The Last Golden Isle

By Patricia McAlexander

Ever since a traumatic experience as a college freshman four years earlier, Clare Matthews has had an aversion to men. But when she goes to spend the summer on one of Georgia’s Golden Isles as a companion for her cousin Sally, she finds herself drawn to Jon, a handsome young security guard who works on the family estate. When the feeling seems mutual, she hopes she has at last been healed. Then signs of his possible involvement in a dangerous criminal activity crop up, and Clare must make a decision that will affect the rest of her life.

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Dec 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781509252008

Patricia McAlexander

Biography Patricia McAlexander earned a bachelor's degree from The State University of New York at Albany, a master's from Columbia University, and a doctorate from The University of Wisconsin, Madison, all in English. After moving with her husband to Athens, Georgia, she taught composition and literature at The University of Georgia. Now in retirement she has enjoyed editing local newsletters, hiking, travel, and photography. But most of all she enjoys pursuing a childhood dream--writing novels.

Book preview

The GPS announced, "You have reached your destination."

She didn’t remember the gates. They were like those at the entrances to exclusive communities. Then, seeing the sign Sanderson Estates, she realized that this was such a community—the one her uncle had established since her last visit.

She pulled up to the gates and stopped. A tall, well-built, very tan young man in a white Oxford shirt and jeans—a security guard—came out of a small brick building beside the drive. Clean shaven, with dark curls cropped short and strong, even features, he reminded her of the statue pictured on the cover of her high school Latin textbook. She lowered her window, and he looked in at her, examining her with direct gray eyes. He held a clipboard and had a gun tucked into his belt.

Her hands grew cold. I’m Clare Matthews, Sally Sanderson’s cousin. They know I’m coming.

He looked at the clipboard, unsmiling. You have some identification, Miss?

PRAISE FOR PATRICIA MCALEXANDER:

STRANGER IN THE STORM (First Place, Suspense Short, National Excellence in Story Telling)

…A wonderful romance thriller…filled with twists, turns, and suspense…

~Still Moments Magazine

~*~

SHADOWS OF DOUBT (Heart Awards Finalist, Oklahoma Romance Writers Guild)

A coming-of-age novel involving the dark underworld of college drug dealing…At once chilling and literary.

~ Molly Hurley Moran, author of Finding Susan

~*~

THE STUDENT IN CLASSROOM 6

A fast-paced romance with a dangerous edge that is easy to read and hard to put down.

~Lori Duffy Foster, author of the Lisa Jamison Mystery Series

The Last Golden Isle

by

Patricia McAlexander

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The Last Golden Isle

COPYRIGHT © 2023 by Patricia Jewell McAlexander

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc.

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2023

Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-5199-5

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-5200-8

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To Alexis, who introduced me to Tybee, the island that inspired the setting of this book, and, once again, to Dorothy, Jane, and Kaycee, who helped bring this book into being.

Author’s Note

Nestled along the Georgia coast lie some fifteen protective barrier islands, formed between 40,000 and 4,000 years ago. The oldest of these arose before the last great continental ice sheet formed, the later ones when that ice sheet started to melt, and the sea flooded onto the land.

Treasure-seeking Spanish explorers descending upon the area more than four hundred years ago found only these beautiful islands rather than gold. Perhaps that’s why they came to be called The Golden Isles, the term most tourists now associate with four of them—Jekyll, St. Simons, Sea Island, and Little St. Simons. The main setting of this novel is a small fictional fifth Golden Isle—St. Sebastian’s. I imagine it as north of those four and farther out in the ocean, not easily accessible to the public until the late 1980s, when it was linked to the coast by the longest of the island causeways. Then publicized as The Last Golden Isle, my imaginary St. Sebastian’s became a popular tourist destination.

This story takes place in the spring and summer of 2015.

Chapter One

Wednesday, May 6 - Friday, May 8, 2015

The drumbeats of dance music on the floor below pounded, pounded, almost, it seemed, in time with the pounding between her legs tearing her apart. It went on and on until at last there came another sound, faint at first, then increasing in volume—a rapping on a door. The music and pain faded, but the raps continued.

Clare Matthews woke up, her heart racing. Four years had passed, but the nightmare recurred at unexplained intervals. The door to her bedroom opened, and her mother looked in—tall, thin, dark hair graying at the temples, concern on her face. Honey, I heard you cry out. Are you all right?

Clare, who had always hidden the nightmares from her mother, tried to sound normal. I’m fine. I must have been dreaming. What time is it?

Almost ten. Her mother entered and stood by the bed. Maybe you’re still upset about your job falling through.

Clare sat up, pulling her fallen nightgown straps up over her shoulders, pushing back her long hair. That must have been it.

