She stood there for a very long time, having some kind of internal battle. He could see it on her face and in her stance. Her arms were clasped tightly to her as if she were suddenly chilled.
“Nothing” was all she said.
He didn’t turn away. “I built a pile of driftwood for a beacon fire on the ridge the first morning on the island.”
She turned around, her hands still hugging her elbows. “You did?”
He nodded.
Her arms fell to her sides for a moment, then she rubbed a hand across her forehead. With a sigh, she walked down to the sand. She stood near him but didn’t look at him. Her attention was on the vast ocean beyond their lagoon. “What if no one finds us?”
So that was it. He squatted down in the sand and picked up a tiger shell, then turned to look at the same distant horizon. “Someone will come eventually.”
“But there’s no guarantee. It could be twenty years.”
“It could be tomorrow.”
She didn’t say anything for the longest time. There was only the distant noise of Theodore’s harmonica, the crash of a wave on the rocks near the headland, the nearby lapping sound of the water as it licked the edge of the beach.
“Do you have anyone waiting for you?” she asked.
“Me?” He laughed and tossed the shell a couple of times. “Like who, Smitty, a lover or wife?”
She shrugged.
He looked out at the sea, then tossed the shell in the water and straightened. “There’s just me. No one else.” He waited for her to look at him.
She didn’t. She sat down in the sand and hugged her knees to her chest, staring out at the sea.
He sat down next to her just to see what she’d do. She didn’t move, which surprised him.
She stared at the silver bottle. “Look at how old this is.”
He gave the bottle a cursory glance.
She held it up in the sunlight. “See these carvings and designs? They weren’t made by a machine. They are too imperfect. Something made by human hand is never perfect.”
He didn’t respond. He wanted to know what she was getting at.
She hesitated, then asked, “What would have happened if we had found this?”
He gave a wry laugh. “We’d be off the island.” “Yes, I suppose we would. I’d be back in San Francisco.” She paused and dug her feet in the wet sand. “Home,” she said wistfully. “Where would you be?”
He shrugged. “Somewhere in the States.”
“Isn’t there someplace you could call home?”
“I grew up in Pittsburgh.”
“What brought you to the South Seas? Seems like an odd choice.”
“You’re here.”
“On a holiday only. At least it was supposed to be a holiday.” She gave him a wry look. “Somehow I don’t think you came here on a holiday.”
He looked at her then. “What is this, a cross-examination?”
“No,” she said with a sharp laugh. “Just plain old curiosity. No need to put up a defense.”
