ONE WIFE TOO MANY

by Susanne Marie Knight

  She would. Although with her dreams in tatters, whether she was in her right mind was debatable.

  The door to the outside proved difficult to open because of the howling wind. Finally she forced it open and stepped out onto the wooden deck with her shawl trailing behind her. The ship tossed to and fro, waves cresting high overhead.

  She'd never seen anything as powerful, as primal. Nature in action.

  Grabbing the railing, she clung to it as salt water drenched her. She didn't care. Her father had used her. Wilson had used her. Neither of them cared about her. She was alone. Always alone.

  She heard someone yelling to her. She twisted around and spotted a deckhand a short distance away from her, also soaked to the skin, calling to her, pleading with her.

  "Lady! Lady! Is dangerous. You go inside."

  She didn't want to go inside. Inside was where humiliation waited. As she turned back around, her foot slipped out of her thong sandal.

  Andrea leaned over to fix the shoe. If she had been unsteady on her feet before, now she was completely unbalanced. Another wave bludgeoned the deck, only this time it lifted her up, high into the air.

  "Help me! I can't swim!" The sound of her voice was lost in the roar of the wind and the waves.

  She heard faraway shouts of "Man overboard." The next second, she heard nothing at all. Swallowed whole into the belly of the ocean, Andrea flailed her arms. It was no use. Instead of bobbing to the surface of the water, she sunk farther and farther below.

  She had an eternity of seconds to contemplate her fate. Perhaps it was better this way--not that she had any other choice.

  Andrea released her last breath. She her body go limp, and waited to meet her Maker.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lost At Sea

  "Get off me, Dahlia. What the hell are you thinking?" In a reflex move, Will placed his hands on the woman's shoulders and pushed her up. The next second he was also on his feet. "What was that sound?"

  "What sound?" Dahlia took her time in adjusting the overly loose strap on her dress, which then, thankfully, covered her exposed breast. "Are you referring to that faint cry of 'Oh'?"

  He frowned. Fortunately Ernst hadn't walked in on that inappropriate display. Why in the world did Dahlia think her advances would be welcomed? He'd ended it with Ms. Give-It-To-Me-Rough well over a year ago.

  Sex aside, using brute force on a woman wasn't condoned, but damn, just this once, Will itched to slap the hell out of this bitch.

  "Yes, that. Did you see who it was?" Already he planned damage control. Whoever had seen the office tart on his lap might feel a need to gossip.

  Dahlia flipped back a hank of her dark hair and batted her long lashes at him. "I did. Guess what? It was your new little wife."

  Shit. Not Andrea.

  Will rushed past Dahlia, completely forgetting her. He headed for the stairs. Maybe Andrea had taken refuge back in their cabin.

  Ernst walked out of the men's room. "Will, what's the hurry? What about that drink?"

  As Will skimmed his hand over his hair, he exhaled a troubled breath. There'd be hell to pay--

  Loud mechanical sounds overrode the groaning complaints from the midsized yacht as it weathered the storm. Vibrations that he'd gotten used to since starting the voyage, now suddenly stopped.

  "They must've shut down the engines." Will turned away from his boss, intending to go up to the observation deck. "I'll find out the reason--"

  A deep, booming horn blasted through the air, interrupting him. It sounded again, then again. It was an alarm, an alarm that froze the blood in his veins.

  He had a feeling. A real bad feeling. What if... what if something had happened to Andrea?

  "Come outside with me," he ordered Ernst. "I'm worried about Andrea."

  Once up the stairs, Will paused to determine where the activity was. Starboard side. Without waiting for Ernst, he rushed out the door onto the deck.

  Several of the crew stood next to the railing, pointing. A motorized lifeboat had been lowered, manned by two crewmembers, and it zoomed in the direction pointed out by the staff on deck. Two more lifeboats were in the process of descending into the water. Beams of light also focused into the darkness behind them, searching the choppy seas.

  Will stopped one of the yacht's officers as the man hurried toward the bow of the ship where the bridge was located. "What's happening?"

  The officer darted his gaze to Ernst, who now stood out of breath by Will's side. "A young lady was swept overboard by the waves, sir. Just a few moments ago. We've contacted the Coast Guard. They're en route, plus search planes, patrol boats, and helicopters will be here shortly."

