by Kim Pritekel
“Gloria,” Nonna said, her voice soft, accent lilting in the early summer day. When she had her granddaughter’s attention, she continued. “Why you no have some fun, eh? I can take care of a myself.”
“No, Nonna,” Gloria shook her head, sighing deeply as she hailed them a taxi. There was no way she was going to make her grandmother ride the train, only in town a week. “I’ve got to work.”
Lizbeth shook her head sadly, groaning slightly as she tucked herself into the back of the yellow cab.
* * *
Denny stopped, bending at the waist to rest her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart and burning lungs. The island so early in the morning was an incredible sight to behold, the colors sparkling over the water, white sand beaches almost glowing pale in the birth of a new day. Rising to her full height, she rested her hands on her hips, gently summer breeze drying sweat-kissed hair, making her shiver slightly. Never a runner back home, on the island she found it to be calming, as well as gave her time to herself, a chance to think and find joyous, and so rare, solitude.
Blowing out a breath, she watched in awe as the sun slowly broke the surface of the distant watery horizon, making her squint at its brilliance. If someone didn’t believe in God, this would make them think about changing their mind. It seemed only a divine entity could create such breathtaking beauty. No wonder so many crazy stories were created to explain the unexplainable mysteries of life in Greek, Roman and Christian mythology. Never in Buffalo had she been able to see anything even half as spectacular.
Reaching behind herself, she untied the material of her pseudo bra, allowing her breasts the freedom to dry uninhibited by the tightly pulled cotton. She was a larger breasted woman, and the lack of a real, structured bra had taken its toll, her breasts aching and her back yelling at her from time to time. How on earth did women do it before the invent of the brazier? Smiling at the thought, she slapped the damp garment over a piece of drift wood that was often used as a seat, then untied the sarong at her waist, letting it fall to the sand at her feet.
The cool waters of the ocean felt marvelous against her heated skin, the brunette diving down into the depths , allowing her muscles to stretch and her body to soar. She caught sight of a few fish, just starting their day, their bright colors muted by the depths. Learning the hard way not to stray too far in the early morning hours, Denny made her way back to shore. The sight of a dorsal fin, not thirty yards from her during a late night swim had cured her of ever wanting to see Jaws again.
Like Aphrodite emerging from the waters, Denny broke the surface, water trailing down her long body in rivulets, kissed by the golden sunlight of dawn. She ran her hands over her face, then her hair, pushing the wet strands back to flop against her mid-back. She noted the way the rising rays were casting sharp shadows against the foliage that formed a barricade behind the beach, the rock facings winking in shadow and moss-covered landscapes.
“Wow,” she breathed, taking it all in. Truly a masterpiece.
Rinsed off, Denny decided to go bathe and start her day before the mad dash for privacy began. Grabbing her sarong and top, she flopped them over her shoulder, walking naked to the rock she’d placed her soap on, then headed into the jungle, heavily calloused feet barely registering any change in terrain. The warming months had brought warm rain with them, and the waterfall was doing overtime. The spill could be heard within half a mile of it, before the sound was eaten up by the dense foliage. Humming softly to herself, the brunette noticed the island starting to come to life, a few colorful birds watching her from their high perches, as well as unseen rodents scurrying into hiding.
Denny’s humming and steps faltered as she heard whistling not too far up the path. Quickly tying her sarong and top in place, she broke through the trees, frozen to the spot. Rachel was standing just beside the rock ledges that curved around to the waterfall wall, her back bare, and facing the brunette. She still wore her sarong, but was about to untie it when the blonde stopped, cocking her head to the side, almost as though she knew she were being watched. Denny watched with baited breath as Rachel’s green eyes met her own, the author slowly turning to fully face her, her top in her hands. They stared at each other for long moments, neither moving or saying a word.
