by Marni MacRae
Slowly, I untangled my arms from myself and began pulling away from Lucas, careful not to rock Ducky. We sat high enough above the water that the ocean wouldn’t slosh in with a little rocking, but I wanted to assess myself and center my intentions before Lucas woke up. No more panicking, no more chasing the gorgeous cowboy. He was unobtainable and I was more concerned with survival than romance. I may be a woman and do silly female things from time to time, but I was far from stupid. I needed to prioritize the day and hope to find a way to get the hell off of Ducky. “Sorry, Ducky.” I gave the yellow raft a pat as I scooted away from Lucas, who had stirred with my leaving, but still seemed to be sleeping.
I maneuvered myself around until I had my back tucked into the nose of the raft and the sun behind me. I then carefully tugged the two suitcases within reach, pushing the metal box that had held the motor, still on its coasters, to the middle of the raft and along the side. As far out of the way as could be managed. There wasn’t much room to assign spots for everything, but I always function better when items have their place and they stay there until needed. As I unzipped my suitcase, I saw that Lucas was watching me. I wondered how long he had been awake. I had only been fiddling about for less than ten minutes, but the movement must have been enough to wake him up.
I smiled and gave a little wave. “Good morning!” I said cheerily. “Coffee?”
He laughed. An actual real laugh, and I stared at him in surprise. I hoped he hadn’t gotten feverish and sick with his cut. The offer of coffee wasn’t that funny. For me, it was heartbreaking torture, but I went with it and smiled again. “How's your arm?”
Lucas pulled himself to a sitting position and looked down at the bandage that was still securely adhered to his bicep. He flexed it carefully and turned to look at me. “Good job, doctor. No need to amputate.”
“Oh my God, you do have a sense of humor!” I gave him a thumbs up and went back to unzipping my suitcase. “I was concerned you may have lost it in the war or something.”
Lucas stretched and rolled his head from side to side, working out cramps. “Well, there's nothing funnier than an offer of coffee while lost at sea with a pretty woman and no hope of rescue.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath, blowing it out as he closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face.
I paused in my sorting and stared at him “You think I’m pretty? Wait, you think there’s no hope?” My heart had skipped at his offhand ‘pretty’ comment, but then sank with the no hope of rescue. I prayed he was being flippant; we needed hope, hopeless was next to giving up and dying and there was no way I was allowing that. Lucas can sit in his corner of futility, but I am going to hope and pray and paddle if that’s what it takes.
“Yes.” He said. His voice was soothing, and I looked up from my pile of wet clothes to see he was looking at me kindly. “You are pretty. Beautiful really, whether I say it or not, you're just made that way. And no,” he shook his head, still speaking gently, “I don’t really think there's no hope. We can’t be far from an island chain or at least a shipping lane. We just have to be patient and careful, and we’ll be fine.”
I wondered if he was being nice all of a sudden because he didn’t want me to flip out and have to deal with a crazy lady on a raft. But as I studied him, his face glowing in the sun, his expression easy and calm, I realized he meant what he said and he was genuinely being kind.
“Wow.” I let the handful of wet clothes drop back into the suitcase. “Thanks.” I gave him a big heartfelt smile. “I'm relieved we’re on the same page. Both counts too, you’re pretty stunning yourself, especially with that bandage; it makes you look tough. And yes, we will get rescued, or find a ship. I can be as patient as it takes, even without my morning coffee.”
“So we're agreed.” He leaned forward to peer in the suitcase I had been pulling clothes out of.
I held out my hand to shake. “Agreed.”
His hand clasped mine and he gave it a shake, then chuckled lightly as he asked, “So really, no coffee?”
Something he had just said registered in my mind suddenly. He had mentioned shipping lanes. My hand squeezed his tightly. “Oh my God! Ships!”
“Yes, ships.” Lucas peered at me, curious. “What about ships?”
“What you said, about shipping lanes, I read there are only two of them in this area, through the Indian Ocean, along the equator.”
I was still squeezing his hand, and I saw he looked concerned. “Uh, yeah Sophia, ships. OK.”