  Dear God. Will glanced over at Ernst, who had turned gray. He worked his mouth but no words escaped.

  Will intervened. "Do we know who she is?"

  The officer shook his head. "No, but crewman Iapeta saw what happened. I'll send him to you."

  Thanking the man, Will then took the unheard of liberty of putting his arm around Ernst's shoulders. For the first time since Will had known his boss, Ernst looked old.

  A young moon-faced man made his way through the tangle of people on deck to stand before them, drenched in his workclothes. He kept his head lowered and his hands behind his back. "I sorry, sirs. I see lady come out. Stand by railing. I yell to her. I rush to her, but am not close enough to reach quickly. Is dangerous, I say to her. Go back inside."

  The howling wind echoed the aching way Will felt inside. He swallowed down despair. "What happened then?"

  "She lean over to her feet. Maybe shoe loose? A nalu, wave, comes and takes her. I sound Man Overboard alarm."

  The deck started to fill up with curious passengers. Damn. Will spoke quickly before any member of Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen could overhear. "Tell me, what did this woman look like, Iapeta?"

  The man shook his head. "Sad, very sad. Then very scared. Hair short like child, bright like burning sun." He extended his hand. He held a thong sandal. "One shoe stays here. The other goes with lady."

  He felt Ernst shiver. Will gave his boss a reassuring pat, then reached over and took the sandal. The leather slip-on could've been Andrea's, but of course, he had no idea. It could've belonged to anyone.

  Iapeta extended his hand again. "And this stays on deck, too."

  Andrea's favorite shawl.

  Will accepted the sopping wet, lacy shawl as if it confirmed Andrea's death. Young, vibrant Andrea.

  He pressed the inconsequential garment next to his heart. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. There was still a chance...

  Ernst had to have recognized the shawl. He bleated a strange sound, and as he stared out, a milky film covered the striking blue of his eyes.

  Will felt as if he'd been stabbed twice by this horrific tragedy.

  His job now was to shelter Ernst from inquisitive glances. "Let's go inside and dry off, sir. We'll visit the bridge and get updates from the captain. What do you say?"

  Ernst moved in the direction Will pushed him, but obviously his heart and mind were astern, deep in the tropical waters of the Pailolo Channel.

  "My girl," Ernst croaked. "My Andrea can't be gone." He tugged on Will's shirt. "She can't swim, Will. She's always had a fear of drowning. She hates getting wet, especially her hair."

  What could Will say? Not knowing how to swim was another factor against her survival. She also probably panicked, and thrashed about in the ocean instead of floating or treading water.

  But on the plus side, the water temperature was mild. She probably wouldn't suffer from hypothermia. And this area of the islands were most likely relatively free from dangerous predators.

  Then again, sharks did haunt Hawaiian beaches from time to time.

  He hid his shudder. "You know, we could be premature about this...this being Andrea. I'll look in our cabin. I'll search for her."

  Patting his hand, Ernst gazed at him with blank eyes. "Yes, you do that. Maybe... Maybe it is somebody else."

  Sh
oulders slumped, Will led him into the yacht's bridge where the captain oversaw the search-and-rescue details. While the timing was too soon and he certainly didn't want to be pessimistic, he knew the odds for Andrea's survival weren't good.

  He swallowed a lump of sorrow. He was well aware that at some point, the search-and-rescue would be changed to search-and-recovery.

  Meaning in layman's terms, all hope for finding Andrea alive would be ended.

  * * * *

  Andrea inhaled deeply. Sweet, delicious air. She opened her eyes to a blur of rough waves, a sea of nothing but rough waves. There was motion, too. And a firm surface beneath her. Or perhaps two firm surfaces.

  She caught a flash of white and gray, and then she was below the water's surface.

  What was going on? Why was she in the ocean? She was afraid of the water. She couldn't remember--

  Hold your breath!

  The need to survive cut off all other thoughts. She held her breath until once again, she broke the surface. Not wanting to waste time, she inhaled as deeply as she could in preparation for the next dive.

