Oceanus took the lid off the urn and saw the ashes of Gilbert Winslow, Mayflower descendant, professor of entomology, a man who disliked celery, coconut and whistling. He tilted the urn from side to side, sending bits of bone and teeth rattling over each other. When the grey grit settled in a pattern that he found pleasing, he resealed the urn, kissed it once, and walked slowly to the garden. He sat under an awning of copper-colored leaves and set fire to a pile of twigs. From the urn, he took a handful of Gilbert’s ashes, but before he could sprinkle them, a troubling thought took hold. It wasn’t Gilbert’s death that most disturbed him – it was that he hadn’t seen it coming. It unsettled him to confess that he’d always been blind to the future. He could never see it coming, even the second before it arrived.
Three weeks earlier – Sulawesi, Indonesia
Two hours before he died, Gilbert Winslow and Oceanus Hopkins sat in perfect contentment, side by side, their bare feet dangling over the bow of the boat, drenched with warm, salty water. On the horizon, volcanic peaks thick with emerald jungles jutted up against a pink sky; a white-bellied sea eagle skimmed low over the water, snatching sea snakes with one foot. It was their twelfth anniversary, and they had sailed along the Indonesian coast to celebrate.
As they arrived at Wallace’s Line, the skipper killed the engine. In the sudden silence, Gilbert and Oceanus exchanged glances. They laughed at the sight of each other. The wind had tied Oceanus’ hair in so many knots he could not drag his fingers through it. Pelting salt spray had tinged Gilbert’s face pink, and the tropical humidity had curled his red hair into a crown of rusted steel wool.The instant the sun rose above the horizon, Oceanus tossed Gilbert a towel and a tube of 50-SPF sunblock.
“And you?” Gilbert said, displaying the sunscreen.
“And me?” Oceanus said.
“By the end of the week I’ll be chocolate brown and platinum blonde – you can’t beat Swedish genes for the tropics.” After Gilbert had slathered his face with sunscreen, pale as bone china, he turned to Oceanus.
“Is it Kabuki enough?” Gilbert asked, using the tips of his fingers to smooth the white cream up into his hairline.
“Hmm,” Oceanus said, surveying Gilbert’s face, as if the matter needed serious consideration. “I know, let’s backcomb your hair and get you a pair of exploding shoes – you’d be a dead ringer for Bozo the Clown.”
The Girl Who Died Twice Description:
Worlds apart, bizarre accidents kill both Oceanus Hopkins and Ellen Cabrera’s partners. Disillusioned, Oceanus sheds his old life and drifts to Buenos Aires. By chance, he comes across Ellen’s mysterious ad for a sperm donor – and he can’t get it out of his mind.
Ellen is more than her ad promised: strikingly beautiful, but with a wild, sensual nature. When they meet, things click and together they embark on a life-changing adventure.
Before long, a dark secret threatens to pull them into a sinister and unpredictable underworld. Blindsided, Oceanus fights to find the truth – and when he does, a shocking revelation sends him running for his life.
“Addictive . . . a masterpiece of suspense.”
“Heartstopping and hilarious.”
