After one of the longest, most tension filled nights of his life, Alan finally managed to drift off well after midnight, but sleep was neither lasting nor satisfying. Adding to his discomfort, when he awakened before dawn, he discovered that he had a slightly scratchy throat in addition to his overwhelming weariness.
His hand moved to his throat, rubbing and probing it with his fingertips, feeling surprised that he had become ill. He had never been sick a single day on the island, and had attributed it to the fact that there were no people around from whom to catch viral infections. Wondering if it was the lingering after-effects of the emotional day he had shared with Ellie or perhaps a bacterial infection picked up somewhere in the wilderness, he reached for the bottle of water he kept on the bedside table and took a long drink. It was room temperature, but the wet warmth of the water soothed his raw throat, somewhat. Replacing the cap on the bottle, he returned it to the table, casting a glance at the clock. The illuminated numbers revealed the time as five o�clock. The first hint of light would peek over the horizon within the next fifteen or twenty minutes, and the first glimpse of the sun would arrive over the watery coastal horizon shortly after five thirty before it finally rose over the mountain ranges a short time later.
With additional sleep out of the question, he arose and dressed in the dark. Because he intended to get into the garden early, before the sun heated up the temperatures, he chose to skip his morning shower and wear the same clothing he had worn the day before. After he came back in, he would then take his shower and put on clean clothes.
Fully dressed, he pulled back his drape and stepped out of his cubicle, but paused briefly beside the drape that covered Ellie�s door, listening for any sound, any indication that she was awake. He heard nothing behind the drab curtain, so he proceeded downstairs to the kitchen and flipped on the overhead light. The abrupt glare made him squint, and he yawned with the desire for more sleep.
Moving to the corner of the countertop where the coffee maker was located, he put on a pot of coffee. Moving his hand to his throat again, in a useless attempt to ease the painful scratchiness that continued to linger, he leaned against the countertop, waiting, and wishing for a newspaper. The lack of a morning newspaper was one of the worst things about his isolation on the island. He was aware of the events that were occurring on the rest of the planet through occasional radio reports, but the detailed accounts found in the newspaper were sorely missed. Idly, he wondered if it was possible to find Montana newspapers such as the Billings Gazette or the Great Falls Tribune somewhere in Costa Rica. Deciding that was not likely, he more realistically wondered if Miguel could come across one of the larger newspapers, like USA Today or the New York or LA Times. It might be a few days old, given the travel time involved, but he would have to remember to ask Miguel next time he placed a supply order.
When the coffee was ready, he poured a cup and took a sip, then grimaced as the hot liquid scalded his sore throat.
�Ahh, damn!� he muttered, hoarsely.
It was way too hot to be soothing, so he set it aside to cool as his eyes traveled around the kitchen, attempting to decide what he wanted for breakfast. At the moment, though, he was so uncomfortable about the prospect of facing Ellie that it seemed to have robbed him of his appetite. How would she react to seeing him? Would she be cold and resentful, or would she be embarrassed? Most importantly, would she demand that he send for Miguel to carry her off the island?
He moved to the pantry and scanned the boxes of cereal, but grimaced inwardly at the thought of forcing dry cereal down his sore throat. He turned away from it and opened the refrigerator, his eyes scanning the foods that were kept there. Nothing appetizing was coming to mind.
He closed the refrigerator, then wandered to the back door and opened the solid door to gaze out through the protective bars. It was twilight outside now and he could easily see his garden waiting for him, but the sun had not yet risen over the mountains in the distance.
Slipping his arms through the bars, he folded his arms around them, as if embracing them, and leaned his forehead against the cold steel, his heart and mind in turmoil as his thoughts returned to Ellie, her startling request and the incident that had almost occurred during the night. Things did indeed look different in the light of day, as the saying went, and he felt a tremendous relief that he had resisted the temptation to accept her proposition. He only hoped that Ellie would feel that relief, as well. He sighed heavily, understanding that his existence on the island could possibly be very different from that point forward, regardless of Ellie�s decision to stay or remain. Tension between them could make life very uncomfortable.
Daylight continued to advance, and the first rays of sunlight peeked over the mountains and illuminated the plants in the garden, reminding him of the work that needed doing. With his sore throat, he was not looking forward to spending time in the dirt and pollen, but he knew that neglect would cause them to stop producing. Deciding that he should just go on out to the garden and get it over with, he fished his key out of his pocket, inserted it in the keyhole of the barred door and pushed it open.
