Live Long and Prosper              by: Brandy Dewinter             © 2000, All rights reserved

 

Chapter 2 - "Forbidden Food"

"That was one of the least pleasant social occasions I’ve ever experienced," I whispered to Lainey as soon as we were back on the path.

"I know," she whispered back. "And I think it was another ‘odd’ thing about this place. She was just too . . . cliche to be believed."

I nodded, thinking much the same thing. Even aside from the cartoon face, there was something wrong about that woman. We continued in our separately uncomfortable contemplations until we arrived at the next clearing. After that, uncomfortable thoughts never had a chance - sort of like darkness in the presence of a candle.

And that candle was a fairy-tale waterfall, spilling from a black cliff in a froth that rejoined into clear streams before plunging to a still pool. The drop was maybe 20 feet, not enough to put any real force into the descending water, but enough to give a solid pressure that was also not really possible in our sailboat. I think I missed a full-pressure shower almost as much as I missed a long one.

We dropped our beach bag on a wide, flat rock and quickly undressed. I suppose there was a contradiction in the idea that we would ‘dress up’ in case we met someone on an exploration that was intended to find a place to go skinny-dipping when we bathed, but there was no way we were going to miss out on a chance to scrub every inch of ourselves.

That little corner of paradise even had hot and cold running water.

Well, maybe it would be better to say, ‘warm’ and cold. There must have been a higher pool where the water had a chance to catch some heat from the sun, because one of the tumbling streams was about blood warm while another had clearly just that instant arrived from some near-freezing cloud layer. In any event, moving along the edge of the pool near the waterfalls provided a variety of pressures and temperatures that beckoned us to move from place to place rather than settle in for that long, relaxing shower we had promised each other.

Finally, though, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to be really clean for the first time in forever (well, okay, just a week, but that can seem like a really LONG time on a small boat). I got our carefully-selected biodegradable soap out of the bag and sat on the flat rock working up a lather.

"Hey," Lainey called, "save some for me."

"Get your own," I said, laughing. She snatched at the soap, which of course resulted in it slipping from both out hands and into the pool. I was about ready for a rinse, anyway, so I dove in and found it on the bottom, rising to find Lainey already involved with the shampoo.

"You want some help with that?" I asked.

"I suppose you’ll want me to return the favor," she challenged.

"Yep."

"Good," she said, turning her back to me. I sat beside her on our little ledge and kneaded the shampoo into her long, lustrous hair. I don’t know how beauty parlors ever got started. Why would a man let another person, man or woman, wash his wife’s hair? Running your fingers through that soft silk, all slick and shiny with shampoo . . . it’s almost as sensual as making love.

Almost.

When I had it all soaped up, she rolled off the rock into the water and swam over to one of the streams for a long, pounding rinse. Watching her in the pool, naked and with a body many a younger woman would kill for (even if she was a bit . . . well, even if she didn’t have to worry about sagging), I felt luckier than any man in the history of the world. She noticed me staring at her and blew me a kiss from within the water spray, then she licked her lips languidly and moved so that the stream played across her swollen nipples.

Damn that woman could swim. As soon as I got her so-intriguing invitation, I was off the rock and headed after her at my best speed. Unfortunately, she’s a greased eel in the water and aside from an occasional slippery brush against a heel, the only contact I had of her was the sound of her laughter. She was teasing of course, but there wasn’t a lot I could do about it.

Until she let me.

All of the sudden she disappeared from in front of me, levitating up out of sight. When I surged after her, I found her leaning back on our flat rock as though she were just catching a little sun. Only her heaving . . . um, only her panting betrayed the frantic exertion of a moment before.

"You are not nice," I accused, trying to catch my own breath.

"Nope," she replied, no contrition at all. "Aren’t you glad?"

"Yep." After that we didn’t talk for a while.

When I woke up, my own long hair was trailing over the side of the rock into the water, and Lainey was softly running her fingers through it, shampooing my gray mane now that her blonde one was clean.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep."

"Actually, I took it as a compliment," Lainey said, grinning. "At least this old woman still has enough of what it takes to excite one man, and an oooolld one at that."

"Wasn’t feeling so old for a while there," I said, starting to turn to look directly at her, only to have her pull my head back around through her grip on my hair.

"No, you weren’t," she agreed with a positively girlish giggle.

"There, done," she then announced a moment later, changing the subject.

