by Kim Pritekel
The attorney smiled, gently pulling away. He gave the blonde a kiss on the cheek and a blinding smile. "Thank you, Garrison. It seems like such a simple, completely under whelming phrase, but it's the best I can do on such short notice."
Garrison chuckled, reaching up to palm the man's clean-shaven cheek. "Tell him hello for us, ‘kay?"
Dean nodded. "Will do."
Garrison turned to see Rachel walking toward her, the pilot immediately taking her into her arms for a quick hug. Parker had been beside herself, able to spend time with the famous writer. The teen was a bit of a writer herself, but just hadn't been able to find the confidence within herself to truly explore her creative world. Seeing a real, flesh and blood author, who had been able to make a life of writing, Parker was edging toward her dream. Garrison chuckled when she went in to wake Parker up so the girl could say goodbye to everyone, and she had a signed copy of Rachel's novel clutched to her chest.
"Thank you so much, Garrison. Without you and Keller, I don't know if we ever would have made it back."
"It was certainly my pleasure, Rachel." The pilot looked into troubled green eyes. She had no idea what lay beyond the pained expression, but hoped the author could work through it. Perhaps finally going home would help.
Keller stood back, watching the last of the goodbyes with a broad smile. One by one, the survivors boarded the plane. She put her arm around Garrison's shoulder, feeling her partner's head rest on her shoulder. The door was pulled into place, the plane sealed up and readied for takeoff. Neither pilot could find the words to express how she felt, seeing the first wave of the rescued returning to their lives. They'd cried along with Duke and his family, and the three islanders as they'd re-connected with their loved ones over the phone. Only Dean didn't make a call, which had been difficult for the attorney. He had paced the house, glancing at every phone he passed.
"Truly amazing," Garrison said at long last.
"Yeah. You ready to go back out?"
"Definitely. I wish you could go with us." The blonde sighed, squeezing Keller before letting her go.
"Me, too. We'll be waiting here for you." She gave Garrison a quick kiss and wishes of good luck, watching as the blonde walked over to Duke, ready to go out for round two. Keller turned back toward the rising sun, its brilliance catching her eyes and making them glow. She watched the small plane purr its way along the tarmac, taxiing into position. She couldn't help but wonder what lie ahead for the occupants. How could they possibly return to life as normal after what they'd been through? Mia had stayed on the phone with her mother late into the night, laughing, crying, and reacquainting.
As Keller walked over to Duke's truck, ready to head back to his house where Parker was very likely still asleep, she wished she could be a fly on the wall, watching what would undoubtedly be very emotional reunions.
* * *
Denny slicked her hair back from her face, bringing the long, wet rope of hair over her shoulder to wring it out. As the cold droplets ran down over her front, making her gasp slightly, she took in all that surrounded her. The colors, vibrancy and island had become old hat after so long, the brunette no longer seeing the beauty that was her world. Now, knowing that it would all be gone soon, she saw it again through new eyes, trying to memorize every detail, every memory, every bit of luscious growth and natural song.
It had been a restless night for all three of them, each lost in what would be once they returned to their lives, as well as reliving what had gotten them there in the first place. Denny was woken up more than once by nightmares that she hadn't had in nearly a year. Again, she'd found herself strapped in that seat, submerged under millions of gallons of water, and heading into black depths.
Feeling as though she were suffocating, the brunette had woken with a loud gasp, frantically trying to get to the surface, only to find strong arms wrapped around her, and a deep, comforting voice in her ear. It's alright, darlin'. I got'cha.
It had taken nearly an hour for her heart to calm, and the visions to leave her mind. She remembered the screams of panic and fear as the plane had been heading toward the water, the fear rising up like sour bile in her throat.
