A/N: Alright, taking a break from hitting my head against the wall. Er, oops, that was supposed to read taking a break from my NaNo novel. My mistake! So here's my one update for this month. I will atone next month, promise. Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, favorites, 'I miss this' PM's and comments, etc. I'm honored by all the positive attention this fic is getting. I read each & every review multiple times. A huge thank you to my wonderful, patient beta, cainc3! Enjoy!
Obligatory disclaimer: I still don't anything from the VM 'verse or any other pop-culturey thing mentioned in this chapter!
Chapter 16—Jet Planes
On paper, or more accurate, in Mac's head, parking the Caddy on Colony Place, across the street from the Mackenzie house—her old house—seemed like a good idea. In reality, it felt kind of stalker-ish. Which, she supposed was appropriate, since technically that's what she was doing.
She was supposed to be packing; they were flying out first thing the next morning, on a private jet "owned" by Sinclair Enterprises. That was really just tax-speak, which roughly translated into her bio-parents had their own private airplane.
She had left the house under the pretense of running last minute errands. The urge to see her parents and Ryan again proved too great to pass up.
She'd been there almost ten minutes and nothing was happening. It was starting to seem like a waste of time. She had her hand poised on the key and was about to turn it, when a movement out of the corner of her field of vision fractured her focus. She dropped her hand, and turned her head. Ryan was walking out the front door; then he paused, shouting something back into the house before letting it slam.
Curiosity piqued, Mac put her hand back on the key, turning the car on just long enough to engage the power windows. She was still at a good distance, so the acoustics weren't optimum, but it did make it much easier to hear what came next.
The door opened back up and out spilled a very angry sounding Madison ('Cindy'). She stood on the stoop, hands on her hips.
"Yeah, just run away, you little chickenshit. Mom is still going to ground you when you get back." She was shouting.
"You and your threats don't scare me, Cindy." Ryan had paused at the end of the driveway, and was now facing the house, his posture matching that of his 'sister's.'
"They should," 'Cindy' screamed back, her voice sounded menacing to Mac, even from that distance. "And they're not threats, they're promises."
Just then Mac saw the door open again, and her mom came outside, too, pushing 'Cindy' aside. "What is going on? What kind of show are you two putting on for the neighbors?" She had her hands on her hips, not a good sign, she knew that first hand. She was too far away to see her mom's expression, but she didn't need to, she'd been a recipient of enough sternly worded lectures to conjure up the correct image; pursed lips, and narrowed eyes.
Both Ryan and 'Cindy' spoke together, cancelling each other out. Mac was closer geographically to Ryan but both complaints got lost. Evidently her mom heard them though; she threw her hands up in the air.
Mac couldn't hear what her mom said, but it ended with Ryan walking off, heading across the street, right towards the Cadillac. He walked right in front of the car, but didn't even look her way. She lifted her hand automatically anyway in greeting. He was heading with a purpose to Zane's front door, and into the sanctuary of his best friend.
'Cindy', evidently, was instructed to go inside, because she spun on her heel and shook her head, obviously annoyed.
"Don't you dare slam the door—" Mac could hear her mom yelling, the rest of the sentence was drowned out by yet another bang of the heavy door.
Nat stomped a foot, and then, looking dejected, flopped down on the stoop. She didn't break down crying, or any rookie mom move like that, but Mac recognized it for what it was, a cooling off period.
It felt really strange being on the outside looking in on that, instead of one half of the causation.
Mac reached over and grabbed the door handle. The little voice inside her was telling her not to do it, it was a bad idea, she hit the snooze button on her inner voice and got out of the car.
She crossed the street, and went up the driveway to what was, at one time, her house. Her mom was just sitting there, staring off in to space. As she walked up the steep driveway and got closer, she could tell the exact moment her mom noticed her. There never was a flicker of recognition though. She looked for it, prayed for it, but there wasn't anything she could even spin as a positive sign. Logically, she knew it would be that way, but thinking logically in this situation didn't mesh real well. She stood in front of her mom, within touching distance, for the first time in almost 2 months.
