Chapter 8
I came to with water sloshing over my ankles and the eerie screeching sound of metal scraping against metal echoing in the wind. Darkness filled the cabin of the plane, and a dense fog in my brain lifted. Recalling the chain of events punched me in the gut. Whirling my head toward Garrett, I found his motionless body slumped forward with the seatbelt holding him in place.
“Garrett!” I yelled in sheer panic, fumbling with the clasp on my own harness. “Garrett, can you hear me?”
Leaning over him, I gently shook his shoulder and palmed his forehead. Warm liquid coated my fingertips, and I bit back climbing hysteria.
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding! Please wake up, Garrett! Please!”
Oh God, please let him be alive!
Gingerly placing my shaking index and middle fingers against the side of his neck, I prayed I would feel the thrum of his pulse against my skin.
“Can you hear me?”
He let out a soft groan, and I cried out in relief. Slowly he turned his head toward me, whispering, “Broo…Brooke.”
“Oh thank God. I’m here. Stay with me, Garrett.”
“Are you hurt?” His hushed tone sounded forced.
“No, I’m okay. You…you have a gash on your forehead. I-I can’t tell how big it is.”
“Get…your cell, or get mine from…my pocket.” He leaned his head back against the headrest and let out a small moan. “Check for a signal. “
I glanced around for mine then scrambled to retrieve his from his back pocket. Holding it up in front of us, I saw zero bars lit up, and hope for reaching help faded away.
“Nothing.”
“Use the flashlight feature…shine it through the window and tell me what you see.”
With a shaking hand, I held the device as he’d instructed. “Palm trees—we’re on land.” I followed the sands all the way below the door of the plane. “You did it, Garrett! You landed us safely. Hang on, I’m going to make a place for you to lie down outside.”
“No. We stay inside the plane tonight. Tomorrow we’ll comb the island for signs of civilization and make sure we’re in a safe area.”
“You need to lie down.”
I shined the light on the open gash above on the right side of his forehead and my eyes widened. Blood pooled in his hairline and a small trickle ran down his cheek, making my heart pound against my chest.
“Am I going to make it, doc?” Both humor and worry flickered in his dark eyes. “It’s probably smaller than it looks. Cuts on the head always bleed a lot and look far worse than they actually are.”
“You need stitches.”
“Unless you have a needle and thread, that’s not going to happen. Get the first aid kit out of the compartment in front of you and steri-strip it.”
Running on adrenaline, I found the white box stamped with a red cross on the top. “I still think you should let me help you lie down.”
“I’m good. The seat reclines.”
“But—”
“No buts, Brooke. Help me clean it up and I’ll be okay.” He swallowed hard. “Let me see my phone.”
I handed him the device and watched him shine it out the window on his side. He sighed in relief.
“We’re somewhat in the water but looks like we’re in a good position.”
“What if the tide pushes more water inside?”
“We’re shoved into the sand and barely in the water. We’ll be safe.”
A deafening silence filled the plane as I listened to the waves lap the shore. Under the moonlit sky, he reached for my hand where it rested between us. Intertwining his fingers with mine, he gently squeezed. All the adrenaline left my body in a rush, and a sudden rush of dizziness swept over me.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“Can the radio be fixed?”
“I suspect it’s magneto problems, or—”
“English. I don’t know what the hell a magneto is.”
“We’re sitting in a dead plane—no radio, no working electronics.”
“Does anyone know where we are? I mean, doesn’t someone monitor the planes in the sky on radar or some shit?” I whispered, afraid of the answer.
“The airport has a log of where we were headed. They’ll send a search party as soon as they realize we never made it.”
“How long before they find us?”
“Days, weeks, months—I don’t know. Our best hope is to find a village for help.”
“I have to get home to my mother. She’s sick, Garrett, really sick, and I need to be there for her.”
He squeezed my hand harder. “I know she is. I’ll get you home, I promise.”
I squeezed back, my hand craving his touch even as he held it. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good.”
