The sun had not yet risen over Paraiso. The whole Subdivision was a riot of pitch black and silhouette. It was still warm, but not more than ten degrees cooler than the previous heat at midday. The cockerels and dogs that stirred people into their daily routine had not yet greeted the dawn.
Emet Manalo stood at the side of her house beside an old motorcycle which, to be honest, had seen better days, but still worked and could still outrun many of its more efficient, more modern equivalents, especially over rough terrain. It might lack in environmental credentials, but it was what they needed to make a quick getaway.
She fiddled with her backpack, which contained essentials for their trip.
All she needed now was Frank.
And he was the one thing she was beginning to doubt would be there.
After all, she had confessed the sins of the Subdivision – and her sins. She really wasn’t sure how he'd react. She had planned this day to perfection. Set everything up. And it had taken time and effort.
But in all that, Frank Diggory was the one thing she could not count on.
She checked her watch. She was five minutes early.
That was unusual.
So she waited.
Each minute seemed to take an eternity. Each second changing on her watch seemed to take an age.
Was he coming? Would he come? Or had he blown her off out of revenge for spying on him for money?
Her insides were knotted and twisted with stress.
Where was he?
The five minutes passed. If she’d been told anything about British people, it’s that they value time-keeping. And fair play.
At least, on the surface.
So why wasn’t he there?
She also knew a little of their etiquette. Fifteen minutes. That’s as long as she should wait. Fifteen minutes. If he was not there by then, she was on her own.
She sighed.
She had already arranged for leave from work. If he wasn’t coming, she would go by herself. Have a good time. Forget all about him. Move on with her life.
Or she would try. But deep down inside, right to her bones, something told her that would be impossible.
She kicked the motorcycle tyres – half to check them, half out of frustration.
Where was he?
Five minutes late.
She wanted to run to the bathroom and scream. But he’d probably hear her and think she’d had a bad dream.
Had he forgotten?
Why wasn’t he here?
Just then, a red-faced, flustered, way too neatly dressed, white British man burst around the corner in a fit of sweat and stress. ‘I’m so sorry I'm late. I just realised that we’re going on a day out to a beach, and I don’t actually have a swimming costume. I guess it didn’t enter their imagination that a Scottish fella might want to go to the beach one day. Or a hat. Or sunblock. I mean, I sort of need sunblock. You might like me now, but will you still like me when my skin resembles a cross between an over-done lobster and a sun-dried tomato? So, what I mean is: I'm prepared for a day at the office. No problem. I can do that. But a day at the beach? Not really. Can you help me?’ Frank pleaded.
Emet chuckled with delight. ‘We’ll stop off at Isabel on the way. Something might be open. If not, then Palompon. We’ll find something. Come on, we’d better go before they realise you’re missing.’ She got on to the motorcycle and gestured to him to get on behind her.
‘Erm, okay. When you said you had wheels, I rather imagined four. This is about the lowest possible configuration that qualifies as “wheels’.’ Frank mused nervously.
‘Frank Diggory, it’s time to live a little. Or a lot. Just jump on board and hold on tightly to me.’ she commanded him.
‘I guess I have been doing that for the past four days. Okay, here goes nothing.’ He swung his left leg over the motorcycle, held Emet tentatively onto her hips and winced with his eyes closed, awaiting the torque when the brake came off and the motor started up.
Emet took his hands from her hips and moved them until they were around her, with his fingers clasped. ‘I did say tightly.’ she smiled.
‘Should we not have some sort of safety gear? Like a helmet or leathers or something?’ Frank asked.
‘I can help with the helmet.’ Emet told him, before jumping off and running into her house and emerging with two helmets: one bright pink and one black. She offered Frank the pink helmet in jest, before giving him the black one. ‘Okay, Frank, assume the position.’ she grinned craftily.
He again held her tentatively on the hips.
She again took his hands from her hips and placed them tightly around her waist, until his fingers interlocked in front of her. ‘Do you trust me, Frank?’ she asked him?