“No, pretty Lucas, you don’t understand.” I let go of his hand and scrambled toward my purse that sat on his end of the raft. “I have a book, it tells about the ships - the book has maps! We can figure out where we are!”
Lucas grabbed me around the waist and plopped me back down on my side of the raft. “Easy, let’s not get too excited and capsize before you reach said rescue.” He grabbed my purse and heaved it into my lap. “Holy cow, Sophia, do you always travel with cannonballs?”
“Oh, you may laugh now, cowboy,” I said excitedly as I unzipped my purse, “but this baby holds many a treasure you'll be happy I lugged onto this little plastic island.”
Lucas leaned forward to peer inside while I dug around in the depths, finding and pulling out my book on the Maldives. “No coffee in there, huh?”
“No, but I will buy you the biggest latte ever when we get home. Here!” I thrust the book in front of his face almost hitting him in the nose. “Find us!”
“Find us?” He took the book and flipped through the pages. He appeared as interested as I was to have anything to reference our current situation, but not nearly as excited.
“Yes, find us!” I jabbed my finger at a page that had opened to a map of the Indian Ocean and the Maldives atoll chain.
“Sophia, there isn’t a red dot that says ‘you are here.’ Look around, what reference am I supposed to use?” He looked at the map and then out to the open sea.
I could tell he was indulging me now. That he was trying to explain that the map meant nothing, but I didn’t believe him, I knew there had to be a way that this book could help us. He just had to figure it out.
“Use the sun, see… that's east.” I pointed to the big ball of burning heat in the sky. I was completely dry now, the morning was hot already and promised to creep to scorch levels by mid-day.
“Yes, I know, that's the sun and hence east, but still, Sophia.” He took my arm and settled me back to sitting. I had risen to my knees in my frustration to get him to see hope my way. “I will check out the map, I know where we were when the pirates boarded, and the direction we took after that. I 'm pretty sure we traveled for about an hour, hour and a half, and we drifted for about eight hours overnight. So with all that information I will try for you, but frankly, when I booked this vacation, I was told there would be no math.”
I was stunned into silence for a brief second and then I laughed. I plopped back against Ducky’s nose and laughed until it turned into a giggle. “OK.” I gasped, finally settling down. I lay there looking at him, shining in the hot sun, holding the book with the useless map, and a small smile on his face. “I see that what you are trying to explain to me, in your funny cowboy way, is that my book is not in fact, a ticket off this raft.”
He nodded. “Not a ticket.”
I put my hands over my face and lay there, my elbows propped on the sides of the raft, the back of my head growing warm in the beating sun. Then I sighed. And sat back up. “All right, you win. There will be no math.”
“I’m not saying It’s not useful, Sophie.”
He called me ‘Sophie.’ Like we were friends and this was just another chat we would have over coffee, or sitting at a bar with friends. It made me feel happy, so I didn’t say anything, I just looked at him as he went on.
“Let’s continue with what you were doing,” He indicated the suitcase with the pile of half damp clothes. “Let’s take stock and make a plan, figure out what we have, what we can do.”
�
��And keep hope,” I said simply.
“Yes. Keep hope. I’ll look at the map, we can study it and figure out if it has any ticket potential.”
I gave him a light punch on his good shoulder. “OK, Lucas. Good plan.”
We began pulling out our treasured belongings. I lay my wet items of clothing carefully along the side of the raft to dry, and then turned to emptying out my purse. As I pulled out the bottles of beer, Lucas let out a low whistle.
“Of all the women in the entire world to get trapped on a raft with, I get the one who brings beer.” He knelt in front of his suitcase, his hands full of wet clothing, staring at the stash I had been stacking in my lap. He looked at me, his blue eyes sparkling, “I think I love you, Sophia … what’s your last name?”
I grinned proudly, hugging the beer to my chest. “Canon.”
“Sophia Canon. So is that an everyday item, along with, what is that, a frog?” He pointed to the plastic frog that sat on my knee.
