Windswept Shores Page 6

  “Oh, my God.” Megan thought she might throw-up, if she didn’t die first.

  In the sudden awful silence after the last motor died, the passengers held their collective breaths, while the wind whistled over the wings. The plane tilted forward, quickly losing altitude as it headed for the ocean below. People screamed and prayed.

  The plunge came to an abrupt end when the plane crashed into the ocean. People were tossed about. Megan was jerked forward then back, slamming into the seat. Water surged up over the windows, while the plane bobbed around like an oversized cork. There was a loud crash when something inside the airplane broke, causing the craft to sink further down. One airline hostess hurried to the nearest emergency exit and started to work the door handle.

  Jonathan unfastened his safety belt, reaching over to Megan to undo hers as well. He jerked her up, hurrying her to the door where the stewardess still wrestled with the handle. “Allow me.” He moved the stewardess to the side, then pulled on the lever. It popped opened, but suddenly water poured into the doorway, drenching their feet.

  The stewardess threw out a yellow square that quickly inflated into a raft. She tied it to the rail. Turning to the cabin, she announced, “Everyone, the baggage compartment has blown and will quickly fill with water. We need to leave now.”

  A hand seized Megan’s back, yanking her up. The next thing she knew, she sailed through the air, only to unceremoniously splash down into the ocean. She popped up, frantically grasping the raft’s side, and scrambled awkwardly onto it. Her high heels were gone, and her nylons slipped around in the wetness. Drenched to the skin, she shivered. Bracing her knees in the middle of the pitching dinghy, she glanced at the aircraft in time to see a large wave surge into the emergency exit which pushed back the knot of people at the opening— including Jonathan and the stewardess.

  “Get out! Get out now!” Megan screamed. Another wave pounded the small craft. “No, no,” she shouted when she saw her husband reach over and untie the raft, “get out of the plane. It’s going to sink. Please, Jonathon! You’ve got to get out.” She sobbed, reaching for him. Several hands reached out, but none were her husband’s. Struggling to grab even one, they slipped from her grasp. The water pushed her small craft, spinning it away. “No.”

  A huge wave engulfed the plane, then a wing sliced the air near her raft. “No. Oh, God, it’s going under.” Self-preservation took over as she flung herself down. When she chanced another glance, nothing showed on the surface but a few suitcases, bobbling on the waves.

  “Gone. Oh, they’re all gone. Jonathan, Jonathan,” she screamed until her voice gave out.

  As the dream faded, she became aware of arms around her. “There there, luv. It’s just a dream. It’s over now; she’ll be apples.”

  What do apples have to do with anything, she thought, clinging to him and wept.

  ~* * *~

  The sun shone through the small port windows, while birds sang unfamiliar songs. Megan heard breathing and a heartbeat under her ear. She realized her head was on someone’s chest. She thought, bemused that’s what lulled me back to sleep last night after my nightmare.

  Seth’s fingers ran a lazy line down her arm, then made a small circle on her fist, before trailing back up again. That feels good. She saw the amused twinkle in his warm gray eyes.

  “G’day, luv,” he greeted her.

  Megan realized three things; that she had a death grip on his shirt, he had been doing that thing with her arm for quite some time, and she wore only a tank-top and panties. She let go to scramble up with her back against the cabin wall. Once there, she hugged her knees. “Why are you calling me that?”

  “What, luv?” He grinned, slipping an arm behind his head, stretched out his long legs crossing at the ankles, which emphasized his flat stomach.

  Megan blushed. He looks good, like something from a calendar. Meet Mr. July.

  “Yes, that.” She pushed the hair from her eyes.

  “We’ve been sharing accommodations, and we woke up in each other’s arms. What else should I call you?”

  “Uh, well, my name would be nice?”

  “Orright, Megz.” He sat, reaching to feel her forehead. “Ya still have a fever. Let me look at yer leg.”

  “Sure.” She scooted down, rolling to her side.

  His big hands were warm and gentle when he gingerly loosened one side of the bandage. He pressed lightly to one side of the wound and puss oozed out. “It’s still infected.”

