A Change of Plans (15 page)

We shrugged off our life vests, and I sat there with a stupid grin as Braedon cleaned off the sand and blood, not even wincing at the sting of the salt water. Until he probed the cut.
I tried to pull away, but his strong hands held my head firmly in place.

“It’s stopped bleeding and is a pretty clean cut, if a little deep. Anything else hurt?” He scrutinized me through half-closed eyes.

“My lungs when I take deep breaths. My foot where a bird pecked me.”

Braedon examined my leg and found the two bruises on my foot. “It didn’t break the skin, but something else did here.” He examined a series of scratches along the back of my left knee. “You probably got that from a rock coming in.” He looked at me. “Do you know how lucky we are to be alive?”

My throat choked up, and all I could do was nod.

“Where’s Maria?” he asked.

With that, my momentary relief shattered. “I haven’t found her yet,” I whispered.

Braedon swore under his breath. “Which direction did you come from?”

I pointed, and we helped each other up. My balance was more stable than his was at first, probably because I had been conscious longer. Braedon used me for support, and we made our wobbly way down the beach in search of Maria.

I cried out as a sharp pain went through my foot.

“You okay?” Braedon held my elbow to steady me as I lifted my foot to remove my water shoe.

“It’s just a pebble.” I shook the shoe.

“I’ll be right back.” Braedon moved ahead to examine a small pool.

As I put my shoe back on, I noticed one of our water bottles on the beach. I went to pick it up and saw a few more bottles floating nearby among some seaweed debris. I stepped into
the surf to collect them. When I touched one of the bottles, my fingers tangled in some long, thin, black strands ... of hair. Maria floated face down in the water, camouflaged by seaweed.

“Braedon!” I dropped the bottles and tried to turn her over. “She wasn’t wearing a life vest. No. No.”

He splashed through the knee-deep water and felt for a pulse. Twisting away from her, he slammed his fist into the water and let out a roar.

Stunned, I stood in place, my tears frozen on my eyelids.

Braedon went still. With obvious effort, his breathing slowed and his tense shoulders relaxed. He turned to me, his face red, his eyes glistening. He put a dripping hand to his forehead and rubbed it.

The memory of his grief over Jimmy flashed through my mind. My throat tightened and tears ran down my cheeks. I stepped to his side and took his hand. He pulled me into his arms, and we held each other and cried. Finally, he stepped back and squeezed my hand. Together we gently grasped Maria’s cold, lifeless limbs and towed her body to the shore.

Seaweed stink didn’t help my fear of dead bodies, and I had to resist the urge to rush to the water and scrub my hands. I collected a fallen palm leaf and covered her swollen, distorted face.

I sank to the sand. First Jimmy and now Maria. Was Elle also dead? What about Jori?

Braedon sat beside me, placing his arm tentatively across my shoulders. He cleared his throat.

Glancing up at him, I asked. “Are they all dead?”

“We can’t think like that.”

I wiped the tears from my face. “What about us? Are we going to die here too?”

He exhaled and straightened, peering around, squinting against the glaring sun. “If we can find fresh water we should be okay.” He leaned forward and picked up one of the bottles I had dropped and handed it to me.

I took it and twisted off the lid, savoring the moisture as it ran down my parched throat. Braedon stood and took a drink, assessing the jungle behind us. He glanced back at Maria’s still form. “Let’s look for something to dig a grave with.”

A search turned up what was left of the catamaran in an indentation too small to be called a cove, but large enough to hide the hulk of the boat from our initial view. I wrote out a large SOS in dark volcanic rocks while Braedon scavenged the sail, a bucket, a damp first aid kit, one metal fork, a hammer, a sewing kit, a couple of knives, a small ax, a machete, and a lighter.

Braedon’s face was serious when he showed me the last item. “I haven’t had to make a fire from scratch in years, and I’m glad we don’t have to eat raw fish while I figure it out again.”

I
T WAS
hot, miserable work digging Maria’s grave. Sweat made the cut on my temple burn; I concentrated on the stinging rather than the purpose of our work. After we lowered her body into the hole and covered it with sand, I gathered some flowers and placed them on the mound.

“It’s not fair,” I sniffed.

“No, it’s not.” Braedon squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll carve something to mark her grave.”

Exhausted after the burial, we collapsed in the shade of
some trees bordering the beach and fell asleep. It was dark when the cool breeze off the ocean woke us.

“Mother Nature calls.” Braedon jogged toward the gloomy foliage.

Suddenly alone, I almost called him back. I peered at the jungle, its sinister shadows elongated by the moon shining through the lattice of leaves. The scent of nearby flowers nearly overpowered the smell of rich earth and rotting leaves.

Shivering, I decided to go to the water to freshen up. When I rose, shaking the water from my hands, I glanced up the dim shore. A white shape reflected the moon’s light near where we had napped. With trepidation, I approached it and discovered the white sail from the catamaran spread out on the sand.

I jumped when Braedon stepped out of the jungle, his hands full.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He set some water bottles by the sail. “Have a banana.” He handed me one along with a bottle of water and sat down to eat his own.

I joined him. “Not much variety in the food.” I unpeeled the banana.

He watched the waves glittering in the soft glow of the moon. “At least there is food.”

“Right again, Mr. Positive.” I tossed the peel into the jungle behind us and bit into the fruit.

His attention shifted to me. “Don’t.”

“Don’t
what
?”

Turning to stare back at the shore, his voice took on a deep sadness. “Dig at me like Maria.”

I thought of the mound of her grave around the curve of the beach. No longer hungry, I tossed the rest of the banana to the side. “Do you think anyone is still searching for us?”

“Probably, but we could be a long way from where they’re searching. At some point we need to be prepared to rescue ourselves.”