I swear, that little pool must have had a direct connection to the fountain of youth, because by the time I had my own hair rinsed clean, I was feeling ‘young’ again, and that hadn’t happened twice in one day for a lot longer than I wanted to remember.

This time Lainey took pity on an old man and didn’t make me chase her. She just lay back on the rock and stretched her legs into a long, clean line that showed all her so-well-preserved curves. All of them. I was almost across the little pool to her when she sat up in alarm.

"What was that?!"

"What was what?" I snapped, perhaps understandably distressed at the thought of an interruption.

Then I knew, too, as I heard a hoarse grunting sound in the bushes.

"Get in the water," I ordered. I didn’t know what indigenous life there was on the island, but there were few land animals that could outswim Lainey, and those that could would still be more vulnerable than on the land.

I was looking around for a stick I could get to without getting too far from the pool myself, when the source of the grunting appeared in the clearing. It was a large pig - not a huge one, perhaps a couple of hundred pounds - who seemed as surprised to see us as we were to see him. In any event, as soon as he did see us, he turned and vanished back into the brush.

"Wow, that was exciting," I said with a grimace. Distracting, too, damnit. So much for twice in one day.

Lainey nodded, keeping a wary eye toward where the pig had gone. We dressed quickly, but when she started back down the trail, I hesitated for a minute.

"Um, wait. I just had an idea. How long has it been since we’ve had a good meal on real meat?"

"Uh, well, a while I guess. You think you can get that pig?"

"Maybe. Before I try, though, I think maybe we better ask Tirce if it would be okay. For all I know, she’s raising the things."

That wasn’t the response we got when we got back to Tirce’s cottage, though. I called again, and we waited again, and I was about to knock or something when I heard her harsh tones.

"What do you want now?"

"Um, sorry to bother you again, but we saw a, um, pig and wondered if, well, if we were able to catch it and butcher it, if that would be okay. We haven’t had anything but fish for a long time. You’d be welcome to join us of course."

"You don’t want those pigs," Tirce said firmly.

"Oh, well, if you say so. I do know how to dress out a hog, though.

It wouldn’t be much trouble."

"Look," she repeated herself, "you really don’t want to eat those pigs. They’re not really . . . like other pigs. But if you want something other than fish, you can take a chicken from the pen out back. Don’t take the rooster, mind you, but there are plenty of hens. Getting to be too many, in fact. Take some eggs, too. Don’t suppose you have fresh eggs anymore either. Just don’t eat the pigs."

"You’re too kind," I said, and really she was being kind. Chicken would be wonderful, too. "Uh, ma’am, I mean, Tirce, you’re still welcome to join us."

"No. Thanks. Just take what you want, but leave me alone."

"As you wish, ma’am, um, Madame Tirce."

As we walked around the cottage, Lainey said, "I’m surprised we didn’t hear any chickens when we walked up. You’d think they’d make a lot of noise."

"Another odd thing, I guess," I replied, but it was a little strange.

When we got to the pen, there were maybe eight or ten hens, and two strutting roosters, one of which was pretty small. I managed, to corner one of the smaller hens while Lainey scooped up three or four eggs. In the course of her exploration, she found a couple of broken boards in the roosting racks as well. She pointed them out and our next pay-before-play chore was obvious. I went about fixing the coop, in the course of which getting dirty enough that another shower was in order; both of which were accomplished by late afternoon.

That evening we arranged a quiet little picnic on the beach, roasting the chicken over an energetic fire that flared and sparkled whenever a bit of grease would drop.

Lainey leaned against me and mused, "I wonder what the story is with that Tirce woman."

"Beats me. It wouldn’t seem like a woman could live all alone like this, nor would she want to, even on an island this beautiful."

"The whole thing is weird," Lainey continued. "I swear that trail wasn’t there yesterday. And isn’t it strange that the only real repair work that needed to be done around the place needed cut lumber, and we found some just lying there ready to go?"

"Maybe she knew it needed to be done and arranged for the materials, but hadn’t gotten around to it, yet."

"Maybe, but then there’s the chickens we didn’t hear until she told us where they were, and, oh, I don’t know. It’s just weird."

"So," I said, smiling to try and ease her tension, "you think she really IS a witch?"

"Maybe," Lainey said, not smiling at all.

So much for reducing the tension. Dredging up another smile, I said, "Okay. We’ll leave in the morning. We won’t even say good-bye, just be gone at first light."

She nodded, but I could tell she still wasn’t happy.

