Uncharted (24 page)
“We are not.” Susan gathered the dress into a bundle and tucked it under her arm. “I don’t know where it came from, but I found it. You’re not touching it.”
“If it can help us—”
“It can help
me
.” Susan closed her eyes, realizing that already she was suffering the effects of
ugly
. Lisa had never treated her like an unreasonable child; no one had.
“If I have to face the others like this”—Susan positioned her hand so all five splayed fingers pointed to her disfigured cheek—“then you have to let me keep this small—this bit—”
Of beauty
.
Before Lisa could argue again, Susan turned and began hobbling back to the others.
Lisa’s mind whirled as her friend hurried away. Something had snapped, she realized; some mental connection in Susan’s brain had loosened and probably wouldn’t be restored until she was safely cocooned in her Houston palace.
Lisa’s hand rose to her own face, her fingers deftly checking to be sure the skin was whole and her features untouched. Her skin was chafed and tender, but she hadn’t been disfigured.
Thank God.
She watched to be sure Susan made it safely past the curve of the beach, then she shook her head and returned to her task.
If Susan had been a little less sheltered, maybe she’d be stronger now. While Lisa had never known wealth or privilege, she
had
known hard work and constant strain . . . so maybe that explained why she was able to pick through a garbage dump without complaining.
She straightened her shoulders as she nudged a pile of wet clothing. By the time this adventure was over, maybe Kevin would realize that strength lay not in beauty or talent, but in dedicated, constant care. If he wanted love, he had only to look in her direction. She had demonstrated her love for her parents by caring for them; she would care for him just as selflessly . . .
The clothing was a group of men’s long-sleeved dress shirts. Lisa picked one up, gingerly holding it between her thumb and index finger. It seemed to be in good shape. An idea bloomed in her brain. She shook as much sand as possible from the fabric, then sat on the beach and spread the buttoned garment on the sand. Placing her bare right foot squarely in the center of the shirt, she rolled the upper portion over the top of her foot and wrapped the shirttail up around her heel. She then grabbed the long sleeves, crossed them behind her ankle, then tied them tightly at the front of her leg.
Perfect. A two-layered boot.
Satisfaction pursed her mouth as she tied another shirt onto her left foot. She stood and took a couple of experimental steps, then covered her mouth to keep from shouting. This would work. The shirts wouldn’t protect much against large rocks, but if she could find only eight more shirts, everyone would be able to walk without flinching.
She scurried from heap to heap, and within minutes she found more than enough shirts for the group. Two of them were made of heavy cotton duck; she would give those to Kevin.
With her arms loaded, she strode back to the camp. Despite her exhilaration, a dart of jealousy struck as she approached. Susan lay curled on the sand, her injured cheek pillowed by her hand, the gold dress locked within her arms. Kevin was using a faded Frisbee to dig a trench; Karyn sat near him on a sand-encrusted blanket. They were speaking in low, confidential tones—not the sort of thing Lisa would expect from ex-spouses.
She dropped her haul and summoned a grin that felt less than genuine. “Here. There’s all kinds of stuff a little farther down, but I thought you’d want these right away. Look, Kevin”—she tossed the heaviest shirts in his direction—“now you can have boots.”
Kevin smiled appreciatively. “Thanks. We heard about the dump.”
Karyn held up one of the shirts. “Couldn’t you find anything waterproof?”
Lisa laughed to cover her annoyance. “Gee, K, I saw a dozen Burberry raincoats in a crate, but I thought I’d leave them for the Salvation Army to pick up.”
Karyn lowered the shirt and frowned at Lisa over the collar. “No need to be testy. We need rainproof material if we’re going to construct a shelter.”
Wasn’t she even
listening
? They had shoes, and she wanted to talk about the weather?
“You planning on doing a rain dance, K?”
“Clouds usually bring rain, and if there’s one thing this island has, it’s plenty of clouds.”
Lisa swallowed her exasperation and turned, pretending to study the swell of the waves. What had happened with these two? Kevin and Karyn were barely speaking at David’s funeral, so why were they so chummy now?
Karyn
ought to be out there digging through trash, but no, K was the group’s prima donna, the one with
talent
. Susan was the beauty, Mark the brawn, David the delicate genius . . .
She refused to be the workhorse.
“I’m done.” Lisa sank cross-legged to the sand. “If you want to look for raincoats, I suggest you turn left and walk a mile or two. You can’t miss the place.”
Karyn closed her eyes and opened her mouth in an exaggerated gesture of disbelief.
Lisa rolled her eyes. Kevin, she noticed, didn’t jump to Karyn’s defense.
“Well,” Karyn finally said, “apparently I have managed to step on someone’s toes. I can’t imagine what I’ve done—”
“Maybe it’s what you
haven’t
done,” Lisa answered. “Maybe you’ve sat here doing nothing while I’ve been out getting hammered by the wind and the sun and this aggravating sand—”
“The wind blew here too,” Kevin said, his gaze catching Lisa’s. “None of us has gotten off easy, okay?”
Lisa swallowed hard as her cheeks burned. She had to get hold of herself, had to keep her act together. Kevin would never take her seriously if he thought she was playing the martyr.
