Stranded With a Stranger- Chapter Four

Chapter Four
Chastity woke to see sun filtering in through the leaf roof of the hut. The fire was still crackling, and now had two fish cooking on a stick above it. Richard crouched beside the fire, turning the fish and periodically stirring the fire with a long stick. “Good morning.” Chastity sat up and stretched.
“Morning.” Richard mumbled. Chastity noticed dark circles under his eyes. “Haven’t you slept?”
“I said I’d keep watch.” He shrugged.
“You didn’t have to stay up all night!”
“Well, I was too wound up to sleep anyway. I’ll take a nap right after breakfast.”
“Good idea. How’d you catch the fish?” Chastity eyed the roasting meat hungrily. The rich fish smell was making her stomach growl almost as ferociously as the wild thing last night.
“I tied the knife to a long pole… and went fish spearing.” Richard smiled, a real grin, flashing white teeth. Chastity caught her breath. Crouching in the sun, water dripping from his ebony hair and glistening in droplets on his wide, bare back… muscles shifting sinuously beneath his skin as he lifted the fish from the fire with wide leaves… this was a man. She shook her head and accepted the leaf-wrapped fish he handed her, murmuring her thanks.
While she ate the hot fish, every unseasoned bite tasting better than the expensive salmon Guillermo had bought her in that restaurant last week, Chastity kept sneaking glances at the man across the fire. Sun and drops of water made the bare skin of his chest glint and shine like steel, his toned body radiating strength and exhaustion. It must take a lot to wear this one out, she thought, then blushed.
When he’d chewed his fish down to the bones, Richard crawled to the makeshift bed of palm fronds and storm poncho and lay down. Chastity ate only half of her fish, leaving the other by Richard in case he was hungry when he woke up. Then, standing to stretch more thoroughly, she decided to do a little exploring.
Walking down the beach, Chastity felt her initial sense of adventure and excitement return. It was thrilling and terrifying- being trapped on this tiny piece of land, all alone, fighting for survival… NOT alone. She corrected herself. Trapped on an island… with such an obviously strong, serious man…Anxiety knotted in her stomach. She knew what men wanted in return for their help and protection. It was what she’d given the married, paunchy Guillermo in Italy, exchanging herself for a few meals and a paid hotel bill. It’s what she’d been doing since she was sixteen and Peri ran away, taking them both away from their aunt and Vern. It wasn’t something she relished or was proud of, the way she’d been living. But what choice had she had? She’d had no birth certificate, no social security number, no identity with which to procure a job.
When she was nineteen, she’d slept with a man who forged documents for her and Peri. But by then it was too late. She was uneducated and too far down the spiral of self-loathing to think of changing her life. She’d hopped from one destructive, manipulative man to the next, needing them as much as she hated them. They’d taken care of her- fixed her up with a place to live, made sure she and Peri had food, sometimes bought new clothes or trinkets for them. At first Peri had tried to bear the burden, making it clear that no one was to touch Chastity. But Peri was different from Chastity. Better. Meant for better things. She’d cried every time, which put her boyfriend in a bad mood, and he’d kicked them out. After that, Chastity had found a new benefactor behind Peri’s back. Without really saying anything or acknowledging the shift, Chastity became the provider, and Peri the protected. It didn’t really bother her, the sex. It was her day job. She didn’t like it by ANY stretch of the imagination, but it didn’t make her want to kill herself on a daily basis.
There were times, though, when it made her… tired. She’d be down on her luck, walking down the street, and some man would offer her a ride or a meal. And every time, every time, she’d accept without thinking, heart swelling with gratitude towards the good samaritan. Then when she’d eaten or they were about to drop her off, she’d see that look- that hungry glint that told her nothing comes free. She’d realize all over again what an idiot she was, and perform the obligatory services. She was feeling that now- that reminder that she was an idiot, that men were men, and that you can’t get something for nothing. Remembering the way she’d sought protection and shelter last night, she squeezed her eyes shut against the humiliation. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She chided herself. But then… she hadn’t seen him looking at her. He hadn’t taken advantage of the situation. Maybe he’s not attracted to me. Maybe I’m not his type. Maybe he’s gay! Her heart swelled with hope. Maybe he was just too tired to collect payment. She shot herself down.
Wishing to escape the despair of her mind and her situation, Chastity made sure she was out of sight of the camp and shed her clothes. They were stiff with salt and blood, and it felt good to take them off. Her cuts had scabbed over, but she could see a wide array of bruises dotting her pale limbs. She ran down the sand, into the waves, and couldn’t help smiling at the feeling of the warm water lapping at her sore legs. She dove under, rolled onto her back, marveling at the amazing blue-green clarity of the water. The sky above her was deep blue, white clouds drifting lazily across the wide expanse. I want to drift, like a cloud. From nowhere to nowhere.
