by Kim Pritekel
Everyone gathered what mattered to them, which boiled down to their soap, and the few scraps of clothing they had left. The few tools they’d made from stones and ticks were also gathered, taken to the nook behind the waterfall to wait out the storm. It didn’t take long for the island to be overtaken by severe winds and rains, the day turning cold and nearly impossible to see through the deluge. The skies opened up with a roar of thunder. As everyone settled in to ride out the storm, Michael spoke.
“Do y’all think we’ll get off here?” He met every gaze with mild curiosity. Pam sighed heavily.
“I sure hope so. My grandson is bound to be about two feet taller than when I saw him last.” This earned a round of chuckles.
“What do y’all say about making a boat again?”
“To fish with?” Dean asked, having a sinking feeling that wasn’t what the Texan had in mind.
“No. A boat to load us all up on, with water and food, and get out of here. Find civilization somewheres.” Again, he studied everyone in turn. Anyone agree?”
“Are you suggesting leaving the safety of the island for the unknown of the middle of the Caribbean?” Pam asked, brows raised in surprise, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m sayin’ that I don’t want to stay here forever, Pam. What if one of us got sick? Or something else?” he eyed the veterinarian, the question hanging in the air between them.
“Sick, yes, other, no.” Pam answered him with a slight shake of her head. The relief was palpable.
“Either way, we gotta get outta here. Who’s with me?” He was surprised by the silence that met him. “Come on, guys! Do you really wanna rot here?”
“We could still be rescued,” Dean said, though his voice was quiet, almost shy.
“Do you really think that, Dean? Can you honestly look me in the eye,” the Texan pointed at his own face, “and tell me y’all think some big boat is gonna float on up to the shore tomorrow and bam!” he clapped his hands, startling everyone. “Saved!”
“Don’t be an asshole, Michael,” Pam said, her voice a low growl. “We can talk about this without the theatrics. I mean, isn’t Dean here the queen?” She raised a single brow, Michael grinning slightly at the chuckles from the group. His smile quickly disappeared at the seriousness of the situation.
“We’ve got to be thinking, folks. If’n y’all wanna stay here, then stay. But I wanna start thinking outside this damn island. I wanna go home.”
“I’m with you, Michael,” Mia said, nodding with conviction. She turned hopeful eyes to Denny and Rachel. Rachel met her gaze, but said nothing.
“Why now, Michael?” Denny asked, bringing her legs up to wrap her arms around, resting her chin on her knees.
“I heard engines again the other day,” he said, looking bashful.
“What?!” Dean shot up from where he’d been lounging back against the wall. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Cause I didn’t want any of y’all to get upset.”
“Great!” Dean exploded. “We could have all looked for it, waved it down, something.”
“Dean, stop it,” Pam growled, glaring at him. She turned back to the Texan. “What’s your plan, Michael?”
“Well, as I see it, they gotta have a base around here somewheres, in order to be out here. I figure we got a shot to find them.”
“I don’t know if it’s wise, Michael. We don’t have anything to keep water in. The only way to get fish to keep is to salt it, and that would make the thirst worse. I just don’t know if it’s practical.”
Michael sighed, crossing large arms over his chest. He was irritated, thinking that more than Mia would stand behind him on this. He really thought everyone would be willing to leave the island, and didn’t want to admit they were right. He was still determined. “I still think we should build a boat.”
“Okay, how about this,” Denny said, tucking her legs under her and leaning forward to be heard over the increasing sound of the storm. “let’s compromise. If there is still no one here by, what,” she looked to the others, “say end of year? We start considering our options.”
“By end of summer,” he countered. The women and Dean exchanged looks.
“Okay. End of summer.”
* * *
“I’m glad that storm’s over.”
Rachel glanced over, watching as Denny climbed up on her ledge. The blonde nodded. “Me, too. It didn’t seem to do as much damage, either.”
