Stranded with the Quarterback

by Elana Johnson

  “We can’t do the water until the sun’s up anyway.”

  “Right.” She finally looked at him, and Maine grinned at her, completely unembarrassed about the kiss in the tree house.

  “So that.” He cleared his throat. “That was okay?”

  “That, meaning you kissed me?”

  “I think you kissed me,” he said, a smile shining through his whole soul now.

  Orchid’s blue eyes seemed full of fire as she finally smiled too. “Yeah, that was okay.”

  “Just okay?” he asked, a bit self-conscious. “I maybe haven’t kissed a woman in a while.”

  She stepped up to him, balanced on her toes, and held onto his shoulders. “It was great, Maine.” She kissed him again, and he vowed the next time they kissed, he was going to initiate it. “Now, let’s go make sure we don’t die today. I have a daughter to get home to.”

  She picked up the backpack while Maine grabbed the tarp. “Tell me about her,” he said as they set out. “Your daughter.”

  “She loves to paint and draw,” Orchid said, her voice a little tense. But Maine wasn’t sure, as the grasses were rustling with their footsteps, and Orchid was in front of him. “She loves going on grandpa dates with my dad and Henry’s dad. She loves the beach and seashells.”

  “My nephew is into creepy crawly things,” Maine said. “Spiders, snakes, bugs. My sister says it drives her nuts.”

  Orchid laughed. “I bet it does. Tesla wants a puppy, but we’re not home enough.”

  Maine wanted her to be able to stay home, do whatever she wanted. He’d buy them both a dog and wave to them on camera when he traveled for games. He kept all these thoughts inside, and as they reached the garden, he said, “Favorite game. I’ll go first. Favorite food: bacon cheeseburger.”

  Orchid looked at him, her eyes wide. “I don’t know how to play this game.”

  Maine got to work spreading the tarp out beside the edge of the garden. “It’s easy. I started with favorite food. I named mine. Now you have to name yours. Then you pick the next favorite. Say it, and I share mine. We go until one of us names a favorite and the other one doesn’t have one.”

  “So there’s a winner.”

  Maine looked at her. “Not really. I mean, if you want there to be a winner.” Maybe she did. From her show in the Battle of the Sexes, he’d learned she was competitive.

  “I don’t need there to be a winner.” She bent and yanked on a fistful of leaves. “Onion rings.”

  “That’s your favorite food?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Are there wrong answers?”

  “No,” he said with a chuckle. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know,” he said as he started pulling up greenery in the garden. “Sushi, maybe. Or fish tacos. You grew up on the island.”

  “I don’t even like fish.”

  “How very un-Hawaiian of you,” he teased. “Seems like most people I’ve met who’ve lived on the island for a while are fish freaks.”

  “My mom would be one of them,” Orchid said. “I guess salmon is all right. But I’m not crazy about fish.”

  “So onion rings,” he said, pulling up a good haul of potatoes. He shook the dirt off and tossed them onto the tarp. “You get to name the next favorite.”

  “TV show,” she said. “Chopped.”

  “I don’t even know what that is,” he said.

  “It’s a cooking show,” she said. “They compete with unknown ingredients.”

  “Wonder how they’d do out here.”

  She laughed as she put two carrots on the tarp. “They’d probaby all have a fire built in under five minutes.”

  Apprehension moved through Maine. “Do you think we need a fire?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Maybe the smoke would help the rescue ship find us.”

  “Maybe.” She paused and looked out toward the ocean. The water was black still, without the shining light of the sun, and Maine felt the ominous way it constantly pounded against the shore as he watched it.

  “Something to think about,” he said. “You had a fire-starting kit in the backpack.”

  “Maybe we should start a fire this afternoon,” she said. “After we get food and explore the island to see if there’s water. We should probably boil it before drinking it anyway.”

  She had a good point, and Maine felt the weight of the day ahead.

