by Kim Pritekel
Mia found it ironic, since she'd never been one for chocolate or sweets, but never in her life had anything tasted so good. She stuffed a square into her mouth, eyes squeezing shut as it melted against her tongue, taste exploding in her mouth. She eyed the rest of the big bar, but knew she couldn't eat it all. A place with no toilet paper wasn't one where she wanted to get sick.
Reluctantly setting the chocolate aside, Mia turned back to the bag. Checking the other zippered pockets, she was astonished to find a razor and... Dark brown eyes turned into saucers as Mia realized she was looking at another Ziploc baggie, and inside was the greatest treasure of all:
"Soap!" Mia tore down the beach, waving something in her hands. Dean and Denny looked over at the girl from where they worked on their giant S.O.S. bonfire stack.
"What the hell is she yelling about?" Dean asked, seeing the brunette shake her head as she stood from where she'd been kneeling, rearranging the wood.
"Look!" Mia was waving something enthusiastically over her head, and nearly fell over Dean in her excitement. He steadied her, now curious as all get out. "Look!" she said again, showing them the baggie.
"Oh," Dean sighed, falling to his knees. It was almost as if someone had just shown him the most beautiful of pieces of art, his hands flying to his mouth, eyes unable to leave the precious object the girl held in her palm. He leaned in, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of Irish Spring, a soap which he didn't even like, but at that moment it was the greatest thing in the world.
Denny, for her part, had visions of clean hair dancing in her head. She shook the thoughts out to get a clear head. "Where did you find this?" she asked Mia, stepping closer to the girl, eyes never leaving the bar of soap.
"Some luggage drifted to shore, over there," she pointed toward the smallest, and rockiest, of the three beaches.
"You're shitting me!" Mia shook her head at the brunette's exclamation. "Show me."
"While you're gone," Dean snatched the soap from Mia's hand, greed written all over his handsome face.
"I'll hold onto that," Denny growled, snatching the soap back. She knew full well they'd never see the soap again if Dean got hold of it. He followed grudgingly behind as Mia led the small parade up the rock face and to her spot, where the two pieces of luggage still sat, awaiting discovery.
Denny fell to her knees, looking through the pile of clothing Mia had already removed from the smaller bag. She was mentally tallying what could be done with the material, no longer seeing it as clothing. Where they were, clothing wasn't much of a necessity, other than the proverbial fig leaf. In the past week the rest of the crew had started to follow her lead, losing various articles of clothing, walking around only the bare essentials, the men bare chested, and the women in their bras or undershirts. Only Rachel kept her pants. Denny hated wearing only her underwear, so figured the large shirt would make a great sarong.
"Hey, look!" Dean exclaimed from his place at the larger of the two bags. He held up a very realistic cyberskin dildo, waving it proudly over his head.
Denny nearly fell over backwards at her surprise, then was overtaken by belly laughter, which did make her fall over when she saw the look on Mia's face. The girl's innocent and naïve nature made itself known as she first looked confused, then perplexed, then curious, then turned an amazing shade of red as realization dawned on her. Dean joined in the laughter as the girl hurried down the rocks, deeply embarrassed. After all, she was raised a good Catholic girl.
* * *
Rachel's eyes were narrowed in concentration, a slight wrinkle forming between her brows. Cursing softly, she glanced over at Pam, watching her fingers for a moment before turning back to her own project.
"How are you getting the weave so tight?" she finally asked, tired of redoing it. The veterinarian reached over, taking the author's piece from her.
"Watch."
Rachel paid close attention, again, as Pam used nimble fingers to weave the long, strong blades of wild grass together, the hold tight in neat little green squares. Okay, I can do this. She took the bit back from the doctor, studying the intricate weave, and giving it another try.
"No. Rachel, it won't keep anything out if it's not tight enough." Pam Sloan was nearly getting exasperated with the blonde. Why wasn't she getting it? It wasn't that hard.
"Damn. I can't get this!" Rachel's own patience were running beyond thin. "I'm not stupid," she muttered, "I got an A in home economics."
