Lady Sun: Marni MacRae

by Marni MacRae

  “Lousy, and thirsty.” My voice sounded raspy in my ears, and my throat burned, probably from saltwater, and screaming. “I’m hungry,” I forged on, identifying my state of being, “tired, I have a headache, my leg was hit by a truck or eaten by a shark, except I know it’s there because it’s screaming at me. I'm relieved and so happy to see you. Curious -- where the hell are we? And sad that I didn’t wake up in a hotel where I can order room service. Morphine with coffee and a cheeseburger.”

  Lucas laughed. It was a sound full of relief and exhaustion. I saw in his eyes that he was stressed and worried. I wished I could make him feel better.

  “How are you?”

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I'm well, thanks to you. I woke up in the rain, naked, with a bandage on my head and a nude woman in my lap. It was weirdly arousing. Until I saw your leg.” The worried look came back. I could tell he was at a loss as to what to do. “You were bleeding all over me, and so pale.” His voice grew soft, almost a whisper. “I've never been so scared in my life, Sophia.” He reached out and took my hand. “I thought you were dead. You had bandaged me and then died on top of me. I almost lost it.” He closed his eyes and then took a second before continuing.

  “I took you into the trees; I found this clump here where the rain barely gets through. I dragged our bags up and wrapped the Ace bandage around your leg. It helped; the bleeding has stopped now, but Sophie, I don’t know what to do. Should I sew you up? Should I boil water?” He had my hand in a death grip, and I could see he wasn’t kidding, he was really very scared.

  Of what, I wondered? I mentally kicked myself, of having to bury me, of being alone. Just because he's afraid of losing me doesn’t mean he’s in love with me. I suddenly wanted that so badly. For him to tell me that he did. And I wanted to tell him, I wanted to be with someone that I loved and was loved by, if I had to endure, survive.

  These last few days had stripped away all the frivolous things. All the tedium of normal life, and broke it down to the base; to feel, to survive and to be grateful. I was grateful, and I didn’t care about embarrassment. I let it go and chose honesty.

  “I love you, Lucas,” I said it softly and plainly. Not expecting a reply, but I took his other hand and brought it to my mouth, kissing his knuckles and gripping his fingers tightly.

  Lucas brought his mouth down to mine and kissed me. I could almost taste his pain, the fear that vibrated through him. “God, I love you, Sophia. Ever since you asked me to call you ‘pumpkin’, you've had me running around in my head trying to figure this out.” He took my face in his hands and looked me in the eye. “I thought you were dead. The most perfect, brightest thing I've ever encountered in my life, and I couldn’t handle the thought that I only had you for a few days.” He kissed me again, sweeter and slower this time, but with an underlying urgency. He pulled away and brushed a stray strand of hair back into my matted braid, “I do love you, please promise me you can get through this. Tell me how to fix your leg.”

  I was crying. All the rest was small because my heart was so full. Love is an amazing medicine. It heals so much. I would get through this because I'm a tough lady and because there was a reason to, a good one. Lucas loves me.

  “Help me sit up.”

  I put my arms around his neck and Lucas propped me up, scooting me sideways a bit to lean back against a tree. I took stock, noting the cove of trees we sat under was almost completely dry. The spot was damp and muggy, but we weren’t getting soaked in the rain. I was grateful Lucas had used the Ace bandage to bind the wound. It was more sterile than anything in our suitcases, and they would have been soaked in sea water.

  I had to believe that with all the rain and the bleeding, the wound had been washed out. I didn’t have a choice. I had to hope for the best and maybe pray some more. I knew that Lucas would have to close it. The stapler would be the smartest choice. He couldn’t disinfect his hands to sew me up, and the stapler was sealed and sterile. I had concerns the scratches along my waist might get infected, as they hadn’t bled as much, but I had to deal with one thing at a time.

  “I'm guessing you didn't find a resort or a hospital.”

  Lucas shook his head. “Not so much as a Tiki hut. We're definitely on an island, not a continent, and so far, I haven't found any structures. I didn't explore very far, but I'm afraid no room service. No doctor.”

