Windswept Shores

by Janice Seagraves

  “What’s wrong, luv?”

  Megan sighed as she looked down at her plate. “There are alcoholics in my family. I don’t need to deal with another. Especially if you’re going to go through the DT’s when the beer runs out.”

  “No worries, luv. I’m not an alkie. I’ll be just fine without me ale.”

  “I sure hope so,” she muttered.

  “I’d been dry as a nun’s nasty when we found the Dinki-Di.”

  Megan frowned. “For only a couple of days.”

  “Right ya are.” He picked up his fork, getting plenty of pork meat and rice, and took a bite. “Mmm.” He grinned around his mouthful as he quickly chewed.

  Megan finally smiled back. “I’m glad you like it.”

  He swallowed then asked, “G’darn, luv, this isn’t a common American meal. How did you learn to make it so well?”

  “My son, Eli, had a girlfriend who was a foreign exchange student named Azhia. She’s originally from Indonesia. She’s a real sweet girl. We became friends, she taught me how to make curry.”

  “Indonesia is right next to Australia. I reckon there are a thousand islands that make up that country,” Seth told her.

  “Her parents’ worked in the ambassador's complex in Australia while she was a baby. English became the first language she learned to speak.”

  “Did she go back home?”

  “Yes, right after she graduated with Eli. She had just two more days, then she had to leave us.”

  “You miss her?”

  “I do.” She toyed with her fork. “I guess it’s silly to get attached to your son’s girlfriend, but I don’t have any daughters. But, in that short time, she felt like one to me.”

  “She sounds special.” Seth patted her hand.

  “Yes, I do so miss her.”

  Windswept Shores

  Chapter Nineteen: Visitors

  Megan woke to the predawn light coming though the small port windows. Something’s different. An electrical jolt shot through her when she noticed the bare skin to skin contact with the male body behind her. Oh, yeah, we’re lovers now. She relaxed, but soon wiggled out of Seth’s arms so she could dig through a drawer for clean clothes.

  Seth cracked an eye open. “What yer doing, luv?”

  “I’m going to go bathe,” she said. “Get some sleep if you can.”

  “S’kay.” His eye shuttered closed.

  She went up to the pool, noticing how much lower the water was. Seth must have taken a lot out. I guess I’ll have a shower instead. Megan bathed in the smaller off-shoot waterfall again, but as she stared directly down the hill, she gulped hard. I have no head for heights.

  When Megan came back down the path, she heard voices. She stopped, frozen. It’s the rescue ships. Seth was wrong. She ran back to the campsite.

  She skidded to a stop, staring at the rough-looking dark-skinned people.

  Rubbing the back of his head, Seth turned to her. “Megz, luv, how’s your Mexican?”

  “Passable, I guess.” She turned to the group. “Hola.”

  “Bueno dias.” One heavy set woman spoke up, who introduced herself as Juanita.

  Megan pointed to herself. “Nombre Megan.” She pointed to Seth. “Nombre Seth.”

  The woman started talking again. Megan caught about every third word, but heard, “Agua” a few times. She realized what was throwing her off. The woman spoke with an unfamiliar accent. Juanita finished her speech, but they all stared at Seth.

  Seth’s eyes got big while he gazed back. “What are they all looking at me fer?”

  “Because you’re big and male. Most Spanish groups look to the man for leadership.”

  “What do they want? What does agua mean?”

  “Water. They’re fishermen. After that big storm yesterday, they got blown off course, and they’re out of fresh water.”

  “I'll be stuffed,” he said, surprised.

  “What did you think they wanted?”

  “Um, I reckoned this mob were pirates,” he said, red-faced. “Orright, is the hose still at the bottom of the pond?”

  “Yes, it is,” she told him. “But the water is a little low.”

  “How low is it?”

  “It’s about a third of the way down.”

  He thought about it. “Orright, how much do they want?”

  “I’ll ask.” Megan turned to the group who watched them with expectant expressions. She told them what she could, by the nods and smiles, they understood. Several broke away from the group to get gallon jugs out of their dinghy. Their dilapidated fishing boat was anchored just past the breakers.