“Liar. Hang on, let me see if I can climb into the back. I packed some over-the-counter pain and fever reducer.”
“No, just help me clean it up.”
Easing my hand from his, I said, “Now’s not the time to be stubborn.”
“See if there’s a bottle of whiskey stowed back there.”
After climbing over the seat, I made my way to the back of the plane. Rummaging through my bag, I found the pain reliever.
“The tail must be on land—there’s barely any water back here.”
“It is. Looks like we’re in a small curve of the beach.”
Crawling back to the seat beside Garrett, I placed two caplets in his hand and handed him a small bottled water. “They’re extra-strength.”
“No whiskey?”
“Stop joking around.”
“I wasn’t.” He swallowed the tablets and swished some water around in his mouth before handing the bottle back to me. “Take a few sips. We need to ration it in case we don’t have a fresh water supply.”
I shook my head. “I’m okay. Let me get you taken care of.”
Angling the flashlight in one hand, I dabbed the cloth doused with antiseptic around the gash, cleaning away dried blood. He never moved a muscle, not even when I passed over the open wound.
“I’m sorry, I know that stings.”
“I’ll live.”
“You better—I can’t do this by myself.” I tried to sound teasing, though I felt anything but playful.
“I’ll keep you safe until the rescue team comes for us. Can you gauge the size of the laceration yet?”
Softly I wiped the last trace of dried blood and patted the ooze to keep it from running into his eyebrow. “It’s gaping a bit, but it’s only about an inch long.”
“Steri-strip it.”
Careful not to inflict more pain, I drew his skin closed with my thumb and index finger then applied the sticky bandages to hold it closed.
“You good?”
“I’m good. Thank you, Brooke.”
“Have you…ever been in a situation like this?”
“Survived a plane crash in the middle of the ocean with a beautiful woman? No.” His lips curled into a smile that intoxicated me, as if I were under the influence, three sheets to the wind.
He called me beautiful.
“Humor me. At least brag about being a Boy Scout or tell me how you and your brothers camped in the middle of nowhere all the time. Tell me you have a fancy little survival pocketknife and skills where you can build a cabin in a day, start a fire by rubbing sticks together, and cook a gourmet meal over it.”
“I’ll take care of you, Brooke, I promise.” He found my hand again, and this time it was me who squeezed. His strong but gentle hold eased my mind from spiraling out of control.
“I know.”
We held hands for a while, the sound of the waves lulling me into a dozy, somnolent state.
“Is safe for you to sleep?” I forced my eyes open.
“I’ll be okay. Probably just a mild concussion. Hell, I had worse than this growing up with Stone and Chad. Go to sleep, Brooke.”
I drifted off as he traced circles on the back of my hand with the pad of his thumb.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself alone. Straight ahead, miles of beach stretched as far as I could see. Pink and gray skies shaded the early dawn sky in what could have been the perfect postcard but was nothing more than a beautiful hell.
I thought of my mother.
I wondered if she knew I was missing, and if she did, how she was holding up. Tears welled in my eyes knowing her already frail body may not withstand the stress of all this.
At her last appointment, the doctors had said that even though she was at the top of the recipient list, if she didn’t get a matching donor within a few months, we should consider hospice. I looked into the sky, searching for hope, silently pleading for a rescue party to find us.
“Garrett?” I pushed open the door, stepping onto the sugary sand.
“Over here.” His voice echoed from down the beach behind me.
He strode toward me, shirtless, khaki shorts riding low on his hips as he carried a machete. My eyes traveled up and down his naturally tan skin. It should be a sin for a man to have a chest that rippled and defined. My lips parted of their own accord, and my blood simmered.
Damn he is gorgeous.
He let out a cocky chuckle, breaking the trance, and I felt a pink flush warm my cheeks. Horrified that he’d caught me checking him out, I faked a yawn and stretched my arms over my head. His eyes traveled downward, and something wicked flashed in his stare. The hazy stupor faded as I realized the hem of my shirt had inched up, showing more than a trace of skin. I quickly lowered my arms and forced a calm face.
