Fatal 5

by Karin Kaufman

  And then little sobs came hicupping out, making her forget everything she wanted to say. She’d thought about it for so long, needed so much to tell him. But all she could do was cry.

  Jake stirred. He opened his eyes and inched a finger to her lips. “Hush,” he whispered. “I’m going to live.”

  * * *

  Jake could count his ribs protruding like row after row of sand dunes in the fleshless skin of his chest. How many days had he gone without eating? He groaned when he heard that Betty had thrown out the venison stew, claiming it was too old to eat. He’d hardly gotten a bite of it. That afternoon, he insisted Eve help him to the table for their next meal. Enough of lying in bed—it was time to celebrate his resurrection from the dead!

  The pressure on his buttock wounds as he settled his weight into the chair called for jaw-clamping grit. If he didn’t move, he might make it through the meal. The women sat around him with smiles so huge he swore their happiness lit up the cave. All three of them were gaunt in the face, deep hollows under their eyes. For the first time, it hit him how much they had suffered alongside him the last two weeks. His gut tightened all the way up to his throat, making it hard to swallow. The island had tied the four of them together in a way that superseded even the close camaraderie with his battle buddies in Nam. Only his family topped the growing affection he felt for his three fellow survivors.

  “Clear up a mystery for us, Jake.” Betty rubbed and patted his left hand as if she were the mother of the Prodigal Son returned home. “What were the thumbs-up about? Especially when you smiled and pointed up?”

  “Ah, that!” Jake speared a bite of pineapple and held it up to his mouth. “More field-emergency knowledge from Nam. I knew that on the tenth day, my body would peak in producing its own antibodies. I figured if I could last until then, I might live.” He waggled his eyebrows at Crystal. “And, praise God, it looks as if I will.”

  She didn’t laugh at his merriment. A shadow flitted across her brow at the mention of God. Then, as if to please him with an appropriate response, she tipped up the corners of her mouth.

  His gaiety ratcheted down a notch. If anyone would be traumatized by his death, it would be Crystal. She had made him, not merely a hero to idolize, but her father to treasure and love. Those were big shoes to fill. He winked and gave her his best grin. With all his heart he wanted to keep in contact with her after they got off the island, but would telephone calls and visits be enough?

  If Ginny were alive, he’d be tempted to see if he could adopt Crystal. But Ginny wasn’t alive. He gulped back the bitter taste of sorrow. Well, thank God that—at least for Crystal’s sake—he hadn’t died.

  “Mind if I check your stitches?” Without waiting for an answer, Eve stood and leaned over his chair. The warmth of her breath tickled his skin. “They look good.” A fingertip poked one of the puncture wounds on his right shoulder. “That’s a scar. Does it hurt?”

  “No.”

  “How about here?” The fingertip slipped to the tender flesh bordering the scar.

  “Ouch! Yes.”

  “And here?” The finger lifted and pressed down a tad farther away.

  “No.” Must be his uninjured flesh, although every inch of his body had hurt like the dickens the first several days after she’d sewn him up.

  “Jake!” Her voice was tense. “The maggots—I can’t find them!” Her fingertips flitted over his stitches like sharks in a feeding frenzy.

  “Stop!” He twisted away from her instruments of torture. The movement pinched his buttock wounds against the bamboo slats of the seat. He leaped from his chair and spun away to shield his back from the maniacal fingers. “Get away! The maggots are gone.”

  Eve stepped back, her eyes wide. “Oh, Jake, not deeper into your—”

  “No! No, they left my body.” Her concern was gratifying, and she’d been a trooper with all the help during his illness, but doggone the woman, she had a way of literally getting under his skin! He drew in a deep breath to calm down. “They crawled out to pupate.”

  “You felt them leave?” Betty’s mouth turned down in disgust.

  He laughed. She groused when they entered his wounds, groused when they left. “They wiggled their way out a couple days ago. I suspect you can find their cocoons around my bed.”

  Betty snorted. “I’ve got better ways to spend my time, thank you.”

  Eve faced him with folded arms. “Those stitches should be taken out. It won’t be fun. All we have are knives, no scissors.”

