Page 44 of Dearly Departed

“Anything, kitten.” She curls into me and holds on tight. “Anything. For as long as we both shall live.”

13

CATHERINE

As tired as I am, I can’t sleep. The rain is a constant reminder that storms never last very long, so I could be wasting the best time to travel. It might let up before I can leave, and then I’d just be out there with no rain.

Although…the rain might not help me as much as I want it to. It comes down in thick sheets, drumming on the roof. I couldn’t see the other side of the clearing when the sun was out. Raymond Harris won’t be able to see me in the storm, but I won’t be able to see him, either. The entire island will be made of white noise.

Then I can’t sleep thinking about how Raymond Harris might be one of those people who likes being out in the rain. I’ve never wanted to be caught in a rain shower. I like to go inside well in advance. I had a lot of practice avoiding the rain in London, obviously. I didn’t know many people there who willingly went out in the rain. Is it a mistake to assume that Raymond Harris doesn’t like the rain, either?

And then there’s what might be between us and the radio tower. If it is a radio tower.

It has to be. Right? There is a secret cabin on this island with a radio tucked into a cabin, and if that radio doesn’t work inside the cabin, it has to work somewhere else.

It has to.

Jacob tosses and turns. It’s still very dark when we give up and turn the candle back on and make our plan.

The plan is simple. Most of the plans people make when it’s not even dawn yet are probably pretty straightforward.

I will take the booklet and the radio in its case—Jacob thinks the box thing is a battery of some kind, or something to strengthen the signal, and neither of us wants to risk the trip only to find out the radio doesn’t work at all without it—as well as one of our knives, my perfume, and a towel to dry my hands with. I’ll use the compass to find the tower, which is northeast of us. We don’t know exactly how far it is, but it’s probably not far.

Once I’m there, I’ll wait for a break in the rain—or, if God really does exist and is on our side—I’ll arrive at the moment the rain stops. I’ll see if the radio works any differently by the tower. I’ll try the codes. If someone answers, I’ll tell them we need help. I’ll hope they know which island I’m talking about. Then I’ll return to the cabin.

And then⁠—

I don’t know. If nobody answers, I’ll go back to the tower at the same time the next day. And the day after that.

Unless something else happens that would prevent me from going.

Jacob hates this plan. He gets out of bed three times and attempts to prove that he’s strong enough for a stealth hike by pacing in circles around the cabin. The first time, his knees give out before he’s gone a full loop. The second time, he makes it two loops, but he has to keep his hand on the wall the entire time. The third time, he passes out, and it takes all of my non-weightlifter strength to get him to the floor without hitting his head on anything.

I can tell he wants to fight again, but the argument isn’t going to change. We can’t wait indefinitely. The canned food in the cabinets will run out, or Raymond Harris will find us, or—who knows. We could try waiting until Jacob’s more recovered, only…

I don’t know if he will recover on the island. He’s barely eating. I’d thought—hoped—that the things he said about eating when he was sick didn’t have any real meaning.

They do, though. I know they do. I also know that Jacob doesn’t want to talk about it. I know he’s subsisting on bites of soup because I’m here with him, and I keep bringing it to him, and he said he’d do anything.

It’s not a long-term solution. Neither is staying on the island. We finally agreed, both of us too wired to sleep, that I should leave before the sun comes up. We reassure each other more than once that the sun will rise, and that’ll make it a little easier to see.

I dump everything out of my bag and put things back in one by one. The radio case. My bottle of perfume. The steak knife, which I separate from the radio case with the rolled-up towel. My phone. An ACE bandage from the cabin’s first-aid kit. A few bandaids. Antibiotic cream. Half a bottle of water. The radio is heavy enough on its own. I don’t want to get so weighed down by my stuff that I can’t move.

Getting back to Jacob quickly is my third-highest priority after summoning help and surviving the walk.

Once that’s set, I get dressed in dry socks—not that they’ll stay that way—a pair of leggings, and a tank top. I pull my hair into what I’m starting to think of as my plane-crash bun, which is not a good name for it. The final piece of my uniform is my packable raincoat. I bought it on a trip we took to Scotland one weekend. It had rained the entire time. It wasn’t the kind of thing I wore in London, though, and especially not in the winter. I must’ve thought about taking it out of my bag a hundred times.

I’m glad I didn’t.

The booklet with the map goes into one pocket. The compass goes into the other along with a packet of rice.

Jacob looks me over. He tucks some loose strands of my hair into the hood of the rain jacket, reties the string under my chin, and takes my face in his hands.

Then he leans down and kisses me. It’s soft at first—anguished, I think, and promise myself I won’t think of Jacob in anguish anymore. At least not until I get back. He shouldn’t have to feel like that. My husband is a good man who loves me. If I told him he deserved the world, he wouldn’t believe me, but he at least deserves to feel safe and happy.

I press closer to the familiar strength of him, my arms going to his neck. He kisses me harder. My jacket makes a soft swooshing noise against his skin. Jacob hasn’t put a shirt on yet—for the scratches, I think. I wish I could dress him in armor. That would be horrible, though. He would be so uncomfortable.

Jacob breaks the kiss with a soft sound that I pretend not to hear. He keeps his hands on my face and looks into my eyes like it’s the last time he’ll ever see me. The flameless candle isn’t very bright, but it’s better than nothing.