1049 Club

by Kim Pritekel

  Michael, Pam and Denny stood back, watching half their family board the small plane, Garrison giving them one last thumbs up before the powerful engine and propellers rocked the stillness of the day.

  Denny could see Rachel sitting next to a window, the blonde’s face pressed to the glass, eyes on her. Denny raised a hand, which she saw the author do the same.

  PART 12

  DARK BROWS KNIT, Keller pushed the button for the option to listen to the message again. She held the small phone to her ear, holding up a hand to forestall whatever Parker was about to tell her so she could try and concentrate again on the hysterical message.

  "Keller! Get you and Parker down here ASAP!" Sob. "WefoundDeanandfiveothers,ohmygod,Keller,wefoundhim!" Sob.

  The tall pilot stood there, mouth slack-jawed as it registered what the blonde had said. Turning stunned eyes to an expectant Parker, she swallowed. "Go pack a bag for Florida, Parker." The teenager ran back up the stairs, their Beagle, Tut attempting to run after her, but his arthritis causing him to follow at a limping pace, though his bark was still worse than his bite ever was.

  Keller walked over to a kitchen chair, falling into it, stunned, and still not entirely sure she'd understood. Shaking herself out of her daze, she quickly dialed the familiar number to Garrison's cell phone. It was picked up after half a ring.

  "Keller?! Oh, thank god," the blonde ran a hand through her hair, her eyes so sore from all the crying she'd done. "Oh, baby, we did it. Oh, Keller..."

  "Whoa, whoa, honey, what's going on?" The brunette stood from her chair, realizing that she, too needed to pack a bag. She headed up to her and Garrison's bedroom.

  "We found six survivors on an island, Keller! And Dean was one of them."

  Keller faltered at the top of the stairs, nearly landing face first on the landing. "What?"

  Sob. "Yes. Mia Vinzetti, Rachel friggin' Holt! Oh, god, Keller. Please hurry. I need you here."

  "I'm coming, baby. Parker's packing a bag now, and I'm on my way to." The brunette pushed through the door into their room, looking around frantically for an overnight bag, holding the cell to her ear with her shoulder.

  "Thank you, Keller."

  Dark brows drew. "For what?"

  "For having faith, and wanting to make one more run. All those people would have been stuck there for God only knows how long."

  "I can't believe so many survived. Nine people! That's unheard of!"

  "I know."

  "Where are you?"

  "We're at Duke's house. We could only take three, so we're heading back out in the morning."

  "Who all do you have?"

  Garrison was getting impatient. She needed to see Keller, and she needed to see her now. "Less talk, ore fly!"

  Keller chuckled. "I love you. See you in a few hours."

  * * *

  Rachel ran her hands over her face, wiping the water out of her eyes. She turned off the water flow, wishing she could stand underneath it all night, but she knew other people were in that house other than herself, Dean and Mia. Besides, she was surprised there was any hot water left after Dean's marathon shower. She was the last, the other two swathed in clothing from Duke and his family. The blonde's own borrowed sweats and tee shirt were folded on the toilet seat.

  Stepping out of the shower stall, the author blew out a breath, feeling utterly exhausted. It had been one of the craziest days since the day of the crash. The flight back to Florida had been long, though probably far shorter than it seemed. Rachel had looked out the windows, part of her terrified to be in the air, the other part amazed to feel padded seating again. She and the others had been shocked to find a large group waiting for them when they landed, employees and crew of the hangar and small, attached airport. They'd swarmed the plane, cheering and hollering as the three refugees disembarked. They'd been offered, food, drink, anything they desired. The first word out of all of their mouths was , "Shower!"

  Duke, his wife Eva and their three sons, were kind and generous, offering their home to the survivors, which had quickly become dubbed as the Island Six, until they could be shipped back to their own homes.

  Home. That was such a foreign and confusing word for Rachel, who truly had no idea where she wanted to go. Her world had completely turned upside down in the past year and two months. When looking in the mirror over the sink before stepping into the shower, Rachel hadn't recognized herself. Yes, her hair had grown out, her body hairier than it usually was, and she needed a serious eyebrow wax, but the changes had nothing to do with her physicality. It was all in her eyes. The blonde had to looked away from them, unable to look in their depths and see the altered soul within.

