Richard

Standing in the shower, the hot water slewing down my body, my aching muscles sang in relief. It awoke my senses and something else. I better take care of it, now, in the shower. The leggy blonde I would be sharing this cramped space with was not one of my bar bunnies.

She was a friend from adolescence, not a one night stand. Her reaction to the insolent parading of my nakedness rang out loud and clear. She was acquainted with Richard, not Rick, and I would act accordingly.

I remembered she had been a skinny girl, tall for her age. That had not changed, I noticed as I prowled past her. She was not the full figured buxom beauty Rick was accustomed to. She was tall, thin and sexy as hell in her tight jeans.

She must have been my angel, the person I felt by my side, holding my hand. My very own Florence Nightingale. Was she the blonde in my dreams? Was my subconscious playing tricks on me?

She was more beautiful than I remembered. Her golden tresses framing her heart shaped face. Her eyes blue as the ocean. I noticed the dip in the small of her back as her shirt rose when she reached for my clothing.

Fuck, this was not going to be easy.

The water began to run warm; I had used all the hot water. I should have felt guilty but didn't. The warmth eased my sore body.

I dressed in the makeshift bathroom, not wishing to embarrass her further. Most women awed at my magnificent physique and engorged manhood. She had blushed like a schoolgirl.

I looked in the mirror, combed back my long hair with my hand then ran it across my rough chin and face. If I was going to behave like Richard, the scruff would have to go.

How much of my sailboat remained on the shore, how much of my belongings intact? This could be the only clothing I might have for the next few days. Perhaps the flannel pyjamas would come in use after all.

I stepped into the main room to notice it was empty. I searched near the stove, hoping to find my shoes. Rick loved those deck shoes; they were worn, comfortable and the opposite of anything Richard would own.

I looked under the bed. Great, a pair of sneakers my size; they would do. I grabbed the hunting jacket from the back of the door and headed outside.

The air was cool, salty. It triggered a memory and my lungs burned. I scanned the area, the fog extended deep on to the island. The shore was not visible from this location. How far down could I go without risk?

Mac was nowhere in sight. I should let her know I intended to find which of my belongings survived the storm. I was still feeling a little shaky from my ordeal.

I walked to the corner of the cabin and called out to her. I waited but heard no reply. I observed the rope tied to the cabin, one end leading towards the lighthouse, the other sitting on the ground.

I noted mentally; this must have been how Mac got us both back from the shore. She was not only beautiful, she was resourceful and intelligent. The kind of woman whose company Richard would enjoy.

I could use the same principle to get myself down the beach in search of my belongings. I picked up the rope and gave it a tug, making sure it was securely tied to the cabin.

“Where do you think you’re going?” came a screeching voice from within the fog.

“Mac, there you are, I was looking for you.”

“It looks to me like you were going to do something stupid like head down the beach to look at what’s left of your boat. What were you thinking? You could fall and break something!” She was still shrieking at me.

“Wow, Mac, a little overprotective, are we?” I yipped back. “I was just thinking about it. I came looking for you hoping you could help me navigate the shoreline. I was hoping to find a few more clothes and maybe my shaving kit,” I told her as I stroked my face, indicating my desire to remove the facial hair.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t save your ass so you can go get yourself killed meandering in the fog looking for your things.”

“Not even my underwear?” I teased. “I figured you would be pleased if I had something to wear besides those pyjamas.”

“I’m going to make breakfast, then you and I will make an attempt to hit the beach and see if we can salvage anything of use.”

My jeans suddenly became a little tighter than comfortable at her commanding tone.

She turns towards the door of the cabin. I took this opportunity to readjust the bulge against my zipper and responded, “Sounds great. What can I do to help?”

“Getting yourself in the cabin without breaking anything would be nice,” she sassed.

As we sat eating, I decided now was a good a time as any to approach the elephant in the room. “I heard about your father’s accident last year. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” was all she replied.

“My father told me your husband was lost as well?”

Mackenzie sat there drinking her coffee and nodded politely. “Your father has always been a kind man. He attended the funeral and made a generous donation to the widows fund.”

“Do you return to the island often?” I asked, curious.

Her jaw tensed slightly, her body language silently screaming for me to shut it down. I needed to appease her, quick.

“I’m sorry if I brought up sad memories. If I am going to be here a couple of days,” I hesitated, “I am going to mention your father from time to time, Mac. I have a lot of good memories of being here. I don’t want it to be weird,” I said.

Mackenzie took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yesterday was the first time I’ve been back since the accident,” she whispered. “It was too hard. I was afraid I would fall apart.”

