four
M AYBE I BLACKED OUT again or maybe I fell into a blurry daze. For whatever reason, I have almost no memory of the stretch of time between our climbing up onto the piece of boat wreckage and finally getting beached on a sandy shore.
The sun is just barely starting to rise over the water, and the storm has either ended or passed on. It’s quiet other than the lapping of the waves when I suddenly realize we aren’t moving.
At all. Not even the steady rocking of the sailboat.
I lift my head and blink, momentarily blinded because I’m facing the sunrise in what’s now a clear sky. I taste salt in my mouth, and my skin is stinging in a dozen places from small cuts and abrasions.
My head is pounding, and it hurts every time I move, but I’m alive.
Alive—when all odds were against it.
I turn my head to check for Edmund and let out a long breath. He is indeed still beside me, sprawled out as awkwardly as I am. His eyes are closed, and his wet hair is plastered over his eyes and forehead.
I reach over and give him a hard poke in the side. “Edmund. Edmund!”
He makes a grumbling sound and shifts just slightly.
“Edmund! Wake up.”
“Way too early.”
I almost—almost—giggle at his aggrieved tone. He sounds exactly as he always has on the few occasions I’ve had to wake him up at a certain time. “Edmund, get your ass up or we’re going to be washed away again.”
That evidently gets through to him. He blinks a couple of times, then pushes his hair out of his face and lifts his upper body to peer around. “Oh my fucking God,” he breathes.
“We’re still alive. So that’s something.”
“Yeah.” He hefts himself into a sitting position with a groan. “Where are we?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” It’s an island in the Pacific. That much is obvious. And there’s nothing to be seen except a broad expanse of sandy beach and the edges of a tropical forest that appears to cover the interior of the island.
“Guess we got to that island paradise after all,” he says, studying our surroundings the way I am.
“Probably so. Unfortunately, that means the island is uninhabited. So there’s probably not a way to call or radio for help.”
“Shit.” He scoots over until he’s able to slide off the large piece of our hull that saved us.
When he reaches up to help me off too, I let him, my knees buckling when my feet hit the sand.
It feels like I’m going to fall, so I instinctively grab for his wet shirt. I stabilize myself quickly, but he suddenly pulls me forward, wrapping his arms around me in a tight, urgent hug.
I hug him back, responding to the shuddering emotion coming off him.
We almost died. That much is obvious. It’s a miracle we didn’t, and both of us know it.
For some reason, the idea of his dying is even more painful than thinking about dying myself.
We stand hugging for a long time, but then finally I make myself pull back. This is a real emergency, and we have to figure out what to do.
“Okay, let’s think for a minute,” I say, rubbing my face. The sun is rising fast, reflecting blindingly on the ocean. I’m going to get burned to a crisp out here.
Edmund gives a soft, amused huff. “That’s my Autumn. Already with making a plan.”
“What other choice do we have?”
“None. We have none. But I think we’ll be okay. There was a GPS locator on the boat. As soon as Caleb and the others back home realize something’s wrong, they’ll trigger it and send help to find us.”
“Unless it’s on this specific piece of our boat, who knows where they’ll be looking for us. It’s likely at the bottom of the ocean right now.”
“Maybe. But they’ll do a general search. They’ll find us in not too long.”
“How long is ‘not too long’ in your estimation?”
Edmund shrugs in that nonchalant way he has. “A couple of days.”
“Okay. Even if you’re right and we’re going to be found sooner rather than later, we still need a plan. We’ve got to survive until we’re found, which means we need food and water.”
He gestures toward the tree line. “Bet we can find it in there.”
He doesn’t look all that concerned, and honestly, it’s obnoxious. All my soft, clinging feelings from before are transforming into sharp annoyance. “Okay, Tom Sawyer. You’re getting all excited about this adventure. How would you suggest we proceed?”
His eyebrows lift at my dry tone, but he still looks like he might laugh. “Start looking for food and water?”
“Very helpful plan of action.” I’m shaking my head and frowning past his shoulder when I think of something. “What section of the boat do you think this is?”
He turns to look. “The bow, I suppose.” He grins. “Oh, I see. That’s where some of our stuff was stored. It’s a long shot, but I guess there might be something useful still in there.”
We both move in silent agreement to investigate the torn side of the wreckage. We did have a storage compartment in this section where we’d stashed some of our extra supplies, but nearly everything was washed out into the ocean. But in the far corner, one plastic tub got lodged. It takes a lot of effort from both of us, but we finally pull it out.