  “Your turn,” she said, pulling him back to this lighter moment. “Favorite TV show.”

  Chapter Nine

  Orchid enjoyed the favorite game with Maine, as it kept her mind busy with something carefree while she worked. They pulled as many vegetables and picked as much fruit as they could carry, finally returning to the tree house and Tanner after a couple of hours.

  He was awake and standing up in the shelter. He had good color, and Orchid offered him a drink from their last water bottle. He took it and said, “Thank you guys so much. I’m going to try to help today.”

  “Nope,” Orchid said as she spread the tarp out near the back of the shelter, to the right of where she and Maine had slept the night before. The hole Tanner had made when he’d fallen through the floor was still several feet away, and everything seemed stable. “Not happening. Maine is going to set the solar filtration system as soon as we get the food up here. You can babysit that while we explore the island for a spring or a river or something.”

  She didn’t allow a single ounce of desperation to enter her mind, though it pressed against the barrier she kept there. She had to be strong out here. Tesla needed her back in Getaway Bay, and Orchid would get back to her.

  Having a dreamy man to kiss helped too, but something niggled in the back of Orchid’s mind. He was a professional football player. Sure, he liked cheeseburgers and watching the sun set, but that didn’t make him normal.

  Or permanent, her mind whispered, playing devil’s advocate to the chirpy, happy angel on the other shoulder that was just thrilled Orchid had finally branched out and gotten herself a boyfriend.

  And Orchid had no plans to leave Getaway Bay or the support system she currently had. Not only that, Tesla deserved a father who was going to be in the picture more than every other weekend.

  This new burden sat heavily on her shoulders, but she hadn’t dared give it much room in her mind. She hadn’t asked Maine about his travel schedule or his long-term plans for his career. Maybe he’s ready to retire, she told herself, getting that devilish voice to shut up.

  Maine kept passing up carrots and potatoes by the bucket full. She dumped them on the tarp and passed it back, taking the bowl he’d piled bananas into. Their system worked great, and she was glad she was in the tree house this time, instead of going up and down the ladder, even if it was only a few rungs.

  Maine was taller than her, so he only had to take two steps up for her to reach the bucket, and they got the food loaded into the tree house pretty quickly.

  “Tanner’s going to come down,” Orchid said, nodding at him. He moved like a ninety-year-old man, but he made it back to the ground.

  “I’ll go set this up,” Maine said, jogging away with the solar desalination kit.

  “You just have to watch it,” Orchid said. “We don’t want it to get swept away or anything.”

  “Do you think there’s fresh water on the island somewhere?” Tanner asked, easing himself onto the overturned bucket, using it as a tiny chair for his huge frame.

  “Maybe,” Orchid said. “There are chickens and pigs here. They have to drink something.”

  He nodded, his eyebrows drawn down into a V as he watched Maine. “Where’d you get the vegetables?”

  “There’s a garden down the path a ways,” she said. “Tons of fruit trees too.”

  “We should try to trap a chicken,” he said.

  She couldn’t disagree, but she wanted water more than drumsticks. “We will, I think,” she said. “Depends on how things go today.”

>   He nodded again, and Maine finally came back up the beach, the little raft floating only a few feet out in the water. “I think I got it set up right.” He turned to look at it. “Says it takes a couple of hours, depending on the heat and strength of the sun.” He looked from Tanner to Orchid. “Should we go?”

  She picked up her pack, which had everything in it, and tried to look braver than she felt inside. “Yep, ready.”

  “Do you want the spear?” Maine asked Tanner, and he nodded again. Maine went up into the tree house to get it, and then he and Orchid set off into the trees. A sense of foreboding accompanied them, and Orchid didn’t like it.

  “He seems okay,” she said. “Quiet.”

  “Maybe his back hurts.”

  “Maybe.” She kept her eyes trained on the ground so she could step without tripping. She wasn’t exactly equipped with hiking boots and bug spray, and her skin prickled as the sound of clucking met her ears.

