“Gone,” murmured Valentine; “adieu, my sweet Haidee--adieu, my sister!”
“Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?” said Morrel with
tearful eyes.
“Darling,” replied Valentine, “has not the Count just told us that all
human wisdom is summed up in two words?--’Wait and hope’.”
Wait and hope. I agree, there’s not much else left for us to do.
***
“How was the climb?” Connor asks me once I’m back at the camp.
“Piece of cake,” I lie.
At least there’s no sweat to give the lie away, since coming down was ten times easier.
“So you wouldn’t mind doing it every day?”
My face must show my horror at the thought, because I see the hint of an impudent smirk appear on his lips.
“No problem at all,” I lie again, my pride getting the best of me. “I’ll take a bath before dinner, and I need to wash these clothes.”
“Why? Did you break a bit of a sweat?” He raises the mocking eyebrow at me.
“Not one drop, but I need to get rid of the dust.”
“Sure you do,” he says, unconvinced.
I glower at him.
“Tomorrow it’ll be better,” he teases.
I shrug. “If you will excuse me.” I fake politeness and walk away with a big smile. I’m glad the awkwardness of this morning is gone, and that we’re back to our usual bantering selves.
16
Night 47
After dinner, I say goodnight immediately. I still feel a little bit skittish, and I’m not in the mood for small talk. As the sun begins to set, I feel a little too self-conscious about going “to bed” with Connor. I know it’s stupid. We’ve slept together—literal meaning—for almost two months now and nothing has ever happened. But honestly after today I feel as if something has shifted in our relationship. Yes, we are back to the jokes and the fake hating, but it will not be easy to forget the way he was looking at me on the beach. Or the way I felt before I knew there was a spider taking a walk up my back. I shiver a little at the memory.
Joanna, be serious, you are a married woman. Right. I’m just being silly and I probably imagined the whole thing. I mean, it’s not like he actually tried anything. He was only helping me calm down in a moment of arachnid-induced craziness, nothing more. I’m just confused. At this point in my life I was supposed to be starting a family with Liam, and instead here I am, lost in the middle of nowhere. Well, I’m sorry, ovaries—you will have to wait until we are rescued, and at least Manny is here to satisfy my growing maternal instincts.
When I get back to the hut I lie down on my side—right one—close my eyes, and rest my head on the Prada-bag-stuffed-in-sweater pillow. I try to sleep, but without much success. My body is tense and alert as I wait for Connor to join me. I have my eyes closed, but I’m wide awake. When he comes in, my body stiffens even further. I keep my eyes firmly shut, but I’m very conscious of his every movement. I feel him lying down beside me, and his gaze grazes my skin. In my mind’s eye I imagine him propped on one elbow, staring at me.
Unexpectedly, he caresses my forehead, pushing back a lock of hair and sending a shiver through my entire body. It takes all my willpower not to move. He was looking at me. I hear him sigh and finally lie down. I should relax now, but I can’t. I’m very aware of his body next to mine. His bicep is slightly brushing against my back in this cramped space, and it feels as if an excess of heat is coming from the connection.
Joanna, stop! I concentrate, trying to think about Liam… I think about the first time I saw him. I was expecting your typical nerdy writer with hideous clothes and bad hair. I wasn’t ready for the tall, handsome man who appeared in front of me. He was so sexy, so elegant. I was instantly in love, and that was before he even talked. I remember getting goose bumps all over the first time I heard his husky, low voice, and he had merely said “Liam Grady, nice to meet you.”
I think about my secret infatuation for him. When I had a meeting with him, I would spend hours getting ready, selecting the perfect outfit, doing my hair, my make-up, and making sure I looked my best. I remember how badly I tried to remain cool and professional with him, almost detached, while I felt the exact opposite.