He was locking the bars behind him just as Ellie came around the corner into the kitchen. Although the angle was such that she could not see him from her position, she heard the key in the door, and realized that he had gone outside, unaware that she was up.
A feeling of immense relief washed over her. She was thankful that he had gone outside, for she wasn�t ready to face him yet. Mortified by her behavior the night before, she dreaded that inevitable encounter. What must he think of her?
Her eyes fell upon the coffee pot. The glass bowl was full of steaming brew, so she took a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a full cup. As she sipped on the hot liquid, her eyes traveled from the coffee pot to the stove, where Alan had cooked dinner the night before, when she had been too distraught to even think about cooking or eating. He had left spots of soup on the range without wiping them up. Obviously, his concern for her had outweighed everything else, and he had either forgotten or simply neglected to wipe them up.
No matter; it would give her something to keep her hands busy.
She took another sip from the coffee mug then placed it on the counter beside Alan�s mug, wondering why he had not finished it. She went into the laundry room and picked up the bucket that was in its usual place on one of the disabled driers. Using the key he had provided for her, she opened the bars and stepped outside. In the clean fresh air, she paused briefly, her eyes irresistibly drawn to Alan as if of their own accord, and she observed him for several moments as he worked among his vegetables. What will he think of me? her conscience asked again, repeating that question that had been asked over and over since awaking.
Turning her attention back to the cleaning, she dipped up a nearly full bucket of water from the rain barrel. It was heavy, but she felt tremendous satisfaction in her ability to lift it and carry it inside. That was much more than she had been capable of doing a few weeks earlier. Her strenuous workouts were paying off.
Setting the heavy bucket down on the floor, she locked the bars again, and then, wrapping both hands around the handle, she lugged the bucket back to the kitchen. It bumped against her knee once and water sloshed over the rim onto the floor, but she managed to reach the stove with no additional accidents.
Lifting the bucket high enough to fill the kettle was another matter, and she was forced to use a pot to make the transfer. Then she turned on the fire under the kettle. While it heated, she mopped up the water she had spilled on the floor, then removed one of the loaves of squash bread from the freezer and placed it near the stove to thaw. Spread with butter, it would make an excellent breakfast.
When the water was heated, she had to wait for it to cool enough to handle, then she poured it back into the bucket. Using the water, some cleaning fluid, and a sponge, she wiped off the dried and crusted soup from the stove, then cleaned all the drip bowls, and wiped down the inside of the oven. While she was in a cleaning mood, or more appropriately while she needed something to keep her hands busy, she removed the canned and packaged goods from the pantry and wiped down each linoleum covered shelf before replacing the items.
The water in the bucket was now brownish with grime, so she lugged it to the back door, unlocked the barred door and pushed it open. After she returned the key to her pocket, she turned to pick up the bucket. As she lifted it, she gave it a mighty heave, noticing out of the corner of her eye that a shadow had moved directly in front of her. Realizing what it was, she made a futile attempt to check her swing, but she was totally committed. The water sloshed in a huge arc out the back door, and she heard the splat of it striking the ground . . . and something else.
She turned slowly to face the dripping wet paleontologist, on whom she had just ejected the entire bucket of water. From his stunned expression, she realized that he had gotten it full in the face. His hair was plastered against his head, and the front of his shirt and trousers were soaked.
They stood there for several silent moments staring at one another, Ellie with her hand clapped over her mouth in a curious combination of amusement and horror, Alan with his jaw drooping open in apparent shock, water pooling at his feet.
Finally, Ellie was able to stifle her laughter no longer. She giggled. �Oh, Alan! I�m sorry! I tried to stop, but I was already in the middle of my swing before I realized you were there!�
�I saw the door open, but by the time I realized what you were doing, it was too late to get out of the way. I started to shout a warning, but the water was already in the air and I knew I�d get a mouthful if I tried to speak,� he told her, feeling the hilarity that was bubbling up inside him as he gazed down at his drenched clothing. Ellie was still giggling uncontrollably, and he knew he probably looked quite comical. �I wish I could have seen this from the other side!�
�I wish I could have seen it, period!� Ellie retorted. �I was turning away just as I threw the water!�
They both burst out laughing.
