Vacation in Paradise

After checking in we spotted the notice on the end table. “Welcome to paradise. Please join us for a bonfire on the beach at 9 PM”. We looked at each other and smiled. What a perfect start to a romantic get-a-way. We had escaped from the stress of business, nagging the children to clean up and do their homework, paying bills, taking care of the lawn and garden, and general upkeep of the house.

We and about twenty other guests sat around the fire pit in our lounge chairs sipping our preferred adult beverages. Stars twinkled and waves softly lapped against the shore. At exactly 9 PM the front desk clerk lit the fire. In a minute it was raging. As we watched the embers fly to the stars it was beautiful and we felt so peaceful. An occasional light sea breeze blew a short blast of heat towards us igniting a slight sense of fear and foreboding.

Time seemed to disappear as we held hands and allowed our bodies to slowly relax and be present in this perfect place. Several palm trees along the beach swayed gently against the night sky, spot-lighted by the bonfire. The fire died down after some unknown period of time. I reached over to a plastic bag I had removed from the waste basket in our room. The only flaw in the room was this. But rather than report the misstep to the desk, I decided to just bring the contents to the bonfire and avoid getting the maid in trouble.

I stood and emptied the rumpled papers into the fire. It flared up quickly as pieces of paper ignited and took flight. One such piece fell to the sand at my feet. After a minute or so I bent down to retrieve it and return it to the fire. I was surprised to see the writing- two letters “HE” then the charred end of the paper. I thought that maybe somebody was using their vacation to write a short story. They probably got stuck which would account for the basket full of rumpled paper. My partner agreed and added “It was probably a male doing the writing since the very first word was ‘he’…

It was a fabulous and totally relaxing week of doing almost nothing. Our week passed by watching fleets of pelicans fly by in formation just a few feet above the water, dolphins playing and leaping and seagulls looking for a handout at the clusters of snacking guests sitting under bright red umbrellas on the beach. Tough life. But now it’s back to reality. The suitcase seemed to be stuck or at least reluctant to leave, like we felt too. I bent over to check the wheels and spotted a small piece of paper under the rear leg of the desk.

My first instinct was to let the maid get it. But something urged me to take a look. I lifted the desk corner and my partner extracted the note. Opening it we both gasped as we read “HELP ME”. Our idyllic week was transformed in a moment.

About ten minutes later, we stood before the sergeant at the front desk. The sergeant examined the note and summoned a detective. We were invited into his office. He assured us that we were not just “two silly tourists”. He opened a folder worn at the corners from use, and exposed pictures of a few dozen young girls.  “Have you seen any of these girls on the premises?” We answered “no”. He thanked us and assured us that the police will focus on our motel.

As we pulled away and headed to the airport in our rental car, we glanced at each other and silently gave thanks for the problems of our routine life and silently pondered the fate of those girls. Paradise will never be the same.