Then there was the night when we made love for the first time. It was very late, and we were the only ones left in the building. We were working on his novel as usual. I’d just had a great idea to improve a chapter, and when I lifted my eyes to tell Liam, I caught him staring at me with a predatory expression that melted my insides for good. He stood up from his chair and, without saying anything, took me in his arms and kissed me senseless. I don’t know if it was the fact that we were in a public office, or that I had months of suppressed feelings that demanded satisfaction, but that was the most intense night of my entire life.
After the passion, I think about the romance in our relationship and my thoughts immediately wander to Liam’s proposal on Christmas Eve. What I remember best from that evening is the sensation of warmth I felt. Liam had orchestrated everything to perfection. He had made the perfect dinner, with the perfect music, and he gave me the perfect gift. We were standing next to his wall-wide windows with a magnificent view of snowy Chicago in the background, and his giant Christmas tree on one side. He put in my hands this tiny red velvet jewelry box, and I immediately knew he was about to propose. I read the note that said:
Just say yes!
When I lifted my eyes from the card, I watched with a pounding heart as Liam kneeled in front of me. He took the box from my hands and asked me, “Joanna Price, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” I followed the instructions and just said, “Yes!”
In my excursion down memory lane, I finally walk down the aisle to meet Liam on our wedding day. That was one of the last times I saw him! I try to remember his vow. We had decided to write our own, and his promise to me was the most romantic tearjerker that I’ve ever heard. Being a writer, Liam knows his way with words. In that moment at the altar, I felt like the luckiest woman on the planet. As I mentally repeat his words, I feel the warmth spread back through me all over again. I love my husband. Today I did the right thing. I could never cheat on him. As I reach this conclusion, I finally sense my body relaxing. All the tension in my muscles eases, and I’m finally able to drift into an untroubled sleep.
17
Day 75
I splash around in the lake, hardly able to contain my tears. I’m bathing after coming back from my daily hike and I’m feeling really low. No, nothing bad happened. I’m just being emotional. It’s my birthday, and even if I usually don’t like to make a fuss of the occasion, today it’s making me feel lonelier than ever. I can’t help but think about how different it was last year. I had Sunday brunch with all my family at my parents’ house. All the people I loved the most were there: Liam, my best friends, and a few colleagues. It was an incredibly warm day for March in Chicago; the sun was shining, and everything felt perfect. It was a very simple celebration. Good food, good laughs, and good company.
The memory is heartening on the one hand, and incredibly dispiriting on the other. I can’t help but think none of my loved ones will be here to celebrate with me today. I wonder when—if—I will have another day like that. It’s been more than two months since the plane crash, and no one has come for us. Have they given up on me? Do they think I’m dead? Another painful pang makes my heart contract. It’s hard for me, but it must be even harder for them. My family and friends must feel about me the same way I feel about Liam. My pulse accelerates, and I have to shake the idea away. I can’t think about Liam being gone. It’s just not possible, so I will not torture myself obsessing about the worst. I have to believe the plane made it safely to shore and that everybody else is safe.
I sink my entire head below the water surface to drown all the bad thoughts. I stay underwater as long as I can without breathing; it always helps to calm me down. When I reemerge, I feel a l
ot more serene. I get out of the water and lie on my favorite rock, bathing in the last sun rays of the day. Once I’m dry, I get dressed and walk back towards the beach. Disgusting snappers, here I come. But as I emerge from the jungle, I’m in for a big surprise.
“You remembered!” I exclaim, taking in the scene before my eyes. I’m touched and close to tears again. Connor has adorned our fire camp with flowers, leaves, and fruits. He has made a tiny table for two with some wood sticks and has lain it with lush green leaves, more flowers, and two huge lobsters.
“Happy birthday!” He smiles at me.
“This is beautiful! Thank you, you didn’t have to.” I sit on the sand in front of the “table,” which is very short; we’re going to eat Japanese style. “When did you do all this?”
“It’s nothing. It took only five minutes. I prepared everything while you were taking your bath.”
I seriously doubt it took only five minutes, but I’m not calling him out.