‘Well, yes, Emet, I think so.’ he replied, leaving room still for a little equivocation.
‘Then hold tight and don’t let go.’ She told him.
‘Don’t worry, I have absolutely no intention...’ Frank began, as Emet slammed her foot down on the starter, kicked the kick stand away, removed the brakes and the somewhat elderly Cub roared into life, lurching out from the side of her parents’ house and westward, towards Isabel.
Emet’s parents heard the roar from their pillows as the motorcycle disappeared into the distance.
‘I hope she knows what she's doing.’ Pastor Josh moaned.
‘If she doesn’t, then we didn’t raise her properly.’ his wife Judy replied.
‘That’s what I'm afraid of.’ Pastor Josh stated.
Much later, Ethan Peteros woke to some hard thumping on his front door. ‘What? No. We did nothing, Mister Bautista. I swear. You want me to marry her? Right now, you say.’ he drooled, before trying to get up, getting tangled in the blanket in which he and Captain Bautista were wrapped and crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Captain Bautista heard the thump. ‘Woah! Ethan! Don’t tell me you’re married too!’ she whined sleepily.
‘What? No! There’s someone at the door!’ a slightly more alert Ethan told her.
‘Oh, right. Forget I said that. You get it. I’ll stay here and keep watch.’ Captain Bautista murmured as she fell back asleep.
The thumping got louder.
‘If that’s the police, tell them I’m not here.’ Captain Bautista slurred.
Ethan got up and went to the door, sliding it open to reveal bright sunlight, which had been prevented from bathing them in the warm light of day by Ethan's heavy drapes. It almost blinded him. At first all he could see were two silhouettes, like people shaped trees, or tree shaped people. He just could not make it out. Several blinks later, he saw that Alberto and Andrea were standing in front of him. ‘Maayong buntag sa ‘yo.’ he greeted them. ‘I didn’t realise we were having the morning call here.’
‘We’re not. You didn’t show up for it. So we were worried.’ Andrea informed him.
‘Well, not so much worried. We thought it was a little strange.’ Alberto smiled.
‘Why, what time is it?’ Ethan asked.
‘Eight-thirty.’ Alberto told him. ‘And you were not the only one who didn’t show up. Sir Frank didn’t show up for breakfast.’
‘And who do you think will eat those awfully bland poached eggs? Will you?’ Andrea snapped.
‘Hold on. Kadiut. If Frank didn’t show for breakfast, then he didn’t show for the bus. And if he didn’t show for the bus...’ Ethan looked at his bank of monitors. Alerts were flashing on them all: from motion sensors, to microphones to cameras. ‘Darling! Wake up! I think they’ve taken Frank!’
Captain Reyna Bautista leapt to her feet. The blanket dropped to the floor, revealing a baggy pair of jeans and a hoody with ‘Real coders do it in Java’ inscribed on it, her hair still matted and knotted from her night ride. ‘Captain Reyna Bautista. Philippine National Police. We’ll find your missing dog.’ she told a computer screen, before noting in the reflection that Alberto and Andrea were standing in the doorway behind her.
‘Oh! She’s here!’ Alberto muttered.
‘And she’s wearing his clothes.’ Andrea added.
‘Lagi!’ Alberto confirmed.
‘Nothing to see here. Just move along.’ Captain Bautista told them drowsily.
Ethan tapped a few keys on his keyboard. ‘Just checking the logs from the motion sensors...’ he muttered. ‘Got it! He left at 5.08 this morning. And he headed... westward.’
‘So in the direction of the Manalo residence.’ Captain Bautista mumbled almost incoherently. ‘Sorry, I haven’t slept so well in ages.’
‘Oh really!’ Andrea and Alberto chimed.
‘Good call, darling. Good call.’ Ethan commended her.
‘He just called her “Darling”!’ Andrea whispered excitedly to her husband.
‘Yeah, yeah! We’re together. He’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. I'll never be with anyone else. I’d marry him right now if I could. Get over it! Now, can we get back to finding Diggory?’ Captain Bautista scolded them.
