Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“I want you to have your own scent on your lips all night.”
“You’re impossible, Daddy.”
“You’re beautiful, Babybear.” He straightens my dress and plants another kiss on my forehead. “Let’s go celebrate.”
It’s Thanksgiving. Here in the Cayman Islands where we live it’s not a huge holiday, so when we have our Thanksgiving dinner, we invite everyone we know. And almost everyone is free because down here it’s just another day.
Before we left, Daddy was able to get a message to George and Sarah that we needed to say goodbye but that’s it. He said they would understand, it’s a side effect of the business. Sometimes people have to disappear.
Since Daddy already had nearly all his money in offshore numbered accounts, it wasn’t that hard to disappear and start over. Making sure the animals were able to come with us was the hardest part.
We ended up like Noah’s Arc. Daddy chartered a huge boat, complete with accommodations for most of the animals. The ones we couldn’t bring, he made sure they had good homes after we left by making a sizable donation to a rescue group that promised in return for the funds, each animal would be cared for until their final days.
In his message to George, he told him to hire Contessa and take care of her as well. Tell her a very safe, condensed version of why we had to go and not say goodbye.
But we’ve not had any contact with any of them since the day we left and I often sit and wonder how my pseudo family is doing. There’s some melancholy there, because just as I was building that family, it was taken away.
We moved last year to a larger place on the island. It’s more a compound than a house.
We live well here and extravagantly by local standards. Our friends know us as Paul and Stacey Finkle, U.S. expatriates who defected for both political reasons and a desire for a different kind of life for our family.
Our new home sits on just under two hundred acres, far outside of East End. I have a flower and vegetable garden that would rival any in the world, with a gigantic faerie garden as well which all the local children love to come and visit.
Elly and Leah help me every day, whether it’s in the vegetable, flower, herb or faerie garden. Their little brother Elijah takes quite a bit of my time, but the girls are little mommas and have been a huge help as well.
We have a staff that has become our new family. Marcene helps me with the children and they all call her Nanna. Her husband, Damon, is our handyman and their stand-in Grandpa as well. They live here on the property, in one of the villas that are scattered back on the property from when it was a working cotton farm.
Before leaving the bedroom, I look at the two lists of our rules and responsibilities that hang on a corkboard above our dresser. They have been adjusted and added to over the years, but the spirit of them remains the same; and while it may not be how other people choose to live, it works for us and that’s what matters.
Downstairs, the house is full and loud. There must be nearly fifty people already here and more on the way. Kids are running wild inside and out, and the voices of laughter and lively conversation warm my heart and make me smile.
“I love you, Babybear.” Stas whispers in my ear as we step into the main living area and are greeted by our new-found family and friends.
“Here’s your little man.” Marcene holds a sleeping Elijah out for me, but before I can take him Stas steps in.
“I’ll take him.” He gathers the infant against his chest, placing a kiss on his head before heading over to a group of men who are already teasing him unmercifully.
He’s the most loving man I’ve ever seen. His affection knows no bounds and it extends to all of our children. He’s a softy as well, leaning more toward what I’d call free-range parenting, the kind I used to refer to in my pretend life in the ‘village’. He lets the children be children and never wants to impose too many rules or restrictions on them.
It leaves me to be the heavy sometimes, but when necessary he always has my back. Our life here is carefree, unlike our upbringings back in the states. And our children remain happy and well behaved, despite the somewhat lacking rules and boundaries.
Stas had Romper and Geisha brought here a week after we arrived. They have settled right in, along with a growing number of other donkeys, goats, sheep and a new alpaca. Every one of them was rescued by us, from neglect or homelessness, and I’m grateful that we’ve been able to do that.