“Should we start?” I ask as my stomach grumbles with anticipation.
I get a positive grunt in reply, and I don’t need any more encouragement to tuck into my dinner.
“Mmm, this is delicious!” I moan.
“Don’t get used to it. Tomorrow night it’s snappers again.”
“Don’t ruin my dinner, please—the you-know-what shall not be named tonight!” I order, savoring every bite of my lobster.
“I’m afraid there’s no cake, just a fruit salad as dessert,” Connor says when we’re finished eating the main course.
“Ah, so you know how to peel fruit.” I squint my eyes at him.
“Hoo, hoo.” Manny jumps in. He doesn’t care for snappers or shellfish, but he craves fruit.
“Here, baby.” I share some bits with him.
“You’re spoiling that monkey. He needs to learn how to get food on his own.”
“Are you finally interested in co-parenting him?”
“Heck no. Here, take this.” Connor hands me a green parcel. “Be careful, it’s fragile.”
I take the bundle in my hands and see that it’s a wrap made of leaves. “What is this?”
“It wouldn’t be a birthday without a gift, would it? It’s not fancy, but as they say it’s the thought that counts.” He smiles.
I carefully unwrap the leaves, removing the various green layers to reveal the most beautiful necklace. The chain is made with the same brown vine we use for every ligature. Whereas the body of the necklace is a single beautiful seashell and one turquoise bead.
“Connor, this is beautiful. When did you make it?” I’m stunned.
“Today,” he says, shrugging. “It’s not like I had much else to do.”
I put the necklace on and tie it behind my neck. “And where did you learn how to make necklaces? Isn’t it a bit girly?” I tease him with a smile.
“We country boys know how to get a woman’s attention, but I have to admit that before today the most I had produced was a daisy bracelet in high school.”
“Well, it’s gorgeous.”
“I also made you this.” He gives me a rudimental comb made of mother of pearl. “So you can stop complaining about your hair all the time.”
I take it from him, and I’m touched. “Thank you—thank you for this entire night.”
I pass the comb through my knotted hair and take my time to untangle it.
“You should take a picture.” I pass him my phone and smile as he takes a quick shot.
“Now we should take a selfie together. Get up—it’s difficult if you sit down.”
Connor complies and comes next to me.
“Hoo.”
“Of course you can be in the picture too.”
I pick Manny up and he sits on my shoulder. We smile for the camera as Connor takes a couple of hilarious selfies.
I put Manny down and take the phone to see the pictures. “These are great! Thank you,” I say once again. “I was really in a mood today, and I needed something like this to cheer me up.” I walk toward him and hug him. The electrical twinkles that immediately go through my body suggest this wasn’t a great idea.
I like him. There’s no denying it at this point. I mean, he’s attractive and everything. Yes, rugged, but definitely handsome. But it’s not just that. He’s also a good person—a bit grumpy, a touch indelicate, and he drives me crazy more often than not, but I respect him. I’ve come to care for him, and I think he cares about me too. Which is good, but also bad. I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking to it. Nothing is going to happen between us, but nights like this don’t make it any easier.
I’m also afraid of hurting him. I mean, off this island I’ll have a husband to go back to, but Connor? Not so much. And somehow the idea of introducing him to Ashlynn has lost all its appeal. He’ll have to find someone on his own. I just hope that when—and I’m not saying if, because there’s no way I will spend the rest of my life here—we will be back in the civilized world, the magnifying effect that is making everything so intense here will fade away. Connor will realize it was only the circumstances that made him like me, and the same goes for me. My attraction to him comes from loneliness and the crazy desert-island-with-a-stranger scenario. It has to.
18
Day 99
I’ve got ninety-nine problems but the troll ain’t one, I sing in my head. On the other hand, mornings like this make it very easy to stick to my resolution.
“Come on, don’t take it personally. It was meant like a nice thing,” said troll announces.
