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The island that was their current prison could have been worse, Smokey realized, after a complete search of its shoreline and the jungle like interior. It was late in the evening by the time he and Renie had traversed the rugged ridges and discovered the conditions of their new home. They could survive and maybe even thrive. There were two kinds of fruit—dates and pandanis. It rained a lot here, so they would have to find a way to collect the pure water.
And, there were literally thousands of fish, all kinds, they would learn to catch them. A glance at the sky from where they had come was dark, the clouds were swirling black and menacing. Smokey wasn’t sure if typhoons were something to worry about but the island was small enough that severe winds and waves could wreak havoc to a temporary shelter. The place looked and felt like paradise but the two Indians abandoned on it knew it could kill. They didn’t say much, just looked at each other and read the danger in the furrowed brow. It was something they had to get ahead of or they might never catch up.
Smokey took charge of the evening and asked Renie to gather as many fallen coconuts and dead palm leaves as she could find. She harvested a good pile of each in a few minutes. Smokey Joe found a small coconut tree that had fallen over and, with immense effort, secured it between two other trees horizontally. He wedged it where two trees branched away leaving a crotch of sorts. Taking his boot laces and Renie’s short little Keds white laces, he wound the tops of the palm fronds into a thatch. After an hour of trimming with his pocket knife and throwing them over the horizontal log, he had fashioned a lean-to.
The sun, which had given them hope and warmth was gone, a foreboding chill had settled around the archipelago of sand bars and small green islands. There were four of them in a casual semi-circle with coral reefs and little clear islets between the land forms. Smokey had chosen a sheltered spot, next to a rock shelf. He hoped any violent storm would not take his shelter or blow Renie and himself into the waves. The sudden poc-poc of raindrops hit the trees and the shelter, followed by a huge drenching sheet of water. Smokey tossed the coconuts into the shelter where Renie was crouching, then dove in beside her, saturated with the sudden tropical storm. They sat close together, their body heat seeming to dry the sodden clothing faster than they expected. Smokey looked at Renie and grinned. He thought about making a comment about the clothes dryer they had discovered, but his brain gong sounded a warning. Too soon for any remarks about us, Chief, he thought. He knew traditional American Indian stoicism was the safe plan, not a word until he could find out what she thought about him.
Smokey busied himself, cracking open the coconuts then carving out the fibrous flesh until he had a half shell. Renie would put each one out under the run off from their little lean-to shelter. It was gathering considerable more rain than waiting for drops to land in the shells; soon covering the wet ground were a lot of open side up coconut shells. Somewhere in the first night the storm receded, leaving the slow drip of water responding to gravity and capillary action. Finally, the night became black and silent, a huge silence, mostly because the couple hunkered under the branches couldn’t think of anything to say and they were too uncomfortable to sleep.
Renie prayed silently for her children and for the Lord to help them survive. She wept a little, trying to hide her emotions from the quiet Indian, beside her. She was not used to the physical connection and he could feel her uneasiness; a tacit and unspoken barrier that just made him uneasy. In her heart, she thanked God for allowing this man to be lost here with her, knowing she couldn’t last a day without him and his resourcefulness. Her heart almost melted with gratitude. Somehow, Smokey could sense her starting to relax, maybe she had snuggled a little closer, he couldn’t trust himself.
A soft ripple of wind rustled the palms. Sitting there in the dark with Renie seemed surreal. He could feel her warmth and hear her steady breath. It was real. Smokey thanked the shamans and the great universe for allowing this lady to be stuck there with him. If he had to be marooned again, this was the way he would have ordered it. He was deeply regretting his insane outburst at the sky, the helicopter and the abandonment. They were alive and together. It would have taken years to get to know her in front of Ho, Chloe and Luke. Structured society required so much tip-toeing around, pretending not to care and observing everyone else’s protocols, such as waiting a certain period after a spouse’s funeral before dating again or even considering it. Maybe being cast away in this Godforsaken place, with nothing but 3,000 square miles of ocean between them and another living being was a blessing. The shamans knew and Smokey knew. His gratitude was overwhelming. He decided to say something.