  How was it that she had discovered herself on that island, yet back on dry and, felt so incredibly lost? It was as though nothing made sense, nothing she had known for twenty-eight years seemed like the truth; her life was a lie.

  Rachel wrapped herself up in a fluffy towel, inhaling the fragrances that danced all around her nose in the steam-filled room: laundry soap, shampoo, steam-enhanced body soap. She nearly moaned in pleasure as she rubbed lotion onto newly-shaved legs, the smooth skin felt wonderful to her palms and fingers. Rachel almost felt overwhelmed by the luxuries all around her. Hell, just peeing in a real toilet had been the highlight of her day! And then, not even having to bury it in rock-infested dirt. Bliss.

  Passing her hand over the smooth, steam-opaque glass of the mirror, she studied herself, noting had thin she'd really gotten. She could almost hear Reenie chewing her out, all the while trying to fatten her up. Reenie. The author smiled, suddenly filled with a sense of giddiness. On the flight back to Florida, the pilot, Garrison, had explained what had been happening over the past year and some change, the 1049 Club that Reenie and Matt had established, and the committee, led by Will Ash, that was set up to try and find any survivors.

  She had been offered the use of Garrison's cell phone once she got out of the shower. The blonde felt a mixture of nervous energy and elation at the prospect. She couldn't wait to hear Reenie's voice again, and let her know she was okay.

  * * *

  Mia took a deep breath, grateful for the hair band Duke's daughter, Ivory, loaned her. Her hair had gotten long and unruly on the island, and it was bliss to have it out of her face. She closed her eyes as she took a huge bite of the cheeseburger, chewing with slow reverence, allowing all the flavors- ketchup, Mayonnaise, mustard and pickles- to burst in her mouth, along with the taste of the grilled meat and soft bun. What she had once taken for granted as Tuesday night dinner had become a delicacy of the richest variety.

  When the girl opened her eyes, she felt sheepish, as every pair of eyes at the table were on her. Dropping her gaze down to her plate, she tried not to make an absolute glutton of herself as she ran a French fry through the puddle of ketchup.

  Garrison was absolutely fascinated, watching both Dean and Mia dig into their dinners with no relish she'd seen before. That's not true; it reminded her of Parker when she was little, and the blonde pilot had introduced her to beloved chocolate milk. She smiled at the memory, realizing she was staring when she heard a throat clearing.

  "Sorry," she muttered, looking away from Dean's raised brow. "So, Dean, are you sure you don't want to call him?"

  "Positive." The attorney grinned, wiping his hands on a napkin. "I want to give Will the surprise of his life! Me!"

  "I think you're going to manage that just fine, my friend," Duke chuckled, chewing on the tender skin of a tomato slice. "Bound to give the poor guy a heart attack." Duke couldn't believe that he had been part of such an amazing, momentous event, and would have to thank Garrison all the rest of his days for giving him the opportunity. He couldn't wait to go get the other three the next morning. They planned to take off just after day break.

  "Isn't that the truth!" Mia grinned, gulping from her glass of milk, eyes closing once more at the wonderful cool smoothness.

  Garrison chuckled. "There's plenty where that came from, Mia. Don't make
yourself silk."

  "Do you have any idea what it's like to only have water and cocoanut milk to drink for an entire year?"

  "And the berry water Pam would make from time to time," Dean added.

  "True. With the food masher," the teen's eyes were filled with evil intent. Everyone around the table, other than Dean, looked baffled at what was obviously a private joke between the survivors. Dean actually looked bashful as he turned his attention to his plate.

  "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, Sweets."

  Mia chuckled. She was about to ask the blonde pilot if she could used the promised phone when there was a loud knock at the door. Garrison jumped up, quickly following Duke's wife through the house. To her relief, Keller and Parker stood on the other side.

  "Oh, thank god!" She took the tall brunette in her arms, feeling like the craziness of the past few hours was finally set straight, and her world was back into focus.