  “I reckon we can spare that much. Um, Megz, did you bathe in it?”

  “No, there’s another smaller waterfall that doesn’t feed the pond. I didn’t want my soap bubbles in our drinking water.”

  “Good girl.” He went to the boat to turn on the pump just long enough to get the water flowing again. The fishing folk lined up to fill their containers.

  The slim woman came over to Megan, and she talked to her in Spanish. Her name was Mary. Megan tried to answer what she could. Great, I should have taken a class in college, too. She tried to explain they were survivors, but the woman seemed to think they were from that TV show. So, they’ve seen TV, but how do I explain we’re the real deal?

  ~* * *~

  One of the men slapped his chest. “Juan.”

  “G’day Juan,” Seth said.

  Juan handed Seth a couple of fish rolled in a banana leaf. He pointed to the water, then to the fish.

  “Orright, I get ya, mate. Yer paying for the water.” He smiled and nodded. “Agua.”

  “Si, si, agua.” The man nodded again.

  “Si.” He agreed, setting the fish to the side.

  After a while, Seth noticed Megz go inside the boat, but then came out with an envelope. She handed it to a skinny woman with some of the pig meat. She talked to the woman for a while, but a heavy set woman joined in. The conversation got really animated when Megz tried to explain something, gesturing with her hands.

  Seth filled up the first jug and moved the hose to the next one. Megan walked over to where he couldn’t see her. I hope Megz, doesn’t do anything foolish with these folk. Like leave with ‘em.

  Megan came back went into the boat a second time, bringing out a couple more packages. One of the women gave her a bag.

  Seth looked over his shoulder at Megan. “ Blimey, Megz, whaz you doing?”

  “I’m trading,” she told him. “Don’t worry, its stuff we can spare.”

  The thin woman looked at him with big dark eyes, and asked Megz a question. “Esposo furioso?”

  I wonder what that means?

  Megz replied in too low a tone for him to hear, but put a reassuring hand on her arm.

  “Wazzat?” Seth asked.

  “She’s afraid that my husb and is mad at me for trading food.” Megan grinned.

  “Oh, waz that all?” he said, amused.

  Soon the water jugs were filled, but they asked to pick some fruit. Megan hiked with them into the bush. She showed them a few spots to harvest, and they were soon under way.

  Seth put his arm around Megan when they watched them sail off in their fishing boat. “Kind of nice having visitors, even ones I couldn’t understand.”

  “Yeah.” Megan sighed as she leaned against him.

  “What did ya trade fer?”

  “Some seeds, an onion, seasoning and rice,” she replied. “I tried to get a chicken, but they didn’t have one.”

  “I saw ya bring out an envelope from the boat. It wasn’t Bill’s pictures?”

  “No, I wrote a letter then asked if they could mail it, or give it to someone who could take it to the states.”

  “What did yer letter say?”

  “That I’m alive and well. But I’m marooned on a deserted island with a wild Aussie doing me day and night.”

  Seth looked at her to see if she was serious. She kept a straight face for quite a while, but
one corner of her mouth slowly curled up. “ Blimey, yer having a go at me, aren’t ya?”

  Megan started to laugh. “What do you think?”

  “I’m gonna make you reckon doing you day and night,” he said, chasing after Megan. She ran, squealing with laughter.

  Finally, catching up with his lover, he scooped her up, carrying her into the boat.

  ~* * *~

  “I never did get to do my Tai Chi today.” Megan pouted with her head on Seth’s chest.

  “Didn’t get no brekky either, I’m well rooted and hungry, wife.”

  “Wife, huh?” She looked up at him.

  “That’s what they reckoned you were, and you let ‘em.”

  “It’s just easier, that’s all.” She sat up. “What did you want me to tell them? No, I’m just with him, because he’s the only male on the island?”

  “Isn’t that what you accused me of doin’?”

