Windswept Shores Read online

  “It’s okay, luv. It’s already happened.” Seth rubbed her back. Megan was shivering worse than before. When he touched her cheek, she was hot. Oh, bloody hell, I forgot to re-dress her wound and now she’s got a fever. Gawd, Bill, why’d ya have to die? I could have used yer help.

  I don’t want to lose her, too.

  Windswept Shores

  Chapter Seven: Infection

  Rolling onto her back, Megan pushed her hair out of her face. A repetitive pounding echoed against the cliff wall. What is that, a tree limb banging in the wind? No, that sounds like a hammer.

  Then there was a thunk, suddenly someone let out a string of curse words that ended with, “Bloody hell.”

  That has to be Seth.

  Megan struggled to get up, but found her thigh swollen. Damn, it’s infected. Crawling out of the tent, she spotted a tea mug left out for her. Aw, that was thoughtful. She sat next to the camp fire, to stretch her hurt leg to one side. In the sunlight, she examined it again; veins crept-out from under the bandage.

  That can’t be good.

  Picking up her cool tea, she took a sip. Ah, it’s sweet. God, it’s been awhile since I tasted anything sugared.

  “Oy, Megz,” Seth called out. “Ya have a nice beauty sleep?”

  “Yes, I did,” she yelled.

  He jumped off the boat and strolled over to her. Looking at her swollen leg with concern in his eyes, he said, “Yer got an infection, Megz.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “No worries, mate,” he cheerfully told her. “I’ll clean it out proper, by getting out that piece that’s causing the problem.”

  Seth digging around in my thigh? Megan swallowed hard. Oh, dear, he’s got huge hands.

  He gestured to the boat. “I’ll prop the boat up a bit, then I’ll do it there. She’s got all the comforts of home on-board her. Even a generator so we can have the electrical going.”

  “She?” Megan blinked up at him. “You’re referring to the boat as a female?”

  “All boats are sheilas,” he told her. “That one there is the Dinki-Di.”

  “Isn’t that an Aussie term?” she asked, wrinkling up her brow.

  “It means ‘true blue.’”

  “Oh-okay.” Every time I think I get a handle on his slang, he throws me a new one. Her gaze went to the white boat which had just a little light-blue on the trim. “True blue, but it's not even blue?”

  “It’s just an expression, luv. Like I’m a dinki-di, Aussie,” he said, pointing to himself.

  “Okay, so it means the real deal?”

  “That it does, mate. Just rest here, I’ll get you something to eat.” He walked back to the Dinki-Di, then jumped on-board.

  Megan wondered how he could do that without a ladder. Maybe because no one ever told him he couldn’t?

  When Seth returned, he gave her a wrapped sandwich, a bag of barbeque chips, and another Coke. “Reminders of home,” he told her.

  “Thank you.” She unwrapped the sandwich. I wonder what kind it is. It doesn’t smell like tuna or peanut butter. When she bit into it, the smooth texture slid across her tongue, but the salt and bitter yeast taste choked her. “God, Seth, what is that?” She barely managed to swallow it.

  “Vegemite.”

  “That’s not a reminder of home.” Megan shook her head, making a face. “Yuck, that is the vilest thing I have ever tasted.” She drank more Coke to get rid of the lingering bitter flavor.

  Seth took it back from her. “Reminders of my home, not yours. I was raised on this stuff. Brings a tear to me eyes, it does. It’s also chock full of vitamin B, very healthy for growing boys and girls. You don’t mind if I—?” he asked.

  “You give that salty stuff to children?”

  “Ya yanks feed your ankle biters food loaded with sugar.”

  “Er, yeah, but at least it tastes good. All yours.” She ate the chips, savoring the barbeque flavor, while Seth happily scarfed down her sandwich.

  After brunch, Seth re-bandaged her leg. Megan hissed with pain when he touched it. “It’s a might sore?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

  He tossed the bandages in the campfire, then went back to work. Watching him, Megan was surprised at his resourcefulness. A downed tree became a lever, driftwood and rocks braced it up. Slowly, he raised the boat from where it was lying on the sand.

