Chapter 10

With a bruise that bad, it couldn't be either denied or postponed any longer, I realised when I examined my painful shoulder. At first I decided to call doctor Trent after I had breakfast, then after I watered the crops, and after that I figured I might as well tend my adorable little yellow ball of fuzz too, before I called him. When I at last dialed the number, it took me up to three times to dial it correctly because my nerves took over and my fingers were shaky.

It turned out there wasn't anything to be anxious about. The doctor was a kind man, but with a very busy schedule. If it were up to his agenda, I would only be able to visit over three weeks. Luckily, he offered to treat me on his free evening. If I left with the ferry of five o'clock in the evening, I was certain to make it to Mineral Town in time he had assured me. But I would have to spend the night there, 'just to be sure'. Although he was a kind man, he should be more honest with himself and acknowledge he was just afraid his patients would die by his hands. I quietly wondered if killing someone who is dying is still considered murder as I looked out of the window. The sky was clouded, just like my mind.

Leaning over the railing, I stared into the distance, watching the Sunshine Island slowly disappear at the horizon. Even though I knew I would come back, it was somewhat saddening sight. But the cool evening wind blowing in my face and the refreshing salty air made up for all of it. Not to mention the magnificent sunset.

Apart from me and a few members of the crew, the entire deck was deserted because most passengers were having dinner at that specific moment at the boat's restaurant. I had had dinner at home, before I left because I hadn't thought the boat would be this big. It had a restaurant, which I already mentioned, about twenty-five rooms, both doubles and singles, an enormous storage for all the luggage and a lot of areas of which I didn't know what they were used for. I must have been standing on the deck by myself for about half an hour when I heard heavy footsteps approach me..

"Chels? What are you doing here?" Shocked, I turned around to confirm my suppositions. Standing in front of me was the one and only cowboy I knew, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his silvery hair waving in the wind.

"Eh. Enjoying the view?" I realised I didn't sound as convincing as I had intended, but it couldn't be helped as the nerves took over and my heart pounded against my chest. Perhaps it isn't exactly the right comparison, but I felt as if I had been caught red-handed with my hand in the biscuit tin. Maybe it was just me, or maybe the suspicious look he gave me did the magic.

"Who is taking care of your little chick while you're gone?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I am. I'll be back tomorrow to feed and tend her in time." I narrowed my eyes too. How did he dare to question my devotion? "And if I don't make it in time, Julia will." I was about to say something else in my defence when the strictness slid off his face. I sighed in relief.

"Then it's alright." I blinked surprised and nodded dumbly. "You're headed to Mineral Town, right?" I raised an eyebrow. He kept surprising me today.

"How did you know?" A mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Mineral Town is this the only stop of this boat because it's already such a long ride as it is."

"Oh." He leaned over the railing too now. Every now and then I stole a few glances. I couldn't help it as his eyes were too intriguing to resist. Eventually he spoke up again.

"So what's your business in Mineral Town?" My heart skipped a beat and I panicked. Did he know? No, he couldn't. It was impossible. Impossible-impossible-impossible it echoed in my head. Did I want him to know? It might be comforting to tell someone. Shared hurt hurts less, they say. No. I didn't want him to know. Under no circumstances. No. Just no. I didn't want things to change. Because no matter how you turn it, everything changes when you're dying and I didn't want things to change between us. Not now and not later. I bit my lower lip while he curiously studied my face.

"If you don't want to say, that's okay. It's none of my business anyway." But didn't he have the right to know? One day, he will knock on the door of my farmhouse and realise I am not there anymore. And think I abandoned him. Without ever telling him I would leave. He would feel betrayed and never want to see me again.

Why did it have to be so complicated? I cleared my throat.

Was it complicated at all?