"Can I help you?"
"Um, I hope so. Sorry to bother you, but I've been driving around, trying to find my cat, Fritz. He's black and white. Have you seen him?" It was obviously a lie, Fritz had already been dropped off at the pet resort, not a vet's office, but an actual 'roll out the red carpet,' serve tuna tartare from crystal bowls, So-Cal style pet hotel. In short, his stay promised to be more luxe than camping Mackenzie style ever was.
Mac hovered in front of her mom, twisting her hands and tapping a foot. She just wanted to throw herself at Nat and bury her head and cry. Maybe if she kept moving she could tamp down that overriding desire.
"No, hon, I'm sorry, I haven't seen a cat around here. Well, that's not true, I saw Morris earlier, but he belongs to Ryan's friend, Zane. He's a big orange tabby, cute, but not the most original name, if you ask me. No one did, however."
She listened to her mom prattle on about Morris, and then it meandered on to cats in general before she reined it in.
"You don't need to hear the life story of Morris-the-cat, not when you have your own to look for," she concluded. "Where do you live?" She patted the stoop beside her, an invitation to sit down.
It was a lot harder question to answer than it should have been. Mac grumbled out that she lived in another neighborhood, but didn't offer specifics, not wanting to reveal her '09'er status because that would underscore the holes in her harmless little cover story.
Not wanting to be rude, Mac sat down next to her "mom," sitting on her hands to keep from touching the woman who could never truly be a stranger to her. She expected to get a whiff of Lavender Fields, the perfume that was Nat's signature scent, but instead she smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. She only had a very vague recollection of her mom ever smoking in real life, she'd been pretty young when her mom quit.
"What made you look here?" Her mom asked, green eyes boring into her intently, as though she cared about what Mac had to say. In her other life, that definitely would have been the case.
You! Mac thought, but didn't utter. I wanted to see you. "Well, he's not in my neighborhood, so he had to go somewhere," she said instead.
"Indeed. Very wise." Nat continued to study Mac. "You look familiar. Have we met?"
This was what Mac had been needing to hear, but she feared the context was all wrong.
"I don't think so. I…" Mac didn't get a chance to finish though, she was interrupted by the
door opening and Madison stomping out.
"Mom," she began in her whiny voice, and then stopped, her mouth in an O of surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Uh, I'm just…"
"Cindy! Don't be rude! Her cat is missing. I take it you two know each other?"
"Unfortunately."
"I go to school with Mad, er Mac, um Cindy," Mac stammered out. She snuck a quick peek at the glowering blond then looked back down at the ground.
"Ah, that's probably where I've seen you," Nat said, she nodded her head.
"I'm Madison," Mac said.
At that Natalie did some more mental dot connecting, and internally tacked on "Sinclair," to her name. Mac could see it in her expression. Guilt weighted her down. It also shuttered down the open, welcoming smile that had always been her mom's default setting.
"Well, I need to continue looking for Fritz. Thank you for your help," Mac said, pulling herself up. She forced down the urge to run back to her car, settling for a fast paced walk.
She gave a slight wave in acknowledgement of her mom's stuttered "good luck" shouted out to her retreating back, but she didn't look back. Honestly, she didn't think she could bear it.
Back in the safe-zone of her car, Mac allowed herself the liberty of a few tears on the drive back, but refused to give into the big wracking sobs that fought for release.
*****The next day, Neptune Regional Airport****
Ducking slightly, though the doorway was taller than she was, Mac walked into the cool gray marble and black leather interior of Sinclair Enterprise's privately-owned Gulfstream jet. She made her way to a recliner in the very back of the cabin. She laid her laptop case on the floor beside her, and then plopped down into the comfortable seat and strapped on the seatbelt.
She had already surrendered her luggage to a steward who had met them in the lobby for pre-flight prep.
Lauren took the seat beside her, and proceeded to buckle herself in. "Just think Madi, when we land, in what, I think like eight hours, we'll be on an island in the middle of the ocean."