‘Really? We’re just going to brush over that like you never said it? Okay, we’ll circle back to that later.’ Ethan responded. ‘And believe me, we definitely will.’
‘Good.’ Captain Bautista agreed. ‘So where did he go next?’
‘Well, I don’t have any cameras at the Manalo place. Pastoral confidentiality. However....’ Ethan tapped a few more keys. ‘A motorcycle did leave the Subdivision at speed, heading towards Merida, with two occupants, one of whom appears to be the same size and build as Diggory.’
‘It’s him. Look at his clothes. No-one else around here dresses like an English office worker with no fashion sense. So he’s in Merida, then?’ Captain Bautista asked.
‘That was more than three hours ago. If he wanted to escape, I don’t think he'd stay there.’ Ethan responded.
‘I don’t know. I hear La Vista del Rio is very nice. Maybe he’s staying there.’ Andrea contributed.
‘We did some catering there. Beautiful place.’ Alberto added.
Ethan disagreed. ‘No, he’s gone. We need to find some clues as to where he’s gone.’ He tapped some more on his keyboard. ‘Oh, look! He’s left a message.’ He clicked on a video file, and Frank’s video message played:
‘To whoever is watching this: thank you very much for the wonderful hospitality. I will never forget it. However, I am led to believe that there is more to this beautiful island than just Ormoc City and Paraiso Subdivision, so I will begin to explore it a bit more. Please tell my boss that I won’t be in work today. He can decide not to pay me if he wants. However, I believe the information I will gain will help me in my job. Oh, and I’m led to believe that there are many poor people living around this Subdivision who can barely afford to feed themselves. That makes me really sad. So it would make me happy if they could all enjoy Andrea and Alberto’s delightful food once a day, and if the costs of this could be added to my tab. Thank you, and see you later!’
The faces of everyone watching that video fell like a stone. ‘How are we to feed all those people?’ Alberto moaned.
‘This is too much. Way too much.’ Andrea added.
‘I’ll need to call the mga afam.’ Ethan mused.
‘Hey, come on! What we need to do is find out where he’s gone, bring him back and make him see sense.’ Captain Bautista told them. ‘He’s only been gone for a few hours. He can’t be far away.’
In fact, Emet and Frank had blasted around the outskirts of Merida, headed north-west on an outstanding ride across the interior of Leyte on mountain roads that both terrified and enthralled Frank, particularly when they’d had to avoid stray dogs, anxiously flapping chickens and the odd truck, and had arrived in Isabel. They had rooted around for clothing in an okay-okay store that had only just opened, bought Frank a pair of grey cargo shorts and the loudest Hawaiian shirt they could find (just out of sheer rebellion), which set both off in loud fits of laughter, picked up some sunglasses each and were tearing up the road northbound towards Palompon.
They really didn’t need to do anything else. Frank was already having a ball.
But Emet had an enormous treat in store for him.
‘Wait a second: you have a kit to break into houses. You are a policewoman and you have a kit to break into houses.’ Ethan exclaimed in surprise as Captain Bautista tried to pick the lock on Frank’s front door.
‘Hey, we all have a past.’ she winked at him.
‘Yeah. Mine was dropping out of college to try to trade cryptocurrency . Yours is breaking and entering.’ Ethan argued. ‘Don’t you need a warrant for this?’
‘Yeah, and when do you think that will come? The nearest courthouse is Ormoc. This is the Philippines. How far away do you want him to get?’ Captain Bautista countered.
‘Isn’t all evidence obtained illegally inadmissible in court?’ Ethan short back.
‘Diggory is not committing a crime.’ Captain Bautista informed Ethan.
‘No, we are.’ Ethan parried.
The lock gave way and opened with a loud click. ‘Okay, I’ve broken in. Are you entering with me?’ Captain Bautista asked him.
‘Do you have any gloves like they have at letchon stands, or those little baggie things to cover our feet?’
