Chapter Fourteen

Musir was watching the horizon at sunset. I joined him, coming up by his side. His spirits seemed eased, as though offering a slice of his past helped air it. Maybe my continued acceptance of him was reassurance that he truly wasn’t some kind of monster.

“I have been thinking,” he said in greeting. “Perhaps we should move camp. We don’t have the boat anymore, so no real shelter. Neither of us are good ocean fishers. Moving two people is easier than moving four.”

“If Blue—” I choked on his name, but quickly regained composure “—finds help, he’s going to lead people back here. I’m not disagreeing. I’m anxious to do something more than just sit and wait. I just don’t want to miss rescue if people know to look for us here.”

Musir pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That is a good point. Perhaps we can re-arrange the SOS rocks to make an arrow in the direction we are moving. They will know we are alive and where we have gone.”

“That would do the trick. Then yes, let’s move tomorrow morning so we can have the full day to travel and set up camp again.”

* * * *

The next morning I was up as early as Musir. I was more anxious to move and do something different than I realized. It didn’t take long to gather and take stock of our few assets. Musir tied off the ends of his shirt I slept on. We used it as a bag and packed our water bottles, ropes, netting from my dress, the tarp, and what fruit and nuts we had with us. I wrapped my jacket around my waist. We both stared at Kent Carson’s robe. It sat untouched in a clump on the sand.

“I sort of hate even looking at it,” I said.

“We could throw it in the fire.”

I picked it up and touched the long rope that used to tie around Kent Carson’s wide waist. I felt the rich fabric. “Let’s keep it. Let’s forget it touched him. It would be unwise to dispose of any rope or fabric.”

I stuffed it in the bag. Musir slung it over his shoulder and picked up the spears. We decided to head toward the water first.

“More important than anything is that we can’t lose track of where the water is,” he said. “No matter where we go, we need to be able to reach water when we need it.”

“Then let’s head to the pool first, fill the water bottles, and get cleaned up. We can figure out either what is feeding the pool and follow that upstream or where the overflow is going and follow it downstream.”

“Yes. If this island houses any campgrounds or places for visitors, they will be near water as well.”

“Animals will be too. They’ll stick close to the fresh water. We’ll potentially have meat―small game, hopefully.”

“That’s right.” Musir laughed. “You are the snake-hunter after all.”

* * * *

We were so familiar with the location of the pool that the walk there was second nature. The conversation was light compared to what it was recently, possibly because we were both just enjoying the change of scenery. The path we wore down during the past month seemed fresh and new. We regularly pointed out plants we didn’t notice before.

We filled up the water bottles in the river that fed into the short waterfall. Technically we were filling up water bottles. In actuality, all we were doing was stalling.

Questions loomed. Should we swim together knowing the water would make our clothes clingy and somewhat transparent? Should we maintain the same sterile distance as before, despite all that happened and how close it brought us?

Musir kicked some pebbles from the edge of the cliff wall down into the pool below.

“I am always surprised by how deep this is.”

“Yeah,” I said. “The first time I was here we climbed down a rope. These last few weeks we’ve all felt at ease to jump.”

I left out that the first time I was there it was with Blue, but of course he knew.

“I jump feet first, but I never feel sure enough to…what is this kind of jump called?” He held his arms over his head with fingertips together, his strong biceps against his ears.

“Dive? I’m not sure enough about the depth to dive.”

He smiled. We stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the call about the level of modesty we would adhere to. I finally moved to the edge and slipped off my shoes, letting my toes wiggle in the space before the fall.

“Well, come on,” I said cheerfully to cover my shyness. I leaped into the water before he could see me start to blush.

The water was as refreshing as always. It washed away the grime from my skin. I came up a cleansed woman. My sleeveless shirt and my skirt floated effortlessly around my body. Musir suddenly splashed down next to me and kicked to the surface. He was all smiles.

“It feels so good.”

“It sure does!” I laughed and splashed at him.

