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Delanie's problems weren't of titanic proportions, thank God, but she'd had enough trouble with rumors surrounding her life to have knocked her down a few pegs. Everyone wanted to break the worst possible news about Delanie Skhye. The tabloids loved the bad and hated the good. Usually, the bad wasn't nearly as horrible as the news rags portrayed, and the good was better than they let on. She needed the press and the press needed her to be stupid. It was a vicious cycle. This island home would be her break from the crazy rumors and trash talk.

One month. It had seemed like such a short time in the grand scheme of things, but on the third day she freaked. A quick call to the pilot would bring him back, and then what? Ruined plans and more pressure, not something she needed. She sat on the black kitchen chair and rocked back and forth for over thirty minutes. Staying here would be the break she needed, but alone never felt so alone back in the states. Of course she was never truly alone at home. Lucy had always been a phone call away. And if Lucy was busy then a long list of people were always at the ready to come and play.

The lack of mechanical noises felt almost eerie. No planes or helicopters buzzed overhead. No cars sped by with angry motorist blaring their horns. The silence got to her. She raced out of the kitchen and down to the small lagoon. With her hands braced on her knees she breathed in deep, trying to catch her breath. Oh, good God, what would people say if they could see her now?

The gentle roll of the waves up the beach was hypnotic. After recovering from her mad dash down to the lagoon she strolled over and let the water cool her feet. She closed her eyes and wondered how she would feel at the end of the month without any human interaction. The sailboat from last night had stayed away after all. She wasn't sure if it was the sign on the dock telling boaters to keep away or just general lack of interest in the island.

The beach at the cove was small and only took a few minutes for her to run from one end to the other. Little waves left behind diminutive arched designs on the sand, not at all like the great rolling waves on the other side of the island which turned the sand in on its self, leaving shells and seaweed scattered across the white expanse.

She turned to the trees behind her. The tall palms stood beside shorter bushes. Different shades of green filled every available space. Red, yellow, and purple flowers popped out in the vegetation. There was so much to explore on this island. At some point during the first day, otherwise known as instruction day, she had promised not to stand on the overlook at the northern tip. The drop was forty feet straight down into crashing waves. She would go up there at some point, just not to the edge.

"Ha, this is more like reality than what I've been living." Delanie covered her mouth, and began giggling. "I am so going to have to get over not talking to myself." She'd spent years perfecting the art of never speaking aloud to herself. The entertainment industry was cutthroat. Any hint that you were a bit touched and your name would be splashed across the worst of the magazines trashing you to bits. So far she'd avoided any problems with being labeled crazy.

If she could survive the tabloids then she could survive a few more weeks of solitude. She threw off thoughts of calling for the pilot and ran up the long walkway to the house, admiring the thick vegetation as she went. This really was paradise.

After a quick change into her swimsuit she sprayed on sunscreen, making sure to double coat her back. With a pair of sandals in hand, she skipped down the walkway to stairs leading out to the beach on the wild side if the island.

The path was steep and filled with steps that could trip her up. Ascending during the daylight hours didn't bother her, but nighttime would be a different story.

Bright sun turned the beach golden and sparkled off the waves. She spun around, loving that the house wasn't visible from the beach. She could sit out here all-day and pretend that she was shipwrecked with no food or water. At some point she would build a fire and try to light it like in the movies. Of course no one in the movies actually used rocks and sticks to light a fire, but she would love pretending. And just like on set she would have matches stowed away in her pocket just in case she couldn't get the fire going. She would sip coconut juice and enjoy a fresh caught fish.

The waves crashed and rolled high on the sand. The cool water felt good on her toes. She picked up seashells and piled them up in the dry zone. After a few hours of trolling the beach she'd collected about forty beautiful shells that were unbroken.

The roaring sound of a huge wave crashed on the shore. She turned to see the water rushing at her. A shriek burst from her lips. She ran towards the steps leading back to the house. The water caught her and slammed little pellets of sand into her calves.

As quick as the water had advanced it rolled back into the ocean. She fell to the sand in a fit of the giggles. All of the shells she'd gathered had washed back into the water except for a few. She crawled over to the six shells still on the sand and picked them up. "I'm going to make some jewelry from you six. Or maybe I'll find a frame and hot glue you little suckers around the edge. Aren't you glad you decided to stick with me?"

Delanie ran up the steps, looking back only once. The horizon looked funny. A dark color smudged the sky, almost like smoke from a fire.

She blew it off and continued up the steps. Tomorrow she'd come back and play in the frothy surf. Now it was time for dinner and an early bedtime so she could wake and see the sun rise.

Copyright Sara Thacker 2011