  “So, time will tell. I’ll either heal or I won’t?”

  Seth lifted his head to give her a long look, and worry etched his features.

  Fear knotted Megan’s stomach. “What?”

  Windswept Shores

  Chapter Nine: Drug Smuggler

  “It’s worse than that, Megz. I don’t want you to go cactus on me like old Bill. You need an antibiotic.” Seth studied her for a minute. “Can you read Mexican?”

  She frowned, wondering why he asked. “Spanish? I took it in school.”

  “Good.” He tugged on his shorts, then tore through the cabin. Seth came back a few minutes later, lugging in two big bags, dropping them on the bed. “I can’t sort through these thingamajigs and tell what’s what.”

  Megan opened one bag, peering inside at the jumbled prescription bottles. “Seth, what are you doing with these? There must be a hundred medications in here.”

  “Bill did a service for some old prawns down at Florida’s retirement condos. He would get a bunch of orders, then head out on the Dinki-Di to old Mexico. It’s bloody amazing. You can go to any pharmacy and buy whatever prescription drug ya want. You just have to have the green backs for it.”

  She furrowed her brow. “How did you fit in?”

  “He got scared up a few times, and thought some baddie were gonna hurt him for the wad he carried. Bill sized me up at the bar where we met. Then he hired me, not just to work on his boat, but for his bodyguard, too.”

  “You are big enough for one.” Megan stole a glance at his large arms and deep chest. “How tall are you, six foot?”

  “Six foot one, luv.” He grinned. “This last trip the bloke had a bunch of goons with him, but they were more than I could handle. So, we lit out a different way and ran for it, thinking the baddie had a boat, too. We motored past Cuba instead of hugging the shoreline, which Bill usually did, then through the cays. We figured we’d go straight back to Florida.”

  “Then you two ran right into a tropical depression?”

  “ Yeah, but then the old twin motors died on us. Bill worked hard to fix them. All I did was hand him tools. But we hit a reef, and I went overboard.” He rubbed his cheek. “I reckon I’m not much of a seaman.”

  “Maybe not, but your stamina from surfing saved your life.” Her gaze went back to the bags. “Seth, do you realize Bill’s a drug smuggler?”

  “No, he did a service.” He shook his head. “The pharmaceutical business is too expensive for average blokes unless yer loaded. Them retired prawns are just too flat to afford it. Bill got ‘em the drugs they needed. Without Bill, they won’t survive on the dough they get.”

  “That’s splitting hairs and you know it. Bill’s a smuggler. You were helping him, so that makes you one, too.”

  “Bill’s a good old bloke, but I won’t argue with you about it.”

  “Especially with the evidence all around us?” She gestured at the big bags lying on the bed.

  “Naw, me dad told me not to argue politics with lunatics, drunks, or women with a mean mad on.”

  “What did he say to do?”

  “Just smile and nod.” He grinned, bobbing his head.

  Megan’s mouth flew open. “Why you—” snatching up a pillow, she smacked him on the on the shoulder, “—Jerk.”

  Seth’s deep chuckle filled the cabin.

  Her mouth twitched at the sound, but she gave in and laughed, too. “What will happen to you if the people on the rescue ships see these?”

  “Then me surfing days
will be over. I will be either run-in or sent home. Me Visa expired. Can yer Spanish find an antibiotic?”

  “I can try.” She pulled out a vial, puzzling at the words. “This one is high blood pressure medicine. I bet there’s a lot in here.” Megan poked at a bag.

  “Here, let’s do this the easy way.” He stood up and dumped out all the bottles on the bed. “Now we can throw back the stuff that ain’t what we want.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “Here, look at this one, then toss in everything with this word on it,” she told him, pointing it out. Soon they got the last of the high blood pressure medicine put away. Then Megan picked up a new one. “Okay, this one’s Viagra. See, it’s spelled just like on the commercials.”

  “What’s Viagra for?” Taking the bottle from her, he looked puzzled.

  “Haven’t you seen the commercials?”

  “Naw, can’t say that I have.” He studied her for a moment, but he must have seen something in her expression, his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Is it for naughties?”

