Mango Crush

by Bill H Myers

  Maybe Abby had found one of those for me. If she had, it'd be fine. As long as I wasn't in the hospital, I'd be happy.

  We were just about a mile south of middle beach, the lone area of the island untouched by man, a tropical jungle with tall palms and stunted pines. Abby pointed to a lone mailbox on a post just ahead. “That's our turn.”

  She slowed the minivan and pulled onto a narrow crushed shell driveway that wound its way to a small one-story home sitting on a slight rise. To the right of the house, an unattached building that looked like a workshop.

  Abby pulled up close to the front door, killed the engine and said, “We're home. Let me give you the tour.”

  She got out, came over to my side of the car and opened the door for me. I had unbuckled my seat belt and was going to get out on my own, but since she was there to help me, I took her hand and let her.

  Holding my hand, she led me to the home's front door. Instead of opening it, she turned around to face the narrow driveway we had just come in on and said, “Check out the privacy. All these trees between us and the road. You can't hear any traffic and can't see any neighbors.”

  She was right; the place was private. A perfect location for a murder mystery. No witnesses and no one to hear a scream. I wasn't sure why this thought popped into my head, but it had.

  Abby didn't seem to notice. She let go of my hand and reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. She slipped it into the lock and pushed the door open.

  She pointed to the inside and said, “Age before beauty.”

  Normally I'd reply with a snide comment since I wasn't much older, but I was feeling a little dizzy and just wanted to get inside and sit down.

  I stepped into the short hallway and took a few steps. The lights weren't on, and it was too dark for me to see the layout of the place. I stopped and waited for Abby to catch up.

  She was right behind me and quickly flipped on the lights. Old style incandescent bulbs that lit the place with a warm, welcoming glow.

  The first thing I noticed was the hardwood floors. They looked to be light oak and well worn. Where the floors ended, the pine paneling on the walls took over. I touched the wall and confirmed that the paneling was real wood, not the cheap sawdust knockoffs they sell these days.

  Looking up, I saw that the ceilings were also wood, probably cypress. Thick beams crisscrossed above, giving the place a sturdy feel. Overall, the home looked like it was well built, perhaps put together by a master craftsman.

  On the wall just inside the front door, a rustic sign read, “Welcome to our beach shack.”

  Abby gave me time to take it all in then asked, “Ready for the tour?”

  I was.

  She pointed to a door on my left. “That's your bedroom. It has a private bath stocked with everything I think you'll need. There's a small closet, but nothing in it yet. When I bring in your clothes, we'll hang them there.”

  Looking into the bedroom, I could see that it was sparsely furnished. A single bed with a high window above, a chest of drawers and a small desk. Everything looked to be vintage but in good condition. The room would suit me just fine.

  Abby grabbed my hand and continued the tour.

  “Across from the bedroom is the kitchen. It's not big but has everything we'll need. Stove, microwave and fridge. It even has a small pantry.”

  She pointed to a door on the other side of the kitchen. “That leads to the second bedroom. I'll be staying there.”

  I nodded. The doctor had said “no sex,” and it looked like Abby was going to make sure we abided by that rule, by having us sleep in separate rooms.

  She led me away from the kitchen into the main living area. About twenty feet deep and thirty feet wide. Not big but cozy. Like the hallway, there was wood everywhere. Floors, walls, and ceilings.

  The wall farthest away, the one that probably led outside, had floor-to-ceiling drapes extending the full width of the room. Abby walked over and pulled one of the curtains back. The view was breathtaking.

  A sliding glass door behind the drape led to a wide deck with the waters of the Gulf of Mexico beyond. The wood on the deck looked weathered but not enough to be of concern.

  While I was taking in the view, Abby opened the rest of the curtains. Behind each, a floor-to-ceiling sliding glass door.

  With all the curtains opened, there was an uninterrupted view of the beach and the ocean beyond. The blue sky, the white sand, and the gentle waves were picture perfect.

  It was easy to see why whoever built this place chose the location and included the wall of glass.

  I was still a bit dizzy, and even though I wanted to go out on the deck, I looked for a place to sit. To my left, I saw two well-worn recliners arranged to give a view out over the deck. Between them, a small table with a reading lamp.

  In the center of the room, a fabric-covered couch stood against the paneled wall. Facing the ocean, it would be a perfect place to take a nap.

  Because I was tired, I headed to the couch. I wanted to see if it was comfortable enough to sleep on.

  But before I got to it, Abby took my hand and said, “There's still one more room you need to see.”

  She led me to a set of glass doors that opened back toward her bedroom and the kitchen. Beyond the doors was a small room set up as an office and library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books. In the center of the room, a desk with a well-worn rolling chair. A small lamp on the desk to provide light for anyone working there.

  To the right of the desk, jalousie windows, the kind with individual glass panels. Abby cranked the window open and said, “When the deck doors are open, these windows pull in the ocean air.”

  I nodded like I understood. The office was nice, the bedrooms were well placed, and the main living area with the curtains drawn open was spectacular. Clearly, the floor plan of the beach shack had been well thought out and likely reflected the tastes of whoever built it.

