Somewhere in the middle ground of far away and nearby children were screaming and shouting in joy, mixed in with a deep resonant barking of a far too excited dog. A dog that had to be the size of a small horse for a bark that deep. The gentle crashing of waves was interspersed with splashing, usually with more screaming and barking.

Far closer, but out of sight in the canopy above the cabana cabin, were a couple of native tropical birds, chirping and whistling away as they informed each other of the day’s events. Possibly complaining about the dog and children nearby. Or the human below them minding his own business. Branches and leaves occasionally rustled as they moved about, hopping around as they were wont to do so.

And immediately within reach, Charles MacIntyre looked away from his book to glare at the large glass beside him as ice cubes clinked loudly, jostling to surface and repositioning as the glass was refilled. Cool, clear liquid washed over the frozen cubes, lifting them from the bottom of the glass, swirled them around the mint leaves already present. A drop of condensate, building on the outside of the glass for a few minutes now, finally took the plunge downwards, staining the coaster like so many others.

“Thank you,” MacIntyre said, looking up to woman refilling the glass, offering a smile as she winked at him. “We have any plans this afternoon?”

Blake Pisani, much like Charles MacIntyre, was dressed for the beach climate. Much the same even in khaki shorts, though her colourful shirt was based more around the colour blue as compared to Mac’s dark green, and cut slightly better than Mac’s own baggy shirt. And the pattern was a lot less busy than her partners was.

“Hmm,” she said, setting a jug down on the small table next to Mac’s lounger, the contents of nearly gone now Mac’s glass was refilled. A wave of her hand and Mac scooted over enough to let perch on the edge, turned to face him. “I got us a table for lunch in the village in about thirty minutes. That fresh seafood place by the wharf. Trader Joe’s I think?”

“So, leave in about ten minutes?” Mac asked.

“Emm hmm,” Blake hummed. “And then I was thinking we could do that cycling tour of the island?”

“Cycle around the entire island?” Mac asked, folding the corner of the page he was on before closing the book, his attention now fully with Blake. “An entire island?”

“It’s like two, three hours at most,” Blake countered, reaching out to gently jab Mac in the stomach. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Pah.” Mac caught Blake’s wrist, stopping any repeat jabs. “I’m on leave. You can’t give me orders, Doctor Pisani.”

“Girlfriend’s orders,” she stated, eyebrows rising in determination, issuing the challenge.

“Oh, well, in that case.” Mac’s concession was punctuated with a gentle tug on Blake’s wrist, pulling her close. “Yes, ma’am. But I’m having the ika mata.”

“I hear an ‘and’ in there.” Blake’s eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in, eyes narrowing in suspicion as well.

“And maybe we can talk some more about doing an orbital skydive?”

Blake didn’t immediately reject the idea. But the silence was heavy. Even the birds above the two seemed to have gotten the hint and quietened down. The kids and dog down the beach, not so much. Eventually she drew in a breath, leaned forward and kissed Mac on the forehead before leaning back. “You really want to, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t mind giving it a go. But if someone is giving me expert advice not to, I’m inclined to listen.”

Blake drew in another breath, slowing standing. “I’m willing to listen to your argument again,” she said, offering a wan smile. “But no promises.”

“Thank you,” Mac said as she set off back inside the cabana. He had a few more minutes before they had to set off, a fresh drink and just a few pages left of the chapter. It would be tight, but with a bit of effort, he could make it work.

The book creaked open, fingers flicked a bit till he found the right page. And then the glass was lifted for a sip.

The trials and tribulations of shore leave were a burden, but someone had to bear them.

Woe be upon Charles MacIntyre, man at leisure.