"Just think, Lauren, we live less than ten minutes from the ocean, and we don't even have to fly to get there."
"Yes, but this is a different ocean."
"Last I checked, all oceans were pretty much the same, you've seen one, and you've seen them all. Salt water, waves, sharks, jellyfish, coral reefs, etc," Mac snarked, then asked seriously, "where are we going, anyway?"
"Turks and Caicos, dear," 'Mom2' piped up. She and 'Dad2' were up front on the love seat caddy corner from Mac's chair. "I'm pretty sure I mentioned it, Madi."
"You probably did, Mom, I just forgot, that's all." Mac said. It was probably a remnant from her old life; she never knew what campground or national park she was being dragged to until she got there.
The self-diagnosis she arrived at was chosen amnesia.
Just then the captain, who Mac assumed was a contract employee with Sinclair Enterprises, came on the speaker to let them know they'd be taking off in a few minutes. As they waited she studied the opulent interior of the small plane.
Truthfully, she was a little nervous; this was her first flight ever.
For all the vacations she'd taken in her 'real life' they were always to locations that were drivable, up to and including the hellious Mackenzie Family cross-country adventure of '02. They packed up the camper and did a tour of KOA campgrounds in 23 of the 50 states. If the traditional camping jaunts her family took twice a year were tortuous, this was cruel and unusual punishment of epic proportion. It was thirty days of horror. The only semi-bright spot was the stop-over in Disney World and Epcot Center, and even that was mainly just a dull luster.
The camper had its fair share of battle scars, including a couple scratches earned on that roadtrip adventure. The biggest ding was caused by her dad backing into a pole.
Mac was so caught up in her reminiscing that she didn't realize the plane was moving until they were taxing down the runaway. As she realized they were gaining speed, Mac gripped the arm rests of her seat, leaned her head back and clinched her eyes. She was back in her reality with a jarring thud, all thoughts about camping vacations were crowded out, the only thought in her head was the mantra, please don't crash.
Her all-encompassing fear must have been broadcast clearly on her face, and by the death-grip she had on the arm rests, because Lauren's concerned tone cut through her prayers.
"Madi, are you okay? Are you sick?"
"What?" Mac asked, confused. It came out as a groan though because right as she asked they lifted up, and the wheels were no longer on solid ground. She didn't dare sneak a peek from the window, she knew for a fact that to do that would lead to reliving her breakfast from earlier that morning.
"You usually love flying, but you look like you're about to throw up."
"That's a distinct possibility," Mac muttered.
"Mom," Lauren shouted.
"Yes, dear?" 'Mom 2' replied, quieter and less urgently.
"I think Madison's sick."
By then they had started to level off but Mac still felt queasy, however it was easing up a little bit. She kept her eyes closed.
A cool hand reached out to stroke her forehead. "Mad, dear, does your stomach hurt? You don't have a fever."
She opened her eyes to see 'Mom2' kneeling besides her chair, looking a little anxious. She didn't think getting out of the seat so soon after take-off was allowed, but then evidently owning the plane made it easier to rebel.
"A little bit, I'm feeling better though." She tried to reassure her mom and Lauren.
"I'll have Joyce bring you some water," Ellen continued. "I thought you liked flying."
If her stomach wasn't still roiling she probably would've laughed at that statement. Mac was starting to figure she wasn't much of an aviator in any life, instead she just mumbled about how she must have eaten breakfast too fast, or something.
'Mom2' went back to her seat, but true to her word, a tall blond woman in a purple Sinclair Enterprises polo shirt with a name tag that read Joyce came by a couple minutes later with a bottle of water. Mac snickered internally at the personalized label on the water, it also read Sinclair Enterprises.
"Thanks," Mac said, mustering just enough energy for a watery smile.
The woman nodded politely and Mac watched her walk back up to the front of the plane and disappear behind the curtain separating the cockpit.
Mac untwisted the cap and took a small sip of the cold water. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her sister studying her. Lauren pulled her glance away though when she saw she'd been caught.