He splashed back. I escaped with a few long strokes that brought me nearly the length of the swimming hole. He followed. I was a superior swimmer and easily escaped him again and again. By the time he caught up with me, the truth was that I let him.

He reached out and grasped my foot. I squealed as he pulled himself closer. I made my way to the sheer wall. Musir wrapped one arm around my waist and grabbed a ragged rock next to my head to keep us from sinking. Our legs brushed as we kicked slowly. The water and his one strong arm holding the wall supported our bodies. He looked intently at me. My mind flashed to when I was in a similar position nearly a month ago with Blue. He flattered me, sweet-talked, and tried to seduce me. Musir simply looked at me. I was melting inside. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted but knew I desired him.

I thought of Robert Browning’s poem Now. Several lines danced in my head:

Thought and feeling and soul and sense

Merged in a moment which gives me at last

You around me for once, you beneath me, above me…

How long such suspension may linger?

If Blue was there and I quoted a line from the poem, he’d know the piece. We could have volleyed back and forth with a recitation. However, if Blue were here, I would not be thinking and feeling how I did now.

All I knew of love was from the writers and poets I loved who wrote so eloquently of passion. Now words failed me. I had nothing to say. I was falling in love with a man in a moment when he said nothing.

He leaned in without words and connected his lips with mine. Cool water droplets fell from the tips of his black hair, but all I could feel was warmth. His lips were hot and thick on mine. His chest exuded heat. He put his arm around my waist as he brushed his legs against mine.

When he pulled away finally, it was only with his lips. He kept his face and body close to mine.

He muttered a guttural Arabic phrase with my name in the middle of it and then said, “Leah,” before nuzzling into my neck. I ran my fingers through his glossy hair, then pulled his face up to mine and smiled.

He smiled back then kissed me once more and let go. Cold water slipped in to the space so recently filled by him.

* * * *

We were still silent when we finally dragged ourselves out of the pool. He held my hand to help me up and then didn’t let go. We just stood looking up and down the river, unsure what would come next but pleased to be in the moment together.

“I wish we could just stay here a while,” I said.

“Yes, me too. Let us do that. We will need to sleep somewhere so why not here?”

I shrugged. “Well, maybe…but…the animals, snakes…We won’t have the benefit of a clearing here.”

“Let us pitch a tent. We can have a fire at the entrance to keep animals from examining us while we sleep.”

I reached down and grabbed the pack-bag. “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t Hermione Granger’s bag.”

I laughed. Musir looked at me with confusion on his face.

“The bag with the extension charm.”

He still looked blank.

“From Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows?”

Musir shrugged. “I know of Harry Potter―books and movies?”

“A whole portion of my childhood you can never understand the references to.” I laughed. “I may have to lend you my copies when we’re rescued. The adventure may not be quite as appealing after going through one of our own. Maybe I’ll prefer only to read books about people staying safely indoors, eating good food, and sleeping on nice beds. What I meant to say was that we don’t have a tent handy in this little bag.”

“Get the tarp,” he said as he used considerable force to shove the sharp end of two spears into the ground a couple of yards apart. He leaned them together so they crisscrossed at the top. “Since we will be here only one night, there is no reason to make a very elaborate shelter. This will do. Hand me the robe, please.”

I handed it over. He pulled off the rope belt and used it to tie the spears together. Musir made an X with a very small top V and a large upside-down V at the bottom. He leaned the third spear at an angle with one end on the group and the other supported by the top X.

I saw now what he was going for. I threw the tarp over the angled spear like tossing a comforter over my bed. He stripped a palm frond to tie the top in place on the spear. He moved rocks on either side to hold the tarp open. We had ourselves a little tarp lean-to. I strung my sheer dress fabric—our fishing net—across a narrow part of the river in hope of catching some fish.

He brushed his hands against his already-dry shirt, pleased with the result. “We’ll make a fire at the opening and be able to sleep safe.”

“We’ll bring it with us tomorrow. That’s very smart.”

I couldn’t help but look forward to sleeping curled up next to him in such close quarters.