She’d planned to earn money for graduate school by working that summer as a researcher at the University of Georgia library archives, viewing old news reels, categorizing and digitizing them. After their May fourth graduation from the University, many of her classmates had headed to full time jobs in cities like Atlanta, Washington, D.C., and New York. Clare, however, looked forward to the archives’ safe, self-contained, air-conditioned space all summer and to working on a master’s degree in English in the fall. Then, just the day before, the library director texted her, telling her the grant had fallen through and they’d had to cut her position. You know, her mother told her immediately after the text came in, "maybe this is for the best. You don’t have to go back for a master’s. It’s time you went out in the world. Private schools in Athens and Atlanta are still hiring teachers with bachelor’s degrees. You’ve focused on your studies too long, been too anti-social, ever since that night…"

Clare of course knew what night her mother referred to. The subject was supposed to be taboo. That forbidden reference must have brought on her nightmare.

In spite of her efforts to suppress them, something always triggered the memories of that August four years ago when she was a first-year student at the University and a new sorority pledge. Only a few days after classes started, she’d been invited with a group of sisters to a fraternity party at an off-campus house. Something must have been put in her drink. She didn’t remember how she got upstairs to that bedroom or who took her there. She just remembered being blindfolded, then held down while three males took their turn on her.

God, she’s a virgin, she heard the first one say. Then she’d passed out completely.

Now Clare sat on the edge of her bed, thinking of that nighttime flashback and her need of money for graduate school. Her mother put an arm around her, looking contrite. I’m sorry your library job fell through. Yesterday, I didn’t mean to mention… Then she perked up. Actually, I came to wake you up because I may have some good news for you.

Clare looked at her.

Your Aunt Rose called early this morning. I’ve told you about the pneumonia your cousin Sally had last winter. She had to drop out of college for that semester. She’s recovered, but she’s still at home on St. Sebastian’s Island, lonely and depressed. Rose wants you to spend the summer with them there. When she’s visited us in the past, she’s noticed how capable, serious, and studious you are. She says Sally needs a friend, a companion like you, until she goes back to school in the fall.

Really? Clare’s tone was doubtful.

She wasn’t sure about the invitation. Yes, she was capable enough, and no doubt mostly serious and studious. She hadn’t told any fellow students at the University about the rape, but since that night, as her mother said, she’d changed. Immersing herself in academics, she dropped out of the sorority, cancelled her social media accounts, and if any boy acted interested in her, turned him away—she could no longer bear the thought of a male touching her. Her roommates told her she was called The Ice Princess. But serious and studious wasn’t the whole story. She practiced yoga, swam at the university pool, hiked on Georgia’s mountain trails, even played intramural tennis.

Also, she didn’t know her cousin very well. She’d visited St. Sebastian’s only once—when she was seven. Clare remembered playing with then five-year-old Sally on the beach, the two of them scampering in and out of the waves while their mothers sat in folding chairs and talked. There were photographs taken of the cousins side by side—Sally, small and sturdy, tow-headed and blue-eyed, and herself, taller, thin, knobby-kneed, with fawn-colored hair and eyes the color of the green seaweed they clutched in their hands.

Wouldn’t you like to spend the summer with your cousin? her mother asked. You should get to know Sally again. You two haven’t been in touch except for those little Christmas cards Rose and I make you send each other every year.

I know. But after that visit to St. Sebastian’s when I was seven, you never took me with you when you went there, and Aunt Rose never brought Sally here when she visited us. Why was that?

At first, I suppose it was because Sally became such a difficult child, so high strung, hyperactive. It was easier for the two of us to visit without getting you children involved. Then, when Sally was older, she was always away at boarding school and summer camps, and you had your activities too. But it sounds like this summer would be the perfect time for you and Sally to get together again.

Clare shook her head. I need to earn money this summer.

Well, I haven’t told you everything. When I mentioned your financial situation to Rose, she said she was sorry she hadn’t given you a graduation present yet, and that she’d gift you ten thousand dollars if you stay with them from now until your classes and Sally’s start in August. She’d direct deposit that amount in your checking account at the end of your visit. She said that would make up for your giving up a summer job. Surely that’s more than you’d have earned at the library.

Clare stared at her mother. It is. But why would Aunt Rose do that? And would she really do it?

Why would she? I’m sure because she wants to give you a graduation present—and because she wants you girls to finally spend time together. Both of you are ‘only children,’ after all. And of course Rose would keep her promise. Your uncle Tony has made lots of money with his hotels and that gated community on St. Sebastian’s. My sister may not be practical, or very worldly-wise, but she has a checkbook and credit cards, and she knows how to spend. You’d be sure to get the gift, dear, and have a wonderful summer. And then you’d have the money for that master’s degree you’re so determined to get.

Would you mind if I went there for the whole summer?

