Lola Carlyle Reveals All

“How long before we reach it?”

“Can’t say. We didn’t make much progress today.” He picked up the melted flare gun, a fingernail file, and a tube of Super Glue.

“Now what are you doing?”

This time he didn’t even bother glancing up. “Making a radio, like you asked.” Then, without a word, he picked up a new pair of binoculars he’d found somewhere and shoved them toward her. “Do something useful.”

Okay, something had made him very cranky, and Lola thought it best to just leave the area. She grabbed the binoculars, moved outside away from the patches of light falling across the aft deck, and was swallowed by the darkness. Millions of stars crammed the skies, and she turned in a circle until she found the Big Dipper. Strong wind blew her hair across her face, and she tucked several strands beneath the collar of her blouse.

She raised the binoculars to her eyes and gazed out at the black Atlantic Ocean. Not only was Max cranky, but she was fairly certain he was avoiding her. Which was ironic. Yesterday she’d tried to avoid him, and today he was avoiding her.

It seemed to her that if she were at one end of the yacht, he stayed at the opposite end. At first she thought it was because he knew she was bathing and he wanted to give her privacy, but even after she’d dressed and found him on the bow of the boat, he’d simply handed her the binoculars and walked away without a word.

With the sun pouring though his black hair, he’d moved to the swimming platform, stripped to his underwear, and dove into the Atlantic. She’d sat at the bow with her legs dangling over the side. Binoculars in one hand, she’d watched him swim laps around the Dora Mae. Occasionally he would look up at her, but he never broke form and didn’t stop until he’d been at it for about an hour. No doubt about it, Max had been trying to avoid her since lunch.

The breeze ruffled the edge of her pashmina against her knees and gooseflesh rose on her bare legs. She gazed through the binoculars over the port side, out at the white tips of the waves several miles away. The yacht dipped and rose, and for a split second she thought she saw the blink of a light. Her heart leaped to her throat and pounded in her ears as she waited for it again. Long seconds passed and then she saw it once more.

“Max! Max, come out here. I think I see something,” she hollered. She didn’t want to go in and get him, fearing that if she lowered the binoculars, she’d lose sight of the light. When he didn’t appear, she screamed even louder. “Max, come out here now!”

“Jesus,” he swore as he walked from the galley. “What do you want?”

The light blinked again. “I see something. I see a light.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Max came up behind her, and his chest brushed her back. He reached for the binoculars and raised them to his eyes. “Where?”

No longer able to see it, Lola pointed. “Right out there. Do you see it?”

“No.”

“Look harder. It’s there.”

The sound of the waves hitting the sides of the yacht filled the air, and then, “Oh, yeah. There it is.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. It’s too far away. It could be a vessel, or it could be a buoy.” He was silent for so long, Lola felt like screaming. Finally, he said, “It’s moving, so it’s not a buoy.”

“What should we do?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t mean that. We have to do something!”

He lowered the binoculars, and through the darkness he looked into her eyes, but he remained silent.

“Please Max. Please do something.”

He continued to stare at her, and she was just about to plead again, when he finally said, “Get the remaining flares in the emergency kit. The gun is sitting on the table,” he continued, his deep voice cool and calm. “And turn on every light you find.”

If Max was calm and cool, Lola was the opposite. She rushed to the closet and grabbed the three remaining flares. She flipped on the light switches in the stateroom and both bathrooms. On her way back out, she snatched the gun off the table. “Is it still there?” she asked, out of breath as if she’d just done an hour on a treadmill.

“Yes, but it needs to move closer.”

“How close?”

“As close as possible.”

Her mouth was dry and she licked her lips.

“Lola?”

“Yes.”

“Take deep even breaths.”

Yeah right. “Okay.”

“If you hyperventilate again, you’re on your own.”

She placed a hand on her chest and pulled air deep into her lungs. She did not want to hyperventilate, pass out, and miss being rescued. “Is it moving closer?”

“Yes.” It seemed to Lola as if five minutes passed before he handed her the binoculars and she gave him the flare gun. “Stand back. I don’t know if this thing will work.”

Lola moved to the starboard side and watched through the darkness as Max loaded the gun.

“Call your dog,” he said, and once she held Baby close, Max raised his arm and fired. Nothing happened. “Fuck.” He pulled the hammer back once more and fired. This time a red ball shot from the barrel, the blast of the twelve- gauge shell louder than she remembered. The flare traveled at a ninety-degree angle for thirteen hundred feet before erupting like the Fourth of July. It lasted for six brilliant seconds, then burned itself out.

“It worked!” Too excited to stand still, Lola crossed the deck and looked out at where she knew the other vessel to be. “How long before they get here?”

“Not long, if they saw the flare.”

“How can they miss it?”

He took the binoculars from her, and she looked up into his face. Light from the interior spilled out onto the deck, and she noticed the grim line of his mouth. For a man who was about to be rescued he didn’t appear excited. “If they’re not looking for it, quite easily.” He raised the binoculars to his face and stared out at the Atlantic.

“Are they coming this way?” she asked, although she refused to believe that the other vessel hadn’t spotted the flare.

Without a word, he moved to the starboard side.

“Are they coming this way, Max?” she repeated as Baby jumped from her arms.

“It doesn’t look like it.” He lowered the binoculars and loaded the gun. The second flare fired on the first try and lit up the sky.

Lola took the binoculars and raised them to her eyes, but no matter how hard she looked, she saw no distant light hiding among the waves. “Where is it?”

“It’s traveling east, probably to Andros or Nassau.”

“I don’t see it.”

“That’s because it’s moving away from us now.”

“Fire another flare.”

“We should save the last one for when we drift closer to an island.”

“No!” She reached for the gun. Max wouldn’t release it. “They’ll see it this time and come back,” she protested. “Please, Max.”

Within the deep shadows and slices of light, Max looked down at her. Then, without a word, he loaded the gun and raised his arm. Like the other two, the third flare traveled at a ninety-degree angle and exploded in a red ball of fire.

“They had to see that one.” Lola closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. She promised God a lot of different things. She promised to pray more often- even when she didn’t need anything-and she ended by promising to attend Uncle Jed’s new church, a real Pentecostal bible-banger, complete with tent and miraculous healings.

When she looked through the binoculars again, she half expected to see the distant light once more. She saw