Bethany Reece hugged her knees to her chest like a teenage girl, watching the sun come up over the Caribbean horizon; it was beautiful, but she had had a terrible night, any mother's worse nightmare, and she couldn't enjoy it. Her tear-streaked face was just beginning to dry, and she discovered that maybe now she could talk to someone.
That was just as well, because she wasn't sitting on the balcony of her hotel room alone; Jonathon Sparlington stood a few feet away, watching the same horizon; he and his friend Roger Turnip has stayed with Beth, and her husband as well as Carly and Peter Montgomery as they four parents talked for hours with the police about their missing girls. They were out looking now, Peter and David accompanied them. Carly had slipped into a restless sleep, but Beth couldn't close her eyes.
"Jonathon," her voice croaked a bit because she hadn't used it for hours, "Jonathon, do you think they're okay? The girls, I mean." She attempted a smile when he turned to face her, but it faltered and didn't stay.
"Oh, Beth," Jonathon said with an overly jubilant smile; he was just trying to be reassuring; "I'm sure they're fine, wherever they are. They probably just swam over to some sand bar and fell asleep."
Beth didn't know, but she was grateful Jonathon tried. "Thank you," she said, "for staying here, with me, with us."
"It's not a problem, luv," Jonathon said, his optimism never wavering. "Not a problem at all. You must be going through Hell right around now, I'm just here to help."
The words, though well intended, hurt a little, so Beth only nodded. Then she settled back into her silence, and Jonathon turned back around. But as soon as the silence came, and a heavy feeling of sadness fell over her, Beth knew she needed noise. It was completely dark by now, but you didn't need to see to listen. She knew she wouldn't be able to talk, but she really needed someone to talk to her. "Jonathon?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you talk to me? Tell me about yourself, what you do. I don't want it to be silent."
Jonathon sighed. "Sure, Beth, luv," he said, but then he paused. Was there anything Roger wanted to keep a secret? What should he lie about? Tell the truth about? He decided to be general. "Well, let's see here," the old hippie began, "ol' Roger in there,"—he gestured with his head back inside where Roger was sitting, silent, with the dozing Carly—"has been my best friend and business partner since…we were knee high to grasshoppers."
Beth managed a small smile at the term.
"We own and operate our own little antique coin shop—we have all sorts of old coins, from coins dating back to the Civil War and even some old pirate treasures from right around here—and we also sell some replica coins and what have you from movies. The Pirates of the Caribbean medallions, for one. We sell those on the Internet a lot, 'e-bay' and such."
"Amber loves Pirates of the Caribbean," Beth said softly, as if she was speaking to herself, and Jonathon was pleased to hear her talking about her daughter in the present-term. She hadn't give up hope yet. "So does Jessie; they both love that movie. They have their own medallions, too…just got them a few days before we came here."
"Why, that's mighty nice," Jonathon said as if the news was new to him; "I'll bet they love 'em."
"Oh, yes. They never take them"—here her voice cracked, for no reason other than talking about her daughter made her hurt; her voice hid tears—"they never take them off," she finished. Her eyes, wet and shiny with tears yet to be shed, raised up to meet Jonathon's, and he smiled at her.
"Jonathon, come here for a moment."
Jonathon turned at the sound of Roger's voice coming from inside the hotel room. In a weak attempt to lighten the mood, he bowed awkwardly and kissed Beth's hand. "'Scuse me," he said before leaving.
"Yeah?" he whispered to Roger when he reached the doorway. They were out of Beth's earshot, and Carly still slept. Roger had double-checked.
"What have you been telling her, Jonathon?" Roger asked warningly. "You haven't told her about—"
"No." Jonathon shook his head, annoyed. "All I said was that we owned an antique coin shop—and that's the truth—that we sometimes sold replicas from movies—and that's the truth. But I didn't say anything terribly important."
"You've already messed this up to begin with," Roger growled through his teeth; "you started this thing, and you're the reason Jessie and Amber are where they are now."
"Look, dude, I said I was sorry—we had, like, twenty sets of replica medallions to ship off that someone bought from the Internet. So I sent Jessie and Amber the real thing. The cursed ones. I get it, I messed up. Stop reminding me."
"Trinity's going to kill you for this, you realise."
"I can't believe you told her!" Jonathon shouted, and for a moment he made his voice a little too loud. Harshly, he lowered it. "We could've handled this on our own—as soon as the other girl's medallion touches the Caribbean water, they'll come back. We'll take the medallions, and Trinity didn't have to know we sold Amber and Jessie the medallions Tia placed that curse on."
"Wrong, Jonathon," Roger replied; "Trinity did have to know—how else could we have known where the girls where? Only she would've been able to tell us."
"I know." Jonathon sighed. "I just hate being on her bad side, that's all. Her voodoo freaks me out a bit." He paused as a thought struck him. "Hey, do we know which girl has which medallion?"
Roger shook his head. "No. But one of them has the medallion that sends you back in time, and it touched the Caribbean water as soon as she dived in, and that medallion took the form of the lost piece Tia created to keep people from messing with history. But the one that sends you back to our own time wouldn't have changed yet—it won't change at all; but it'll send the girls back as soon as the wearer gets in the water. Most of our ancestry takes place on a ship, so the medallion can't stay dry long. Just as long as the girls don't fool around with our history while they're back there."
"I understand how the curse works; the secret is the water, blah, blah, blah," Jonathon said. "No need to tell me it all over again. But I was wondering the other day, how come the Caribbean Sea's the 'key' of sorts? Why not just any water?"
"Because Tia made the curse here on these very waters. The curse was born here and only works here. This is where it starts and where it'll end."
"Oh. I still think the whole curse is pointless."
"Don't ever question anything Tia did in her time, or anything Trinity does today, Jonathon," Roger chided, "you know they hate it when someone thinks they know better than them."
"I know, what with their voodoo and all." Jonathon shuddered.
"It doesn't matter anyway. We're just here to help as best we can, and make sure Trinity gets the medallions when the girls come back. But most of it's up to the girls."
-o0o-
"I'm sorry, sir," the cop was saying to David Reece and Peter Montgomery as the boat he was driving pulled into the dock, "but there's nothing more you can do tonight. My officers will be looking until morning, and we'll send a fresh watch out at dawn."
"What are the chances our girls are alive, officer?" Peter asked shakily, remaining still as David jumped out of the boat to catch it before it hit the dock. The latter began tying the small bass boat up as the policeman answered Peter's question.
"I'll be honest with you, sir," he said soothingly, "unless they've managed to find land—and that's perfectly possible, these waters are full of small, uninhabited islands—I don't see how they could have survived just floating there." The man ran a hand through his shaggy, jet-black hair: it was obvious he was no native to Jamaica, as his skin tone and dialect clearly showed. His lack of a Jamaican accent made him easier to understand, but the fathers barely noticed such a detail as he kept talking.
"But people can be surprising at times when their lives are in danger. Your girls could be perfectly fine. My officers won't stop until we find some sign of 'em, I promise." Peter only nodded and step out of the boat; the officer continued to be sympathetic. "Y'all just go back to your room and try to sleep a little. We'll be out here doing all we can."
David thanked the man earnestly for all he was doing before he and his best friend made their way, weary and silent, back to the hotel they were staying; once there sleep would not come for either, so they could only sit in a fearful silence, wondering what news of their daughters the morning would bring to them.