Visited by the Dreams

Chapter 19 - The Fourth of July

It was the day after testing the Oyster, when Susan awoke in her teepee on the beach to find Greg standing in waist deep water, patiently carving the name of their boat on the upper log forming one of the pontoons. Susan bathed and swam before coming to join him, admiring his work.

“Do you like it?” Greg asked as he finished the last letter.

“Very much,” Susan said beaming. “I really am feeling encouraged about all of this.”

“I am too,” Greg agreed putting the knife away. “It is still low tide. I thought now might be the time to load some of our furnishings from the cave into the Oyster.”

“A very good idea,” Susan agreed. “Maybe we should start by installing the hammock for the shells?”

“Now would be easiest,” Greg agreed.

Susan went to retrieve the miniature hammocks and the life vests they would use to cushion and support their coal-bearing seashells, passing them up to Greg once he was on board. She followed a moment later, and they consulted together on where things should be put. With a plan in mind, Susan lashed the frames for the seashell hammocks to the cabin framing in the inside corner closest to the door on the port side while Greg prepared the forward corner on the same side as the place their table would go. A small bench for storage and seating would occupy the space in between, while their hammocks occupied the starboard side, bunk-bed style. 

Once the internal arrangement of the cabin was ready, Greg went ashore to start bringing things to the boat from the cave. He started with the smaller things first: Tools, utensils and extra bowls found their way from the shelves they’d used to store them on the cave into the storage benches on the deck of the Oyster. With Susan’s help, Greg brought down now emptied shelves, followed by the small table and their drying rack for clothes from the cave to the beach and then onto the boat. The drying rack and the shelves were lashed to the outside of the cabin where they were easily accessible from the deck, while the table secured in its designated place inside. Their precious newspaper map, which normally was kept on the table in the cave, followed it there, now protected from handling and the elements in the old Zip-lock bag Susan had once used to preserve some of her things during the airline crash. Their extra clothes and shoes went in the cabin too, where they were stored in their designated place in the bench.

Much more quickly than they might have predicted, the cave was essentially empty, with the exception of the rocks and coals defining their fire ring.

“Shall we camp on the beach until we leave?” Greg asked as he studied it.

“I’m staying there anyways,” Susan reminded him. “You are welcome to join me.”

“I am happy to do so, but we will need to deconstruct your teepee too before we leave.”

Susan smiled a crooked smile. “I know. Tomorrow though, okay?”

 “Agreed,” Greg said.

And together they scattered the stones to the hearth Susan had so carefully laid, then spread out the coals and the ashes, mixing them into the sand in the cave floor until they were out and indistinguishable from the rest of the black sand floor. They swept the surface of the sand with palm leaves to obscure their many footprints, so that by the time they left, aside from the soot on the ceiling, there was no evidence anyone had ever lived inside the cave. Susan hesitated in a moment of unexpected sadness as she surveyed the place from the doorway once they were finished. It felt strange to feel sentimental about leaving a cave, but it was the closest thing they’d know to a home since the day of the crash.

“One more day?” Susan confirmed as they departed the cave one last time, taking their ladder with them.

“One more day. Tomorrow we dismantle the beach camp, gather any remaining evidence we were ever here, and load everything else onto the Oyster,” Greg told her.