Lost in Paradise

by Rachel Lacey

  Nicole’s breath hitched, and panic clutched at her stomach. Oh God. Had the infection spread to her bloodstream? Their situation had just gone from bad to dire, and Nicole’s brain was spinning on the implications.

  “What?” Fiona asked.

  Nicole schooled her expression. “It looks a little worse, that’s all.”

  She turned off the flashlight and put away the first aid kit. Fiona didn’t ask for details. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe it was better for her not to. Together, they climbed the hill to the ruins where they’d first had sex, their new home away from home. Earlier, Nicole had laid their sleeping sacks here, spread out like a blanket the way Fiona had prepared them last night.

  They lay together, facing each other and hands entwined. Fiona’s eyes were bright with fever, her brow knitted with pain.

  “I’m sorry,” Nicole whispered, pulling her close.

  “It’ll be better in the morning.” Fiona rolled away, scooting toward her so they were spooned together, her back to Nicole’s front.

  Nicole wrapped an arm around her, hoping her words were true. She lay there for a long time, hoping, as the last glimmer of the sun faded away and the moon rose bright and silvery over the sea. Fiona’s breathing evened out as she drifted into sleep, but it was a restless sleep. She tossed and thrashed, occasionally mumbling and whimpering under her breath. Sweat slicked her skin.

  Nicole rubbed a hand up and down her back, feeling the danger of their situation more acutely than ever. Until now, logic had dictated that their best hope of rescue was to stay on the island and make themselves as visible as possible. Fishermen were sure to find them sooner or later.

  Venturing out again in the lifeboat had a high risk of failure. They had no fuel and were running low on water. They might float safely to the mainland, or they might drift helplessly out to sea. But if they stayed here on the island another day, Fiona might die, so Nicole didn’t see that they had a choice.

  Tomorrow, it would be time to take matters into their own hands and save themselves.

  PAIN. So much pain. Everything hurt, from her scalp to her toes, centered in the endless throbbing that radiated from the wound on her leg. Sometime during the night, Fiona slipped out of bed, carefully disentangling herself from the arm Nicole had wrapped around her. She walked to the edge of the pavilion and stood looking down at the beach.

  Not that she could see the ocean, but she could hear it. The moon had sunk below the horizon hours ago, leaving them in total darkness. Above, the heavens glowed with endless stars, a fact she would have appreciated a lot more if her eyes would focus properly.

  It would be foolish to stumble around in the dark when she was semi-delirious, so instead she sat at the edge of the pavilion, resting her cheek against the cool marble of the nearest column. Her throat was parched, but she couldn’t remember where they’d left their water supply after their relocation and probably shouldn’t drink anything anyway. Not only were they running low on water, but her stomach felt queasy enough that she’d probably throw up if she tried to put anything in it.

  She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there before she felt movement behind her. Nicole’s hand landed on her shoulder, and Fiona leaned unconsciously into her touch, helpless to fight the pull of the connection that ran between them.

  “You okay?” Nicole asked softly.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Need anything?”

  She shook her head against Nicole’s shoulder. “Talking to you is nice, though.”

  “Your fever’s worse.”

  She didn’t answer, didn’t have to when they both already knew the truth.

  “When the sun rises, I’m going to pack the lifeboat. If we’re lucky, the tide will carry us to safety before nightfall.”

  “Or it will suck us back out to sea.” But she didn’t have the strength to launch a proper argument against Nicole’s flawed logic. Maybe her own logic was just as flawed. Her brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and lit on fire.

  “I think we need to take our chances.”

  Fiona was quiet. The thought of getting back on that boat—especially when she felt like this—was almost too much. But they hadn’t gotten this far by backing down when things got tough.

  “I’m turning forty in a few months,” she said instead.

  “What?”

  Yeah, Fiona wasn’t sure where that had come from either. Her brain wasn’t quite in line with her mouth tonight. “It’s been on my mind these last few days, that’s all.”