  “That’s because . . . I am . . . the . . . only . . . woman,” she said with a sniff, sticking her nose in the air.

  “There were a couple of birds on that boat, I could have traded up.”

  “Naw, they were too afraid of the big Aussie.” She tugged on her shorts.

  “They were?” He raised both eyebrows.

  She pulled her shirt over her head. “The women asked how big your thing is, also did it tear me up when we did it.”

  He frowned. “Are you giving me a bit of curry?”

  “I don’t know what that means?”

  “It means are you having another go at me?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I reckon you are.” He smiled.

  “Then you reckon wrong.”

  His face drooped. “They really said that?”

  “From what I’m able to figure out, your size did frighten the women. Their men were about a foot shorter than you are.”

  “I reckon so,” he muttered, sitting up.

  “What did you want to eat?” She picked up her brush, running it through her hair. “Fruit, pork, or something else?”

  “I reckon on being big, but am I too big for you?” His concern for her etched his expression.

  She set the brush down. “No, honey.” Megan placed her hands on his wide shoulders, locking gazes with him. “I like your size. We fit together like matching puzzle pieces. You make me feel safe when you’re around.”

  “Aw, well if you feel safe, then, it’s orright.” He grinned up at her. “Can you cook up some pork? I think I need protein after a morning like we had.”

  Picking up a clip, she pulled her hair back since it had grown enough for a ponytail. “I think you’re right. How about I use the new seasoning I traded for?”

  “Sure, but is it hot?”

  “You like curry and it’s hot?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a different kind of hot.”

  “Wuss.” She headed into the kitchen.

  “That’s a bit rough,” he called after her. “I just know what I can take, also what I can’t.”

  “Mexican seasoning does have a sting to it. I’ll go easy with the seasoning,” she promised.

  “Orright.” He got up, dressing in just his shorts.

  A basket filled with fruit set like a decoration on the dining table. “Oy, where did this come from?”

  “When I took the women to pick fruit, I got some for us, too.”

  “Did they like yer basket?”

  “I think they were a little jealous.”

  “What did they say?”

  She grinned. “They or their mom could do better.”

  “Why did that please ya?”

  “They kept stealing glances at it, also I overheard one say ‘I could make a good living at their cay selling them to tourists, if I wasn’t an Americana.’ It’s nice to know that I can impress the natives with my handmade baskets.”

  “Oh, even Blind Freddy could see that.” He smiled.

  “Well, since we don’t have Freddy here, we’ll have to rely on you.”

  “Eh?”

  She stared into the refrigerator a moment. “I’ve probably lost my down payment by now.”

  “On what?”

  “My store I was going to open, Meg’s Baskets and Things. I had the garage filled with my baskets. I also had a sign made. We had just enough time after Eli graduated from high school to have our vacation and return home before the store was available.” Megan sighed. “That dream’s dead.” She took out some plastic wrapped meat. “Hey, what’s this?” she asked, examining the leaf-wrapped fish.

  “Oh, one of ‘em fella’s gave it to me fer the water.”

  “Seems like you did a trade, too,” she said. “Do you want that or the pork?”

  “I reckon I did.” He smiled filled with pride. “The pork, and we’ll have the fish for tea.”

  “Okay. Oh, darling, I found out our island’s name.”

  “What is it, luv?”

  “We’re on Wild Pig Cay, and they’re from Sandy Cay.”

  “Very descriptive.” He chuckled.

  “The women also told me that there are iguanas on most of the cays, but not on this one, because the pigs here ate the eggs a long time ago. So, they died out.”

  “That’s rough on the iguanas.”

  “Isn’t it though?” Megan took an iron skillet from the oven. “They also said they’re not Mexican. They’re native Bahamians. But, I think they were lying.” She added oil to the pan.

  “How did ya reckon?”

  “Bahamians speak English but their accent was different from the Mexicans I knew in California. I think they’re Cuban refugees who have taken up residence on Sandy Cay.”

  “How you reckon that, eh?”

