by Jeff Schanz
“Uh, come in,” he said.
She slipped through the door nimbly and flattened her back against it as it shut. She moved like she had a cat’s spine that could bend in any direction. Brandt blinked twice, thinking his eyes were deceiving him. She stood ramrod straight, a kind of absent expression frozen on her face like she was processing which emotion to paste onto it. And then, like a switch inside her was turned on, she snapped a wide smile on her face that was as bright as any electric light. She shrugged shyly and simply said, “Hello.”
“Uh, hi,” he said, sounding too hesitant in his own mind. “I mean, hello,” he said more welcoming.
She bit her lip bashfully, still not moving anywhere, only shifting on the sides of her feet. He noticed she was barefoot. She seemed to be waiting for something.
“Do you speak English?” he asked. Anyone could say “hello” and not know English.
She seemed a little confused but nodded. “Yes. May I – approach you?” she asked.
Approach me? “Please. Of course. Have a seat.”
She moved over to the desk on his right, almost flying. Her feet seemed to brush the ground like she was floating. She pulled the chair from under the desk and moved it closer to him. Smoothing her skirt, she sat primly with school-straight posture. Again, she seemed like she was waiting for something.
Brandt decided that it was up to him to direct the conversation. “My name is Brandt. Rembrandt Dekker. My mother thought it was cute to name me after a famous painter. But I just call myself Brandt. What’s your name?”
“Natalia.” She fidgeted with her hands while answering, like her name needed affirmation of acceptability.
“That’s a very pretty name.” Brandt wasn’t sure what might spook the girl, so he wanted to keep the conversation unintimidating. He decided to go for playful. “Actually, I remember a girl in high school named Natalia, too. Exchange student from the Ukraine. I’m sorta into nicknames, so I called her Lia. I thought it was cute, but she didn’t like it.”
Natalia tilted her head as if trying to hide her smile, which was strange because she had been smiling continuously since she came in the room. But she stared at the floor for a moment before she met his eyes again, and said, “Well, I like it. You may call me Lia if you wish.”
“Oh, ok. Well then, Lia, it’s nice to meet you.”
She nodded, her eyes back on the floor for another moment. When she lifted her eyes, the embarrassment was replaced by genuine excitement.
God, she’s got entrancing eyes. They were a luminous blue like the water of a shallow Caribbean beach. “Well, Lia, I’m guessing you’re probably wondering who I am. And likewise, I don’t know who you are, and where I am exactly, or how you found me. So, maybe you could…”
She did a little rapid tap of her fingertips together. “Oh yes, of course,” she said with more enthusiasm than the response required. She looked almost giddy with anticipation to speak to Brandt some more. Seeming to realize that her enthusiasm was a little excessive, she relaxed her shoulders, sat a little straighter, then continued. “My father found you in the water. I spotted you, and he went out and brought you back here. I dried you off and got you into bed, and checked your injuries.” She hesitated momentarily, then continued. “Your body had numerous contusions and sprains, possibly some rib fractures, but I didn't think there was internal bleeding. I thought you would need to rest, so I left you alone. You have been sleeping quite a long time.” She bit her lip and averted her eyes, adjusting her posture and smoothing her skirt. Apparently, it was Brandt's turn to talk.
“Well, thank you, Lia,” said Brandt. It hadn’t hit him immediately, but several red flags in the explanation she just had just given were dawning on him. He could sort through them in a moment. He said, “Your father?”
She nodded again. “Yes.”
Apparently, to her, that was enough of a disclosure. Brandt asked, “Is your father in the Coast Guard?”
She looked a little puzzled, then answered, “No.”
“Oh, ok,” said Brandt. “But he has a helicopter?”
Again, the slightly confused look. “No.”
Evidently, Brandt was going to have to get used to simple answers without expansion. “Then how did he get me here?” He didn't think that was a difficult question, but the look on her face said otherwise. She almost looked crestfallen. Why would that question would upset her? He didn't want to end the conversation or hurt her feelings, so he offered, “It’s ok. You can tell me all that later. I’m just glad you found me.”
She brightened and the shy smile returned.
He tried to find new tack. “Can you tell me where I am?”
“Of course. You are in my father’s house on our island. Makal Island.”
“How many people live here?”
“Just me and Father.”
“You live here by yourselves?”
She nodded.
“Way out here? All year ‘round, or just sometimes?”
“Always,” she said, a little hint of misgiving in her voice.
Her father’s transportation and her residential status seemed to be speed bumps in this conversation. Brandt nodded absently, acknowledging her answer, trying to think of a different line of questions. His mind, however, was preoccupied with lamenting his thirst. He must’ve unknowingly licked his lips, because Lia suddenly stiffened and exclaimed, “Oh my! I have nearly forgotten. You must be parched.”
She reached under the bed and returned with a ceramic jug. Was that always there? She popped the cork from it and handed him the jug.
He tried not to make an obvious show of smelling the jug’s mouth before he drank, luckily there was no telltale smell of poison or drugs. He lifted the jug to his lips and sipped a little of the liquid. It was cool water. He opened his throat and guzzled most of the rest. A little bit was left in the jug in case it was poor etiquette for a convalescing house guest to drink a whole container of whatever was offered.