  Weariness descended like a cement block on his brain. He eased back into his chair. Perhaps he wasn’t quite up to being resurrected after all. “Let’s think about that for tomorrow. One last bite of fruit, and I’m ready for bed.”

  “Wait.” Crystal rose from her chair to stand before him, eyes fixed on the floor, mouth tight above a trembling chin. “I have something to tell you.”

  * * *

  Crystal couldn’t bear to look at Jake. Her insides shook at what she was about to do. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her.

  She had bound her fate to Jake’s. If he lived, God was not lost to her. But if he didn’t live, she would have to bear her guilt forever. Not even Aunt Betty and Eve’s forgiveness would be sufficient. Only Jake’s would do. He was the one who had suffered because of her.

  She forced out two words. Forced them from the rat-infested dungeon in her heart. Forced them to her tongue. Opened her mouth, pushed them out. “I lied.”

  Shame stripped her into scorching nakedness. Her knees quaked so that she could hardly stand. “I lied to Aunt Betty and Eve. I did it on purpose.”

  Silence echoed against the cave walls. The acrid smell of wood ashes, the sweet scent of pineapple, the sour odor of Jake’s unwashed body crowded her nostrils. Relief and dread prickled the back of her throat so that she had to swallow hard. Her insides tingled.

  Jake reached over and took her hands into his. They were warm against the ice of her skin. She dared to sneak a glance at him. His face was grave, but his eyes were kind. They encouraged her to tell him more. “I told them I’d fetch the water and not go near you. But all along, that was my plan.”

  “You lied because you wanted to see me?”

  She hung her head, nudged her chin up and down once.

  “And you haven’t apologized to them?”

  Her chest knotted. He didn’t get it. Her betrayal was against him, not them. The air in her lungs was barely enough to squeak out the terrible truth. “My lie almost killed you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “How’s that?”

  “You left the cave to fetch water because of me.”

  “Going outside to get water was my choice, Pumpkin. You’re not to blame for my decision. Do you understand that?”

  “No.” Reluctantly, she put the last piece into the puzzle so he could see the whole, ugly picture. “I touched your back and you fell off your bed. After that you chose to get the water.”

  “I see.” His thumbs rubbed the backs of her hands in gentle circles. “Let me ask you a question. I took Ginny on the Gateway cruise. Does that mean I killed her?”

  Crystal gasped in horror. “No! Captain Emilio killed her.”

  Jake nodded. “And it was a clouded leopard, not you, that almost killed me.”

  The logic filtered slowly into her brain. Captain Emilio set off the blasts—if he hadn’t, Ginny and all the others would still be alive. The leopard attacked Jake—if it hadn’t, Jake would have no injuries to die from. Air leaped into her lungs in an explosion of joy.

  “Then I haven’t lost God either!”

  Jake’s eyebrows jumped again. “Why would you think you had?”

  “Because . . . I wouldn’t deserve Him. Not if I’d killed you.”

  “Crystal, all of us have reasons why we don’t deserve God. Bad things we might do one time, bad things we do over and over again.”

  Crystal frowned. Her brain felt like Jake had taken an eggbeater to it. “So none of us can h
ave God?”

  “Yes, we can. We become God’s beloved when we believe in Jesus. I gave Ginny a pearl necklace I bought especially for her on our wedding day, and it was always hers after that. In the same way, Jesus gives His forgiveness—that He paid for on the cross—to His beloved, and it’s always theirs after that. That’s how we can have God.”

  “Even when we’re bad?”

  His mouth pulled down at the corners, and his eyes looked so sad it made her breath jerk. “I hated being bad to Ginny because I loved her and wanted to please her. I always apologized and tried never to do it again. It’s the same with God. We hate being bad to Him.”

  She got it. The love needed to go both ways—and why wouldn’t she love God if He loved her that much? Something light, something full and fizzy and crazy with happiness, filled her insides. She squeezed Jake’s hands so tight her bones crunched. “Lying is bad. I don’t ever want to do it again.”

  “Tell Him that, Pumpkin.”

