Free Paradise Found by Nancy Loyan

clearing, she saw it. The massive tri-level building perched on a granite boulder overlooking the ocean. Constructed of slabs of shimmering island granite and timber, it featured a myriad of windows and a layer of decks. As they approached, she observed the infinity edged swimming pool and hot tub, seeming to blend with the turquoise of the ocean. A short distance from the property a bright yellow helicopter was set upon a concrete pad. She considered it odd, that for all its beauty, the property was empty. No tourists frolicked in the pool or sipped drinks at tables on the decks. An eerie quiet, except for the ocean waves crashing against the rocks, permeated the place.
    “Is this a brand new resort?” she asked, looking at Daemon.
    “It’s not a resort,” he answered with a smile. “It’s my nature reserve, my home, my escape from the world.”
    “Your home?” She choked on the words. This wasn’t a home. It was larger than most tourist hotels.
    “I built it a couple of years ago, when I decided to make the Islands my permanent home. I chose La Digue because it’s my favorite island in the Seychelles chain. I guess you can call me a Digueois, an island hillbilly.” He chuckled. “I prefer my private life out of the “fast lane” of Mah’e.”
    The driver drew the oxcart to a stop. Daemon jumped from the cart and held out a hand for Victoria and helped her down. As the driver unloaded their bags, Daemon said to him, pointing, “There’s water and some grain in the shed for your ox and a refrigerator with beverages and food for you as well.”
    “Thank you,” the driver replied, a grateful smile on his dark face.
    Victoria noticed how Daemon slipped the driver a wad of Rupees, an amount higher than most drivers were paid.
    A young Indian man in Bermuda shorts and polo shirt appeared from the big house, and grabbed the bags without a word.
    “That’s Raj, my house man. He’s shy,” Daemon said to Victoria as she stood stunned by the surroundings and the service.
    He took her hand and led her toward the teak stairs leading up to the big house. Victoria trembled at the luxury surrounding her. Though she knew Daemon was heir to the world’s largest resort chain, his wealth hadn’t hit her until this moment. She had known many wealthy people but none struck her as hard as Daemon. Unlike other men in his position he was seemingly unpretentious and empathetic, respected by everyone, he had a sense of ethics regarding the environment and business. He was as refreshing as the tropical breezes. He unsettled her.
    “I’ll show you to your room where you can freshen up. After lunch, we can bicycle down to Anse Source D’Argent, my favorite beach,” he said.
    Of course, it was her favorite, too. Sometimes looking at Daemon was like looking into a mirror, a mirror into her own heart and soul. Deep within they had much in common, though on the surface there were differences. The differences were what made her uneasy.
    The interior of the home reflected the tropical splendor found on the island. Fine rattan furnished the rooms with leaf and flower design upholstery and batik throw pillows. Locally hand-thrown Les Mammelles pottery vessels and Figaro hand carved bowls and vases were overflowing with gardenia, vanilla orchids and canna lilies. Their sweet fragrance perfumed the rooms. Grass cloth adorned some of the walls while others were of exposed timber. Colorful Michael Adam’s island paintings were framed and displayed. Bamboo shades framed large open windows while overhead fans circulated the air. A macaw fluffed its blue, red and yellow feathers as it perched on a stand near an ornate iron cage.
    “That’s Captain Cook,” Daemon said. “He’s my rescue bird and is aptly named because of his sometimes salty language.”
    Daemon led her down a wide hall, opening a door into an open set of rooms. From the doorway, an unobstructed view of the ocean led to a private terrace. Waves crashed on the rocks