Page 78 of Just My Luck

Robert harvested the jackfruit with one stroke of his machete, and they all took a break to enjoy handfuls of its yellow inner flesh, which tasted vaguely like banana, but juicer.

Zara’s mood lifted as she felt the sunshine on her face and tasted the delicious wild fruit. Lincoln would be fine. He could take care of himself. He’d come back to her. A man like him would make sure to. And when he did…she’d tell him everything in her heart. The joyful, the wary, the ambivalent, all of it.

Sasha, the tropical botany expert, came to squat next to her. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Despite her silvery hair, Zara judged her to be still in her thirties. Her eyes were a shade of blue that was closer to purple, a deep indigo that changed according to the light.

“Sure. Anything.”

“Out of everyone here, I got to know Lincoln the best when he was with us. But I can’t say that I know him well, since he was out of it most of that time. Even when he regained consciousness, he didn’t make much sense. He was having dreams, or flashbacks, or something, when he came out of his coma.”

“He still has those dreams,” said Zara. “But he doesn’t talk much about them. If you want to know what they mean, I have no idea. I get the impression he’s processing something through the dreams.”

Sasha frowned thoughtfully. “Mathilda has been experiencing something similar. Very interesting. Both had prolonged exposure to this crystal Rory’s been talking about.”

“That’s strange.”

“Yes. I’m hoping to study it more, maybe interview Lincoln when he gets back.”

Zara deeply appreciated her use of the word “when.”

“The thing is, there was a date he mentioned. He seemed almost fixated on it when he first came out of his coma. He mentioned it several times. But it was a date in the future. May twentieth of next year. Do you have any idea what that was all about? I’ve always wondered, but I never got the chance to ask him.”

“May twentieth?” Zara searched her memory. “That doesn’t ring a bell. He never mentioned it to me, but that doesn’t mean anything. You can ask him. When he gets back,” she added, echoing Sasha’s words.

“That’s right. When.” Sasha smiled at her. “Let me tell you something, that is one tough guy. I’m not sure even he understands how tough. And now he has something to live for.”

Zara felt her face turn scarlet. “I…ah…”

Luckily, she was saved from answering by the resumption of their trek back to home camp. Had Sasha really been implying that Zara was Lincoln’s reason for living? Lincoln must have a billion reasons…literally.

When they reached the camp, a surprise was waiting for them—the same helicopter that had brought Lincoln and Zara. She recognized the pilot, a muscular man with a wide grin named Malcolm.

She ran over to him. “I’m so glad you’re here. There’s a boat we need to follow. Lincoln’s on it and he could be in danger and⁠—”

“Sorry, ma’am. Lincoln told me to pick you up and under no circumstances take you anywhere except home.”

“What?” She blinked at him. “How…”

Malcolm pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. When she opened it, she found a note written on Seaside Paradise letterhead. “Zara, please go with Malcolm. This is one of my backup plans. Please don’t worry about me. I’m so sorry I got you into this mess. It’s important for me to know that you’re safe, and the best way for that to happen is for you to go with Malcolm.”

She glanced up at him. “When you say ‘home’…”

Was it safe to go home? Her father was there, and he was up to his schemes again. Home was probably the last place she wanted to go right now.

“You’ll see. All the arrangements have been made. My job is just to get you there.”

Sasha and Robert joined them at that point. Sasha’s eyes narrowed as she took in the burly pilot—or rather, the extremely fit and well-muscled pilot. “What makes you think you can keep Zara safer than we can?”

“Ma’am, thank you for asking. I’m former special forces, Purple Heart recipient, four years on the ground in Afghanistan, double Olympic champion in the sports of target shooting and pole vaulting, spent some time in mixed martial arts, taught English as a second language, and won a blue ribbon for biggest pumpkin at the Minnesota state fair when I was twelve.”

Zara couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, and then couldn’t stop, even when Mathilda and Rory came running over to see what the hilarity was about.

“See, Sasha? He grew a giant pumpkin. I’ll be fine,” she finally said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Sasha folded her arms across her chest, still in a standoff with Malcolm. “What kind of pumpkin?” she finally asked.

He didn’t blink. “Dill’s Atlantic Giant, of course. It’s really the only option.”