Shipwrecked-Chapter 8

Back on the beach, Della fixed them an appetizing lunch of half a peanut butter sandwich and a few crackers with cheese. When Perry grimaced at the meager fare, she reminded him that until his wild boar emerged from the wilds, they would have to ration their supplies.

When they finished, Perry spread the charts he had taken from the boat on the sand. After checking several of them, he finally found the correct one.

"Okay, we know we're on Clarion Island, which is," he moved his finger across the chart locating the island, "right here."

Della leaned over his shoulder. There was an awful lot of blue on that map. Chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully, she studied the chart without comment. Occasionally she looked up and out to sea, processing everything. Perry, meanwhile, studied her.

After a few minutes of silence, she met his eyes. "So basically, we are on a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean."

He didn't miss the concern in her voice. "Steady, girl."

She sighed, looking out to sea again. "It's beautiful here. But . . . There must be a reason no one has set foot here since the place was christened."

"Well , we said we wanted to get away from it all. Looks like we accomplished that." He laughed softly, then, when she didn't share it, he frowned. "Della?"

She shook her head, holding herself tense so the storm inside wouldn't break her wide open. Talking would open the floodgates. And then what? Then she would be like every other female.

"Della," he breathed her name gently, almost as though he were giving her permission to fall apart. Then he angled himself so that she was directly in front of him. The charts were forgotten. Only her comfort mattered now.

Inexplicably in that moment her guard went down. She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling. Then suddenly she felt herself caught up in Perry's arms. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, with no thought to his shoulder. Holding her close to him, Perry kissed her tenderly. At his gentle touch, everything seemed to finally come to a head. The tears were quiet at first, but soon became great racking sobs, shaking her entire body.

He pressed his lips to her cheek, rubbed his hands up and down her arms, then rubbed her back, whispering soothing words in her ear. At last, after a time, her sobs abated to soft hiccups. Eventually she moved from the circle of his arms and he handed her one of the napkins from their lunch.

"I've ruined your shirt," she sniffed, noticing that it was fairly damp.

He grinned at her. "Small price to pay for the pleasure of comforting you."

As Della dried her eyes and tried to regain her composure, she relaxed against Perry's shoulder, staring out at the ocean. Although the release of her emotions felt good, she was ashamed for allowing them to get the best of her.

"Perry, I'm so sorry. I don't know…"

He silenced her with a kiss, so deep and passionate, it literally took her breath away. When he finally broke away, he gazed into her still misty hazel eyes. He took another napkin and dried the rest of the tears on her cheeks.

"Now my dear Miss Street, you listen to me. I don't know of any woman who could have been through what you have and not turn into a weeping mess."

"That's hardly helpful."

"Della, you are too hard on yourself. Listen to me. You are the strongest person I have ever met."

"But…". He silenced her with a finger to her lips.

"Hush. Let me finish, please. You came through a shipwreck, saved my skin—very nicely, I might add—and have managed to provide us with enough supplies to survive for quite a long period of time."

"Providing you don't raid the stash while I'm napping," she teased, finally managing a weak smile. "Perry…"

He gave a small shake of his head. "So after all that, when you suddenly become a—what would you call it?—a 'typical female,' and have a crying jag, I am more than happy to offer any comfort I can."

Della put her arms around his neck, drawing him into a long kiss. "Thank you, Perry."

He returned the kiss, smiling at her. "Want to forget the charts, the food and the shelter and have your way with me?"

She laughed outright, then pushed him away. "Tempting, but . . . Maybe later. I want another look at those charts."

Still holding her in his arms, Perry reached back and brought the chart forward. "According to this, we're about 450 miles from the mainland. That's too far to attempt in the Zodiac."

Della laid her head on his shoulder. "So what do we do now?"

Pulling her tighter against his chest, his voice took on a light tone. "Well, we do what we have been doing. We ration our supplies. I'll see what I can do about making us a shelter in case of bad weather and…"

She raised her head, seeing the twinkle in his fabulous blue eyes. "And?"

The dimples appeared as he grinned wolfishly. "And enjoy our private island until Paul or Tragg interrupt us, at precisely the wrong time, just like they always do."

Della stared at him for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. Perry joined in.

If that isn't the most wonderful sound in the world, I'll give up law and sell apples, he told himself, his eyes roaming over her, memorizing the lines and contours of her face, tucking the memory away for personal reflection. If I don't ever step foot in the courtroom again, it has all been worth it for this moment, for that laugh.

