The Wedding Veil(44)

I tossed and turned that night, filled with dread. My dream of being an architect was gone. I had no job, little money, and plenty of bills. What was I going to do?

As the sun began to stream through the windows, I started to feel the slightest bit better. I needed a plan. That was all.

I glanced at the alarm clock to see that it was nearly seven. I felt like I could sleep all day or, at the very least, lie in bed all day and cry. But a guided hike was leaving at eight, and even though it was going to take all the effort in my body to get up, put on a brave face, and view the world through this new Hayes-free lens, I was going to go.

I rubbed on my sunscreen, assessing my tan in the mirror of the bathroom, which was made entirely of teak and felt more appropriate for a yacht than a resort, slipped on a pair of shorts and a jogging top and grabbed a water bottle, a hat, and sunglasses. The sun was low and lovely, as if it was lazily making its way out of bed too. Only a handful of people stood at the base of the mountain trail when I got there. Usually, I would have made small talk, but this morning I just couldn’t.

“Jules!” Trav exclaimed when he saw me. “I’ve missed you at paddleboard yoga!”

“Yes, well, I’ve missed you too. My life crisis got in the way.”

He made a terrified face, and we both laughed.

“Last hike,” I said sadly.

“Of your whole life?” he asked sarcastically.

I smirked at him. “Ha-ha. I have to go home tomorrow—and I’m dreading it.”

“You should just stay,” he said.

I laughed, thinking that the balance in my bank account was roughly the same as one night in this pricey resort. “I wish. I have had a recent reversal of fortune in the financial department.”

“Reversal of fortune. How very Shakespearean of you.” He waved at our small group. “We’re heading up the trail in three minutes! Make sure you have water and sunscreen, please.” Then he turned back to me. “Is this because of the calling off the wedding thing?”

I shrugged. “Well, yeah. That and the dropping out of architecture school thing. Which I’m still paying for, by the way.”

Trav winced, rubbing his chin. “Tell you what. I’m short a yoga teacher the next two weeks. I can’t pay you, but I can house you with us and get you free meals if you could use a couple more weeks to languish in your existential crisis. Would that help you out?”

I gasped, thinking it over quickly. I had enough in my bank account to cover my student loans and health insurance for a little while. It would be tight, but I could stay here two more weeks, soak up paradise, and figure out my next steps in the meantime. And, if I stayed, there was always the chance I might bump into Conner. After island hopping with his friends and parents, would he come back here looking for me?

When I didn’t answer immediately, Trav said, “Just let me know after the hike.”

“Spring Break 2012?”

He grinned. “Never looked back.”

I followed him up the trail, the others behind me. “I know it’s warm this morning,” he called to us, “but when you see the view from the top, it will all be worth it.”

This was, perhaps, my favorite thing about the BVIs: the clearest Caribbean water juxtaposed against the most majestic mountain peaks. It was geographic perfection.

As I hiked, focusing on the flora and fauna of one of the world’s most beautiful places, my head cleared from the drama surrounding me. I thought of Babs and how I couldn’t wait to see her when I got back—and maybe delve a little deeper into my thoughts about our wedding veil. I smiled when I pictured her seeing me. You look so sun-kissed, darlin’, she would say.

Yeah, we all knew that a tan wasn’t healthy, but Babs sure did love it.

As we reached the vista, I climbed up to stand on a mud-colored rock and took a deep breath. Up here, with the sparkling water far below, it felt like I was a part of the sky, like the real world didn’t exist anymore. The clear blue ocean dotted with the green of islands, surrounded by mountains, looked like a movie set. Could something this beautiful actually be real?

“This is my best thinking rock,” Trav said, startling me.

I smiled, noticing his vintage HUGS NOT DRUGS T-shirt. Trav was practically a caricature; he fit every stereotype I’d ever known about a disgruntled American who left behind the rat race for the good life.

“When I have a big decision to make,” he continued, “I come up here and sit on this rock.”

“For real?” I couldn’t imagine that Trav was making a lot of tough decisions, but I liked the idea of it.

He nodded. “For real. You should try it.” He gestured toward the group. “I’m going to take them back. You know the way if you want to stay behind for a few minutes?”

I nodded.

“If you aren’t back in an hour, I’ll come make sure you haven’t been eaten by a mountain lion.”

“Well, that inspires a lot of confidence.”

As the group made its way down the mountain, I sat on the rock, which felt cool and mossy against my bare legs, closed my eyes, and breathed in deeply. I’d meditated before. I wasn’t good at it. Being good took real focus on clearing your mind, and that wasn’t my favorite thing. But in the stillness of the moment, it seemed more effortless than usual. Or maybe my sleepless night had me all thought out.