�What was in this water, anyway?� Alan asked, curiously, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. He lifted his arm to his face and sniffed his sleeve. �Smells like pine cleaner.�
�That�s exactly what it is! I cleaned the soup off the stove that you spilled last night, and then cleaned the oven and the pantry shelves. In case you�re wondering, the water was brown when I tossed it out!�
�You just have to pass along that little bit of information, didn�t you?� he asked, still grinning broadly. �So basically, you�re telling me that I�m wearing spilled soup and oven grime with a little pantry dirt thrown in for good measure, is that it?�
She nodded, relieved that he had responded to the incident with good humor. The brief thought, what would Mark have done? was quickly banished to the back of her mind. Mark was dead; there was no need to concern herself about how angry he would have been, and that knowledge left her feeling strangely liberated. It was behind her, now, and the future lay ahead, and she was ready to embrace it. �That about covers it, except that it was a lot of pantry dirt!�
�Well, I guess I really need a bath, now. You know, the water is still warm. In spite of the filth, it actually felt pretty good! I had almost forgotten what it feels like to immerse myself in warm water.�
�Oh, what I wouldn�t give for a hot bath!� Ellie exclaimed wistfully when their laughter died down again. �I think it�s the one thing I miss most about civilization.�
�Yeah, me too,� he agreed, then reiterated, �If I could figure out a way of heating the water upstairs, I�d do it.� He shrugged, and mused, �Maybe a bonfire in the extra shower stall . . .�
His expression and his words were so serious that it took a moment before she realized that he was kidding. �Don�t get my hopes up like that!� she scolded.
�Sorry. Well, I guess I�d better get cleaned up.�
Responding to his words, Ellie moved backed from the doorway to allow him room to enter, and with a smile she noticed the aroma of pine cleaner that lingered on him as he moved past her. Then, her eyes fell to the floor, and saw the trail of mud and the puddles of water that he left behind. With a sigh, she took the bucket back outside and scooped up enough water from the rain barrel to mop the floors, but she didn�t bother heating it this time, since there was really no need to sterilize it.
Freshly washed and dressed in clean clothes, Alan came back downstairs and joined Ellie in the kitchen as she was slicing big pieces of squash bread, but instead of moving up beside her, he walked to the other side of the stainless steel preparation table so that it separated them.
�We don�t have any eggs or bacon, and I didn�t want cold cereal today, so I thought we�d just have some of this squash bread for breakfast,� she explained.
�Fine,� he answered, watched as she spread butter generously on the top of each slice.
A fleeting, uncomfortable glance was exchanged between them as she pushed his plate toward him, then she went to the coffee pot in the corner and poured herself another cup, but it seemed to Alan that it was a convenient excuse to place some distance between them. She leaned her back against the counter top and stared into the dark liquid inside her cup, trying to muster the courage to clear the air.
Even though he wasn�t very hungry, Alan picked up his fork and took a bite of the squash bread. It was still delicious, even cold, but his sore throat made swallowing almost as uncomfortable as the sudden silence that had settled over them. He knew that his face was warm with a slight fever, but made no comment regarding his illness.
Finally, refusing to meet his gaze, Ellie said, �Alan, about last night ��
�Ellie, I�m sorry if I hurt your feelings,� he interrupted as he put down his fork again, hoping to smooth out any ill feelings before she could tell him she wanted to leave the island. �You know I would never, ever do anything that would deliberately hurt you. Your friendship means too much to me. It�s just that ---�
She raised her hand, stopping him, but her gaze was fixed so intently on her coffee cup that she appeared to be speaking to it instead of him as she said, �I know all that, Alan. You don�t have to explain. I value your friendship too, and I�m sorry I put you in that position last night. You were right to stop it before it went any farther. I would have felt terrible this morning. And you were right about my vulnerability. I didn�t want to believe it, but it�s true. I needed to be comforted last night, and I was channeling that need into the wrong place.� Finally, her eyes lifted to his face. �Anyone else would have taken advantage of that, and I appreciate your good sense and self-restraint.�
He looked so relieved that she almost smiled in response to it. �I was afraid that things would be different between us, now; that we would be uncomfortable around each other,� he admitted.
She paused briefly, thinking about that. Were it someone else, it might have been true, but not with him. �I feel more comfortable around you than with anyone else,� she said.