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Sometime later, after the food had been stored away and Della had, in her words, "powdered her nose," Perry decided they should make another trip to the sailboat to see what else they could salvage. He also wanted to see if there was any way to get the boat to their beach.

When they reached the boat, he was distressed to see the ship's list had increased. It was sitting lower in the water, which meant that sinking was becoming a real possibility.

After securing the Zodiac to the back of the vessel, Perry turned to Della. "I don't suppose I could talk you into staying here?" At her frown, he chuckled. "Didn't think so. Alright, Miss Street, up you come!"

Helping her out of the small boat, they climbed to the now severely slanting deck. She clung to his arm to keep her balance.

"Perry, I'm going to go below and see if I can find anything else useful."

"Okay, but please be careful. If the water's too deep, come back up right away." Then giving her a quick kiss, he made sure she got to the stairs.

When Della reached the salon, the water was lapping at the two bottom stairs, but that meant it was only knee-high. She stepped into the tepid water and began the slow march to the aft cabin. After only taking a few steps, she froze, then screamed. Something swam between her legs.

"DELLA?!" Perry immediately ran down the stairs. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

By the time he reached her, she was laughing. "I'm alright, but I think our dinner is swimming around in here."

Perry let out the breath he had been holding. "Don't do that! I'm too young to have gray hair like Paul!"

She laughed again, this time in wonderous delight. "Oh, Perry! By the time you're old enough for gray hair, Paul will be bald!"

His retort died on his lips as he felt an unwelcome sensation against his legs. At that moment, the large tuna swam in between them. He jumped, stretching both arms out in an effort to maintain his balance. Then he took Della by surprise, reached down and with a skill she didn't know he possessed, grabbed the fish and in a fluid motion, managed to get it into the galley sink.

Grabbing a knife, he quickly killed the fish. "I'll clean and filet this later. Not a wild boar, but not too shabby. At least we'll eat well for the next couple days."

Della's mouth was hanging open. Perry smiled at her. Wading to where she still stood, he used his finger to lift her chin and close her mouth. "What's wrong?"

"You are just amazing!"

Now he laughed. "Glad I still have the ability to impress you! I learned a lot in the navy, but nothing so important as this: fishing without a net. Now, let's see what we can find to salvage. I'm staying with you in case there might be something a bit larger in here."

Della's face drained of color at that comment. "Uh, at the risk of sounding like a chicken, I think I will skip this adventure."

"I was teasing, Della," he reassured.

She shrugged. "I'll wait on the steps."

Perry laughed and helped her back to the steps. She leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. When he stepped back, blinking at her in surprise, she flashed him a playful grin.

"What was that for?"

"That, Chief, was for being my hero. Now, my hunter-gatherer, what are you going to do next?"

Instead of responding, he placed a kiss on her lips, then headed to her cabin. A few minutes later he came back with another blanket, handing it to Della. Then he disappeared into his cabin and emerged with yet another blanket and a heavier jacket which had obviously belonged to Jack.

"Okay, that's that," he announced, "Let's head up. There's a cabinet in the wheelhouse I want to check out."

He took hold of her elbow, just like he always did. Somehow it was the most reassuring thing he could have done. Together they ascended. Heading for the wheelhouse, Della saw the cabinet to which he had referred. Unfortunately, when Perry attempted to open it, the door held firm. There was no sign of keys of any sort, neither in the wheelhouse or belowdecks.

With one hand on his hip, he scratched his head, trying to come up with something to open the lock. Suddenly he saw the earrings Della was wearing. In the shape of an open star, they had several points. Gently he reached out, pulling one of them from her ear. Using the point, he deftly picked the lock.

Inside the cabinet, he found a Very pistol, a box of flares and—most importantly—a .38 handgun and ammunition.

At least now I can protect Della. He frowned. Jack . . . Why?

There was also a toolbox, containing almost everything they would need for their imposed stay.

"Della this is a great find! Now I can build us a shelter."

While Della was putting the articles in the small boat, Perry worked at removing several of the large hooks holding the mainsail. He also used a knife to cut several lengths of rope. There were other odds and ends that were salvageable, if it became necessary. Wood for fire. Nails. But no matter what, he was going to maintain a positive outlook.

His final chore was dropping the anchor, hoping to keep the boat in its present position. Then he joined Della in the Zodiac and headed them back to their beach, more confident in their chances for survival.