  I sighed, resigned to what I had already guessed was true. We were on our own. “Where’s the med kit?”

  Lucas took it from one of the suitcases and handed it to me. Opening it up, I quickly catalogued the contents. One iodine left, we would have to use it, as well as the two alcohol swab tissues. I added the stapler, gauze, and Super Glue to my pile, as well as the box of Band-Aids. That was all I would be able to use. Everything else wouldn’t help, it was just miscellaneous. I would need clean bandages. Lucas would have to wrap the leg and my waist for the first day, to help the wounds close and start stitching themselves. After that, I could let them air out, form hard scabs and do all the fixing behind closed doors, or skin as the case would be.

  “We'll need a few things.”

  “Name it.” Lucas’s expression changed from anxiety to concentration, laced with a bit of hope.

  “I need water, do you have something to catch it in?”

  Lucas held up his metal cup, and I realized that was what I had awoken to. I reached out and drained the rest of the rainwater he had caught in it and asked for more. Lucas grinned and then disappeared into the trees. A minute or two later he came back, the cup full again, and I was thrilled I could finally drink to my heart’s content.

  “Where did you get it?” I hoped that there was more because we would need it for the surgery.

  “You were out for a while, more than two hours. I saw that Ducky was holding water, so I dumped it all out, let the rain wash it and dumped it again. She's almost completely deflated, but she has quite a few gallons of water in her now.” He grinned, flashing his white teeth and dimples beneath the scruff on his face. “I’ve had five cups already.” He nodded to his coffee cup. “Glad we had that in the bag.”

  “Mm hm… me too.” I put the cup down and continued with what we would need. “Lucas, I need you to take the largest item of clothing you can find in our bags. You'll have to wash it really well in fresh water, and then tear it into strips about two to three inches wide. If you do that now, we can hang the strips to dry while you do the rest.”

  Lucas smiled again and shook his head. “I tell you I love you, and you set me to doing laundry.”

  I gave him a big grin in return. “Yep, next you'll be grocery shopping, so let me know when you’re ready for the list.”

  My headache had receded some, and I sipped at the cup of water while Lucas went off to the laundry mat with one of my favorite sundresses in hand. I wished I had repacked the wraps I had sewn into a sail. They would have worked better as bandages. Sunk to Davey Jones’ locker by now.

  Sighing, I looked around at my surroundings. Lucas was right, barely any rain got through here under the trees. The ground below me was sandy with some ferns scattered about, and old fronds padding the floor. It seemed almost like a little hut. I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the pain, replaying Lucas’s words in my mind. The most perfect, brightest thing I have ever encountered in my life. I felt a thrill in my heart and settled in, listening to all the new sounds around me.

  The rain dripped and dropped, the plopping noises making a soothing lullaby. I figured we were still close to shore as I heard the waves persistently crashing themselves against the beach. In the trees, birds chirped and squawked, calling out to each other, enjoying their baths and not caring a whit about the new featherless visitors.

  Looking up into the branches I saw that we would have plenty of coconuts to eat, the heavy fruit hung in clusters in all the trees nearby. I wondered how we would get them open without an ice skate handy, but had faith that Lucas would figure something out.

  I was ab
out to nod off again, figuring sleep would keep me from feeling anything consciously, when Lucas came back holding my dress, wet and limp in his hands.

  “OK, if you tear it up, just be sure to keep it as sterile as possible.” I pushed the call of sleep away and gritted my teeth as he made the first tear.

  Lucas stood to avoid letting the material touch the ground, and tore my pretty dress into strips. To ease the pain of watching my expensive article of clothing die, I imagined he was tearing it off of me. That made me feel much better, I was smiling by the time he had all the strips hanging from the loop of one sleeve. He then stuck a stick through the sleeve loop and wedged it in the crook of one of the trees of our shelter.

  “I don’t know if they will dry completely, the air is pretty muggy, but …” Lucas shrugged, indicating he had no power over the weather but hoped for the best. “OK, ready for the grocery list, dear.”