She did her best to wash her hair, but she knew it would be dry and impossible with this salt water. She sat on the sand and tilted her head back to submerge her hair, then reached over and back to braid it under the water, where it was more compliant. It was getting quite long, her hair. Tony liked long hair. It was Tony, San Francisco artist, drug addict, and professional flake, who had paid for her plane ticket. He would be happy to see her, if she ever got home, and he’d never miss her if she didn’t. Only Peri would worry, would cry. She felt a pang of anguish over her sister, mourning her, missing her. She’ll have Peter to comfort her. Chastity frowned. What did Peri have to go and get a husband for, anyway? Just a long-term arrangement, the same as what she did, exchanging love for protection. Except Peri couldn’t just leave if Peter was nasty to her, or lost his job, or cheated without telling her. She was stuck.
Chastity didn’t know how long she drifted, thinking, but when she climbed out of the water she was on the other side of the island. The beach stretched up much higher on this side, wide and exposed. Naked, like her. She wandered across the sand, letting the sun dry her, until thirst prompted her to search for her clothes.
On the beach she found things washed up by the tide. Shells. Seaweed. Driftwood. A purse. A single shoe. Rounded glass pieces. She picked up a few large shells for holding food. She picked up the purse to carry the shells in. She put on the shoe, a large leather men’s shoe, to protect at least one foot from the sharp shells on the beach. A little farther along she found a flip-flop for the other foot. She tried not to think about the people these things had belonged to. She wouldn’t think about it, not now, not while she was fighting for her own survival. Later, when she was in the States, she would feel guilty for living. At the moment she would just do it.
Farther up the beach was older refuse- an old tire that she had to wonder about, various bits of trash, bones. Too small and fish-like to be human, she assured herself. They still gave her the creeps.
She soon found her clothes and reluctantly put them back on. It felt so good to be bare, free, and her clothes were scratchy and uncomfortable. But she shrugged them on and gladly exchanged the mis-matched shoes for her own canvas sneakers. She wandered back towards camp through the jungle, picking up a bunch of slightly brown bananas from the ground and collecting dry, dead wood.
Richard woke to see Chastity arranging fruit on a shell, humming a Beach Boys song. He sat up and squinted at the afternoon sun, his body sore and head heavy. “You’re up! Here, have some water.” She handed him the hollow gourd and he drank gratefully. “I made dinner… kind of…” she smiled in self derision and indicated the platter of sliced fruit.
“Thank you.” Richard flashed her a smile, accepting the large pink shell. “This shell is beautiful.” He observed.
“I think so, too. There’s a lot of them, on the other side. I thought they’d make good plates.”
“Good thinking.” Richard chewed slowly. “How’d you get bananas? I saw them, but they were too high up to reach.”
“They’d fallen to the ground… some of them were pretty rotten. I threw them back into the woods. Jungle, I mean. I don’t think we should keep much food here unless we want to attract animals.” She popped a large slice of mango into her mouth and half-closed her eyes with pleasure. “I love mango… but I never have them where I live.”
“And where is that?” Richard inquired.
“Where isn’t that would be a shorter list. For the last three months I’ve been in Italy. Before that…. Texas. Canada. Russia, for one very long week. London. California. France. And now… a desert island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.” Chastity laughed. Richard liked her laugh. “How about you? Where are your roots?”
“My family’s from Oregon, mostly. I was born in California. I’ve got family all over the states.”
“I always wished I had a big family… uncles, aunts, cousins… all those people, sharing your blood, sharing your memories.” Chastity smiled wistfully for a second before her expression turned rueful. “But as it turns out, I don’t want anybody sharing most of my memories. Wouldn’t inflict them on my worst enemy. So. You have a wife? Kids?”
“No. I haven’t really had the time for that. I started working for the government right out of college… hunting down bad guys doesn’t really leave a whole lot of time for romantic pursuits.” Richard laughed shortly. He’d sometimes regretted his lonely life, but that was how it had to be. Even if he’d had time for such things, getting married was just asking for trouble. His family wouldn’t be safe. They’d be his weak spot, something for criminals to exploit. “You?” he asked.
“Nope. It’s just me. I had a boyfriend in Italy, but…” she shrugged.
“Yeah, I kinda figured.” He nodded.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She frowned. Was it written across her forehead? “Men don’t commit to me!” in neon ink? What was it about her that made her so obviously not worth sticking around for?
“I- it’s just, if you’d been with somebody, you wouldn’t have been alone. On the plane.” Richard explained. She relaxed slightly, feeling silly. “Right. Of course.”
“So why’d it end with Mr. Italy?” He asked. Chastity bit her lip. I won’t lie about who I am. “He went back to his wife.” She said flatly, staring him down, daring him to judge her. His expression remained neutral. “They usually do, in the end. One of the downsides of dating a married man.” He pointed out.
Chastity shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” She stacked her plate and Richard’s and carried them down to the water to wash. She hoped, by fixing the fruit salad and washing the shells, to prove that she was useful. If she could pull her own weight, make this an equal partnership, then she wouldn’t owe him anything. He was big, it was true, but he seemed decent enough and chances were he wouldn’t force her. Not for a while, at least. Not until he got really desperate. Maybe I could cut off my hair. She fingered the long, stiff braid thoughtfully. Maybe I could get really sunburned… or scarred… But she knew that in the end, it wouldn’t matter. She was a woman and would always be vulnerable to the urges of men.