  As she'd anticipated, submersion came again. This cycle repeated, rocking her in and out of consciousness. She didn't fight it, nor wonder about what was happening. The hows and whys of it weren't important. Somehow she knew that someone or something was bringing her to safety.

  Andrea silently thanked her benefactor and surrendered to oblivion.

  * * * *

  A blindingly bright sun seared through Andrea's closed lids. She groaned. Her entire body felt as if she'd been pummeled by rocks--stoned as if being punished for her sins.

  Sins? She had no memory of sinning. In fact, she had no memories of anything, really.

  With the crook of her elbow, she hid her eyes from the glare of the sun, then took stock of her surroundings. She lay sprawled on stones of various sizes. A pebble beach instead of a white, sandy one.

  There. That was a memory. Somehow she realized she was used to sandy beaches, not stone ones.

  She heard water gently lapping the shore, near where she lay disoriented. Evidently she'd washed ashore, but from where and how this happened, she had no idea.

  A quick glance revealed that this beach was deserted except for a nearby sea turtle. The huge reptile wasn't interested in her, though. It extended both flippers and slowly but single-mindedly, pulled itself over the uneven rocks, heading back into the water.

  Cool, soothing water.

  The sun, high in the sky, continued its relentless scorching of her skin. The dress she was wearing, strapless and tight around her bodice, had worked its way down, exposing her breasts.

  For a moment she considered the sight of her bare boobs as if she'd never seen them before. The whitened skin had turned vivid pink, a sure indicator that she was well on her way to a horrendous burn. Her toffee colored nipples were taut and erect, and also sensitive to touch.

  She quickly sat up and pulled up the top of her dress. Ouch! The simple action made her sun-cooked breasts feel as if they were on fire.

  It was then she noticed the heavy white gold band around her left ring finger. Was she married? Somehow she didn't think so, but then why else would she be wearing this cross-weave wedding ring?

  Never mind. She'd think about that later. If she didn't want to get completely roasted, she needed to get into the shade.

  Standing on the smoothed stones took a bit of doing, especially since she was barefoot, but she finally got to her water-wrinkled feet.

  High-pitched squeaks attracted her attention. She gazed out into the bay. Three beautiful dolphins, sleek and gray, cavorted in the water.

  These dolphins saved me!

  The knowledge hit her like a physical blow. She walked as fast as she could on the stones and entered the refreshing water up to her knees.

  "Thank you," she called out to them. "Thank you for saving me."

  All three emitted single-toned squeals as if replying to her. With flips of their tails, they disappeared below the water.

  Andrea smiled. As if the dolphins could see her, she waved goodbye, then trudged her way back onto the shore. Despite her body's soreness and her lack of memory, she felt good. At peace and harmony with nature.

  Except for her charbroiled skin.

  She'd remedy that right now. Heading for a grouping of lush, flowering trees, she stopped under a canopy of greenery to remove a pebble from the sole of her foot.

  Something tugged on the back of her dress. She turned.

  "Hey! Where'd you come from?" A boy, dark-haired, bronzed, blinked coal-black eyes at her. His baggy swimming trunks looked large enough to belong to a much older boy.

  Even though he had her attention, the boy continued to tug. If she wasn't careful, he'd pull down her dress.

  "Easy, there." She held the material tight and took a step away. "I might ask the same question of you, little one."

  The boy puffed out his immature chest. "I have nine and a half years, girl." He then pounded on his pectorals like he was Tarzan of the Jungle. "My name is Phillip Lawai'a, but everyone calls me Pilikia, the accident."

  "Why are you called 'the accident?'"

  "Mama Kalala always tells me I wasn't expected." The boy pointed his skinny finger at her. "Now you."

  "I'm, um, Andie." She knew her name was Andrea, and actually that was about all she could remember. But for some reason, the nickname came to her lips.

  Yes. Andie sounded better than Andrea.

  "Andie what? And where'd you come from?"

  She shrugged her violently pink shoulders. "I don't remember. I just washed up onshore over there. Three dolphins helped me. I don't recall anything else, not even my last name."

  "No way! Really?" He tugged on her again, but this time it was her hand. "C'mon. My brother Toma's right over there under the kukui tree. He's pretending to fish but he's really sleeping."