  I wanted to see more but was too tired to continue. I had to sit.

  I let go of Abby's hand, walked back into the living room and headed to the couch. As I sat, Abby opened all the sliding doors overlooking the beach. The sounds of the ocean and seabirds surrounded us.

  I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh salt air. It was a welcome change from the sterile environment of the hospital.

  Abby saw I was tired, and she let me sit as she made her way through the cabin, opening all the windows.

  When she returned, she said, “You might as well settle in because we're going to be here for a while.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I must have dozed off because when I woke, the sun was lower on the horizon and the breeze coming off the gulf was cooler than it had been earlier. I looked around and saw Abby sitting in one of the recliners, reading an old Look magazine.

  When she saw that I was awake, she asked, “You hungry? You want me to fix you something?”

  I definitely was hungry. But I didn't want Abby to feel like she needed to wait on me hand and foot, so I said, “I'll check the fridge. I want to see what we have.”

  I slowly sat up, letting the dizziness settle a bit before I stood. When I was sure I wouldn't fall and make a fool of myself, I headed to the kitchen. Abby followed.

  I opened the fridge and saw she had stocked it with plenty of healthy foods. Salads, vegetables, bottled water and what looked like salmon fillets from Publix.

  Moving things around, I found a block of cheddar cheese. I grabbed it and headed to the pantry to see if I could find some crackers.

  Finding a box of Triscuits, I looked through the overhead cabinets until I found a small plate.

  I lined up twelve crackers on the plate and covered each with a slice of cheese. I put the plate in the microwave and set it for fifteen seconds.

  When it was done, I took the cheese and crackers over to the kitchen table and sat.

  I looked up at Abby and said, “I made us a snack. Come join me.”

  She smiled, happy that I wa
s strong or stubborn enough to care for myself, at least for the moment.

  She joined me, and we sat at the table eating cheese and crackers. When we'd finished, she asked the question I was hoping she would.

  “What do you want to do next?”

  I could have given her several answers, but I only had one thing on my mind. I said, “I want to go look for Bob. I can't leave him out there. No man or cat left behind.”

  Abby didn't say anything. She just looked at me with sadness in her eyes. After a moment, she said, “We'll go look for him, I promise. But not now. It's late in the day, and according to your doctor, you need to rest.”

  I shook my head. “I can rest in the car while you drive. We can cruise the streets near the crash and see if we can find him. You'll be driving; it won't be a problem for me.”

  She scraped a morsel of melted cheese from the plate and put it in her mouth. She looked at me, shaking her head.

  Finally, she said, “Walker, we both want to find Bob. We don't want to leave him out there on his own. But there are a lot of people looking for him. More every day, now that I've raised the reward to a thousand dollars.

  “If we go out looking for him tonight, it'll tire you out and there's not much chance we'll find him, unless we get out of the car and shake the bushes. We're not going to do that. Not tonight.”

  Before I could object, she said, “We're staying here. You're going to rest. If you feel up to it tomorrow, we'll go. But not tonight.”

  I wanted to say something that would change her mind but couldn't. She was right; I needed to rest. I could feel my body saying the same thing.

  I sighed heavily, stood up and took the empty cheese plate over to the sink. I didn't see a dishwasher, so I wiped it with a paper towel and put it in the sink.

  When I turned around, the floor below me gave way to quicksand, and I had to grab the counter to keep from falling. A wave of dizziness passed over me, and for a moment, I felt like I was about to pass out.

  Abby saw me grab the counter and she stood to catch me. But the dizziness quickly passed, and I was able to stand without her help. Still, she came over and asked, “Are you dizzy?”

  She knew I was, but I wasn't going to admit it. So I said, “No, not really. My legs are a little wobbly from spending so much time in a hospital bed. But I can deal with it.”

  She nodded then pointed to the living room. “Why don't we go out on the deck and watch the sunset? Maybe we'll see the green flash.”

  According to locals, when the weather was just right, if you looked out over the gulf as the sun dipped below the horizon, you might see a green flash. It filled the whole sky but for less than a second. If you weren't looking at the right time or the right place, you wouldn't see it.

  But when you did, you knew what it was. A flash of green lighting up the sky.

  Some people didn't think there was such a thing as the green flash, but I'd been lucky enough to see it more than once, and I knew it was real.

  Even if you didn't believe it existed, looking for it gave you an excuse to watch the sun set over the gulf; that by itself was a good enough reason to wait for it.

  Abby stood and pointed me toward the living room where the large sliding doors led out to the deck. She said, “You go first, I'll follow.”

  She wanted to be behind, ready to catch me if it looked like I was going to fall.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There were two lounge chairs on the deck positioned to give the best view of the gulf waters and the setting sun. The chairs were close together, enough so we could talk over the sound of the waves.

  Abby helped me into one of them and then took a seat in the other. We lay there listening to the waves breaking on the beach below and the gulls soaring high above.