�I feel the same way about you.�
�You were wrong about one thing, though,� she continued. �I wouldn�t have hated you. I could never hate you, Alan. Even if you had not resisted last night, it would have been my fault because I encouraged it. I practically begged you to do it, and I would have hated myself for allowing it to happen too soon. I would have felt like I was betraying Mark and the kids, and I thank you for your self-restraint. After being on this island alone for seven months, it couldn�t have been easy for you.�
�You have no idea,� he said, softly. He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and admitted, �I�m really not the Rock of Gibraltar that you think I am. I really wanted you last night. You have no idea how close I came . . .� His voice trailed, and he picked up his fork again, directing his attention back to his breakfast to refrain from revealing to her the fact that had she been awake when he had gone to her cubical, the end result might have been very different.
She lowered her gaze to her coffee cup again, feeling ashamed by her behavior, yet she could not deny the thrill she felt by his admission that he wanted her. �I feel like some kind of seductive temptress, leading you on like that. I�m sorry.�
�I�ll get over it.�
�Still friends?�
�Forever.�
He wanted to go to her, to put his arms around her in a friendly embrace, but knew that he would be tempting fate if he did, so he firmly stood his ground on his side of the preparation table.
She seemed to feel the same way, for although her eyes and her expression were affectionate, she continued to maintain her distance when she asked, �What are we going to do today?�
He looked rather skeptical. �You were pretty upset yesterday. Maybe you�d rather take it easy for a few days and just read a book, or something.�
�You mean take the time to pull myself back together,� she said, speaking the words he had avoided saying. �No, I want to get back to work. I really do,� she added vehemently in response to the doubt she saw on his face. �I�m not going to fall apart on you again, I promise. Sitting here brooding about the accident is exactly what I was doing at home all those months. I�m all right, now. I�ve come to terms with it, and I�m ready to go back to work.�
Still he hesitated, obviously concerned that she would break down again while out in the field. �Well, if you�re sure.�
�I�m positive. Alan, it�s behind me, now,� she insisted. �I�m ready to move forward.�
�Okay, then I guess we�ll head out and see what we can find.�
When they had finished eating their squash bread and finished with the coffee, they placed the dishes in the sink and turned off the coffee pot, and gathered up their gear in preparation of going out into the wilderness again.
The grass in the sunny yard of the compound was sparkling with dew when Alan and Ellie emerged from the dormitory after breakfast and made their way into the jungle in search for research subjects. As usual, they carried in their backpacks their cameras, bottles of water, and sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap to eliminate the need to return to the dormitory for lunch.
Alan had often said that the most exciting discoveries were the ones that were stumbled upon by accident, and that was how things unfolded that day. While proceeding through the jungle just before noon, they heard the unmistakable sounds of a large animal in an adjacent clearing. Not knowing what species it was, they stopped to investigate.
�Wait here,� Alan told her. Quickly, he shed his backpack for greater mobility and laid it down on the ground, then pushed his way carefully through the fronds until he found the source of the sounds.
There, in the large open space beyond, a Parasaurolophus stood near the protection of a high bluff. They were a common dinosaur on the island, and its presence alone was not remarkable. Its activity, however, was very significant, and caused Alan�s heartbeat to step up with excitement, for it was a sight he had never witnessed before. Usually seen standing on its rear legs, this one was on all fours. It had scooped out a circle in the soft earth against the bluff, and was crouched over it. He watched, fascinated, as an egg was deposited inside the circle.
Moving quietly, Alan hurried back to his pack and unzipped it. �It�s a Parasaurolophis, and she�s laying eggs!� he told her, excitedly as he shoved his hand inside the pack for his camera. �I want you to take your camera, and follow the path I just made through the ferns. I�m going around to the other side to get a different angle. Be very, very careful not to disturb her.�
Ellie nodded, excitedly, �Okay,� she whispered.
Then, with camera in hand, Alan left the backpacks on the ground and made his way through the undergrowth toward the clearing, approaching it from the other side.
Following Alan�s instruction, Ellie retrieved the other camcorder from her backpack, and crept quietly through the fronds toward the clearing and stopped, just inside the line of heavy foliage. It was a large area, almost completely open except for the scattered trees that provided enough foliage to prevent much sunlight from filtering through the canopy. The dinosaur was a considerable distance away, so she lifted the camcorder to her eye and adjusted the zoom lens to the appropriate setting and began recording the remarkable event.