**************************************

Log of the Twilight Breeze
16 October 2004
Long 143.24 deg. W
Lat 12.17 deg. S

(Tirce’s Island)

Second night on the island, now revealed to be inhabited after all. At least, if a single old woman qualifies as an inhabitant. Her name is Tirce, and other than being rude and as unattractive as any woman I have ever seen, we don’t know much about her. In one way she fits this place, though, because of her contradictions. When we first met her she sounded like she was about to run us off her island, then she invited us into her cottage. Then, once inside, she didn’t offer us any refreshments or do any of the other hostess things at all. Yet later, when we asked if we might try and catch what seemed like a wild island pig, she refused that request then offered a free chicken from her small flock instead. You could never tell if she was going to do something nice or nasty from one sentence to the next.

And she told us she was a witch; threatened us with unnamed terrible things if we crossed her. For some reason, I can’t quite bring myself to discount that crazy claim. Adam has promised that we will leave first thing in the morning, and I’m glad.

However, the day was not all strange. We found the most beautiful fresh water pool below a waterfall. Adam would like for me to go topless a lot, but I learned a long time ago that if a girl wants to be treated special, she needs to sustain an air of being special. Besides, men are such visual creatures. I do wear a bikini a lot, which many people would think is scandalous for an old woman. But tan lines are sexy. When I do expose those pale areas, they act like eye magnets. That works for older men just as well as with younger ones, and sometimes with quite pleasant rewards. Anyway, I always stay dressed ‘decently’ except for special occasions. So when I stripped down at the pool to go skinny-dipping with my husband, well, it worked. Exposing my ‘sacred’ secrets to the world made that occasion very special indeed. If we wouldn’t have been interrupted, I think he’d have managed twice. Maybe that doesn’t belong in the log, here, but I’m proud that this old body still gets his motor purring.

Then we had a lovely picnic on the beach, eating the chicken that Tirce had given us and counting the 9 zillion 4 hundred and 12 stars that you can see when the nearest city lights are a thousand miles away.

If it weren’t for that old woman, we might have stayed at this place for a lot more than just two nights.

End log entry
Elaine Bridger

*******************************

I should have remembered the saying about best laid plans and all that. We were up with the sun, but so was the old lady. I don’t know how long she had been waiting, but when I came on deck the next morning, she was standing on the dock right next to my mooring lines.

"Gonna leave without saying good-bye, were you?"

Once again, honesty seemed like not only the best policy, but as though it were somehow the only choice. I nodded, but tried to explain with, "You didn’t seem like you, um, wanted any more of our company, anyway."

"True enough," she said, nodding in turn. "Still, you weren’t as bad as some visitors to my island. Fixed the deck and the chicken coop, too. Enough. Name your wish."

"Excuse me?"

"Name your wish. Told you, I’m a witch. You’ve been good to me, I’ll grant you a wish. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if you got scared and decided to leave without asking."

Lainey had heard enough of the conversation through the hatch to join the conversation as she stepped into the cockpit.

"I’m sorry, Madame Tirce, but we don’t know what you’re talking about."

Tirce snorted, shaking her head like she didn’t believe us for a second. "Where are you from? Besides America, that is. I can tell that. But where have you been lately?"

I offered an equally-terse explanation, "Just sailing this way, from Australia over the last couple of months, and before that, just more sailing."

"So you never heard the legend of my island, huh? Well, good. Don’t need a bunch of greedy morons coming by anyway. Doesn’t matter, though. I make my own rules, and I decide who gets a wish. You do. Now, make it and don’t waste any more of my time."

"Ma’am," I said, ignoring her scowl at that word, "we still don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t want anything from you that you haven’t already graciously provided. Thank you anyway, but we’ll just be on our way."

"Spurn my offer, will you? I don’t think so. I won’t be beholding to anyone. Now, make your damn wish."

Lainey leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Maybe we ought to humor her, make some harmless wish and be on our way."

Nodding, I looked back at Tirce. "Ah, sure, thank you. Um, well, how about . . . "

Tirce interrupted with some rules, "Don’t ask for anything grand and glorious. No world peace, or ending world hunger, or what not. And no forever and ever things. Immortality and that sort of rot. Nothing that lasts longer than I do. You’ve been polite to me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be played for a sucker."

I tried again, this time to be interrupted by Lainey. Or perhaps I interrupted her. In any event, we both spoke at the same time and both stopped to let the other go first.