  "Oh, Garrison," Keller said, her voice unusually deep. When she pulled back from the hug, her blue eyes filling. "We did it?"

  Garrison grinned, her own eyes watery. "We did it," she whispered.

  "Show me."

  * * *

  The sun was beginning to set, seeming like it should be sizzling into the ocean depths. It was beautiful, but Denny saw none of it. She sat on the ledge she'd shared with Rachel the night before, and the place where they'd had some of the best talks she'd had with anyone. It was the ledge where she'd gotten to know the blonde, to understand, and to love her.

  She raised a hand, surprised to feel moisture on her fingertip as it brushed under her eye. Looking at it, she rubbing it into her thumb, , then sighed. So they had been rescued, saved, brought forth from exile. How amazingly bitter sweet. Was she a monster to feel that way Should she be jumping up and down for joy, as Pam and Mia had been doing earlier on the beach? Should she be howling to the moon above, thankful to the Goddess of good luck and serendipity?

  She felt none of those things. All she felt was confusion, and desperately lonely. Off in the distance she could hear Michael and Pam laughing, singing ridiculous songs, and basically reveling in their soon-to-be freedom. Did she want it? Of course she did. She had to go back to her life, reestablish herself in the world of civilized society again, and all that came with it. She had no choice.

  Telling Rachel to get on that plane, to leave, had been one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do, but knew it had to be done. One of them had t be strong, and had to be practical. Denny damned her damn practical nature. Hannah. She had to focus on Hannah, and getting her life back with the researcher. What had Hannah done all this time? Denny knew her partner was a strong woman, but she also knew Hannah was extraordinarily sensitive, and couldn't even imagine how she had managed through her grief. Knowing Hannah, who didn't like to deal with things, she'd put all of the coffee shop owner's things in one of the spare bedrooms, closed the door, and hadn't been able to look in there since. Denny smiled at the thought, then she thought about the kind of pain Hannah had been put through, and all for nothing. Would Hannah be angry? Losing so much of herself in grieving for Denny, as Denny knew she would, or would she be so relieved it didn't matter? Had Hannah moved on?

  Denny rolled that thought around her brain, tasting the slight bitterness. How would she feel if Hannah had, indeed moved on? If she were dead, looking down at her partner, she knew she would want to see Hannah happy, and whatever it took to make her that way, Denny would be all for. But she wasn't dead. She was very much alive, and heading home.

  Rachel.

  Denny felt like such a hypocrite, daring to think she may possibly be hurt or angry if Hannah were dating someone else, when she, herself had fallen in love with another woman while away from Hannah. She had valiantly tried to fight it, stop anything from happening, knowing that if Hannah and her situation were swapped, the researcher would have done the same thing for her. She would have waited. Even still, Denny could control what her body did, almost, but there was just no way to stop the heart from following its own path. And, boy had it followed its own path! It had boarded that plane yesterday with Rachel Holt.

  Denny was so tired, her eyes burning almost as much as her heart ached. She wished she could just close her eyes and go back to her world before the crash, before the name Rachel Holt meant anything more than just a face and distant author.

  * * *

  Michael sat back, hands tucked behind his head, and a permanent smile plastered on his face. It hadn't left since he'd spotted the plane earlier that day. Pam's was just as big, the vet laying in the sand across the small fire.

  "What's the first thing you're going to do?" Pam she asked, not taking her eyes from the constellations above, knowing this would be the last time she saw them so clearly.

  "That's easy," the Texan said, his voice soft and wistful. "Give my kids the biggest damn hug they ever had."

  Pam smiled at that, picturing it well. "Yeah. Me, too. My daughter, and my grandson."

  "Grandkids," he whistled through his teeth. "Can't even imagine, though my oldest boy could very well be a daddy by now. He's twenty-two."

  "Pam nodded. "Tracy became a mother younger than that." Pam sighed, happy and satisfied, though she had to admit, she was a little scared to rejoin the world. "Michael?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Do you think they forgot about us?" She glanced over, meeting Michael's eyes, reflecting the flames. "Our families?"