  “You’ll be home long before then,” Nicole said, giving her a squeeze.

  Will I? Fiona had never considered the possibility that she wouldn’t survive this. But sitting here racked with fever, infection raging, she wondered. “Not a big deal,” she mumbled. “Just a number.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want me to get you one of those Forty and Fabulous shirts?” Nicole asked, nudging her gently.

  “Don’t you dare,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.

  “You’ll be home, Fi,” Nicole said again, stronger this time. “Telling stories about our adventure to all your friends.”

  “Pfft.” Fiona dropped her head against Nicole’s shoulder. “Celebrating alone.”

  “I may fight you on that part.”

  “I’ll win.” She sucked in a breath as a particularly vicious bolt of pain radiated through her.

  Nicole held on to her as the night wore on. Fiona didn’t feel herself shaking until her knees started knocking together. At some point, Nicole fell asleep, slumped against her. The steady rhythm of her breathing was soothing. Fiona wanted to close her eyes and sleep for a million years, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.

  It hurt and burned and shook until she was ready to scream in frustration. Her fingers clenched around the edge of the pavilion, her head bowed in exhaustion. Sweat ran like a river down her back, puddling in the fabric of her skirt.

  When she lifted her head, a glimmer of light caught her eye. Not their campfire, still flickering on the beach. Not the stars or the moon. This was brighter, a cluster of lights in the darkened expanse of the sea.

  A boat.

  It had to be a boat. Or was she hallucinating? She might be hallucinating. She blinked hard, staring into the enveloping blackness of the night. The lights swam before her eyes, fading in and out, and she had no idea whether they were real or a product of her fevered state.

  “Nicole,” she whispered, nudging her awake.

  Nicole lurched upright, nearly tumbling off the edge of the pavilion. Fiona wrapped a hand around her biceps, anchoring them against each other. “Mm,” Nicole mumbled. “You okay?”

  “Look,” she said by way of an answer. If the boat was real, Nicole would see it.

  Nicole was silent for a long moment, so long that Fiona decided there was nothing to see after all. Nicole was squinting into the darkness and wondering what the hell she was supposed to be looking at.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered finally, her hand clamping around Fiona’s. “It’s a boat, and it looks big…and close.”

  Then they were both up and running, scrambling through the scrubby terrain to the bag on the beach where they’d left their supplies. Nicole clicked on the flashlight and rummaged around, coming up with their last remaining flare.

  Fiona’s toes dug into the sand as her vision tunneled and her knees turned to water. She gripped Nicole to keep herself upright. Nicole held on to her with one hand while with the other, she lifted the flare overhead and fired.

  10

  Nicole would remember the next few hours as a dizzying blur punctuated by brief flashes of clarity. The moment the boat had definitively turned toward them. The initial shouts of the fishermen as they approached the shore. The horrifying moment when Fiona fell to the sand, eyes rolling back in her head.

  The fishermen took them swiftly onto their boat—a Greek fishing vessel, as it turned out—and headed immediately for the mainland. They
settled Fiona into one of their bunks, plying them both with food and water, although Nicole was too worried to eat, and Fiona was too sick. She seemed somewhat revived by their rescue, though, and conversed briefly with the fishermen in their own language.

  “You speak Greek?” Nicole asked once they’d been left alone. The sleeping compartment was cramped and smelled strongly of fish. She wished she’d thought to grab her clothes before they left the island, but here she was, on a boat full of men, wearing only a few scraps of red fabric. Fiona at least had a sheet thrown over her.

  “A little,” she answered with a wan smile. “I understand it better than I speak it. My, ah, friend is Greek.”

  “The one who stood you up?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck it. Nicole stood and grabbed a sheet off one of the other bunks, wrapping it around herself so she didn’t flash the next person to enter the room.

  “He said the authorities boarded the Cyprus Star yesterday. They rescued the remaining hostages, although many had been killed.”

  Nicole inhaled roughly. “Oh my God.”

