Jack handed him the coffee and Roy left the plane.
The first taste of good java hit his tongue and he felt the jolt hit his system. “Perfect.” He hadn’t slept much the night before. Thoughts of Monica leaving in the middle of the night haunted his dreams. Alternately, her kiss sparked his fantasies.
“I can pay you for your help.”
Trent shook his head. “Not necessary. I assume you’re not here on a pleasure trip.”
Jack offered the seat opposite him and sat down again. “The Morrison was hit hard. I’m told the bungalows on sea level are wiped out, but the main hotel is solid.”
“You’re that Morrison?”
Jack laughed. “One of them anyway.”
Trent thought of his brothers, wondered if they’d met the man in front of him. “I think we might know some of the same people,” he said. “Fairchild Vacation and Charter Tours works with many of your resorts.” The contract had been a reason to celebrate when his father was still alive.
Jack’s eyes lit up. “You’re that Fairchild?”
It was Trent’s turn to laugh. “My brothers run the business.”
“Well, hell. It’s a small-ass world isn’t it?”
“Sure is. Made smaller when you have your own wings.” It was safe to assume the man in front of him had had access to private planes since he was in diapers.
“So are you here checking on your business, too?” Jack asked.
“I live here.”
“Oh. Then you’re the one I need to know. Is there a place to land close to the hotel?”
Trent noticed the map of the island sitting on the table and pulled it over. He went over the options for landing and talked about the condition of the roads.
“And where’s the hospital?”
“Here.” He pointed. “I hope it’s not serious.” It hadn’t dawned on Trent that Jack might have lost someone on the island.
“I need to check on someone. Are there other hospitals, clinics?”
“Several, but this is the only one really operating on this side of the island. There’s a functioning clinic in Port Lucia.”
Jack shook his head. “Well then, looks like we have some flying to do. You sure you’re able?”
Trent finished his coffee and set the cup down. “It’s what I’ve been doing for a week. Bring your own food and water. There isn’t any to spare anywhere.”
Chapter Ten
Trent flew Jack to a clearing used for landing close to his hotel. Trent could see the horror on Jack’s face as the devastation became more than an image on the TV set.
The beach in front of the hotel was yards of debris, washed-away roads, downed trees, and the occasional boat piled above what used to be outbuildings of the hotel.
“How the hell are you dealing with this?” Jack asked Trent before The Morrison Hotel’s management descended upon them.
Trent looked around, thought that everything that wasn’t a body was fixable. “Broken buildings are the easy part. It’s the people that didn’t make it… or only half made it, that are difficult to deal with.”
Jack Morrison was the kind of man Trent would hang out with back home. The occasional friend here on the island had always been a temporary entity. He had his colleagues, and a few friends, but no one he knew understood the world he grew up in. A world where multimillion-dollar airplanes were bought, flown, and enjoyed. Although the Fairchilds had their share of the American pie they didn’t flaunt it.
His mother, Beverly, had always kept their own home, cooked their meals, and driven them to school growing up. His father, Marcus, worked hard, created Fairchild Vacation and Charter Tours to combine the two things he loved in life… flying and travel. He capitalized on his vision using money from investors and his own life savings. When the company took off, he involved Trent and his brothers as much as they would allow.
Outside of the business his parents were always there for him… for all of them. There was nothing any of them could ask that would have been denied. They’d been a close family. Laughing and playing all over the world. God did Trent miss his father’s booming laughter, missed his mother’s sound advice. His parents were insanely happy in their marriage, their life. Trent missed them. Blamed himself for their loss.
Jack had spent a couple of hours at the hotel, talking with those who remained and offering his own personal support to make sure the employees were taken care of. He made notes, and shook hands… and let more than one woman cry on his shoulder.
Trent stood by, watched.
While Jack walked through the hospital, Trent worked his way to where Monica had been when she was at this location. He was pleased to see a few familiar faces from their flights over, assuring him that the relief staff hadn’t yet started their exit from the island.
Trent heard his name through the throngs of people.
He searched for the source of his name and found Kiki lying on a bed.
His heart flipped. “Kiki?”
She reached her hand toward him. Her ever-present smile on her lips. “Trent, my friend.”
He moved to her side, and swept her frame with his eyes, and clasped her hand. “Kiki, my God, are you all right?”
“I’m better.”
Trent hadn’t seen Reynard in days. “Does Reynard know you’re here?”
She nodded. “He found me yesterday.” She lifted a hand to her head. “Out cold I was. The American doctor said I’ll be fine.”
Her left leg was in a splint and she appeared in a bit of a daze. “Reynard told me you were tough,” he said with a wink.
“You flirt.”
“I try.” He made her smile. “Where’s your husband now?”
Her brow pinched together. “The last of the house fell yesterday. He’s looking for shelter. The kids are too many for my mother.”
Trent knew their home was small, and could only imagine Kiki’s mother’s house held less space.
“Perfect,” he said with a smile. He knew he had to play this right or Reynard’s pride would keep him from saying yes.
“What?”
“I need someone to stay in my home when I leave. You, Reynard, and the kids can stay there. Keep an eye on it for me.”
Kiki angled her head, as much as she could while lying flat on a bed. “Trenton! That is not—”
He placed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “My brothers need me back home. I’ll be back… eventually. If I leave it without someone inside the jungle will take it back.”