  I laughed, and the movement sent shooting pain through my waist, then down my hip and for good measure my leg screamed at me too. My laughter ended in a cringing gasp and Lucas was kneeling in front of me, hands on my shoulders, worry in his eyes again. “Easy, Sophie. Just be still, take it easy.”

  Like he's calming one of his mares, I thought. But I loved him for his gentle concern, and his help.

  “I’m alright.” I took a breath in slowly and let it out, boxing the pain away in one corner of my mind. I needed to focus.

  “I need you to find an aloe vera plant. Do you know what one looks like?”

  Lucas nodded and looked around us. “How do you know they grow here?”

  “They do,” I assured him. “It’s tropical, and south of the equator, they grow in this region all the way to Australia.”

  He stared at me like I was a curious animal he wanted to pet but wasn’t sure if I would bite.

  “Don’t look at me like that; I’m not weird, I’m curious. I read. I remember stuff, and I happen to own three aloes.” I stated it as if that were reason enough for me to contain encyclopedic information on a plant.

  “OK, Sophie.” He kissed me quickly and rose to head into the jungle. “But you would make a great teacher, or librarian,” he said, “sexy little glasses, a bun, short skirt ...” He disappeared into the trees.

  “Librarians don’t wear short skirts,” I called after him, “and neither do teachers,” I mumbled. But if I were a librarian I would. Just for fun.

  I started to organize in my head what Lucas would need to fix me. But the thought of my leg being stapled made my blood pressure rise, and I felt the tell-tale panic threatening to make an appearance. So instead I closed my eyes and thought of home.

  I had been gone now for seven days. My flight left today, I realized. I was supposed to board at the Malé airport at three this afternoon. “Looks like I’m gonna miss my plane,” I said to the birds. They kept up their chatter and didn’t appear to care at all. Probably wondered why I didn’t just fly home, use my wings. Oh, I would if I could.

  It was probably snowing at home, January snow, which meant cold and bitter. December snow is light and fluffy and fun for sledding or snowmen. But in January, the ground is frozen solid and icy, and the snow is usually more tiny ice particle than actual flakes. The hot, humid, air didn’t match up with the vision of snow, so I let it go and wondered why it was raining at all. I had been told that January in the Maldives was perfect weather. The wet season was in the summer or fall, I couldn’t remember now. Being so close to the equator made seasons confusing, but I did remember clearly, the travel agent who handled the scheduling, had promised no rain or very little at most.

  Of course, I had no idea where I was now. Maybe the distance we had traveled had changed the seasons, now we were in rain-every-day-month. But I didn’t resent it, really. If the island had no fresh water source on it, the rain would keep us alive.

  I worried that the muggy air would hinder healing, though. Bacteria thrive in warm, moist environments. I sighed and changed the topic again. I needed something cheery, something the opposite of the burning coals eating my leg, or the feverish flush throughout my body that might be sickness, or possibly, the tropics. Go to your happy place, Sophie.

  My happy place. I'm on my horse on a late spring day. Everything is green, and alive, and full of promise. Gypsy, a little mustang mare I trained from scratch, is fast, and she loves a good run. With my eyes closed, I leaned against the tree and took Gypsy in my mind, over the hills, up into the trees, and explored the high plateaus. The wheat farmers are out on their tractors. Plowing and planting or spraying. There we take an old, overgrown road into the neighboring canyon, finding deer trails and spotting wild rabbits ...

  Lucas brought me out of my happy place with a light caress.

  The pain was still there, and it felt like it was growing. I needed to get this done.

  “Hey.” I knew I looked tired and probably like a ragged bum. I had sand in my hair that was now a matted mess, no longer the pretty braids. The bun had come out in the water, and now the one braid hung tangled and limp, over my shoulder. I'm sure there was blood matted in there, and I was probably pale and sickly-looking. I felt pale and sickly.

  “Hey back.” Lucas held up a handful of large aloe vera leaves. They were bigger than any aloe plant I had seen in the States, and I was relieved he had found some, let alone such a great many.

  “Oh, good.” My voice sounded weak in my ears and I steeled myself to get out the entire plan in case I passed out.

