, and if you walk long enough, you’ll end up on the cliffs overlooking the North Sea. That’s where we spent every Christmas growing up. Summers too. Playing in the fields and swimming in a pond near the castle.” Her face turns slightly red. “I almost managed to share a relatable memory, didn’t I?”
Chuckling, I say, “I could totally relate right up to the word castle.”