"Stuff it, Cassidy. I'm just off my game today. Wait until next time. I'll show you all the challenge you can handle."
"Maybe, but if you ask me, what you need is some time off—a vacation."
Steve grabbed the towel lying with his bag and wiped it over his face. Then he picked up his bottle of water and drank half of it before pausing. He looked around the area, admiring the intense blue of the sky and the way the palm trees stood out in stark relief.
"You're ignoring me," Ray said after a few minutes.
"Actually, I'm thinking about what you just said. I happen to agree with you."
"Which part? That you're out of shape or that you need a vacation?"
"Both, actually. It just so happens that an old friend of my dad was visiting with the folks in Santa Barbara while I was home last week. He was talking to me about taking some time off and visiting his island in the Virgin Islands."
"His island?Are you serious? He owns the entire thing?"
Steve shrugged. "He used to play ball with dad, invested his money over the years and decided to retire to some exotic, out-of-the-way place. He said he and his wife lasted there about nine months before they both agreed that Eden wasn't all it was cracked up to be. No malls, no ESPN, no friends and family. So they use it for a getaway weekend once in a while, but most of the time the only ones living there is the native family who looks after the property. He told me the place was just waiting there, begging to be used."
Ray sat down on the bench and looked up at Steve in awe. '"How come my family doesn't know people who own islands?" he asked with a grin. "Do you think you'll take him up on the offer?"
Steve sighed. "Actually, I talked to the captain yesterday about taking some time off. He's to get back with me after the holidays. I'm asking for three weeks, which will put a strain on covering my duties for so long."
"Wish I could go with you, but I don't have any time coming until May."
Steve picked up his bag. "Actually, I'm looking forward to being alone for a while. The more I think about it, the more the idea of going off by myself appeals to me. Not to have to make conversation with anyone, to be able to sleep whenever I want, to catch up on some reading, soak up some sun—it all sounds perfect to me."
"Won't you miss having some feminine companionship, playing Robinson Crusoe like that?"
Steve laughed and shook his head. "That's the last thing that sounds appealing to me right now. I think I finally managed to convince Alicia last night that there's no future for us, despite her best efforts to convince me otherwise. Solitude sounds downright enticing after being smothered by her these past few months."
"Too bad I don't have your good looks to go with my sparkling personality," Ray said solemnly. "Let's face it, pal. Those smoldering dark looks are wasted on you."
Steve studied his redheaded, freckle-faced friend and grinned. Ray was a chick magnet and he knew it, so all his talk was just so much baloney. "Give me a break," Steve replied. "You've got more women after you than any five men."
"Maybe," Ray admitted with a shrug. "But it's those Italian good looks of yours that get the second glances every time, my friend. That aloof air—not to mention the dimples and curly hair—seems to lure them into your vicinity even when you aren't aware of them. Such as now," he added ruefully.
Steve frowned. “What are you talking about?''
"Those two watching us leave the court," Ray replied, nodding to the young women taking over the court behind them. “They kept watching you during that last set as though trying to decide what TV show they'd seen you on."
Steve shook his head in disgust. "Very funny."
"You know, Steve, one of these days you're going to lose that very guarded heart of yours, and when you do, you'll discover how the rest of us mortals feel." He grinned. "I hope I'm around to watch when that happens."
"I've told you, Ray. Being a cop doesn't lend itself to successful relationships. Every guy I work with who's been married is either divorced or catching hell at home because of his long hours and dangerous duties, not to mention the lousy pay." "So change jobs."
"I like what I do. Most of the time.' But ever since Christmas, I've been seriously considering taking a break. What is it about the holidays that bring the weirdest people out into the open to create mayhem on those around them? I don't guess I'll ever get used to man's inhumanity toward his fellow man."
"I certaintly hope not. Otherwise you'd lose your edge...and you're a damned good cop." "'Tell my boss that. Maybe he'll finally put in for that raise that's overdue." They reached their cars, and Steve paused before getting into. "I'll let you know if I get the okay on this trip. And when I get back, we'll set up a rematch and see if I'm enough competition for you."
"Promise you won't take a tennis racket with you." Steve laughed.. "And who would I be playing tennis with on a deserted island? I won't even be able to send you a postcard, I'll be so isolated."
"I hope you get the time off," Ray said, suddenly serious. "That's the first time I've heard you laugh in a long while. I'll enjoy seeing you with your sense of humor back."
Miami, Florida January 5
"Oh, Robin, this is awful," Cindi whispered dramatically as the two of them stood at the rail of the ship and watched the other guests of the cruise line come on board.
"Well, it isn't exactly what we were expecting, is it?" Robin responded ruefully.
"I haven't seen anyone younger than sixty, have you?"
' 'Do you suppose your aunt and uncle booked through some club or something?"
"I never thought of that. They'd fit right in with this group. So what are we going to do?"
Robin laughed. "We're going to enjoy ourselves, that's what. We're going to wear all our sexy new clothes, eat until we can hardly move and entertain ourselves with all those fantasies of good-looking men."
