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Authors: Connie Flynn
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these pages could only feed. Better to leave
the journal here. Then later she would put it away unread as a memento of her
mother.
"Liz!" Zach called from out front.
"Coming. "
Instead of turning to leave, however, she continued staring
at the small, prettily bound book. Although she fervently disagreed with her
parents' beliefs, she'd never get a better opportunity to know her mother's
heart.
A small laugh rumbled in her throat. She was being
ridiculous. How could she even consider let- ting some silly fears stop her
from learning more about her mother? This decided, she went to a cupboard and
grabbed a large, plastic food-storage bag. She'd keep the book in it to protect
it from water, and maybe read it on the journey.
After tucking the journal safely in one of the larger cargo
pockets of her overalls, she walked through the front door to the boat.
When she climbed aboard and draped her coat over the front
passenger seat, Zach greeted her with an appreciative grin.
"Cute," he remarked. "I remember the last
time you wore those."
Liz felt a bit self-conscious and looked down to see what he
found so attractive.
"They're too baggy," she said. "And my legs
look like they belong to a ghost."
"You've got great legs, cher . Trust me, I'm a
connoisseur."
"I'll bet you are," she replied dryly, wanting to
divert his unsettling attention. She had a feeling he was trying to travel down
memory lane, a place she definitely didn't want to go. "Well, we're
finally off to Fantasy Island. I feel rather inane boating to a place that
doesn't exist."
"Which'll make it a lot harder to find your pa."
He eased the boat away from the dock, then gave it more gas.
As soon as they'd gathered a little speed, he eased off the seat and pulled
something silver out of his pocket. When he uncapped it and lifted it to his
lips, Liz realized it was a flask.
Oh, great, she thought. Just great.
He recapped the flask and put it on the floor by his feet,
then lit a cigarette. This hinted that he planned to stay sober for the trip,
so Liz relaxed somewhat. She wiggled around in her seat, trying to get
comfortable, and felt a prick from the corner of the journal, which prompted
her to take it from her pocket. After she'd slipped it out of the bag, she
leaned back to read.
A dog-eared page drew her attention, and she flipped to it.
"A map."
"To where?"
Liz let out a short laugh. "To Quadray Island. There
are some notes about it too."
"That's a piece of luck. It'll give us an idea which
way your pa went. Although, I should remember. I headed that way myself . . .
once."
"Yeah," she said, a smile coming to her lips.
"To bring me back a spotted orchid."
"Boys do besotted things," he replied curtly as he
extended a hand. "Let me see that for a sec."
Liz handed the book over, a bit miffed about his dismissal,
and about bringing the incident up in the first place. Hadn't she herself
decided not to discuss the past?
They were headed north into a smooth, wide waterway that
allowed Zach to prop the journal on the steering wheel and read while they
traveled. He'd opened the throttle full bore and wind rushed over the
windshield; tearing at Liz's short hair, causing her to experience a feeling of
freedom she hadn't known in a long time. "If this map is accurate,"
he said after a time, "we'll have to cut off here into this cypress
swamp." Liz leaned over to see the spot he tapped. "It might be tight
for this big tub, and your pa'll get through easy, so that will cost us some
time. But I think we can catch him before dark."
"Glad to hear you being optimistic."
"No, cher . . Just not quite so
pessimistic."
As she settled back into her seat, she noticed him scanning
the opposite page, which was written in a combination of French and English and
contained baleful warnings about the island. Dividing his attention between the
book and the waterway ahead, he studied the information with obvious interest.
Once she saw him mouth a phrase she suspected was in
the journal here. Then later she would put it away unread as a memento of her
mother.
"Liz!" Zach called from out front.
"Coming. "
Instead of turning to leave, however, she continued staring
at the small, prettily bound book. Although she fervently disagreed with her
parents' beliefs, she'd never get a better opportunity to know her mother's
heart.
A small laugh rumbled in her throat. She was being
ridiculous. How could she even consider let- ting some silly fears stop her
from learning more about her mother? This decided, she went to a cupboard and
grabbed a large, plastic food-storage bag. She'd keep the book in it to protect
it from water, and maybe read it on the journey.
After tucking the journal safely in one of the larger cargo
pockets of her overalls, she walked through the front door to the boat.
When she climbed aboard and draped her coat over the front
passenger seat, Zach greeted her with an appreciative grin.
"Cute," he remarked. "I remember the last
time you wore those."
Liz felt a bit self-conscious and looked down to see what he
found so attractive.
"They're too baggy," she said. "And my legs
look like they belong to a ghost."
"You've got great legs, cher . Trust me, I'm a
connoisseur."
"I'll bet you are," she replied dryly, wanting to
divert his unsettling attention. She had a feeling he was trying to travel down
memory lane, a place she definitely didn't want to go. "Well, we're
finally off to Fantasy Island. I feel rather inane boating to a place that
doesn't exist."
"Which'll make it a lot harder to find your pa."
He eased the boat away from the dock, then gave it more gas.
As soon as they'd gathered a little speed, he eased off the seat and pulled
something silver out of his pocket. When he uncapped it and lifted it to his
lips, Liz realized it was a flask.
Oh, great, she thought. Just great.
He recapped the flask and put it on the floor by his feet,
then lit a cigarette. This hinted that he planned to stay sober for the trip,
so Liz relaxed somewhat. She wiggled around in her seat, trying to get
comfortable, and felt a prick from the corner of the journal, which prompted
her to take it from her pocket. After she'd slipped it out of the bag, she
leaned back to read.
A dog-eared page drew her attention, and she flipped to it.
"A map."
"To where?"
Liz let out a short laugh. "To Quadray Island. There
are some notes about it too."
"That's a piece of luck. It'll give us an idea which
way your pa went. Although, I should remember. I headed that way myself . . .
once."
"Yeah," she said, a smile coming to her lips.
"To bring me back a spotted orchid."
"Boys do besotted things," he replied curtly as he
extended a hand. "Let me see that for a sec."
Liz handed the book over, a bit miffed about his dismissal,
and about bringing the incident up in the first place. Hadn't she herself
decided not to discuss the past?
They were headed north into a smooth, wide waterway that
allowed Zach to prop the journal on the steering wheel and read while they
traveled. He'd opened the throttle full bore and wind rushed over the
windshield; tearing at Liz's short hair, causing her to experience a feeling of
freedom she hadn't known in a long time. "If this map is accurate,"
he said after a time, "we'll have to cut off here into this cypress
swamp." Liz leaned over to see the spot he tapped. "It might be tight
for this big tub, and your pa'll get through easy, so that will cost us some
time. But I think we can catch him before dark."
"Glad to hear you being optimistic."
"No, cher . . Just not quite so
pessimistic."
As she settled back into her seat, she noticed him scanning
the opposite page, which was written in a combination of French and English and
contained baleful warnings about the island. Dividing his attention between the
book and the waterway ahead, he studied the information with obvious interest.
Once she saw him mouth a phrase she suspected was in
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