As Mac drank her water, little by little her nausea abated. Soon though her eyes got heavy and she drifted off to sleep.
When she woke up a couple hours later she felt fine. She figured it had to be a combination of nerves and motion sickness. She saw the remains of Lauren's salad and sandwich and her stomach started its own protest.
Joyce must had been lingering somewhere nearby, watching, because Mac had only been up for a few minutes when she came by with a big entrée sized Vegan-modified Greek salad with vinaigrette on the side.
Mac eagerly poured a liberal amount of dressing on the salad, and hungrily tucked into it. She suspected whoever complained about airplane food didn't fly on private jets. She wasn't entirely sure meals were even served very often on commercial flights. People probably paid dearly for the privilege of eating bad food, but that wasn't an issue for her at that precise time.
One of things she did enjoy about camping in her old Mac-life was the greasy spoon diners they would often patronize while on the road. Choosing to be vegan did somewhat limit what she could eat, but she always found something she could cobble together and call it a meal. Plus her mom always made sure to have plenty of "safe" snacks on hand, too. Her dad was a big believer in supporting what he called the 'backbone' of their country, those little, independent stores and restaurants. It had trickled its way down to her, though apparently by nurture, rather than blood ties.
After the remnants of her meal had been cleared away, Mac lugged out her laptop and killed a couple hours working on a report that wasn't due until the week after winter break ended. Lauren had fallen asleep, and she could hear soft snores coming from her sister. If it had been Ryan, she'd be either taking pics on her phone for possible embarrassment later on or pounding him with a pillow, or both at the same time.
Lauren, on the other hand, looked so innocent in sleep, her black hair covering her face. Mac thought it would be criminal to disturb her. Plus, she freely admitted to herself, she enjoyed watching the sister who had never been anything but a distant, unobtainable dream since she first saw her.
As always, those thoughts put a stranglehold on all thoughts about papers detailing her views on the future of Artificial Intelligence.
She heaved a sigh and shut down her laptop. As she placed it in the messenger bag, her hand felt the edge of the Sudoku puzzle book she'd stashed in there as she'd engaged in some kamikaze packing after her fictional cat finding mission on Colony Place the day before. If thoughts of Lauren were an ache, thinking about life with the Mackenzie's was this unrelenting throb of pain that refused to recede.
Numbers were about the best distracter she could come up with from her limited selection of amusements, so she opened the book to a fresh puzzle and set to work conquering it. At particularly difficult lines, she would chew on the end of her blue pen as she thought hard about what numbers were needed to complete that sequence. Her plan worked, numbers and the puzzles became her entire focus.
She was just about to start her fifth puzzle when the captain announced they were starting their descent into the Providenciales International airport on Providenciales Island, the most populace of the archipelago. Biting her lip, Mac tucked the book back into her bag, then set to work tightening her belt, in preparation for what was hopefully not too bumpy of a landing.
Less than twenty minutes later Mac was grateful to be back on terra firma. Fortunately, the motion sickness that plagued her during take-off didn't make a reappearance during landing, a fact she was grateful for.
She followed her family through the small airport. Though it was billed as an international airport, it was not a bustling building, especially at that hour of the night. Mac felt thrown off schedule by the long flight and three hour time difference, the nap from earlier had restored her energy, but now those affects had long worn off.
There was a limo waiting to take them to the villa that was their home for the week.
On the twisty, windy road that ran parallel to the ocean, Mac tried to concentrate more on the scenery to the right, consisting of houses, and pockets of commerce.—general stores, and little roadside diners and taco stands, rather than the steep drop to the ocean below.
Given the fact that Christmas was only four days away, she was surprised that there weren't many wreaths, or palms festooned with decorative lighting. Nestled among her clothes were presents for everyone, including Lucille, who actually had the week off, she figured that gift could keep until they got back home. Evidently, in addition to the fact the maid had more than earned a vacation as far as Mac could tell, the villa they were renting came with a full staff, which would be at their disposal the entire time.
