I sat back, put my hands behind my head and stopped when the wound in my shoulder complained. Then the painkillers slipped in and the pain was gone. For the first time in a day or two, I felt normal. Maybe because, of Margaret a bit better than normal. Thinking of her reminded me I hadn’t dressed. A shrug and a grin solved that problem.
But after several hours as the sky began to darken Margaret hadn’t joined me. I climbed down into the cabin, quickly donned clothing, and went to the sleeping chamber. Margaret was missing.
Thinking she was in the tiny bathroom named the john, I ate and drank. As I completed the bottle of ale I found in the refrigerator, the boat shifted as if something heavy had dropped onto the upper deck. Anxiety built quickly in my chest as adrenaline’s flame fired through me.
Not for the first time since arriving, I longed for a weapon. A quick search of the cabin provided a heavy wrench. With that in hand, I carefully climbed up and rose slowly enough to peer over the edge of the deck. There I saw Margaret with her feet dangling over the side of the boat. She was wearing a red bikini so small as to be nearly invisible. The material it was crafted from shimmer as she moved making it appear alive.
As I approached her, I thought I saw a tendril of smoke curl away from her head. A chill raised the hair on the back of my neck and I hesitated.
“Hi,” I said hearing doubt in the word so it really sounded like a question.
She glanced back blue eyes not quite right as if her pupils were no longer round and there seemed to be a ring of red-gold around their edges.
She smiled and shook her head and patted the spot alongside her. “Sit with me.”
Feeling oddly apprehensive, I did but when I examined her face and eyes up close, everything appeared normal. She placed her arm around my waist and her head on my shoulder. The feeling of attraction that kept growing in me swelled and I used my arm to hug her against me.
Strange illusion, I thought and questioned if it was an illusion or something else entirely. What the hell is this place? Where did Attrea’s owl send me and why? I bit back the questions I wanted to ask Margaret, which was who are you really? And why were you exactly where I landed after the storm? Coincidence? Or for some unknown reason planned?
She leaned and kissed my cheek gently, lips soft and warm. I turned enough so our lips met and the questions I had for her dissolved into forgotten memory.