  Confined to the small campsite, Megan felt useless. I can’t help him, or clean-up, or gather any food.

  When Seth brought her canned chili beans, she just barely managed to heat it up for their lunch.

  “Never mind, mate,” he told her when she complained.

  ~* * *~

  It took two days of hard work, from first light till sundown. Finally, the Dinki-Di was level. Seth walked back to their camp, but found Megan curled up in the tent, shaking with fever. She’s only been like this once before and shook it off by morning. His brow furrowed with worry. Am I too late?

  “Megz, it’s finished. Ya can get on-board now.”

  She lifted her head. “Huh?” Dark smudges shadowed her sunken eyes.

  “C'mon out, Megz. I need to get you where I can look after your leg.”

  “’Kay.” She crawled out.

  Seth helped her to her feet. “Luv, I’ve got the boat ready for us.” With an arm around her, he turned her toward the boat.

  “Are the rescue ships here?” A light sparked in her feverish gaze. “Are we going home?”

  Seth frowned at her. “We’re going to my home, Megz.”

  “Oh, good, I’m so tired.”

  “Just a bit further, then you can have a proper lie down.” He half-dragged her to the boat. She seemed to rouse a little on the way there.

  She threw her head back, staring up at the driftwood ladder. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t walk. How do you expect me to climb?”

  “I’ll go up with you. Take a step, Megz.” I should have made this ladder wider.

  “I can’t. My leg hurts.”

  “Ya can do it.”

  She stepped up with her good leg as he took the step with his feet on either side of hers.

  “C'mon, Megz, take another one.”

  “I . . . can’t.” Megan sobbed, going limp. She would have fallen if Seth wasn’t right behind her.

  “Stop mucking around and do it.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her to the next step. She gasped when her weight came down on her hurt leg. “Quickly, the next one,” Seth ordered, but hated himself for bullying her.

  Megan climbed faster, pulling with her arms. He lifted and stepped up with her. She moaned with pain, but didn’t cry out.

  That’s got to be progress. “C'mon, Megz, you can do it. Take another step.”

  By the time they made it to the top, Megan trembled uncontrollably. She threw her good leg over the rail, struggling to the deck. Once there, she clung to the side breathing hard.

  Seth gave her a few minutes to catch her breath. “C'mon, luv, it’s not much further now.” Poor mite. She can’t go another step. He picked her up and ducked, turning sideways to enter the cabin’s doorway. Walking through the main part of the boat, he laid her down on the captain’s bed.

  He located the first aid kit, and felt lucky finding medical supplies still in a sterilized-sealed container. Good thing Bill stocked his boat well in case of emergencies. Seth washed his hands in the small bathroom sink, then went back to the cabin.

  Megan had dozed off, but awakened when he tied her ankles to the side rail with a sock.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded with a glare.

  “I don’t want you kicking me when I dig that log out of yer leg,” he told her in what he hoped was a reasonable tone.

  “Oh, no, you’re not! Take it off!” she shouted. “You’re not going to do some kinky, weird stuff to me while I’m hurt.” She reached for the knot, but he stopped her, calmly pushing her back.

  “I’m no
t going to do anything weird.” Seth sat on the bedside with an arm over her, gently leaning down. “I’m saving that for later when yer all better.” His face almost touched hers, forcing her to recline. “Then we can enjoy doing the weird arse stuff together.”

  “Your arrogance is truly amazing. Are you in love with yourself or just the mirror? Now take it off,” she snapped.

  “I’m not. Better brace yourself.”

  “Why?”

  He stood, looking at her leg. “Because . . . this might hurt a bit.” Then he yanked the double bandages off.

  “Ouch! Damn your Aussie hide!”

  “Its Aussie arse, woman! Get it right,” he corrected, but hoped she’d stay mad. Then this won’t hurt so much. He turned his attention to her wound. “Brace yourself,” he told her again. This time she grabbed the mattress’s edge. Seth set his palms to either side of the injury, pressing down. Pus oozed out, but no wood. He grabbed some gauze to wipe away the resulting mess. Glancing at Megan’s blanched face, he asked, “Ya orright, Megz?”