Captain Bautista scoffed. ‘No. Of course not.’
‘But won’t we leave our DNA everywhere?’
Captain Bautista was intrigued. ‘Just what are you planning to do in there?’ she asked, with a slight perversity.
‘Nothing. Much. Just, you know, investigate.’ Ethan replied defensively.
‘Well, since it’s not a crime scene...’ She swung the door open and stepped inside.
Ethan followed her. ‘Okay, now it’s a crime scene. And we’re the criminals.’
‘Oh, I do love your innocence.’ Captain Bautista stoked his chin and his cheeks. ‘It’s so endearing. Look: take your shoes off, put on some chinilas and walk around. Look for clues. If you touch anything, leave no fingerprints.’
‘Got it.’ Ethan agreed.
They wandered together, room to room, systematically looking around, searching for any clue at all as to where Frank had gone, their chinilas clacking against the tiled floors.
But they found nothing. Not a trace.
They stood in the lounge. Bewildered. ‘Okay, let me tell you what I’ve observed.’ Ethan began.
‘Go ahead. Let’s see if we’ll make a cop of you yet.’ Captain Bautista invited him.
Ethan began. ‘There’s no food at all in the house. As in, nothing at all. So he doesn’t eat at home or entertain. Except for that football match. And I'm not sure that was entertaining.’
‘We know that, because you organise his breakfast and dinner every day.’ Captain Bautista told him. ‘But nevertheless, a good start.’
‘His fashion sense is terrible. He always wears the same clothes. Which is typical for someone who is a creature of habit.’
‘Or a British guy abroad. Continue.’
‘There is no sign of him having made any travel plans, so it was likely spur of the moment or he didn’t know where he was going.’
‘Good observation.’
‘And since he didn’t know anything about this island, he would need someone to go with him.’
‘Again, well done.’
‘There’s no sign of forced entry or a struggle, which means he left willingly.’
‘I’ll make a detective out of you yet.’
‘And we saw him in the company of someone he had a close relationship with – a certain Emet Grace Manalo.’
‘So?’ Captain Bautista teased a conclusion out of him.
‘So breaking and entering into his house was a complete waste of time. We’d have been better speaking to Pastor Josh instead.’ Ethan concluded.
‘Couldn’t have put it better myself. Come on, let’s go.’ Captain Bautista agreed. They left the house, changing out of the chinilas into their everyday shoes, jemmied the door lock closed and headed next door, to Emet’s house.
Pastor Josh answered the door. ‘Wow! You’re definitely taking a risk.’ he told Ethan and Captain Bautista.
‘Well, I figured she’s more than worth it.’ Ethan replied.
‘Aww!’ Captain Bautista cooed.
‘No. I’m talking about you, Captain Reyna. I know that Ate Reynalda has been with her family in Baybay for a week now. Who knows when those clothes were washed?’
‘Eww!’ Captain Bautista objected, sniffing the hoodie.
‘Don’t worry. I haven’t worn that in months. I’m so over Java now.’ Ethan assured her.
Captain Bautista could not hide her relief. ‘We’re here on official business. We need to know where Diggory and your daughter have gone.’
‘Sir Frank and Emet left early this morning. They did not tell me where they were going. They only assured me they would be back this evening.’ he informed them. ‘I was happy for them to go, so I leant them my old motorcycle. It will do them good to get out of here. They need time to be themselves, out of the way of those stupid cameras and microphones and who-knows-what.’
‘Hey! I installed that who-knows-what!’ Ethan protested.
‘And it is stupid.’ Pastor Josh reiterated. ‘They need their freedom. Let them be.’
With that, he closed the front door.
‘So, will we leave them be?’ Ethan asked Captain Bautista.
‘Of course not!’ Captain Bautista responded.
Emet and Frank arrived in the small port town of Palompon, where they found a pharmacy that sold high factor sunblock, so Frank would not turn the colour of an over-done lobster or a sun-dried tomato. Frank applied it in the public toilet in the white Barangay hall, across from the small tourist pier. He also got changed into his garish outfit and, at Emet’s insistence, took off his socks and shoes and put on some beach sandals. Which took a bit of getting used to. For a while he walked like a pink penguin in a Hawaiian shirt.
