“Thanks, you’ve all been more than generous.” Amelia backed out of the kitchen and raced up the stairs.
Once safely back in her room, she looked around quickly and found it still empty. She reminded herself of Hugh’s certainty. He’d managed to keep them alive so far.
She set the juice on the table along with the crackers and lowered Joshua to the floor. Once he was steady on his feet, she rose… and looked at the bottles again. What was it about them that niggled at her? She traced the label…
And as if a bomb had gone off in her brain, she remembered those crates in the back of the van. Surely plenty of people had crates of it stocked in their pantry, especially on a remote island where supplies had to be shipped in and groceries were limited. It had to be coincidental that brand was exactly the same that had been stacked in their kidnappers’ van.
Chewing her lip, she watched Joshua playing on the rug in his new borrowed clothes. Another “coincidence” snapping into place. Her T-shirt here with its touristy lettering looked so very close to the one Joshua had been given in the hospital. Again, it had to be a fluke, all these connections between here and the hospital where they’d been kidnapped.
And if it wasn’t just a quirk?
Her eyes shot to the balcony doors. Hugh couldn’t return fast enough.
***
If she kept her eyes closed, Lisabeth could almost convince herself she and her husband were in a car, at home, cuddling romantically by the seashore.
In reality, they were still on an earthquake-ravaged island in the Bahamas. Given the shortage of private places to sleep, they had opted to bunk outside the hospital in the back of a church van that no longer ran, thanks to the telephone pole that had landed across the hood. Aiden had pulled out the seat and spread two bedrolls in the back. The windows were tinted. It felt like their own private nirvana.
She rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, exhausted, but hungry to hang onto the peaceful moment. God only knew what tomorrow would hold. The smell from the pine air freshener dangling off the rearview mingled with the clean bleach scent of the bedrolls brought in by a humanitarian group today for the volunteer doctors.
Aiden stroked along her arm. “I’m sorry Major McCabe didn’t have more reassurance for us.”
She’d been so hopeful the air force officer might point them directly to Joshua and Amelia after one of the nurses at the hospital later remembered him visiting. They hadn’t found out anything during their first visit to the other hospital, due to all the rotating staff. But information had worked its way back to them later.
There was some comfort in that, even if it didn’t bring all she’d hoped for. “I’m relieved to know Joshua and Amelia have someone so well trained in survival looking out for them.”
He turned her head ever so slightly until she had to look him in the eyes. “You do understand they must have been taken? They may not even be al—”
“Shhh…” She placed her hand over his mouth. “There’s no need to say it. I’m not delusional. I realize the state of things. But I also know that they made it through the earthquake and that for the first time in days, I have real hope. Let yourself have that too.”
He kissed her fingertips. “For you.”
His mouth against her skin felt so good and familiar in a world gone insane, she ached for more. Sliding her hand around, she urged him closer until her lips met his.
The bedroll rustled in the dark interior as he shifted to be closer, carefully cradling her face in his palms, deepening the contact.
Deepening the moment.
She needed this, needed her husband. She gripped his surgical scrubs tighter, pulling him to her. Or rather, she tried to, but he held back.
“Aiden, it’s dark. We’re alone. I need you.”
“I need you too,” he said, kissing her gently.
So gently she wanted to tug his hair and scream in frustration.
“I won’t break, you know.”
“What’s wrong with wanting to be tender with my wife?”
“Aiden, you’re an amazing lover, generous, and you have the most talented surgeon’s touch.” She kissed each of his long fingers to punctuate her words. “You know I’m a satisfied woman. I just want to make sure you’re as happy… As completely happy as I am.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
She squeezed his hands harder, her fingernails digging in half moons. “You are not your father. And you don’t have to make up for what he did every single day of your life.”
He rolled away from her onto his back. “It’s not that simple.”