I’m the one who organized our supplies, so I realize what’s in it even before Edmund pries off the lid.
Several boxes of protein bars. The shampoo Edmund likes to use. Some extra bottles of sunscreen. And a few towels (now damp) I’d used to pad the extra space in the tub.
Edmund chuckles as he pulls out the sunscreen. He tosses me a bottle.
Not one to question providence, I immediately squirt some out and rub it all over my face. It’s kind of gritty because there’s salt and sand on my skin, but I don’t care. Anything to keep me from being burned.
“Well, the protein bars are helpful since we’re likely to be limited to coconuts here,” Edmund says, putting the boxes back into the large tub.
“This isn’t Gilligan’s Island , you know. Why would you assume there’ll be coconuts?”
“What do you want to bet there are?”
I hesitate briefly but then shake my head. I’m not going to take that bet because I’d be likely to lose. Of course there are coconuts on this tropical island. This is exactly the kind of island where they’d be. “Okay, then our first priority has to be fresh water. We can survive a lot longer without food than without water.”
“I know. Surely there’s some fresh water in there somewhere. If it’s that paradise island, there’s supposed to be a freshwater spring. We should explore.”
“While we’re at it, we can find out for sure whether we’re all alone here or not. It might not be the island we were aiming for after all.”
“I think it is. But exploring is basically our only choice right now.” He glances down at my feet. “At least you’ve still got your shoes.”
I didn’t even realize it before. I’m wearing shorts with a thin, loose, long-sleeved top that’s damp and is clinging to my body quite resiliently, and on my feet are my boat shoes. But Edmund’s feet are completely bare. “On no. You have no shoes.”
“I kicked them off trying to swim last night. I’m amazed you managed to keep yours on.”
“Well, try not to step on sharp rocks or poisonous snakes.”
“I’ll do my best.”
***
T HE FOREST—OR MAYBE we should call it a jungle—is thick, the ground covered with foliage. It’s really hard to get through. After trying for a few minutes, we decide to walk the perimeter, checking out the size of the island and searching for a thinning of the trees to enter.
It takes not much more than an hour to walk the circumference of the entire island, so it’s not very large. There’s no easy way to enter the jungle—the trees are all equally thick. Finally, as we’re approaching the spot where we started, I see the trickling of a stream over rocks coming out from the trees. We force our way in there and find the stream is deeper several yards in.
Edmund cups some in his hand and tastes it. “It’s fresh.”
“It could be full of bacteria.”
“Yeah. I suppose so. But as it’s our only freshwater source, if we’re going to die from it, we might as well go ahead and die now.”
I shake my head at his tone, but he’s right. We don’t have any real choice here. We can’t even boil it to kill any germs because we have no pot to heat it up in.
So we drink it in our cupped palms and rinse the sand and salt from our hands and faces. I feel better afterward.
“We need something to carry it in,” I say.
“Yeah. When we find our coconuts, we can make bowls out of them.”
I giggle. I can’t help it. He’s absolutely imperturbable. “For now I guess we can make some sort of shelter nearby so we’re close enough to use our hands.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to chop down trees with my bare hands and construct you a house.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I sigh and try to think. I’ve always tried to be prepared for every eventuality, but never in my wildest dreams would I be marooned on a deserted island. “Do you think we can drag that piece of the boat farther up the beach? We could clear it out and use that as a shelter. It’s already constructed, and the part that’s not damaged should be waterproof.”
Edmund focuses on the large, heavy chunk of wreckage. Then he shrugs. “I guess we can try.”
***
D RAGGING THE BIG PIECE of the hull up the beach over loose sand is a massive feat.
It’s too heavy for us to pick up and carry, and it takes several tries until we both get in an advantageous position for moving it—we try both pulling, then both pushing, then me pushing and him pulling, then finally in reverse—before we make any headway at all.
Edmund is strong and in very good shape, and I’m no frail weakling. But it still takes an enormous exertion for both of us and is slow going even without counting the breaks we have to take to catch our breath.
We’ve been dragging it at an angle to get closer to our only source of water. Ideally, it should be right next to the spot where the stream runs out into the sand. When I suggest we shift our route to more of an angle, Edmund groans in frustration and pushes so hard I almost lose my balance.
“Hey!” I’ve stumbled slightly and lost my grip, but I don’t actually fall down.
“Sorry.”
“If you want to do this yourself, you’re more than welcome. But if we’re working together, you could at least try to consider me.”
“I consider you plenty,” he mutters, clearly in as grumpy a mood as I am at the moment. He’s flushed and breathing heavily and is slightly damp from perspiration.
