Jack’s eyes roamed her face, and Lorraine started to tremble at the warmth in his gaze. She made herself return to the task of feeding him, but her hands shook too badly and she had to stop for a moment.
“When can I have real food?”
“Soon,” she promised. Without antibiotics to help combat infection, his body required more time to heal. He needed a great deal of sleep, too, and it frustrated him that he only seemed able to stay awake an hour or so before drifting off again.
Time lagged for her while he slept. In the past few days she’d read every piece of printed material on board. Twice. She’d laundered all his clothes and appropriated a couple of shirts and a pair of drawstring cotton shorts for herself. She’d cleaned, scrubbed and reorganized the entire living quarters. It was apparent from certain things she’d found while cleaning—small gifts, cards she shouldn’t have read but did—that Jack maintained a number of ongoing relationships with women around the Caribbean. This confirmed the decision she’d already made: It would be best to let him continue believing she was married. Besides, she couldn’t come up with an easy way to tell him there really wasn’t a husband. He’d assumed it—she let him—and now she preferred to leave things as they were. And Gary…well, she’d agreed to marry him. She loved Gary, she truly did. She had no business contemplating for even two seconds any kind of liaison with another man. She’d taken to wearing Gary’s engagement necklace outside her shirt. Jack’s shirt.
Jack would’ve been more comfortable belowdecks in his own bed, but he’d rejected that idea, choosing to soak in the sunshine and fresh salt air. Lorraine made a bed for him on a chair that partially reclined, and he spent his time there.
“You forgot to untie Scotch on Water from the dock!” He chuckled.
Lorraine knew it had been a mistake to tell Jack how she’d managed to escape from Pucuro. He’d teased her about it more than once. Those were the only times his face showed signs of color. He’d lost a lot of blood and was still deathly pale and very weak. She supposed she ought to be grateful that Jack seemed to find the tale of their escape so amusing.
He finished the soup, and Lorraine watched as he fought to keep his eyes open. “Sleep, Jack,” she urged, ready to retire for the night herself. She slept belowdecks in his bed.
“I want to talk,” he insisted, and clung to her wrist to keep her from leaving.
“Later,” she promised.
“Don’t go for a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll just rest my eyes for a little while and then we can…”
Whatever he was about to say was lost as he fell asleep. She didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, and in some ways was grateful he’d been too weak. Her fear was that he’d bring up something better left unsaid.
The subject of her assumed marriage was like a lit fuse thrust between them. At times Lorraine wished she’d set him straight on the first occasion he’d mentioned her “husband.” But then she’d remember Gary, or something would happen to remind her how far removed Jack’s world was from hers. There could be no future for them.
She should leave now, she realized, and go down below. Still, she stayed at his side, watching the moon’s reflection on the water. She might simply be rationalizing her feelings, but really, it was logical that under these circumstances, she’d be attracted to Jack. He’d saved her life and she’d saved his. Such a bond between two people couldn’t be ignored.
They’d created a genuine friendship during these past days. Or so Lorraine believed, anyway. They’d talked about many things, and he’d given her glimpses of his life before Scotch on Water. It didn’t surprise her to learn he’d been a mercenary. He’d worked with a group of men who’d called themselves Deliverance Company. Apparently he’d had deep friendships with these men.
Lorraine did her share of talking, too. She told him about her childhood, growing up without a father, and about her mother. But describing her life with Virginia made her sad, and she quickly changed the subject to her favorite movie plots. He hadn’t seen many movies in the past few years, and she delighted in recalling the ones she treasured and watched again and again. She’d thought about some of them recently, so retelling The African Queen and Casablanca was—admittedly—a chance to show off. His reactions were everything she could have asked for. These movie sessions were the most fun she’d had since before her mother died. She particularly enjoyed narrating the plot of Romancing the Stone, which he’d never seen. It wasn’t hard, somehow, to imagine the two of them in the lead roles….
There were more personal stories, too. That very afternoon, in fact, she’d asked him about his scars. He explained his injuries from the years he served with Deliverance Company and then wanted to know if she had any. Only one, she’d told him, from a broken arm that had required surgery. She’d been horsing around with friends, demonstrating her skill sliding down a staircase railing. Unfortunately she’d toppled and tumbled down a whole flight, landing on her right arm. That experience had taught her a certain caution.
Lorraine waited, watching him sleep. His breathing evened out and she started to ease away from his side and slip belowdecks. To her surprise his grip on her wrist tightened.
“Don’t go,” he whispered, but his eyes remained closed.
The night, with moonlight glowing on the water, was almost unearthly in its beauty. “Lie with me awhile,” he urged. He slid over to give her space.
Resting her head against his good shoulder, she lay beside him. Jack placed his right arm around her and she draped hers across his middle.
This quiet intimacy between them was exquisite. Without speaking of it, they both seemed to recognize that this was time set apart. Even when she was certain Jack had fallen into a deep sleep, she didn’t leave. She hadn’t been this content in days. Weeks. She’d found a haven in this stranger’s arms.
Except that he wasn’t a stranger anymore….
Lorraine awoke and the world was dark. The boat pitched aimlessly about the gulf, going wherever the currents took her. Stars glittered in the inky sky—more stars than she’d ever seen.