She understood how he felt. She was fast learning that children were another species altogether. “It’s not easy to admit that a five-year-old can get the best of you, is it?”
He didn’t say anything. His demeanor made him look about as flexible as the rock they sat on.
“I forgot. It’s not easy for you to admit anything.” He turned, pinning her with a sharp look. “I can admit things.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Like I’m right and you’re wrong.” He gave a wicked crack of laughter.
“I walked right into that.”
“Yes, sweetheart. You sure did.”
She stood and walked over to the bottle sitting abandoned on the rock. Three wishes, she thought. She picked the bottle up and turned it slowly in her hand.
She was holding a genie bottle. She wondered briefly if anyone back home would believe this. If she ever got back home.
Now there was a depressing thought.
She turned to Hank. “What if we’re stuck on this island for a long time?”
“Then we’re stuck. I’ve been in worse places.”
She looked at the tropical paradise around her. She paused, suddenly a little shaken. The wordstwenty yearsorthirty yearscame to mind.
“Oh, my God...” She sat down hard on the rock, her whole body suddenly limp at a horrid but real possibility. What if they were never found at all?
* * *
Hank staredatMargaret’s stiff back. She marched down to the beach with the determination of a German Kaiser. And the energy of a German Shepherd.
Hell... She’d been thinking again.
He slowly followed her, then leaned against the armored trunk of a tall sago palm and watched her.
Like a beaver intent on building a dam, she dragged pieces of driftwood down the beach and piled them on the crest of a small rise, where the ground was dry and a rocky cliff jutted out toward the sea.
The longer he watched, the higher the stack of wood.
She gave him a glance but didn’t stop for a few more minutes. Finally she stood back, her hands on her hips, and she cast a critical eye on the wood.
“Having fun?” he asked.
She rearranged the wood a few times until she had it the way she wanted—God only knew why.
“If you want to build something, Smitty, we have a hut to build.”
She stopped fiddling with the wood and apparently decided to look at him. “If a ship passes, we have to be prepared.” She bent over and adjusted the wood again.
“Uh-huh.”She was in the midst of digging a shallow ring around the pyre with her foot, and she stopped suddenly and looked up, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t use that condescending tone with me.”
“All I said was uh-huh.”“It was the snide way you said it.” She straightened and then searched the beach, tapping a finger against her lips in thought. “I wonder if I should build another one.” She turned around and raised a hand to block out the sun. “Perhaps over there.”
He crossed his arms. “You want to tell me what brought all this on?”
She looked over her shoulder. “All what?”
He waved a hand. “This sudden need to build signal fires?”