* * * *

I awoke the next morning with his arm around my waist and the handsome fellow still sleeping. It must have been the first time he slept longer than me. Maybe I was something of a comfort. Having another body so close gave a sense of peace, even with the thrill of skin against skin.

He stirred. I was sorry to think I may have awakened him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I said.

He smiled sheepishly when he realized he was holding me so intimately. “I am sorry for being so close.”

“No, it was nice. People are made to be close to each other. Yeah, it was nice.”

“Maybe we should stay here forever.”

“Here by the pool, or in this tent?”

“Both?” He laughed. It was an appealing idea for sure, but he was obviously just being light about it. He pulled himself from the tent and stretched.

“Shall we head upstream or down?” he asked. He was getting down to business when what I wanted was to pull him back down with me and never let go.

I followed him out of the tent. I looked upriver and remembered my net. Checking it without much hope, I was pleased to find I caught four freshwater fish.

“Hey! The lazy-woman’s tactic works. We’re having meat this morning.”

We discussed the pros and cons of upstream versus downstream as we cooked over the fire but neither stood out as the clear choice. In the end, we concluded that sometimes there was no right or wrong decision, just decisions. We were following a river, that’s all, hoping we’d find local folks or visitors. We decided to go downstream. It wasn’t for any reason except that eventually we’d end up at the beach. We could leave a new arrow and head back upstream when the spirit moved us to do so.

Packing up the tent was quick and easy. I was already looking forward to tonight and to the work of putting up our little temporary home. I was especially looking forward to curling up close with this warm and cozy guy.

* * * *

This went on for days. I didn’t know if Musir kept his calendar. I was too at ease living day-to-day. For once I wasn’t thinking about the minutiae of life; what major to choose in college, what I’d have for lunch, when a library book was due, what algebra questions out of the textbook I was supposed to do for homework, how to conjugate être in French, or if my parents were proud or ashamed of me. I was just living each day. There was such joy in it.

We had plenty of fish in the net in the mornings and could estimate now how much we’d eat and carry with us that day. We’d let the rest go, joking that eventually the word would spread along the river to avoid a shimmery fabric at night. The trees were fruitful around the river, so we had sweet produce too. We had as much fresh water as we could drink. We caught small game on three occasions. Musir thankfully did the dirty work of skinning and cooking them. I felt sad for the little creatures. Knowing we used every part of them, from the meat to the furs—we even used some of the bones as little tent pegs and the rest we kept just in case—made me feel better about it.

We saw more beautiful landscape every day than I saw in my seventeen years in a well-manicured neighborhood.

I was just living, surviving, and walking along a river hand-in-hand with a gorgeous guy. He sometimes stopped without warning to pull me close and kiss me passionately, as though he couldn’t stand being even a foot away from me for any longer.

Sure, we’d reach the beach eventually, or some small village or rich person’s little private island getaway. Eventually we’d get rescued. That was still the goal. However, for the moment, things were all right as we moved toward that eventuality.

* * * *

One morning we stuck around a while in a particularly peaceful clearing. The tent was on some soft, mossy grass. We decided to stick around another night. Our tent stayed in one place for more than a day for the first time.

We didn’t feel like moving the next morning either, or the next. We finally agreed to stay in this little paradise until we felt like moving down river again. It wasn’t like we had anyone waiting on us or any schedule to keep.

Time passed. It folded in on itself the way it did before, until one afternoon I realized we hadn’t even brought up the usual breakfast conversation: “Should we pack up and keep moving tonight, or hang around here and move tomorrow?”

Musir was sitting by the fire. I saw the calendar stones. They were now tied up in a rabbit skin.

“Hey, you’ve still got those stones?”

“Yes, time sure passes quickly sometimes, doesn’t it? Do you realize we have been in this spot for over a week now?”

“That can’t be right. How can you tell?”

He pulled out eight stones. They were a little smoother than the ones we found before but not as sandy white as the ones from the beach.

“These are from over by the river, right there. We’ve been here eight days.”

“I’m not sure why that worries me, but it does,” I said.

