Why have I never seen this movie? It sounds awesome.

”But then Penny, Johnny’s dance partner got pregnant, and Baby had to fill in. There was this tricky lift, and Baby couldn’t do it at first, so they practiced in the water.”

“And that’s what you want to do?” If it meant touching her, I was all for it.

“I’ve always wanted to try it. It can’t be that hard.”

She stood in front of me and said, “Okay, I’m going to run toward you, and when I jump, put your hands here.” She took my hands and put them on her hips. “Then lift me straight up over your head. Do you think you can lift me?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Of course I can lift you.”

“For some reason, Baby wore pants in the water when she did this, which I never understood. Okay, are you ready?”

I said yes, and Anna ran toward me and jumped. The minute my hands touched her hips, she collapsed on me because she said it tickled. My face ended up in her crotch.

We untangled ourselves and she said, “Don’t tickle me next time.”

I laughed. “I didn’t tickle you. I put my hands where you told me to.”

“Okay, let’s do it again.” She backed up to get a running start. “Here I come.”

This time, when I lifted her, the water was too deep and I couldn’t stay on my feet. I fell backward and she landed on top of me, which didn’t suck.

“Shit, that was my fault,” I said. “We need to move into shallower water. Try again.”

This time we did it perfectly. I lifted her up and she stretched out her arms and legs and arched her back.

“We did it,” she yelled.

I held her as long as I could, and then lowered my arms. I had taken a few steps backward beyond a slight drop-off, and as soon as her feet touched the bottom, her head went under. I reached down and lifted her up. She took a breath and put her arms around my neck. A few seconds later, she wrapped her legs around my waist and held on.

She looked surprised, maybe because she didn’t expect the water to be over her head, or maybe because I had her ass in my hands.

“I’m not bored at all now, Anna.” In fact, if I moved her a little lower, she’d feel exactly how not bored I was getting.

“Good.” She still had her arms and legs wrapped around me, and I was thinking about kissing her when she said, “We have company.”

I looked behind me as four dolphins swam into the lagoon, poking us with their snouts and begging us to play with them. Disappointed, I moved into shallower water and set her down, making sure she had her footing on the ocean floor.

I liked playing with the dolphins, but I liked playing with Anna a whole lot more.

Chapter 25 – Anna

We sat under the awning playing poker, watching the storm roll in. Lightning zigzagged across the sky, and the humid air pressed down on me like a blanket. The wind picked up and scattered our cards.

“We better go in,” T.J. said.

Once inside, I stretched out beside him in the life raft and watched the interior of the house light up with each lightning strike.

“We won’t get much sleep tonight,” I said.

“Probably not.”

We lay next to each other, listening to the rain beat against the house. Only a few seconds separated the crash of thunder.

“There’s never been so much lightning before,” I said. Even more unsettling, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end from the electrically-charged air. I told myself the storm would end soon, but as the hours passed, it only intensified.

When the walls started shaking, T.J. climbed out of the life raft and reached into my suitcase. He turned around and threw my jeans at me. “Put these on.” He grabbed his own jeans and stepped into them. Then he shoved the fishing pole into the guitar case.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think we can ride this out here.”

I got out of bed and pulled my jeans on over my shorts. “Where else would we go?” As soon as I asked, I knew. “No! There’s no way I’m going in there. We’ve made it through other storms okay. We can stay here.”

T.J. grabbed his backpack and stuffed the knife, rope, and first-aid kit inside. He tossed me my tennis shoes and jammed his feet into his Nikes without untying the laces first. “There’s never been one this bad,” he said. “And you know it.”

I opened my mouth to argue with him, and the roof blew off.

T.J. knew he had won. “Let’s go,” he said, barely audible over the howling wind. He slipped his arms through the backpack and handed me the guitar case. “You’ll have to carry this.” He picked up the toolbox in one hand and my suitcase in the other, and we hurried through the woods to the cave. The rain pelted us and the wind blew so violently, I thought it might knock me off my feet.

I hesitated at the entrance of the cave.

“Get in, Anna,” he yelled.

I bent down, trying to work up the courage to crawl inside. The sudden cracking of a tree branch sounded like a gunshot, and T.J. put his hand on my butt and shoved. He pushed the guitar case, toolbox, and suitcase in after me, and followed behind right before the tree fell, blocking the entrance to the cave and plunging us into darkness.

I collided with Bones like a bowling ball into ten pins. The skeleton scattered across the floor of the cave, and a few seconds later, T.J. landed in a heap beside me.

The two of us – and everything we owned – barely fit in the small space. We had to lay flat on our backs, shoulder to shoulder, and if I stretched my arm out, I could have touched the cave wall, inches to my right; T.J. could have done the same on his left. The cave smelled like dirt, decaying plants, and animals I hoped weren’t bats. Grateful to be wearing jeans, I crossed my feet at the ankles to prevent anything from crawling up my pant legs. The ceiling was less than two feet above our heads. It was like being in a coffin with the lid closed, and I panicked, heartbeat thundering, gasping, feeling like I couldn’t get enough air.

“Try not to breathe so fast,” T.J. said. “As soon as it stops, we’re out of here.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. Just block everything out. Leaving the cave now is not an option.

T.J. took my hand and laced his fingers through mine, squeezing gently. I squeezed back, holding onto his hand like a lifeline.

“Don’t let go,” I whispered.

“I wasn’t going to.”

We stayed in the cave for hours, listening as the storm raged outside. When it finally stopped, T.J. shoved the tree branches away from the entrance. The sun was up and we crawled out, gazing in shock at the devastation.

The storm toppled so many trees it was like picking our way through a maze to get back to the beach. When we finally made it out of the woods, we both stared.

The house was gone.

T.J. looked at the ground where it once stood. I hugged him and said, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t respond, but he put his arms around me and we stayed like that for a long time.

We scoured the area and found the life raft shoved against a tree. We checked it carefully for holes, and I listened for the hiss of escaping air, but didn’t hear anything. The water collector floated in the ocean several yards offshore, and the tarp and roof canopy lay tangled amid the piles of wood that were once our home.

The seat cushions, life jackets, and blanket were scattered across the sand. We left them to dry in the sun. We attached the roof canopy to the life raft, but T.J. had cut away the nylon sides and the roll-down door to use on the house. The canopy would shield us from rain but we no longer had any protection from the mosquitoes.

We spent the rest of the day constructing another lean-to and gathering firewood, piling it inside so it could dry. T.J. went fishing, and I collected coconut and breadfruit.