When the last of the eggs, surprisingly small for a creature of that size, had been carefully deposited in the nest, the Parasaurolophus used its duckbilled mouth as a shovel, scooping dirt and rotting vegetation into a mound over her eggs, much like the crocodilian species of modern times. The compost would heat up and incubate the eggs.
After the nest was sufficiently covered, the dinosaur did not move away to feed, but remained nearby. Ellie realized that it was resting and guarding its eggs. Intrigued, she continued to watch as the creature returned repeatedly to the nest as if to reexamine it. Occasionally, it made minor adjustments, adding a bit more compost to the heap.
Alan shut off his camera and made his way back through the jungle to his backpack. When he reached it, he paused briefly to examine the camera, determining how much tape was left, then he stopped to pick up the canvas backpack. Ellie had not yet returned, so he returned the camera to the pack, then placed it on the ground again and started to turn back toward the direction she had taken.
At that moment, he was struck from behind without warning, a blow so hard that it knocked the breath out of his lungs and sent him plunging onto his face on the mossy ground. Spread-eagled, he lay still for a moment, stunned, as he struggled to force air back into his lungs. For several panicked moments, he feared he would suffocate before his lungs finally expanded enough to allow a grateful gasp. After drawing several deep breaths, that sensation of panic began to ebb.
Pain numbed his battered body as he rolled over onto his back and stared into the treetops overheard. Sitting on a low branch directly above him, a large parrot tipped its head from side to side, watching him curiously out of each eye.
�What are you staring at?� he asked.
The parrot fluffed its feathers as if offended by his query, and returned to its preening.
Hearing an angry snorting sound, Alan lifted his head to face his attacker. With no surprise, he saw that it was a Pachycephalosaurus, sometimes called a "headbutter", because of its curious habit of using its head as a battering ram to knock adversaries off balance. It was a bipedal herbivore with a thick sturdy neck and a skull protected by nine inches of solid bone, not one of the giants, but large enough to do serious damage. He had been totally unaware that the animal was in the vicinity.
The animal backed away several paces, staring at him with an intimidating posture that told Alan it was preparing to charge at him again. He only rarely encountered the strange creatures, but he knew that although generally harmless, they were very aggressive if they felt threatened.
Remaining calm, Alan lowered his hand to his belt and fumbled with his shock prod. As he started to withdraw it from the loop on his belt, the Packy lowered its head like a Billy goat and charged at him. Alan cringed, waiting for the impact that never came. It had been a false charge, rushing at him for several steps, then stopped and backed off, unable to tilt its head to the proper angle to strike the man effectively as he lay flat on the ground. It snorted and shook its domed head, angrily, as if frustrated that the man wasn�t interested in a fight, then it opened its beaked mouth and uttered a challenge.
Realizing that it was unable to get a good angle to do sufficient damage to him, Alan pressed his body flat to the ground, making as small a target as possible as he began working the prod from its loop again.
�Alan? What�s going on over there?� Ellie�s voice drifted through the foliage.
�Stay back,� he warned. �It�s just a Pachycephalosaurus, but it�s in a very bad mood.�
She approached cautiously, making her way through the foliage, but stopped while still inside the cluster of ferns to assess the situation. Alan lay flat on the ground, keeping a wary eye on the dinosaur, and she saw that he was slowly working the prod from its loop. The animal was clearly agitated, as evidenced by its aggressive posture. Each time Alan moved even slightly, the animal�s muscles flinched, preparing to charge again.
�Alan, be careful,� she advised. �It looks really mad.�
�Tell me about it,� he agreed.
The Packy flinched nervously at the sight and sound of the woman. Its mouth opened again, and it uttered a warning cry. One clawed foot scratched at the ground.
�I�ll distract it while you get the shock prod loose,� she suggested.
�Be careful, Ellie,� Alan cautioned. �It means business.�
�So do I,� she replied, keeping her voice calm, determined that it would not detect fear in her voice, even though her heart was pounding wildly as she faced the angry creature. Remaining inside the foliage, where she could dodge behind a tree if it charged her, she circled slowly to her left, drawing the animal�s attention away from Alan.
