(With editing and critical input by "
larryinseattle"
without whom my stories would never be as good.)
*
Rachel sat on the beach watching the flare soar into the sky. It rose higher and higher, then seemed to hang there for the briefest of moments before dropping down into the sea. Inwardly she wondered if maybe, just maybe, this time someone would see it.
It was the fourth rocket she and Dennis had sent up since arriving on their little piece of the ocean, three months before. The island, actually an atoll according to Dennis, was virtually barren of anything usable. A few scrub trees and bushes eked out a meager existence while everything else was covered in a stiff grass. It was only because of Dennis's ingenuity that they had survived at all.
Slowly, everything faded around her as she remembered how it had all begun. Like many from her hometown in Ireland, she sought a better life. In her case that meant the pursuit of the love of cooking. See had been educated in Ireland, Europe, and the US where she had fallen in love.
Jeremy was a culinary student just like she was. They met in school and their relationship had blossomed. They maintained an on-going competition as to who was the best chef and their standing went back and forth throughout school. After graduation, they married just as everyone had expected but within months, things began to change. She quickly obtained a position at a prestigious restaurant located on the "Upper East Side" while he struggled to find anything other then infrequent catering jobs.
The final straw came when she was offered a job on a cruise ship that set sail for the islands of the Caribbean almost weekly. He found the letter on the kitchen table and flew into a violent tirade before she even had a chance to tell him that she wasn't going to take the position so she could stay with him.
By the time she was released from the hospital she had decided the "Big Apple" wasn't for her any longer. Possibly due to her Irish heritage and love of the sea, she soon found herself looking for jobs on any ship that was leaving the area. After just two days, she was hired onto a medium-sized sailing ship that was heading down the coast to Florida. Throughout the day, she worked as a deck-hand but at meal time she dazzled the owner and crew with her cooking. For the next several weeks they sailed 'The Keys' and the Caribbean and it was only when the owner told them that it was time to 'head back North' that she knew her time with them was done.
Disembarking on St. Croix, she soon found herself yet another job, this one in a Caribbean diner, but something was missing and each time she looked out at the sea, she knew what it was. Just two brief months later, she quit to take a job on a yacht heading for the Pacific. The cruise was uneventful since it was a corporately owned ship and she spent many hours in the galley perfecting what she had learned on St. Croix.
When the crew was discharged, she found herself half way around the world on the docks of Santa Barbara, California. For the next week she acted like a tourist, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, but each morning she felt the draw of the sea getting stronger and stronger until once again she was on the docks looking for a job.
As fate would have it, she had just entered a small, local diner that provided food for the working staff of the various yachts when an 'old salt' of a captain walked in and took a seat. The owner of the diner, obviously a friend, came over and took a seat beside him. For the next 15 minutes they made small-talk until she heard the captain ask the owner, "You don't know of a cook that's looking for a job do you? My usual guy got into a bit of a tussle and his wrist is broken." The owner shook his head and Rachel decided now was the time to act.
Standing, she walked up to the captain and announced in a full Irish brogue, "I don' kno' abou' a co'k ba' I kno' of a chef."
"And who might that be?"
"ME," she replied.
The captain gave her a 'once over' before saying, "Prove it."
She stood there until she noticed a glance pass between the captain and the owner. A slight nod was all it took and she headed for the kitchen.
Less than half an hour later, she returned. Broiled halibut on a bed of seared vegetables, a single-serving sized dinner loaf, with fresh Columbian coffee, and for dessert, a bowl of mint ice cream.
Try as he might, he quickly lost his hard-nosed demeanor and said, "Hired," before giving her directions to the yacht between mouths full of food.
She rushed back to her small hotel room, packed her belongings, and was barely on board before the new owner and his party arrived. Peeking from below decks, she saw a gentleman in a tuxedo with a young lady who was obviously his new wife but more surprising was the young man who was accompanying them.
Even now the thought of that moment sent a shiver up and down her spine. At least 6-feet tall, he had brown wavy hair and piercing grey eyes that instantly took her breath away. Listening closely, she learned that his name was Aaron before slipping back into her room. That night for the first time since her marriage had ended, she had a dream that left her so turned on that when she woke, her inner thighs were saturated with her juices.
When she dressed the next morning, she made sure that she was showing all of her 'natural assets' for Aaron to enjoy, and he did. She was surprised to see how a young man with such grooming and upbringing was so shy around a woman; yet she seemed drawn to him even more because of it. That night she slipped into his cabin and they became lovers.