“I got the beer to celebrate on the beach once we got to our castaway island. The frog is my friend.” I carry toys with me because the princes and my sister’s little girl were always treasure hunting in my purse when I went to visit. It gave them something safe to play with if they were fussy in a restaurant. It’s not like I could give them my car keys.
“I'll be your friend if you share your beer with me.” Lucas winked and went back to sorting his wet clothes, laying them alongside the sundresses and shorts I had lined around the edge of Ducky.
“Let’s save the alcohol for a celebration when we get rescued. It will dehydrate us and we don’t want that. Friend.”
“You have alcohol?”
I laughed and looked at him, “OK, let’s tally up our stuff, so we both know what we both have.”
He laid his last item of wet clothing over the motor and sat down with his back against it.
“OK. I’ll go first since my list is clearly shorter than yours. I have no frogs, but I do have …” he leaned forward and dragged the gun that had been tucked safely behind the metal box along the edge of the raft overnight. “An AK-47 with….” he paused as he took out the clip of the angry looking rifle and counted the bullets out into his hand, pushing them from the spring-loaded clip with his thumb, “… twelve rounds.”
“Well, it’s nice to know we can defend ourselves from pirates and sharks. Maybe we could shoot a fish or a bird. Are you a good shot?”
He looked at me quizzically. “I am better than decent. How about you?”
“I’m just decent.” I smiled. “What else you got?”
He reached into his suitcase that was now empty of clothing and pulled out a medium sized knife in a leather sheath. Next he retrieved a leather satchel that he unsnapped and dumped into the bottom of the suitcase. “So,” he summarized. “I have a gun, twelve rounds, and a knife. Some fishing line and a hook, although the line is only about twenty feet and not a very strong test, so no big fish would be hauled in on it. A magnifying glass, a small pair of binoculars,” he continued, “a coffee cup,” he held up a small insulated metal cup, “a multi-tool, a knife sharpener, a little tablet and pen and a pack of gum. Plus there’s my shaving kit with my toothbrush and razor and such. Oh, and this.” He held up a large thermos water bottle. “I've had this for years. I don’t know why I put it in my suitcase, just habit I guess.”
At least we have a little more water than I thought. I began a mental list of positives, attributing nothing to luck. Luck was a bitch, I refused to acknowledge her anymore. “So, two questions; why do you carry a magnifying glass, aren’t you a little old to be setting ants on fire … and why are bullets called rounds? I never understood that.”
He shrugged, “Well the magnifying glass was given to me by my uncle when I was ten, it ended up in the bag and I never took it out. As for the rounds, there are a couple of answers for that. The nickname round started when they were. Round, I mean. They were lead balls, even stone, sometimes … and so they were called rounds or balls. Also, a bullet has many parts, the lead that’s fired is at the head of the casing, which is packed with powder and has a firing cap inside to ignite the explosive when the firing pin in the gun strikes it. So I don’t know really, because technically if we call it a round, we are only referring to one part of the bullet. Makes no sense. I just do what the other guys tell me to do. Even though we have the rifle, in another day or two it will be useless. Saltwater is a gun’s kryptonite.” He shrugged and pointed at my pile. “Your turn.”
I looked down at my lap and realized it was going to be a long list with quite a few useless items but forged ahead anyway. “I have two bottles of water, two beers, a Mai tai, a Mudslide, a bottle of vodka and a Piña Colada.”
“Jesus, seriously, Sophie. How about we celebrate now that we escaped the pirates, why wait?”
I shooed his hands away as he reached for the Piña Colada. “No. Bad Lucas. I have five candy bars, two bags of nuts and a package of peanut butter crackers that may have been smooshed.” I held up the cracker package. The contents were mostly crumbs, but I set it in the food pile. We would relish those crumbs, I was sure.
