Happiness

I

Leaning over the railing on the deck of the transport ship, staring out at the endless blue waves, Vaughn wondered if she was happy.

It had been months since he'd been back, and anything could have happened since then. Though always busy with the ranch, Chelsea somehow made time for the rest of the villagers and was well liked by all. She had probably moved on– she could have any man on the island. And as long as she was happy...

Vaughn bristled as one of the deck hands approached. "Hey there. You're looking surlier than usual." Vaughn grunted– which only elicited a laugh from the other man. "Cheer up. Next stop's the island of happiness after all." He walked off with a laugh.

Breathing deeply of the salty, sea air, Vaughn reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled red bandana. He raised it to his face and inhaled... and the scent of her skin filled his nostrils even now.

The island of happiness indeed.

He couldn't remember precisely what time of the year it had been when the crew had begun calling the island by that name, but he remembered how much it had irritated him...

ooo

As Vaughn stepped onto the walkway to board the transport ship, he had to quash the urge to whistle. His belly was full with a hot meal from the island's diner and his lungs full of cool, evening air. What more could a man want? And it hadn't hurt that Chelsea had just happened to drop in as he'd been having dinner... as was so often the case of late. That hadn't hurt at all.

"Well someone's got some spring in his step tonight." Vaughn halted there on the deck and turned to face the crewman. He spent enough time on this ship that the crew seemed to consider him an honorary member– and a dubious honour it was.

He hooked his thumbs into his belt and glowered from under the brim of his Stetson. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing. Just that whenever we pick you up from this place you look almost... happy."

"Happy?" chimed in another of the men. "Vaughn?"

"Well... less grumpy anyway."

The second man laughed. "Suppose you're right. Got a girl on the island, Vaughn?"

Vaughn snorted. "I don't have time to settle down."

The first crewman laughed and slapped him on the back. "No one said anything about that. But a man don't have that kind of strut unless he's getting some."

"Shut up and mind your own damned business," Vaughn snapped.

"She got a sister?" said the second crewman with a laugh.

At this, Vaughn turned on his heel and marched away. He had to rise early and didn't have time for their asinine banter. Yet even as he headed below deck, one of them called out, "Guess from now on we'll be calling it the island of happiness, eh Vaughn?"

Damned sailors.

ooo

He spent the rest of that week brooding over what the crewmen had said. Chelsea was pleasant, it was true, but he didn't believe you could find happiness with other people. Sooner or later they always let you down. You got attached and they got busy, or caught up in their own affairs, or they just ran off like... Either way, you got hurt. There was no sense counting on other people.

But Chelsea was a nice girl and he didn't like the crewman talking about her that way. She wasn't like that. In fact she was... unusual. Even from the start...

ooo

He bristled as she hailed him in the animal shop. "What's up?"

"Do I need a reason to say hello to you?" she said, lips quirked into a smile. Even this early in the year, her skin was tanned from her long hours in the fields. A strand of her hair, peeking out from under the bandanna she wore to keep it back, had fallen into her face and he had to repress the sudden urge to reach over and brush it back behind her ear.

And she was still standing there, peering at him in apparent amusement. "Don't talk to me. You're a distraction."

She quirked a brow, her smile taking on a decidedly lopsided turn. "Oh, I'm a distraction now, am I?"

Amusement was not what he'd being going for. He had work to do. He didn't have time to... socialize.

"Well, while I'm being so distracting... I was hoping you'd try this."

She pushed a bottle into his hands and for a moment he stared at it, dumbfounded. "What is it?"

"Milk. From my ranch," she added as he continued to gape at her. "Try it."

"Fine."

"So? How is it?"

"Good," he replied.

Her smile was as bright as the summer sunshine. "Oh good. It's my first cow, you know so... But I'm glad. A 'good' from you is worth an 'excellent' from anyone else."

It was only later that he admitted to her that he had a soft spot for milk. It didn't fit his image, he knew (it smacked too much of the old joke about the cowboy who walks into a bar and orders milk instead of whiskey). But for a long time afterward, what he'd remembered the most was the warmth of her smile and that stray lock of hair.

ooo

After that it seemed like he was always running into her around town on the days he was on Sunny Island. He kept his hours as regular as possible– for the sake of efficiency of course... though if it made it easier for her to run into him then he wasn't about to complain.

So when the crewmen on the ship began to tease him, he did what he usually did: he ignored them. Chelsea was friendly. She got along with everyone on the island. He wasn't about to read anything into it.

At least not until the night of the fireworks festival...

ooo

The evening breeze was cool against his face as he stood in the meadow, thumbs hooked into his belt and peering around at the assembled townsfolk. It's like Noah's ark around here.

Denny was off to one side with the pop idol– telling a fishing story, judging by the way he waved his arm as if casting a line. Julia was chatting amiably with Taro's grandson, and the cooking fellow– Pierre?– was standing nearby alongside Nathalie.

He craned his neck. It wasn't exactly that he was looking for anyone... he was just curious. After all, it wouldn't be a proper festival without the one who was responsible for the entire island's financial prosperity. His heart began to race when he spotted Chelsea crossing the bridge to the meadow, a blanket slung over her arm.

She paused to say hello to those who greeted her, but all the while she was scanning the meadow. Her face lit up and she waved and Vaughn had to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder and check if someone was standing behind him. She was walking towards him.

"Vaughn," she said, smiling. "I wasn't sure you'd attend."

He shrugged. "I finished my work for the day and someone mentioned the show so..."

"In that case... Do you want to find a patch of grass and we can watch the show together?"