Cindi glanced over her shoulder. "Well, actually, I saw some crew members that weren't half-bad. Who knows? Maybe they'll take pity on us. Have you noticed that there aren't any single women? Every one of them is with a man."
"Maybe they know something we don't know. Maybe they got a special brochure that told them to bring their own male."
"Instead of a 'bring your own bottle' party, huh?"
"Something like that."
They looked at each other and started laughing. They were still laughing when one of the crew paused beside them and said, "We're glad to see you're enjoying yourselves so quickly. If you'd like some refreshments, I'll show you the way to the bar and lounge area."
Robin gave Cindi a quick glance, then said, "Sounds great." As they followed the attendant, Robin acknowledged to herself the irony of their situation. Neither her father nor her brothers could possibly have reason to worry about her on this trip.
San Saba Island
Steve stood on the beach and watched the sky lighten, feeling the tension draining from his body. He'd been here three days, and the island was beginning to work its magic on him. The only sound was the soothing rhythm of the waves washing along the shoreline. An occasional bird called to its mate. Otherwise there was silence.
The silence had been the hardest difference to adjust to. There was no noise of traffic—sirens screaming, horns honking, brakes squealing. He couldn't remember a time in his recent past where those noises hadn't played a role in the background of his life,
Steve turned and looked up to the crest of the rise of land behind him, where the house looked out over the vista of sea and sky. No expense had been spared in turning the house into a tropical paradise. In addition to all the latest appliances to make the kitchen and laundry run smoothly, there were tiled floors with woven mats scattered throughout the house, floor-to-ceiling windows in every room, and a sense that movement was optional.
The ceiling paddle fans in each room stirred the air, their soft hum a quiet accompaniment to his thoughts as he'd struggled to find a routine that didn't call for him to be constantly on the move.
The first da
y he'd arrived—after flying through the night from Los Angeles to Miami, then changing planes in order to arrive eventually in St. Thomas, and then be taken by launch to San Saba Island—Steve had slept around the clock. He'd awakened late in the evening only to discover that he'd missed seeing much of the island in daylight.
He'd wandered through the house, looking into each room at the wicker and rattan furniture, the tropical print material covering the cushions, the quiet sense of time-lessness, of peace and serenity, and knew that he was a long way from L.A.
He'd found a tempting array of food in the refrigerator—fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as a plate that could be warmed in the microwave. Carmela had prepared the food while her husband, Romano, had met him in St. Thomas and brought him by boat to the island. They were happy people, obviously enjoying their way of life, pleased to be working for an American who rarely visited, delighted to be able to look after Steve.
On the boat ride over to San Saba, Romano had given him a brief history of the island. He'd explained that, even at the highest point on the island, there was no sign of the other islands that made up the chain strung along the sea like green jewels on a blue background that he'd seen from the air when he'd flown in. He would be alone for the first time in his life, to do what he wished to do, or to do nothing, if it pleased him.
Since he'd first arrived on the island, Steve had seen little of the caretakers, although his meals were always prepared and waiting for him and his clothes were placed, freshly laundered, in his room each day.
A guy could definitely get used to this existence.
His stomach growled and he laughed softly to himself. Carmela was a fantastic cook, and his body had quickly adapted to the regular meals that she so appetizingly prepared for him. Romano had explained that he traveled to St. Thomas periodically for supplies. As a result Steve ate like an Eastern potentate. At the rate he was going he wouldn't be surprised if he gained ten pounds by the time he returned home.
Once the sun broke above the horizon, flooding the water and the sky with brilliant rays, Steve was ready to return to the house. After breakfast he intended to do some exploring of the island, then take another long nap. He'd already gotten more sleep in these past few days than he'd had in weeks.
He began the trek up the path to the house.
Robin and Cindi had been on the ten-day cruise for three days when the activities director announced that the guests on board were invited to take one of the boats over to a nearby island that was well-known for its tide pools and exotic species from the sea.
Cindi wasn't interested in tide pools, but Robin at the last minute thought it might be fun to join the small group planning to participate. She pulled out one of her small tote bags, and threw into it an extra swimsuit besides the one she wore under her shirt and shorts, a large beach towel, added a pair of slacks and a windbreaker in case it got cooler before they returned and joined the group who wanted to visit the island. She had not signed up, so she was not on the list of cruise members going to the island, but she was assured one more would not matter.
On their way the officer in charge explained that an American owned the island. He had agreed to allow the cruise ship company access to the island as long as they stayed on the northern shore. The private residence was at the other end of the island, which was off-limits to cruise passengers.
Robin didn't care. It felt good to leave the ship for a few hours. She'd discovered that she felt cooped up on board, even though the luxury liner was huge. It was probably a psychological effect, knowing that she had to stay on the ship. Their first day trip was scheduled for St. Croix, which was still a few days away. She was ready to get on solid ground, if only for a few hours.
Once they landed, Robin wandered with the others as they followed the ship's officer's lecture regarding the various sea creatures that had made their homes in the shallow tidal pools among the rocks. When he was finished, the group scattered to explore the area.