  “I know.” Fiona closed her eyes and swallowed, hard. “It smells awful in here.”

  “It does.” Nicole laughed in spite of herself. “Please don’t puke in their bunk.”

  “Trying not to.” Fiona took several long, deep breaths, pain etched into the deep creases in her brow. “He said an alert went out yesterday to be on the lookout for us. They had already pulled closer to the island because of our fire. When they saw the flare, they knew they’d found us.”

  “Wow.” Nicole blew out a breath as emotion rolled over her in a tidal wave. People had died onboard the Cyprus Star. If not for sheer luck and Fiona’s quick thinking, she and Fiona might have been among them. Instead, they were safe. They were going home. Fiona would surely be okay now that they were on their way to the hospital, although the fear knotting Nicole’s gut wouldn’t ease until they got there and a doctor told her it was true.

  She slid out of her chair and knelt on the floor beside Fiona. Nicole wrapped her arms around her and wept. Fiona was still, silent, but when her eyes met Nicole’s, her face was streaked with tears.

  FIONA LINGERED SOMEWHERE between pain and relief and the fear that none of this was actually happening. It was all an elaborate fever dream, and she’d jerk awake at any moment to find herself back on the island with Nicole. Not that sleeping with Nicole beneath the stars was a hardship…

  Her eyes snapped open, and she lurched upright, chest heaving, body soaked in sweat.

  “Shh,” Nicole murmured from beside her. “It was just a dream.”

  “What?” Panic raced through her, flooding her body with adrenaline. A dream? No. As her eyes blinked into focus, she saw the green gown on her body, heard the beeping of medical equipment, smelled the antiseptic scent of a hospital.

  “We’re safe,” Nicole said, one arm wrapped around Fiona’s stomach. “You had a bad dream, but we’re safe.”

  “Safe,” she repeated, slumping back against the sheets.

  “Mm-hmm.” Nicole nuzzled her neck. “Remember the fishing boat? The stinky bunkroom?”

  Fiona smiled. “Yeah.”

  And now that her brain had caught up to speed, she remembered arriving at the hospital too. They’d cleaned and flushed her wound, bandaged it, and hooked her up to an IV full of antibiotics.

  “How do you feel?” Nicole asked.

  “Better.” She rolled cautiously onto her side, careful not to disturb the tube in her arm. “I think they gave me some good drugs. How long was I asleep?”

  “A few hours, I think. I slept too.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Nicole made a noise of disbelief. “Where else would I be?”

  “Are you hurt?” She raised her head and peered at Nicole. She wore an oversized blue T-shirt, black leggings, and an incredulous smile.

  “I’m perfectly fine, and I’m not leaving your side.”

  “Stop it.” Fiona turned her face toward the pillow in a pathetic attempt to hide the tears on her face and the catch in her voice.

  “You stop it,” Nicole countered, drawing Fiona’s head against her chest. “You scared the shit out of me last night—this morning—whatever time it was when we were rescued. I swear to God, your face was so pale, you turned green, and then you collapsed in the sand…”

  “Well, I’m feeling much better now,” Fiona said, forcing some strength into her voice.

  “Amazing what a few hours of antibiotics will do, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Fiona pushed herself up to a sitting position and reached for the pitcher of water on a tray beside her bed. Her throat was so dry, it felt scorched.

  Nicole reached past her and poured her a glass, which was probably for the best because Fiona’s hands shook violently when she lifted the cup toward her mouth. Nicole steadied it for her. “You were dehydrated,” she said.

  Fiona drained the glass. “Not anymore.”

  “I should have made you drink more water when your fever spiked. Everyone knows—”

  Fiona silenced her with a kiss. “Don’t do that. You took great care of me, even when I was a total pain in the ass.”

  Nicole grinned at her. “You were never a pain in the ass.”

  “I’m always a pain in the ass.”

  “Is there anything else you need? What can I get you?”

  Fiona looked at the IV stand beside her bed. “Can I walk with this thing?”

