Stranded in the Sun

By Kathryn Bea

While on a Caribbean cruise, two strangers wind up stranded on an uninhabited island for the night. As the pair face a series of obstacles to get back to their families and friends and salvage their vacations, they both learn to live and the moment and appreciate what is right in front of them, including each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Aug 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094435411

Book preview

1

B ailey, honey, did you pack enough water? Sunscreen? And are you planning on actually wearing appropriate walking shoes this time? My mother shot question after question over her tanned shoulder as she bustled around the miniscule cabin, tidying up. The ship had a perfectly adequate cleaning staff, of course, not that my room was even all that messy. Ellie Stanton simply couldn’t help herself, even while on vacation. Relaxation was not in her vocabulary. If I had to guess, she had already been banned from her own cabin by my father. He tolerated her endless energy well enough at home but, in confined spaces such as these, all bets were off.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I watched with resigned amusement as she straightened and re-straightened the same striped towel three times, waiting until she finally ran out of steam. Once she turned to face me, hands on her hips, I simultaneously nodded and rolled my eyes.

It took all my willpower to refrain from reminding her, with heavy sarcasm, that I was twenty-eight years old, not twelve. Not to mention a moderately successful attorney in one of the largest west coast firms. If I could negotiate million-dollar settlements, I could certainly dress myself. Especially since we were talking about exploring Nassau, not outer Mongolia. If I forgot water or sunscreen, it would take all of two minutes to find a store that sold them. I’d found that reminding her of those types of facts got me nowhere, though. She would keep pestering me until I answered her questions, one way or another. Lawyers were abundant in our family for a reason.

Bailey? she repeated, giving me her patented stern Mom face. Eyebrows raised; lips pursed.

Yes, Mom. I’m good. I’ve got everything I need. I promise, I answered dryly, patting the powder-blue day pack laying at my side as proof.

I know what that tone means, I’ll get out of your hair. She flipped her wrist to check the time on the ancient gold watch Dad gave her for one of their early anniversaries. We will be docking in twenty minutes. Remember, the walking tour leaves at nine from Parliament Square. If you’re joining us, don’t be late.

The unspoken ‘again’ hovered in the air between us. Admittedly, it was well-deserved. The day before, when we had docked at Great Stirrup Cay, I had sort of accidentally-on-purpose missed the boat to Treasure Island. Yes. It was actually called Treasure Island. And the main attraction was swimming with pigs. Don’t get me wrong, pigs are perfectly cute, and I enjoy them as much as the next person, but splashing around among the hordes of tourists jostling to get the best pictures of the poor creatures wasn’t how I had envisioned spending my holiday.

I was here for one reason and one reason only: The pursuit of ultimate relaxation. Preferably by dozing off on some desolate strip of white sand with nothing but the sun and waves to keep me company. Okay, and maybe some margaritas or hurricanes to facilitate the relaxation process. The closest I had been able to get at the resort was a semi-isolated lounge chair and some food truck tacos. Still, I had no regrets about bailing on the outing.

I said maybe I’ll come. Maybe. Not definitely. Don’t count on me. I smiled placidly, hoping she didn’t see the over my dead body that was trapped on the tip of my tongue. I wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings by ditching them again, I really wasn’t. I loved my parents, and even enjoyed their company, on occasion. However, our ideas on what constituted fun activities were in direct opposition.

All right, all right, I’ll take that. I know when I’m beat. See you soon… or tonight, I guess. She leaned in to kiss my cheek and then quickly scooted out the door, presumably heading back to her own cabin. Which was conveniently located directly next to mine. That was as far as the umbilical cord reached this week.

Once I was alone again, I climbed to my feet and stood in the middle of my room. Twisting, I looked around, aimlessly surveying my belongings for something to occupy myself with. Twenty minutes wasn’t enough time to do much of anything, but I was too restless to sit and wait it out.

Grudgingly, I settled on double-checking the contents of my bag, ensuring that I did in fact have all the essentials as I had so indignantly insisted. Not only would it be annoying to have to pay the exorbitant island prices, but if my mother found out I would never hear the end of it.

Fortunately, it was a quick task. I was already wearing my favorite Betsey Johnson polka-dot bikini under my shorts and tank top, so my supplies consisted only of a pair of flip-flops, a slim rolled towel, a travel-sized sunscreen, and my recently refilled Nalgene. My wallet and room key were safely tucked into the inner-zippered pocket of the bag. I planted my sunglasses on my head, grabbed my phone, and looped one strap over my shoulder. With one final look around the pristine cabin, I locked up and took the now well-worn path up to the tiny deck area on the third level.

Once again, it was blissfully empty. I had lucked out in finding the semi-hidden spot during my aimless wanderings the first night, and quickly discovered that most of the guests preferred to congregate on the main deck with its enormous pool complete with three different slides. The nearby bar helped seal the deal. By comparison, my new hideout consisted only of a handful of lounge chairs partly blocked from the sun by the overhanging balconies.

It was perfection. Isolated and quiet, just as I liked it.

Normally, I popped in my headphones and napped in the fresh air, but there was no time for that now. Instead, I dropped my bag on one of the chairs, leaned against the railing, and wearily watched the rapidly approaching shore. I stared out at the painfully bright turquoise water and briefly indulged in imagining what was going on back in the office. Part of me wished I was there instead, a part that I immediately squashed as effectively as I could.

It wasn’t that I particularly hated cruises, or the ocean, or the perfect tropical weather. Far from it. It was paradise, even I could see that. No, my perpetually melancholy mood was a direct result of the pathetic situation I had found myself in. It was the fact that I was so completely single that I had ended up trapped on this massive floating hotel as a third wheel to my parents.

It wasn’t even like the whole family had been dragged along either. That might have made being on vacation with my parents a bit more palatable. But no such luck. My older sister and brother had escaped this, getting to stay in their respective homes, spending time with their lovely spouses and adorable kids. You know, like normal adults did. They both had their own fun vacations planned, to Disneyland and the Grand Canyon, or wherever, and bringing little kids on a cruise wasn’t the most ideal situation anyway.

And then there was me, guilted into crashing my parents’ favorite empty nest tradition. Immediately after I’d finished law school and had moved into my first real apartment, Sean and Ellie Stanton booked their first cruise in nearly twenty years. And they had enjoyed it enough to keep coming back year after year. Based on the example set by my siblings, my parents assumed that I too would be shortly settled down. That I would have my own significant other to take exotic and romantic trips with.

Needless to say, that inevitability had yet to manifest.

Although I had no problem spending all of my time in the office working my way up in a competitive organization, my parents wouldn’t hear of it. They were fierce advocates of a healthy work-life balance. And if I wouldn’t take time off to get out of the city for a little while, they were going to make me. Thus, after weeks of nagging, I had agreed to join them. It was a Caribbean cruise, after all, it would be great.

Except, as it turned out… it wasn’t all that great. It wasn’t so much relaxing as it was loud, claustrophobic, and chaotic. And being crammed in alongside the thousands of painfully cutesy families and couples was starting to wear on me. It seemed like every single person on the boat was married or engaged, and disturbingly happy. Basically, adding insult to injury.

In an attempt to salvage the trip, and my sanity, I had decided that taking off on my own during the shore excursion was the best course of action. With the shore creeping steadily closer, bringing the promise of freedom, I felt some of my surly mood drifting away.

Ohmygod, babe, that lighthouse is absolutely adorable! We need to get pictures in front of it. For the wedding album! And my dress goes perfectly with the color, don’t you think?

We were in the middle of shuffling down the gangplank like sunburnt zombies when the shrill voice off to my left instantly