The serene calmness of the blue waters ended abruptly as the intense sound of a car slamming into a concrete wall at sixty-miles an hour broke through the silence. Except the car was a plane, and the water played the concrete. The single-engine plane’s clear windows clouded as it hit the water at a slight angle, tearing off the right wing and making an accordion out of the nose. Shards from the propeller flew back cracking the front shield and striking the pilot. Lucky for him though, the window slowed the fragment down some, turning the would be fatal blow into a strike that only left him dazed and close to unconsciousness.

The Cessna’s passengers, a man and a woman, were also dazed and suffering from cuts and contusions. The man took the brunt of the injuries, due to his gentlemanly nature, which caused him to shelter his companion. However, the rushing water left little time to be devoted to their wounds. The man acted quickly, without regard for his pain, and released both himself and the woman from their harnesses.

"Hold your breath, Rachel," he said just as the water reached their throats. As the water closed in around them, it released the pressure around the hatch door, allowing it to be opened. Rachel made her way out, fighting to reach the top before her burning lungs gave out. She made it to the surface, gulping for air and desperately searching for her rescuer.

"Carl," she screamed, turning round to see the water bubble, then break as Carl reached the surface. "Oh Carl," she cried, grasping her arms around his neck.

"It’s all right, Rachel. It’s okay. Are you hurt?"

"No, I don’t think so. Carl, where’s the pilot?"

"In the plane," he said flatly.

"We have to get him," she said, attempting to dive back under. Carl tightened his grip, keeping her above water.

"It’s no use, Rachel," he soothed her, "He didn’t make it." Carl paused a moment to let the news sink in before asking if she thought she could swim. Rachel nodded yes. "Come on then, shore’s this way."

The darkness surrounded Rachel both inward and outwardly. The night brought coolness to their new island home, drawing her closer to Carl. She felt him in her sleep, felt the warmth radiate from him, beckoning her. The heat felt wonderful to her frightfully cold body. The swim had left her weak and devoid of heat. Rachel had tried to shiver, and in her sleep, the effort felt momentous; but in reality, she barely moved. She then inched closer to Carl, finally seeking out his comfort.

He felt her forehead press against his chest, felt her arms draw up, and sensed her legs as being barely a breath away from his. Carl opened his eyes to her thick brown hair. He glanced about her, smiling at her attempt to get closer to him as she continued to distance herself. Carl shook his head as he carefully pulled his damp jacket over her shoulders.

"You only let me come so close," he whispered, marveling at her. "When will you see I only wish to love you?" He couldn’t help but smile at the picture she made. Except for her forehead, she lay as close as one could to another without touching. What a sight, he thought, still staring at the woman curled beside him. At least this part of the bargain hadn’t changed; at least she was still with him.

Even if they had made it to Tahiti, and were alone in his house with food and dry clothes, Rachel would likely have been curled up in her bed while he slept in another. But why dwell on ifs. Rachel was here, safe and sound in his arms. Wherever here was. Carl concluded that they couldn’t be far from Tahiti. The pilot said the trip should take about three hours, and they’d been flying for over an hour when they crashed. Carl hoped that meant this island was near a trade route. If the ships sailed by it, they could be rescued by the morrow. He let that thought, as well as the sight of Rachel sleeping peacefully, sooth him back to sleep.

While Carl clung to his hope, Rachel fought to find some. She still couldn’t shake the deep cold she believed reach right into her soul. It was the chill of a guilty conscious, the one thing Rachel had too much of. She knew being with Carl was perfectly rational. She also knew she had every right to involve herself with him if that was what she wanted. She wasn’t betraying Mac or her children. Just because Mac was dead, didn’t mean she had to die too. She had a right to live, to love again, even if that love was for Carl. That’s what she told herself. What she couldn’t understand was why it didn’t make her feel any better about wanting Carl. What she couldn’t rid herself of were the images of her angered children. And, worst of all, what she couldn’t get out of her head was the thought that she was allowing herself to do something she would quickly regret.