Every Storm Part 4

Rigg gave her the plate and hoped she understood.

Lorri looked at it, her mouth watering, but didn't know what to do. Rigg watched her, feeling his helplessness grow. Trying to remember commonsense eating guidelines, he searched the plate.

"Why don't you take some potato from right here," he pointed, "without too much gravy."

Lorn used the fork and took some, but it didn't make it to her mouth.

"I forgot to pray," she said quietly, surprised at her own thoughts.

"Would you like me to?"

"Please."

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She looked so grateful that Rigg was glad for a reason to close his eyes.

"Gracious Father in heaven, thank You for leading us to Miss Archer. Please help her to grow strong. Help her stomach to handle the food. Help us to get her home safely. And please end this war swiftly. In Christ's name and for Your glory I pray. Amen."

"Thank you," Lorri said, hearing his words in her head as she put the food into her mouth. She hadn't heard anyone pray for a very long time. It had sounded so nice. And his prayer had reminded her of her grandfather.

"He's probably wondering where I am," Lorri said suddenly, thinking she'd never tasted anything so delicious.

"Who is?"

"My grandpa."

Rigg knew nothing but relief to see Lionel returning. He stood to his feet and warned him about letting Lorri eat all that was on the plate. With a word to her to rest well, he took his leave.

Working his way back through the foliage to the beach, Rigg thought about his ideals as he entered this war. He'd told the Lord he was up for anything. He told G.o.d and his family that if he had to lay down his life for his country, he was willing.

What he hadn't banked on was an island in the middle of the South Pacific and a woman almost starved to death. He was supposed to be working alongside men. He was supposed to be commanding them, getting this war fought, and sending them all home if he had any say in the matter.

What he hadn't figured on was a woman with huge brown eyes, probably close to his own age, whose family must be sick with worry for her and whose vulnerability was almost more than his heart could take.

32 ThruM Rigg lay in his bunk early the next morning and knew it would be the last time for some days. He shared a cabin with Hugh West-land. Hugh's bunk was built into the wall. Hugh would completely vacate for their guest. Rigg would take Hugh's bunk and hang a blanket in the middle of the room. It wasn't the most convenient, but it was unavoidable as the rest of the sleeping bunks on board were not in private cabins. Hopefully it would only be a matter of days before Miss Archer could be delivered to the base at Seaford. As soon as the radio was back in order, they would send word that she was coming. In the meantime, they would all have to learn to coexist.

"There's something you might want to see," Hugh said as he snagged Rigg the moment his feet hit the beach. "This way."

Hugh led Rigg toward an area not far off the clearing where they had found Lorri. She was separated from them by thick trees and bushes. After working their way through the foliage, Hugh

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stopped and Rigg found himself at the edge of a smaller clearing. He looked at the ground and knew he was staring at the graves of the other people who had been on the plane.

"Just the two, do you think?" Rigg asked Hugh, his eyes scanning beyond.

"As far as I can tell. It wasn't a large plane, but maybe she put more than one person in each grave."

Rigg shook his head, trying to imagine Lorri Archer having to complete such a task. He hoped for her sake that the folks in these graves were strangers but wasn't sure that would have made it any easier.

"Do you want me to question her?" Hugh asked.

"No, I'll put as much as I know in my report, and when she's ready to talk about it, she can tell us."

"And if she's never ready?"

"Right now I can't worry about that."

Hugh nodded and Rigg went on his way. The second-in-command stood for a time after the lieutenant left, his eyes strangely riveted to the fresh mounds of dirt, his concentration on the churning in his gut.

Lorri woke up in a way she hadn't in over six weeks: She was warm and under a blanket; she had a pillow; and there was no headache or stiff neck. But it was more than that. She wanted to think about things. It didn't take long for the terrifying plane crash to come rushing back to her, an event she forced from her mind, but it didn't matter because other things began crowding into its place.,

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Lori Wick She could see the children's faces at the ranch. For days now, maybe even weeks, they had slipped from her mind. She could come up with a name but not a face, or a face that she could not label. Today she could do both.

The next thing she wanted was to bathe. She rose with just that in mind, only to see Lionel as soon as she stepped from the interior of the plane.

"Good morning," he greeted her, looking very fresh and put together, not in the least as though he'd spent the night in the jungle.

"Good morning."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you."

"I'm headed back to the boat, but Donald will stay with you."

For the first time Lorri noticed the other man. He was younger than Lionel, and he dipped his head nervously in her direction before looking away.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine on my own."

"It's no trouble," Lionel a.s.sured her as he went on his way.

Larri watched him leave and then looked to the other man, who was still looking everywhere but at her.

"If you'll just excuse me a moment," she started to say, moving away from him.

"I think I'm supposed to go with you."

Til just be a moment, really."

Til come with you."

Does this man not need to relieve himself when he first wakes up? Lorri woridered but stood silent. She had given up on washing herself, but the other would not wait. She thought fast, not wanting to make trouble but sensing a very real need.

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"You may tell Lionel or whoever asks that I am to blame."

At first Donald was too surprised by this statement to act. He watched this emaciated woman slip into the trees, following a little too late. He went after her but soon realized she was not to be found.

Just managing to retrace his steps, he went back to the clearing in time to see the lieutenant arrive. He saluted, mentally cursing the woman for the trouble he was sure to be in.

"At ease, sailor," Rigg said calmly. "Where is Miss Archer?"

"She slipped into the trees, sir, and I can't locate her."

The newest man to the crew, Donald should still have known Rigg well enough by now to understand that he didn't overreact, but he was surprised when the man only nodded.

"Are you not afraid she'll be lost, sir?" The question popped out before he could stop it.

The officer's brows rose. "She's lived here for six weeks. She's not going to get lost on this island." Rigg glanced around. "We'll just a.s.sume that she'll be back when she's ready."

As though just saying the words caused them to be true, Lorri stepped into the clearing. She was moving slowly, a look of concentration on her face, and for a moment she didn't see the men.

"Miss Archer?" Rigg spoke to her.

Lorri looked up at him and asked, "Why are you on this island?"

Rigg felt a measure of relief flood through him. Her voice was stronger, her eyes a little clearer.

"We had to make repairs to our boat. We'll probably leave here in the next few hours."

"And you'll take me with you?"

Rigg nodded and said, "Yes, we will."

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Low Wick Something in his voice made Lorri uncomfortable. She ducked her head before saying, "I know you have things on your mind."

And you're one of them, Rigg thought, but he only a.s.sured her again that they wouldn't forget and went on his way. He pa.s.sed Lionel, who was on his way back to see Lorri, his arms full of clothes.

"Good," Rigg said when he saw the pants and shirts. "She can't possibly be aboard the Storm in that skirt."