~ Sara's Soul ~

by

Kay Layton Sisk

“I don’t suppose you hid your cell phone in all that baggage?”

“As a matter-of-fact, I did.” She rose halfway and pulled the camera bag over to her, rummaged in the bottom of it, and produced Fletch’s phone. Smirking at him, she pushed the ‘on’ button and together they watched it spring into life. The display screen showed the words ‘no service.’

“What kind of nonsense is that--no service?” She looked at Tib as she circled with the phone in her hand, trying to pick up a signal.

He pursed his lips and studied the sky. “I guess we’re between the Texas towers and the Oklahoma ones. There are dead spots around. Leave it to Fletch not to equip you with a satellite phone.”

She narrowed her gaze on him and defiantly turned off the phone. “So, where’s the lawman’s ever-present radio?”

He shook his head. “Back with his good sense in the car at the studio.”

“Well, we’re a fine pair, aren’t we?”

“We’re a stranded pair is what we are.”

“Can we build a fire?”

“Cold? Get the blanket or the jacket.” He nodded toward the boat’s interior.

“I was thinking for a beacon.”

“Then we could take turns standing in front of it and shooting out Morse code?”

“You know, your job here ever dries up, you could always try comedy.”

“Think I’d have a shot?”

“I think you could get shot.”

She brushed at her Capri’s. “These are ruined. You have any idea what they cost?”

“Do you expect reimbursement for an act of God?”

She bent from her waist and balanced her palms on her knees. “When we get picked up, there’d better be gas in that tank!”

A slow smile drifted across his features. “If you think my idea of a good night’s rest is trading barbs with you by the light of the moon, you are crazy.” He stood and looked around. “Pick your piece of sand, Sara Charlotte. We’re bedding down.”

She winced at the use of names but stood her ground. “You’re not going to build a fire?”

“No.” He took the flashlight and swept the area from which they’d taped. Picking up two rocks, he tossed them higher on the beach and evened the sand out with the side of his boot. Satisfied, he sat down and started to peel off his footwear.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed.” He set the pair of soggy roughened cowboy boots beside himself and swished sand from his hands. “Hand me the blanket, will you? You want us to use it for a mattress or a quilt?”

“What’s the ‘us’?”

“You and me.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Suit yourself. You can stay up and edit the video of the eclipse for all I care.” He popped to his feet and reached into the boat for the blanket, jacket, and life vests. Going back to his spot of sand, he spread the blanket, made the life vests into two pillows, and lay down. The jacket he left for her. “In case you get cold.”

“Why are we not signaling with the flashlight?”

“Go for it.” He scooted deeper into the blanket and stretched his toes, popped his back. “But it’s not even midnight and if something goes bump in the night and you’ve already spent the battery...”

“You are impossible.” She took the flashlight and beamed it up the sand toward some sparse trees. “I don’t suppose there are any facilities on this island.”

“Like a little girls’ room?”

“Like any kind of little room.”

“Find a tree. Find a potty.”

She shone the light on a likely prospect. “I’m taking the light and going behind that tree.”

He waved her off. She was halfway there when his voice called, “Watch out for snakes.”

She pivoted. “Isn’t it too early for snakes?”

“Nah, snakes stay up all night.” He laughed at his own joke.

“You’re a damn national treasure, you know that?”

She didn’t wait for whatever answer might be forthcoming. Stumbling over the exposed roots, she laid the flashlight down while she unzipped her Capri’s. Realizing that nothing could be more stupid than leaving it on and herself exposed, she shut it off.

Tib muffled his laughter into the blanket. He had no idea what was wrong with the motor beyond his first guess, but if he’d thought she was capable of it, he’d have tied sabotage to Bertie’s name. However, she hadn’t had time, nor was she a competent enough mechanic to fix it to start twice but not three times. He really wasn’t trying to bedevil SC, but he doubted it looked that way to her. As to a fire, sure he could start one, but why? With all the extra lake traffic for the Regatta, someone would see them shortly and they’d get a tow home. Or, they could sit up and talk, but he didn’t know if he wanted any more revelations. His appease-her attitude had slipped back into one of verbal sparring. She seemed more comfortable on this level, and he certainly knew all the rules to it.

He heard her coming back, saw the light swaying, picked up on a muttered curse as she turned her foot in the sandals.

“Take those shoes off!” he said as she stood beside the blanket.

“I might step on something!”

“So break your ankle. Don’t come to me for sympathy.” He closed his eyes to a slit and scooted his body to make his nest.

“I don’t think you have a sympathetic bone in your body.” She turned to face the water and waved the flashlight in large arcs.

“That’s the international symbol for ‘stay away, I’m getting it on with my baby.’” He couldn’t help himself; it was all he could do not to burst into laughter as she snapped off the flashlight.

“It is not!”

“You sure shut it off fast enough.” He didn’t try to contain his laughter and curled on his side with it.

“Tib Wilson!” She stomped her foot.

Sand flew into his mouth and he sat up coughing. “Not nith, Thara Tharlotte.”

“SC!”

“Well, I expecth it of Eth Thee. Thara,” he coughed “Tharlotte is a lady and knows betther.”

“You are so full of it!” She swiveled and started the arcs again.

“I don’t thuppose you have any water in those bags either.”

“I was totally unprepared. My guide said to get my gear and I did.”

“Fair enough.” He coughed again. “I’ll thurvive.”

“There’s water not ten feet from you. A whole lake full.”

“True. And I do drink it everyday. After it’s been treated.”

She chanced a glance down at him. He sat with his arms propped on his knees and acted like a cat trying to get a whisker out of its mouth. “I didn’t mean to put sand in your mouth.”

“I know.”

“I’ll try to hook up to the Internet again. If I can get a signal, I can link to a live site and they’ll call someone for us.”

“Go for it.”

She picked up the laptop and brought it back to the blanket. Sitting down beside him, she opened it and started the procedure again. The light from the screen shone on her face and he watched her. On the third try, she smiled, “Got it! Linking, who do you want them to call--” her face fell “--it’s gone again.”

She closed it and sighed. “We’re stuck.”

“We’re stuck.”

She put the laptop back in the boat and returned to the blanket, picking up the jacket and running her arms into the sleeves. Her fingertips showed just below the cuffs.

“You’re not going to finish the eclipse?”

“I don’t care if the moon ever shines again!”

“What about if there’s ever any more moonshine?”

“Don’t quit your day job if you take up comedy.” Getting on her knees, she leaned over where he’d lain back down and closed his eyes. “I know you’re not asleep yet, cowboy. Scoot over, you’re on my side the bed.”