“I have a ball of string.” I felt myself getting choked up, recalling Prince Anthony tying my hands to a chair, what was it, five, no, six days ago. I moved on quickly, “A hair clip, a rubber band, a wallet, a flashlight, dental floss, toothbrush and toothpaste. My makeup bag and a brush, two pens, one broken pencil and a small notepad.” I took a deep breath and forged on with the rest. Even I was astonished at how much stuff I had crammed into my bag. “I have sunglasses, Chapstick, a bottle of sunscreen, fingernail clippers, a multi-tool and a half empty pack of Tic-Tacs.” Which I set in the stack of food items. Between the two of us we boasted two phone charger cords and the cord to my tablet, but I didn't bother counting those aloud. “I think that's it. Other than my tablet which has been dead since my flight out of London … and my phone, also dead.” I looked around to be sure I hadn’t dropped or missed anything, “Oh! And our mascot the frog, whom we will call Freddie and will bring us luck.” I gently laid Freddie on Lucas’s knee and gave the green head a friendly pat.
Lucas took Freddie and put him in his shirt pocket. The little green nose poked out and made the pocket bulge, but I thought it was nice Lucas hadn’t dismissed our good luck charm.
“My phone has no service, even if it did, its life is over after the saltwater bath last night.” Lucas pulled an old style flip-phone from his jeans pocket. “I checked on the boat last night after we were marched to our cabins.” He tucked the phone into his damp suitcase and turned back to stare at our hoard. “We'll have to be stingy with the water and the food.” Lucas seemed impressed at the stack our combined items made. “But our first order of business should be getting all this packed up and secured so if there is an emergency or a storm we don’t lose any of it.”
“Agreed,” I said. I began pulling my now dry clothing off the edges of the raft. A few pieces were still damp and I shook them out, letting the sun do its work before folding it and putting into the suitcase. After twenty minutes the raft was back in order, and I sported a sundress wrapped around my head to ward off the heat that had caused a headache to creep into the front of my skull. I insisted that Lucas do the same with a white T-shirt out of his bag. I passed the bottle of sunscreen to him after rubbing some on all the exposed areas I found on myself. After he obeyed and put the white lotion on his face, arms and neck proclaiming all the while that only women used sunscreen, I then took out a bottle of water.
We each took a mouthful, wishing we could guzzle it down, but knowing we needed to ration. I gauged how many mouthfuls a bottle would render before returning the warm liquid to my purse. Not many.
Lucas fetched the book that was, so far, not our ticket off the raft, and began flipping through each page. He scanned the pages as he went. I assumed he hoped he would stumble upon answers, or hope, or guidance. While he read, I carefully pulled back the corner of the bandage on his arm and check
ed his wound. It didn’t seem swollen or infected, and the butterflies had all held through the night. By the time I sat back down in the nose of the raft to stare at Lucas while he read, it was late morning and the sun burned high in the sky.
It beat down on us relentlessly. No shelter and only a slight breeze, no relief, just heat and a view of either miles and miles of deep blue water or Lucas, who sat engrossed in my book. I chose the latter and sat studying him, trying to sum him up in my mind.
Yesterday at the travel agent’s office, he had seemed withdrawn and aloof… later, on the Lady Sun, Lucas had been determined to rebuff my friendship. Even if I had been a rich silly socialite, there's a modicum of politeness that all humans afford each other. He had been set on keeping me beyond arm’s length. I figured at the time, he must be one of those grumpy travelers, or moody men, who won’t admit that they're moody, but when things don’t go their way, they throw quiet tantrums and make everyone else miserable. Of course, he hadn’t been that bad, I admonished myself. I was being a little pushy and kind of stalker-ish.
I decided that Lucas must have been strung out from two days of flying. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him to fold his long form into a small airline seat and endure sixteen hours of the cramped position. And no telling who he was seated beside. Maybe he hadn't been lucky enough to encounter a male version of Sasha like I had, or even a female version. Most flights I've taken over the years inevitably placed me next to some real crackpots and none too few smelly and annoying passengers. Without my cheery travel attitude, I would have been grumpy too at the end of one of those flights. Not to mention being twice my size and not being able to find a comfortable position.
Add to that the preoccupation with a failed marriage and honeymooning alone, and it was easy to forgive any moodiness that may have affected our first encounter.