Months ago Denny had started pulling away, but then she got so far, she had no idea how to come back. Now, standing face to face with the woman who haunted her waking and sleeping moments, she could do nothing but stay rooted to the spot, hungry eyes drinking in the precious sight that would sustain her. Rachel made no move to put her top back on, and blue eyes took her in from the waist up, beautiful, perfectly shaped breasts, small enough to remain firm, but large enough to make Denny’s mouth water. The skin was pale, rosy tips slightly puckered. She could see Rachel was breathing heavily, her breasts heaving with every intake and exhale.
Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off Denny’s, seeing the hunger and desperate want in their turbulent depths. It scared her and aroused her beyond anything she’d ever known. Her body was responding in ways that shocked her. Denny had made no movement, as though she were frozen, which surprised the blonde. She had expected her to run off like a frightened deer, as she’d been doing since Christmas. Something inside the author spoke to her, telling her to move, to go to Denny, so she did. The brunette swallowed visibly as Rachel got closer, until they were standing toe to toe.
Denny looked down into Rachel’s eyes, which seemed remarkably calm, though they were alive and burning. Denny wanted to speak, to say something to dilute the intensity of the moment, but it was almost as if her brain had shut itself down, her throat parched and lips numb. Her eyes slid half-closed as a hand came up, resting against her jaw, the brunette’s own hands traitorous as they encircled a slim waist, feeling the softness of Rachel’s naked flesh. She had no idea who initiated it, but her eyes closed the rest of the way as she felt soft lips against her own, just a touch, then a return touch, this time more solid, the fullness of the author’s lips pressing into her own.
Rachel brought the hand up from Denny’s jaw, entwining her fingers gently into long, wet strands of hair, made stiff from the saltwater of the ocean. The fit of their lips was perfect, softness like the blonde had never known. She could taste salt upon Denny’s lips, and wanted to taste more, yet had no idea how to precede. The warm hands at her waist moved, sliding up the length of Rachel’s strong back, kneading the skin and muscle as they went, until finally those hands and fingers were running through the strands of Rachel’s hair, running to the length, allowing the strands to fall back between Rachel’s shoulder blades before capturing the back of her head, the kiss deepening.
Denny stepped closer, feeling the warm softness of Rachel’s breasts press against her own, the blonde gasping slightly at the material of Denny’s top, made wet by her sea-wet flesh. Opening her mouth, the brunette silently asked for permission to enter, which was quickly granted. Rachel sighed into the kiss, feeling her heart lighten even as her body tensed, waves of budding pleasure spreading through her as she pressed their bodies together, needing to feel the steady strength of Denny against her.
Denny felt her own body begin to pulse, and knew she had to stop this before she couldn’t stop it. Breaking the kiss, she rested her forehead against Rachel’s, both breathing heavily.
“Damn it,” she whispered, eyes closed as her fingers continued to play in the golden strands of Rachel’s hair.
“I know,” the blonde agreed, stroking the tanned skin of Denny’s shoulders and upper back.
“I’m sorry, Rachel,” Denny said, a slight whimper in her voice. Her body was thrumming with need, though her brain was screaming. “I just can’t.”
“I know. I know.” Though Rachel was trembling, she could hear the pain in the brunette’s voice, and knew right now Denny needed her to be strong for her, and to be understanding. She gathered Denny’s head in her arms and pulled her gently to rest against her shoulder, holding her close. Squeezing her
eyes shut, Rachel ordered her body to calm, her heart still racing, the ache between her legs and in her breasts painful. Her erect nipples had been made even harder by the cold, wet material of Denny’s covering, and now they were ultra super sensitive. How could Hell feel like such Heaven?
Denny allowed herself to be comforted, guilt of two varieties waging a battle within her. How could she do this to Hannah? How could she do this to Rachel? She tried to pull away, but was held fast, Rachel whispering for her to stay, so she did. She basked in the warmth, not only physical, of the smaller woman, needing it more than she ever had. A question arose.
“Do you think Hannah has moved on?”