It had been a new experience shopping for gifts knowing cost wasn't really an obstacle, she almost would have labeled it fun except for two things, shopping was still shopping, and she hated it with a passion, and also it was more challenging than one would think to shop for gifts for people you, in actuality, had only really known for 6 weeks. She had the self-pressure of fearing her gifts would totally miss the mark, underscore perfectly the masquerade she'd been living.
Lauren, however, had been easy to buy for, by comparison, at least. The year before, she bought a first edition X-Men comic for Ryan with the intent that he'd sell it to help with a semester, maybe two, of college. It hadn't been anywhere near her price range, but thanks to the old-fashioned bartering system, she'd done a little computer work exchange. She had the comic hidden in her room, in the back of the closet. Mac was fairly certain Ryan had forgotten all about it. It was in that vein that she picked out a first edition copy of Frankenstein.
Obviously, Lauren didn't need a college fund, but it stemmed back to another trip to Java's that they'd taken a couple weeks back, after Lauren had mentioned wanting a soy chai latte. Mac was an easy sell; she never turned down chai lattes. It had started when they were discussing books—again—and Lauren explained that calling a book a classic automatically meant it was boring. She tried to explain that there were plenty of wonderful books written in other centuries but she could tell that her sister was unconvinced.
A few days later she'd stopped in, on a whim, to a dusty used bookshop in Neptune, a few doors down from Comp-U-Stop. A battered copy of Frankenstein caught her eye, and it was a nice feeling to know buying it wouldn't break her bank account. It was widely-regarded as one of the first sci-fi books ever published, that made it worthy of the term classic in her mind.
The limo slowed down and made a left hand turn into a twisting, winding dirt road. They meandered around curves for about five minutes, until it turned into a driveway of a sprawling one story stucco house. It was too dark to see details, even with the well-lit pathway, but it was definitely more luxurious digs than the camper she was used to staying in.
'Mom2' accepted the key from the driver, who apparently was employed by the rental company. They entered the house, and Mac looked around in awe, and she was just in the foyer. It was a wide open room with marble flooring, a huge tear drop crystal chandelier, and a real water fountain in the center. It rivaled the Neptune Grand for luxe and formality, yet the pale greens and blues that made up the color palette wasn't off putting at all, it lent unexpected warmth.
It was going on 10 PM local time, which made it just shy of 7 their time, but it had been a long day of travel for them all, so after touring the available bedrooms—Mac counted 9—they all made their selections and settled in. Each room had an ocean view, according to 'Mom2', who was starting to sound like a travel brochure, in Mac's mind, at least.
The room she chose had turquoise blue painted walls, and it had a big wall of windows. She set her bags on top of the matching ottoman in front of the upholstered chair in the corner of her room. They were outfitted with the same pattern as the duvet on the Queen sized bed, a motif of sundry ocean-dwelling creatures.
Lauren selected the yellow room right next door; it was smaller, but very cozy. If she had been traveling with Ryan, there would have been an epic battle for room domination. He would have fought dirty for the bigger room just for the "fun of it," not because the biggest, best of anything was particularly important to him.
Mac changed into a sleep shirt and a pair of boxers and slipped into bed. She was asleep in a matter of minutes, despite her nap on the plane.
She woke up the next morning with the sun streaming in through a crack in the heavy matching curtains that blocked the ocean view. Instead of her usual lingering in bed, trying to put off the day as long as possible, she trekked out of bed immediately upon opening her eyes. It was her first full day in paradise, and it wasn't worthy of wasting. Pulling the curtains apart, she was greeted by the shimmering turquoise waters of the Atlantic just beyond the frame of trees outside the window.
Mac dug through her suitcase and pulled on a pair of jean shorts and her favorite purple Sarcasm is my Super Power tee shirt.
When she wound her way through the still-unfamiliar house and into the kitchen, she saw the cook, that came with the house, hard at work making a full breakfast. Mac greeted the lady who said her name was Emmanuelle, Emmy for short. She couldn't have been much older than Mac was in her other life, probably only around 23, maybe 24.