  She unwrapped the pork steaks. “One of the women slipped, saying that they would have settled here, but for El Diablo.”

  “Diablo? That means devil, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s their name for the one eyed boar. Considering they don’t want to be found out, I doubt that they’ll tell the authorities we’re here. But, they did say we could go with them if they had more room.”

  “Megz, do you want to go home?” Seth held his breath, waiting for her answer while his heart beat rapidly against his ribs.

  “No, there’s nothing for me at home anymore. My sons are grown, even before they graduated from high school, they were off doing their own things. I still worry about them, but like you said they’re grown men now. I do worry about my mother, though. She’s not in good health, but my sister lives near her.” She finally looked up at him. “But, my life is here with you now.”

  Seth got up, took her in his arms and held her. “I reckon we’ve found a home here on our little island.”

  “Yes, we have.”

  Giving her a quick kiss, he stepped away so she could cook. He was relieved and realized how keyed up he was ever since the dark folk had arrived on their cay.

  ~* * *~

  Megan set the pork in the sizzling oil. She opened the small bag of seasoning and sprinkled it on the meat. Hmm, powered red pepper and some other seasonings, smells good. She then measured rice, adding it to a pot with water. Filling the kettle, she set it on the stove to heat for their tea.

  “Luv, yer got three burners going?”

  “Yes, it does have four,” she replied.

  “I don’t know if it’ll work, Bill never used that many.”

  “Did he make any large meals?”

  “Naw, most were one-pot meals,” he admitted. “But he enjoyed making curry and rice.”

  “Did you ever cook?” A delicious smell filled the cabin from the cooking meat.

  “I barbie. And I fry a bit. I reckon that’s all I’m good for.”

  She turned over the meat. “I’ve eaten your cooking. It’s good.”

  “I reckon it’s passable.” He grinned.

  Megan ran a self-conscious hand over her hair. “The women also said my hair color had grown out.”

  “Blimey, it has? ‘Ere I thought I had me
a Scottish lass.”

  She smiled at him. “You have, but my color has faded since I’ve gotten older. I had it done right before we left for the Bahamas, but I don’t have anything to recolor it.”

  “At Uni, I had a bird that used lemon on her hair. She claimed it would turn even dark hair blonde.”

  Megan frowned. “You want me to be a blonde?”

  “No need to get your knickers in a bunch. It was just a suggestion, but maybe a red fruit would color yer hair?”

  “Hmm, I could experiment.” She looked thoughtful at the fruit basket.

  When the food was done, Megan brought two plates to the table. “Here you go, honey. Mexican rice with seasoned pork, also tea.”

  “Looks good.” Seth took a big bite. “Hot-hot.” He fanned his mouth, grabbing his cup, gulping his tea down. “Gaw, that’s not helping.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge, guzzling it.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I use too much seasoning?” She took a hesitant bite. “It tastes okay to me. There’s barely any heat to it.”

  “Sorry, luv, but it’s really burning me tongue.” He got the ketchup out, dumping it all over the food.

  “I don’t see how that’s going to help.” Megan made a face, watching him.

  He took another bite. “It cooled it down a mite.”

  “Sorry you don’t like it.”

  “How can you eat it straight?” he said, watching her take another bite with a pain-filled expression.

  “There are lots of Mexican restaurants in California.” She shrugged. “I like the food.”

  “If you cook this again, make sure I still have me sauce.”

  “Are you running low? You put ketchup on everything.” Can someone be addicted to a sauce?

  “Not everything, luv. I didn’t put it on the curry last night.” He grinned between bites, gulping down more of his beer while he wiped sweat off his brow.

  “If it’s that bad, you don’t have to finish eating it.” She reached for the plate.

  He pushed her hand away. “Get off me food. I’m eating it.”

  “Okay, have it your way.” She tried to enjoy her own meal, but kept glancing at Seth while he determinedly worked his way through his plate. I guess I should have used even less seasoning than I did, but I didn’t used much. The curry was way hotter. Maybe he’s right, it is a different kind of hot?