The question was spoken so soft, and so unexpectedly, Rachel almost missed it. She thought about her answer for a moment. “I don’t know, Denny. We’ve been gone so long, surely no one has put their lives on hold for us. They can’t.”
Finally Denny did pull away, but only enough to look into beautiful green eyes, so filled with compassion, and … love? Denny threw that thought out of her head. It didn’t matter right then. “Am I a fool to hold on, Rachel?” she whispered, desperation in her voice. Rachel reached a hand up, pushing away a drying strand of hair from the perfect face before her.
“No. I think you’re a wonderfully loyal, loving woman who Hannah would be a fool to move on from.” She met the troubled blue gaze. “But ultimately you’ll have to understand that things have changed, for everyone. None of us are the people we were when we got here, and I’d wager no one back home is, either.” She returned the small smile she saw grace full lips that had been so wonderful only moments before. “Wash my back?”
Denny chuckled, stepping fully away. “I’d better not.” Rachel nodded in understanding, her own body still buzzing. “I’m going to start gathering breakfast for everyone.”
“Okay.” The author watched Denny disappear back through the trees until she was gone, then with a heavy sigh, returned to her morning bath.
* * *
“It’s been one year today since the tragic crash of flight 1049, hundreds of miles off course due to instrument failure, and ultimately it was determined engine failure. What has become of the Lucky Three in the twelve months since they were pulled from the waters of the Caribbean? Have they been able to lead normal lives? How are they dealing with the loss of their loved ones, who were left behind to face a watery grave? All over the country private memorials are attended by hundreds to commemorate the deaths of the other two hundred and sixty-three people who lost their lives in one of the most tragic plane crashes since flight 800. Join us tonight on Action News at-“
Reenie pushed the power button on the remote control, the TV clicking off. Turning back to her guests, she sighed sadly. “I can’t believe it’s been a year.”
“I know,” Gloria Vinzetti said, nodding. They turned to see Will, the man who had brought them all together, staring out the window of Reenie’s high-rise loft.
“You okay, Will?” the editor asked, sipping from her bottle of spring water. The architect nodded, but said nothing. They had all decided, on the one year anniversary, to get together and decide what, if anything, they wanted to do with the rescue expeditions. Should they continue, should they give up and accept the fact that their loved ones were gone for good. Milton Bryce, another man they’d met at October’s memorial also joined them, having lost his wife and two daughters on flight 1049.
“Well, I need to get to work here soon, so lets get talking,” Milton said with a heavy sigh, looking at the others in the room, meeting their eyes, all much like his: sad and empty. He’d lost his world on that plane.
Will sighed heavily, able to feel three pairs of eyes boring into his back. He knew they all waited for a report from him, of his and Keller’s last flight. Turning away from the window, hands resting on his hips, he reached up, adjusting his loosened tie. “I think we should stop.” The silence that filled Reenie’s loft was like the quiet of a tomb, each in shock at his calm, firm announcement. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Five trips,” he held up his hand, fingers spread wide, “five. All that time, energy and money, and for what? We’ve found nothing, hell, we haven’t even found nothing. It’s all just water, bleak, dark, cold and empty ocean. There’s nothing there.”
Reenie felt her heart fall. Though she had felt it was a fool’s errand to ever start searching, she had allowed her heart to fill with a small bit of hope. Hell, if three could survive it, why not three more? One more? Swallowing, she got her disappointment under control.
“What do the rest of you think?” the editor asked, looking at Gloria and Milton in turn. “Do you think we should stop?”
Milton felt his anger bubble up, exploding with red face and vein-ridden neck. “Goddamn it, Will! You got us all hyped up on this hair brained idea of yours, and now you just wanna give it all up?”
“I don’t see any other choice, to be perfectly honest. I can’t keep doing this every damn time. Do you have any idea what it’s like to go up there in that helicopter or airplane, your hopes flying as high as the engines will allow, only to fall short of anything but profound disappointment? Well, I can’t do it anymore. If any of you would like to volunteer to take a trip or two, then fine, do it. But I can’t. I won’t.”
