Windswept Shores

by Janice Seagraves

  “Didn’t I tell ya not to mess with Bill’s shit?”

  “Yes, but I needed paper to write a letter home.”

  “You saw this, and didn’t see fit to tell me?” he asked, his voice rising.

  “I didn’t want you to . . .” she trailed off.

  “Oy, what?” He hit the table with his fist.

  She flinched. “To be angry with Bill. I wanted you to keep the good memories you have of him, and not to . . . well, you know,” she trailed off with a helpless gesture at the paper in his hand.

  Seth stalked outside. He stood on the deck, watching the restless sea as he thought of his year with Bill, the man he thought of as his mate. Blimey, Bill, why did ya contract to my parents?

  Windswept Shores

  Chapter Twenty-one: Drying out

  Seth paced the floor, pausing once again to check all the cabinets and the refrigerator. “Blimey, not a drop to be had.”

  “What’s the matter, honey?” Megan asked sleepily. She leaned against the hallway, wearing just a tank top and bikini panties, which normally interested him, but not tonight.

  “Noth’n, go back to sleep,” he told her. I didn’t mean to wake her up.

  “Why are you searching all through the boat?”

  “Bloody hell, Megz. No need to ear-bash me.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “I wasn’t,” she snapped. “So, spill.”

  “Can’t find any of me beer,” he muttered.

  “It’s gone. You drank it all.” She studied him a moment. “Seth, you’ve got the shakes.”

  He held up his hands, noted the tremors then clutched them together. “Doesn’t mean buggery.”

  “You’re an alcoholic,” she accused him.

  “Shove off,” he shouted.

  “Fine.” She walked back to the bedroom.

  “Oh, bloody hell.” When a bird says fine, she don’t mean fine. He hurried after her, grabbing her arm. “Megz, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

  She jerked her arm from him. “You promised me you weren’t an alcoholic.”

  “Is that’s waz wrong with me?” He rubbed his jaw with a shaking hand.

  “Yes.”

  “Megz, I don’t know how to handle this.”

  She finally looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Jonathan was an alcoholic.”

  He asked, surprised, “Fair dunkin?”

  “Yeah, I helped him get through it, but I got rewarded by his treating himself to a mistress.” She held her elbows as she looked away. “He said once he sobered up, he could see me for the old worn-out hag I was.”

  Seth grabbed her in a bear hug. “When I’m off the flaming stuff, I won’t reckon you’re anything but you, luv.”

  “I hope so.” She hugged him back. “I have something to help you get through the night, but there isn’t much, it’ll just push the DT’s back some.”

  “Whatever ya can do to help, I can’t bloody stand this,” he told her. “It’s worse at night.”

  “At night?” she asked, surprised. “How long have you been like this?”

  “Just the last couple of ‘em,” he admitted.

  “Is that how long you’ve been without beer?”

  “Blimey, you’re right.”

  “Okay, let me go get the stuff.” Megan pushed away and pulled on a pair of pants. She dug in a drawer, pulling out a flashlight. “Wait here,” she ordered as she headed off the boat. In a few minutes, she came back with a purse that clanked.

  He rubbed his hands together, staring at the bag. “What cha’ got?”

  “This.” She handed him a small bottle.

  He looked at the miniature whisky bottle in his big hands. “Are ya mucking around with me?”

  “I told you I didn’t have much. I collected these along the shore line. They came from the plane.”

  He studied it a while longer. It’s not getting any bigger. “I’ll have a go.” He twisted off the top. “Cheers,” Seth toasted her, drinking the whole thing in one gulp, “Ahh.” Then he looked at her, “Got another.”

  She sighed, taking out one more, this time brandy. It looked smaller than the first one. “Take it easy, they have more alcohol than beer does.”

  “Maybe with two of these, I can sleep.” He tossed it down too.

  “Are you ready to go back to bed?”

  Seth looked at his hands, rock steady. “I guess she’ll do.”

  ~* * *~

  Megan was practicing her Tai Chi when Seth emerged from the boat. He walked over, watching her a moment, as he hugged himself with hands that shook. “Megz, I can’t find any of those little bottles.”

