Page 2 of Rogue
“I haven’t told the authorities what happened. It’s none of my business.”
I stare at him. “What do you mean you haven’t told the authorities? I got shot! Don’t they need to know?” I can’t help the panic from creeping into my voice.
He shrugs. “When a beautiful woman traveling alone—one who is afraid of heights—hires me to take her waterfall jumping, I know something does not add up. But I have what you Americans call good instincts, and I feel sure that despite whatever trouble you are in, you have a good heart. I couldn’t just leave you in the jungle at the mercy of those men, regardless of what you did. But I have my family to think about. Rosita assures me your injuries are not serious and you will be fine to travel. I will be happy to take you back to your hotel, or if that is not safe for you, I can send my brother to get your bags for you. But you cannot stay here any longer. I’m sorry.”
I’m having trouble wrapping my head around everything Jorge is saying. I look around for the video camera, sure I’m being punked. “What do you mean, ‘what I did?’ And what trouble? Why do you think I’m in trouble?”
“Because they were shooting at you, senorita.”
I suddenly can’t breathe. I take a couple of huge gulps of air, trying to slow my racing heart. It’s no use. The bullet didn’t kill me, but I’m going to die anyway of a heart attack.
Rosita says something in Spanish to Jorge, and he peers into my face. “You don’t look so good, senorita. You should lie down for a minute.”
“But someone was shooting at me! Why was someone shooting at me?” My voice is getting higher and higher, with a wobble to it that matches the one in my stomach.
“You don’t know why anyone would want to kill you? You wouldn’t be the first American to come to our country for drugs.” He studies my face.
“No! I swear! I’m just a wedding dress designer from North Carolina. I’ve never even smoked a cigarette, much less done drugs!” I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
Jorge lays his hand on my shoulder soothingly. “I am probably mistaken, senorita. This is Costa Rica. It’s a little unusual to have this sort of crime outside of the city, but it’s not unheard of. In fact, I read just yesterday that cocaine smuggling is becoming quite a problem here. It was probably nothing to do with you. It was most likely a drug deal gone bad. It is serious money here. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You think?” I want to believe him. I have to believe him. Because why would anyone want to kill me? I’ve never touched drugs in my life, and I don’t know a soul here, other than Jorge. In fact,no oneknows I’m here other than my two best friends. I take a deep, calming breath. He’s right. It couldn’t have had anything to do with me.
He exchanges a look with his wife and then nods reassuringly. “Absolutely. All’s well that ends well, no?”
…
Three days later…
“Shut up!” My friend Gemma gapes at me as I tell her the story when I’m back at work at the tiny shop we own together with our friend Charlotte in the historic downtown area of Charleston. Although I got back the night before last, I slept almost a full twenty-four hours after the rushed but uneventful trip back home, which included a layover in Miami. Other than a quick text to my friends to let them know I was home, I hadn’t mentioned why I had cut my trip a day short until we were all together this morning.
“It was terrifying! Thank God I didn’t realize what was happening until it was all over. Jorge, the tour guide who took me to the volcano and whose wife made sure I was okay afterward, said I was lucky. But when I think about what could have happened…” I shudder.
Back home, surrounded by the utter normality of my real life, the last few days in Costa Rica seem surreal. I’m still not sure my brain has fully processed everything that happened. Even with the reminder of my bandaged arm, I can’t help but wonder if I imagined the whole thing—the waterfall, the men with guns, Jorge’s house, and the unfamiliar but intoxicating exhilaration I felt after I realized I’d actually jumped off the falls. In fact, that alone is enough to make me wonder if it was all a dream, because that’s definitely not like me at all.
“Maybe we should put the Las Vegas trip on hold,” Charlotte suggests.
“We are NOT putting the Vegas trip on hold!” I slam my mug down so hard that coffee splashes onto the design spread out on the table in front of us. “It’s the only thing on Liam’s stupid list that I’m actually looking forward to. You guys cannot cop out on me.”
I glare at the faces of my two closest friends.
“We’re not copping out,” Gemma reassures me. “But if men were shooting at you…”
“They weren’t shooting atme. I’m sure of it. The tour guide was sure of it. Why would they? I’m a twenty-four-year-old nobody who designs wedding dresses for a living. Unless that horrible Shelby Meyers put out a hit on me.” I try to joke it off, referring to one of our most recent and notoriously high-maintenance clients who gave the term “bridezilla” a whole new meaning, but the memory still makes me uneasy.
Gemma laughs, but Charlotte still looks worried. “What about your arm?”
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “I went to the doctor yesterday, and she said it’s healing nicely. It’s not even that bad. And good news.” I smile. “It’s not even my dice-throwing arm!”
“As if you’ve ever even thrown dice,” Charlotte scoffs.
“Exactly.” I sigh. “Trying to finish Liam’s list has made me realize that I lead an utterly boring and uneventful life. I’m like a twenty-four-year-old grandma.”
“That’s not true,” Gemma says. “You’ve just had a lot to deal with in your life. Having fun and being reckless has never really been an option.”
I’d like to believe her. But even when I was younger—before my mom got cancer when I was a junior in high school and died two years later; before my father had a heart attack a year after that; before Liam became a Navy SEAL and then got killed on some stupid mission in the Middle East—I was more content to sit under a tree with a sketch pad than climb it. I just don’t have an adventurous spirit. Liam was the daredevil in the family. I was the careful one who always played it safe, afraid of stepping over the lines or causing any trouble. Although the way I felt after jumping off the falls had been pretty amazing.
It’s one of the reasons finishing Liam’s bucket list is so important to me. I’ve told my friends it makes me feel closer to Liam, which is true. It’s also true that I want to finish the list for Liam since he can’t, but if I asked his SEAL brothers, they’d do it in a heartbeat. But the real truth, the one I can only admit to myself, is I’m tired of living life in the shadows—afraid and cautious and always worried. I want to be like Liam. I want to feel alive and to experience everything in all of its technicolor brilliance. In a weird way, I feel like the bucket list is the last piece of advice I’m getting from my big brother, telling me life is short and I should stop being afraid of living. He’s telling me it’s my time to step out of the shadows and grab hold of every experience I can. To push the envelope and be bold and daring and fearless. He’s even given me the blueprint for it.
“Maybe you should report it to the police,” Charlotte suggests.
“And say what? I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught in the middle of a firefight in the Costa Rican jungle? That sounds crazy. I’m not going back to Costa Rica anytime soon, but I’m fine! They weren’t shooting at me. It was a fluke. A weird and scary one, but still, just a fluke.”
Charlotte nods. “That’s true. Why would anyone try to shoot you?”
“Exactly,” I say. “Now let’s wrap up what we need to do for the wedding this weekend and get ready for Vegas! It’s going to be a blast.”