“Thank you,” he said, trying not to belch.
“You are welcome.” Lia didn't seem concerned with his manners. She re-corked the jug and placed it on his nightstand, then returned to her usual prim posture.
Feeling a little better already, he came up with a new question. “You said you thought I didn’t have internal bleeding. Are you a nurse or a doctor?”
“Oh, no. But I read books. I have read numerous medical books.”
“Books?”
“Yes.” Her closed-mouth grin was like a child who was asked if she liked ice cream. “You had a lot of bruising, here…” she began to reach for his right side, then drew back like a snake had bitten her. Her new expression resembled the aforementioned ice cream loving girl who was told there was no more ice cream. She daintily placed her hand to her mouth, apparently embarrassed that she was about to violate his person by touching his bruised side.
“Uh…” Bemused, Brandt looked down at his side, still covered by his shirt. “It’s, uh, ok if you want to check…”
Apparently, that was the winning answer. She reached under his shirt and lifted it up. Her fingers were warmer than ice, but not by much. Despite the chilly fingers, her touch sent a warm electric shock through his skin. She held the shirt up, and for a moment looked confident, then suddenly embarrassed, then uncertain. She swallowed a little before saying, “There is a lot of bruising here. As well as the other side. Also on that side is a long scar, but that looked old. I noticed it – earlier when I…”
She dropped the shirt and folded her hands in her lap. Brandt had no idea what was going on, but there were a few more red flags in the things she had told him, and apparently, she knew it as well. He tried to give her a soft smile, like everything was fine, and proceeded to lift the shirt himself. He looked at his side and noticed that she was right about the bruising. Both sides were purple, which would be a good reason why he had been in so much pain getting in and out of bed. The scar was another story that
was not going to be told anytime soon.
“You’re right,” he said pleasantly. “I’m beat up pretty good. I’m glad you examined me.”
Lia didn’t relax her posture, but her smile returned, a little lower wattage, but genuine.
“Is it just my torso that’s bruised?” he asked. The question was pointed. He was curious how she would answer.
“No,” she said, suddenly needing to look at the floor.
Uh huh. So I’m willing to bet my clothes have not been entirely on every minute I’ve been here. And yet, she’s the one embarrassed.
“It’s ok,” he said. “I’m glad that someone checked my – uh, made sure I wasn’t injured any worse. It’s a good thing.”
Lia’s head raised, and she was neither smiling nor frowning, but trying to look neutral, and failing. It was like she was conflicted about which emotion to convey, which gave her a constipated expression. Subtlety and emotional transitions appeared to be difficult for her.
Brandt continued to hold his shirt up. He had exceptional core strength and his abdomen was worthy of being featured in fitness magazines. Even bruised, he didn’t mind showing it off in female company. “Is there anything we can do to get the bruising down?”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly enthusiastic. Everything is hot and cold with her. She reached toward him, stopped, and then just made a wavy motion with her fingertips. “Some gentle massage and perhaps some ointment. Would you like me to do that now?”
As much as he would probably enjoy it, he was not sure that was the best plan at that moment. “Thank you. We'll work on that later,” he said, then dropped his shirt.
She snapped her hands back to her lap, looking a little guilty about her suggestion.
It’s like she has all the normal emotions, but none of the degrees. The meter is redlining for each one. Cute, but weird.
Brandt shifted in the bed, trying to decide where the other bruising might be without looking for it. There were no mirrors in the house that he’d seen so far, so he would have to trust his own guesses. It felt like he was bruised pretty much everywhere. He wondered if his ribs were fractured as she suggested.
“So, medical books, huh? What other kinds of books do you read?” he asked.
“All kinds,” she said pleasantly. “I have an exceptional collection of books. And I remember everything I have read.”
That doesn’t surprise me, somehow. He knew there were disorders or diseases that linked emotional stunting with capacity for detailed knowledge retention. He forgot how they worked, but maybe she had something like that. “So, do you believe I have any broken bones, Dr. Lia?”
Lia giggled. She shook her head and quickly answered, “No, I don’t think so. Possible rib fractures and high sprains on both of your ankles.”
Brandt wasn’t sure how much stock to put in the accuracy of her diagnoses, but there were sharp pains near his ribs, his legs did feel heavy and numb, and they did hurt when he walked. But everything hurt when he walked, so it was hard to differentiate.
Brandt decided to ask another pointed question. “Have the police been contacted? Does anyone else know what happened?”
She shook her head. “No. Only myself and my father.” She didn’t seem to see anything hidden in that question.
Brandt smiled and nodded. He wanted to know who, besides herself and her father, knew that he was here. “How long do you expect I need to stay here?”
Lia visibly shrank. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” The crestfallen look was moments away from returning to her face again, so Brandt shook off his impatience with her and once again changed tack.
Teasingly, he said, “So, how’d you get so many books living way out here? Does Amazon deliver to islands?”
