by Pepper Pace
“Yuck. As if I want the hut smelling like pee.” He had added a window which helped with cross ventilation and now the hut didn’t get quite as stifling hot during the day.
Marshall lifted her easily from the hammock and carried her out of the hut before setting her down gently on her feet. She grimaced and stretched her back.
“Ugh, I can’t wait until the bed is made. That hammock is killing my back.” He handed her a dipper of water.
“I’ll rub it when we get back.”
She drank some and then splashed her face. She was just wearing a skirt, topless because of her swollen belly. Marshall felt himself stirring at the sight of her larger breasts and oversized nipples. They had resumed making love, tentatively at first, but then with renewed enthusiasm. But now that Oceans was bigger it was becoming more difficult for her to find a comfortable position. For the last few weeks he had resumed pleasuring himself on the rock wall, imagining a time when he would be allowed to pull her darkened nipple into his mouth and suckle until his mouth filled with her warm, sweet milk…
“Marshall! Ow!” Oceans was rubbing her side. “Ow!” She said again, and this time she doubled over.
He was immediately pulling her into his arms again. It couldn’t be labor! It was too early…
“It doesn’t feel right…” She moaned.
“What?” His face went pale.
“Feels like someone just speared me in the side.” She looked at him, worry and fear on her face. “It’s too early but it hurts so bad. What if…”
“Shhh, no what-ifs.” He rubbed her back until the pain subsided and then she straightened.
“That was a contraction, Marshall.”
He nodded. “We need to start keeping track of how far apart they are.” He led her to a large rock on the outskirts of their camp where she knelt in order to do her morning business. He returned and began boiling water. He needed to sterilize the hunting knife as well as some string. Quickly, he spread the larger pieces of animal fur on the mat—the ones that he would use for their bed when it was completed. By then Oceans had hobbled back to the encampment, holding her side.
“You alright, honey?” He asked as he helped her down onto the fur. She nodded, looking miserable. She was far from alright. As the day wore on, Oceans was haunted by thoughts of her attempted abortion. What if the baby had a birth defect? What if their child needed doctors, an incubator, medicine? She felt sure that she would be punished for her deeds. In those moments that she waited for her baby to be born, Oceans was not fearful of the pain or that she might even die. The only thing she cared about was that their baby was born normal despite all that she had done.
Marshall could read her fear because it mirrored his own. But he felt no sense of blame towards her, not because his love for her was almost desperate, but because he understood Oceans. He knew that if Oceans believed she was right than nothing—not even he would sway her. He was proud of the fierceness of her conviction.
He knelt down and placed his lips against her face. “Our baby is going to be okay. We’re strong and our baby is strong. Your belly has grown so full and we can feel him moving and kicking. If she’s a girl than we are going to have a fine soccer player on our hands.” Oceans reached up and stroked his long hair. Everything he said was true. The baby moved constantly.
Later, as the sun was setting and Oceans was close to passing out from exhaustion, a dark curly head finally emerged.
He wanted to say, push, it’s almost over. But the words wouldn’t come. His baby was there and all he could do is stare in amazement as the head peaked through momentarily, only to disappear from view. Then he understood that the baby wasn’t coming. It couldn’t emerge and Oceans was too exhausted.
“Oceans!” He screamed. “The head is here. Honey, you have to push, please baby, push!” With glazed eyes, Oceans came up on her elbows and gave it all she had. Suddenly there felt like an explosion within her and the baby was free and Marshall was clutching the slippery little thing in his hands.
All Marshall could see was a head covered in black hair and a squirming little body covered in goo. He grabbed a clean rag and wiped the baby’s face and then briskly began rubbing the little body before ever noticing that he was holding a daughter.
Oceans was holding out her hands and he passed the baby over. Immediately she placed her mouth over the infant’s nose and gently sucked out the mucus and repeated it over the baby’s mouth and soon there was a loud cry.
Marshall laughed. She was crying! Oceans continued cleaning her while he finished by tying off and cutting the umbilical cord. Then he stayed between Oceans legs until he had retrieved the after birth.
Oceans counted her daughter’s little digits and traced her sweet little nose and mouth. She was perfect. By the time the sun was completely set, Oceans was sound asleep with the baby at her breast. Marshall had finished cleaning to ensure that no predators would enter the camp, attracted by the smell of blood. He lifted the little baby, swaddled in the rags of one of Oceans’ old dresses and a diaper made of animal skins.
She made a disgruntled mewling sound when her mother’s nipple slipped from her lips before promptly falling back asleep. Poor Oceans was so tired that she didn’t budge. He covered her with her afghan and then carried the baby into the hut.