It snorted again, and its eyes followed her, providing ample time for Alan to free the shock prod and activate it. Trying to ignore the pain in his back, he struggled to his feet, a movement which drew the animal�s attention back to him. It lowered its head to charge, but Alan moved toward it to minimize the effect of the impact, meeting the attack with the shock prod extended at arm�s length. As it neared, he delivered an electrical shock to the front of the animal�s shoulder. With a cry of pain and surprise, it veered off to one side and came to a stop a short distance away, where it observed him with a great deal more respect.
For several moments, Alan and the Packy faced each other, each staring into the eyes of the other like two poker players trying to bluff, waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, the peculiar creature seemed to decide that it would be prudent to withdraw, and it moved away into the brush.
Alan and Ellie both watched as the creature disappeared into the foliage, then Ellie turned toward Alan, noticing that his hand was pressed against his back, just right of his spine.
�Alan, are you all right?� she asked, placing her hand gently over his.
His back had begun to hurt terribly where the dinosaur had struck him. "I now have first hand knowledge of what it feels like to be butted by a Pachycephalosaurus,� he told her. �The little ripper knocked me clean off my feet,� he added with just a trace of the accent from his New Zealand homeland.
Trying to make light of his discomfort, he lifted his arm to return the shock prod to its loop, but the simple movement caused his back to cringe with pain. He struggled to maintain a neutral expression, intending to withhold the intensity of the pain from her, as he pushed the prod back into place. It would fade, in time, he told himself.
A frown etched Ellie�s brow, watching him carefully enough to see through his charade. "You may have some broken ribs," she told him.
"Maybe," he admitted.
�I think we should go back to the dormitory,� she suggested.
He nodded. �Yeah, okay. We got some great footage today. What we saw today has never been witnessed by humans before, as far as I can tell from the notes left behind. All the dinosaurs in the lab were created by the researchers, not by nature, so this is a major scientific discovery. Think of it, Ellie. We�re the first people ever who have witnessed this!�
�Forget the research for now, Alan,� she told him. �We need to make sure you�re okay before we do anything else.�
He started to bend over to pick up the backpacks from the ground, but stopped short when he felt the pain increase in his ribs. With a mild exclamation, his hand went to his back again.
Ellie saw the hesitation, and bent to pick them up. �I�ll carry them,� she told him when he reached for one.
�Ellie, I�m fine. Really,� he insisted.
�I�ve got them,� she said, firmly, refusing to release her grip on them.
He shrugged, relinquishing the items into her care, and they started back to the compound. It was slow going, for in spite of Alan�s attempts to convince Ellie that he wasn�t hurting that badly, she could tell that he was in a great deal of pain simply by his slightly rigid torso as he walked and the fact that his hand kept discretely moving to his back.
When they reached the dormitory, Ellie took her key from her pocket and inserted it in the lock, and pushed it open, allowing Alan to enter first.
As she placed the backpacks at the foot of the coat and hat rack, now conspicuously absent of Alan�s familiar fedora, she said, "We should call Miguel, and have him come to get you. You should have that looked at. If your ribs are broken ---"
"You know there�s really nothing that can be done for broken ribs, anyway. They�ll just take X-Rays, and tell me to take it easy for awhile. You can wrap them up for me. It�ll be fine."
She shrugged at the truth of his logic. "They could give you something for the pain," she reminded him as she locked the door behind them.
"It isn�t that bad," he assured her.
"Yes, it is," she contradicted. "I can see it in your eyes."
He looked away, as if to prevent his eyes from betraying him further. "I�ll take some aspirin if it gets too bad."
"Has anyone ever told you that you�re as stubborn as a mule?"
He smiled. "I�ve been called worse."
She sighed with the futility of trying to reason with him. After several moments of silence, Ellie took his arm. "Let�s go upstairs and wrap up those ribs, just in case."
He submitted to her firm pull on his arm, permitting her to lead him up the stairs to the bathroom, where she placed him on a utility stool in front of the large cabinet marked "First Aid". She opened the double doors on the first aid cabinet, and looked over the contents. As expected, it contained outdated bottles of aspirin and Tylenol, plus unopened boxes of band aides, rolls of bandages of varying sizes and iodine. Curiously, it contained an assortment of syringes. Below the cabinet was a small refrigerator, so she opened it to see what was inside. Inside it were dozens of small drug bottles.
"This thing is really well stocked," she told him. She reached out and picked up a small bottle to look at the label. "Look at this: They even had morphine and penicillin, both oral and injection."