“We need to make a decision. Garrison and Keller will be here soon,” Gloria reminded.
“She’s right,” Reenie said, like Gloria, sensing that a fight could break out between the two male types in the room. They had to deliver a decision to the rest of those who were funding the expeditions, and who had given their hopes and prayers to the small group leading the mission, resting them in their hands.
“I say we stop,” Will said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I think it’s done.” It hurt like hell to say it, but it needed to be said. The hope and acute disappointment was eating him alive.
“Okay,” Gloria said, her words soft. They all knew none of this would have happened if not for the determination of Will, so she was willing to listen and agree. Reenie also nodded. Milton shoved away from the table and out onto Reenie’s balcony. The other three remained silent, filled with an assortment of emotions and feelings; guilt. Were they giving up too soon? Foolishness- was it crazy to ever think anyone else survived? Grief- the final connection to hope was being cut as they sat around.
With relief and dread, Reenie answered the knock at her door, knowing it was Garrison and Keller, come to get the final tally. The editor smiled as she let the pilots in, followed by their fifteen year old ward, Parker. “Come on in, ladies.” With a heavy sigh, she closed the door and leaned against it, eyes briefly squeezing shut before pushing away from it and joining the others.
Garrison looked around, getting a pretty good idea of what had been said before they arrived, by the looks on the three faces before them, and then that of Milton Bryce, standing in the doorway of the French doors leading to the balcony, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips.
“You guys are stopping the expedition,” the blonde pilot said, meeting each gaze in turn. Most looked away or simply nodded. Garrison was surprised to feel her heart break, somehow hoping that the group would decide to continue. She had wanted so desperately to find something, anything for them, even if it was just a piece of luggage for a last physical link. Sighing, she sat heavily in the chair Milton had vacated, Keller standing behind her, hands absently rubbing her shoulders.
“Are you sure?” the brunette said. No one answered. “Okay.”
* * *
“You are so full of crap, Dean! You did, too move that piece when I went to the bathroom,” Mia complained, staring down at the checker board they’d made in the sand, rocks as their pieces.
“I did not!” the attorney defended, looking to Denny and Rachel, who were busy eating bananas and staring at each other. “Ladies? Can you defend me, here, or are you too busy making oogly eyes at each other?”
“Huh?” Denny asked, realizing she was indeed being spoken to. She blushe
d deeply, knowing full well she’d been busted watching Rachel’s lips as she ate her lunch, the soft, pink tongue poking out now and then to snag a bit of runaway banana from her lip. “Oh, uh, didn’t see it.”
“Small wonder,” Dean groused, Mia giggling behind her hand. Rachel was also an unnatural color of red.
“Sorry, guys.”
“Y’all might wanna consider folding everything up. Looks like we got ourselves an ugly coming.” At Michael’s words of warning, everyone looked up into the sky. The clouds were dark and brewing, distant rumbling indicative of what was to come.
“Oh, man,” Dean whined with a heavy sigh. He yelled out when he saw Mia take out three of his men. “Hey!” The girl gave him a shit-eating grin. Wiping out their board, he muttered. “Storm’s coming.”
“Sore loser.”
“Better than being a plain loser,” the attorney mumbled, getting to his feet.
“Oh, that’s mature.” Mia followed him toward their shelters. They were schooled in the art of escaping a big storm, now, though every time one came in, they all held their collective breath, hoping it wasn’t a hurricane, or a tropical storm bigger than the first one that blew in. More than likely, nothing on the island would survive it.
Denny felt like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She had no idea she was so transparent. She and Rachel had kissed more than two weeks ago, and it hadn’t happened again, but she still felt that kiss all the way down to her toes. The brunette just couldn’t let it go, no matter how hard she tried. Thought she and Rachel were spending time together again, she still made sure it was with at least one other person there with them; she didn’t trust herself.