  “You can say that.” Her face heated up.

  “Is it for men’s wedding tackle?”

  “Yeah, for those times when it’s not, uh . . . working.”

  “Not working?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “You know, when a man gets aroused, he get’s . . . um, you know?”

  “Know what?” He grinned.

  “H-hard,” she managed to get out, but felt the heat go down her neck. “This is for when it won’t.”

  “Eh?” Seth stared at the bottle in his h and a moment. “I feel sorry for ‘em poor blokes that have to take this stuff. ‘Not tonight, luv. I’m out of me pills.’ Don’t worry, Megz, I’ve never had that problem.” He tossed the bottle in a bag.

  She arched an eyebrow, but let it pass without a comment. No telling what he’ll say next.

  They soon had the Viagra sorted, much to Megan’s relief. There was an awful lot here; it made her wonder about the old retirees. The air in Florida must be good for them. Maybe I should move my mom there? At least she wouldn’t be lonely, not with all the happy Viagra-taking men around.

  Seth asked, “Doesn’t an antibiotic end in –cillin?”

  “Yes it does, like penicillin or amoxicillin.”

  “Here, take a gander at this one.” He handed a vial to her.

  “Oh, this is for an ear infection. Poor guy, he’s probably still waiting for this with an earache.”

  “What about them poor blokes waiting for their Viagra?”

  “Oh, stop.” She gave his shoulder a shove while Seth’s face lit up with another grin. “I’ll put this one over on the nightstand. We can use it if we can’t find anything better.”

  They soon had the heartburn medicines and the water pills sorted through. Then the cholesterol lowering drugs.

  Megan picked one up as she carefully read it, then read it again. “Seth, I think I found it,” she said, showing it to him.

  He frowned at the vial. “What is it, mate?”

  “This is penicillin, the old standby itself.”

  “Like the ear infection stuff?”

  “Penicillin is a broad spectrum antibiotic. It’ll work,” her voice rose in excitement.

  “Good on ya,” he said, getting up. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “I have to take it with food,” she said, re-reading the label.

  “I’ll find something for brekky, eh?” He walked out the door.

  Scooping up the remaining bottles, Megan dumped them back in the large plastic bag. This is dangerous. Seth made light of it, but what if the rescue ships arrive and see this? As she cleaned up the bed, her stomach clinched. What will happen to Seth, then? Will he go to prison? He did say he might just be sent home. Then she thought about his big arms around her that morning, his easy smile and deep laugh.

  Please, Seth, don’t get into trouble.

  ~* * *~

  Sometime later, Seth walked back in the bedroom. “Here you go, luv, um Megz,” he said, bringing in two plates and two cups in his large hands. “I found powered eggs and some cheese. I made you tea.”

  “It looks good, but I’ve never had powdered eggs before,” she said, accepting her plate, but noticed his was completely covered in ketchup.

  “Its tastes a little off, so I added cheese to yours and sauce to mine.” He set both teas on the end table. “You do like cheese?”

  “Yes, I do.” Megan took a forkful, sniffed it suspiciously, then ate a small bite. “Not too bad, but it does have an odd aftertaste.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Not bad when you’re hungry, but I always am,” Seth commented between mouthfuls.

  “My boys were like that, too,” Megan said, taking another bite. “I had a hard time keeping food in the house.” She picked up her tea and took a sip.

  “Eat you out of house and home, eh?” He grinned.

  “Yeah, they did.” She smiled at the memory. I miss my sons. “Lord help me when they brought home friends.”

  “My mom hated when I was in rugby. I really had an appetite then. Brought home the whole team once, never did it again, and never heard the end of it, either.” He grinned ear to ear.

  “Is your whole team big like you?” she asked, setting down her cup.

  “Naw, mate, some were a mite bigger.”

  She studied him a moment. Is he joking? She realized he wasn’t. “I’d like to see Australia some day.” She smirked.

  “To get a gander at the big men?” he teased.

  “I’d like to see if there are any men bigger than you.”