Naturally, he still manages to look hot, whereas I am dripping with sweat and no doubt as red as a beet.
“You’re not considering me at all if you almost plowed over me with this thing.”
“I didn’t plow over you.”
“I said almost !” I lean over farther to get a better grip and then say, “Okay. I’m ready.”
We start moving again with the same agonizing slowness. There’s a big furrow in the sand from where we’ve dragged it so far and a much longer distance left to traverse until we’ve reached the level, shady spot I’ve identified as our end point.
He’s grunting with every step. It’s a rough, primitive sound that soon starts getting on my nerves.
Finally I burst out, “Do you have to sound like you’re passing a kidney stone!”
He stops moving. Straightens up. Stares at me in surprise.
“All that grunting,” I explain, trying not to gasp with every syllable. “Why do men always have to make any effort sound like it’s the hardest thing anyone has ever done?”
“Would you like to get back here and do what I’m doing?” He’s every bit as bad-tempered as I am or there wouldn’t be that bite in his tone. He’s usually so low-key and nonconfrontational about everything that it’s almost surprising.
“No! I understand your job is harder than mine, but you’re also six inches taller than me and a lot stronger. And still I’m managing to work in relative silence.”
“You really think you’re being silent right now?”
“No, not right now!” I’m so frustrated I want to scream, but I manage to tamp down the urge. “Right now we’re having a discussion!”
“Right now you’re biting my head off for no reason. Do you want to do this or not?”
“Yes, I want to do this! We’ve got to have some sort of shelter, or we’re not going to make it very long. Of course we need to do this.”
“So let’s do it.” He leans over again to get in position and eyes me impatiently.
I want to scream again—not least because he’s managing to be rational and arrogant while it feels like I’m about to fall apart. I use the last of my restraint to bite back another retort and stretch down to get a secure grip.
“Now,” he mutters, and I pull at the same time he pushes.
We make more sluggish progress. He must be attempting to refrain from the grunting because he’s quieter than he was before. It makes me feel guilty and petty. Why the hell did I lash out at him when he wasn’t doing anything wrong?
“I’m sorry,” I say on a taken breath. The apology comes without context or segue.
He evidently understands what I’m referring to anyway. “Don’t worry about it.”
He means it. I know he does. I suddenly want to cry for no good reason.
Instead, I focus on the motion of my body and fall into a weird sort of trance that’s made up of nothing but our coordinated heaves and each step I take on the loose sand.
I have no idea how long the trance lasts, but when I finally wake up from it, we’ve almost made it to our destination.
“Right here,” I gasp. “Where it’s flat and more secure from the tree roots.”
With a few final surges of effort, we get the large piece of boat into position with the opening toward the east so it won’t get the wind off the ocean or the full blast of the hot afternoon sun.
When we’re satisfied it’s stable, we both collapse on the sand beside it by mutual accord.
“That... that was... hell.” Edmund is stretched out his full length. He has a damp spot on the front of his shirt, and there’s sweat trickling down the sides of his face.
I’m likely in worse shape than he is. “That’s for sure. But hopefully it will be worth it. There’s no way we could ever find or build a better shelter than this.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. It was smart thinking.”
He means that as a compliment to me since it was my idea, and both of us know it. I manage a little smile at him. “And you handled most of the weight. So thank you for that.”
We fall into a more agreeable silence, and it’s several minutes before I feel capable of moving again. When I can, I go to the stream to cup more water to drink and splash on my face. Edmund has gotten up too and is doing the same while I start to investigate the inside of the section of boat to figure out how to clear it out.
It’s the very end of the bow, so there’s a curve in the bottom and it narrows down into a peak in the back. I start pulling out the loose debris that hasn’t already fallen out, and when Edmund comes back, he starts breaking off the attached pieces of wood from walls and shelves.
It doesn’t take as much physical exertion as getting it into place, but it still takes a while to clean out the interior until it’s basically a small, oddly shaped room where we can both sit or sleep or seek shelter.
I’m brushing out the last of the sand with Edmund’s overshirt, which he took off during the dragging session. He’s crouched down and peering in at me.
“This should work pretty good, shouldn’t it?” I ask him.
“Yeah. It’ll be great even if we have to wait a few days for them to find us.”
I’m not nearly as confident as he is that we’re going to be found, but he’s back to his typical warm, pleasant mood, so I hate to bring him down again.
I crawl back out and scowl up at the sun, which is high in the sky now and shining like its life depends on it. “Why does it have to be so hot?”