Soon she was spending almost every night with Aaron but that ended 'that night.' They had been asleep in each other's arms when the storm hit and soon afterwards something collided with the yacht. In the confusion, she ended up in the life raft with another crew member, Dennis, while Aaron ended up in the life raft with his adoptive father, Nathan and new step-mother, Miranda.
For awhile, the two rafts stayed together but then a rope that had been hanging off the side of the raft became tangled with something and they were pulled away from the wreck. When the storm ended the next morning, the wreck and the other raft were nowhere in sight, although they thought they saw the other raft far in the distance as it crested a wave later in the day, that was the last they saw of it.
They spent the next seven days in the raft surviving on the meager supplies from the survival kit until Dennis spotted the low, hazy image of their present home. It took most of the day to get them to the atoll. Immediately, he began to prove that behind all his loud talk and bravado there was knowledge to back it up.
Within two days, he had built them a shelter from their life raft and fish traps to capture food but most important, he built them several solar stills to provide fresh water. Having provided for the basics, they decided to rest and recuperate for the next several days, but Mother Nature had other plans.
That night a storm blew in with high waves and winds. Together, they curled up under the make-shift shelter, each holding onto a side to keep it from being blown away. When they crawled out from under it the next morning they were surprised and overwhelmed with what they found.
Scattered across the beach were boxes and plastic containers, ropes, 55-gallon drums, rolls of cloth, and wooden planks that they quickly recognized as being from their yacht. Yet, Dennis was far more intrigued by what he saw half-submerged just off shore. There, a large, yellow shipping container sat on the reef that surrounded their little home.
Plunging into the water, he reached the container and using a rock, broke open the lock holding it shut. Once open, he began pulling the contents out and carrying it to shore. Over and over he repeated the trip until, at last, the container was empty.
At the same time, she had been doing an inventory of the boxes. Due to the variety of goods, she guessed that the container must have been heading for a convenience store or truck stop. Inside the boxes and containers she had found beef jerky, snack packs of various cheeses, packages of candy, crackers, souvenir coffee mugs, canned meats, dry goods, ponchos, small canisters of propane gas, charcoal, tea, three tanks of helium, and box after box of heavy-duty party balloons.
That night they feasted on SPAM breaded with crushed potato chips and topped with melted cheese, canned carrots, tea sweetened with honey, and chocolate bars for dessert. When they were done, Dennis put coals from their fire into 4 small cans and placed them in the corners of their shelter. For the first time since the wreck they had full stomachs and a warm place to sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, she found Dennis sitting on the shore staring at the shipping container. "You know, I think I can get that thing out of the water."
"For what?"
"It would make a lot better shelter than the raft we're using now as well as provide a better place to store our supplies," he replied.
It had taken two long, hard days of preparation to tie the balloons around the container and an even longer third day to inflate them, only to have nothing happen. The weight of the water inside the container combined with the sand around the base held it in place no matter what they tried.
That night they quietly ate dinner and went to bed, depressed and exhausted. Dennis moved to the far side of the shelter and didn't say a word. She laid there quietly for a few moments before saying, "You know that you and I are the only people on this mini-island of ours and there are times when what we need the most can only be given by another person?"
Still he lay there quietly.
Moving swiftly, she stretched out, pressing her body against his. "Like right now. I know you're bummed out about the canister but tomorrow is another day and a fresh start."
He rolled over to look her in the eyes. He opened his arms and she snuggled in, resting her head on his shoulder. That night, another storm hit far out in the ocean so they barely noticed until the following morning when they got up.
The first thing they noticed was that the container was floating much closer to shore, the back end bobbing up and down like a cork. They spent the whole day working together using a pulley system and wooden planks as runners to pull the container up on shore.
Now, looking back over her shoulder, she glanced at the container that had become their home. It all seemed so long ago now. They had quickly fallen into a daily routine; check the stills, check the traps, work on a raft that they started to build and any other projects, such as the rockets that Dennis had built out of the propane canisters.
Standing, she walked back to the fire located near their home and sat down. Dennis emerged from the shadows shortly afterwards.
"Well, I didn't see any type of reply but that doesn't mean somebody didn't see it. I'll wait a couple of days and send up another one."
"Ok," she replied as she continued to look into the flames. Inwardly, she fought a battle that she knew wasn't going to go well while unconsciously rubbing her hand over her lower abdomen.