He cleared his throat. All at once it seemed uncomfortably warm. "I've seen fireworks before," he said with a grunt. But then he tipped his hat, "But if you insist, I'll watch them with you." And then after she agreed, "Okay. I don't want to though."

Her lips quirked. "Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Come on," she said snagging his arm and dragging him to an open patch of grass. She spread out the blanket she'd brought and together they sat down.

The sky was cloudless and as full of stars as anyone could hope for. As they sat together in silence, waiting for the show to start, she gazed up at the sky, a tiny smile flitting onto her face. He wondered what the sky looked like where she'd grown up. They said city lights drowned out the stars. A cool breeze teased at her hair, sending wisps of it into her face and Vaughn felt warm. It was a relief when the fireworks display finally started.

The chirrup of crickets was drowned by the clap of the fireworks bursting to life, setting the sky alight. Bursts of colour shattered in the sky above them– scarlet, mauve, emerald– as vivid as the hues of summer flowers.

There were oohs and ahhs from the crowd. He started as one particularly loud bang caught him off guard and his hand brushed up against hers. He froze. His breath caught in his throat as Chelsea's fingers interlaced with his.

But then the sky exploded once more with colour in a grand finale. "They're beautiful," he whispered.

"Yeah," she murmured, eyes fixed above.

As the echoes of the final bangs faded away, people around them began getting up to leave, chattering merrily, smiles on their faces.

"I guess it's time to get going then,"Chelsea said, not quite meeting his eyes as she got to her feet.

"Yeah," he said. And then, as she was rolling up the blanket, "It was actually pretty nice to watch the fireworks with you."

The smile on her face was brighter than all the fireworks together.

ooo

It had nagged at him. Happiness. Did he really have more spring in his step on Wednesdays and Thursdays? During the intermittent days after the fireworks show he'd been able to do nothing but brood. He'd had to wait all week to do anything and it had been a week filled with disasters: a horse that had picked up a nail in its hoof during offloading, a cow that had gotten loose during transport, miscounted sheep, and stormy seas. By the time he'd gotten to Wednesday, there hadn't been much spring left in his step, island of happiness or no.

They'd arrived late on the island– another disaster to wreak havoc on his timetable and he hadn't seen Chelsea all day. By the time he finished dinner without seeing hide nor hair of her all day, he finally decided to ask the diner's owner.

"You seen Chelsea, by any chance?"

"She was just down at the beach, man." Vaughn spun to see that fisherman– Denny– walking up to the counter to order. Half the island ate here in the evening.

"Thanks," Vaughn said, tipping his hat and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

His boots scuffed along the worn flagstone road as he passed. It would have been quaint had some of the flagstones not been loose or uneven. Yet another thing in this rag-tag community that needed to be fixed. Chelsea was always putting up money for public projects so it wouldn't surprise him if she eventually pushed for some better roads.

He snorted. Everything here lead back to her somehow.

When he finally arrived at the beach and saw no one at all, he thought perhaps he'd missed her. He'd have to wait till tomorrow then; it would be strange to drop by the ranch this late, especially when he'd only been there once before, on the day he'd first come to the island.

Just out of reach of the lapping waves, Vaughn strolled along the shoreline, silvered by moonlight. He took a deep breath of salty air and let the lull of the waves wash over his thoughts. He had always loved the outdoors, and he had grown to love the sea as well. Calm summer evenings like this were as close as a man could get to paradise. If only he could have settled matters with–

Chelsea.

She started as he approached, dropping the fishing pole gripped in her hands. "Vaughn... you startled me."

"Sorry," he murmured.

"I thought you weren't here today," she said.

"We got in late. Made my schedule pretty hectic."

"Oh."

After a moment she looked as if she were about to say something but then broke off and they remained in silence, Chelsea sitting on the beach at a spot where the shore dropped off steeply, and he, standing over her.

How to begin. He cleared his throat. "I–" She looked up at him. He cleared his throat once more. "Didn't know you could fish. It's not too often you meet a woman who knows how to handle a pole."

It took him a moment– as she bit her lip in a not-quite-successful attempt to stifle a laugh– to replay what he'd just said and figure out what had gone wrong. He could feel his face growing rather warm as he did. "A fishing pole," he amended, and sat down next to her.

"I used to go camping with my family when I was younger," she said, looking out over the sea. "My dad taught me to fish."

"Catch anything?"

"Not tonight. Nothing's biting."

"That's life, I guess."

"I don't mind. Really, I do it because it gives me a chance to think."

He shifted. "About what?"

"Anything. The ranch. New recipes to try out. Chickens. People..."

"People, huh?"

"Yes." He caught her darting a glance in his direction and all at once he wanted to pull that bandanna off so he could tangle his fingers in her hair.

He clenched his hands in his lap and tried not to think of the way the moonlight made her skin as pale as porcelain. "Why me?" he said all at once.

"What?"

"You could've invited anyone to see the fireworks. There are half a dozen guys on this island who'd have loved to go with you. So why me?"

She was looking out at the water again as she spoke. "Did you know you can hum snails out of their shells?"

"Huh?"

"If you hold a snail up near you face and hum, they sense the vibrations and slowly they'll poke their heads out of their shells. If you do it just right."

"I didn't know that."

"It's a trick I learned as a kid. They have this really tough shell because without it, they're vulnerable– anything could hurt them. But if you hum just right, just gently enough, they crawl out and you can see them as they are. I always liked to call them out, just... to see them."

"Chelsea..."

"I thought that maybe it might... work the same way with people."

And then he kissed her.

Her lips tasted of sea salt.

As they parted, he was afraid that she'd want to talk about it– about them– but she only smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. For a long while, they sat together in silence as the fish continued to not bite.