  “That’s because I hid them.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m not telling you! What do you think I am, nuts?”

  “Naw, Megz, but I got the need again.”

  “You got the shakes again?” She furrowed her brow.

  “Ya know what I mean.”

  “I gave you the drinks last night because you couldn’t sleep, and I already told you I don’t have much. So unless you want to walk the floor again tonight, you should just deal with it for now.”

  “Orright.” His shoulder slumped while he gazed out at the ocean waves for a moment. “I always forget me troubles when I surf, but the waves are too small.”

  “Is there something else you can do?”

  “I reckon I can snorkel a bit.”

  “Did you want me to go with you?”

  “Naw, Megz, I want to go by me—” he stopped, staring down at her.

  She frowned. “You want to be by yourself?”

  “Megz, luv, I didn’t mean it,” he quickly told her.

  “Yeah, you did.” She turned away from him, walking back up the slope.

  “Bloody hell, Megz.” He caught up to her, wrapping his arms around her. “Luv, I still want to be with you.”

  “I hear a—but— coming.” She stared away from him, waiting for his answer.

  “But while I’m dry’n out, I need to be by myself fer a bit.”

  “I knew this was going to happen. I told you when I moved on the boat.”

  “Ya also said you would understand?”

  “Yeah, I did.” She gestured toward the surf. “Go . . . go on. Commune with nature, if it’s what you need to do.”

  “Orright.” He gave her a quick kiss and hurried into the boat to get on his gear. He came back and kissed her again. “I’ll get us some brekky.”

  “Take your time,” she told him. “But be careful.”

  “Orright, I will.” He slipped on his flippers, and then goose-stepped into the sea.

  ~* * *~

  Megan put a kettle on her old campfire, still trying to conserve fuel. She didn’t trust Seth’s nonchalant attitude, and knew the fuel had to be quite low by now. While she waited for the water to heat, she gathered some reeds. She worked on a large basket and just about had it done by the time Seth emerged out of the sea, tired, happy, with a collecting bag full.

  “What do you find this time?”

  “How do ya feel about scallops for brekky?”

  “Oh, I love scallops,” she said, taking them from him. “I found some butter-flavored Crisco in the cabinets. Butter would be better, of course, but we’re almost out, so it’ll do for the scallops.”

  “G’darn, luv, I’m hungry enough without yer yakking about how yer gonna cook it.” He grinned as he removed his flippers.

  “Oh, sorry.” She looked back at the scallops, wondering how she was going to remove them from the shells.

  “Next time, I’ll go after some prawns. I saw ‘em today, but they’re moving too fast for me to catch.”

  “Chasing after shrimp might be a good way to distract yourself for a while.”

  “I reckon so. Maybe I’ll have a go at trying for some spiny lobsters, too. That’s a Bahaman delicacy. They only live here.”

  Seth showed her how to shell and clean the scallops. Megan cooked them in a pan over the campfire. Soon they were re
ady, and they ate them inside at the dining table.

  “Mmm, Megz, these are good,” Seth said, enjoying his brekky, even though it was noon.

  “I’m glad you like them. I wish I had a steamer, though. That way we could have more than the two ways of cooking.”

  “Frying or the barbie?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “One more thing on my wish list.”

  “I reckon that list is getting a mite long, eh?”

  “Yeah, it is,” she said, “along with the drawing paper and water colors which I found myself wanting the other night. Here, I was feeling proud we didn’t really need civilization, but I find myself wishing for something or another that we can’t find or make.”

  Seth reached over to take her hand. “It’s orright, Megz, if you really need it, I reckon you’ll figure it out.”

  She paused in thought. “I could try to steam shellfish in one of my baskets over a pot.” She shrugged. “At least I figured out what to do about my hair.”

  “It’s a fine strawberry blond, too.” He smiled.

  ~* * *~

  Seth walked the floor, his hands shaking again. “Luv, can you get the little bottles?”

