The Backpacking Housewife. Janice Horton
isn’t the famous Ethan Goldman!’
Had she recognised him because he was quite famous?
Or did she actually know him?
Oh Lord, please tell me this isn’t another ex-wife!
‘I could ask you the very same question, brother!’ Snapped the smartly dressed man.
Brother? Was that a term of endearment or was this man Ethan’s actual brother?!
I narrowed my eyes and recognised the line of this man’s hair, the broadness of his brow, the strength of his jawline, the shape of his eyebrows, the contour of his profile and the clincher that was his aquiline nose. This man was Ethan but perhaps in ten years’ time.
Otherwise they were clones. Time twins. Doppelgangers.
What did this mean exactly?
Did it mean that this man – whom I trust implicitly with my life and whom I love with all my heart and who has caused me so much angst over whether or not to return to my own family and who had just proposed to me with a diamond ring on a perfect beach on bended knee – has blatantly lied to me all this time about his so-called lack of family?
When Ethan is upset, he’s a man of very few words. I know this from experience because after a particularly traumatic incident at sea, involving a fully grown female whale and a Japanese whaling ship off the coast of the Philippines, when our ship The Freedom of the Ocean had arrived a little too late to save the whale but just in time to witness the terrible distress caused to her young calf, Ethan had hardly spoken a word for days afterwards.
When I’m upset, however, I need to talk it through. I need to micro-thrash the details.
So as we hurtled back towards Tortola at breakneck speed in our speedboat, I wanted to know how and why these people were drilling holes in Waterfall Cay – when it was supposed to be our island and our new home – and why, out of nowhere, it turns out that Ethan has a brother called Damion and a sister in law called Gloria.
But, when I voice my concerns and my confusion to him, I get the silent treatment.
Once we are back on Tortola, however, it appears we are on speaking terms again.
He tells me he’s taking a flight over to Grand Cayman to talk with his lawyers.
I point out that it’s already late in the afternoon. He assures me it can’t wait.
I say I’m going with him. The next thing I know we’re in a car heading to the airport.
I broach the subject again. It’s killing me that he’s lied to me. I need to know why.
My heart is so heavy right now that it hurts and I’m drowning in my own disappointment.
I’ve been the victim of lies once before and I’d promised myself never again.
My ex-husband lied to me and so did my best friend. It was cruel and soul destroying.
But Ethan? My strong, unshakable, dependable, rock? Well, that is truly heartbreaking.
Now, I look at him and I can’t help but to wonder what else I don’t know about him?
How many other secrets he might be hiding and keeping from me?
What other aspects about himself he might currently deny but eventually admit?
Ethan is slumped in his seat, his hand rubbing his forehead, as if he’s easing a pain.
‘I didn’t lie to you, Lori. He’s just no longer my brother. Hasn’t been for a long time.’
‘But he’s your sibling.’ I argued. ‘Just because you disowned each other doesn’t mean you’re no longer related. It’s not like divorcing Marielle. Your brother is family. He’s blood!’
‘Lori, forgive me, but this is not the time. I have to find out what happened with the lease.’
I bite my tongue and steel myself to stay silent. Not easy when I have so many questions.
And then, of course, there’s the elephant between us.
His marriage proposal is still hanging in the air.
At the airport, Ethan quickly charters a private jet. It takes us two hours to fly over to George Town on Grand Cayman. On the plane, in my big comfortable seat opposite Ethan, I sip a glass of champagne that was spontaneously offered to us after take-off. Only, it tastes sour in my mouth. Ethan didn’t even touch his. He just stared out of the small oval window, frowning.
At the lawyer’s office, I prefer to sit in the reception area listening to the heated exchange going on at the other side of a closed door. I check my phone. It’s 6pm here and so that means 11pm in the UK. It’s now too late to call my mum or my boys.
I decided to call Josh anyway and to leave another message.
When Ethan comes out of the lawyer’s office his face is red with rage.
‘Come on, Lori. Let’s get out of here. I need a drink.’
We walked two blocks and into a bar. I order a glass of wine.
Ethan orders straight bourbon. A double.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?’ I asked him tentatively.
He threw back his bourbon and swallowed it. ‘We lost it.’
I’m starting to feel sorry for him now. My heart softens. My anger dissipates.
I actually consider wrapping my arms around him to offer him some comfort because if Ethan’s drinking doubles then he’s having the worst day ever. And I’ve seen Ethan having bad days. Like the time we just happen to lose an underwater (thankfully unmanned) research drone that was apparently worth over a million US dollars. I consider his words for a moment.
‘How? I don’t understand. How did you lose an island?’
‘He got to the lease before us. His plan is to build a luxury hotel resort on the island.’
I shrug. ‘This isn’t like you, Ethan. If he got there first, then why all the resentment?’
Ethan was usually so philosophical about everything. I’ve never seen him harbour any hard feelings towards anyone. The need for justice, yes, absolutely. But, when faced with an unfairness, he’s normally the first person to say, ‘whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye’ which in Scottish, is the same as ‘what is meant for you by fate won’t pass you by.’
Obviously, he felt very differently regarding this particular situation.
‘Because he played dirty. I can’t believe he actually pretended to be me to get hold of that lease and then he took it for himself. He cheated us out of that island. Now do you understand?’
I nod my head slowly and I feel badly. I remember my ex-husband Charles doing something like that to me. He’d taken out a loan in my name because he’d been refused the credit. I only found out about it when he’d defaulted on the payments. ‘Yes. I think I do.’
‘Do you want to go back to Geluk Island for a while, Lori?’
I nod and offer a little smile and place my hand on his and give it a little squeeze.
Last January, we’d spent a blissful six weeks together on the island paradise called Geluk.
The name, pronounced Gluck, means ‘place of happiness’ and indeed we were very happy there. Ethan, or rather his foundation, the GGF, has an oceanic research centre on the Caribbean island. We’d spent our mornings working