March 28th, 2013
Pitcairn Island
1
"Want to sleep with me?"
Face sweaty and flushed, Luke stopped in the middle of a sit-up, shocked before his mind replayed what she'd really said, what his male mind had misheard. "Want some company?"
The smile in her eyes made him look away. Her skin was evening out, weight finally coming up, and these awkward moments of tension were happening more and more as she recovered. "I've got more books if you're bored," he offered, finishing number eighteen.
He'd already done the 40 push-ups, Kendle forcing herself to pretend to be reading, but her eyes had stayed mostly on him and she wondered if he knew. "I'd rather get back in shape and that looks like it works."
LJ grinned at her, at the compliment, and she blushed, but didn't look away. He might be 50, but he wore the frame of a very healthy 35-year-old. "I mean it. I get out of breath just carrying our basket to the fishing hole. I used to be so…" she trailed off, eyes wistful as memories swirled over her, something Luke understood all too well.
"In the morning?"
"Yes. Thank you."
She dropped her eyes back to The Stand, the last book on his wall shelves that she hadn't read yet, but her mind was on leaving…on going home. She dreamed of it most nights that the ocean didn't claim her, of facing her terror and trying to get back. It made her stomach clench painfully and her spine look for a place to hide, but so help her, she really was considering the attempt. She wasn't pushing herself much and Luke wasn't pushing her at all, but she wasn't going to be content here for very long. She had to get healthy. Right now, she was weak, tired, and it would still be at least a month or two, on top of the seven weeks she had already spent here, but in that time, she planned to find a way back to America that didn't involve those awful waves that called to her…mocked her.
"Lotta hard words?"
Kendle looked down into his understanding face, thinking she might not go if Luke wouldn't come with her. Being alone was something she didn't ever want to face again. "I'm sorry?"
"You haven't turned a page. I thought maybe you were stuck."
She smiled sadly, closed the book of death and destruction with gentle, reddish-brown hands that her eyes lingered on. "It's too depressing."