Joe groaned and threw his left hand over to the alarm clock, missing and knocking his watch off the nightstand. "Grr," he growled, sitting up and flipping the switch on the back of the clock to stop the annoying ring.
Joe bent down and picked up his watch, checking the time against the alarm clock. He set the watch back on the nightstand and stood up. Stretching, he looked around to see if Frank had returned. Not seeing him, or any sign that he had returned, Joe picked his clothes from the chair on which he had placed them the previous evening, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.
When Joe exited the bathroom dressed in denim shorts and a pristine white tee which flattered his sun-bronzed skin, Frank still hadn't returned. Joe went to the nightstand and put on his watch. He made his way to the kitchen where a strong, pleasant aroma was concentrated.
"Good morning, Joesph," greeted Marla Duvalier, the plump wife of Dr. Galen Duvalier, and one of his hosts.
"Hi," Joe returned the salutation. "Breakfast smells wonderful," he added, the cuisine being his favorite part of the vacation.
"Oh, you," Mrs. Duvalier said, coyily turning away from Joe's blatant flirtatious grin.
"Where's your brother?" asked Mr. Hardy, a man whose features Frank's would reflect in twenty years time.
"He went for a walk earlier," Joe said, a frown coming on his face. "He should have been back by now."
"Sit down and have breakfast," Mrs. Duvalier instructed. "Galen will help you look for him if he hasn't returned by the time you finish."
"Um," Joe shook his head. "I can't," he said. "I've got to find Frank first."
"Don't go too far," Mr. Hardy said, knowing Joe didn't feel like eating with his brother missing. "He may have strayed from the path and gotten lost. If you don't see him, come back here and Galen and I will help you look for him."
"Will do," Joe agreed, leaving by the kitchen door.
Joe headed down the path Frank had taken, his tracks visible on the sandy turf. "Frank!" Joe shouted as he strode along.
Nothing save the sounds of the insects could be heard. Joe became more worried as he walked along. Frank's footprints still led the way, but Joe knew Frank would have been at the house earlier had something not happened.
Frank was the most dependable person he knew. If they didn't leave on time, they might miss their plane and that would create a problem since there was only one US flight a week to or from the island. Frank would never be late by choice.
"Frank!" Joe shouted again, coming to the base of the mountain as Frank had earlier. Joe looked around for several minutes before spotting Frank's tracks along a different path leading back toward the house.
Joe followed the tracks, noticing where they made a turn into the brush. He stepped from the path and saw Frank's tracks stop just a foot or so inside a clearing.. Perhaps Frank had heard an animal in the brush and went to see. Joe could see no other tracks save Frank's in the small clearing.
He backed up and followed Frank's tracks further. "Frank!" he shouted yet again, as he grew nearer the house.
Joe felt relief wash over him as the house came into view through the trees. He must have just missed Frank. Joe gave a small laugh, knowing Frank was going to tease him about his jumping the gun because he had been a few moments late for breakfast. Frank was the worrier in the family, not Joe.
Joe picked up his pace, in a hurry now to get back to the house and have his own breakfast. No longer looking down, Joe's foot hit something lying on the path and he fell forward.
Joe looked back and gasped. He quickly moved to a sitting position and reached for the wrist of the one person who meant everything to him.
There was no pulse. Joe reached a trembling hand to feel for a pulse in Frank's neck. "No," he whispered, leaning over to listen for a heartbeat. "No, no no," Joe said repeatedly. Joe laid his head on his brother's chest, his tears flowing freely, as Frank's once soulful brown eyes stared up at the sky in seemingly silent disregard.
Joe bent down and picked up his watch, checking the time against the alarm clock. He set the watch back on the nightstand and stood up. Stretching, he looked around to see if Frank had returned. Not seeing him, or any sign that he had returned, Joe picked his clothes from the chair on which he had placed them the previous evening, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.
When Joe exited the bathroom dressed in denim shorts and a pristine white tee which flattered his sun-bronzed skin, Frank still hadn't returned. Joe went to the nightstand and put on his watch. He made his way to the kitchen where a strong, pleasant aroma was concentrated.
"Good morning, Joesph," greeted Marla Duvalier, the plump wife of Dr. Galen Duvalier, and one of his hosts.
"Hi," Joe returned the salutation. "Breakfast smells wonderful," he added, the cuisine being his favorite part of the vacation.
"Oh, you," Mrs. Duvalier said, coyily turning away from Joe's blatant flirtatious grin.
"Where's your brother?" asked Mr. Hardy, a man whose features Frank's would reflect in twenty years time.
"He went for a walk earlier," Joe said, a frown coming on his face. "He should have been back by now."
"Sit down and have breakfast," Mrs. Duvalier instructed. "Galen will help you look for him if he hasn't returned by the time you finish."
"Um," Joe shook his head. "I can't," he said. "I've got to find Frank first."
"Don't go too far," Mr. Hardy said, knowing Joe didn't feel like eating with his brother missing. "He may have strayed from the path and gotten lost. If you don't see him, come back here and Galen and I will help you look for him."
"Will do," Joe agreed, leaving by the kitchen door.
Joe headed down the path Frank had taken, his tracks visible on the sandy turf. "Frank!" Joe shouted as he strode along.
Nothing save the sounds of the insects could be heard. Joe became more worried as he walked along. Frank's footprints still led the way, but Joe knew Frank would have been at the house earlier had something not happened.
Frank was the most dependable person he knew. If they didn't leave on time, they might miss their plane and that would create a problem since there was only one US flight a week to or from the island. Frank would never be late by choice.
"Frank!" Joe shouted again, coming to the base of the mountain as Frank had earlier. Joe looked around for several minutes before spotting Frank's tracks along a different path leading back toward the house.
Joe followed the tracks, noticing where they made a turn into the brush. He stepped from the path and saw Frank's tracks stop just a foot or so inside a clearing.. Perhaps Frank had heard an animal in the brush and went to see. Joe could see no other tracks save Frank's in the small clearing.
He backed up and followed Frank's tracks further. "Frank!" he shouted yet again, as he grew nearer the house.
Joe felt relief wash over him as the house came into view through the trees. He must have just missed Frank. Joe gave a small laugh, knowing Frank was going to tease him about his jumping the gun because he had been a few moments late for breakfast. Frank was the worrier in the family, not Joe.
Joe picked up his pace, in a hurry now to get back to the house and have his own breakfast. No longer looking down, Joe's foot hit something lying on the path and he fell forward.
Joe looked back and gasped. He quickly moved to a sitting position and reached for the wrist of the one person who meant everything to him.
There was no pulse. Joe reached a trembling hand to feel for a pulse in Frank's neck. "No," he whispered, leaning over to listen for a heartbeat. "No, no no," Joe said repeatedly. Joe laid his head on his brother's chest, his tears flowing freely, as Frank's once soulful brown eyes stared up at the sky in seemingly silent disregard.