Robin lost track of time as she became absorbed in the pools. She climbed over rocks and followed the rim where sand and sea met, watching the activity of the tiny specimens with awe.
When she heard the boat's bell signaling time for their return, she was startled to discover that she had wandered much farther down the beach than the others. She grabbed her bag and ran, clambering over outcroppings of rocks that blocked her view of the rest of the island and her fellow passengers.
In her hurry she slipped and fell, scraping her foot against some sharp shells imbedded in the rock, which further delayed her. When she finally made it around the curve of vegetation that grew down to the sea at the place where they'd come ashore, Robin was horrified to see the launch had already left and was rapidly disappearing over the horizon.
"No-o-o-o-o!" she cried, jumping up and down. "Come back! Help!" She limped along the shore, waving and calling, but no one noticed her.
She'd been warned, of course. The ship kept a tight schedule. The passengers were often reminded that the tide waited on no one, and if a passenger failed to meet the time schedule, they would be left. And they didn’t have her on the roster, so they wouldn't have waited a few seconds longer, anyway.
It had never occurred to her that she would be one of those people left behind.
What in the world was she going to do? She looked around at the idyllic setting—the softly curving beach of fine, white sand; the thick tropical vegetation vibrantly green against the blue backdrop of cloudless sky; the cool water with its lacy foam washing against the sand. Unfortunately, at that particular moment she couldn't really appreciate the beauty of the place.
Fighting her panic, Robin watched as the launch disappeared from view.
She sat down on the sand and burst into tears of frustration and anger at herself. How could she have been so oblivious of the time and distance she'd gone? She'd been an absolute fool, and now would have to pay the consequences.
At least she knew that someone had a home on the island if she could find the courage to go looking for him. It wasn't as if she were on a deserted island and forced to forage for food in order to survive. Even if cruise passengers weren't allowed to bother the owner, she felt certain he would understand her dilemma and help her in some way.
The question was, how was she going to get back to the ship?
If people lived here, there must be some form of communication. If she could find a phone or a ham radio, she'd be able to contact the cruise ship and find out what she had to do in order to rejoin the cruise.
Her busy thoughts kept pace with her footsteps. There was no reason to panic, after all. She could deal with this just fine.
However, she was thankful that none of her brothers knew what had happened to her. If they ever found out about this—and she planned to do everything in her power to make certain they never did—they would be convinced they'd been right all along.
She couldn't be trusted to stay out of trouble on her own.
Three
Steve had been on the island for seven full days now and had to admit to himself that he wasn't certain he would ever be eager to return to civilization. He hadn't fully realized how driven he'd been on the job until he'd adapted his new schedule to the sun since coming to the island.
He got up at daybreak, spent his day outside—either swimming, reading or napping—and went to bed not long after the sun set. This was what man was intended to do, he thought to himself—follow nature's rhythms. He ate whenever he was hungry, slept whenever the mood struck him and hadn't looked at a timepiece since he'd set foot on the island.
His routine was simple. By dawn he would be on the shore, watching the sunrise. Later he would swim in the lagoon, working up an appetite for breakfast. After breakfast he explored the island, a new section each day. He'd found hidden waterfalls and small ponds surrounded by ferns, animal trails that led from one side of the island to the other, fruits growing wild.
For the first time since he could remember, he woke u
p each morning eager to face the day.
Now as he reached one of the high points on the north side of the island, his binoculars in hand, Steve knew he owed a real debt of gratitude to Ed for suggesting he use his place. Steve would be eternally grateful.
He paused, thinking he saw something on the horizon. He focused the glasses and smiled. His first sight of the existence of civilization since he's arrived—a cruise ship appeared in his sights, somewhere off in the distance.
Steve recalled that Ed had mentioned an arrangement he'd made with one of the cruise lines where the passengers were allowed to visit the island for a few hours every couple of weeks. Ed had assured Steve that he wouldn't be disturbed. He was curious to know if there had been recent visitors or whether he could expect some in the next few hours. He scanned the beach, but with his first visual sweep didn't spot anyone.
He raised his binoculars to the water again and checked to see if he could spot any dolphins frolicking about. The sea fascinated him. He could watch it for hours.
It was when he lowered the glasses some time later that he caught movement on the beach out of the corner of his eye.
He refocused and looked through the glasses once again. There, standing on the shore facing out to sea was the figure of a tall, slender female wearing a halter top and shorts, with a large straw hat perched on her head. A carryall rested at her canvas-shod feet. She was the very picture of dejection.
He looked through the strong glasses toward the cruise ship and spotted a smaller craft rapidly approaching it. Oops. From his perspective on the high point overlooking the island and the ocean, the situation appeared obvious. Somehow the woman had missed the launch and her ride back to the cruise ship.
She was stranded on the island.
Steve quickly realized that it was up to him to do something. He was surprised to discover that he wasn't as irritated as he might have imagined he would be to have his solitary vacation interrupted by an intruder. Like Adam in the Garden of Eden, he had grown somewhat lonely, a fact that hadn't announced itself until he saw the dejected woman on the beach.
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