  "Nah," he said after some thought. "If'n they did, we'd never have been found."

  "I can't believe Dean's partner is behind all this." Pam felt more tears choking her, and did her level best to swallow them down. She hadn't cried as much in the past two years as she had in that one afternoon. "He must really love that little pain in the ass."

  Michael snorted. "Some love, indeed. Maybe them queers got the right idea," he said, thinking of will and Dean, Denny and Hannah. Hell, even Rachel, it seemed, the way she was always carrying on with Denny. After a heartbeat of silence, he and the older woman glanced at each other.

  "Nah."

  Pam chuckled, as did the Texan. They had never again talked about what happened between them, and it bothered some part of the veterinarian. She wanted Michael to know that she would never forget it, nor him. They had managed to comfort each other that day in a way no one else could. "Michael?"

  "Yeah?"

  "About what happened between us,"

  The mechanic was surprised Pam was bringing it up, but apparently she needed to talk, so he gave her his full attention. "Yeah,"

  "You and I have our own lives to return to, and you'll have a lot to deal with, the kids and their grief of losing their mother..." She studied his face for a moment, briefly glancing at the thick beard that hid his lips. "I just want you to know it meant something to me, and wasn't just some mindless fuck to a lonely old veterinarian."

  Michael heard what she said, and was surprisingly touched by them. Pushing himself up to his knees, he crawled around to her side of the fire, and pulled her up by the hand. Pam went into the hug, resting her head on his shoulder, relishing the last bit of closeness on the island. They said nothing more, sitting on the sand in each others arms, staring into the fire.

  * * *

  Reenie yelled from the kitchen, telling her guests that more martinis were on the way. Tossing an olive into her mouth, she chewed happily, shaking the last of the drinks, and pouring it into the waiting glass.

  "Hey, Reen?" Quinn said, sticking his head in through the swinging door.

  "Yeah?" the editor said absently, loading drinks onto the tray.

  "Your cell is ringing." He handed her the phone in question.

  "Thanks. Take these out, will you? I'll be out in a sec."

  "Sure." The copy editor grabbed the tray in steady hands, butting his way out of the large space. Reenie looked at the small window on the phone, lit and flashing a strange number. She didn't recognize it, and decided to rejoin her party, listening to her voicemail later. Tossi
ng the phone to the counter, she was about to push through the door of the kitchen, but then decided better of it. She had a new author she was working with, and thought it might be her.

  Snatching the phone back up, she flipped it open, putting it to her ear.

  "Hello?"

  There was silence on the other end, though it was obvious the line was open.

  "Hello?" Dark brows drew. Finally she heard someone take a breath.

  "I understand I owe a great debt of gratitude to you and Will Ash."

  Reenie's brows drew further, her heart skipping a beat. She knew the voice like she knew her own face, but... there was no way. "Who is this?"

  "Don't you recognize the voice of your favorite author anymore, Reenie? I haven't been gone that long."

  "Rachel?" the editor whispered the name, falling onto a nearby stool, her face paling, hand beginning to tremble as she tried to hold the tiny phone closer to her ear.

  "It's me, Reen. I'm alive. A little thin and have the best tan of my life, but I'm alive."

  The gasp that left Reenie's mouth was part whimper, part cry. "Oh my god. Oh my god. This can't be."

  "It is, Reen. I swear. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're having your end of month, Friday night martini party. Am I right?"

  "Oh, god, Rachel!" Reenie felt something explode in her chest, part shock, part profound relief, and all joy. She could heart her friend on the other line, tears in her own voice. "Where are you? How did this happen? Who found you? Where are you!?"

  "Whoa!" Rachel laughed, swiping at her eyes with her hand, amazed at just how relieved she was to hear such a familiar voice. For just a moment she felt normal again. She had to keep blowing her nose and wiping her eyes as she explained what happened, and where they had all been. Her friend interrupted often, filled with tons of questions, or just plain words of astonishment, Before Rachel could even finish her tale, Reenie interrupted her yet again.