They made their way to the pier, where Frank looked with some concern on the wooden bangka that were moored there.
‘You said there would be a ferry.’ He said to Emet.
‘Yes. That’s it.’ Emet told him.
‘That is not like a Scottish ferry. Ours have little shops. And metal hulls. And can carry cars. And take far too long to get built.’ Frank argued.
Emet wasn’t in the mood for persuasion. ‘Well, it’s a long swim to where we’re going.’
‘And I suppose if this thing capsizes halfway then the swim will be shorter.’ Frank reasoned. ‘Oh well, I guess it will do. I’m just glad I’m bound for glory.’ he sighed, as he clambered, rather ungainly, aboard a bangka.
And Emet shook her head and grinned knowingly, before following him.
Back in Paraiso, Ethan called Agents Kaplan and Hughes.
‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ Agent Kaplan snapped, as if it was no pleasure at all.
‘Our subject is getting a little... well... demanding.’ Ethan told them.
‘He’s a British man abroad. What do you expect?’ Agent Kaplan told Ethan.
‘Hey! You Americans are worse.’ Agent Hughes. ‘And I should know. I’ve been to Edinburgh during the Festival. Do you people have nothing better to do in August?’
‘He’s demanded that we provide food for all the poorer people in the village.’ Ethan told them, expecting flak.
‘Interesting. I mean, we usually keep people poor so the aid industry survives and those hippies in USAID have something to keep them out if trouble.’ Agent Kaplan mused. ‘It makes us feel worthwhile.’
‘How many people are we talking?’ Agent Hughes asked.
‘Around a hundred families, so I would say around five hundred people...’ Ethan mused.
‘Five hundred? Jeez, have you people never heard of birth control?’ Agent Kaplan retorted.
‘Well, most of us are Catholics, so, no.’ Captain Bautista interrupted.
Ethan calculated in his head. ‘At the current price in the Kainan, I would say around two thousand five hundred...’
‘Pesos?’ Agent Hughes asked.
‘Dollars. Per day.’ Ethan told them.
Both Agents sucked air through their teeth.
‘What are you thinking, Hughes? Should we go Dutch?’ Agent Kaplan asked.
‘Are you kidding? They make the Scots look generous.’ Agent Hughes quipped. ‘I say we go French. Bill it to Interpol. Before they realise and go on strike.’
‘Good thinking. We can give the poor people a two-hour lunch break. The French would like that. Communists!’ Agent Kaplan spat.
‘So it’s okay? I have your approval?’ Ethan asked.
‘Go ahead. We’ll wire the money. As usual.’ Agent Hughes agreed.
And with that, the call ended.
‘And they wonder why people think they’re rich...’ Captain Bautista commented. ‘Okay, where are Diggory and Manalo?’
‘Well, I doubt they’ve hit the tourist trail if they’ve gone north. Not much to see up there.’ Ethan mused.
Captain Bautista disagreed. ‘Are you joking? There’s Kalanggaman Island, Biliran, Maripipi, Tacloban, MacArthur Park, the resorts in southern Samar. Even Samar itself. They could easily disappear there.’
‘So, we have a problem.’ Ethan sighed. ‘They could be in way too many places, and with this being the Philippines, not many places have CCTV that I can hack into. Unless...’ Ethan typed feverishly on his keyboard. ‘I’ll do an AI image search on social media. Someone’s bound to post a picture somewhere up north. He’ll likely show up on it.’
Captain Bautista took out her mobile phone from the hoodie’s spacious front pocket. ‘And I’ll put out an APB. Someone’s bound to notice him. How many mga afam are out there dressed like they’re about to sell you life insurance?’