“Yeah. We’ll have to make some repairs to the shelter tomorrow, but other than that…” The coffee shop owner settled in next to the author, sighing as she leaned back on her hands, looking out over the sunset.
“I’m not sure if Michael did more damage or more good with his outburst tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because now he’s got everyone thinking.”
“Including you?” Denny asked, tucking her chin into her shoulder to look at the other woman, who sat cross-legged.
“Yeah. I guess including me. I don’t know.” Rachel picked at some loose vegetation that had been swept onto the ledge during the storm. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Matt over the past months, and I think it’s best I let him go, once I get back. Let him find a woman who can be what he needs to be.”
“And what about you?” Denny had no idea why she asked that question, as when she got back, if she got back, she would have to attempt to reclaim her life with Hannah, and get back into the swing of things with DiRisio’s. She would have no room in her life for questions concerning Rachel Holt.
“What about me. Good question, Denny.” Rachel mirrored the brunette’s position, basking in the coolness of the night. It was humid and the air was heavy after the rain, but the breeze coming in off the ocean was cool and refreshing. The day time temperatures were definitely getting hotter and hotter. “I guess rebuild my career, decide where I want to go.”
“Will you stay in Oregon?”
“I honestly don’t know. I know my best friend, Reenie, has been trying to get me to move to New York forever, but,” she shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know if I want to do that. I’m just not made for the big city.” She glanced over at Denny. “You’d go back to Buffalo.” A statement. Denny nodded.
“Yeah. I would.”
“You know, I wish I could have met you back home, me on some trip to New York to deal with my publisher, or something.”
Denny smiled. “Yeah. You walked into DiRisio’s, and I fell all over myself, unsure what the hell to do with a celebrity in my humble coffee shop.”
Rachel chuckled. “I’m hardly a celebrity, Denny.” Rachel felt slightly embarrassed, having been able to forget about that unwelcome part of her life while on the island. No one knew who she was, other than Rachel, a fellow member of the island family.
“Bullshit! You graced more covers of People magazine than Julia Roberts.” Denny liked the blush that covered the blonde’s face. She found it adorable. “No, I would have been honored to make a caramel macchiato for the great Rachel Holt.”
“I’m just me, Denny. Nothing special.”
“That’s not true, Rachel,” the brunette’s voice was soft, like a whisper on a breeze. Denny met the blonde’s gaze and almost got lost in it. Clearing her throat and looking out toward the ocean again, she continued. “You know, I was sitting next to Mia and her mom on the plane.”
“You’re kidding?” Rachel felt her heart break all over again for the sweet girl that they’d all fallen in love with.
Denny shook her head. Ironically enough, we were talking about you during the flight.” Again she met the author’s gaze. “Gloria was a huge fan of yours.”
Rachel had to look away, suddenly emotion rising to sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she felt, knowing that Gloria was now dead, and Mia had no idea who the blonde was.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry, Rachel. I’m sorry.” She reached over, touching the blonde’s shoulder.
“No, I don’t know w
hy that touched me so much. God, that poor girl.” The blonde took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She knew she was getting close to her week of fig leaves, and was overwhelmed by sudden fear and grief. What if she did make it back home? What did she have to go back to? She got herself under control, feeling silly and insecure. Swiping at her eyes, she took a deep breath.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d talk to her, you know,” Denny shrugged, “tell her. It might help for Mia to be able to talk about Gloria a little. She really hasn’t thus far.”
“Do you think that might be a little too much?”
Denny shrugged. “I don’t know. I really worry about her. She doesn’t talk about anyone else, other than her great grandparents in Milan. I don’t know if she has anyone back home.”
“Yeah,” Rachel agreed with a nod. “Mia doesn’t deserve this. But then again, I guess none of us do.” She looked at the brunette. “You should be back home with Hannah, cuddling in front of the TV or something.”
Denny sighed. The crazy thing was, in the fantasy the blonde spoke of, she only saw Rachel in it. “Why did all this happen, Rachel? They say things happen for a reason, what was the reason for all this?” she waved her hand, indicating them and the island around them. “Why did all those people have to die?”