  “No.” She shook, wiping away a tear. “Best get it over with.”

  “That’s me girl.” Opening the surgical tools, he laid them out on a folded bit of gauze, then went to work. Inserting a scalpel into the wound, he probed, trying to feel for the wood he knew was in there. “Do you feel like I’m hitting it?”

  “It’s deeper than that.”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, it’s not too bad,” she told him, flinching. “Ow.”

  “I think I found it.”

  “Either that, or my thigh bone,” she said through clinched teeth.

  “I’m not that deep, am I?” He tried to move it, but it wouldn’t budge. “Hang on a tick.” Setting down the scalpel, he picked up a pair of long tweezers, putting them in the wound. He opened and closed them several times. Finally he pulled out something shiny black, with a gush of bloody pus.

  “Are you done?” Megan shuddered.

  “That’s got it.” He showed it to her, then set it down on the gauze. Picking up a small squeeze bottle with a long narrow tip, he irrigated the wound with alcohol.

  “Shit, that hurts,” she gasped out.

  “Sorry, luv, but it’s got to be done. I’m making sure all the bits are out,” he told her.

  “Yeah, but your killing me,” she complained. “O-ouch!”

  “She’ll be orright now.” Seth pulled out a large gauze roll and tape, bandaging the wound, then untied her ankles. He gave her a water glass and two pills.

  “What’s this?” She stared at the pills in her palm.

  “Nothing but aspirin,” he lied, pocketing the prescription bottle.

  She took the pills with a sip of water. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  “It’s called the head on ship.” He helped her up so he could guide her to the door.

  “Yeah, sure, some man must have named it.” She opened the door, peering inside. “Oh, goody, a bathroom shared by two guys. I wonder what delightful smells you men created?” She held her breath and staggered inside.

  A few minutes later, Megan stepped back out of the door from the head, and leaned against the wall. “Seth, that wasn’t aspirin.”

  He took her arm to lead her back to bed. “What do ya reckon it was?”

  “Don’t know, but it’s making me dizzy.”

  “Best hit the sack then,” he told her. Good, she’ll sleep like a babe.

  She didn’t complain when he unfastened her bra and helped to take off her shorts.

  “Waz this?” He ran his hand over a scar that went across her belly, just above her panties. “It’s still pink and new.”

  Megan flinched at his touch. “It’s from a tummy tuck.” After pulling off her bra, she lowered her tank top, covering the scar.

  He frowned at her a moment, then asked, “What was wrong with your old tummy, that ya needed it tucked?”

  “I had two big boys close together.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “That does something to your tummy.”

  “Course it does. Only a drongo wouldn’t reckon that.” Yanks, God luv ‘em. They think a pill or surgery will put everything to rights.

  “Tell that to my husband,” she muttered. “He thought I looked terrible naked. I not only had a tummy tuck, but my breasts lifted, lipo here and there, my face was also lasered. He’s going to hate my new scar on my leg when that hole heals up.”

  Pulling the vial from his pocket, Seth stuck it in a drawer. Taking off his shorts, he lay next to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “You’ll get better now. When I patch the boat we’ll get the bloody hell out of this place. Should I meet your bloke, if he’s not drowned himself, I’ll knock him on his arse.”

  “Un-huh.” Her breathing deepened as her shoulders slumped.

  Seth ground his teeth. What was wrong with her husband, that he couldn’t appreciate a fine woman like Megz?

  Windswept Shores

  Chapter Eight: Nightmare

  The drugs took Megan down too far to fight out of her nightmare, and it began again the same as always.

  Jonathan patted her hand. “Are you nervous, dear?”

  “A little.” Megan smoothed down her skirt. “It would be nice if I had a window.” She leaned forward to peer past her neighbor at the view of dark storm clouds, but couldn’t see the ocean below.