“I know your children gone missing is a burden, Renie. We have gone from the rat race to no race at all. I know also this arrangement is sudden and you have not had proper mourning for the passing of the bishop. I don’t want our physical touch to bother you, but fate or the ancients have put us together, this is the best we can do, Renie. Sorry.”
“I’m more likely to be hot and bothered than just bothered, Black Elk. I’m a woman, not a teenage child. I know we are forced into a social and domestic closeness but I am afraid to allow myself normal feelings. Please don’t misread my actions as needing anything more than companionship and survival.” Renie said cautiously, not trusting the night, her feelings or the man beside her.
Smokey just grunted. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear but it wasn’t hostile either. After what seemed half the night but was only a few minutes, he ventured another comment.
“Read a thing on Facebook. It said ‘some people are born to be great, others have greatness thrust upon them’”, Smokey quoted.
“What is that supposed to mean to us, stuck here?”
“Oh nuthin’ ‘cept I was thinkin’—the parallel of some people seeking each other and falling in love, while others maybe have circumstances that choose love for them. I was...ummm...just thinkin’ this might be a little like that.”
“That is pretty deep, Smokey, I’m not sure what to think about that.”
“Well, we were made to enjoy the world, to enjoy our life, our humanity. We are to enjoy the fresh air, the rain, the sunshine. I think we are expected to enjoy each other also. God didn’t put us on this tiny island to hide and distrust each other or to practice being lonely.”
“That’s nice Smokey, you almost sound like a preacher. I don’t intend to practice being lonely.”
“Me neither, don’t need no practice. I’ve been lonely long enough. We could be here for months, maybe the rest of our lives. Other people’s expectations are not ours.” Smokey didn’t know what else to say. He thought a few minutes then blurted out, “Here, we are free, just as free as we want to be.”
“Hmmmm.”
“Well, there, I said it. I have never been good at this relationship thing, relationships mean aunts, uncles and cousins to me.”
“Chief Joseph White Goat, could we just lie down here and sleep. We don’t have to sort this all out on the first day. You said we might be here a long time, maybe we could discuss this stuff in the morning or sometime.”
“In the mornin’ we will be fishin’ and tryin’ to start a fire,” Smokey protested. Renie giggled as he tried to explain cuddling, “What I am tryin’ to say here is, if I cuddle up to you and put my arms around you, it is for survival. Your kids don’t need to know.”
Renie settled down in the narrow dry spot and patted the ground next to her. “I’ll try to make surviving easy on you, Smokey.” She giggled again as Smokey lay down tight next to her, put his arms around her waist and shoulder and cuddled. He didn’t think he would be able to sleep being so close to a lady, this lady, especially, but the spoon position was warm, comfortable, and dry. Propping himself on an elbow, he looked down at her peacefully sleeping, her breaths moving like a soft wind on the desert. His needs and his body were betraying him, sleep would be a stranger.
Some loud migrant bids woke them up. The sun was shining as if there had never been a storm. Both of them wondered if they had dreamt all the stuff from the previous night. It didn’t take long to realize they were in a real world; a world with only two people in it. Their coconut shells were all full. They had water.
Smokey took out his pocket knife and sharpened two five-foot-long sticks. They waded out into the clear beautiful aquamarine sea. With the water about forty inches, they stood like statues.
“When they stop to wonder what your toes are, they’ll be distracted, I was. That’s when you slam the stick through ‘em.” instructed Smokey Joe.
“The next time you are distracted, I’ll try to remember that advice,” teased the statue of Renie.
A couple hours of patient waiting and learning to be quick on the down stroke garnered four colorful fish. Neither of them knew what kind they were but they were today’s menu. After the unpleasant task of cleaning and taking off the heads, they were stuffed with coconut meat, and a little seaweed for salty flavor. Smokey got some pandanus fruit and cut strips to put on when they were about cooked, provided they could even get a fire with which to cook. The problem was no fire, no dry fuel and nothing with which to make fire. Smokey took an amulet from around his neck; it was a spear head he had found down by White Mountain, probably Apache. He had worn it for years for luck and it would take luck to call this island experience a vacation but that’s how Smokey had elected to look at it. One of the few things missing was fire.
It took a lot of hits with the end of his knife before a spark started to smolder on the roughed up, frazzled piece of bark they used for starter. Carefully blowing on the smoke finally produced flame. The sight made Renie involuntarily cheer and start to clap.