  “We’re close.” Maine slowed, and Orchid pressed right up into him. She glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t want one of the wild pigs to catch her unawares. He continued through the trees and undergrowth for several more paces, and then they emerged into a clearing.

  “Uh, Orchid?” His voice sounded unsure and filled with awe at the same time.

  Orchid moved the last step to stand beside him, taking in the scene before her. It legit looked like a farm from the distant past. There were fences with chicken wire and everything. Old troughs that didn’t have water anymore. The ground was well-worn, without vegetation, and she couldn’t count the number of chickens there were.

  “There’s probably fifty of them here,” she said, trying to count and getting confused as the chickens moved around. They ventured out into the grass on all sides, and some sat on nests they’d built themselves.

  “This is unbelievable,” Maine said. “How do they survive? Surely some die. Where are they?”

  Orchid didn’t want to think about it. She did want a fried egg, and she wondered if the nests had unfertilized eggs or not. At this point, these wild chickens probably didn’t lay eggs that didn’t hatch into chicks.

  She noticed that many of them were moving off to the left, and she pointed that way. “There’s a pretty prominent path over there. Maybe that’s where they go to get water.”

  Maine followed her gaze and nodded. “Let’s try it.”

  She was on that side, so she led them out this time, sticking close to the edge of the clearing to avoid the wild birds and their droppings. The smell here wasn’t something she wanted to spend a lot of time with, that was for sure.

  Most of the fences had fallen over time, but some still stood. The chickens seemed to know the paths through the clearing and out into the rest of the island, and Orchid started to appreciate their warblings as they moved around, pecking at the ground every so often.

  She joined the line of animals moving down the particular path she’d seen, and from the vantage point higher up on the hill, she could see movement for dozens of yards in front of her. “It’s not close,” she said.

  “Can’t be that far,” he said. “There are troughs here. A human would’ve had to carry the water for the chickens when they were domesticated.”

  He had a fair point, and Orchid edged to the side of the path, once again avoiding the chicken’s messy path. They didn’t seem to care if they walked through their own waste, but she did.

  Only a few minutes later, a new sound entered her ears. “Maine,” she said, excitement building inside her. “Do you hear that?”

  “No,” he said. “What is it?”

  “It’s water.” She started forward again, the distinct sound of water falling getting louder and louder.

  Finally, Maine said, “I hear it. It’s a waterfall.”

  “Yes.” Orchid nearly ran forward, toward an outcropping of rock that had lichen growing on it. She burst out of the grass to find the chickens grouped at a pool of water. Some of them waded into the water, and one or two swam around.

  “I didn’t know chickens could swim,” Maine said, and Orchid simply started laughing.

  “They can’t,” she said through her giggles. “They’ll sink eventually. They don’t have waterproof feathers like ducks.”

  “How do you know this stuff?” he asked, slipping his hand into hers.

  “Tesla did a science unit on birds once,” she said. “That was a fact she learned, and my daughter loves to talk. And talk. And share stuff.” She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her.

  “There’s water here,” he said as if she didn’t know.

  “I see that.”

  His grin grew, and he tugged her forward. They went around the pool where the chickens drank, and the waterfall came into view. It was glorious and wonderful, falling at least thirty feet from the bluffs above. The sound of it hitting the pool below was the best sound Orchid had ever heard.

  Maine started laughing and he waded into the pool, moving faster than her now. He released her hand and ducked under the falling water, slicking his hair back. He opened his mouth and tipped his head back before he came out sputtering.

  Smiling. Still laughing. “There’s water here.”

  Water that could save them. Save Tanner.

  Orchid took off her backpack and followed Maine into the waterfall. It was cool and refreshing, and she couldn’t help laughing too. This waterfall felt like their salvation, and they hadn’t even been out here that long. But it brought hope to her heart. They had much better conditions than Iris had, and her sister had survived.