  “The plant has antibiotic properties. It will help heal the flesh and keep bacteria out as well. It may even help with the pain. If I pass out, when you’re done, mash some up and mix it with water and make me drink it, that will help too. This,” I held up the iodine, “is for my leg. Wash the wound with water. Let it dry on its own, and don’t touch it with anything. Then pour this in it, around it too if there's enough.”

  I noticed Lucas was growing a bit green, but ignored it, I couldn’t do this to myself. He would have to. I knew he would. I had faith he would do anything it took.

  “After the iodine dries, use this.” I held up the super glue. “We can’t get in to stitch up the muscle, but it’s torn; it needs to be held together, not just the skin above.”

  At this, I thought he might actually puke on me, but he took a breath, looked at the sky and blew it out, returning his focus to me. I pretended he was fine, great, no puking, he’s a doctor.

  “Get the glue in the muscle, and then hold the wound together. Super Glue is similar to cement, it will dry chemically, it doesn’t really need a lot of air, it will just take longer. Next, this.” I held up the stapler. “Don’t let go of the wound. Try to staple while holding the skin together, so you don’t lose the bond you get with the glue.”

  “Oh God.” Now he put his head between his knees. “You actually do have a stapler, I thought you were kidding.”

  “No, look, doctors staple now, it’s very common, this is sterile. It’s our best bet to avoid infection.” I felt the steam run out of me and closed my eyes. I leaned my head back against the tree and breathed slowly. “You can do this, Lucas.”

  “I know, pumpkin, I will. Don’t worry.” He had my hand now, and I smiled, he called me ‘pumpkin’, it was our pet name, and I was grateful he was trying to cheer me up.

  “OK, cowboy, do about half an inch, maybe three-quarters apart, I can’t remember how many are in here, and I don’t know how much is torn down there. Once you get it stapled, put this on, it will help create a barrier and assist in healing.” I held up the plant. “Slice it open, with a clean blade, mash it up, it will turn into a chunky gel, then smear.”

  “Smear. Got it.”

  “For the rest of me, use these.” I held up the alcohol pads. “Wash the wounds. Let them dry, then scrub with these, let that dry, then apply the plant.” I held up the aloe again. “And then wrap me up. The important part in the wrapping is to assist in keeping the skin closed, make it tight, but not so tight you cut off blood flow. OK, done.” A wa
ve of dizziness engulfed me, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my vision locked on Lucas.

  “You ready?” I gave him a weak smile I knew had to be ghastly, but couldn’t summon better.

  “Yes, I’m ready.” Lucas rose and fetched his knife from his bag, went down to the raft to wash the blade, and brought back a cup of clean water. Carefully, he pulled the layer of dresses off of my leg. I saw him grimace and turn green again, but he kept going, exposing my hip and waist. He slowly began pouring the cup of water into every scrape and scratch, then down my leg into the deeper cuts.

  I gritted my teeth and moaned quietly, but knew I had to stand it. He knew too. He didn’t stop, not even when I gasped as the water hit the deepest cut on my thigh.

  Three more times he made a trip out into the rain to Ducky, bringing back water. Once he handed the cup to me, and I drank, grateful for the refreshing liquid on my burning throat, and the sweet taste of rain.

  Lucas handed me a stick and said, “Bite down. It gets worse from here on.”

  I nodded and took the stick, put the wood between my teeth and closed my eyes. Lucas tore open the iodine and began pouring the dark yellow antiseptic into the wound. The flash of lightning that struck me was so fierce I couldn’t scream, or breathe, or think. And then the stars again, and blackness.

  Chapter 15

  When I woke up this time, it was dark. The rain had stopped, but the mugginess remained.

  The birds were quiet, just insects left chirping, and the distant sound of waves hitting sand. I felt Lucas beside me. The heat of him, but he wasn’t touching me. I reached out, fumbling in the dark toward his shadowy form, groping where I sensed his arm would be.

  “Sophia. How are you?” He shot up and was at my side, holding my hand. “I was worried,” he murmured. “You passed out and didn’t wake up, even during the stapling.” His hand was on my face, on my brow, checking for a temperature, stroking my hair. “I thought you had a heart attack.” I could hear the stress in his voice. Sense the worry.