A Reluctant Hero

by Dara Girard

  “I was too busy enjoying you.”

  “You don’t look like a Richard. The name Richard doesn’t suit you,” Daniella said, adjusting her still partially unbuttoned shirt.

  Richard stiffened. “What kind of name do you think would suit me?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.”

  “Don’t think too hard.”

  “Don’t worry. Once I lie down and close my eyes you’ll be out of my mind.”

  He gave her a featherlike kiss that felt like a breeze slipping through the trees. “No, I won’t,” he said then got up, turned and walked away. He climbed into his survival blanket and went to sleep, leaving Daniella’s lips warm and wanting.

  On the fifth day they finally heard the sound of a helicopter. Richard and the men sprang into action. Stephen ran out into a clearing in the field and started setting off flares. Wendell and James climbed two of the nearby trees and retrieved the reflecting mirrors and joined Stephen adjusting them manually to get the sun’s rays, hoping to catch the pilot’s attention. The two children were wildly running in circles and jumping up and down calling out to get the pilot’s attention. The helicopter circled once then went away and within a few minutes returned, flying low. One of the rescuers onboard put their hand out the window with a thumbs-up, indicating they saw them. They were rescued at last. While Mrs. Pruit insisted that she had to be the first person airlifted out, the copilot and the two children were the ones who were selected to be transported first. The helicopter had to make a total of three trips before everyone was safely out. Because of the terrain and location where the plane had landed, it would have taken hours for a vehicle to reach them and days for rescuers to arrive on foot.

  The copilot was taken by Medivac to a hospital at least forty-five minutes from the location where the plane had crashed. The other passengers were all taken to a nearby local community hospital where they were examined and all deemed to be in good health, except for Mrs. Pruit. Due to the fact she had not been taking her diabetic and blood-pressure medications—she had refused to bring an extra supply—she was extremely dehydrated and had to be admitted for several days to bring her pressure and blood-sugar levels down, both of which were at dangerously high levels. Unfortunately Glenda had to endure those days in the hospital, alone, without any support. Thankfully, her husband, Thadius Pruit, would be joining her in two days. For the entire five days the plane had been missing, he had been trying to get back home. He had been traveling in northern Nigeria and, unfortunately for him, Nigerian airline workers went on a massive work strike and he found himself stranded. He had to take a total of three planes and travel by way of Nigeria to Egypt, London to Seattle, then Seattle to Kennedy airport in New York.

  Daniella, the Baxter brothers, Wendell, and Anna and Mark were all put on separate flights and sent on their way. Oddly, Richard disappeared as soon as they landed and Daniella didn’t get a chance to thank him for being their hero. The whole rescue scene had been so climactic. Upon arriving at the hospital they had been surrounded by the press and bombarded by reporters, each one eager to get a firsthand account of the accident and how they, the passengers, had survived.

  “Where did you find water?”

  “What about food?”

  “What happened to the pilot? Do you think he was negligent?” On and on, the questions would not stop.

  While Daniella had obliged and granted a few interviews, she kept most of the story for herself. She knew a story about surviving a plane crash would make for great journalism.

  * * *

  Once home, Daniella decided that she wanted nothing to do with The Renegade. He hadn’t even taken the time to say goodbye, which explained why she hadn’t thought of him as a potential story, but now she did. She thought of all the different angles she could come from in order to make her story engaging. She desperately wanted to show Pascal that she was as serious a writer as he was and not just some travel writer.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Oh, that would be for you,” Sophia said.

  Daniella frowned. “Why for me? I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “You are now. I called your sisters.”

  Chapter 3

  “Why?”

  Sophia flashed a sheepish grin. “I thought if I couldn’t convince you not to go off on your crazy scheme maybe they could.”

  The doorbell rang again, this time insistent.

  Daniella covered her eyes and groaned. “Tell me you didn’t call Mariella.”

  Sophia jumped up and ran toward the kitchen. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

  Daniella swore and stood as the bell rang a third, fourth then fifth time, each time more demanding. “I’m coming!”

  She swung the door open and saw her two older sisters. One with a welcoming grin the other with her arms folded: Isabella and Mariella.

  Mariella’s eyes flashed. “You really shouldn’t keep people waiting.” She entered without waiting for an invitation.

  “She didn’t know we were coming,” Isabella said.

  Her sisters were opposites in both temperament and appearance. Mariella, the eldest of the four Duvall sisters, was a tall, striking beauty with skin like polished oak. She had traveled the world as a model and later as a renowned photographer. Isabella, the second eldest, was petite with ordinary features but had keen dark eyes and a warm smile.

  “We need to talk to you,” Mariella said, walking past Daniella in a haughty manner.

  Daniella sighed. “There’s nothing to talk about. Sophia made a mistake.”

  “She doesn’t make mistakes,” Mariella said, entering their small living room and taking a seat on the couch. She held out her jacket for her younger sister to take care of. Daniella put it over the back of an armchair behind her against the wall.