"No, it's okay. You have the right to know. I want you to know." I could've sworn my voice trembled just as much as my suddenly unsteady legs seemed to do. There weren't any words to describe what I felt when I told him. I felt too many things to distinguish which was which. I felt sadness, relief, anxiety, disappointment, confusion and many others. But above all, regret. Yes, I finally told him and I regretted it the moment I did. Perhaps it was because of the look on his face, from which all blood seemed to be drained. His eyes were widened while he merely stared at me. I wanted to say something comforting, but I couldn't think of anything appropriate. 'I'm sorry for dying,' wouldn't do and it was still too early for 'Sorry for your loss'.

"I'm sorry," I eventually said. I could tell he was upset by the way he shouted at me.

"You're sorry? That's all you have to say?" He uttered a dry, void laugh. "When were you really planning to tell me? Who did you think you were fooling?"

Me. I was fooling me, I realised. Without even knowing it.

"When was I supposed to tell you?" I recovered quickly, wondering for a split moment if there had been a better moment. I decided the answer was 'no'. There was never a good time to invite someone to pick a nice card for the funeral.

"I don't know! Sooner! Don't you think this is kind of late, Chelsea?" By this point I was starting to get angry as well. This was one of the hardest things I had ever done, and he was scrutinizing my timing?

"Like when we met? 'Hi, my name is Chelsea, you can consider me dead. Nice meeting you?" I mocked him.

"Any moment would've been right!" A blush of anger started to form itself on his cheeks and under different circumstances I would have thought it was cute. I huffed.

"Like now?" I retorted. He had been about to shout something back at me when he realised I was right. Once more, I felt a pang of regret as his face softened and he looked away.

"I'm going back to my room. Please, Chels. Stay away from me." He turned around and walked away, as if he had been here all by himself and decided to go back inside because it was too cold to stay out. I wanted the time to freeze, so he would stop in his tracks. I would walk over to him, hug him tightly, tell him I was sorry and that I would make everything up to him. But the time didn't freeze and he disappeared out of my sight. Once again I was alone on the deck, the water on my cheeks as salty as the water the ship floated in. (Even though it felt as if it were sinking.)

After the incident on the deck, I didn't leave my room until ten o'clock, when I had to brush my teeth in the bathroom, of which the location was unknown to me. After wandering around for a little less than half an hour, I ended up in the restaurant. It was completely empty, with the exception of the barman. I started to feel rather uncomfortable in my pajamas when the bartender winked at me.

"Could you do me a favor?" he asked, while toweling a glass dry. I hesitated for a moment.

"Um. Sure?" He nodded approvingly.

"Fabulous. You see that man in the corner over there? I saw the two of you together earlier and I think he needs a little help getting back to his room." The barman snickered and I suddenly found him extremely unsympathetic.

"Can't you help him? You seem a lot stronger than I do," I tried to persuade him, regretting I agreed to helping him.

"Sorry, miss. I still got a lot of work to do," he motioned to the enormous staples of plates and glasses behind him. I looked around curiously, only to find out that it was a man with soft looking, silvery hair that needed my help. "I think he's still able to stand so you should be alright," the bartender added.

"He would still be able to walk by himself if you hadn't given him that many drinks," I snapped, before I walked over to my friend. He appeared to have fallen asleep on the table, using his arms as pillow. I carefully shook his shoulder.

"Vaughn? Wake up." He reluctantly opened his eyes and groaned. I couldn't tell if it was because he was drunk and hated waking up, or because he was pissed to see me.

"Do you remember what room number you got, Vaughn?" He lazily raised an eyebrow.

"Your room number." He shook his head slowly. I sighed. Brushing my teeth would have to wait a little longer.

Sorry for the long wait! This chapter really was a bitch to write, not only because I've been really busy, but also because I think it's one of the major chapters in the story. The next chapter may also take a little longer than you're used to, because haven't got a single clue what it's like to be drunk! I think it's a good thing to let it stay like that for a lil' longer, but do any of you guys have a clue?

Also, I want to thank all of you once more for hanging around and raising my spirits with the occasional reviews. :)