CHAPTERS 2 & 3

Chapter 2

For long hours, ignoring his own pain, thirst and hunger, Andrew remained at the deserted beach, cradling Monica in his arms, praying for help, and begging God not to send an angel of death like him to take her Home, and thus, far from him. The constant wind that kept on blowing from the ocean to the small island dried their clothes, and realising that the sun would set in the horizon in a few hours, Andrew understood he had to do something to protect them from the cold night that was about to come.

With his angelic heart filled with pain, he brushed a gentle kiss on Monica's forehead and slowly lay her on the ground one more time. Then, removing some strands of hair from her pretty face, he looked at her for some moments, wishing nothing but to see those sweet doe-like eyes open for him and to hear her soothing voice calling his name in a way that nobody did.

"I'll be right back, okay, angel? I promise."

Kissing the back of her hand, which had also small cuts probably caused by the rocks on the beach, he stood up and headed to the same spot where the remains of their boat were. His body ached terribly, and he wondered if he had some broken ribs. Gathering all his efforts, he started to pick up the suitcases and small objects from the beach. There were clothes inside two of the three bags he had found, one of them women's clothes, possibly of one of the two female researchers who were on board. They would suit Monica perfectly. There was also the third bag, with two blankets and a towel. Although they were all wet, Andrew heaved a sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was to hang them on the tree branches and wait for the wind to dry them.

And that's what he did once he was back at Monica's side. With his eyes permanently set on the little angel fallen on the ground, he took the first aid kit again and started to take care of his own wounds. Bearing the pain caused by the cleaning properties of the alcohol, he treated the nasty cuts in his arm and head, careful to use just the minimal amount of that material, as Monica would have her bandages replaced later.

Using some logs that had fallen from the trees around them, Andrew lit up a fire and once the blankets and a few clothes were dry, he dressed Monica in one of his sweatshirts and involved a quilt around her small form. Wincing with pain, he also dressed a coat, as he knew that the night would be long and he would spend it taking care of the little angel.

And he frowned noticing how cold the wind became once the sun set in the horizon. They definitely couldn't spend the days and nights standing there on the beach and exposed to the weather condition. Fortunately for them that was a clear night, with the sky filled with stars and a shining moon. But what would he do when another storm hit the island in full force? Finding a shelter was a priority for the following day, and he also worried about the island itself. Was it inhabited? What if there were dangerous animals such as snakes or spiders living in it?

His head was spinning and the blond angel sighed deeply, trying to put his thoughts in order. All those worries had to wait for now, as his greatest priority was Monica. She remained unconscious for the rest of the day, and when the night fell, Andrew held her tightly and close to the fireplace. At least she was warm and her wounds were being treated.

Andrew continued to watch as the Irish angel slept in his arms, searching in her face for any sign that she was regaining her consciousness. Once in a while, he would speak softly in her ear, hoping that somehow his words reached her very heart and let her know he was standing there by her side. Hours passed slowly and at a certain moment, he closed his eyes briefly, permanently praying for her recovery.

All of a sudden, however, a whisper interrupted his prayers, and his green eyes were wide open, staring at the hurt angel that was limp in his arms.

"Andrew..."

"Monica? Monica? I'm here, angel! Talk to me! Please, talk to me!"

"Andrew..."

"Monica? Angel, please, tell me, what hurts?" he desperately asked, grasping her trembling hand in his; aware that her entire body was shivering. "Please, angel... please, tell me!"

But the Irish angel could only manage to say one word. "...cold..."

"Cold? You're cold? I..."

Concern written all over his face, Andrew tightened his hold on Monica's hand as with the other one, felt her entire face and gasped at how hot it was. Not only was her forehead burning up, but so was her entire being. The fever was consuming her and it broke his heart to know that there wasn't much he could do for her right now. There was some medicine in the first aid kit and he administered it to her without food or water, and he frowned even more thinking about how dehydrated she might be.

"Sweetie... please, hold on until tomorrow... please... I'll go and get you some water and some food, I promise..." he spoke, tenderly caressing her face, "... can you hear what I say, Monica? Please, angel, answer to me..."

"...cold..." was all she repeated, in between soft moaning - she was deeply hurt and her entire body ached with pain from her several bruises.

The Irish angel spent the rest of the night in his arms, whispering confusing words, begging for help, calling Andrew's name, saying she was cold and afraid. While the terrible flashbacks of the accident kept on playing on her mind, Andrew elected to go on and speak softly in her ear; loving words and happy memories he knew were etched in her heart forever.

Somehow, he hoped they would put her soul at ease. Somehow, he hoped to make her heal.

Chapter 3

Bearing the pain caused by his wounds, Andrew spent the entire night awake, holding Monica tightly and protecting her from the cold and the wind. The little Irish angel was burning with fever and trembling with cold. She was also in shock and kept on crying softly, with memories of the accident permanently playing on her mind like an endless nightmare. Andrew's voice seemed to calm her a little, and his loving words would cease the sequence of terrible flashbacks for some moments. But they would always start all over again, making both of them physically and emotionally exhausted.