“I’m sorry. Really.” Karyn reached out to brush some of the sand from Lisa’s arm. “I’ll go with you next time you head out. And thanks for the shirts. Those booties are a great idea.”
Lisa pressed her lips together and accepted the compliment, wishing it had come from Kevin.
Karyn transferred her gaze to Susan, who had unwrapped part of the gold dress and pulled the sheer outer skirt over her face. “What
is
that she’s carrying?”
Lisa lowered her voice. “She found it in the water. It reminds her of a dress from one of her pageants or something. She’s attached to it.”
“Obviously
.
” Karyn hesitated, then sent Lisa a piercing look. “You don’t think—”
Lisa silently circled her index finger at the side of her temple.
She’s lost it.
Karyn nodded thoughtfully, then leaned toward Lisa and spoke in a rough whisper. “I wouldn’t doubt it, after all she’s been through.”
“What
we’ve
been through, you mean. As Kevin pointed out, this hasn’t been a picnic for any of us.”
“It’s harder for her, though,” Karyn insisted. “She’s lost her identity, don’t you see? And what’s more, I’m not sure she can get it back.”
Lisa stared, uncomprehending, until Karyn silently lifted her hand to touch her cheek and nose.
Lisa let out a deep sigh and tunneled her fingers through her hair. Of course, they must have seen Susan’s face when she came into the camp and settled down. The woman’s precious beauty had been shattered, but so what? She was lucky to be alive. They should all be thankful God had spared their lives.
Now, if He would only send a rescue party . . .
A thirst of all the devils
.
The phrase popped unbidden into Karyn’s head, bringing with it the memory of a hot summer morning on a Caribbean beach. The beach was easy enough to place, because she, Kevin, and Sarah had vacationed in the Bahamas only once, but where had she first heard that phrase?
She pondered the question for a moment, then shrugged. She’d probably read the words in one of the three or four books she’d read on that vacation trip. Sarah had been four that year, and far more interested in exploring the hotel game room with her father than sitting on the sand—
soft
sand—with Mom. Karyn spent most of her time reading because Kevin had been focused on the company’s acquisition of a smaller candy company. He had put work aside long enough to play with Sarah, but he’d shifted back into preoccupation when he was with Karyn, an attitude that suited her well in those days.
A thirst of all the devils.
She glanced at Kevin, who seemed intent on tunneling to middle earth. The plan, he had explained earlier, was to dig a hole deep enough to strike water. They’d then build a fire to heat rocks. When the rocks were hot, they’d roll the rocks into the trough and hold a porous cloth over the hole to absorb steam. The water they would wring out of the cloth would be salt-free and safe to drink.
An awful lot of work for precious little liquid,
Karyn wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she squinted up at him. “How’d you learn how to do this?”
He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I saw it on the Discovery Channel, okay?”
As he continued to dig, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees and stared toward the center of the island. Surely Mark would have more luck finding water in the jungle. From here she could see the tops of what looked like banana trees and bamboo, and she was sure those plants held water. Hollywood action heroes were always hacking at bamboo and drinking from the cut stalks like they were natural water fountains.
Until Mark returned, she’d try not to think about the tightness in her throat and the leathery feel of her lips. She’d be more comfortable in a sauna.
She ran her hand over her arms, which were crusty with dried sea salt. Her skin couldn’t even muster a sweat.
A thirst of all the devils.
She shifted and focused on the sea, where the waves rolled toward her in a lazy rhythm. Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink, wasn’t that the old saying? What could it hurt if she went in and splashed off to cool her sunburned skin? And if she happened to swallow a little seawater, surely there’d be no permanent damage . . .
She stood, brushed the sand from her black slacks, and walked toward the waves, feeling slightly ridiculous in her dress shirt booties.
“K?”
She ignored Kevin’s call.
“Karyn?”
Frustrated, she whirled. “What?”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She took another step and gestured to the water. “I’m going to cool off.”
Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You want
another
layer of salt on your skin?”
She hesitated, torn between reason and comfort. “But I’m hot.”
“We’re all hot. But salt water isn’t going to help you.”
She lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the scorching rays that somehow managed to penetrate the cloud bank. “I’m parched.”
“Seawater’s
definitely
not going to help.” He stood and took a step toward her. “Come on, I need you to bring me some rocks.”
She lowered her hand and looked down the beach. They’d been apart ten years, but he still thought he could order her around. She ought to run into the water just to prove that she no longer had to listen to him, but he was probably right. Kevin was nearly always right.
She blew out a breath. “How big a rock do you want?”
He held his open hands a few inches apart. “Football size, I think. And not too heavy.”
She transferred her gaze to Lisa, who was watching with undisguised interest. Lisa might still be irritated, but Karyn felt she would still do anything Kevin wanted. “You want to help me gather rocks?”
Lisa hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll help, but let’s work separately. We’ll cover more territory that way.”
Of course. Why share Kevin’s approval when she could have it all to herself? “Fine.” Karyn waved Lisa away, then limped off in the opposite direction.
After fighting his way through the vegetation in the center of the island, Mark found himself on another stretch of beach. So . . . the island was a small one, probably no more than a couple of miles in circumference. No wonder no one had built a permanent settlement here.