I’ve gotten used to living by myself since your father died and you’ve been at college. You’d have been working in Athens anyway this summer if the library job had come through. St. Sebastian’s is farther away, but it won’t be that different for me. Her mother paused. Rose wants you to come as soon as possible—this week, in fact.

I have to think about it. Clare went to the bathroom off her bedroom and closed the door. She thought of her Uncle Tony’s widely used promotional phrase for St. Sebastian’s—The Last Golden Isle. It was in fact the last of the currently termed Golden Isles to be made accessible to and popular with the public. To her, the word last had always somehow made St. Sebastian’s seem ominous—as if it were a place of treacherous black rocks instead of golden sand, a place of endings, even death. But this morning, as she washed her face and brushed her hair, she focused on the phrase Golden Isle. It suggested a paradise, like the Elysian Islands of Greek mythology. After the rape, Clare had refused to see a psychiatrist or to transfer to another college, as her mother had urged her to do. She sometimes wondered if she should have followed her mother’s advice. Now she wondered if spending a summer on this island might dismiss the nightmares that still haunted her.

She thought of how beautiful St. Sebastian’s was, with its palm trees and sandy beaches, and what a good playmate Sally had been during her childhood visit. True, she’d thrown a couple of tantrums which Clare had watched with a kind of shock—but they’d been about childish things, over quickly. Now Sally, at age twenty and after two years of college, would be grown up, almost her contemporary. Surely, they would again have fun together. And yes, ten thousand dollars at the end of the summer would provide more than enough funds for a year of graduate school.

When Clare came back into the bedroom, her mother was leafing through the book on the table beside the bed—a Faulkner novel. She looked up at her daughter.

How about I do a Facetime session with Sally, Mom? So we can get reacquainted.

****

That afternoon Clare sat in the wingchair in her bedroom holding her phone. Sally’s face, slightly blurry, appeared on the screen. Her cousin looked pale, but still had the shimmery gold hair of those childhood visits and the vivid blue eyes. It looked as though she wore black eyeliner, but maybe that was her natural dark lashes. Clare? came Sally’s voice, a bit tinny on the phone. Hi! It’s been so long.

Yes, fifteen years. We were just children.

Mom says she’s invited you to stay with us for the summer. I’d love that. If you come, we’ll have a wonderful time. We can go to the beach, kayak, paddle board, hike. And we can go out on the ocean in my father’s yacht.

It does sound great. But tell me a little about yourself. My mother said you were sick but are better now.

"Oh, yes. It was a strange experience. I had to drop out of college last semester, you know. I’m tired of staying here at home, by myself at the pool or hitting tennis balls alone. I’m ready to go out and have fun again. My mother will be so happy if you stay with me this summer, and so will I. You will come, won’t you?"

Mrs. Matthews, standing by the door, spoke up. Can I speak to Sally? Clare put the phone on speaker and held it up. Hello, Sally darling! I’m so glad you’re better.

Her cousin’s bright voice replied, Me, too. And I want Clare to come as soon as possible. She’ll love it here.

I know she would. I’ve been sorry you and she haven’t visited each other all these years.

Then it’s settled? Sally asked.

Clare thought again of her graduation gift and Sally’s intriguing description of the many things they could do over an idyllic summer. The visit might help her—and it seemed would help her cousin too. It’s settled, she said.

****

And so the Friday after the graduation ceremony, Clare drove her car down Interstate 16 toward Savannah, three small suitcases and a garment bag in the trunk, books and laptop in the backseat. She thought of the pictures Sally sent her when she’d agreed to come—of boats, of vivid pink sunsets over the water, of a party on a beach. In that party photo, Sally sat close to a blond young man, maybe in his twenties. His arm was around her and he was smiling, his even white teeth like those in a toothpaste ad.

Clare had texted Sally:

—Is he your boyfriend?—

—That’s Jason Eldridge. He’s the son of my father’s partner—was Sally’s reply. —That picture was taken last summer.—

At the time, that exchange made Clare feel a little apprehensive. On St. Sebastian’s, idyllic as it might be, would she have to socialize, attend the kind of events she’d avoided the last four years? But now as she drove, listening to classical music on her radio, she began to feel more confident. After all, in this new place with her cousin, she should try at last to socialize more normally. Plus, she had her own car. If worse came to worse, she’d go home and look for another job.

That afternoon, as she drove past the exits for Savannah, she remembered the Spanish moss hanging off the trees and its beautiful squares. She stayed on I-95 South, until she came to the exit for St. Sebastian’s.

Where the exit ramp joined the local highway, a sign with a picture of ocean waves and palm trees indeed proclaimed, St. Sebastian’s, The Last Golden Isle, Four Miles.

Clare soon joined the lines of cars streaming