Dana Mentink - Force of Nature

Father God, help me.

It was dark now, and a spatter of rain had begun to fall. Her ears rang with the sound of the ocean. Ahead she imagined she saw a light. Had she gone farther than she thought? Was it the light from the old hotel? A boat? With a final burst of energy she fought her way toward it until her arm came into contact unexpectedly with something soft and pliable. She grabbed at it, but her fingers slipped loose.

Then a hand took hold of her wrist, and she felt herself being towed along. Poor light and the spray of surf and rain made it impossible to see who was dragging her along, but she knew it did not matter anyway. Staying in the ocean meant death. She tried to kick her feet and help her rescuer, but her legs had become so cold and numb she was a helpless weight.

Then there was a boat. Cold metal. Calloused hands reaching down. Strong arms holding her up. Wind teasing goose bumps onto her skin. A familiar old man plucked her from the ocean, leading her to a seat and wrapping a musty blanket that smelled faintly of trout around her shoulders.

She was shaking so badly that her vision blurred. Blinking hard and clamping her jaw shut to keep her teeth from rattling, she shook the hair from her face and looked into the broad cheekbones, the full lips, the chin with a scar and those eyes that held so many secrets. Reuben Sandoval stood on the heaving deck, water dripping from his cropped hair, molding the T-shirt and shorts around his lithe body.

She was too cold to feel surprise, shock, dismay or any other emotion. It was as if she had landed in a strange dream and the only functioning part of her body was the part that said, Thank You, God, that I am alive.

Reuben knelt on the deck and looked intently at her, as if he were trying to convince himself what he saw was real. He said something in a voice so low she could not hear it over her chattering teeth. He reached toward her, and for a brief moment she felt a combined terror and longing. Instead of embracing her, he pulled the blanket more firmly around her shoulders.

Then he took the captain’s chair next to her and asked Silvio, the old man whom she recognized, to take them back.

Back where?

To the mainland where her small battered house waited?

To the dock where she remembered suddenly she’d left her art supplies?

To Isla Marsopa, she realized through her confusion.

To the island where her heart had been torn apart by a storm fiercer than any hurricane.

* * *

Reuben should have felt deep shock at finding it was Antonia Verde he’d just fished out of the Atlantic Ocean, but for some reason, he felt more confusion than anything else. Antonia was never far from his thoughts or his memories in the year they’d been apart. Reminders of her lingered in the warm sand where they’d hunted for shells. They survived in the crisp air that made her hair dance across her laughing face and the Florida sun that bronzed her perfect skin. He’d known she’d returned; he’d heard as much from his brother.

Hector kept it simple. The little traitor is back, Reuben. Look out.

Mia had energetically sought to destroy his brother and excuse her own mistakes by accusing Hector of attacking her, forcing her to defend herself. Upon Mia’s release from jail, she’d taken Gracie and run, leaving his brother desperately missing his little girl. Reuben suspected that Antonia knew perfectly well where her sister was holing up and was probably even helping her. Still, the sight of her shivering, clutching the blanket around herself as if it were some sort of armor, twisted his stomach. The traitor, the lush-lipped, silk-skinned traitor who killed him on the inside, still charged his body with a rush of feeling.

“I need to go back to the mainland,” she said, after a few stuttering attempts to speak.

“Too dark,” Reuben said.

She looked as though she wanted to respond, but the shivering turned into full-on trembling and she hunched deeper into the blanket.

Fine by him. Silence was probably the better of many options that would lead to angry words. Again. Curiosity burned inside him and he longed to question her, but instead he helped Silvio tie up to the dock after they fought the waves back to Isla Marsopa. Silvio helped Antonia out, and Reuben followed them into the main house, where a light shone in the lower level.

Paula met them in the lobby. Her red hair had long ago faded, overcome by gray, but her eyes sparked in her tan face. “Antonia Verde?” She blinked with recognition. “What happened out there?”

“Let’s get her something warm to drink,” Reuben said, temporarily staunching the explanation that he, too, was eager to hear.

Reuben gestured toward a wooden chair and fetched another blanket as Paula heated some water for tea. He was relieved that they hadn’t lost power yet. The generator had been fussy and he hadn’t had time to tinker with it.

Paula wrapped a nubby wool blanket around Reuben’s shoulders and handed them each a cup of hot tea. Antonia clutched hers with both hands, delicate fingers cupping the mug and holding it close to her chest.

“Gotten yourself into more trouble, I see,” Paula said. “And dragged Reuben along.”

Antonia looked up, and a tiny flash of spirit returned to her features. Reuben felt a swell of relief and something else deep in his core.

“I didn’t ask for anyone’s help,” Antonia said.

Paula sniffed. “Reuben isn’t the kind to let a person drown, even if that person is an enemy.”

Antonia stiffened. “I’m sorry to cause trouble.”

Gavin came in, a pack on his shoulder. “I was ready to head back to the mainland, but I couldn’t find you....” He broke off when he saw Antonia. “Who are you?”

“Antonia Verde,” she said through chattering teeth.

Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. “Here I thought you were trying to get people off this island, Mr. Sandoval.”

Reuben would have laughed in different circumstances. “Storm’s worse. You’ll have to bunk here for the night, Gav. I’ll take you back at first light.”

Gavin shrugged. “Sure thing. One more of Paula’s meals will make it worthwhile.”

Paula’s face broke into a rare smile. “You’re a flatterer, Mr. Campbell.”

“My grammy says flattery will get you nowhere, but I find it usually scores me a second piece of pie.”

Reuben worked out a plan. “Paula, can you get the Seabreeze ready? It’s the only bungalow that’s relatively decent.”

“If that’s what you want,” Paula said. “Mr. Campbell, set the table for dinner, please.”

Gavin sighed. “If I could only convince her to call me Gav.” He set about plopping silverware haphazardly on the oval dining table.

Paula gave Antonia a final glare and went out, Silvio following.

“Thanks, but there’s just no way I can spend the night here,” Antonia said.

“Unless you’re going to swim back, I don’t see much of a choice for you.” Reuben kept his tone level. “What happened?”

She avoided looking at him. “I swam out too far.”

“I got that. Who was on the Jet Ski, and what did he want with you?”

She sipped tea without seeming to taste it. “I don’t know. I think he might have been sent by a guy who followed me from the airport earlier. He was watching me from the beach, so I thought I’d swim up the coast and avoid them both.”

Two guys? He felt a tightening in his gut. “Why are they after you?”

Antonia put the mug down on the antique trunk that served as a coffee table, her hands trembling. “Like I said, I don’t know. It could be just my imagination.”

It was unlike her to be guarded. “Better call the cops.”

Antonia shook her head, sending droplets of water through the lamp-lit lobby. “It’s nothing. Probably a misunderstanding.”