The blond angel was a bit more relieved when the sun rose in the horizon. The temperature would soon rise and the day light would allow him to go and search for a shelter and food. He brushed a kiss on Monica's forehead and gently stroked her face, frowning with concern as now it was possible to see how pale she was.

"I'm here, angel... God is watching over us both, but I want you to know that I'm always here by your side, baby... And I'll do everything I can to make you heal..." he whispered, attentively studying the expression on her face, which was a mix of pain and fear, "I'll take care of you, Monica... I promise..."

He spent some more time there, waiting for the sun to rise higher and not really wanting to go away from her.

But the little Irish angel needed all his care and attention, and he had to make that deserted place somewhat inhabitable for both of them. Monica's fragile human form depended on this to survive.

Heartbroken, he kissed her cheek and carefully deposited her on the ground. Andrew was grateful that he'd found the blankets and some clothes on the beach not far from where they were, as if they had spent the night exposed to the cold howling wind, her condition would be even worse now.

He walked along the sand, studying his surroundings, observing the tall trees and dense vegetation that grew in the forest not far from where the waves crashed. He also kept his eyes in the horizon, hoping to spot a boat, an airplane or helicopter searching for the survivors of the accident with "Madeleine," their boat. Besides the crew, there were five scientists on board, two women and three man, and two of them were his and Monica's assignment. He wondered if they had survived, and lifted a prayer for their life.

The blond angel also noticed that there were no birds on that island and the forest was extremely silent. Possibly, there were no animals living on it, and it partially let him a bit relieved. The chances of being bitten by a snake or a spider were reduced to zero if the place was really deserted.

Going a bit further towards the forest, Andrew noticed that it was filled with exotic plants and strange-looking tall trees, which resembled a cross between pines and palm trees. Beautiful coloured flowers, with sweet perfume, bloomed here and there, covering the forest floor with traces of blue, red, yellow and lilac. He was sure that those would enchant Monica once she saw them.

In some places, the ground was mossy and damp, and the trees were close together, somewhat blocking the path and hiding the possible secrets that the island could keep. Not far from them, there was a stream with water and to his relief it was fresh, drinkable water. Extremely thirsty, Andrew knelt on the ground and drank it eagerly, almost desperately.

"Oh, Father... thank you... thank you so much..." he spoke, feeling an inch of guilt for not having Monica by his side right now - she was certainly as thirsty and as hungry as he was.

He also found a plant that grew berries on it, which resembled raspberries. But the blond angel elected to check on it later, not really sure if those berries were safe to eat.

But Andrew's greatest discover was very close to the beach - a small cave, with an interior measuring about 7 to 10 feet and a dry stone floor. Some bushes covered its entrance and it was far enough for the ocean water not to reach it. With quick steps, almost running, he returned to the spot where he'd left Monica. His heart broke all over again at the image of her small form, trembling with cold and fear.

"I'm here, honey... I've found a place for you to stay..." he held her in his arms and carried her along the way back to the cave. There, he deposited her on the ground and returned once again to pick up the clothes and small utensils he had found on the day before. The clothes and blankets were all dry by now and he wondered where he could get a bottle or a bowl in order to catch some water for Monica.

The blond angel went back to the place where he had found the objects and suitcases on the day before and, to his surprise, the sea had delivered some more things on the beach during the night. Amongst them were several cans of beans and peas, and some plastic utensils, such as a bowl and some cups.

Moved with emotion, he raised his eyes up to the sky; his faith renewed with that proof that they were definitely not alone. "Thank you, Father... I know you're watching over us... Thank you so much..."

Soon, he was standing by Monica's side, carefully holding the sick angel again and speaking softly to her. She was still feeling the effects of the high fever; her entire body trembled and she cried in a low voice, speaking confused words that made no sense at all.

When he settled her in his arms again, she winced with pain, and her hoarse voice was even louder.

The blond angel felt a terrible sensation of guilt, as he knew that, even unintentionally, every time he took her in his arms he would hurt her a little. "I'm sorry, angel... Please, forgive me..."

"... please help..." she whispered, not able to understand what he was saying, but somewhat hearing his voice inside her heart.

"I found food and water for you... Here, drink this..."

He carefully approached the plastic cup to her lips and watched as she eagerly drank its content. She was so thirsty that for many times, she coughed as the water went down her throat. "Shh... calm down, sweetie... calm down..." Andrew gently admonished, kissing her temple lovingly. She drank some more and then fell unconscious once again, thought this time, apparently a bit calmer.

The blond angel held her close to him for some more time, relieved that he'd found a shelter. By the middle of the day, the sun was extremely hot and the wind blew stronger now, and he dreaded to imagine what it would be like for Monica to be exposed to this kind of weather.

"Rest now, my angel... I'll take care of you, baby... I'll take care of you..." he whispered, resting his chin on the top of her head; arms protectively wrapped around her small form.