  “Just bear with us,” Isabella said in a low voice as she gave Daniella a quick hug.

  “I can’t believe Sophia called Mariella,” she whispered back.

  “She cares about you.”

  “Calling Mariella for advice is like using an ax to cut a cake.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Mariella said in an impatient tone. “Come on. We don’t have all day. This isn’t a family reunion.”

  “No,” Daniella said. “Those are supposed to be pleasant occasions.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want us here?”

  Isabella held up her hands. “Let’s just get this over with. Dani we came because—”

  “We want to stop you from making a huge mistake,” Mariella finished. She crossed her long legs at the ankle. “Sophia told us that you want to go after a man.”

  “That’s not what I said,” Sophia said, entering with a large tray of lemonade, juice glasses and cookies.

  Mariella dismissed her objection with a quick wave of her perfectly manicured hand. “Well, that’s what you meant.”

  “No, I—”

  “We think that’s a dangerous idea,” Mariella cut in, leaving Sophia with her mouth open.

  “I’m not going after a man,” Daniella said with a tired sigh. “I’m going after a story.”

  “Same thing.”

  “You have plenty of stories,” Isabella said. “You don’t have to chase after this one.” Daniella usually listened attentively to her older sister. Any advice she gave seemed to always be tempered with a certain amount of wisdom. But this time was different. She didn’t need advice, she’d already made up her mind.

  Daniella leaned forward, eager to get her friend and sisters to understand. “I want the challenge. I think I can get him to talk to me.”

  “Ginger?” Sophia said.

  Daniella paused, remembering the name Richard had given her. But how could she have known? “What did you call me?”

  So
phia frowned. “I didn’t call you anything. I was referring to the cookies. Do you want ginger or cream?”

  Daniella shook her head, feeling her heart return back to normal. “I’m fine.”

  “The last time I spoke to you,” Isabella said while pouring everyone a glass, “it sounded like you already have enough assignments and you usually get the ‘go-ahead’ from different editors. How are you going to afford this little venture of yours?”

  “I plan to use some of my savings and presently, my schedule over the next couple of months is clear. Besides, since I work freelance, I can schedule my own time.”

  “What if you dedicate all this time and no one wants the story?” Isabella said. As part of her responsibility for being the second eldest, Isabella seemed to spend most of her time worrying about her two younger sisters. She knew Mariella would and could take care of herself.

  “Besides,” Mariella added. “Didn’t you already write a piece about the accident and get it published? Or is this some other story? I’m confused.”

  Daniella gripped her hands together. “It won’t be the same story.”

  “But who will be really interested anymore? It’s been almost five months since the accident happened. All the notoriety has already died down.”

  “They’ll want it,” Daniella said, determined.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Daniella turned to Sophia, amazed. “You called Gabby, too?”

  Her friend shrugged and stood. “I wanted to cover all bases,” she said then opened the door.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Gabby said. She was the third Duvall sister and had Isabella’s kind smile and Mariella’s good looks, although she was the most full figured of the four sisters. “Did I miss anything?”

  “We’re just getting started,” Isabella said.

  Mariella held up her hand. “I’ve said all I need to.”

  Gabby hung up her coat in the hallway closet, greeted her younger sister and then took a seat beside Isabella. “I don’t blame you for wanting this man, Dani, he sounds amazing and so mysterious. I only saw a grainy image of him when the story was printed in the newspaper article you sent us about the accident. And I liked what I saw.”

  “I don’t want him,” Daniella said, losing patience. “I just want his story.”

  “What does he look like?” Mariella asked.

  Gabby looked at her sister, surprised. “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  “I’ve been busy,” Mariella replied, helping herself to another ginger cookie.

  “The only man she notices is Ian,” Isabella teased, referring to Mariella’s new husband.

  “The pictures I’ve seen haven’t been that good anyway,” Gabby said, trying to be fair. “He really doesn’t like the camera and keeps his head lowered. You can only see his profile.”

  “I bet you, that just getting a good shot of him would be a coup,” Sophia said as she keyed something into her cell phone.

  “You’re not helping,” Mariella said with a frown.

  “Just a comment.”

  “Here’s a picture,” Sophia said holding up her phone for everyone to see.

  “Hmm,” Mariella said, leaning in to get a better view.

  “He’s delicious,” Gabby said.

  “Why is everything a food reference with you?”

  “I like food.” She bit into one of the six cookies she’d taken.

  Mariella gazed over her sister’s full figure. “No one would argue that.”

  “Mariella,” Isabella scolded.

  Gabby raised her chin. “I don’t care, Tony likes me just the way I am.”

  Sophia waved her phone before Mariella could respond. “Do you want to see him or not?”

  Mariella squinted at the image. “You can hardly see anything.”

  “I’m using my imagination,” Gabby said.

  “He could certainly rescue me,” Isabella added.

  “He’s not that good-looking,” Daniella said.

  “Yes, you’re right,” Mariella agreed. “He has a hooded look. I’ve never liked that in a man. And his mouth is too grim, his jaw too prominent and harsh and his skin—”

  “He’s not that bad-looking,” Daniella said defensively.