An hour later, Emet and Frank’s bangka arrived at Kalanggaman Island. Frank had been awed into silence as soon as he’d set eyes on the place. He had no idea places like this really existed. He’d honestly thought influencers had faked their videos. But there he was, barefoot apart from a pair of slightly ill-fitting beach sandals, warm, crystal-clear water lapping at his ankles like a friendly lapdog, powdery white sand beneath him, palm trees in front of him slowly hula dancing without a hoop in the slight sea breeze. And to his right, the most enormous white sandbar, stretching back towards Palompon.
He honestly thought he was in heaven.
What a place this was!
Emet led her stunned afam ashore, got them a plastic table under a palm tree, just as the previous night’s hungover campers replaced them in their bangka, and placed her rucksack on the table. ‘Right, Mister Diggory, it’s time to swim before this place starts to fill up.’ she challenged him.
Within seconds, they were chasing each other in the shallows, splashing each other and launching themselves out into deeper waters.
Without a single care in the world.
Frank had forgotten everything.
Again.
While back in Paraiso, Ethan and Captain Bautista were beside themselves.
Not to mention Andrea and Alberto.
Pastor Josh and his wife Judy were the picture of peace and serenity. They trusted their daughter. They knew she wouldn’t do anything stupid.
Or, at least, too stupid.
On Kalanggaman, swimming lead to lunch from Emet’s rucksack. Lunch led to relaxing beneath the shade of a palm tree, while people-watching other visitors, young and old, excitedly lap up the delights of this special place and take pictures of them for innumerable social media feeds. Not to mention the vloggers, who seemed to be saying ‘Hi guys!’ with astonishing regularity – almost as often as they said, ‘Please like, share and subscribe’
Even the water lapping the sandy beach was less shallow than they were.
After people-watching got a little boring, Emet took her beau on a hand-held tour of the island, as they watched the boats coming and going, both to Palompon and the resort island of Malapascua.
This really was the most special of days.
Captain Bautista’s phone danced on Ethan's glass table as they sat, huddled expectantly, on Ethan’s luxurious couch. She grabbed the phone, swiped it and held it to her ears. ‘Asa sila? Hai, salamat kaayo ninyo!’ she said urgently, before grinning widely. ‘I know where they are: they’re on Kalanggaman Island. The local tanod in Palompon confirmed it.’
‘So, we’re going there?’ Ethan asked her fearfully.
‘Of course!’ Captain Bautista confirmed.
‘I mean, are we sure it’s them?’
‘Well, they met the description. Except he was wearing cargo shorts, sunglasses and a terrible Hawaiian shirt.’
Ethan sighed in quiet awe. ‘So he went in disguise. Clever guy! Well, I guess I’d look out a beach towel for both of us, some sunblock and my sunnies.’
‘And I'll get my leathers on.’ Captain told him.
‘We’re not going... by motorcycle?’ Ethan whimpered.
‘Well, it’s a really long walk.’ Captain Bautista told him.
‘And we’ll have to go by boat, right?’
Captain Bautista nodded. ‘An hour from Palompon.’
Concern flashed across Ethan's face. ‘I’d better bring some Dramamine. I should probably stock up on antihistamines too. You never know what could be blowing in the wind...’
Captain Bautista laughed. ‘It’s like my baby is sponsored by Watson’s Pharmacy.’ she retrieved her leathers from the laundry drying outside and headed for the bathroom. ‘I’d get changed in front of you, but you might have a heart attack.’ she jested.
‘Yeah, better leave something for the wedding night.’ Ethan quipped, before muttering to himself, ‘Mental note: before our honeymoon, buy a defibrillator.’
Minutes later, Captain Bautista, now in her biker leathers, was scampering down the hillside like a mountain goat to where her motorcycle was parked, while Ethan shouted, ‘Wait! Wait! I’m coming!’ as he slipped and stumbled his way down the slope after her.
Much to her amusement.
Ethan clambered aboard the motorcycle in the most ungainly manner, before they sped off to Isabel, where Captain Bautista silenced his whimpering by finding a place that sold bike helmets (despite assuring him that they would not be fined because of who she was). They then pushed on, hard and fast (much to Ethan’s sheer terror), towards Palompon.
