Surviving the Dreams

Chapter 13 - Telleron City

Greg and Susan stayed up most of the evening packing their things on the evening of March 15th, their last night in their cottage in St. Augustine's. After living on this particular island for nearly a year, and in this cottage for the past ten months, they'd finally found a way to move on: after saving their money for months and continuing to pray, they'd finally saved enough, and Greg managed to negotiate passage for them on a fishing boat headed for Telleron City at a price they thought they could afford. Susan had a teaching position waiting for her there, along with housing for six months. It wasn't much, but it was the best opportunity they'd had so far to try to get one step closer to home.

"Were you planning to empty both bags before simply packing them again?" Greg asked as he surveyed the array of items spread out on the bed in the cottage's one bedroom.

"I thought it might be a good idea to start fresh," Susan confirmed. "We do have a few more clothes now."

"Only my two shirts and the two dresses for yourself which you've made," Greg pointed out.

"I also bought a new shirt just after we got here," Susan reminded him, pulling a navy blue t-shirt from the pile on the bed and folding it more neatly than before.

"Yes, but you are still wearing your original pair of jeans ... which are now too big for you, by the way," Greg reminded her.

"I know. This is also my original shirt too, but your wardrobe isn't that much better. Isn't that the shirt you were wearing the day of the crash?"

"It is, and these are the trousers," Greg agreed.

The only other pair he owned originally had belonged to a crewman who later died, and they'd buried. It felt like a long time ago, and it was ... only two weeks shy of two years ago to the day since they'd both been aboard an airline crash somewhere in the south Pacific. Since then, they'd not only been trying to survive, but also to get home.

Susan nodded as she folded the rest of their clothing, placing them in the bottom of one of the newly emptied, homemade bags they'd brought with them to St. Augustine's when they came.

"It looks like we have more when you put it all together," Susan commented.

"I think it's the blanket that takes up the space," Greg remarked. "What about our other things? Will they fit?"

Susan arranged the household items they'd managed to accumulate and placed them in the bottom of the second handmade bag, including a couple of handmade, woven mats. In addition, they now had a box which they'd used to put papers in and other more regularly shaped items they now owned. It was true they hadn't bought much since they'd come to this island, but their possessions did take up more space now than they did before.

The envelope from the Wilson's was most carefully packed in the bottom of the box Susan had been using as an additional suitcase and was the first thing she'd packed. She taped it shut after the last thing went in, and an hour before sunrise they were ready. They left their little cottage one last time, closed the door behind them and prepared to move on.

"We're going to have to replace that with a real suitcase someday," Greg commented as he held the box while they stood waiting on the pier.

"Maybe whenever we get some real clothes to put in it," Susan teased.

Greg smiled then nodded. "You do still wear the skirt we acquired from the lady in pink," he acknowledged. "I suppose that doesn't exactly make for an extensive wardrobe."

"No, it doesn't ... and the only toiletries we own are a single bar of soap. I think we're a long way from needing a real suitcase, Greg," Susan said.