  As the sun slowly set, we started hearing music in the distance. Not the kind you expect to hear on the beach. It was mostly a bass track accompanied by screaming vocals about loose women, drugs and big guns. I didn't recognize the song but knew the genre.

  Abby reached over and put her hand on mine. She said, “Sounds like the neighbors are having a party.”

  “Neighbors? I thought you said there weren't any.”

  She shook her head. “There weren’t supposed to be. But then the owners of the big house next door rented it out. The new people moved in last week, and since then, they've been having lots of parties, mostly at night.

  “They have their speakers outside and play their music, full blast. Then they start drinking and yelling, and one time, I heard what sounded like someone shooting a pistol out into the gulf.

  “The man I got this place from said the people who rented over there are using it to shoot a reality TV show.

  “He thought most of the cast would be living there, maybe some of the crew as well.

  “The TV show is supposedly about wealthy kids living it up on the beach. A camera crew follows them around and records everything. They'll probably have a camera crew there tonight to record their party.

  “The producers encourage the cast members to get wild and do crazy things so the TV audience will have a reason to watch and tell their friends about the show.”

  Abby shook her head. “Reality TV they call it. I think it sucks, but there isn't much I can do about it.”

  She squeezed my hand and then let it go. I could tell she wasn't happy our quiet time had been interrupted.

  The music in the distance paused for a moment, giving us hope that it was over. But soon the silence was pierced by the sound of a Roman candle sizzling out over the gulf and then exploding in a rainbow of colors.

  I shook my head. “Does this go on every night?”

  Abby watched the remnants of the fireworks drift down onto the waters then said, “No, not every night. Usually only when they are shooting scenes for a new episode. Once or twice a week.”

  Before she could continue, we could hear people yelling and then saw the white trail of another Roman candle shooting up toward the heavens, followed by a thunderous blast. Then peals of laughter.

  Abby took a deep breath and said, “They're not supposed to be doing that this time of year. It's turtle nesting season. Loggerheads. They come in on the sand to lay eggs. The law says no lights facing the beach after dark. It confuses the turtles. No fireworks either.

  “The turtle patrol is pretty strict about it. If you get caught, you can face hefty fines. That's why most of the homes facing the beach have blackout curtains. The owners close them at night so they don't run afoul of the turtle law.”

  She paused as a barrage of several rockets screamed toward the sky, each exploding with enough light to create shadows on the beach.

  Distracted by the explosions overhead, we had missed the sunset and any chance of seeing the green flash.

  Since it looked like the fireworks were going to continue into the night, Abby suggested we move inside. But I didn't make a move to get up. I had a question.

  “What about the turtles and the no lights rule? Are they just going to get away with it?”

  Abby stood and said, “No, probably not.”

  She pointed down the beach toward two four-wheelers heading our way. “That's the beach patrol. They probably saw the fireworks and are coming over to tell them to turn off the lights and shut down the music. They'll probably get a ticket.”

  She reached over and grabbed my hand. “Come on, let's go inside and close the curtains. We don't want the turtle patrol to come after us too.”

  She helped me up and led me to the open sliding doors. Just as we reached them, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek.

  I was surprised by the kiss and wondered what it meant. I asked. “Does that mean you love me?”

  She punched me in the shoulder and said, “No, it doesn't. It just means I'm happy you made it out of the hospital alive and in one piece. A lot of people didn't think you would.”

  Still holding my hand, she led me into the living room and had me sit on the couch while she clos
ed the curtains. We hadn't left any lights on, and the room was suddenly dark. I couldn't tell where Abby was, but I could hear her voice.

  She said, “Later on, after we eat, we'll turn off all the lights and open the curtains and look at the stars. Should be a good night for it, especially with the music and fireworks over.”

  She turned on the overhead light, and the coziness of the cabin enveloped me. Even though we'd only been there a few hours, the place felt comfortable. Almost like home.

  Abby had walked into the kitchen, and I could hear her opening the fridge. When she returned to the living room, she had a glass of wine in her hand. She held it up and said, “I would have got you one, but the doctor said, 'no alcohol.' That means your choice of drinks tonight will be limited to water, ginger ale or decaf coffee.

  “We'll be having fresh salmon, brown rice and mixed veggies for dinner. What would you like to drink?”

  The Chardonnay she was drinking sounded pretty good to me. But she was playing nurse and wasn't going to let me have any. I gave her my second choice. “Ginger ale, on the rocks, please.”

  She nodded and pointed to the kitchen. “Get it yourself. I'm not here to wait on you hand and foot.”

  I smiled and said, “But you kissed me. You said you were glad I was alive. Surely that means something.”

  She returned my smile. She knew I was kidding. She pointed to the kitchen and said, “I'm going to be in there cooking dinner for you. I don't cook for anyone else. So be happy I'm not letting you starve. Get up off your butt. I don't plan on being in the kitchen by myself.”

  She stood and waited for me to get up. I was pretty sure she wasn't kidding about me joining her in the kitchen. While I might not have been able to help her prepare the meal, the least I could do was sit at the small table and listen to whatever stories she might want to tell me while she cooked.