  Megan looked up from the wind chime that she busily strung together by the light of three little tea candles. “Oh yeah, it’s about bed time, isn’t it?”

  “Yes it is, luv.” He glanced outside to the sun which had nearly set. They were getting up with the sun and going to bed with it, too. One more way they were trying to conserve power.

  “I’ll go get them.” She stood up, but pointed at him. “You stay right here.”

  “Blimey, Megz, don’t yer trust me?”

  “No, I don’t,” she said. “Especially not with an alcohol addiction twisting your system and your thinking.”

  “Orright, I’ll stay right here,” he said gloomily as he sank down at the dining table.

  She came back, but brought just two this time, setting them on the table. Megan carefully moved the candles to one side, then got a glass.

  He looked at everything in front of him. “Oy, why a glass?”

  “So that you’ll drink it slower, and you’ll realize that you’re drinking something real.” She took out a water pitcher from the fridge. Their only luxury, now that the fuel was nearly gone. “I want to thin it, too.”

  Seth watched her pour the water into the glass with a skeptically raised eyebrow. “Watered down booze? I don’t reckon that will help me constitution any.”

  “I want you to take a few days to get use to it watered down, so when I limit you to just one watered down drink, your taste buds and brain will accept it as normal.”

  “So, me brain won’t drive me round the bend, eh?”

  “Yes, exactly. I’m trying to wean you off the booze, slowly.”

  “Will that work?”

  “I don’t know. Jonathan went cold turkey. I also drove him to his weekly AA meetings until he was able to get his driving license back. He lost it, being DUI.”

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  She uncapped a bottle, pouring it into the cold water. His eyes never left the amber liquor mixing into the glass, softly lit by the golden glow of the candles.

  Megan slowly recapped the bottle, sat it down then gazed at him a long moment. Her sea green-eyes looked sad. “There were times when he yelled at me. There were times when he said he hated me. There were times when I wished that I was a weaker soul, so I could give him what he wanted, so he would love me again.” She put her head down and cried.

  Seth reached a shaking hand out and slid it toward the drink. He licked his lips.

  He stopped there, staring hard, while he listened to Megan’s sobs. Her tears tore at something deep down inside of him. Jono is a rotten bastard to make her still cry over him like that. Reaching past the glass, he took her hand. “I’m not Jonathan, luv. Pour the drink down the sink.”

  Megan’s head came up as her eyes got big, while tears ran down her cheeks. “Do you even know what you are asking? The DT’s are really rough. You can have seizures, Seth.”

  “Yeah, but I also reckon if old Jono can do it, so can I. But I’m man enough to still luv ya afterwards.”

  Megan scooted the drink to him. “Then show me. Be a man. Pour it out yourself.”

  “Orright, I will.” Seth stood up, walking the two steps to the sink. He gazed at the drink in his hand a long moment while his hand trembled. Be a man, ya drongo. Then he held it over the sink while his hand shook more. With gritted teeth, he slowly tipped it out, watching the liquid flow down the drain. Then he set the empty glass upside down. He stood there a moment, clutching the counter, as his head spun.

  What the bloody hell did I just do?

  Then Megan’s arms were around him. “You did it, darling. Oh, you did it. You’re going to beat this addiction, I just know you are.”

  “Yeah,” he said, softly still staring at the shadow-covered drain. “But one thing, luv, when will the urge to lick the sink clean go away?”

  Megan chuckled. “When it’s completely out of your system. But, to be honest, when you get around any kind of booze, it will hit you again—hard. It’s going to be difficult to stay clean and sober.”

  “I reckon I can do it.” He slipped an arm around Megan. “Can you help me get through the worst?”

  “Yes, I’ve helped one person through it, so I can do it again.”

  “Orright, Megz, get the rest, pour it all out. I don’t mean to drink another drop, ever again.”

  “Okay.” She smiled, but her eyes still looked sad.