Marshall held her in his arms for a few moments, just staring into her face. How could one little person look so much like two different people? It was amazing. This baby was him and Oceans.
Skye.
There was no name more appropriate for his little miracle child. “Goodnight, Little Skye.” He placed a light kiss on the top of her dark curls. “Daddy loves you.”
~The last day~
While Oceans tended to the dinner that was roasting in a pit, Marshall was in the small hut with Jim and the pilot. They were looking around curiously. The wheels in Jim’s brain began to spin as he took in how surprisingly homey everything was. There were two hammocks that looked very inviting to him right now. Marshall was fingering a crib that hung from the beams of the solid looking roof. The crib was an ingenious woven basket stuffed with some type of animal skin. There were several other things in the hut that made it comfortable. There were pottery jugs, and platforms containing bowls of dried herbs, spices, salt, but the thing that caught his attention more than anything else was a coconut shell that had beautiful tropical flowers flowing from it.
This would be a resort! And not just any resort, but one that would allow people to recreate the experience of being stranded on a deserted island! He loved the hut, the beach, even the multi-racial couple. It sent an awesome message to the world—come enjoy the beauty of life away from civilization; fall in love, frolic on the beach, enjoy passionate nights beneath the moon! He would make millions!
Everyone would love this couple; rescued after a year and a half and a baby born on the island! He felt almost giddy with the idea of how much he could gain by being the one to rescue them! A book! A movie deal...
“What’s your name, son?” He asked.
“Marshall. Marshall Cohen and Oceans is my wife. Skye is our baby.” His brow was knit in something like confusion. His eyes darted around the small space taking stock of all of their belongings; trying to decide what needed to be taken, what could be left. It was almost impossible for him to think in those terms. Every one of their possessions was precious and necessary for either their survival or comfort. To turn their backs on them just seemed wrong.
The pilot’s radio suddenly emitted a staticky sound and Marshall’s eyes locked onto the device as the pilot talked into it. His eyes were so wide that he could have been looking at a space ship.
The pilot smiled. “The authorities have landed, Mr. Cohen. You and your family won’t be on this island much longer.”
Instead of the feeling of relief that he had long thought he’d experience, Marshall just felt scared.
***
Oceans spread an animal skin on the mat and then placed the baby d
own while she quickly slipped on a shirt that obviously belonged to her husband. Once she was no longer half nude she diapered the baby with a small piece of animal skin. Madge watched in admiration at how efficiently she did this. She had never seen a baby so beautiful with her café au lait complexion and big dark curls as dark as her mother’s and eyes as hazel as her father’s. Never before had Madge wanted to be a mother, but when she looked at the chubby, happy baby that cooed and played with her toes Madge felt an ache in her heart.
“She’s beautiful. How old is she?”
“Thank you.” Oceans hefted her up to her hip and Skye blinked at the stranger in her midst. “She’s nearly two months. Would you like to hold her?”
Madge’s eyes brightened. “May I?”
Oceans eyed the woman, sensing her kindness and then she placed Skye into her arms. She watched her daughter contemplate whether or not she wanted to be held by the new woman before her glittering diamond earrings caught her attention.
Oceans turned to the pit that was roasting the pork and then added more cassava. She was calculating how much more food to make in order to feed everyone. There would probably even be a few fish in the trap. Wonderful.
Madge frowned slightly as she watched Oceans go about her task. Did she not understand that she was rescued?
***
Things happened very fast for Oceans and Marshall. The United States Coast guard, the JCF Marine Division of Jamaica, as well as the MPI all converged on the Island and it was more alive than it had ever been before!
There were a lot of questions, pressure to move quickly, too much noise that overwhelmed the couple. The sights and colors were too vivid, they talked and moved too fast and they were tracking through their home!
There was also pork that Oceans' had tediously preserved, roasting in a pit. If the officials had understood how much effort it had taken to hunt, kill, skin, preserve and then cook the pig, perhaps they would not have been in such a rush to usher the two off the island.
"We need to eat." Marshall finally said after he'd repeated the answers to the same questions for the third time. Oceans gave him a relieved look. Her eyes kept moving back to Madge because she was familiar, but also because Oceans was remembering the smell of perfume, and the way lipstick looked on lips that weren't cracked and dried by sun and dehydration.
There was an awkward silence before one of the medics spoke. "You won't need to eat here on this island ever again. We have food and water on the plane, Ma'ame, and then we're going to take you to a real hospital."
Marshall ignored him as he went through the process of un-burying their meal. Oceans retrieved fresh banana leaves to be placed on the nicer of her clay plates. Madge continued to hold Skye while everyone just stood there watching the couple move about in their familiar routine.