Alan had already seen the contents. "They were prepared for almost anything," he said.
She selected a roll of wide bandages from the assortment. �Take off your shirt,� she instructed.
With obvious difficulty, he slowly peeled off his shirt, exposing his injured back.
Ellie couldn�t suppress a painful �Ahhh� as she observed the injury. "Alan, you have a bruise here the size of a small watermelon."
"I�m not surprised," he said. "It knocked the wind out of me."
"You�re very lucky. That thing would have broken your back if it had hit you just a little more to the left." As gently as she could, she probed the injury with her fingers.
He winced, drawing away from her touch, and he sucked his breath in through his teeth with a hissing sound.
She nodded, affirmatively. "I suspect you have at least two broken ribs, Alan. I wish you would reconsider and call Miguel."
"Nah, it�ll be all right. We�ll wait awhile, and if it gets worse, then we�ll call him."
She glanced at his face, doubtfully. "Is that a promise?"
"I promise."
"All right, then." She opened the cellophane wrapping on the bandages. Placing the end against his abdomen, she said, "Hold this here."
He pressed his fingers against it, holding it against his skin, while she wrapped it tightly around his torso. When she estimated that it was enough, she anchored it with safety pins, and returned the unused portion to the first aid cabinet and closed the doors.
"That�s pretty tight," he told her.
"It�s supposed to be tight to support those ribs."
He nodded. "Yeah, I know. It�s just a little uncomfortable."
"It�s going to get even more uncomfortable when you try to sleep tonight," she warned.
He had experienced broken bones before, and knew that was probably true. He remained on the stool for several moments, his hand pressing lightly against his back. Drawing a deep breath was becoming extremely painful, and made even more difficult by the tightness of the wrapping.
Ellie was watching him carefully, scrutinizing every indication of pain. �You weren�t aware that it was in the area?�
�No, I wasn�t. All right, from now on, we won�t separate like we did today. That way, we can watch each other�s backs."
"You�re not going out for awhile," she told him, firmly. "I mean it, Alan. If I have to tie you to the bed, you�re staying put until those ribs start to heal."
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he sought to alleviate her worries by joking, "That might be interesting ---"
She whacked him hard on the shoulder with her hand, a loud crack against his bare skin, and he was surprised to realize that she was not joking. Then, upset with herself for striking him, she covered her face with her hands, and wept silently.
He stood up and placed a comforting arm around her waist, and drew her close. "I�m sorry, Ellie. That was thoughtless of me. I promise I�ll take it easy for awhile."
She put her arms around him, and wept softly on his shoulder. "I�m sorry I hit you. I don�t know what came over me. First the Rex, and now this. The thought of losing you just tears me up inside."
Now is the time, said a voice inside his head. Tell her now. Tell her how you feel about her! "It�s all right," he said again, ignoring the voice.
She drew back, gazing into his eyes through the veil of tears that filled her own. "Forgive me?"
"There�s nothing to forgive," he assured her.
Finally, she wiped the tears from her face with an angry swipe of her hand, as if annoyed that he had seen her cry again. "I need to go downstairs and see if I can find anything to fix for supper," she said, shortly.
"Don�t go to any trouble," he said, rubbing his hand gingerly over the bandage that was wrapped tightly around his torso. "Just fix sandwiches or something simple. I�m not very hungry right now, anyway."
"Okay." She started toward the door, then stopped to look back at him. He had made no effort to follow her. "Are you coming?"
He managed a smile, but his lips appeared thin, as if they were pressed tightly together. Ellie knew that he was suppressing pain. "I�ll be along soon."
She nodded. "Okay."
As soon as she had disappeared through the door, he gripped the edge of the sink and grimaced from the pain he had been holding inside in her presence.
Later, as dusk was beginning to fall, Ellie opened a can of Spam and sliced it, then placed the slices in the frying pan. While they browned, she placed four slices of bread in the toaster. Then, she watched the Spam sizzle and pop in the pan. When one side was browned, she used a fork to turn the meat to the other side. She had always wondered what was in the curiously tasty canned meat, but had never dared to look at the ingredients. Some things were better left alone.
When the sandwiches were ready, she placed them on a tray along with two cans of soda and the bag of potato chips, and carried it into the living room, where Alan was waiting on the sofa.
