"I didn't want a drink. I wanted to have my faculties about me when you showed up with . . ." She paused and looked at him again, as if realizing she should tread lightly on the subject of Shelli. "I had a Coke Light, hoping to get rid of him. You never showed up."

Paul closed his eyes and exhaled, thinking, wishing he'd been there. "I'm sorry. Rhees. I tried to get back. I wish I would have made it back sooner."

"I felt sick. That's all I remember."

Paul nodded in understanding. "You should drink some water. It'll help you rinse that shit out of your system."

"What shit?"

"That creepazoid, as you called him, gave you Rohpynol-a date-rape drug."

"No. They put that in alcohol. I didn't have alcohol. I only had a diet Coke."

"He must have put it in your Coke."

"But I didn't know they could do that-" She let out a little whimper which melted his heart as he felt it sinking in for her. "They put that in alcohol-I only had a Coke. I didn't know."

"Neither did I," he said. "I've been reading about it while you've been asleep. It'll dissolve-even in water. It's tasteless, odorless. You couldn't have known. He preyed on you-your empathy. You can't be mean to anyone-unless they really piss you off." Paul chuckled, remembering how feisty she could be when pushed too far.

She let out another sob, bringing him back to the current problem.

"Shhh." Paul squeezed her to him and kissed the top of her head. "It's not your fault. You only see the good in people. You didn't see it coming."

"I didn't think he was a good person, I didn't like him, but I still had no idea. I'm so stupid." She stopped crying, abruptly turning to gauge Paul's facial expression, wearing frightened uncertainty on hers. "What happened?"

"He tried to take you out of the bar," Paul said, but he sensed what she feared and hurried to assure her. "But Regina wouldn't let him. Thank goodness!"

The thought of Mario coming so close-the thought of Rhees being taken that way-Paul had been beating himself up, unable to forgive himself for being late. The thought of . . . if he'd been any later . . .

"Regina warned me about this-she was right." Rhees' voice sounded as if she was barely able to hold it together.

"It's not your fault!"

Rhees shook her head, and he wondered how she could blame herself.

"I am so sorry." Paul tightened his hold and felt her trembling. "I shouldn't have been late." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

The second morning after the Mario incident, Rhees hadn't moved far from the mat on the deck. She slept most of the time but Paul remained faithfully at her side, anticipating her every need. He tried to get her to eat, but she couldn't manage more than a bite. He persisted with the water, but she grew annoyed with him for pestering her about it.

"Worley needs to question you." Paul looked concerned. "Are you up for that?"

"I can't remember anything. I don't know how much help I'll be."

"I'm sure it's just procedure. He said he'd come by after the shop closes, okay?"

Rhees had no control over her body-the nervousness, the jitters, jumping at the slightest sound. She wasn't just sad-she was depressed and disenchanted with life. She felt embarrassed, positive that any other girl would have known better. She just knew the girls at the shop were all judging her, but Paul insisted everyone seemed genuinely concerned-almost everyone.

Krista and Dorene had sincerely apologized to Rhees for not helping her that night and they tried to convince Ulla to apologize as well. Not only did Ulla refuse, but she said Rhees deserved worse-that if it wasn't for Rhees, Shelli wouldn't have left the shop.

Paul overheard her tirade and promptly urged Ulla to move on, go to another shop-or better yet, another island. She followed his advice.

Rhees didn't move much all day, still nauseated, tired, and confused. She slept a lot. When she wasn't asleep, she lay on the edge of the deck and stared at the water below. She enjoyed the breeze off the ocean, the only comfort she found.

Paul kept saying he could tell she'd prefer to be left alone, but he continued attending to her. She tolerated him rather patiently. Her compassionate sensibilities wouldn't allow her to tell him where to go, and when all was said and done, she'd be lost without him. He'd become the only thing that made sense in her suddenly crazy reality.

Worley, a white man descended from pirates, pulled up one of the deck chairs and sat while Rhees and Paul stayed on the mat. Paul sat next to her.

"I know, based on the nature of the drug, you prob'ly don't remember much, but I have ta ask, what do you remember 'bout the other night?" Either his island accent wasn't as thick and hard to understand as most of the locals, or Rhees was finally starting to understand it more easily.

