Rachel slept away the evening, sleeping away her anger, but not her fear. Her eyes opened, immediately seeking out Carl. She looked up the beach, then down, but still couldn’t find him. Then she felt the guilt again. Not the guilt of running off with her late husband’s enemy, but the guilt of feeling responsible for said enemy’s likely demise. Wasn’t that a twist of events? Inside Rachel’s head swirled vision after horrible vision of animals with excessive amounts of teeth attacking Carl, or him being trapped in a cave, or falling off a cliff, or being bitten by snakes, or, or…the list of possible deaths were endless. A few years ago, she might have laughed at the prospects her mind dreamed up, but now she could only clench her fists in a desperate attempt to squeeze each one from her mind. The past was the past. Rachel knew that Carl might have spirited her off to an island then, however she came by way of this one willingly. And, no matter her stupid outburst this morning, she knew she cared for Carl very deeply, perhaps even deeply enough to call it love.

"Whoa," Rachel caught herself, "let’s not let a little guilt go that far." The thought was there though, and try as she might, Rachel couldn’t make it go away. Love Carl? Could she? Did she? She was very upset about his disappearance. She did feel responsible for it. And she was beside herself with worry over his well-being. All that added up to concern though, not love. Yet, he did make her happy. Just being near Carl did make her feel more alive, even her heart pounded in a different rhythm around him. Rachel laughed at her latest disclosure.

"Great, Rach, figure out you’re in love with a guy now that he’s probably dead." That was just like her. Why was it always her prerogative to fall for a guy the minute she thought she lost him? "Maybe it just takes losing him to realize it," she thought, suddenly seeing a pattern. It was that way with Mac, then Mitch, then Ken, and now with Carl, who was out there being dinner for wild animals, and it was all her fault.

"Way to go, Rachel," she scolded herself. "Great. Now what?" Rachel got to her feet initially to resume her pace, but instead changed her mind and headed towards the trees. "Animals or no, he’s got to be in here somewhere," she thought, searching along the edge of the brush and palms. A flutter about five paces away caught her eye. On examining the movement, Rachel found a piece of grayish material similar to the scarf Carl wore. She didn’t remember seeing him tear apiece off, but then again, she wasn’t really paying attention to his actions when he left. She decided to follow her hunch and stepped into the wooded area. Sure enough, there about ten feet away was another grayish piece of cloth tied to a shrub.

"All right, Hutchins, you better be a little hurt," Rachel murmured, still feeling a bit miffed. She walked along the thick, leafy makeshift path dodging limbs and carefully watching for slithering animals, which might mistake her for a meal. All the while, she tried to concentrate on positive thoughts about Carl. She visualized his eyes and made herself focus on what shade of brown they were, or even if they were really brown at all. Maybe black suited them better, or coal. Yes, coal black eyes that were rich and warm and alluring. With the problem of that idea solved, Rachel turned her thoughts to what it

was that drew her to such a man. He was mysterious, and passionate, and very engaging. It was if he quieted rooms with just his presence. Yet he made her feel like the center of his universe. That, of course, was where the danger lay. When Mac made her feel that way, she never questioned his intentions, but Carl’s past forced her to question his.

"That’s what got me into this, all the questioning," Rachel remembered. She knew she could doubt Carl for as long as she wanted, but that wasn’t being fair. He had kept her whereabouts a secret, and he had proven himself to her again and again. He even gave up the reputation of his father for her. What more did she want from him; the guarantee that he wouldn’t turn out like Ken? That couldn’t be drawn up and signed to paper. That was the risk of love. Carl made it so easy to fall in love him, too. That horribly romantic ability of his to pull poetry from the air was like food to a starving soul.

"Okay, okay, so maybe he does love me," Rachel finally admitted to herself. "And maybe I love him, but love’s not big on the agenda right now," she concluded, smacking a branch out of her path.

"What are you muttering about love?" she heard a voice off her right-shoulder say. Startled, Rachel turned round to see Carl lying in pile of dirt and leaves.

"Carl! Where have you been," Rachel shouted, running towards him.

"Pretty much right here," he managed to chuckle.

"What are you laughing for now?" Do you know how worried I was?"

"Rachel, dear, please don’t get all riled up…"

"All riled up! Excuse me, but I think I have a right to be ‘all rile up’ since you pulled another one of your vanishing acts."

"It wasn’t as if I planned it, Rachel," he said gesturing toward his shirt. Catching her anger, Rachel scanned his body, finally noticing his tattered and dirt-caked clothing. The sleeve on his left shoulder was torn with brownish-red stains splattered about the cloth. There was also a thin line of dried blood streaming along the side of his face.

"Carl, you’re hurt."

"It’s just a scratch," he said, moving his hand over the wound.

"No it’s not," she said, moving his hand away and taking a closer look. "This looks deep. What happened to you?"

"Oh, nothing, I survived a plane crash and then tried to get myself killed climbing a hill."

"What?"

"I got about half-way up that hill there before I lost my footing. I must’ve hit a stump or something, seeing that that I knocked myself out for a while."

"Oh, Carl. How long have you been awake?"

"Not sure, hour or so. Maybe more. Maybe less. Been slipping in and out mostly. Tried to move once, but my leg felt like it was coming off," Carl grimaced as he tried to move his right leg. Rachel examined his swollen limb, careful not to touch him.

"It doesn’t looked broken, at least I don’t see a bone sticking through. Maybe it’s just sprained. Matthew sprained his ankle once and couldn’t stand for it to be touch for days."

"I can understand that."

"I think that I should wrap it though, to help the swelling." Carl winced at the mere thought of the idea.

"What about wrapping the head wound and leaving the ankle until morning?" Rachel gave it some thought, and decided to not pick a battle with him now.

"Sure, do you still have enough of the scarf?" After gently brushing away what dirt she could, Rachel tenderly wrapped Carl’s head with the remains of the cloth. "That’s not too tight, is it?"

"No, no, feels fine," he said a bit too lightly for Rachel’s taste.

"Carl," she said, shaking him.

"I’m all right, love," Carl muttered, "just a bit tired."

"You can’t go to sleep, Carl. You might have a concussion. Stay awake okay."

"Are you hungry, love?"

"A little, why?"

"I think if you walk over there, you’ll find a banana tree. Might have some fruit on it." Rachel followed Carl’s gaze, noticing a thick bunch of green bananas hanging from a tree.

"Promise me you’ll stay awake," she said, rising from him.

"I’ll never drop my eyes from your figure," he promised. Rachel left him reluctantly, but knew that food was as important to their survival as his staying awake. She went as quickly as she dared to the tree, and after a few attempts, managed to knock down a bunch.

"Look what I have," she smiled, returning with her prize.

"Good girl," Carl grinned. "Let’s feast," he said, slowly moving to prop himself against a nearby log. Rachel broke one banana and peeled it with some difficulty.

"I don’t think this is going to be like those at home," she said, feeding Carl a portion of the fruit.

"Anything from you fingers will taste even sweeter," Carl replied.