After their meal, which smelled so good that everyone had to have a taste, they finally got the small family loaded into the plane. Oceans had begun packing her suitcase but Marshall placed his hand over hers. She gave him a searching look and he just shook his head no.
"We don't need this anymore."
Her heart was pounding in her chest. It ached and she didn't know why. She looked at the crib that their child had slept. And then she nodded. She picked up her afghan, clutching it in her hands and left their hut. Marshall took one last look around before following Oceans. Suddenly he stopped and cut down the crib. He clutched it possessively and when Oceans saw it in his hands she let out a relieved breath. He gave her a shaky smile.
“Let’s…get out of here.”
Marshall and Oceans were so overwhelmed that they didn't know where their plane touched down, only that after a short time, they were transported to another plane and against all recommendation to be flown immediately to a local hospital, the couple requested to go straight to the United States. A doctor was brought on board to monitor the family and it felt so strange to her to be pampered. Everything seemed to be greatly amplified. The bottled water was too cold, the seats too soft, the people too loud, and the breath mints were too sweet.
They had finally stopped asking questions and Marshall, who had dreamed of this moment, felt more nervous than excited. He was happy, there was no doubt of that; but he was scared. Someone handed him a telephone and he looked at them curiously.
"It's your mother and father." His breath gushed from him and he stared at the oversized phone before accepting it with trembling hands.
"H-hello?"
"Marshall?!"
"Mom?" And then he began sobbing.
~Epilogue~
Marshall poked his head into the casino, spotting his wife sitting perched on a stool feeding coins into the slot machine.
"How did I know you'd still be here?" Oceans jumped and looked at her wrist watch in guilt.
"Oh my god, I didn't realize how late it was!"
He peered at her cupful of coins in amusement. "Are you betting the nickel slots?"
She collected her bounty. "Yes I am! And I won two hundred and twenty-five dollars, too!"
Marshall chuckled. He was still wearing his ski pants and a black turtleneck. His ski goggles rested on the top of his head. "You are probably the only New York Times best selling author that will sit in front of slot machine feeding in nickels."
"Whatever." She responded. But she pinched his butt as they walked out because it just looked too sexy to resist. Of course all eyes were on the couple. It wasn't because they were the 'survivors', but because they stood out. Marshall was tall, chiseled with cropped short hair that had somehow stayed blond. Even his tan had never completely faded.
Oceans’ curls were coiffed and tamed, yet still seemed wild. Her skin was dark brown, and her body was more athletic than rounded. She wore ski boots though she preferred to leave the skiing to her husband while she played the slot machines. Her black jeans hugged her body in a sexy way and she too wore a black turtle neck. Once they reached the elevator, Marshall leaned in and kissed his wife, palming her full bottom before they reached the penthouse. They pulled away from each other before the doors opened into the spacious living room.
Several sets of eyes turned to them.
"I thought you two would miss it!" Marshall's mother said. She was holding a toddler who strained to be put down upon seeing her parents.
Marshall's father turned on the television. "Well we have a solid five minutes."
The couple was oddly unaffected by things that would make others leap for joy. They took their fame in stride. Everyone was still talking about ‘the survivors’, they wanted to go to the island, they wanted to watch them on a reality TV, public figures wanted their endorsements and movie stars wanted to party with them. They understood the interest but they also understood what made life wonderful—and it wasn’t any of that.
Marshall dropped to his knees and waited for his daughter to reach him. At just over a year old, little Skye Cohen scampered around with the new freedom of learning to walk. She spoke in rapid animation to her Daddy with him recognizing only one or two words. He carried her into the large living room.
"Thanks for watching the baby, Mom and Dad." Oceans said. It was a gift to know and to be totally accepted by Marshall's parents. She treasured them as if they were her very own parents.
Marshall's mother came over and placed her hands gently on Ocean's face. "My granddaughter is no chore at all. I wish you two would move back to New York. It's so cold here in Colorado!"
Marshall and Oceans exchanged looks. "It can't be cold enough." He murmured. His mother blushed. Once Marshall had expressed his love for skiing on a popular talk show, they were given lifetime use of the penthouse at an exclusive resort. Besides the month they spent here, home was a mountainside cabin overlooking the Rocky Mountains.
"Hurry! Grab a seat, its starting!" Marshall's father yelled. Everyone scurried for a seat on the plush sectional even though they’d already seen this episode of the popular talk show, as well as many other talk shows that they had appeared on.
The familiar theme song began and Oceans snuggled into her husband's arms while their daughter squirmed, moving from one parent to the other until she was released to the carpeted floor where she made a quick escape to several toys. Marshall's father picked up the remote and turned up the surround sound until it was like they all were in the studio again.