Guilt ate at me for pushing the subject. This conversation was for my benefit, not hers. Her beautiful face looked fragile, fatigued. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re uncomfortable,” I added, then blurted, “why yesterday?”

She shot me a look that would have knocked over any prize fighter.

“No, no, don’t take this wrong,” I explained. “You haven’t stepped foot on this island in a year. Last night, when I was floundering in that,” I waved towards the ocean, “here you were. I thought seeing you was a dream, an angel calling to me. I wasn’t sure to where, but I knew I had to follow.

So why yesterday of all days?”

After a long pause, she began. “Yesterday was the anniversary of the accident. The town was holding a vigil. My choices was face that or face this,” she confessed. Mackenzie kept her head down, then revealed something that broke my heart.

“Yesterday also was my wedding anniversary.”

I reached across the table and put my hand over hers to comfort her. She pulled back. “I shouldn’t pry,” was all that I could muster.

“A little late for that,” she retorted curtly, continuing to sip her coffee.

Her voice became softer. “You’re right, if we are going to be stranded, we will have to talk to each other. Better get the hard ones out now.

Will your wife be worried you’re shacking up with another woman?”

“Playing twenty questions, are we?” I tormented in return. “No wife, no kids, no personal commitments. The only people who are going to be worried are my family and business partner.

My turn, what was your husband's name?”

“Michael,” she smiled. “He was a marine biologist,” she volunteered.

“Am I wearing his shoes?” I piped up almost in a panic.

“No,” she laughed, “you are wearing mine.”

“You always did have big feet,” I casually added as I finished my breakfast. I was pleased she pulled her hand away; what I felt when I touched it was surprising. It sent a sensation through me that left me wanting.

I wanted to explore why, well aware of the danger of going there.

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but why yesterday, Mac? If you were not here to pull me out, I would not have made it.”

“Like I said, the town decided to hold a vigil on the first anniversary of the accident to remember the four men lost that night. I didn’t think I could be there, so I ran here.

I wasn’t sure how that was going to play out, either.

Something pulled me out here yesterday. I woke up dreading attending that vigil, but it was more… I can’t explain it. You were right, you were extremely lucky that this was where I decided to run to.”

“I don’t care what brought you here, all I know is that I am very grateful.”

We sat silently. I had hit a raw nerve. I did not want to come off as disrespectful.

“Why did you stop coming?” She shocked me with the question.

“I got too old to be hanging out with the old man anymore,” that was all the explanation I was willing to give.

“I thought maybe you were too afraid to face my father after the incident in the storm shelter.”

“Fuck, I remember that day. Is that thing operational?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had the chance to try to pry it open. My priorities were to check the generator and bring some dry wood inside.

I was out back this morning; the storm dropped a few logs over top the entrance. I cleared them off but then I heard you calling my name and became distracted.”

“Wow, the last time I was down there…” I paused.

“My father caught us playing strip poker,” she finished. “The look on your face when he came down in stealth mode.”

I smirked at the memory. “I was so scared, my father right behind him. I had no idea what to say. What could I say? I was sure he was going to shoot me with that speargun that hung on the wall.

All your father did was look at mine and ask him, this is how you raise your son? To lose at poker, to a girl? Richard, you need to make a man out of him.”

“I hadn’t lost one stitch of clothing and there you were ready to lose your socks and boxers,” Mackenzie laughed.

“Did you stop to think that maybe I was letting you win?” I tempted.

She blushed. Was she remembering what I looked like naked?

“Besides myself, you were the most competitive person I have ever met. You didn’t let me win, I won fair and square.” She took our empty plates and placed them in the metal dish pan for washing.

“I think the fog should be clearing lower onto the island. Maybe we should try a trek to the beach, if you feel up to it.”

I could feel her pulling away. Something in the air had changed. Had I been too forward with her? Was I behaving like Rick when I needed to be Richard?

I needed that trip to the beach to retrieve my own things, to retrieve Richard's things.

“I think if I take my time and go slow, I won’t give you any reason to have to carry me back again.” I tried to return the conversation to one less suggestive.

She laughed as she opened the door, stuck her head outside and announced, “Better grab that hunting jacket, it’s still a little chilly out there.”

I enjoyed the bantering. How long had it been since I spent time with a woman having a conversation that was not going to end with me drunk, naked and in bed? Not necessarily in that order.

I would not mind finding myself in that predicament with Mac. Her husband had been deceased a year. She must have moved on by now, taken other lovers.

I could not remember a time when I had gone without sex.

How long I could go without sex?

Was I about to find out?