Denny climbed up to the ledge to allow her skin to dry in the air, which was already warming. She stared up into the sky, just burgeoning with color. She'd never look into such a pure sky again, and that made her sad. She thought about her hustle and bustle world back in New York, and wondered if she'd ever truly be able to rejoin that, knowing what it was like to take life in stride, in no hurry, as it made things happen no sooner. On the island she'd learned to relish smells, textures and sights. She'd learned that when beauty was ignored, it seldom came around a second time. A bird, filled with color and inspiring awe, if not studied and appreciated in the moment, it would fly away, perhaps never to be seen again. She'd even caught Dean daydreaming now and then.
Hearing a bird's early call, Denny thought about music for some reason. That was one thing she couldn't wait to get back to. Such a simple thing, but one that had always been singularly important to the brunette. She couldn't sing, had no talents in playing an instrument, but it had been a part of her soul since she'd been a small child, and not a day went by that she didn't spent at least a few hours filling her soul's need for it. She had found herself humming or singing softly to herself throughout the duration of her stay on the island. It would calm and sooth frazzled nerves, or ease her bouts of homesickness.
Lying on the ledge, Denny knew she was a short time away from returning to all that was normal and conditioned to her. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach, various luxuries floating before her mind's eye, things she looked forward to getting back to, using or tasting. Or hearing. Her beloved MP3 player had gone down with the plane, a fact that almost saddened her more than losing her contact lenses. The brunette chuckled at that. She certainly wouldn't miss the eye-strain headaches.
* * *
Michael tossed another pebble into the incoming surf, his other wrist dangling on his bent knee. The sun had come up, and a new, fresh day was upon them. Now what? Did he go fish for breakfast? Climb a tree and make it a cocoanut and berry morning? How much time and effort before the plane came back? Was it coming back?
It had been a long night, thinking about his kids, and wondering how they'd managed without either of their parents. No doubt they'd gone to Melissa's parents, which was a good place for them. The mechanic was worried about his youngest, who was sometimes unnaturally attached to his mother. How had he handled the news that she was gone?
Michael truly had no idea how to relate to his children with their mother dead. She had always been the buffer, the nucleus of their family, and the one they all revolved around. Now what? And how could Michael face his kids, beat down with the guilt that he had survived and Melissa had not? How did he explain that to them? To Mel's parents? To the world? Had he tried hard enough? Had he fought the water and situation enough, or had he done something horribly wrong, allowing her to die?
Bringing up a large hand, the Texan wiped it across his grizzled face before absently tugging at his beard. He couldn't get that thing off too soon. He wasn't keen on the mountain man look. He had to grin as he imagined that being the first thing Dean had done when he got back to civilization. He was happy for his friend that Will had never given up. Michael wondered if could have had the same tenacity, had it been Melissa. Or would he have just rolled over in saddened resignation? He hoped to one day meet the man who kept Dean going. A strange thought, for sure. Michael never thought about no man being banged by another guy, and saw queers as the sexual perverts they were perceived and portrayed as being. But one look into the tortured soul of Dean, and the mechanic realized that just maybe there was more to it than that. Just maybe the two men felt about each other as he felt for Melissa.
The whole world had turned upside down. Certainly Michael's. The thought was barely let loose in his head when he heard the familiar droning of engines. Pushing to his feet, he walked
out toward the water's edge, raising his hand to his eyes, trying to figure which way the plane was coming in from.
"I am not looking forward to getting on that plane," Pam said softly as she stepped up beside him. He grunted in agreement. The seaplane made a magnificent splash as it touched down, then threw waves of water behind it as it cruised in. Soon they were joined by Denny.
"Guess this is it," she said softly, feeling Pam take her hand in her own.
"Yeah. Guess so."
"I sure am gonna miss you gals," Michael admitted, watching as the plane slowed, the body surging gently over the waves it had created.
"Same here." Denny turned to the other two, smiling as they all came in together for a tight group hug. The brunette felt her stomach roiling in waves of nervous excitement.