  “I didn’t say he was bad-looking,” Mariella said then began to smile.

  Daniella inwardly groaned realizing she’d been tricked. She shook her head then folded her arms. “It’s not like that. I just want this particular story. I’ve always been interested in investigative journalism and now I have a perfect opportunity.”

  “And when did that start? When you were traveling to all the finest restaurants in Paris? Or when you were mountain climbing in Japan?” Mariella said.

  “Don’t make fun,” Isabella said. “She’s serious.”

  “Only because Pascal dared her to do it,” Sophia said.

  Mariella checked her manicure. “I don’t believe in challenges like that. I find them childish.” Her three sisters looked at her dumbfounded, remembering the time several years ago, when the four of them had made a pact to snag a certain man who was a promising catch for one of them.

  “It isn’t a dare,” Daniella countered. “It’s a chance to expand my portfolio.” And to prove that she was a serious writer. Editors only gave or accepted simple fluff pieces from her. She wanted more: more exposure, more pay, more respect. “I’ve made up my mind. Please let me live my life. I’ve never told any of you what to do and you’ve all done crazy things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Go after a man just for his money.”

  “That’s not fair,” Mariella said. “You tried to, too.”

  “Yes, but Gabby ran off with her fiancé’s best friend. And you smuggled drugs for the man you loved!”

  “I did not! It was all a misunderstanding!”

  “And what about Ian?”

  Mariella tensed. “What about him?”

  “There are still rumors that he married his father’s mistress.”

  Mariella jumped to her feet. “How dare you! You know that’s not true. I never—”

  “Then don’t read things into my life, either.”

  “I’m leaving. Where’s my coat?” she began pacing, but going nowhere.

  “Sit down, Mariella,” Gabby said.

  Mariella grabbed her jacket off the chair and headed for the door.

  “Coward,” Isabella said in a quiet voice.

  Her sister spun around. “What did you say?” She took several steps toward the group.

  Isabella stared at her unfazed, used to her sister’s outbursts. “You’re being stupid. Now sit down.”

  Mariella rested her hands on her hips. “Why is everyone picking on me?”

  Isabella patted the empty seat beside her. “Daniella has a point. We can’t tell her how to live her life when we’ve made interesting choices of our own.”

  Mariella returned to the couch with a scowl that did nothing to mar her pretty features. “You’re just trying to be so-called fair, because she hasn’t said anything about you.”

  Isabella turned to Daniella with a curious expression on her face. “No, she hasn’t. What do you want her to say about me?”

  Daniella couldn’t stop a smile. “Nothing. There isn’t anything to say.”

  Mariella rolled her eyes. “That’s only because her life is boring.”

  “That’s not true,” Gabby said. “She ended up marrying my ex-fiancé. I don’t think that’s boring.”

  “Only because you practically left him standing at the altar. She was a consolation prize.”

  Isabella playfully slapped her sister on the arm. “Oh, thanks a lot.”

  Mariella grimaced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

 
Sophia rested a hand on her chest signaling her loyalty to her sister-in-law. “I, for one, know that my brother is very happy with his choice and so am I.”

  Isabella grinned. “Thank you.”

  Mariella held up her hand. “We’ve completely veered off topic.” She pointed at Daniella. “You don’t have to listen to me or any of us, but I just feel that you’re going to get into some serious trouble if you have anything to do with this man.”

  “First of all he’s too old for her anyway,” Sophia said.

  “I don’t want him!” Daniella said exasperated. “I just want to write a story. I’ll be safe. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve traveled the globe more than four times alone and I’ve always returned home safely.”

  They ignored her.

  “He’s not that much older,” Isabella said. “And besides, Gabby married an older man.”

  “Older men are well seasoned, and can teach you quite a few things,” Gabby said with a sly grin.

  “You can teach the young ones, too,” Isabella said with a sly grin of her own.

  “What about a man who has been married before?” Sophia said. “He’s probably set in his ways.”

  “You can still change certain traits or ways that irritate or annoy you,” Mariella said with confidence.

  Daniella jumped to her feet exasperated. “Stop it! Just stop it. You’re all missing the point. I don’t want him as a man. I don’t need a new relationship right now. Richard Engleright is my ticket to a new life. A promotion where I will command admiration, where people come to me for advice, where editors clamor to give me assignments and accept whatever I send them because they know it will be good and they trust me. That’s all. I’ve been traveling and writing about fantastic places around the world, and I have done well for myself. But I’m ready for a change. I’m ready to try something different.”

  “We’re not here to stop you,” Isabella said.

  “Yes, we are,” Mariella countered. “You’re on the rebound from a terrible relationship with a bore. I don’t know why you still have anything to do with Pascal.”

  “He’s brilliant.”

  “Maybe, but his manners are why you dumped him. And nobody likes Pascal except you and I think it’s cruel that he’d taunt you so much that you feel you have to go after this stranger, who has the right to be left alone.”