"People call me Mac," she replied back. At first the words that just tumbled from her mouth didn't alert her self-censor, it was habit. Then, she realized what she just said. "It's because I like computers," she covered. For some reason, she was slipping up more frequently the longer she was in this dimension, maybe it was because she was starting to get more comfortable and therefore kept less of a reign over her tongue. It was the idea that she felt comfortable here that confused her the most.
Emmy promised to make her vegan pancakes and pointed her in the direction of the covered porch, which had unobstructed views of the ocean just off the property. The rest of the family was already seated, tucking into Eggs Benedict.
A few minutes later Mac had a hot cup of black coffee and a full stack of vegan pancakes with maple syrup in front of her. The cook had murmured to her to enjoy her meal, and had addressed her as 'Mac.' Only 'Mom2' had appeared to notice, judging from the raised eyebrow, but no comment was made.
The waves crashed in the background. It was a lovely spot for a meal, winter had not hit the islands, it was around 11:30 AM local time and was shaping up to be a pleasant, non-humid, 70 degree day. Not, of course, that it was that much cooler in Neptune in late December, it wasn't.
She had thought leaving a coastal town to vacation on a tropical island at a beach house would have been something akin to a busman's holiday, but surprisingly it wasn't. Maybe she was just in vacation mode, which was a nice place to be in regardless.
After the meal was done, everyone lingered at the table, drinking coffee, starring at the waves, and talking about nothing of importance. Plans were made, which were pretty much just playing in the water, and filling up the time doing nothing.
Lauren organized a beach walk.
As Emmy finished clearing the table, the Sinclairs' went inside to put on shoes. They planned to meet in five minutes on the beach, next to the rocky outcropping that marked the divide between the villa's property and the private beach below.
Mac grabbed a pair of flip flops and joined the rest of the family already there.
They were only about 200 yards down the beach before she gave up on the shoe idea altogether. Lauren had already given up about 50 yards before she did. Their parents trailed behind, engrossed in their own conversation.
They stayed close to the water line, where the waves played chicken with their feet, rising up on shore; bringing sea detritus with it, and then backing off, taking away more than it gave.
Mac was enjoying listening to more stories of Brittany's, Lauren's new best friend, exploits. Each tale convinced her more and more that her first impression of the girl being a pint-sized version of Veronica was pretty apt. The duo was convinced Mrs. Winters had a secret identity. Mac was suspect about that theory, but she liked the way Lauren laid out the case.
A glance over her shoulder proved they were pretty far down the quiet beach. Their parents were trailing behind a good margin, too. She wasn't paying attention to where she was walking when she felt something squishy under her foot.
Then, the next sensation was one of an intense, hot spreading pain.
"Ouch, damnit," Mac screamed, though it ended in a wail. She collapsed where she was, and grabbed at her right foot. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a purplish looking blob on the sand, and knew instantly that was what had stung her.
Lauren kneeled down beside her, and tried to pry her hand away, but Mac batted it away, not wanting anyone else to touch her injured foot.
"What do you think it was?"
"It was a Jellyfish, Lauren," she said, willing the tears that were pricking her eyes to stay back. She didn't want to be a baby, but the sting was sharp and throbbing. Her parents must have realized something was up, because they were jogging toward them faster than Mac remembered ever seeing either of them move.
"Mom," Lauren said, "hurry up." She made a beckoning motion with her hands. "Madi got stung."
"Stung? Stung by what? I was wondering what was going on." Ellen gently slid her younger daughter over, so she could examine Mac's foot. It was red and swollen.
"A Jellyfish," Mac repeated, then bit her lip so she wouldn't scream when her mom gently brushed the surface. It was a very soft touch, but it hurt nonetheless. "A Portuguese Man-of-War, I think."
"Can you walk on it, sweetie?" 'Dad2' asked, hovering helplessly behind his wife.
"Nope," she said, not wanting to even attempt it.
"Alright, hold on, I'll help you," her dad said as he came up behind her and, putting his hands under her armpits, lifted up until she was up on one leg, keeping her weight off the injured foot.