“I feel the same,” he said with a weak smile. “Is it a problem if we’re content here, if we’re happy? Shouldn’t we want to keep going, to go down the river, up the river, back, and maybe circle the whole island until we’re rescued?”

“We don’t know if rescue is coming.”

“Yes, and we are content here.”

“And happy?”

“Yes,” he said, “and happy too. I am happy with you.”

He held my hand. We both felt the weight of the decision we were making. Musir was the brave one, the one to give voice to the question in the air.

“Do you want to stay here for a while? I mean, make a stronger shelter, get comfortable…stay a while? Not forever, but we could wake up in the morning knowing this is where we will sleep in the coming night. It would be like on the beach before. We wouldn’t have to question where every day will lead us. We could make a little temporary home together.”

Home together. The very thought thrilled and frightened me. I wasn’t ready to give up on rescue, but I had to be realistic. We were here over a month with no rescue in sight. Our only hope was if Blue reached help and sent them back. Our arrows would direct them correctly. We could get comfortable and still be able to make it to the beach if we needed to. If one were extremely quiet, one might hear breaking waves. The beach might be only a day’s walk. If we got desperate for the shore, we could easily make it there.

“I do.”

Musir hopped up. He took my hands and helped me up, pulling me into an immediate embrace.

“This is very good. We can find the beach if we need to, but we can be at ease while we’re here. I have been enjoying these weeks, day by day, and find I am not desperate to escape the island as I was before. We will escape sometime, but—”

“We can look forward to the future while still appreciating the present.”

“Exactly.”

* * * *

Musir was literally “whistling while he worked.” He shimmied up a tree to snap off some sturdy branches. He brought them back down to lean against the tarp, allowing him to make the lean-to wider. They also held the tarp in place in case of a storm and added some structure and protection.

He took a break every so often. We worked side-by-side, weaving palm fronds back and forth to tie the branches to each other. We just enjoyed one another’s company. If we were going to be here a while, the situation was at this point as good as it could be. I couldn’t help wonder what might take place inside our little home as it came together.

“We can weave the whole thing eventually if we really want to,” he said.

Eventually, I thought, I will see all of you.

“Yes, that would make it sturdier.”

“I like the flooring you have been making.”

I like to think of all we could do on it in the coming years.

“Yes, it will be a comfy little mattress,” I said and blushed. Evidently all it took was love to drive my thoughts to the brink of distraction!

Musir climbed trees while I gathered soft underbrush and spread out thin, even layers inside the shelter. I’d put the robe on top once the base was sufficiently cushy. I washed the robe multiple times in the fresh river water. We’d have something akin to a mattress.

“Maybe we can add a door eventually.”

We can shut out the world and wrap our home around the two of us.

“Yes, so the UPS guy knows where to drop the packages of stuff I order.” I laughed.

“UPS?”

“The postal person. It’s just a joke.”

“What will you order?”

More and more time in your company.

“Books, lots of books. We’ll need to build bookshelves as well. You might be fond of me, but you have not yet experienced the book-hoarder side of your darling Leah.”

He laughed. All was light. “I adore all of you, my sweetheart.”

This time with him, I thought, is a golden time.

Then as the universe had done again and again, everything changed just when things were getting comfortable.

* * * *

Musir climbed back into the tree to get a few more branches to finish off the hut before the sun set. I was starting a fire, adding kindling and twigs to a pile nearby to throw on throughout the night.

“Come on down,” I called to him. “The hut is already wonderful. Any additional visions you have can be added tomorrow.”

“We are so close to being done,” he said from the tree. I could hear him snapping branches and tossing them down.

“Well, leave some branches to climb down,” I teased. “I realize you’ve never seen me play sports, but I can assure you I couldn’t catch you if you were slow-pitched my way, let alone falling from—”

As if on cue, I heard a snap of a thicker branch and Musir’s guttural cry of surprise. It was followed immediately by a sickening thud. I dropped the sticks I was holding and rushed to the tree.

“Musir,” I called as I hurried.