Richard pondered the possible meanings of Chastity’s beggar remark, taking into consideration the decidedly troubled expression in her eyes as she brought the clean shells back to the shelter. He noticed the way she glanced warily at him and met his eyes only briefly before looking away, ducking her head and quickly sitting down across the shelter. It made sense that she would be afraid of him. A young girl, all alone, trapped on an island with a strange man. But the logic of it didn’t reduce his frustration. He wanted to protect her, assure her that he’d never let anything happen to her, make sure she survived this. He didn’t know how to prove to her that he wasn’t a threat. Huddled in the sand, jeans-clad knees pulled up against her slim torso, she looked like a child. Revisiting her alternatingly cheerful and wary attitude, her reference to bad memories, her utterly un-upset mention of her married boyfriend, Richard could easily imagine that she’d been hurt by some man—many men, in all probability. He felt a swell of anger towards them, the faceless jerks who’d done her wrong. She looked so fragile and small, sitting there, drawing designs in the sand with one finger. Like a little bird too injured to fly to safety.
Chastity sat uncomfortably under his scrutiny, wishing she knew what he was thinking. Was he passing judgment? Sizing her up? Calculating how best to get into her pants? Weighing the pros and cons of killing her? Finally sick of feeling so knotted up, she raised her eyes from the sand and met his gaze steadily, blankly, until he blinked and looked away. “Is your arm hurting you?” he asked. She glanced down at the scabbed-over gash. “Not really.” She mumbled, although she was beginning to notice a hot throbbing from under the scab, and the skin around it looked red.
“Let me see.” He slid off his bed to kneel beside her, taking her arm in both of his large hands. Chastity tensed, ready to jump up the instant he made his move. But he just studied the scab, passing his fingers gently over the swollen skin. He was still shirtless, and as his breath wafted against Chastity’s cheek she became aware that her own breathing seemed unsteady. “This doesn’t look good.” He murmured, and Chastity noticed how his long black eyelashes curved upwards, like a child’s. “I’m gonna bandage it.” He decided out loud, glancing at Chastity to check for protest. She was speechless, caught off guard by the sunbeam that illuminated his eyes, showing off their brilliant emerald depths. He snagged his bag and dug through it, pulling out antibiotic ointment and a roll of gauze. The ointment felt soothing on her hot skin as he gently spread it over the scab. Chastity found herself wondering how hands strong enough to lift the huge branches holding up the roof and wrestle men to the ground could be so gentle.
Carefully, Richard wrapped her arm in gauze, then cut the bandage and tucked the end in. “I think you should take a couple aspirin, too. Just to be safe.” Chastity nodded, still wordless, and obediently swallowed the pills he handed her. She was at a loss to explain how she was feeling. It wasn’t the usual mixture of hatred and fear that she applied to all manly men. The intimidation was there, but it was mixed with something entirely new, a strange kind of fascination, a newfound appreciation of strength.
“What do you say we do a little exploring before it gets dark?” Richard suggested, shrugging into his shirt.
“Shouldn’t one of us stay with the camp?” Chastity asked uncertainly.
“I think it’ll be ok. Come on, I want to see if we can get up that cliff.” Richard pointed to the rocky outcroppings high above. “There might be better places to camp, up there.”
“Well… Ok. But let’s take the flashlight, just in case we get lost and it gets dark.”
“That won’t happen… At training school they used to call me the human GPS. But if it’ll make you feel better, bring it along.” Richard grinned.
Four hours later, they were hunting the bare rock for the way they’d come up in the wavering beam of the flashlight. “The human GPS, huh?” Chastity teased.
“Yeah, yeah.” Richard grumbled. “Don’t you worry. I’ll find the path.”
“Oh, I’m not worried.” Chastity sighed. “It doesn’t really make that much difference where we sleep. What does camp have that this hunk of rock doesn’t?” Her laugh was cut off by the eerie howl, this time followed by a chorus of chattering monkeys.
“A gun?” Richard suggested dryly. “Come on, let’s get going. I think it’s this way.” Chastity didn’t follow. She was frozen, her face pale. “Chastity?” She didn’t reply. “Fine, stay here.” Richard shrugged and turned. Instantly he felt her hands closing around his arm. “No, don’t leave me!” she choked out, her panic evident in every syllable.
Feeling ridiculously guilty for scaring her, he put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok. I was just kidding, Chastity. I’m not going to leave you.” He said sincerely. Chastity clenched her fingers around his arm as the howl came again. “Don’t leave me.” She repeated, whispering.
“Never.” He promised, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. She looked more like a child than ever in the soft glow of the flashlight, her eyes wide and irrationally fearful. “But we should try to-“ he swung the beam back over the rock—just as the light flickered and went out.