a long time he lay without moving, listening to the silky rush of air through the she-oak needles. Finally he fell into a deep sleep permeated by scented, elusive dreams.
Wind gently rocked the tent, making the enclosure expand and shrink as though breathing. Sun poured in a thick triangle of brilliant yellow light through the half-open front flap. Mandy stirred, stretched and smiled before she was fully awake. The soft sounds of wind and sea were a lullaby she hadn’t heard for two years, soothing and renewing at the same time. Her stomach growled, disturbing her contentment. An instant later memories came – a long flight in a big plane, a shorter flight in a smaller plane and a timeless period of hell trapped in a tiny plane suspended over an endless sea.
Mandy sat upright, her heart pounding. The prosaic canvas ceiling assured her that she was no longer flying. Floor, walls, sheets, mattress. A tent. But where? Vaguely she remembered the auctioneer saying something about Sutter’s Australian vacation not being a tour of luxury resorts.
You will be sleeping in a tent.
Well, that explained it. She had finally arrived at her destination, whatever and wherever that might be. Now, was she supposed to cook and eat the tent as well as sleep in it? A single look at the faded canvas floor checked that particular flight of fancy. Perhaps the mattress….
As Mandy looked down to measure the mattress’s potential edibility, she realized that she was wearing almost nothing. She couldn’t remember undressing the previous night. In fact, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the previous night at all. Frowning, she tried to calculate how many hours she might have lost. The angle of the sunlight streaming into the tent suggested either midmorning or midafternoon. She looked at her wristwatch before she remembered it was set for California, not Australia. She had no idea how many time zones she had crossed. She did know that she had crossed the international date line, which meant she had flown into tomorrow. Or was it yesterday?
Sighing, Mandy decided that it didn’t matter. She was on vacation, so she must be having a hell of a good time, if only she could remember it.
Think.
The last thing she remembered was gratefully getting off the plane at a place called Bundaberg, whose location in the greater Australian geographic scheme of things was still a mystery to her. She knew the town was close to the ocean, because the little plane had turned immediately on takeoff and had been out over the water very quickly.
Sudden sweat bathed Mandy’s body as memories returned. A little white plane waiting. Sutter’s eyes green and narrow and furious, totally indifferent to her terror. His shocking strength as he boosted her into the plane and strapped her down with the seat belt. A rush of ground, a sickening leap into air, pure cold terror exploding. Waiting to crash. Praying to die in the crash this time. Waiting. Praying. And then a low, comforting voice, an encouraging touch, Sutter’s strong hands lifting her out of terror. Safe. Finally safe, gentle strength and blessed darkness descending.
Comforting voice? Encouraging touch? Gentle strength? Sutter? Lord, I must have been hallucinating!
And then the rest of the memories came. She had embarrassed herself in front of Sutter, revealing her weaknesses and carefully hidden fear of small planes, the sea, boats. Humiliation swept through Mandy in a red tide that went from her toenails to her scalp. Had she really told Sutter to go to hell? And had he really said that she was the one who would be comfortable there?
It’s dry and there’s not a pair of wings in sight.
Oh, yes. It definitely had happened.
Mandy put her flaming face in her hands. She wanted to crawl beneath the sheet and hide forever. It was bad enough to know that she was a coward; to have others know it was unbearable. And to have Sutter know it was unspeakable.
Her stomach growled again,
Wind gently rocked the tent, making the enclosure expand and shrink as though breathing. Sun poured in a thick triangle of brilliant yellow light through the half-open front flap. Mandy stirred, stretched and smiled before she was fully awake. The soft sounds of wind and sea were a lullaby she hadn’t heard for two years, soothing and renewing at the same time. Her stomach growled, disturbing her contentment. An instant later memories came – a long flight in a big plane, a shorter flight in a smaller plane and a timeless period of hell trapped in a tiny plane suspended over an endless sea.
Mandy sat upright, her heart pounding. The prosaic canvas ceiling assured her that she was no longer flying. Floor, walls, sheets, mattress. A tent. But where? Vaguely she remembered the auctioneer saying something about Sutter’s Australian vacation not being a tour of luxury resorts.
You will be sleeping in a tent.
Well, that explained it. She had finally arrived at her destination, whatever and wherever that might be. Now, was she supposed to cook and eat the tent as well as sleep in it? A single look at the faded canvas floor checked that particular flight of fancy. Perhaps the mattress….
As Mandy looked down to measure the mattress’s potential edibility, she realized that she was wearing almost nothing. She couldn’t remember undressing the previous night. In fact, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the previous night at all. Frowning, she tried to calculate how many hours she might have lost. The angle of the sunlight streaming into the tent suggested either midmorning or midafternoon. She looked at her wristwatch before she remembered it was set for California, not Australia. She had no idea how many time zones she had crossed. She did know that she had crossed the international date line, which meant she had flown into tomorrow. Or was it yesterday?
Sighing, Mandy decided that it didn’t matter. She was on vacation, so she must be having a hell of a good time, if only she could remember it.
Think.
The last thing she remembered was gratefully getting off the plane at a place called Bundaberg, whose location in the greater Australian geographic scheme of things was still a mystery to her. She knew the town was close to the ocean, because the little plane had turned immediately on takeoff and had been out over the water very quickly.
Sudden sweat bathed Mandy’s body as memories returned. A little white plane waiting. Sutter’s eyes green and narrow and furious, totally indifferent to her terror. His shocking strength as he boosted her into the plane and strapped her down with the seat belt. A rush of ground, a sickening leap into air, pure cold terror exploding. Waiting to crash. Praying to die in the crash this time. Waiting. Praying. And then a low, comforting voice, an encouraging touch, Sutter’s strong hands lifting her out of terror. Safe. Finally safe, gentle strength and blessed darkness descending.
Comforting voice? Encouraging touch? Gentle strength? Sutter? Lord, I must have been hallucinating!
And then the rest of the memories came. She had embarrassed herself in front of Sutter, revealing her weaknesses and carefully hidden fear of small planes, the sea, boats. Humiliation swept through Mandy in a red tide that went from her toenails to her scalp. Had she really told Sutter to go to hell? And had he really said that she was the one who would be comfortable there?
It’s dry and there’s not a pair of wings in sight.
Oh, yes. It definitely had happened.
Mandy put her flaming face in her hands. She wanted to crawl beneath the sheet and hide forever. It was bad enough to know that she was a coward; to have others know it was unbearable. And to have Sutter know it was unspeakable.
Her stomach growled again,
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