“I’m okay,” he spluttered as I came around the tree.

He did look okay at first glance. He fell on the pile of branches, so he didn’t hit his head. He grimaced as he tried to get up. I grabbed his hand and pulled.

He let go a string of Arabic in low, organic tones right from the gut. Then he said, “No, no, that hurts very much. Check the back of my arm. It hurts very much.” He continued in more Arabic that I guessed was a string of profanity.

I helped him sit up with great gentleness and saw the blood-soaked fabric on the back of his shirt.

I swallowed my initial response to the view. I kept my voice steady so not to scare him. “We’ll need to take this shirt off. Will it hurt too much to pull it over your head? I can rip it instead.”

“Yes, just rip it. I can’t move my arm well.”

As I ripped the fabric slowly, I prayed I wouldn’t find a bone sticking out of his skin. What I found was not much better.

A snapped branch that was sticking up in the pile was now impaled into Musir’s shoulder.

“Can you breath?” I asked, thinking of how close it must be to his lungs. I prayed the injury was shallow enough not to pierce a lung. “Breathe deeply.”

I didn’t hear any gurgling of blood in his breaths, so I figured it must not have pierced too deep or at that angle.

Musir was brave through the pain. “Just tell me what you see.”

“Um…okay. It isn’t pretty. One of the branches stabbed you when you fell on it. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Pull it out.”

“What?”

“Pull it out.” He gulped. “We cannot leave it in.”

“I guess we can’t. What if that makes it worse? What if you get splinters or an infection, or start bleeding more?”

“Splinters are better than a branch. An infection will happen regardless, if it is going to happen. I’m already bleeding. I cannot go along with a branch in me.”

“You sure are brave.”

“I’m not. I just want to get it over with. This hurts very much.”

I moved to pet his cheek then wiped away the spot of blood on his lip where he was biting it in response to the pain. Leaning in, I kissed him harder than I should have in his fragile state. It gave me the strength to do what I needed to do.

I led him to the river. We waded in to our waists. I’d need to clean this quickly and put a compression on it. The river was the coldest thing around. Cold was supposed to close wounds, or was one supposed to dress a wound with a dry dressing? I didn’t know. I planted one more kiss hard on his mouth and gave him a stick to bite.

“Try not to fall on this stick, okay?”

That made him laugh. He dropped the stick in the water. We both cracked up. We were uneasy and scared but we were together. It could be worse. I grabbed another branch.

“Okay, I’ll try not to make any jokes at your expense.”

I looked at the branch in his back and prayed it was not deep and jagged. I tugged with all I had in me. It must come out fast and must be over quickly. I’d lose my nerve if this drew out too long.

A throaty moan came from deep within me because of the effort. I pulled one last time. The branch dislodged. I fell back into the river. Musir tipped forward but caught himself before falling in. He howled in pain.

I looked at the branch in my hand. I chucked it onto the shore and directly into the fire, the cursed thing. We didn’t need animals sniffing around for blood.

Blood was pooling in the water around Musir. He dropped to his knees in the river. He was breathing heavily and looking pale and clammy.

“Okay, that’s done. That was the worst of it. Get up, come on, get up. Get on your feet. I’m going to stop the bleeding. Have you still got that stick? Okay, bite down.”

I dipped his torn shirt in the water and wondered again if this was better to clean the wound or if a dry compress would be better. It was too late now. I pressed it onto the wound. He cried out in pain.

“Almost done, almost done,” I cooed, breathing deeply through pursed lips and trying not to vomit. I pulled the shirt’s long sleeves around his chest at an angle and moved to the front of him to tie them tightly.

“Okay, okay, here we go. Now breathe,” I said to myself as much as to him.

He watched my eyes. I was his focal point.

“Let’s see how that does. Let’s see if that stops the bleeding. It isn’t terrible, actually.” I lied. I hoped my lie would become the truth as the blood clotted.