  Of course, Maine wasn’t a Navy SEAL, but he didn’t need to be. They had water. A garden. Chickens and pigs they could try to catch and kill and eat.

  Her spirits soared, and she laughed and laughed.

  Maine wound his arms around her and pulled her out of the water slightly, toward the rocks behind them. “Orchid,” he said, his voice bright and serious at the same time. “I can’t wait to meet your daughter.”

  He leaned down and kissed her in a slow, passionate way that reminded Orchid of what it felt like to be adored. Cherished. Loved.

  All her worries about his residency status in Getaway Bay vanished. It was just her and him, kissing under the waterfall, and it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

  Hours later, her clothes still weren’t dry. She and Maine had made a few trips back to the waterfall, taking a different path than the one they took to the chicken meadow. The path was there, obviously used in the past once they saw it. Maine had actually spotted it from the tree house, and when he pointed it out to Orchid, she began to see all kinds of paths from the shelter.

  She wanted to explore them all, but water and food came first. They had plenty of both now, and she wished she could lie out in the sun and get dry. The humidity prevented that at the moment, though the sun was plenty bright and hot.

  She’d suggested they start a fire, thinking it would definitely help get their clothes dry as well as bake some potatoes and beets. She and Maine had set out to gather sticks and dry grasses, but both seemed to be in short supply.

  “We could burn the table,” she said, looking at the slab of wood on the ground near the tree trunk.

  “Yeah,” Maine said, still looking around like the supplies they needed would appear. “There’s stuff in the firestarting kit. I just want to make sure we have enough fuel to keep it going.”

  “But we don’t really need to do that,” Orchid said. “If it goes out, we can just light it again the next day. There are plenty of matches.”

  “Yeah,” Maine said again, and she wondered what he was thinking.

  She asked, and he met her eye. “I’m just worried about how long we’ll be out here.” He looked at his hands, and Orchid did too, noticing little nicks and scrapes. He obviously wasn’t used to picking vegetables and fruit or hauling buckets of water back to tree houses. She certainly wasn’t either, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and take a nap.

  “You don’t thi
nk we’ll have enough matches to keep lighting the fire each day.” She wasn’t asking.

  “Something like that.”

  “Let’s go pull apart the chicken fences,” she said. “Those posts were wood. That should give us enough fuel.” She touched his arm and looked up at him. “At least for today. I’m tired. I want to get a fire going. Get some food cooked. And rest. We have two matches, one for today and one for tomorrow. After that, we can keep the fire going.”

  Her exhaustion wasn’t just physical either, but mental too. Maine looked weary as well, and he finally nodded.

  “Okay. Let’s use the table for today. That should be enough to bake some potatoes.” He glanced around again. “I just wish there was more wood here.”

  “There are tons of trees,” she said.

  “Green ones,” he responded.

  “Green wood makes a lot of smoke,” she said. “Maybe that will help a ship find us.”

  He nodded again and took her into his arms. “I think we should try climbing up on those cliffs and building a fire up there.”

  The very idea made her want to sag to the ground and cry. “Another day,” she said, thinking maybe in two or three, they’d have enough fuel for a fire here but not one on top of the bluffs—which she didn’t know how to climb or how long it would take. Not to mention, they’d have to carry all the wood up there for a big bonfire.

  “Another day,” he agreed, and she stepped back, pulled out the fire-starting kit, and handed it to him.

  She shivered as a breeze made her wet clothes cold, and Maine noticed. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Did you ever play somewhere cold in your football career?”

  “I’ve played in the NFL for nine years,” he said. “Every team’s stadium. So yeah. New York is cold later in the season. So is Green Bay. Denver. Pittsburgh.” He shrugged. “It’s not my preference, but it’s usually not too terrible.”

  “I’ve seen games get canceled because of snow,” she said, wondering what that felt like. “I’ve lived in Hawaii my whole life. Never seen snow in person.”