I swallowed. “Build our own boat?”

He turned his head, scrutinizing my face. “Does the idea bother you?”

I rubbed my forehead, avoiding my tender temple. “If nobody finds us, we’ll have to, but ... I keep having dreams of Jimmy being eaten.”

“I know,” Braedon replied softy.

I frowned, rubbing my arms against the cool breeze. “You know? How?”

“You talk in your sleep.” He lay down. “Our first priority is to survive here. We might luck out and get noticed by a plane or passing ship. In the meantime, we can make escape plans. Just in case.” He lifted a section of the sail in his hand and pulled it over himself. “I’m sorry there’s just the one sail. We’ll have to share again.”

I lay down, and he flipped the narrowed end of the triangular sail over me. My feet were still uncovered, and I had to scoot closer to him to fit them under as well.

What would it have been like if Braedon had died too? I allowed myself to savor his body being so close to mine, the warmth of his shoulder, the comfort it gave me. I moved my hand closer to him, my fingers brushing his.

I listened to the surf for a few minutes. Finally, I whispered, “I never realized before how noisy waves are. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep again.”

Braedon responded with a soft snore.

CHAPTER 15

S
OMETHING BRUSHED
my leg, and I jerked away. Terror cut through me like a shark’s tooth. I knew I lay on the beach, yet I felt as if I was underwater. I couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly warmth and security enveloped me, and my body unfroze. My lungs gasped in a breath of air, and my muscles relaxed. Safe. I was safe. I drifted back to sleep.

A bird cry startled me awake to bright sunshine. Braedon’s arm around my shoulders tightened. I raised my head from his shoulder, my face growing hot as I realized he was awake.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. He didn’t move.

I decided not to acknowledge his mirth, or my red face, and shifted to sit up. “How’s your head? Mine stings like the blazes.” I touched my tender temple.

He stood up. “It hurts.” His stomach growled. “We need something to eat besides bananas.”

I glanced at him through the corners of my eyes. “Hm. I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

Braedon eyed me, his eyebrows raised, but finally gave in and laughed. “All right, I deserved that.” He turned to study the
long stretch of beach. “If this island doesn’t have a source of fresh water, we’ll need to capture rainwater.” It had rained on us during the night. Twice.

“What do you want to do first?”

He squinted over his shoulder in the direction of the wreck. “I need to get a couple of things from the catamaran. And we should check how far the other side of the island goes in case we’re not alone here.”

“Do you need help with the stuff on the boat? If not, I can see what’s around the cove there.” I pointed toward a curve on the beach opposite from where we had found Maria’s body.

I took one step before he grabbed my hand. “Don’t go too far, okay?”

Even now, my hand tingled where he touched me, and I pulled it away quickly. How stupid was I? This wasn’t the time to reconsider something I had already walked away from.

The beach curved around the point of an overgrown hill of sorts and continued on a ways, stopping abruptly. I didn’t have to walk very far to see there wasn’t more to the island on that side. A long, skinny valley bit into the backside of the mountain, making the edge between it and the beach resemble an arm.

I returned to the catamaran. “The beach ends back there, and there’s nothing but ocean beyond it,” I called. “I didn’t see any signs of people. I’ll check the other direction.”

He looked over the edge of the boat. “I’ll join you when I’m done here.”

The pristine beach curved along a wider, lower overgrown hill on the other side. A tall mountain rose into the air from the island, the front half sheared off. Maybe from an earthquake? That thought didn’t give me any comfort. I kicked at the white
sand. The island was old, probably remnants of a dead volcano. Under different circumstances, it would have made for a lovely vacation spot.

The island’s oblong shape had a leg at the far end where the beach split to allow water into the jungle. The sand began again a few feet beyond. Curious, I examined the deep water and then peered at the jungle vines hanging just above the inlet, wondering what they hid.

I peeked through the thin curtain of foliage and stared at a circular lagoon. Vegetation of varying shades of green sheltered the encircling beach, but the sun shone on a good portion of the water. A thrill rushed through me, and I danced back and forth. A waterfall. I needed to tell Braedon.

As I turned, he shouted my name from the beach, and I dashed through the curtain of vines. He spun to face me as I came through the foliage.

“Lyn,” he breathed. “Don’t disappear like that.”

He had been worried about me? Of course he would be. I would be worried about him. Who would want to be stuck here alone? “I’m sorry I scared you.” I grasped his hand and pulled him toward the vines. “Wait until you see what I found.”

Braedon paused at the entrance, his eyes zeroing in on the waterfall. “Well, my Gwendolyn, this almost makes up for the fright you just gave me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you call me?”

The hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t look at me. “Gwendolyn.”

“I did mention I don’t like that name, didn’t I?”

“So? I like it.”

I wanted to argue further, but something in his manner
reminded me of that half dream’s comfort. Plus, from the set of his jaw, I wasn’t sure he would have done what I asked anyway.

I shook my finger at him. “If you ever—and I mean ever— call me ‘Gwen,’ I will hurt you.”

He did grin then and stepped closer to the lagoon, pointing at the fish. “This is perfect. I can build a simple fish trap here. Much easier than trying to catch them out in the surf.”

I moved beside him. “How do you build a fish trap?”

“I can show you later if you want. It’s an old Native American trick my father taught me.”

“We’ll have more options than just fish. See how dark the blue is on that end? It’s deep there. With the fresh and salt water combining, it should be a good spot for mussels and oysters.” I scrambled up the rocks next to the waterfall, bent to the water, and scooped some into my mouth. I sighed. “Pure Adam’s Ale.”

Braedon sat beside me, our legs almost touching, and we stuck our hands in the stream of water and drank until we were full.

“How does a girl from Colorado know so much about mussels and oysters?”