"None of that, either," Tirce snapped. "Stupid manners could keep us here all day. Tell you what. You fixed both the dock and the coop, so I’ll give you two wishes, one each. But you can’t tell each other what you wished for. Write them down. There, are you happy now?"

"Um, yes, thank you," I said, then looked at Lainey. She shrugged, but went below to get some paper. When she came back, after a long silent moment when Tirce just glared at me without saying a word, she already had one piece of paper folded over. In her other hand was a pad and a pencil. I quickly wrote out my own wish, actually derived from what Tirce herself had said. Lainey looked at me and shrugged once again before handing both folded notes to the old crone.

Tirce quickly opened them, then looked at us. For the first time, and hopefully the last, I heard her really laugh. It was a raucous, cackling sound that put my nerves on edge like fingernails on a blackboard, but she didn’t say anything. With a curt nod, I stepped to the controls and started the auxiliary. When it was running well, Lainey brought in our lines and the fenders and we made our careful way out of the little bay. The last we saw of Tirce, she was still standing on her dock and looking at us. I swear, even from another hundred yards away, I could still see a most unsettling smile on that cartoon-ugly visage.

Ship’s business consumed the next couple of hours; getting clear of the small bay, setting sail, and so on. I needed to be the one to raise the sails since Lainey didn’t have quite enough strength to get the halyards taut. And it was our standard practice every time we returned to sea to do a thorough inspection of our readiness for a storm. For some reason, no amount of looking around when you’re sitting at a dock shows quite as much as you find after even a few minutes rolling through real waves.

Still, it was not quite local noon, as best I could tell from the sun, when I rejoined Lainey in the cockpit.

"That was one strange woman," she said as soon as I was settled.

"Still thinking about that?"

"Yes. I just can’t get over the idea that there was more to her than she was saying."

"Well, duh! It was obvious that she wasn’t just an isolated kook. She was even disappointed that we hadn’t heard of her. Too bad we didn’t ask around a bit more before we sailed from Tahiti."

I looked back at the mountain that still showed above the horizon.

"In fact, it’s a bit surprising even to see a mountainous island here.

I thought we were into the area of coral atolls, not volcanoes."

"Hmmm," Lainey said, sitting up straighter. "You’re right. We’ll be able to find this place again, if we need to, right?"

"Sure, though I don’t know why we would. But you recorded the lat/ long data in the log, and we have the GPS track. Why would we want to come back anyway? I think we ought to run downwind for a couple of days and get as far from here as possible."

Lainey nodded quickly, "Oh, sure, but . . . just in case."

It was strange for Lainey to be so bothered by a simple old woman, and a peculiar but not impossible island. But the strangest thing about her concern was that I shared it. For some reason, I had the feeling we would be back to that island. Which was stupid. We hadn’t backtracked in over a year, nor felt any need. I decided to change the subject, or actually, to talk about another part of the subject in a way that might relax Lainey’s tension.

"So, what did you wish for?"

She did laugh. "I’m not telling. She said not to tell and it might spoil the wish."

"Yeah, right. This is not breaking a wishbone or something." Then I laughed myself and said, "Or maybe it is. Probably has just as much validity. Still, suit yourself."

Now it was Lainey’s turn to grin, "So, does that mean you are or are not going to tell me your wish?"

"Not, of course," I said, smiling right back at her.

Since it seemed we were taking turns at things, Lainey took a turn at changing the subject. "So, Mon Capitain, are things shipshape?"

"Best I can tell. I checked the weather report, and things look good for at least a few days, probably a week."

"Okay," she said, then pointed to a locker. "Why don’t you get your jacket and lifeline rigged, then? I better go take a nap so I can stay awake during my shift later."

"Roger that," I said, suiting my actions to her suggestion. We had an absolute rule that when only one of us was on deck, that person had to wear a life preserver and a lifeline. Even after a year of pleasant proof that was a conservative rule, we never even thought to break it.

After I was settled in at the helm, Lainey gave me a wonderfully soft cuddle, then went below and I found myself, once again, alone on the wide sea. It was a pleasant enough place to be, at least for a change. Loneliness was seldom a problem on our small boat, sometimes just the opposite in fact, and I appreciated the privacy that came during all-night legs. It gave me time to think, even if this time my thoughts seemed stuck in a bit of a rut about a surprisingly ugly woman on a surprisingly beautiful island.

 

(continued in Part 3)

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Live Long and Prosper © 2000 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.