“I don’t know. You want to know the crazy thing, though?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m so sorry for everyone who died, and for those left behind, including all of your families, but for me, I don’t know.” She sighed, falling back to lie prone, hands tucked behind her head. “I feel like this whole thing, as nutty as it all is, has been good for me. I don’t know, I feel like I’ve grown in some way, as a person.”
“If you stop growing, you die,” Denny said, her voice soft as darkness began to reign, that time of night when secrets seemed to be more safe, honesty abundant.
“That is true. I always thought that’s what happened to my parents. They were too afraid to grow, too afraid to discover what the world was really like outside religion and rigidity.” They fell into companionable silence for a moment, surrounded by the sounds of the island as the small wildlife began to return after the storm. “Denny?”
“Yeah?” The brunette could no longer see Rachel, but could feel the immense heat that radiated off her smaller body. Her own body responded.
“I probably shouldn’t say this, in light of what we’ve been talking about tonight, but,” Rachel paused, almost at a loss for words to convey what she needed to say. “I really loved kissing you. I don’t know, it, it just made me feel so…” her brow knit. An author who had no words. “It just made me feel.”
“You don’t get to feel very often, do you?”
“No.” Rachel’s response was like a whisper on the wind, filled with sadness and longing. “I know we shouldn’t have done that, Denny, I know you have Hannah back home, and I know you love her. But I wanted to say thank you for that. It was beautiful.”
“It was,” Denny nodded, wishing she could see Rachel’s eyes at that moment. She loved the blonde’s eyes, not just for the amazing color, but also to read them, to see exactly what she was feeling and thinking. But then again, if she could, that may be the end of her resolve. What resolve? The brunette reached a hand out, tentative so as not to frighten the blonde with the sudden touch, also to make sure she wasn’t going to accidentally grab something she shouldn’t be grabbing.
Rachel gasped slightly at the feel of warm fingers brushing across her cheek, not expecting the touch. She brought her own hand up, covering that hand and closing her eyes; the touch was pure bliss. She heard movement, then suddenly the side of her body was engulfed in Denny’s body heat as the brunette scooted beside her.
Denny couldn’t deny herself the feel of Rachel’s skin, the smoothness of her face, inhaling the fragrance that was all Rachel. “How do you always smell so good?” she whispered, the breath from her words making the blonde shiver.
“Hardly. I haven’t had a stick of deodorant in months.”
Denny smiled at that. “It must just be you, then.”
Rachel could tell the brunette was near, could feel her breath against the side of her neck, gently blowing her hair off her face. Her hand left Denny’s and followed the arm it was attached to until eventually she was touching a shoulder, then a neck, then her fingers curled around to the back of Denny’s head.
“Denny?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d really like it if you’d kiss me again.”
Denny said nothing, instead leaning in, intending to only drop a soft, brief kiss on full lips, but she was a fool to think she wouldn’t lose herself again. The hand at the back of her head moved to the back of her neck, squeezing slightly as Denny was pulled closer to the author, feeling the blonde’s right breast brush against her arm. At first the kiss was a simple touching of lips, softness brushing against softness, exploring.
“Denny,” Rachel whispered against the brunette’s lips, not asking nor telling, just stating. She felt the coffee shop owner lower herself slightly, their upper bodies almost making full contact. Rachel opened her mouth, inviting Denny inside, sighing at the feel of the brunette’s soft tongue caressing her own.
Denny pushed everything out of her head, only allowing herself to take in what she was feeling and tasting. Her brain threatened to pull the plug on her bliss by bringing up images of Hannah’s face, taunting her with the realization that she was having trouble remembering just how her partner tasted and felt, instead replacing those thoughts with how Rachel tasted, and how soft she was. Even as she pushed the part of herself down, the part who screamed traitor, she couldn’t help but be frightened by just how badly she wanted to make love to Rachel in that moment. How badly she wanted to show Rachel that she could feel a hell of a lot more than just a simple kiss.