Rhees nodded, confirming Worley's conclusion. She looked at Paul and could tell his smile was a poor attempt to mask his concern. She recited the same memories she'd told Paul about the incident.

"Well, I think we have enough ta go by from Paul an' Regina's accounts ta put this guy away. Plus . . ." Worley studied Paul's face carefully. "Some boys, they was playin' in the jungle. 'Parently, they've built a li'l fort. They were on their way ta it when they stumbled upon a woman. They thought she was dead an' ran ta get their parents. We found her . . . when was da last time you saw Shelli?"

"Shelli again," Paul muttered but then he realized why Worley asked. The woman in the jungle . . . his heart skipped a few beats. "Shell? She's . . . dead?"

"No. She's been beaten pretty good though. It's lucky she was found when she was. We sent her ta the hospital on the mainland. I heard you two had a his'try. Didn't end well."

"You think I beat her up?"

"Nah. Doc says, lookin' at her bruises, she was beat Friday night or Saturday mornin'. You didn't get back till late Saturday night. You know who'd be wantin' ta hurt her?"

Paul thought for a minute and then looked down at Rhees, remembering the things she'd rambled on about Shelli before she was lucid. He closed his eyes and licked his lips a few times, his mouth puckered and unpuckered. He let out a loud sigh, just now putting it all together.

"Apparently, her new boyfriend told everyone they broke up. He spread the word, said he thought she'd gone to the mainland-with me. I haven't seen Shell for days. The last time I did, guess who she snuggled up to, all cozy, at Tanked?-Mario hurt Shell."

Paul couldn't stand the thought of what Mario had had in mind for Rhees. He stared at the floor in front of him. His breathing grew shallow-louder as he struggled to control his temper. He felt an intense need to slam his fist into something-Mario's face would be perfect again-he wished he'd finished the job when he had the scumbag all but incapacitated. Just a few more blows and- "Paul, don't." Rhees' face was right in front of his. He didn't know how he'd missed her moving in so close.

"Don't what?" He felt disoriented.

"I know that face. It's the one I imagine, over and over, the one you wore when you beat the hobo to within an inch of his life. Please don't think that way."

Paul took a deep breath, wanting to appease her. He turned to Worley. "The man's an even bigger monster than we thought."

"Good thing we have him then. As soon as Shelli wakes up an' tells us her story, we'll confirm all that. He won't be tastin' freedom for a while."

Worley left Paul and Rhees alone on the deck.

"What do you want to do?" Paul took her hand in his. "Do you want to go back to your place?"

She shook her head. "I don't think I could walk that far."

"I'll call Ignacio. You shouldn't walk in your condition."

She thought about it for a minute but shook her head. "Can I just stay here again tonight? I really like the ocean breeze. The shop's deck has the best breeze on the island, and my apartment-"

"Of course," he said. "It's peaceful here when everyone's gone for the day. I sleep here sometimes, on the rare occasion I find myself-" He caught himself, wished he hadn't started to say it. "Alone for the night."

He glanced at her to see if she'd caught what he meant. His sex life was no secret between them but for some reason, right now didn't seem like the time to remind her about it. A look of disappointment crossed her face.

"I'm sorry. I've been hanging around people too much like me for too long. I feel like a bumbling buffoon around you."

"Don't. Just be yourself."

"Believe me. You don't want me to be myself." He inhaled deeply, let it out and then backtracked to where the conversation had gone before he sidetracked it. "I sleep here sometimes. My apartment is small. I have issues with confinement."

"Don't we all?"

"We can stay right here tonight. Is the mat comfortable enough?"

"Yeah, it's very comfortable, but . . ."

"But what? Do you want a better pillow? Clean sheets? I have more sheets at my apartment. I kind of have a thing about sheets-"

"The mat's fine, the pillow's fine, so are the sheets." She looked up at the night sky and exhaled. "Um . . . I was hoping . . . to be alone."

"No." It came out sounding too much like there would be no discussion. He softened his tone. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Her gaze shot up to meet his, and he recognized the dread. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to cry. She didn't want him around, and it saddened him. He sighed.