Pam chuckled, feeling some of her own tension flow out with Rachel's rising frustration. She looked up to see Denny heading their way, a finger held to her lips. The coffee shop owner snuck up behind Rachel, a piece of chocolate held between her fingers. She leaned down, over the sitting blonde, bringing the treat close to the blonde's nose, but out of her sight.
Rachel's brows furrowed further at the smell, and she looked over at Pam, seeing a snicker on the older woman's face. Looking back over her own shoulder, Rachel saw Denny standing behind her with a grin on her face, the chocolate square extended toward the blonde. Rachel flew to her knees, facing the brunette and snatching the chocolate away.
"Where did this come from?" she asked, popping it into her mouth, eyes closing in pleasure.
"Mia found luggage. Come on, ladies. We've got a nice little treasure trove."
Rachel was on her feet in an instant- anything to get away from weaving the roof together! She followed Denny to the beach, where Dean and Mia were waiting, looking over what looked to be a garage sale.
"Does anyone know where Michael is?"
"Who cares," Dean muttered, fingering a pair of shorts he had his eye on.
"I'll find him," Pam offered, heading out into the wild.
Rachel plopped down into the sand, leaning back on her hands, legs crossed at the ankles. She studied those around her, noting their varied reactions to Mia's tremendous find. The blonde had wondered if anything would wash up, and was surprised it had taken so long. She glanced over at Denny, the brunette pulling her long hair back away from her neck and back. She looked hot, her cheeks flushed.
As green eyes scanned back over the items laid out before them, something caught her eye. Rachel slowly sat up, then got to her knees, crawling over to one of the bags. The burst of laughter was so quick, it startled Denny, who had been lost in her own world.
Using a sock, Rachel grabbed the dildo, holding it up to study it further. She eyed the attorney, and her green eyes began to twinkle.
"Dean, you really should put your toy away. After all, we do have minors here."
The red flushed on Dean's face was priceless, as well as Denny's bark of laughter. The attorney bounced back.
"I don't know, blondie, it looks more your size than mine."
Denny was astounded, a perma-grin on her face as her eyes went from one to the other.
"Hmm, I dunno," Rachel flicked the end of the dong, amused as it bounced back, setting off a new round of laughter. Mia had never had such a red face in all her life.
"What's going on?" Pam asked, stepping out of the jungle with Michael in tow. Rachel, feeling rather feisty for some reason, held up the toy.
"Dean has been enthralling us with tales of the sword."
Dean gasped, flying across the pile of stuff between he and Rachel, snatching the dildo out of the blonde's hands. "I have not!"
"Fuckin' queers," Michael muttered, walking over to stand between Mia and Rachel. He turned when someone cleared their throat, and he found himself toe to toe with Denny.
"Excuse me?"
He looked into her angry gaze, surprised and confused. His mouth opened then closed, then opened again. The brunette cut him off before he could say anything.
"I don't appreciate that, Michael."
"What? I was talking about Dean-"
"Yeah, well I'm a queer, too, so keep your mouth shut. Okay?" She stared up at him, unflinching, waiting for his response. His eyes widened, surprise and shame filling them. "We all have to live here together, so what say you we q
uit with the name calling?"
The Texan's head fell, dully chastised. No, he didn't like fairies, but he did like Denny, and respected her. He wasn't going to apologize for his views, so instead he gave the brunette submissive nod and turned and walked away, sitting off by himself.
Rachel had watched the entire thing, since it was less than three feet from her. She had been shocked at Michael's behavior, as well as Denny's revelation. Everyone was quiet, the air tense as no one was entirely sure what to do. The mirth from earlier was certainly gone. Dean merely sat silent, watching, waiting, almost holding his breath. He met Denny's gaze, a small smile of camaraderie curving his lips. She didn't return it, but nodded in acknowledgement.
"Okay," Pam said, clapping her hands together to try and clear the air. "What have we here?" She began to pick through the items found in the suitcase.