"Hello!" Garrison yelled as she stepped out onto the floater above the wheel. Her wave was returned by three more. Once again, she found herself wading through the water toward the island, able to focus more on her surroundings this time. It was beautiful, no doubt, but she just couldn't wrap her mind around trying to survive with nothing more than nature and your own wits. "Are you all ready to head back to civilization?" she asked, splashing onto the shore.
"Hell, yes!" Pam said, taking the pilot in a hearty hug.
"Well, let's get you all home. There are some happy reunions taking place as we speak." Garrison was grinning from ear to ear, thinking that the other three had probably landed in New York no more than forty minutes ago.
As they all piled in, Denny looked out the window. It was so strange to see the island from the other side of the glass. When she looked at the white beach, she didn't see sand and incoming surf: she saw their almost daily game of cocoanut ball, or their nightly campfire. She saw Dean prancing around in his sarong, finally clean and ready to tell their limited world about it. She saw Michael's red face every time he had to use the food masher. She saw Pam's easy smile and the way she had mothered all of them through the most trying times of their lives. She saw Mia's laughter and tears, and Rachel's lovely eyes and deep insights into the psychology of humanity. She saw them as a family, a unit and bonded for life in a way no one back home could ever understand.
Pam braced herself as the plane was moving, swallowing hard to keep her newly acquired fear of flying in check. Though she wished they could have sent a boat to get them, she knew it was a necessary evil. Her knuckles were white as she grasped the armrests.
"It's gonna be okay," Michael whispered from behind her. She nodded, though simply for response than because she believed it.
Once they were in the air, Garrison turned around from the co-pilot seat. She pushed a blue and white cooler back until it bumped against Denny's bare foot. "Figured you guys may want something other than fish." She grinned, then turned back front.
Denny reached down, unlatching the white, plastic lid, her mouth watering at what she saw inside. She held up a can of gloriously cold Coca-Cola, looking back for any takers. Michael nearly jumped out of his seat as he reached over to take it. She handed an identical can to Pam, taking a bottle of orange juice for herself. The turkey and cheese sandwiches were accepted with relief as everyone dug in.
"Welcome back, gang!" Garrison called back over the roar of the engines.
PART 13
REENIE WAS ALMOST vibrating, the excitement making her body flush, palms sweaty as she repeatedly wiped them on the thighs of her jeans. Beside her stood a very anxious Gloria, who had started to pace once more in the tiny terminal for private planes, connected to the main airport at BUF. They had been waiting for the past hour, all three, Gloria, Lizbeth and herself, growing more anxious by the minute.
The editor had had next to no sleep the night before, arranging to get Rachel home, as well as her mind was wide awake no matter what her exhausted body had to say. She had left a message on Matt's phone, but he had yet to return it. It had been a fight with herself to not just hop a plane anyway, and go to Rachel. She missed her with everything inside her, and was beside herself to see the blonde again. It had been miracle of miracles, and the dark-eyed woman couldn't keep her emotions under control. She'd been crying off and on since she'd received one of the most important phone calls of her life.
After hanging up with Rachel, Reenie had cleared everyone out of her loft, not saying a word. She didn't think Rachel would want a media circus just now, and had tried to call Gloria, only to get sent directly to the Italian woman's voicemail. From that point, she'd hopped into a cab and raced over to Carrie Tillman's. Together they devised a plan. Carrie assured Reenie she'd get Rachel home as quietly as possible, though Reenie was warned that the publisher would want to milk as much publicity out of this as possible.
Outside the massive windows, a plane was coming in for a landing. A small plane. A private plane. Lizbeth said something to her granddaughter in Italian, Gloria smiling as she turned to see what the old woman was pointing at. Gloria looked over at Reenie, and they both took a deep breath.
"I can't believe this is happening," Gloria whispered, hands wringing in front of her.
"I know. If I didn't believe in God before, I do now," Reenie blew out. The three watched in silence as the plane landed, then taxied over toward them, crew members out on the tarmac directing the small plane in to a bright white X painted on the ground.
