The USS Ronald Reagan smoothly docked into port at Pacific Heart Island, located 100 miles off the coast of Australia. The crew was just granted a two-week shore leave after six months of touring. The Reagan was captained by Brock Rockford with First Officer Kiff Hanson ready to take over when ordered by the captain.
At this time, Brock made his way topside. Kiff spotted their captain and promptly called out, “Captain on deck!” The men immediately stopped any activity and stood at attention.
Brock stood in front of his men and admired the discipline they all displayed. He stood at an even 6 feet tall with short, straight dark brown almost black hair and dark blue eyes. His trim, athletic body, clad in the Navy white uniform possessed a prowess and agility from years of working out and the high demand of his job. For this wasn’t just any ordinary Navy destroyer with your standard naval crew.
He raised his right hand and shook his head. “At ease men. Honestly, ya’ll treat shore leave like it was a funeral.” The men laughed. They looked at him with admiration and awe. He presented a very commanding presence and stories of his efforts during past missions seemed almost like tall tales made up by boys who played with their toy soldiers.
“Hanson, I trust the ship to you in my absence,” he continued. “Enjoy your shore leave, men and remember, most ships never see this little old land of Australia, so live large, but don’t embarrass your country.” With his standard issue bag in hand, he moved towards the gangplank and made his way to the docks. He hailed a taxi and just before climbing in, he heard his First Officer yell: “Captain off deck! First Officer in command!”
He smiled and gave the hotel name to the driver. They’ll never learn, he thought to himself as the cab sped away.
The next week for Rosie was spent shopping on the mainland to replenish her wardrobe and find a dress for the wedding. Taking stock of the last two years of her life, she realized that it was filled with lonely days and nights. Once in awhile she did find someone to spend a week or two with but it was never what she was looking for. Her independence was necessary for the precautions she had to take. But it seemed that normalcy may be closer than she thought. Maybe now she would be able to stay in one place long enough and build a semblance of a life. However, just in case, a name change wouldn’t hurt.
Coming back from her last shopping excursion from the mainland, she found the supplies she ordered from Ginger waiting for her. She smiled and made a mental note to send her something special once she got to Pacific Heart Island. While at the desk she asked that another charter plane be reserved for her the following day and also that a Lear jet was available at the airport for her trip to the island. She chuckled silently to herself as she made these plans. Any other time she would have taken the cheapest flight possible sacrificing comfort for cost. But now with her newfound wealth, she didn’t want to miss out on the finer pleasures of life.
When asked about a car rental, she replied, “Yes, and please see that it is a convertible.” Once her plans were finalized, with a big grin on her face she finally headed back to her room and began to pack.
Taking dinner in her room and relaxing in a long hot bubble bath, she called the front desk and requested a wake up call, then turned in early for the night.
DING! “Ms. Smith, we’ll be arriving at Pacific Heart Island in 20 minutes.”
She pushed the intercom button and replied back to the captain. “Thank you, Captain.”
Rosie looked out one of the Lear’s windows and saw the island to the left. It looks just as beautiful as the last one, she thought.
The steward came from a small alcove and approached her. “Will there be anything else you’ll need, Ms. Smith?”
“No, everything was simply delightful. Thank you.” She smiled.
“You’re welcome. You may want to buckle your seat belt since we’ll be landing shortly.”
“Yes, I will, thank you.” She smiled at him once more and turned towards the window.
The plane landed smoothly, the trees and vegetation passing quickly from the distance. Once the plane stopped, Rosie stepped off and found a metallic gray Porsche Boxer convertible waiting for her.
A couple of porters loaded her suitcases into the car’s trunk. She turned to the small crew and thanked them once again for the flight. Equipped with directions, she made her way to the hotel.
Driving up the windy road, Rosie was once again awe struck at the beauty of the island. The lush vegetation was as bright as emeralds and the scents from the various flowers were delightful to the senses. From the distance the hotel was seen up ahead.
Adam and Charisma are very lucky to have found such a paradise for their nuptials, she thought. I wonder if anyone else is here?
She pushed down on the accelerator and drove towards the new heaven.
Rosie pulled up around the hotel driveway and was immediately surrounded by bellboys. She started to laugh.
“Gentlemen, please. I don’t think I have a lot of luggage for everyone to carry.” She popped open the trunk, got out of the car and handed the keys over to the valet. She walked into the hotel followed by a bellboy with a cart of her things.
She stopped dead in her tracks as she looked around the lobby.
Enormous stained-glass doors opened into the spacious lobby. Marble columns support the high glass ceiling as sunlight filters down through the hanging plants and vines. Tropical trees are scattered around, decorated with tiny white lights. A beautiful fountain takes center stage of the lobby. Flags of all the prominent world countries surround a marble statue of Atlas, who was holding a bronze globe in his arms as water flowed from his mouth. Pink and blue floodlights illuminated the statue, sending sparkles of light across the splashing water. Wicker chairs and love seats furnished with velvet-covered cushions surrounded the fountain. To the right are eight crystal elevators and a sweeping staircase with plush red carpeting and brass handles. Across the rear of the lobby are three wide arches, each leading to a distinct part of the hotel. To the left was the check-in counter, continually staffed with courteous employees in crisp red uniforms. Rosie turned and made her way there.
“Hello. Rose Smith. I’m here for the Vagner/Taylor wedding.”
“Yes, Ms. Smith. We have you in room 750. We hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Yes, I’m sure I will.” She took the key cards from the friendly woman and followed the bellboy to her room. Upon reaching it, her bags were unloaded to the side. She tipped the young man and began to unpack, deciding to go exploring later on.