Denny sat back, watching as everyone talked over what to do with the most important items- soap, razor, brush found in the larger suitcase, as well as three toothbrushes and a single tube of Crest. The way everyone's eyes lit up at these items, the brunette knew it could be bad. Desperate situations were cause for desperate acts, and though everyone seemed to get along for the most part, those items were gold on the island, and would disappear.
Pam seemed to be reading Denny's mind. "Who gets to be in charge of all this stuff?" She looked from one person to the next, everyone else meeting her gaze then that of their neighbor.
"I suggest a vote," Rachel said softly, once again leaning casually back on her hands.
"Agreed," Pam nodded. "Rachel, who's your vote?"
The blonde chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, thinking about her choice. She had a name echoing in the back of her head, but looked at each individual person first, to make sure she didn't want to change her mind. Finally her gaze settled on the coffee shop owner. "I vote for Denny. She's proven trustworthy and she gets along with everyone here."
"I second that," Mia quietly chimed in.
"I think it should be me," Dean said. "I think the women would use it up, since they have longer hair. They have the motive to hold onto it."
"Thanks, Dean," Rachel tossed the dildo at the attorney, nearly hitting him in the head with it.
"Michael?" Pam asked, turning to the Texan, who was playing with the sand at his feet. He glanced up, meeting her gaze. "I'm fine with it being Denny. I don't want ya'll barkin' at my door for soap."
Denny looked around, shocked, and not sure if she wanted the responsibility, either.
"Okay. Denny it is."
Too late. All eyes on her, the brunette nodded reluctantly. "Okay."
Later, Denny sat up on one of the many rock ledges, looking over the ocean as she dried. She'd taken a bath with soap for the first time in two weeks, and had brushed teeth. She was a happy camper. For the most part. She knew it was silly to let Michael's comments get to her, but couldn't help it. She'd heard about his and Dean's near fight the week before, but just let it go. This time she'd heard Michael say it, and had seen the disdain in his eyes as he did so. She liked the Texan, even respected him, yet he obviously didn't feel the same.
"Tube of toothpaste for your thoughts," Rachel said softly, moving to sit beside the brunette. Denny glanced over at her, smiling before looking back out to sea.
"My thoughts aren't worth an entire tube. Maybe a squeeze."
"Are you okay?" the author asked, deciding to get to the core of the issue. She could tell Denny was bothered by something, and wondered if she might know what it was.
"It's pretty stupid, really. Not sure it's worth talking about."
"If it's worth making you upset over, then it's worth talking about." Rachel studied the taller woman's profile, noting the way the falling sun painted her features with the golden hues of sunset.
"What Michael said."
"Bothered you?" Denny nodded. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you were gay. I think everyone knew about Dean, but..."
"What, didn't realize I was a big, bad butch?" Denny smiled at Rachel's shy grin. The blonde shook her head and turned away. "Yeah, I don't exactly telegraph it, do I. Not now, anyway. You should have seen me when I was younger- spiked hair, torn clothes, the whole thing. Boots." She chuckled at the girl she used to be, the true rebel without a clue.
"Do you hear that kind of stuff a lot? Disparaging remarks and names?"
"Not to me personally anymore. But I hear them, and it hurts when I do." Denny was silent for a moment, deciding if she wanted to go any further. Rachel's quiet acceptance won her over, and she decided to talk it out fully. "When I was in my late teens, I was dating a guy I went to school with, and as I was going out with him, kissing him, whatever, I had my best friend in mind. I'd see her face, pretend it was her I was kissing, all that. Hell, sometimes I think it was the only thing that got me through the make-out sessions. I used to keep a diary, and wrote about her all the time." Denny's voice fell to almost a whisper. "I was so in love with her."
Rachel listened, glancing at the brunette from time to time, taking it all in.
"Then one day my brother was snooping, and read what I'd written in my diary. And I quote, 'I really, really, REALLY want to have sex with Casey'. He told my parents, and my dad beat me with the belt and kicked me out."