Rachel’s head arched back instinctively as soft lips left her own and began to trail along her jaw line, Denny’s heavy breathing in her ear as a wet tongue flicked at her earlobe. That swipe made Rachel’s eyes shoot open, her fingers clutch Denny’s shoulders.
“Denny,” she whispered, half moan half plea for the brunette to listen to her. “Denny, baby, wait.”
“What?” As soon as the word was out of her mouth, Denny knew why Rachel had gotten her attention. Sighing with frustrated resignation, her forehead fell to Rachel’s shoulder, her body still thrumming, electrified by the woman beneath her. “God, this is torture.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to do something you’d regret. I’m sorry, Denny. I never should have said anything.” Rachel felt suddenly cold as Denny pushed herself to sit beside the blonde, scooting some to put a little distance between them.
“No,” the brunette said, scrubbing her face with her hands before running them through her hair. “I’m sorry. God, that was dumb.”
Denny’s taste still fresh on her tongue, Rachel took a deep breath. “Maybe we should get some sleep.”
“You go ahead. I’ll be in later.” With that, Denny climbed down the rocks, disappearing into the inky darkness.
* * *
“Keller, calm down.”
“Calm down? Why the hell should I calm down?” the pilot did feel herself calming down, however. She stopped pacing, looking to her partner, who was already in bed, sitting up against the headboard, sheet tucked at her waist. “Why the hell would he give up? I don’t understand this.”
“Because we haven’t found anything in a year, Keller. What do you expect the poor man to do? We’ve given him the best discount we can, but it’s still expensive. Plus, to be honest, I think Will’s dying inside. He’s a sensitive guy, and I don’t think he can take any more.” Garrison’s voice remained calm, matter-of-fact to try and keep her excitable partner calm. It was a trick she’d learned over the years. It usually had a calming affect on Keller.
“I just,” the tall pilot plopped down to the bed, stretching out on her side of the bed, facing Garrison. “My gut tells me to
keep going. I don’t know why, but it does.”
“You really think so?”
“I do.” Keller nodded to emphasize her point, reaching out to play with the hem of Garrison’s tank top. “I think we should make one more pass, just one last go of it. We only have one or two places left on the map, anyway.”
“True. I doubt Will would go for it,” the blonde warned, reaching out to smooth dark strands of hair out of Keller’s beautiful blue eyes.
“So then let’s just do it, Garrison. We can afford this one trip, on us, just to make sure. It would make me feel a hell of a lot better.” She studied her partner’s eyes, knowing that ultimately it was Garrison’s decision. She handled all the financial stuff of their business. The blonde nodded.
“We can.”
“So let’s do it, baby,” she scrambled up to straddle Garrison’s legs, caressing the side of her face with calloused fingertips. “Just one last flight to ease my gut.”
“Or I could just get you a nice shot of Pepto Bismol.” Garrison grinned, kissing the fingers the grazed over her lips.
“Cute.”
“We’ve got summer rushes, baby. How are we going to find time to do this?”
“I don’t know. It may not happen tomorrow, but some time soon, within the next couple months, I really want to do this.”
Garrison looked into Keller’s eyes, and she saw the truth in her words. She really believed in this, and Keller wasn’t one to be frivolous. Finally she nodded. “Okay. We’ll do it for Will.”
Keller grinned, that adorable lopsided grin that made Garrison’s heart melt, even after more than ten years together. “Yeah. We’ll do it for Will.”
“I love you.”
“Nuh uh. I love you, more.”
PART 11
MICHAEL COULD FEEL the sweat dripping down his temples, and used the back of his arm to wipe it away before it stung his eyes. He looked over what he had achieved already. Five logs or major branches had already been drug from the jungle, laid out upon the beach for examination by the Texan. He had a visual in his head of what he thought would make the raft stay together this time, and was bound and determined to make it work.