Musir chuckled and groaned. “The pain is. If it gets infected—”

“Why don’t we concentrate on one thing at a time? You don’t have a tree lodged in your shoulder anymore. That should count for something. The pain…yes…I wish we had the first-aid kit from the boat.”

“I need to sleep,” he muttered, looking as though he were minutes away from passing out regardless. “The blood…if it draws animals while we’re asleep…”

“The hut is pretty strong. It’s a good thing it isn’t just the tarp anymore. You did such a good job on it. I’ll keep the fire going and stay awake.”

He smiled at me as I helped him to the hut and settled him down on the new, soft bed of brush and cottony robe.

“You shouldn’t have to stay awake on my account.”

“Oh please.”

“You are very good to me.”

I wanted to tell him I loved him but thought it might taint the moment to have it associated with such suffering. He soon passed out. I wondered if I should have told him after all. Who knew if he’d ever wake up?

* * * *

My night was a sleepless one. I was concerned and terrified. Musir was in and out of consciousness. He moaned in pain, so even he didn’t rest. I climbed into the lean-to and petted his silky midnight hair, cooing and trying to soothe his dreams. Once he was settled, I went outside to tend the fire. This was absolutely a night we didn’t want the fire to burn out.

I settled down on the dirt between the hut and the fire after tossing on a few sticks and watching them ignite. I stared into the flames. My face was suddenly wet with tears as though I cried for all eternity. The sobs were silent—even in my fear I didn’t want to wake my darling. I tilled my sorrows and fears there in the firelight.

What were we going to do?

When all was finally as good as it could be, why did a random accident have to threaten it all?

My God, all the blood he lost! He was young and healthy. He’d just clot and not lose too much, wouldn’t he?

How would we keep the wound clean? Even if I managed to remove the branch without leaving pieces of bark—and there was no way to know if I managed that—all those microscopic wee-beasties were certain to go to work on the open wound.

He couldn’t survive this wound. After all we went through, it would end with a random tumble.

He can’t die.

My weeping caught in my throat even thinking the word. I hadn’t begun to think through that possibility. I wasn’t willing to tackle it now.

* * * *

I didn’t remember climbing back into the shelter and cuddling up next to Musir, but I did so and was gentle enough not to wake him. The morning light shone through the opening in the hut as he sat up gingerly and touched my face. I opened my eyes.

“Your eyes are swollen and red,” he whispered.

My head ached from the night of crying. I knew he must ache so much more. “I let myself worry last night.”

“I imagine it did not do much good.”

“No,” I said with a light chuckle.

“I also imagine it is good to feel how you feel and not bury it as though you are not afraid. I am worried as well.”

Of course he’d be scared. He was facing his own mortality at far too young an age.

“I’ll take care of you with everything I can think of, even if I don’t know a whole lot about wilderness first aid.” I rose up on my elbows and looked up at him sitting over me.

“I don’t mean about that,” he said, staring down into my eyes. He leaned in for a soft kiss and then cradled my cheek in his hand. “I’m worried about you. Let us be honest about the situation. If I do not make it, you will be here alone.”

I sat up and moved to his back, partially to check on his wound and partially so he wouldn’t see my eyes. I swallowed hard when I saw the blood-soaked cloth. The bleeding slowed in the night, but what now? Should I remove the dressing to clean it and risk bleeding again? Should I leave it and hope it wasn’t infected?

“Don’t worry about me.” I tried to soothe him.

“Oh, I know you are strong. I know you are smart. After all, you are the snake-hunter, quick to act. You are the net-fisher and rope-maker, with only your fancy dress. You are resourceful but we are better together, just as I am better with you and would not want to imagine living here without you. We are better and safer together.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again at his words and at the idea of being here in this jungle without him; sleeping in the hut without his arms around me, being utterly alone, possibly for the rest of my life. That wasn’t the worst of it. I didn’t want to be alone on this island, but I really didn’t want to watch this guy die. I loved him, completely and absolutely.

“Then you’re going to have to live.”

“Okay, if you insist,” he said. His voice caught and his face twisted in pain. He amended the agreement. “I’ll try.”