  She took a big breath, withdrew her hands from Jake’s to weave her fingers together, and closed her eyes. “Dear Jesus, I believe in You, and I want to be forgiven forever. I’m really, really sorry I lied, and I don’t want to ever do it again. I want to love You as much as You love me.” She paused. “And thank You that Jake didn’t die. Amen.”

  She opened her eyes and grinned shyly at Jake. Light from the cave windows reflected on tears brimming in his eyes. He drew her to him in a tight hug, and she hugged him back, certain the dizzying happiness inside her was oozing into his insides too. She had God and she had Jake. Both!

  “Don’t forget Aunt Betty and Eve,” he whispered.

  The guilt, although nowhere near as heavy as what she’d taken to God, pinched out stomach acid. She turned to face her aunt first. “I’m sorry I lied. Can you forgive me too?”

  Aunt Betty’s mouth curved downward. “I’m disappointed, child, but I forgive you. Come give me a hug too.”

  She went hesitantly into Aunt Betty’s arms, sorry deep down now that she saw how hurt her aunt was. Lying was a hateful thing to do to people, as well as to God. “I’m sorry,” she said against her aunt’s shoulder. “I won’t ever do it again.”

  Aunt Betty patted Crystal’s back and released her. “I’ll be looking for that.”

  New sorrow bit her throat. In other words, she’d have to prove herself. She had lost something precious, something that would not be recovered easily. She swallowed back tears, feeling more and more the enormity of what her lie had done.

  It was going to be even worse with Eve, the real target of her lie. Eve—her Losers Club buddy, her friend who didn’t look on her as just a dumb kid, her heroine who’d saved her and Aunty instead of looking out for herself, who’d been brave enough to sew up Jake and save him too. Over and over, Eve had shown love to her, and what had she done in return?

  A sob lurched from her lungs. Please, God, she couldn’t lose Eve! She ached to throw herself into Eve’s arms and cry and cry and beg forgiveness. “Eve?” Her voice cracked. She turned a full circle, probing the cave’s darkness. “Where’s Eve?”

  “She hasn’t come back?” Aunt Betty twisted in her chair to glance over each shoulder, as if already needing proof that Crystal spoke the truth. “She sped out of here back when you said Captain Emilio killed Ginny.”

  Heart thumping, Crystal scrambled outside. High overhead, the sun beat down on an empty beach and swashing whitecaps beyond the cove. The grass in the trench sagged, releasing the sharp scent of baked vegetation. No one but her and the Lone Soldier were there. “Eve,” she shouted. “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry!”

  * * *

  Halfway up the slope to the Japanese garden, Eve hesitated at Crystal’s plea. Poor child. It was obvious she was upset, that she needed the assurance of Eve’s love and the comfort of her forgiveness. But not yet. Not when she had her own emotional bomb to recover from.

  At the garden, she paused to admire the progress they’d made in reclaiming its beauty. Miniature shrubs and bushes, dainty constructs of rocks formed into stepping-stones and bridges, and pools of water flowing from diminutive waterfalls were restored to view. With the grass gone, the garden’s only enemy now was the noonday sun, unobstructed by the boulders on the east and west that hindered its morning and evening rays.

  The heat of the stone pathway soaked into her moccasins as she followed its meandering trail through patches of flowers. A dizzying aroma of perfume clung to the air. At the spot where she had discovered the Sampaguitas, she sat down and inhaled a breath that sucked every molecule of oxygen off the island and spun her into giddiness.

  Giddiness because she had been absolved of murder.

  Of any part of murder.

  Jake and Crystal had placed the guilt squarely on Captain Emilio’s shoulders. All those passengers on the Gateway, dear Ginny—Captain Emilio was the murderer, not she, not even indirectly. Not even for boarding the Gateway.

  All this time she had believed she was the linchpin, but she wasn’t. It was Captain Emilio who was the key player. He had chosen to target not just her, but all the passengers. She didn’t understand his choice, but clearly the blame was on him and his decision. He, and he alone, bore the guilt.