“Unfortunately, I’d say that’s probably the norm here.”
“I know. Ugh. If I didn’t have that sunscreen, I’d have first-degree burns all over my body now.”
Edmund pulled the tub over earlier, so I reach into it and grab the towels. There are of them, which is incredibly helpful. I drape them over our makeshift shelter so they can dry out in the sun.
“I don’t know about you,” Edmund says, pulling off his T-shirt, which used to be white but is now a dingy tan color from dirt and sweat and sand. “But I’m going to go cool off in the ocean since we’ve got water and shelter and protein bars, so we’re probably okay to rest for a while.”
I think about it for a few seconds and realize he’s right. I’ll feel better getting in the water—even if it’s salty ocean water. I pull off my loose, thin top since I have a tank top on underneath it.
Then I stare as Edmund blithely pulls off his shorts, standing right in front of me in only a pair of gray boxer briefs.
His body is lean and firm and very nicely formed. I have to fight not to peek at the outline of a shape at his groin. He’s not aroused of course, but I can definitely see something there.
He doesn’t appear a bit self-conscious or even aware that I’m a female in the vicinity of his mostly naked body. He starts walking in long strides toward the water.
I hesitate for only a moment before I pull off my shorts too. I’m wearing my panties, bra, and tank top, so I’m more covered than Edmund is.
He doesn’t think of me as a desirable woman anyway, so it won’t matter what I’m wearing. He dates models and TV stars and gorgeous, lithe beauties.
He’s not going to see anything he’s interested in with me.
With this clear in my mind, I follow him down the beach and start wading into the waves.
It’s cool but not cold, and it feels wonderful after the heat of the sun and all that exertion.
Edmund is already farther out, leaning back to submerge his whole head in the water. I have a brief thought about sharks or jellyfish or other nasties that might be lurking in the ocean depths.
I’ve gotten in the water countless times at other beaches. This one is probably fine too.
I wade out until the water is about chest level since I’d like to keep my body underwater. Edmund is swimming a leisurely backstroke. I do a kind of half hop, half flail to keep my head above water despite the moderate waves coming in.
I feel better. Cooler. More like myself and not like some stressed stranger who has walked into the pages of Robinson Crusoe or The Swiss Family Robinson .
Edmund and I could be at a beach anywhere in the world, simply having fun.
The mental gymnastics work for a while, so I’m more relaxed when I finally get tired and trudge through the water back up to the shore.
Edmund is still swimming, so he’s not watching me, which is a good thing since my tank and underwear are transparent and pasted to my body.
I’ve got big boobs, wide hips, and a round butt, so there’s a lot to be seen right now if he happens to be looking.
But he doesn’t see me that way, which should be a good thing since he’s been my employer for six years. It would be highly inappropriate if he’d been lusting after me all this time.
He’s kind of a wastrel, but he’s a good guy at heart, and he’s never treated people like objects. It’s one of the things I like about him, so I can hardly be disappointed that he’s not interested in taking a look.
I return to our shelter and use one of the towels to dry off. It isn’t fully dry, but it’s better than nothing. Then I take off my bra since it feels like a vise around my boobs and pull on my loose top instead. It’s long enough to cover my hips and panties.
I spread the towel out on the sand in the shade nearby and lie down on it, feeling cooler. Exhausted. And weirdly shaky.
I close my eyes and might actually have dozed off when Edmund’s voice startles me.
“You really should eat something.”
I blink. As odd as it sounds, I actually forgot about food until this very moment. My stomach is so rumbly from nerves that I didn’t even notice any hunger pangs. “Oh. Yeah. I guess we should.”
He’s opening a box of protein bars, and he throws me one. He spreads his towel out next to mine and sits on it in just his damp boxers.
We eat our small lunch in silence.
When we’re done, we go drink some water from the stream and then return to our towels.
“What should we do now?” I ask him, still jittery and at loose ends.
What the hell is a woman supposed to do in this position—stranded on an island with her hot, mostly clueless boss?
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to take a nap. I feel like I could crash right this second.”
“Oh.” I take a couple of breaths. “Okay. That’s probably a good idea.”
Edmund is already lying down with one arm folded above his head. His eyes are closed.
“I guess I’ll nap too.”
His mouth twitches, so I know he’s not asleep yet, but he doesn’t reply.
With nothing else available to fill my time, I lie back on the towel, comfortable in the shade of the trees, and close my eyes too.
I’m not a nap person. I’ve never been a nap person. But I’ve also never been as tired and stressed and helpless as I am right now.
It only takes me a minute to fall asleep.