“Why not go out on a limb? Isn't that where the fruit is?” -- Frank Scully
Amanda opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the dimming fire. She had tried to smooth out a nest in the sand before she fell asleep, but there were lumps in all the wrong places. What she wouldn’t have given for a bed. Tight muscles and banged up limbs protested as she squirmed on the hard sand beneath her. Running her toes through the cold granules, she contemplated staying put for a while longer. That idea was short lived. If she could just stretch out—painful as it was, her blood would start flowing, and maybe that Charlie horse in her calf would ease. She jumped when her spine cracked at the top of her stretch, then she relaxed into the sand and closed her eyes. Much better.
The warm sun was already breaking though the horizon, kissing her cheeks. In a few short hours she’d be sweating, but for now, she was cold. Well, she had to get up sometime. She rolled onto her knees before pushing herself to her feet with a groan. And nearly fell over the lump lying to her left. Cocooned in the blanket, her sleeping partner was wedged up against the large log that they had claimed as their base. Comfort didn’t seem to be an option on the island for either of them.
He looked completely exhausted. Not able to shave during the four days in Brenes’ camp had only added to his deteriorating appearance. Staying up most of the night keeping an eye on both the fire and her didn’t help matters. He'd woken her several times to make sure she was okay. She recalled him whispering to her as he nudged her awake. “You never can be too sure with concussions, Amanda.” She realized now that she could have been a bit more thankful than she was at the time. Hopefully, most of what she grumbled had been incoherent.
She quietly grabbed her backpack and walked along the shoreline--so much to explore. No sense in waking him just yet; she’d see if she could find something for breakfast first.
She was nearly over the ridge when she saw their plane--a tangled mess of metal and branches at the edge of the small clearing. She couldn’t see how Lee walked away from it. The cabin was wedged into a large rock formation and the windows were completely knocked out. She shuddered at the thought of him crammed in that tiny space. Somehow he got not only himself out of there but carried her out as well. Amazing.
Circling past the wreckage, she heard the faint sounds of water flowing. Since she was moving further and further away from the sea, she figured there must be fresh water somewhere near by. Pushing past the overgrown brush, she found a small pool of clear water, and the crystal spring that trickled into it from up above. She bent down and scooped up a handful of water and tentatively took a sip—it was heavenly. Cold, crisp, and best of all—salt free.
With a shrug of her shoulders, the pack dropped to the sand and Amanda rifled through it, pulling out fresh undergarments, a shirt, and pair of pants. She felt grimy from the long night and the caked on blood and intermixed sand didn’t help. Clean sounded wonderful.
Leaning over the water’s edge, she could feel the sun warming her back--it was going to be another scorcher. She grabbed a stick and poked it through her clean shirt. The ripping sounds broke through the quiet morning, startling her, and it finally hit. They really were all alone. Well, dwelling on it wasn't going to make it any better.
After inspecting the light pink shirt she nodded at her handy work and continued with the other side. When she was done she started in on her khaki pants. Tailoring done, she pulled the bloodstained tee shirt over her head, wet the edges with her opened bottle of water, and wiped her face and body with it. At least she’d be able to scour away a couple of layers of dirt and blood. She smiled to herself. Lee was going to be so—
“A-man-da! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Why did you wonder off? You could have gotten hurt!
“Lee!” She screamed, diving for cover behind a nearby tree. The triumphant smile that was there only seconds before was now replaced with a scowl. She poked her head around the tall palm and looked down at her state of undress, motioning him to turn around. “Do you mind?” When he complied she buttoned her newly cut shirt and snapped her shorts closed. Was he looking? A quick glace told her he hadn't peeked. She tied the ends of her shirt together and grinned. Ready to face the world.
“I’m sorry about that. I was just worried when I woke up and you were gone.”
“I know. I guess I should have told you but you were sleeping so soundly, and I know you couldn’t have gotten much rest last night what with watching over me and the fire.”
He eyed her from head to toe. “You look . . . better this morning.”
“I feel better. Look what I found.” She pointed to the small spring behind him. “Fresh water!”
“That’s great. I take it you saw the plane?” He eyed her suspiciously as if waiting for her to cringe.
She shivered. “I saw it. Lee, how ever did you get out of there? Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She walked over and examined him. Scanning for any major injuries--only finding minor cuts and scrapes.