  She released the air from her lungs with a loud laugh. Shouted it out. Her rump was flat on the ground, but, oh, was her soul ever soaring! Spinning and dancing and whirling like a gull riding an eddy high above the earth.

  She was free! Free from her self-imposed, misplaced guilt for Ginny’s death! For the deaths of all the Gateway passengers.

  Her euphoria segued into a long sigh. Free now, too, to look at those tumultuous emotions battering her heart for attention. Emotions about Jake she didn’t want to look at.

  Because once she freed those feelings, once she granted them their own life, she would have to kill them.

  The feelings weren’t hard to figure out. With her misplaced guilt relocated to Captain Emilio, they stood on the ramparts of her heart and jumped and waved and hollered. Insisted on recognition. Demanded action.

  She closed her eyes and clamped her jaw against the emotions, but there was no denying them.

  She, who had never loved a man, who had scoffed at the idea of romantic love bearing any authenticity—she was in love.

  In love with Jake Chalmers.

  Who was in love with his wife.

  Her stomach tightened in a spasm. She wrapped her arms across her chest in a tight squeeze. It was the only hug she was going to get. The only comfort. No one would ever know about these feelings. What was never meant to be would be buried on this island. Buried with a platoon of Japanese soldiers. She mustn’t be like the Lone Soldier, watching and waiting for what would never come.

  She rose to her feet and gazed at the Sampaguita flowerbed. Waited for her heartbeat to level out. Her breathing to calm. The sun was hot on her head. Sweat beaded her skin. She lifted her chin and drew in air through her nostrils. “I haven’t forgotten you, Mari. It’s two Romeros now. Danny for you, Captain Emilio for me.”

  Old dreams still awaited her. She closed the coffin lid on what could only be an empty hope and slipped it into the soil with the Sampaguitas.

  To stop her lips from quivering, she pinched them between her teeth and went to find Crystal.

  Chapter 45

  Jake poured the last of the water over his head. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to trek up to the waterfall pool and bathe like a man. None of this ridiculous sponging off with rags out of a pail of water in the trench. He pulled on the briefs and shorts Eve had washed and mended and laid out to dry before she and Crystal left on their morning fruit hunt. Today for sure he’d have to step up to the plate and begin a recovery routine.

  “You decent out there?” From inside the cave, the tap of Betty’s cane grew louder.

  “Not if I don’t get my belt. I seem to have lost a little weight these past two weeks.” He pulled the waistline of his shorts away from his sto
mach. He could fit two of him in there.

  Betty crawled outside with her cane in one hand, his belt in the other, and handed it to him. Instead of standing, she scooted to the side to rest her back and head against the cliff and stretch her legs in front of her. “My favorite time of the day. Sun high enough to warm, but not to burn.” She patted the trampled grass next to her. “Come sit. I want to tell you something.”

  He glanced down the trench. So much for starting an exercise routine. He’d never make it down and back, anyway. How could a mere spit bath be so exhausting?

  He stepped past her to sink into a cautious sitting position against the cliff. His incisions were still sore from Eve removing the stitches.

  Betty turned her head to face him. “I’ve been wanting for several days now to thank you for how you handled Crystal and her lie. You’re a wise man, Jake. You’ve been good for Crystal. She’s blossomed on this island in a way I’d hoped only in my dreams to see.”

  Wise? Maybe three days ago when he’d been on a high about escaping death. He hunched forward, not wanting to meet her eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “What was it like for you when Frank died?”

  She paused, inhaling deeply, as if steeling herself to open a cobwebbed vault. “Devastating. Frank cheated on me several times in our marriage. I thought I would be glad when he died, that at last I would be free of the shame and hurt.”

  Her voice quivered. “But the shame and hurt didn’t go away. Instead, I discovered I’d stuck with Frank because I believed his affairs were my punishment—punishment for deserting God so I could marry Frank, knowing he wasn’t a believer. Then, when he died, I had no one. Not him, not God. Only worse pain, worse loneliness. Each day was a black hole I had to get through by myself.”

  Jake squirmed. He shouldn’t have asked her the question, shouldn’t have provoked this painful confession. He sat back and slipped his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”