'Mom2' hovered, dispensing first aid advice, once again proving herself to be a walking travel guide. In this case, however, Mac was grateful. Dipping her foot into the salt water immediately lessened the sting. It still hurt, but it dulled the sharp edges of pain.
Limping back up the beach, with 'Dad2' acting like a human crutch, was a very slow process. Lauren and her mom tried to match their pace, but kept getting ahead. Finally they reached the stairs that led up to the property. Mac was relieved when her dad just picked her up for the last bit of the journey into the house and onto the couch.
She was gently placed on the big, brown suede sofa, a pillow placed under her foot. Lauren set to work gathering the TV remote, her cell phone and a big glass of ice water, while 'Mom2' was able to locate some Ibuprofen for the pain.
They all offered to keep her company, but Mac convinced them to go back outside and enjoy the beach. A glance at WebMD on her phone had convinced her that in several hours to one full-day she'd be okay, it was just a short term, though very ouchy, condition.
She flipped through the TV channels but didn't find anything to keep her focus. Settling on HGTV's House Hunters International for background noise, Mac scrolled through her phone contact list and decided to e-whine to Dick.
Madi: You should be kissing my foot now
She was a little surprised when it pinged back right away. She didn't think Dick would be in such close proximity of his phone.
Dick: Yes dear. (It's my new answer for everything you say, that way I won't be in trouble)
Madi: Don't you want to know why?
Dick: Yes dear.
Madi: I got stung by a jellyfish! It hurts soooo bad.
It was definitely a pain worthy of the three extra "o's" in so.
Mac waited, but she didn't get the immediate ping of a response like she had expected. Just when she was starting to think maybe Dick had left the room and hadn't seen the text yet, her phone rang. A glance at the number proved it was Dick calling.
"Hi, babe," she said by greeting.
"What if it was the mailman calling?" Dick retorted, from the other end.
"Maybe I call the mailman babe, too," she quipped back.
"I've called my mailman babe before and he got pretty pissed," Dick teased. Then his tone grew more serious. "So, a Jellyfish?" There was still an undertone of laughter, though.
"Occupational hazard of paradise," Mac explained. "You're a beach bum, surfer dude; you must have gotten stung before."
"Once," Dick admitted, "last year, in fact. It hurt like a bitch."
"Not going to argue that one. I've got my foot propped up now."
"Did anyone pee on it?"
"No, Dick, no one peed on it. That's gross." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, not that he could see it anyway.
"It's accepted first aid," he defended.
"Not according to WebMD, that's just a wives tale, and it only makes things worse."
"Well Velma, in this instance I will have to disagree with your source. I learned about it on Friends. If it's on a TV show it has to be right, that's like a law and shit."
"Okay, I'm pretty sure that's not true, it's definitely not law and shit. Anyway, what happened to yes, dear?" Mac asked, accenting it in sarcasm. "I like the yes, dears. That plan only lasted three minutes evidently."
"Exception proves the rule. Seriously, I peed on my foot and it really helped."
"You had to supply your own pee for your injury?"
"Well, I asked Logan, but he refused. Evidently the bro code does NOT extend to soothing jelly fish stings." Dick said in an indignant tone.
"When did it stop throbbing?" Mac tried to stop the whine, but it bleed through anyway. She attempted to sit up slightly, but grimaced as the adjustment caused an additional jolt of pain to shoot through her foot and up her leg. A moan slipped out.
"I don't remember for sure, but I was pretty miserable for about a day."
"The pee miracle cure didn't help after all?" It came out as more of a growl; her teeth were still clinched from the pain.
"It took the edge off, which was pretty damn good."
"Bet Logan's pee would have been even better." Mac couldn't resist teasing him. "He probably built up antibodies." She couldn't believe she was having a conversation about Logan's pee.
"Probably, the selfish asshole," Dick grumped.
They chatted a few more minutes until it was time for Dick to leave to meet Logan. He said they were going surfing.