It took them hours to procure a place on a boat. They hadn’t pre-booked and the vessels headed for the island were all full. Captain Bautista tried using her police authority to commandeer one, but that counted for nothing when she realised she had left her warrant card in Ethan’s ‘Real coders do it in Java’ hoodie.
So they waited. And waited. Until, at 5pm, two seats on a boat mostly full of half-cut revellers heading for a hedonistic night on the sand became available. Out they headed, as twilight was beginning to fall, flying fish were leaping and splashing into the water, and several drunks, who had grossly overdone their preloading of tuba and San Miguel, heaved the contents of their stomach into the deep.
They didn’t see another vessel, passing them through the gloom. They didn’t see that Emet and Frank were on board, snuggled together, enjoying a romantic moment, as their bangka sliced gracefully through the calm waters.
Ethan and Captain Bautista emerged onto the white sand paradise island just as Emet and Frank were clambering off their bangka and preparing to get on the motorcycle for their journey home – this time Frank had no misgivings at all about clutching Emet snugly around the waist.
Ethan and Captain Bautista spoke to several people on Kalanggaman. Showed them pictures of Frank. Walked the length and breadth of the island and quickly concluded that they had gone. So they stood on the south facing beach side of the island, asking every boatman who was arriving if he could take them back to Palompon.
But none could. All boats were at capacity.
They watched with meek capitulation as the island slowly drained of sunburnt but happy day-trippers, until only they and a smattering of tented revellers were left behind to watch a glorious sunset over Leyte, while standing hand-in-hand on the sandbar.
They strolled back onto the main body of the island and sat themselves under a palm tree, watching as the sea gently lapped the shore.
Ethan captioned their situation. ‘Well, there’s nothing more we can do. I guess we’re stuck until morning.’
Captain Bautista struck up an idea. ‘You know, we could commandeer a tent from one of those mga hubog. He’d be too drunk to notice.’
‘I love the way you use police language to justify something morally questionable.’ Ethan told Captain Bautista, looking straight in her deep, dark eyes.
‘And I love the way you act as my conscience and stop me.’ Captain Bautista replied, staring into his dark eyes. ‘We really are a good fit.’
‘We kind-of need each other.’ Ethan admitted.
‘We kind-of do.’ Captain Bautista agreed.
‘Did you mean what you said earlier, about never being with anyone else and that you'd marry me right now, if you could?’ he asked her.
‘Yes. Yes, I did. And I do.’ Captain Bautista responded coyly in the fading light.
‘Well, we can’t marry right now. I don’t think those mga hubog in the tents could officiate their own lives, let alone someone else’s, but there is something I can do...’ Ethan put his right hand deep into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, took out a ring, didn’t notice as Captain Bautista’s face lit up brighter then the waning sun, dropped onto one knee, and asked her, ‘Captain Reyna Bautista, will you marry me?’
Tears began to form in the deep wells of her eyes. She clasped both hands to her face in stunned surprise.
Ethan saw her reaction. Panic sunk quickly into his soul. ‘I’m sorry. I just get so carried away when I'm with you. Especially here. Is this too soon?’
Captain removed her hands from her face. ‘No. It’s not a second too soon. Yes, Ethan Peteros, I will marry you.’
They embraced tightly, just as the sun began its speedy journey beneath the horizon. Ethan slipped the ring onto her finger, and they embraced again.
‘So, can I tell someone this time?’ Ethan asked her, as he gazed in wonder and almost disbelief at his fiancée.
‘You can tell the world.’ She gushed.
And just as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, Ethan and Captain Bautista enjoyed the sweetest, most tender of kisses. As their lips partied briefly, Captain Bautista told her fiancé, ‘Could this moment be any more romantic?’
Right then and there, a drunk somewhere behind them let loose a huge burp, before emptying his stomach into a bush.
‘Mmm, possibly.’ Ethan grinned.
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