"Oh, Denny," Rachel breathed.
"I was in my room trying to recover from the beating when he walked in, a roll of trash bags in his hand. He slammed them down on my dresser top and simply said, get out." Denny could feel her eyes fill at the memory, even though it had been so long ago. Her heart had never healed from it. She blinked several times, trying to make the physical manifestation of her hurt go away. Rachel said nothing, but placed her warm palm against the warmer skin of Denny's back, rubbing soft circles. "He used to call me queer all the time."
"What about your mother?"
"She let him do it. All of it. After he said that to me, I marched into the kitchen where they were, him at the breakfast bar, her at the counter, starting to make coffee. Her back was to me, and I just ignored him. I told her that if she let him do this, she'd never hear from or see me again. She said nothing." Denny reached up, wiping gently at a tear that had fallen. "Not a damn word. I turned around, headed right back to my room and started packing."
"Where did you go?"
"I escaped to a friend's house for the weekend, then moved in with my grandmother until graduation. After that, I got my own place, and moved on." The smile Denny graced Rachel with was big and bright, and full of shit. The blonde could see right through it, and felt an overwhelming need to comfort her, and let her know that she was accepted.
"Come here."
Denny allowed herself to be taken in a warm hug, the feel of Rachel's skin against her own a balm against her sad, lonely soul. The situation was getting to her. At first it had almost been like an adventure, a vacation from reality. Now, as time was going by, it was dawning on her that it was no vacation that she could just check out of, and fly home. She was truly stuck, stranded. She couldn't return to her life, return to Hannah, her shop, nothing.
Rachel rested her head against Denny's shoulder, surprised she'd taken such initiative. Even so, she had to admit that though the hug was intended to comfort the brunette, she, herself found it comforting as well. Rachel felt lost in so many ways. Her life back home was in a state of upheaval; even if she returned to Oregon tomorrow, what would she return to? She couldn't return to her marriage and pretend that everything was okay. But then Rachel had the feeling that no matter what she went back to, no matter what state her personal life was in, after this experience, she'd never be the same. She was a changed woman on so many levels.
They sat like that for a long time, watching the sun go down and absorbing the simple pleasure of human comfort, affection, and mutual understanding.
* * *
Will glanced down at the directions again, looking for the exit that would take him to Warwick, Massachusetts. He found it, flicking the turn signal on the rented car, a
nd making his way through the sleepy, coastal town. He checked out the small, quaint houses and easy life of a Saturday afternoon.
Davies' Hangar should be just up ahead, and as Will took a left on Carlton Place, he saw a sign for it, as well as saw a low-flying airplane buzz by over head. He followed it as it crossed the general area, then took a sharp right into the hangar land. Pulling up beside an old pick up truck, Will breaked, then turned off the engine.
"Good morning," A redheaded woman with stylish glasses said cheerfully as Will stepped into the cool, air conditioned front office of the hangar. "Can I help you?"
"Will Ash. I have an appointment with Garrison Davies this morning."
"Ash, Ash," the woman muttered, clicking a few times on her computer mouse, absently pushing her glasses further up onto her nose.
"Hey, Penny, is my ten o'clock here, yet?" a woman's voice asked, heading over to the coffee machine near the redhead's desk. The blonde woman, dressed casually in old, worn jeans and a tee shirt, poured herself a cup, nearly burning her mouth on it when she noticed the good looking man talking to the secretary.
"Yeah, that's him," said the feisty redhead, smirking at the rolled green eyes of her employer and long-time friend. She decided to keep her usual flirting to a minimum with the suit standing in front of her.
"Will Ash," he said, taking the few steps to the pilot, hand held out.
"Garrison Davies. Care for some coffee, Mr. Ash?"
"Uh, no, thank you."
"Okey doke. Follow me."
Will followed the petit woman down a long, narrow hall, solid wall to the right, large windows looking out into an all-cement hangar to the right. A couple small planes were in the large space, as well as a few men hurrying around and barking orders and laughter at each other.