Gloria wanted so badly to run out that door, down the stairs and to that plane, but knew it wasn't possible. The man who had directed them there was stern in his instructions that they were to wait in the lobby. He said they weren't even supposed to be there, but circumstances being what they were, the airport had relented.
"Holy god, that must be Dean," Reenie whispered, watching as a thin, very tan, man stepped out of the plane, dressed in a simple polo shirt that looked to be a little too large, and a pair of cargo shorts. His face was clean shaven, but his dark brown hair was long and shaggy. The editor held her breath when she saw the sunlight glint off of a white shoe as someone else neared the open door. From the whimper she heard to her left, she knew it was Mia.
Gloria hadn't even realized she'd made a sound, her heart pounding, eyes already stinging. She couldn't take her eyes off of her daughter. "Oh my god," she said, voice cracking on the last word. "She's so thin."
"She's alive, my child," Lizbeth said, equally unable to take her eyes from the sight. Next a petit blonde stepped off the plane, her hair blowing around her head and shoulders as a slight breeze caught it. Gloria sucked in a breath.
"That's Rachel Holt,"
Reenie ran over to the door, face almost pressed to the glass as she watched the three being led toward the steep, narrow iron staircase. She was openly crying now, unable to take her eyes off Rachel. She couldn't believe how long her hair had gotten, how thin she was, and when green eyes rose to meet her own, Reenie was taken aback again by the deep sadness that filled them. Stepping away from the door only because she had to allow them to enter, Reenie flew back the instant the door was out of the way.
"Reenie!" Rachel cried, grabbing her best friend and pulling her close. She was stunned to see how hard the editor was crying, having never seen the woman cry in all their years of friendship. The display of emotion got her own tears going again. And just when she didn't think she had any tears left.
"Oh, Rachel," Reenie cried into the blonde's neck, almost crushing the author to her. "I thought you were dead," her words were almost unintelligible with the intensity of her emotion. Rachel said nothing, just held her, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Mamma!" Mia almost bowled Rachel and the editor over in order to get to her mother. Gloria met her halfway, the impact making them both lose their balance. Gloria barely managed to keep them both standing. She crushed Mia to her before pushing her away, needing to see for herself that she was okay, that she was alive! She touched the girl's face, her hair, saw Mia's overwhelmed emotion, much like her own. Pulling Mia back to her, she held her tight, rocking her just like she did when she was a child.
Mia had never felt so much relieved comfort in her entire life. The feel of her mother's arms around her, the sight of her even, brought her back to the days when she cried at a scraped knee, needing her mothers warm, comforting touch and words to let her know it was all okay.
"We had a funeral for you," Reenie cried, pulling back just enough to be able to look into green eyes, made verdant from the tears. "Goddamn you, don't you ever do that again!"
Rachel almost laughed as she was pulled into another bear hug. "I'm so sorry," she finally whispered. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you, too." Sniffling and attempting to get herself under control, Reenie smiled through her tears, bringing a hand up to touch the author's face. "I'm jealous of your tan."
Rachel did laugh, leaning into the touch.
"You're so thin, Rach. And your hair is so long," the editor ran her fingers through it. She just couldn't get her mind to wrap around what was happening, that Rachel was alive after just shy of fifteen months.
"I know," the blonde touched her own hair, so glad to have it clean and combed. She looked behind Reenie's shoulder to see Mia's reunion with her mom. The look on the woman's face made Rachel tear up all over again. An older woman stood off to the side, watching, her hands at her mouth. A rosary dangled from her clasped fingers.
"Mamma," Mia said, swiping at her face and taking deep breaths. "I want to introduce you to two very important people." Turning, she saw Rachel standing with a woman with short, dark hair, their arms around the other's waist, and Dean, who stood off to the side, his face flushed and moist from the touching scene. "This," she reached her arm out for Dean, who quickly entered the girl's personal space. "is Dean."
"Oh, Dean," Gloria said, taking the attorney in her arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. Without your Will, I wouldn't have my baby back."