He held up the machete. “I’d asked for a few things to be stashed in the outside compartment since I didn’t know what we’d be getting into at Bella Vista. Worked to our advantage here.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Not long.”
“You should have woken me.”
“You needed the rest.”
“How’s your head feeling this morning?” I swallowed hard.
“I’m good.” He tipped his head toward a line of palms. “We’ll set up a small shelter here. I already walked a ways down the beach—no sign of people. The island is small, so it shouldn’t take that long to scout all the way to the other end. There’s also a lagoon with fresh water not far from here. We can refill the empty water bottles until we figure out some other containers.”
He slid the machete into the compartment on the side of the plane and retrieved a screwdriver and hammer from a toolbox. Speechless, I stared in awe at his nonchalant manner, as if this were some random camping trip instead of being stranded in the middle of nowhere.
He plopped down on a large piece of driftwood underneath a palm tree and scooped up a coconut from a stash I hadn’t noticed. “Today’s going to be a long day of manual labor. By the end of the day we’ll be exhausted, but we need to push ourselves to get as much as possible done. First we need to make a place to sleep.”
“Can’t we sleep inside the plane?”
“It’s too humid. In a shelter, the breeze will pass through and keep us cool.”
I sat down beside him. “Tell me what to do and I’ll help.”
He grinned, tucking a loose tendril of my hair behind my ear. “Come on, we’ll gather some wood first. We’ll need a large bonfire to signal a passing ship or plane. Take as many breaks as you need, and drink enough water to stay hydrated.”
“When we get back, I’ll expect the same—sleeping in, loafing around during the day, and not a single complaint out of your mouth.” I grinned and winked.
He let out a soft chuckle before hammering small holes into the hard-brown shell, making it look like a bowling ball. In a matter of seconds, he poured water from the fruit into a large scalloped shell.
“It doesn’t look like we have to worry about that any time soon. The damn deal with La Amory is probably going to shit now.”
“Do you think they’ve figured out we’re missing yet?”
“Yes.” He extended the makeshift cup to me.
“Then maybe there’s a chance we’ll be rescued soon?” I sipped the delicious coconut water, still trying to wrap my mind around the reality of being a castaway. He was worried about the million-dollar deal, and I wanted to see my mother again.
What if we’re never rescued? What if no one ever finds us?
“Not likely, but yes, there is a chance of that.” He tapped the hammer all the way around the circumference of the shell until it cracked open. Slicing into the white meat with a small pocketknife, he lifted a piece toward me. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”
Not likely.
What if Mom got the call? What if she had the transplant? What if her body rejected it? What if…she didn’t survive? What if we aren’t ever rescued and…
A sudden wave of nausea swept through my stomach and my emotions churned hard. I felt as though I were about to dry-heave. Placing my hands on my knees, I bent over, trying to breathe through it.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“What if we’re never found?”
He jumped to his feet and pulled me upward into his chest as he circled his arms around me. “We survived the emergency landing last night, so we can survive this. I promise if a ship passes or a plane flies over, I’ll make sure they see us.”
“I know you will. Though we want to be rescued for two very different reasons, I know you will try your best.” My voice cracked, and my shoulders trembled against his arms.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stroked the back of my hair, pulling me in tighter.
“You’re worried about the deal falling through, and I’m overwhelmed with the weight and grief of the very real possibility that my mother may die without me getting a chance to say I love her one last time. I may never hear her voice again. There are unsaid things I need to tell her, things I should have already said, and it may be too late.”
He pressed his lips against the top of my head. “You’re going to get to do all of those things. Until then, your mother will be taken care of, Brooke.”
“My Aunt Jilly can only stay for a few days, maybe a week at the longest. She’s using vacation time from her job and left my Uncle Carl in Kansas City. I have to get home. There isn’t anyone else to help her.”
“George and Greta will take care of Rachel.”
I froze as uneasiness slithered down my spine. Garrett had called my mom by her first name, as if he knew her…just like he had with Jason.