She paused in the doorway to observe him with a worried frown. He was leaning back so far that he was almost reclining, his head resting on the back of the sofa, eyes closed. His hand was at his forehead, his fingers rubbing the skin as if nursing a headache. He was obviously not feeling well.
"I hope you like Spam," she said, putting forth a cheerful front as she entered the room.
He opened his eyes and watched as she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of him. "I like it fine," he replied, but he made no effort to rise.
She was watching him as she pulled the wing chair closer, and sat down, noticing that he seemed reluctant to move. "Alan, I wish you would let me call Miguel."
"I�ll be okay," he told her with a trace of impatience.
She glanced at him, sharply, resenting the harsh tone to his voice, but she made no comment, understanding that it came from the fact that he was in more pain than he was telling her.
He immediately regretted his impatience with her. In response to the sharp glance she gave him, he added, "I�m sorry if I sound sharp. I know you�re just concerned, but if I feel I need a doctor, I�ll let you know."
She was clearly dissatisfied with his answer, but there was nothing she could do to change his mind, so she did not try.
Slowly, concentrating intently on keeping his facial expression from revealing his pain, he pulled himself into a seated position, and reached for the sandwich. She noticed how carefully he moved, and although he tried to conceal it, she could see the pain in his eyes. Windows to the soul, her mother had always said. He had successfully kept his expression immobile, but he could not hide the agony in his expressive blue eyes.
She bit back the request again, knowing that it would do no good to keep asking him for the phone. He was a stubborn man who insisted on doing everything his way.
Tense silence permeated the room as they picked up their sandwiches, but Alan ate with little enthusiasm. Finally, after only a few bites, he dropped the rest of it back on the plate.
Her brow puckered with worry. "Didn�t you like the sandwich? Could I fix something else?�
He shook his head. "It was fine. I�m just not very hungry." He sighed, heavily. "I think I�ll go on up to bed."
With worry in her eyes, she nodded. "The rest will do you good. The doctor gave me some pain pills after my surgery, and I still have some. Do you want me to get them for you?"
He shook his head. He just wanted, needed, to be alone. "No. If I need it later, I�ll let you know."
"Don�t hesitate to wake me up if you need me," she urged.
"I will," he promised.
Careful to keep his expression neutral, even though the effort was almost more than he could bear, he pushed himself up from the sofa and rose to his full height, although he would have preferred to bend sideways at the waist in an effort to lessen the pain. Without looking back at her, knowing she was watching him, he left the room. He had withheld it from Ellie, but he was feeling quite ill.
In the foyer, safely out of her line of vision, he leaned on the banister post and briefly allowed the pain to surface in his face and his posture as his hand sought out the ribs that he was certain were fractured. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against his arm, which was draped across the rounded top of the banister post, and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside.
Finally, when the pain did not ease, he made his way slowly up the stairs before Ellie saw him there. He went directly to his cubical and began to undress. The process was agonizing, and he moved slowly and carefully in an effort to minimize the pain. He managed to get the shirt off, but gave up on the idea of removing his jeans. He did not think he could successfully bend over far enough to get them off, so he lay down on his bunk, his arm draped across his eyes, as if shielding his agony from anyone who might see.
He knew Ellie was right; he should see a doctor, but he also knew that once off the island, she would attempt to prevent him from returning. Better that he not leave at all, if he could avoid it. There would always be time to see a doctor later, if the pain worsened or persisted. Six weeks was the average length of time for broken bones to mend but he felt he should be able to move about freely in two or three weeks, if he was careful.
He shifted his weight, seeking a more comfortable position. Lying on his back was placing his weight directly on the broken ribs, so he shifted slightly to his left. Not much better, but he doubted that he could find a position that relieved the pain completely. He would just have to live with it for awhile. If it became worse, he could accept one of the painkillers that Ellie had generously offered.
He was still awake when he heard her move quietly into the room. The curtain rustled slightly as she parted it to peer inside at him. He did not move, allowing her to think he was asleep. Apparently satisfied that he was resting at least somewhat comfortably, she let the curtain fall back into place, and moved to her own cubical to prepare for bed.
He listened while she undressed, and heard the sheets rustle as she lay down. Love for her filled his heart, love he had never declared, love he was not sure he could ever declare, even though he knew she had always wanted to hear it. If he had spoken the words before, she never would have left him.
With that thought in his mind, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Go to Chapter Twenty