She hadn't even been thinking of the time difference between her island utopia and Neptune, especially with the pain in her foot distracting her from everything else. She disconnected the call with a grin on her face, thinking of the big, goofy guy who was systematically worming himself deeper into her life in both dimensions.
She spent the rest of the day alternating between keeping her foot propped up on pillows, soaking in a warm solution of saltwater, and napping. Both lunch and dinner were brought to her on the couch, and the only times she had to get up were to limp to the bathroom, those visits were short and she kept them to the minimum.
Lauren had self-appointed herself as caretaker. As soon as the rest of the family had come back from playing in the ocean, she had camped out in the chair next to the couch and tried to distract Mac as best she could.
Her foot had ached so bad the previous night she hadn't even wanted to get off the couch to make the short trek down the hall and into her bedroom.
Fortunately, the next day Mac woke up to just a dull itch, the pain had pretty much faded during the night. The sun was streaming through the curtains in the family room.
She was well enough to go out sight-seeing with the family.
That night they had dinner on the beach. This time Mac, and everyone else, were hyper-vigilant in their awareness of Jellyfish. However, there weren't any more infiltrations on the beach, so Mac figured it had just been a short invasion during the tide, and she'd just been (un)lucky enough to fall victim to that particular wash up. She hadn't realized it was possible to get stung even by dead jellyfish. She chalked it up to a lesson learned, one she'd evidently had to learn the painful way.
They spent Christmas Eve and Christmas sticking close to the villa, there were plenty of things to amuse themselves with between the ocean, the pool table, the tennis courts, the hot tub and pool, and the life-sized chess set tucked next to the gardens.
Mac and Lauren had stumbled upon the chess board on accident their third day there. She was happy to discover her sister was fully versed on the rules and was a challenging opponent. The kings, queens, rooks, pawns, bishops, and knights were each over four feet tall, making it quite comical to watch and to play.
It had felt so Secret Garden-esque when she had first spotted the massive chess board with its full suite of pieces standing as tall and still as sentinels. It was tucked off the left of the grove of Bougainvillea, like a fantasy world hidden away from outsiders.
Much of the villa and surrounding property was like a dream world.
Skimping wasn't a word in 'Mom2's' lexicon, everything about the trip was platinum class.
There were a lot of little hidden gems at the villa, including the statue of three Dolphins perched on the top of the waterfall that cascaded into the deep end of the pool. In fact, Mac assumed the villa got its name, Three Dolphins, from that sculpture.
By comparison, the upholstery in the Mackenzie Road Warrior camper was a fading green, and looked worn in places. The faux wood paneling in the living area had lost some luster in their nine years of ownership. However, her dad's pride of ownership was apparent. It had finally been paid off, and though there were still a few dings on the outside, her dad washed it lovingly by hand every other Saturday. There was coziness apparent throughout the interior, but Mac would never admit that fact out loud.
Christmas morning was remarkably similar in both worlds. Lauren, like Ryan, was up insanely early and was so excited as she passed around the gifts.
Mac was happily surprised to see that Lauren actually liked her gift—she'd figured it would be something she'd appreciate later on in life. The highlight though was when she'd opened Lauren's gift to her. In a big box was every computer-related gizmo and gadget she'd decided not to get on their last visit to Comp-U-Stop.
"I had a little help from the store owner," Lauren had admitted with a blush.
"Dave," Mac supplied, hugging her sister tight. "Thanks sis. This is perfect." It really was. In that moment she felt fully connected to her blood sister, like someone finally got her.
Mac felt her parents had also gone above and beyond in the gift-giving department as well. Ellen had confessed that she had always felt a need to atone for the fact her birthday was so close to Christmas. She suspected that Nat had always felt that way, too, but the tighter budget had required more combo gifts as she got older and her wants got more expensive.
The rest of the week went by quickly in a blur of sand, waves, family chess competitions, laughter and gourmet Island cuisine. The return flight went much smoother and Mac didn't get nauseous the entire time.
They were back in Neptune just in time to ring in 2005.
TBC…
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