"Okay. Let me get you a few things first."

He grabbed the sheets and a pillow he'd stored in the spare room at the shop from the previous night. He helped her make the mat more comfortable and left some water.

"Thank you. I'll be all right."

Anxious to get rid of me, he thought, and again it disappointed him.

"Okay, good night then," he said quietly. He didn't really want to leave her. "Don't forget to drink some water, and-"

"Paul!" She cut him off a little more irritably than she would have under normal circumstances. Her eyes were already starting to tear up. She wouldn't be able to hold it back much longer.

"I'm leaving." He hesitated a second before walking around the corner of the building, where she could no longer see him. He stood for another second, waiting and listening-but nothing. He wondered if he'd assumed wrong.

He sat down on the bench next to the office and waited. Two minutes later, he heard her cry. He pursed his lips and hung his head. Thirty minutes of torture later, he slid silently into the hammock and waited some more. He didn't know exactly what he was waiting for, but he wasn't about to leave her, even if she didn't know he had to be there for her.

Another thirty minutes later, he noticed a difference in the sounds coming from the deck. He hoped it meant she'd made it through the worst of it. Her convulsive sobs had finally settled to a quiet weep with intermittent intakes of staccato breaths.

He climbed out of the hammock and carefully made his way back to her. He didn't know if she'd heard him, but she didn't flinch when he climbed onto the mat, next to her. She lay on her side when he snuggled up behind her, put his arm over her, and rested his cheek against hers. A few minutes later, she took a deep breath and fell asleep in his arms.

Paul didn't know what woke him. Careful not to wake Rhees, he checked his watch. Only three in the morning.

"Please no!" she cried in a weak voice. "I promise not to tell my mommy," she whimpered.

"Shh, it's only a dream." He tried to comfort her, but when he tried to pull the hair away from her face, she writhed and swatted his hands away.

"Ow! Stop. Please." She cried and thrashed before she finally woke up and realized where she was.

"Hey, it was just a dream-a bad one." Paul leaned over her, concerned. "It's okay. No one's going to hurt you-I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I'm sorry." She panted and took a second to catch her breath, calm down.

"What did you dream about?"

"I don't know." Her answer came out curt.

"You've already forgotten?" He chuckled warily. He'd heard the things she'd said in her sleep.

"I don't know . . . yeah," she said, still out of breath.

"You were scared, and in pain, I think. Ring a bell?" He really wished she'd confide in him.

"No." She looked up at the early morning sky so she wouldn't have to see the concern in his eyes anymore. He lay back down so they were both on their backs.

"Well . . . at this point, I usually tell the girls I've slept with that it was nice, and I hope we can do it again sometime, but not too soon. Somehow that doesn't seem right in this case." He glanced over at her to watch her reaction.

She finally laughed and he felt better hearing it.

"Thank you."

"For what?" He watched her.

"I don't know . . . for sticking around? You haven't left my side-even when I asked you to. That means a lot to me."

"It's nothing-just what a friend would do, right?"

"Yeah . . . a friend," she said. She finally looked at him. Her voice turned quiet. "Thank you for being my friend. I've felt kind of alone in the world lately."

"I'm not that good a friend." He knew what kind of person he was, and he didn't want her getting too comfortable with him.

"You're the best friend I have." Her voice level dropped to barely audible.

"That's not true." Paul rolled over to face her. "What about Claire? And Dobbs? Tracy and Regina? You have the whole Williams family, too."

That made her smile. "You're right. I really do love everyone here. Well, almost everyone." She tried to laugh. "Claire. Claire is a good friend . . . and Dobbs, but he's kind of weird around me-ever since I hugged him-when he gave me the peanut butter. I shouldn't have hugged him. I'm worried he's afraid I don't realize he's married-or that I don't care that he is-I don't think he knows me well enough to know I'd never do that." Paul cleared his throat and neither of them said anything for a minute.

"Do you want to go home?" Paul finally asked, quietly.

"Home?" She smirked.

"You know, Utah. Where your family, your real friends, can take care of you . . . until you get over . . . get better."