  “Statistics show that survivors of airplane crashes are typically the ones on the isle seats, not the window,” he quoted to her.

  “I had to marry an insurance data analyst.” She sighed with a glance at him. He was dressed in a brown suit with a black and brown striped tie. It went very nicely with his black hair and Hershey’s chocolate brown eyes.

  “Still, you’ll be glad we survive if the plane goes down.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She heard an odd noise behind her. When she looked back, the newlyweds were making out again. God, save it for your honeymoon, you two!

  Jonathan rubbed his stomach. “Did you remember to pack the motion sickness pills?”

  “You’re air sick?” Pulling out her purse, she hunted for the amber-colored vial. “You should have taken them before we left the hotel.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I told you, but you never listen to me.” She poured two pills into his hand.

  “Nag, nag, nag.” He tossed the pills down with a sip of his drink.

  “This isn’t a very auspicious beginning for our second honeymoon.” Meg slipped the vial back into her purse.

  “No it isn’t.” He threw her a sideways glance. “Remember what the marriage counselor said, ‘Don’t be negative. Relax and enjoy your time together.’”

  “Easier said than done.” Megan sighed, looking around the cabin at the chairs and backs of people’s heads. I wish I had a window. What I wouldn’t give for a view. “I don’t want to wonder about you-know-who.”

  “Relax. She’s not here,” he said tightly.

  “Did you get rid of her pictures?”

  “What are you going on about?” Jonathan frowned.

  “Even the counselor said we can’t move forward until you let her go,” she snidely replied.

  “He said we can’t move forward until you let it go.”

  “That, too,” she agreed.

  “So?”

  “So, did you get rid of her pictures?” she asked.

  “Of course I did,” he snapped.

  “Let me see your cell phone.”

  “You want to make a call?”

  “Don’t be dense.” She held out her hand. “Let me see your phone.”

  “I don’t see what my cell phone has to do with anything.”

  “Then why are you getting mad? If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about?”

  “Fine.” He slapped the phone into her palm.

  “Thank you.” Megan quickly clicked to the photo page, only to give a disgusted noise at what she found. She shoved the phone in his face. “Get. Rid. Of. It.”

  “I, uh, for
got about that one.” His gaze darted around, but he didn’t look at the picture.

  “Sure you did.” She glared at him. “Now delete it while I watch.”

  “All right.” He hit a button on his phone.

  “Very good.” She studied him. “I don’t understand why you do these things. I would never cheat on you. Ever.”

  “You would if you had the chance.” He jammed the cell phone into his inside jacket pocket.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You think I’m shallow?”

  “Anyone would, if they thought they might not get caught.”

  “Not me,” she told him firmly. “So, what are your statistics on people not getting caught? Do you have the probability on that all figured out?”

  “Um, no, I don’t but still—”

  Then the bottom fell out from under them, as the plane suddenly plunged like an out-of-control freight elevator. A man hit the ceiling. Several people screamed before the plane leveled out.

  “Attention, all passengers,” said the voice from the speakers. “This is the captain speaking. We are experiencing some air turbulence. It’s nothing to be concerned about. Please return to your seats and fasten your safety belts.”

  The seat belt light illuminated. A female flight attendant helped the hurt man to his seat. The other two attendants made the rounds, making sure all passengers were strapped in, before sitting and doing the same.

  The plane shuddered again. Megan leaned forward past her neighbor, gazing out the window, she saw a light show dancing over the wing. “Jonathan, what’s that?”

  “Saint Elmo’s fire,” he said in her ear. “It’s nothing. Happens all the time when a plane goes through the turbulence of a storm.”

  The lightning jumped from the wing to the motor, causing smoke to pour out. “Normal my butt!” She gripped the armrests, her carefully manicured nails embedding in the cushion.

  Someone yelled, “We’re all going to die!”

  The motor on the opposite wing roared when it took the weight of the airplane. Megan leaned forward and saw through a window to the other side of the plane. The light show did its dance along that wing, quickly jumping to the motor. It whined and sputtered as smoke came from the motor housing.