Lost and Found: A Stranded in Paradise Romance

Helping Hand

The following day, I called the Maersk Shipping Company, trying to track down the captain of the cargo ship that had picked Dylan and me up from our island. I got transferred three times before I was given his private ship-to-shore number, and when he picked up, I recognized his gravely voice immediately.

"Captain Pedersen?" I said. "This is Jenny Jackson. You picked me and Dylan Fraser up from the deserted island in the South Pacific a few weeks ago–"

"Yes, Miss Jackson," he said, unaware that I was married. "I trust you've fully recovered from your frightening ordeal. How can I help you?"

"I was planning on returning to the island for a short vacation, but I don't know where to find it."

"Didn't your partner share the coordinates I gave him?"

"Um, no," I stammered, reluctant to tell the captain about our strained relationship. "I guess I was too focused on returning home to think about coming back."

"One moment while I check my travel log," the captain said.

After a brief pause, he came back on the line and provided me with the latitude and longitude coordinates of the island.

"Something tells me you two are about to have another unplanned rendezvous," he said. "I hope you're going to bring something more sophisticated than a make-up mirror with you to signal when you're ready to return to the mainland."

"Yes," I chuckled. "I won't come so unprepared this time. Thank you for taking my call."

"Happy to be of service," the captain said, disconnecting the call.

I typed the coordinates he'd given me into Google Maps, then I zoomed into the island as tight as I could, hoping to see any sign of Dylan. I remembered Bree saying that commercial satellites don't have the power to detect small objects that far from space, but I still hoped to see some sign of activity. I was about to embark on a long and expensive trip to our last refuge, and it would be reassuring to have some indication he was actually there before I went on another wild goose chase. But the only sign of human inhabitation was a small clearing atop the mountain where we'd built our signal fire. And the blurry images rendered by the program revealed nothing insightful beyond a dark circle where we'd laid the stones for our fire pit.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the screen, breathing a heavy sigh. It still didn't make sense to me why Dylan would quit his job and leave everything behind to return to the deserted island all alone. There'd be nothing for him to do beyond surfing the waves on his jerry-rigged bodyboard and catching fish in the lagoon. Surely, he'd get bored after staying there by himself for a few days.

I shook my head, rereading the texts he'd sent me last week, looking for any clues for his impulsive behavior. He mentioned that he'd had an argument with his boss, maybe he'd been fired after growing increasingly agitated by my stalling tactics? He also mentioned that things had become difficult between him and his wife after she tried to reconnect with him. Had she asked him to leave the house when she figured out we'd had an affair on the island? But why would he go all the way back to our remote island to find somewhere to lay low? There was his cryptic message about returning to the island to get away from everything. But I thought it was just a joke or a veiled attempt to seduce me back into his arms.

While I reviewed the notes I'd sent back to him while parked at the side of the road, suddenly my eyes flew open and I gasped. I hadn't given it much thought that day I'd driven to work, but I remembered seeing a strange man wearing a baseball cap sitting alone in his car a few doors down from my house. His head had been angled down so I couldn't see his face, but his broad shoulders and his muscular arms looked familiar. Had Dylan been spying on me while he waited for me to contact him?