  Windswept Shores

  Chapter Twenty-two: Pirates

  Megan walked down a well-used path from her favorite fruit picking site as she looked over the produce in her basket. All plump and dead ripe, just right to make juice with, although I don’t know what I’ll do with the pomegranate. She hoped the juice would sweeten Seth’s mouth and not upset his tummy. He’d been going through the toothpaste non-stop, claiming a horrible taste lingered on his tongue. More detox. Megan sighed. I hoped he was getting better. I need him to be well, especially with the boat out of fuel. The generator is dead, even the fridge is useless. I had to toss the last of the pork out on the beach, feeding it to the crabs. I don’t think I can manage much longer without Seth’s help. Oh, please, God, let him be well soon. A sense of panic made her stomach clinch.

  Closer to camp, she heard voices. Oh, the self-styled-natives must be visiting again. Megan looked forward to their infrequent visits, and her Spanish was improving with use. They had also taken a second letter to her sons, if it ever made its way to the states, anyway. Maybe I can talk them into selling me some fuel?

  With a lighter heart, she walked out of the bush, only to see suitcases and clothes flying out of her tent. Her wicker door had been cut off and tossed to the side. The deflated raft lay near it.

  “Hey, what are you doing? Stop that.”

  A dark head popped out of her tent. “Bueno dias, senorita,” he said with a gap-toothed leer, making Megan self-conscious in the bikini and sarong she wore.

  A thump from the boat made her glance from the ugly man to the Dinki-Di. Someone was digging through the built-in tool box and setting things to the side. “Get out of the boat. It doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Who might you be, little lady?” asked a man with dirty blond hair and a slight southern accent. He seemed to be supervising the men. He sucked on a cigar, blowing out a cloud of vile-smelling smoke.

  “None of your business, that’s who. Tell your men to get out of my stuff,” she snapped. “You’re trespassing.”

  “Trespassing is a matter of opinion, especially since your boat’s a derelict. We claim salvage rights.”

  “The Dinki-Di is my home. It’s not a derelict.”

  The man from the tent snatched her basket and stepped over to the blond man, stuffing fruit into his mouth. Juice dripped down his chin.

  Startled by his hyena laugh, she took a step back. “Jerk. You
guys are no better than thieves, you’re pirates.”

  The blond tossed his cigar, took out a fruit, and shined it on his shirt before he bit into it. “Pirate is such an out of date word. I prefer the term entrepreneur, and these men are my employees.” He frowned at the plundered plum. “Ugh, it’s overripe.”

  “Madre de Dios,” exclaimed the one in the boat, standing up as he dropped one of Seth’s huge sandals.

  “Who else is here with you?” demanded the blond man, pitching his fruit to the side and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Megan glanced around at the strangers’ hard expressions. All at once, she realized what they saw; a short, unarmed, scantily clad female all alone on a deserted island. They even took my basket away. I could have thrown my produce at them and ran. God, there are no police! No people. Just us. They can do whatever they want, and who would stop them? Feeling like she had just swallowed a lump of ice, Megan took a deep breath and yelled, “Seth, help. I need you.”

  “That wasn’t very smart,” said Blondie. He nodded toward the one who took her basket. He tossed it, grabbing her arm.

  Megan wrinkled her nose at his unwashed smell. “Ouch, not so rough,” she snapped, yanking away from him, but he had a good grip.

  From the boat came a thump, a bump, and a crash. Megan bit her lip. I hope Seth didn’t fall on his face.

  The one in the boat quickly jumped out, hurrying over to stand by Blondie. “El debe ser un gigante.”

  Megan could tell by his accent he was a native Mexican, feeling on safer ground she answered him. “Mi marido es muy grande.”

  His eyes bulged. He glanced quickly back to the boat.

  The blond man turned to the one holding Megan. “Junior, what are they talking about?”

  Junior replied, “Chico asked if her man was a giant. She said he was muy grande, very big.”

  “She’s bragging. Trying to scare us off.”

  With a squeak, the cabin door opened. “Now you’re gonna get it,” Megan said through clinched teeth.

  Seth bent under the doorway as he exited the boat. He seemed taller than ever, but his eyes were blood shot, and his week-old beard gave him a wild appearance. “Waz do ya want? Waz you doing to me woman?” he said in a deep growl.