“Bravo, hero,” she exclaimed. “I am going to cook you some great fish, if I had oil, a pan and seasoning, it would be a meal to remember.”
“It will be anyway, my first away from home cooked seafood and I am starving. Any food is perfect for a starving person. Stuck up at the Buddhist temple, I would have given anything for a meal, some water and you to keep me warm. This is not too bad, Renie,” said Smokey, congenially. She bit her lip and shyly, Smokey thought, looked out across the ocean. Shouldn’t a said that, thought the poor, embarrassed Indian.
Smokey kept his mouth shut for the preparation of the meal; he knew that this lovely Zuni had a lot on her mind and her heart; a recently passed mate, two children missing and the castaway thing. He remained silent and visibly humbled.
Later, after a decent fish dinner that seemed like tilapia sautéed in coconut oil with mango, citrus, and a trace of cilantro. They walked along the beach, eventually sitting by each other, watching the waves roll in and froth up the white sand. Their new home was breath taking gorgeous, and they put their fears about the future on hold.
Renie told him about her young days, growing up south of Farmington, New Mexico. Her family had joined the LDS Church, when she was seven. She grew up wanting to go on a mission and be like the two missionaries who had brought them to baptism. She considered it a calling and a way to pay back their good fortune. After high school, she had been selected to go on a mission to Canada and met her husband while proselyting. After her mission, they stayed in touch and were soon married. He was a mining technician and was hired by some energy companies to help mine Southeastern Utah. After the kids were born, he had met his death when a methane explosion occurred. It was hard on her, being half Indian, and alone in the Mormon community, but she eventually was courted by Mr. Esplin. She noted how Smokey looked away and kind of hung his head.
It was a convenient marriage she told Smokey, she was not terribly in love, but he was steady and had offered the kids a better life and would keep them in the straight and narrow. He had tried, but Ho was a difficult boy and now there was Chloe, she couldn’t hide the worry; the girl was difficult too.
She finished up her narrative with a slam. “Then Black Elk showed up and I think you know the rest of the story.”
“Black Elk embarrassed, Ho made him do it.” Smokey laughed lightly. He really wanted to talk about something else, anything else. There was a long, awkward pause with nothing, anywhere to fill it. “I liked your life story, especially the part about being OK with Esplin because he was convenient.” She looked at him startled. “It’s nice to know you accept convenient deals.”
“Meaning this is about as convenient as deals ever get?”
“Yeah, sort of the last man-on-earth deal but it makes me feel like a yard sale guy, an old bachelor nobody else wants and you settle for it because you only got a couple bucks,” Smokey dead panned. It brought peals of laughter from Renie. “Get whatcha pay for; bout the cost for cold pizza,” she laughed even more. It was good being alone with Renie.
“You are A-list can’t miss now; but then, for a cougar, I’m a smokin’ catch, too,” laughed Renie.
They knew they were just killing time. This relationship or desperation dating game was going to move a lot faster than it would have. Smokey was right, they were about as free as they wanted to be. There would be adjustments but their actually becoming a couple was doable, probably because of this island. The shamans always know what is best, Smokey marveled to himself.
He started wondering if she was thinking along the same line and he started wondering if there was anything to smoke on their little patch of paradise. He was a bachelor, having a steady woman would take some getting used to, and for her, there was no waiting for Mr. Right, or a church’s approval or even her children’s OK.
“What are you thinking, right now?” Smokey ventured.
“Being castaways kind of overrides the excuses.”
“As in a specific length for mourning.”
“Making sure someone is the right one or even trying to be proper,” noted Renie.
“As far as I am concerned, this was going to happen when I saw and heard your voice, with Red Feather at Tspango Canyon monastery. You saved my life, Renie.” Smokey whispered, as he touched her hand sitting on the hot sand. She didn’t move her hand but she started to cry, which was disconcerting to Smokey. It wasn’t about him it was about Chloe; but Smokey Joe couldn’t read that, he just thought she was feeling forced to settle for the obvious guy, the only guy.
Smokey Joe picked up the sharp sticks and went fishin’. Women were kachabas, too.