  After breakfast, Seth went to work on the boat. Megan limped to the bathroom so she could take a sponge bath. Afterwards, she changed into clean clothes from her backpack. Seth must have remembered to bring it in. Before she left, she grabbed the cleanser to give the head a quick going over. If I’m using this bathroom, it better be sanitary.

  When she returned to the bedroom, Megan wrinkled her nose as she gazed at the bed. The sheets have a musty smell. Oh, damn, there’s a bloody spot where Seth worked on my leg. She stripped the sheets off. Searching the overhead compartments, she found a clean set, then struggled to get it on the oddly shaped mattress designed for the inside bow of the boat. Her wound throbbed from the effort.

  Megan braced herself against the wall. She explored the living quarters, which included a bathroom and two bedrooms. The one she had been sleeping in was the largest, and the smallest had bunk beds. She found the kitchenette complete with a petite stove, refrigerator, and diminutive cabinets with locking doors. What a cute kitchen. I could cook some nice meals here. Opening one up, she gazed at the neatly webbed-in cans and boxes of food. Plenty to eat.

  A radio set on the counter. She turned it on, but it didn’t work. Megan turned it off with a resounding click. The microwave didn’t function, either when she tried to warm a cup of water.

  She sighed, gazing at the cups and plates which filled the sink. Just like a man to leave dirty dishes. Megan turned on the small facet, glad to be standing. Washing from a bucket had made her back ache.

  Slowly, she walked out on deck and leaned over the rail to peer down. Seth vigorously sanded the side of the boat. Sunlight rippled across the muscles of his bare shoulders and arms, flexing as he moved. His sunburn had already healed, so his skin was tanned golden brown with sprinkles of freckles. Dust from the boat had turned his hands white.

  This reminds me of the gladiator show on TV, except I live with the star. Oh, Mr. Seth, can I have your autograph? No lady back off, he’s all mine. Oh, God, what am I thinking?

  Seth stopped working. He glanced up and stared right at her. Surprise made his eyes large. “Blimey, Megz, you should be in bed.”

  “It’s hot and stuffy in there. Besides, I got bored,” she told him.

  “I could give ya a job to do?”

  “I already did some work.”

  “Howzat?”

  “I remade the bed and did the dishes.” She didn’t want to tell him the work
had made her leg hurt.

  “If yer feeling that good. Fresh air will probably do ya good.” He climbed up the ladder, stepping onto the boat. “I’ll set out the awning so you can have a spot of shade.”

  Seth tugged out a neatly folded canvas which rested against the cabin. Then he picked-up a high backed chair, setting it in a hole in the floor. “This is for fishing, but it’s comfy enough for a sit down.” He showed her how it reclined and swiveled.

  “Oh, this is nice.” She sat, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”

  “Old Bill didn’t always go on a run to Mexico for the retirees. During the tourist season, he rented out his boat for day fishing. During the off season, he would work up some scheme or other to make money. Everyone called him ‘the Aussie.’ He made his accent real thick for the clients, and they loved it. But I reckon he was a bad influence on me own strine.”

  Megan frowned at him, confused again by his slang. “What does strine mean?”

  “It’s another Aussie-ism for our slang. Now I sound like an outback kid.” He grinned.

  “Outback kid?”

  “Someone raised in the outback has a broad accent. Course, my da was raised out there, so I had it in me to talk that way, much to me mum’s distress. She was rather posh, but it makes me wonder how he ended up with her.”

  “Oh, that’s like a southern drawl. It can sound either genteel or rough.” She pushed the chair with her good leg, spinning it around.

  Seth grabbed it, and gave her a couple of pushes.

  “Whee-ee. Oh, I’m dizzy.”

  He stopped the chair from spinning, then asked, concerned, “Ya gonna chunk?”

  “No, I got lightheaded. Oh-oh.” She covered her mouth, closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

  “It’s them pills.” Seth went inside and came back with an Coke. “Sip on this. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Thank you.” She took a swallow, feeling her stomach ache start to go away. “It wouldn’t do any good to throw-up the antibiotic after we went through so much trouble to find it.”