*
The hotel had a small, beautiful, restaurant right out on the beach with a bamboo roof and vines growing along the walls. Cindy and Mattheus were shown to a table right on the sand and as they sat down could hear the sound of sea birds filtering through. Cindy felt both hungry and queasy at the same time. There was something in Mattheus’s tone that sounded like trouble up ahead.
“It’s been quite a day,” said Cindy, after they’d ordered their food.
“That’s putting it mildly,” said Mattheus, drumming his fingers on the table. The afternoon had grown cooler and the winds from the ocean blew in strongly on them. “This case is far from over, mark my words,” he added.
“Is that what’s bothering you so much?” Cindy asked, picking up a tall glass of iced water with lime and sipped it slowly.
“Partially,” Mattheus took a glass of water for himself as well and drank it all down. “I don’t know if it’s the best idea for us to hang out on the island. No one knows yet what’s happening with the wedding. If it’s called off there’s gonna be all kinds of news and backlash. I don’t want to be in the middle of it all.”
“You’re not and neither am I, we’ve been fired, remember?” Cindy quipped, though she was also concerned about what was going to happen. She liked Tara very much and couldn’t shake the feeling that Tara was terribly alone now. Rationally that was ridiculous. She had her wedding party, family, and all kinds of friends to talk to. There was plenty of support. She’d work it out, no matter what she finally decided.
“I’m worried about Tara, though,” Cindy added, as the waiter brought huge, delicious salads and homemade bread to their table.
Mattheus picked up a chunk of bread and covered it with warm butter. “Once you start on a case you’re never finished, until it’s truly over,” he said. “There are so many loose ends here and Tara is definitely unstable.”
Cindy took exception. “I don’t find anything unstable about her,” she said. “Any woman would feel the way she does.”
Mattheus put his fork down. “Really?” he looked over at Cindy.
“Yes, why is that so confusing?” asked Cindy, “the rug was pulled out from under her at the very last minute.”
Mattheus let out a long sigh. “Let’s eat and walk on the beach and talk,” he said quickly, diving into his salad and finishing it off as fast as he could.
*
The beach was cold and windy by now, with a feeling of rain on the way. Cindy pulled her light lavender cardigan over her shoulders and walked beside Mattheus, who took large steps along the water’s edge and was hard to keep up with.
“Slow down,” Cindy finally said, breathing hard. “What’s the rush, what’s the problem here, Mattheus? What is going on?”
Mattheus stopped, turned to her and looked at her squarely as the wind from the water tossed her hair over her face.
“I also have a child who lives on the islands,” Mattheus said squarely. “She should be about 15 years old by now.”
The roar of the surf pounded in Cindy’s ears and grew deafening as Mattheus spoke. She wasn’t sure that she was hearing correctly and lifted her hand up, as if to hold back the oncoming tide.
“What did you say? I didn’t hear you correctly.” Cindy called out.
“I have a child,” Mattheus called out over the surf. “A daughter, almost fifteen years old.
Cindy was speechless. “It’s not possible,” she called back, as if from another world.
“But it’s the truth and now you know about it,” Mattheus’s body lurched from side to side.
“I don’t believe it” Cindy’s voice echoed round and round.
“So, what are you going to do about it? Throw me into the sea?” Mattheus’s voice grew grainer. “My daughter’s mother and I met when I was just nineteen. It was a night of fun. We didn’t love each other, we didn’t know each other. We never will.”
“My God,” breathed Cindy to herself now.
Mattheus’s voice grew louder and fiercer. “I haven’t seen either of them for years.”
Cindy’s eyes started filling with tears. “Do you ever think of them?” she barely could speak. How was it possible that she was facing the same thing as Tara? What strange circumstance made this happen? Mattheus was not answering. Cindy’s voice grew louder, above the din of the shore. “Do you ever think of them, Mattheus?” she cried out.
“Sure, once in a while,” Mattheus finally said, “the daughter, that is, not her mother.”
“Have you tried to meet your daughter?” Cindy’s legs were shaking.
“I haven’t,” Mattheus said. “It could be too painful, for both of us, not just me.”
His voice, the news and the sea became deafening. Cindy’s heart pounded uncontrollably. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be real.