“In what universe is suggesting that a woman do nasal rinses with salt water to reduce her snoring considered a nice thing?” It’s breakfast time, and the day didn’t start in the best of ways.
“I’m just saying you probably have congestion, and that if you want to breathe better you should try it—it works. But if you’re so fond of your sinusitis, keep it.”
“Whatever.”
“If the snoring lady will excuse me,” Connor says with mocking gallantry, “I will go fishing.”
I watch him go from under my frown. The sexual tension between us is unbearable. You could cut it with a knife, and since the only release we can have is through words, our arguments have escalated both in intensity and frequency. I’m losing my mind a bit. I want to slap him, kiss him, and kick him in the shins all at the same time.
I’m angry with myself for the way I feel. I have this major guilt complex toward Liam, and I’m taking it out on Connor. I should go apologize. I do have nasal congestion, and it’s killing me. I hate it when I can’t breathe properly. He’s right. I should try the seawater.
Connor is perched on a rock. He’s using a long, thin wood pole to fish, and he seems concentrated on catching those snappers. He’s wearing only his cargo pants. Mmm, his naked, tanned chest is not helping. I study him. After three months spent here, his already long hair has grown to shoulder length, and it’s even more sun-bleached. He manages to shave almost decently with the switchblade, and he does it once a week, but he let his hair grow. He shaved yesterday, so today he barely has a five o’clock shadow visible. Definitely not helping.
I climb next to him, and clear my throat to let him know I’m here. “I wanted to apologize for earlier,” I say before I can change my mind. “I was wrong and you were right. I have a bit of a breathing problem, and I will try the nasal rinse.”
He turns towards me with a grin, his cocky eyebrow raised. “Did I just hear you say you were wrong?”
I’m mentally preparing my comeback when something pinches me in the foot. I look down and register that there’s a brown-green crab on my left foot. Crabs belong to a category dangerously close to spiders. I instinctively shake it away with a scream, and lose my footing in the process. The next few seconds seem to happen as if in slow motion. I stumble backward toward the beach. Connor jumps up to catch me before I fall. I grab his arms to steady myself, but my momentum is too strong and I end up hauling him down after me.
I land on the sand below, and t
he impact leaves me winded. Connor lands on top of me, pressing my body between the wet sand and his naked chest. My legs are in the water, tangled with his, and the waves are brushing my back as they come and go. Connor’s face is inches away, his eyes locked onto mine. My pulse accelerates. Talk about a sex on the beach fantasy. I stop breathing altogether as Connor slowly leans in. I can’t do this. I panic and quickly jerk my face to the right to the sight of blood in the water.
“You’re bleeding!” I exclaim, and take my excuse to wriggle out from under him in the least awkward way possible.
“It’s nothing.” He kneels on the sand, submerging his wounded hand in the water, making it turn a deeper shade of red.
“It’s not nothing—let me see.” I take his hand in mine to analyze the damage. He has a deep gash on the palm, right under the thumb. “I’m sorry.” I look at him, hoping he will know I’m not just talking about the hand. “Did you leave any of the needles from my sewing kit straight?”
“Why?” he asks, somewhat alarmed.
“That cut needs a couple of stiches.”
“And what makes you think I’d let you do it?”
“It’s on your right hand, so it’s not like you have any better option. Plus, I’m qualified to do it.”
“How come?”
“My dad’s a veterinarian, remember? He taught me.”
“You mean you only tried it on animals?”
“The skin’s the same—don’t be such a girl. Wait here and keep your hand in the water. I’ll be back in a sec.”
I find my sewing kit in the hut, disinfect a needle with one of the lighters, and go back to the beach where Connor is waiting.
“Come here,” I tell him.
He does as he’s told with a frown. I sit down and place his hand on my left thigh over my wet pants. The water has slowed the blood, but the cut definitely needs stitches. “It will hurt a bit, but nothing you can’t handle.”
He flinches from time to time as I work on his wound, but he mostly handles it like a real man.