  Phillip pulled harder. "We gotta take you home with us. Mama Kalala won't believe me unless she sees you. I caught me a real live mermaid!"

  "Easy," Andrea cautioned again with her gaze focused on the sea of rocks below. "I'm barefoot."

  "So?"

  She winced as she stumbled on bumpy ground. "I'm not used to walking on stones."

  The boy shook his chubby head. "Haole! Okay, Andie. For you, I go slow."

  Phillip's idea of slow and hers weren't in synch, but Andrea followed behind him as best as she could. Perhaps at Mama Kalala's house she could rest and figure out what in the world had happened to her.

  And perhaps, more important than that, maybe she could get her memory back.

  * * * *

  Andrea felt at home in Mama Kalala's house. Which was odd since she knew that never in her life had she enjoyed a sense of family as she did right now, meeting the Lawai'as.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, she sipped on fragrant lemon tea and watched as the matriarch of the family diligently strip the shells from deep brown nuts. In a bowl off to the side were many round nuts, polished to a gleaming shine. Tools to bore holes in the nuts and twine to string them together also filled the table.

  What Andrea was seeing was a skilled artisan at work. The end result would be a beautiful Hawaiian necklace.

  She looked at her hostess. The woman's lustrous black hair was streaked with white, and she had it pulled back into a haphazard bun. By her girth, it was obvious she enjoyed her meals.

  And she was just as curious about Andrea as Andrea was about her. Mama Kalala's sharp-eyed gaze darted back and forth from Andrea to her work.

  "So, my Pilikia tells me you have lost your memory. How can that be, young one?"

  Andrea glanced around the kitchen, crowded with homemade crafts like feather leis, tattooed gourds, and rolled up cloths with intricate, wonderful patterns. What a gift to be able to create such beauty.

  Here, on the Big Island of Hawaii, as Thomas, Phillip's twenty-year-old brother, had explained to her, the economy was no longer based on sugar plantations but on tourism. Mama
Kalala's gift was one of necessity.

  "I don't know, Mama Kalala. I only remember being carried along, I think by dolphins, then waking up on the beach." Rubbing her saltwater-logged head to feel if she had any pain, she added, "Maybe I hit my head on something."

  "Perhaps," Mama Kalala said enigmatically. She fervently wiped off the edge of a wooden tool, which wobbled the skin on her upper arm. "You must have been on a boat or a cruise ship, and you got thrown overboard."

  None of that rang any bells. Andrea shrugged. "I don't remember."

  "We shall have to make inquiries, child. And you should see a doctor about your memory loss."

  "I suppose." Somehow, the thought of returning to her former life was repugnant. The longer she sat in this comforting kitchen, the more she didn't want to return to...to wherever she belonged.

  A wild idea hit her. Excited, she picked up one of the polished brown nuts and fingered its smooth surface. "Can't I just stay here with you, Mama Kalala? And with Phillip and Thomas? I won't be any trouble, and I can help you make these beautiful crafts. I'd love to learn. Please?"

  Her hostess shook her massive head. "No, child. Your family is out looking for you, even now. You wear a wedding ring, you know."

  Andrea glanced down at her left hand, then wrinkled her nose. "I don't feel married."

  "I do not feel married right now either, young one. But Mr. Lawai'a is still my husband, although he is not living here with me."

  Everything about this place and Mama Kalala fascinated Andrea. She inhaled deeply. Breezes laden with tropical scents swept into the small, homey kitchen. This was like paradise...and she needed to stay. She wanted to learn everything she could about the Lawai'as.

  "Where is Mr. Lawai'a, Mama Kalala?"

  The woman stood, then brushed fibers from the nuts off her flowered dress. "He works on O'ahu, at the airport. Our eldest, Nakana--Nathan, attends the university there, in Honolulu." She made a continental shrug. "School is expensive."

  While Mama Kalala washed her hands, Andrea wracked her brain for a solution to her dilemma. The life she'd left behind held nothing but sorrow. Even without her memory, she knew that for a fact.

  "Mama Kalala, if I can't find out who I am and where I belong, then may I stay here awhile? I'll get work in town and help you with your crafts here." She folded her hands under the table and prayed. "I can be a boarder. Live in your son Nathan's room."