Lia had a brief moment of bewilderment, but she relaxed in her chair before she said, “My father gets them for me. He flies to other places and looks for anything I don’t have, and then…” She seemed to think that she said something that she shouldn’t have. She took a quick breath and reset. “My father gets them.”
“Well, I’d love to see your collection when I’m able to get out of bed.” He wasn’t sure if she knew he’d already gotten out of bed before, but it seemed like something he should keep to himself for the moment.
Regardless, her reaction was pure joy. “Yes, I'd like that.” She was bouncing and wiggling noticeably like she might want to pick him up right then and carry him to wherever this collection was. Although she was a slender woman, Brandt had the odd notion that she may be much stronger than she looked.
Brandt had been doing some mental calculations while they had talked. Lia was either so amazing an actress that she could fake bad acting to hide her real emotions, or she truly was an odd, sweet, innocent girl who genuinely wanted to help him recover. Running with that assumption, he would then assume she knew nothing about him. And although he hadn’t met her father, the father didn’t sound nefarious or suspicious either. There was definitely something odd about the father, and absolutely something Lia wished to hide, but it didn’t appear to have anything to do with Brandt and his situation.
Those red flags, though. What in the world did a few of her casual comments mean?
Like, point one: Her father apparently flies places, and went out and brought Brandt back here, but he doesn’t have a helicopter. He doubted there was room to land a plane on this rocky island. She didn’t say her father flew Brandt back here, yet how else can he explain the memory of his flight above the island? And even if Brandt dismissed the flying mystery, then what about a boat? There might be a little beach somewhere he didn’t see from the air. All he had seen was stark cliffs and rocks, inaccessible by a boat, unless there was a manmade stairway and dock somewhere unseen. So how did I get here?
Point two: Lia was embarrassed or concerned that Brandt would know that she lives here permanently. Why? What significance was that? Other than being really weird, it wasn’t illegal or harmful. Or was it illegal? Most of these islands were government owned. Were they squatters? In a freaking mansion? It would’ve been a massive undertaking, and years to build, especially getting the materials shipped way out here, not to mention transporting the labor force. There was no way the government was clueless that someone lived here. So what was she so afraid Brandt might find out?
Lia asked, “Are you married?”
Brandt realized that was the first real question she had asked him besides if he’d allow her to touch his bruises. And of all the questions she could start with, – that one?
Lia seemed to realize the same thing and quickly added, “Or any other family on the mainland? Is there anyone that will be worried where you are?”
Brandt smiled. That was her own version of a pointed question. He could give her the truth and tell her that he had no living parents, no wife or girlfriend, just his brother. But he was reluctant to offer that much right now. He didn’t want to lie, either. This girl seemed innocent, and he didn’t think she was involved in his sorted situation, but he didn’t want to take the chance quite yet.
“Yeah,” he said. “They’ll probably worry if I don’t get word soon.”
Lia nodded and once again glanced at the floor. Something had subtly changed in her mannerism. His ego thought that she was interested in his marital status because he was a prospect she had suddenly caught in her net. Not a lot of boyfriend options way out here. The more rational thought was something else was going on that he wasn’t privy to yet. He’d figure it out as he went.
Risking an etiquette breach, he reached out a hand and lifted her chin. She flinched when he touched her. Her radiant eyes looked through him. Man, I could get lost in those. Her eyes were a clear lake that you could see to the bottom, inviting and perfect. He got a grip on himself.
“It’s ok,” he said softly. “We can wait until I get better. I trust you.”
He wasn’t sure why he said that last line, but it seemed like what she wanted to hear. Her expression o
nce again brightened to full voltage. It’s really all or nothing with her emotions. Brandt felt compelled to amend his previous vague statement about his family ties. His egotist side told him it was because he was suddenly as interested in her marital status as she was in his. His rational side just wanted the excuse to continue the conversation and coax more information from her.
“And, no, I’m not married,” he said. My latest girlfriend left me for a drug dealer, so... “How about you? How come you’re…?”
Lia suddenly thrust out her hand and pressed a finger gently to his lips. What the…? For a moment, he thought she was going to lean in and kiss him. That’s not what happened. She turned her head and seemed to be listening.
“Shhh,” she said sharply.
Brandt tried to mumble the words, “What is it?” but all he got was “Wha…” before she hissed, “Shhh,” again.
This was a curious development on two fronts. One, her new in-charge attitude was an interesting switch. And two, something was apparently happening that might be significant.
Lia stayed unnaturally still for several seconds. Her eyes flitted back and forth, not really seeing anything, just a reaction to her concentration. Brandt heard absolutely nothing.
Without making a sound, he tried to mouth the word, “What?”
She was looking in the wrong direction to see his action, but she nevertheless raised the hand that she had held to his mouth and jabbed the finger into the air as a forceful directive to stay quiet.
Scenarios bounced around in Brandt’s brain, all of them selfish worries that his fears were about to be realized. That the man that he had tried to…
Faster than seemed possible, she placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed him gently but firmly to lie back on the bed. He complied. She may have been slightly built, but her hands held a quiet strength that surprised him.
