The risk was a large one but she felt that she could handle it. No one should be expected to live without the one they loved. If there was a way they could be together, she was going to take it. And she knew it would work. It had to work.
It was morning and the sun shone brightly through the pad’s windows, destroying any hope of extra sleep he might want that morning.
Mike threw the pillow over his head and rolled over. “Whattaya want?” he grumbled.
Davy grinned from the other side of the pillow, entirely too cheerful for the early morning after a party.
“We got stuff to do today, mate,” he replied with a smile. “Food to buy, things to do, general stuff!”
“Davy?”
“And we have that meeting today at three, and breakfast to make first o’ course,” Davy continued.
“Davy?”
Davy paused and looked down at Mike. “Yes, Mike?” he asked with entirely too innocent of a face.
Mike flung his pillow at Davy, knocking him in the face, and rolled over to go back to sleep.
It had been a long night, and when she awoke, she was on land. Land. An interesting place she’d never thought she’d be. She stood up, on shaky feet, and look down at herself. Her legs were shaky, and she looked at them in surprise.
From far down the beach, she could see a figure approaching her. Her first instinct was to run and hide, but she was afraid, and she wasn’t certain how running would help her.
As the figure got closer, she saw it was only a small boy, and as it got closer still, she recognized him. He was the same boy she had rescued before.
“Layla,” he called, though he wasn’t certain how he knew her name, and she sat down on the sand. He got closer, and sat down next to her.
“How did you know I’d be here?” she asked, astonished.
The boy shrugged. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here to help, I think.” He grinned, a young, innocent grin that made her feel reassured. “I thought you might need some help,” he added, reaching into the bag he had brought with him.
“What are those?” she asked. He smiled.
“Clothes,” he replied. She glanced down and saw for the first time the slim rags she was wearing.
“I borrowed these from my mother,” the boy continued, pulling out a shirt. “She probably won’t mind as long as I bring them back.” He handed her the shirt and a pair of pants. “Do you think you can get into them yourself?”
She nodded. “What’s your name?” she asked him before turning to put them on.
He smiled again, an innocent, dimpled, and reassuring smile. “Thomas,” he replied. “Call me Thomas.”