He grabbed her hands and smiled. “Amanda, I’m fine. Honest. I guess I was just lucky. I have to admit it was a bit tricky getting out of that cockpit. I’m not really quite sure how I did it. I just knew I had to get back there to you . . .”
She smiled warmly at him and trailed her fingers down his arm. “So, are you hungry? Why don’t I go see if I can find something edible for breakfast while you get cleaned up, huh?”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
She glanced around, feeling a bit awkward. “So, I’ll just . . .” Turning on her heel she headed in the direction of what she hoped would be breakfast.
“Uh, Amanda?”
Turning back, she replied. “Yeah?”
“Don’t go wandering too far, huh?”
She nodded and smiled knowingly. “Right.”
SMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMK
“He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit.” -- Sir Walter Scott
He turned around to show off his new attire and briefly wondered if she cut his shorts a bit too short on purpose. “So, what do you think?”
“You look like a new man. Feel better?” She asked from her seat beside the fire.
“Yeah, thanks for the . . . trim.” He pulled at the threads hanging off his shorts, hoping she wouldn’t notice the bruising up and down his legs from the crash.
“Come on over.” She patted the sand next to her, grabbing a banana and peeling it as he plopped down next to her. “I know you’re not much on eating breakfast, but after last night’s lack of dinner I thought you might be a little hungry.”
He watched her peel the fruit and then took a bite. His stomach growled and she grinned. “Where did you find these?” He picked up one of the greenish-yellow bananas from the small bunch lying by her feet and sniffed it.
“They were growing not too far from that spring. There’s plenty more . . . I just couldn’t carry that many, what with the carailli and jackfruit.” She indicated the bright green prickly looking object and something else that resembled a rock.
“What the hell are those?”
“I told you, carailli and jackfruit.” She answered matter-of-factly.
He furrowed his brow at her. “Ok, and those would be?”
“Well,” she picked up the bright green prickly thing and tossed it at him. When he caught it she continued. “That is carailli. It’s like a cucumber-type fruit. It’s in the melon family but very bitter. Not the tastiest thing but I wasn’t sure if the ackee were ripe and if they aren’t ripe they are very poisonous. And this,” she tossed him the cylinder-shaped rock. “Is a jackfruit. The pulp is really tasty.”
He shook his head in amazement. “And just how do you all about this, Mrs. King?” He set the unusual fruit down in front of him and took the pocketknife she held out.
“Easy, the Gilstraps went on a Caribbean cruise last year and brought back some. Jamie was so interested in the different tastes he did a school project on the “fruits of the Caribbean.”
“Of course!” He laughed at the normalcy of it all. “Um, Amanda. How did they get it through Customs?”
“Would you suspect a little old couple of transporting illegal fruit into the country?”
“No, I guess not.” He shrugged picking up a piece of the carailli and popping it into his mouth. “Oh God!” Quickly spitting it into the fire, he took a swig of water and wiped his mouth on his shirttail. “That is disgusting!”
“I told you it was bitter.” She giggled. “It can’t be that bad.” She took a small nibble and spit it out just as fast as he had. “Oh my gosh! That’s awful!” She laughed and reached for his water bottle.
He held the bottle above his head. “Oh, I thought it wasn’t so bad?”
“Come on, Lee! Hand it over, I need to rinse my mouth.” She held his right arm with one hand and reached for his left hand and the bottle.
Just as she was about to grab it he pulled his right hand from her grasp and lightly tickled her bare abdomen. He was startled by the softness of her skin. His heart beat a bit faster and his mind screamed that he shouldn’t be doing this but his hand had other ideas.
“Lee! No tickling! That’s not fair!”
He continued his attack, laughing the entire time. “Not fair, Amanda? Making someone eat that stuff is not fair. This,” he dug his fingers deeper into her ribs. “Is totally fair.”
“I – wa—warned you it wa-was bitter.” She gyrated in his arms trying to break free. Suddenly she stopped laughing and fell limp.
“Amanda? Are you ok?” Feeling as if his stomach was now in his throat, he checked her pulse, only to hear her light laughter. Her eyes twinkled back at him, and torn between a laugh and a scream, he pointed his finger in her direction. “Amanda King, that was not funny!”
His gaze dropped to the water in her hand.
“Got you to stop, didn’t I?” She took a big gulp of water and smiled brightly at him.
He sighed as he picked up the jackfruit and stabbed the knife into its juicy core. “Not funny at all.” He whispered as his heart slowly regained it’s steady beat.
TBC . . .
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.