Page 64 of Restoration
“Autumn,” he finally mumbles against my mouth.
“Yes.” Everything inside me needs to hear what he’s about to say.
He doesn’t get to say it because an inexplicable noise breaks into the natural sounds around us.
It’s a horn. An extended blast of a horn.
Like on a boat.
We both jerk, and I roll off him quickly. We scramble to our feet and peer out at the rippling ocean.
There is a boat. A sailing yacht in the distance. And it’s headed toward the island.
It’s headed right toward us.
We run farther out onto the beach so we can see better, and there’s no mistaking it. I turn around to look up at the kite, and it’s still flying, secured on the rail where we tied it off again after lunch.
When the boat gets closer, we both yell and wave our arms, but our actions probably won’t make a difference. It seems to very clearly be heading for this island, whether the people on board see us or not.
“Shit,” Edmund exclaims, squinting into the distance. He’s stopped waving his arms now. “I think that’s my buddy’s yacht.”
“Your buddy?”
“Jon.”
“He’s the one who told you about this island?”
“Yes. It’s got to be him!”
He waves and calls out again, and I do the same until the ship is close enough for me to see the silhouette of someone standing on the deck, waving back at us.
“They see us.” I’m breathless and beaming as I turn toward Edmund. “Is this really happening?”
He turns to meet my eyes. He’s flushed from the sun and excitement. His hair and beard are absolute disasters. He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. “I think it is.”
“In that case, maybe you should go put on some clothes.” I gesture down at his lean, tanned body—long limbs, firm muscles, dark body hair. “You don’t want Jon or whoever that is to get freaked out and turn around.”
Edmund chuckles and does what I suggest, grabbing his shorts and then yanking on his thin, dingy T-shirt. While the shirt I’m wearing reaches midthigh, I do find my panties and shorts to pull on with it.
The boat is slowing down, and it stops when the water starts to get shallow. Then a man on deck jumps into the water and swims to the shore.
I recognize him when he stands up to wade the rest of the way toward us.
It’s not Jon. I assume Jon is the guy still on the yacht behind the helm.
The man coming toward us is Caleb. Big and wet and blue-eyed and smiling as he strides over.
“This is a damn miracle,” he says. “I can’t believe you both are still alive.”
I’m so overwhelmed with so many things that I actually throw myself at him in a hug.
He hugs me back, laughing and then releasing me. “I’m going to get you all wet.”
“We’ve been wet and sandy and covered with salt for two months,” I tell him. “How on earth did you find us?”
“Is that Jon on the yacht?” Edmund asks.
“It is,” Caleb explains, reaching over to clap Edmund on the back. “Everyone said you must have drowned, and that’s definitely what it looked like. Some of the wreckage from your boat ended up at the bottom of the ocean. But I wasn’t convinced, and I couldn’t understand why you all would have sailed so far out in the middle of nowhere. So I kept looking. When the authorities wouldn’t do anything else, I started asking all your friends what you might have been doing. I finally reached Jon, who mentioned he’d told you about this island. Then I had to wait three more weeks for him to have time to sail me out this far to look.”