  “Yes. You were pretty out of it earlier, so they showed me instead.” Nicole slid out of bed and walked to the stand. She lifted the IV bag from the pole attached to the bed to the portable stand, then pushed a lever at the base and rolled it back and forth. “Okay. I think you’re good to go.”

  “Thank you.” Fiona took the hand she offered and stood on shaky legs. Feeling like an eighty-year-old woman, she shuffled toward the bathroom. A draft of air drifted across her backside. Fucking hospital gowns. “I know you’re staring at my ass,” she called over her shoulder as she pushed the IV stand into the bathroom.

  “News flash. I’ve been staring at your ass for the better part of a week now,” Nicole shot back.

  Fiona managed to get in and out of the bathroom without further incident, holding in a groan as she climbed back into bed. She felt a hundred times better than she had last night on the island, but her whole body still hurt all the way to her bones. “Who do I see about getting out of here?”

  “Three days of IV antibiotics. That’s what they said,” Nicole told her gravely.

  Fiona felt her jaw jutting automatically in defiance. She desperately needed to get out of here, to go somewhere quiet where she could recuperate in peace. “Three days?”

  Nicole gave her a sympathetic look. “It sucks, but you’re still sick.”

  “I’d feel so much better if I could go home,” she muttered, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone. Three days in the hospital sounded like an eternity. On the island, she’d been able to find peace and quiet when she needed it. Here, she’d have nothing but beeping machines, open-backed gowns, and nurses fussing over her.

  “At least you get a real bed to sleep in tonight, even if it’s a hospital bed.”

  “Mm.” She rolled toward Nicole, wrapping an arm around her. “And where will you be sleeping tonight?”

  “Right here with you.”

  “You don’t have to, you know. You should go to a hotel, take a long bath, live it up.”

  “I’ve already used your shower, and the hospital staff hooked me up with some clothes that…well, I’m not sure if I want to know where they came from, but they’re clean. I guess they’re bringing our suitcases to us.” Nicole’s brow furrowed. “The police want to talk to us, and apparently, the press is camped outside, hoping to interview us. Oh, and my parents are on their way.”

  Fiona stiffened. “Your parents?”

  “They flew to Italy when they found out the Cyprus Star had been hijacked, and they’re on th
eir way here to Greece now.”

  Fiona’s stomach soured. “You’ll go when they get here, then?”

  “I told them to come here.”

  “To my hospital room?” Fiona’s voice had risen to a pitch she didn’t even recognize.

  “To the hospital, yes. They’re very nice. They want to meet you.” Nicole paused, her expression heartbreakingly earnest. “You’ll like them.”

  I don’t like anyone, Fiona wanted to say. “What did you tell them?” she said instead.

  Nicole ducked her head. “About us? Nothing really. I mean, they’re Italian, so they both talk a lot, and they were so worried…I hardly got a word in edgewise.”

  Fiona turned away as tension snaked through her body. “I’d rather be alone. You should go with them when they get here.”

  Nicole’s hand found hers under the sheet. “How many times do I have to say I’m not leaving you before it sinks into your stubborn head?”

  She turned her gaze toward the window, jaw set, skin prickling.

  “I didn’t think I should say anything about our relationship to anyone just yet,” Nicole said softly, mistaking the cause of Fiona’s discomfort. “I mean, I thought we should figure it out together first.”

  “I’ve already told you what’s going to happen.” Fiona’s voice had gone hoarse, and she reached over to pour herself another glass of water, relieved to find her hands steadier now.

  “When you get out of the hospital, we’ll go to the hotel…together, and we’ll talk about it then. Until then, you’re stuck with me.” Nicole tugged at her hand, and Fiona turned toward her. “As long as you don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind,” Fiona whispered, defenses crumbling beneath Nicole’s warm eyes and soft heart, the heat of her fingers and the strength of her embrace. Fiona settled onto the sheet beside her, bringing her lips to Nicole’s.