Beside a Burning Sea

DAY TEN
Some say love is dead.
But why do I feel such bliss?
Frogs shout in the rain.
A Choice Is Made


For the first time since Benevolence sank, the sky was rendered mute by clouds. A thick gray blanket hid the sun and tarnished the sea. Diminutive waves marched through the harbor and tossed themselves upon the shore, dying on the sand like soldiers trying to take a trench. The wind seemed restless, pressing on trees and faces from a variety of angles.
Stiff from a nearly sleepless night, Akira walked the beach alone, disgusted at himself for shaming Annie into running from him. He’d never said such a thing to a woman, and his words had backfired in exactly the manner that he’d most feared. He had betrayed her just as she was coming to truly know him, and this betrayal tormented him the way a bee sting assails a child.
Before being stranded on the island, Akira felt that he’d come to know most every emotion. He’d understood want and hope, hate and fear. He’d loved his mother and enjoyed his students. He had longed for nothing more than a simple life. Moreover, he had recognized his place in the world, and at least until Nanking, never sought to fight it.
But now, as he walked the beach, as he drearily placed one foot before the other, he was thoroughly confused. He didn’t understand how one moment he and Annie had been coming closer together, and the next they’d leapt apart. He couldn’t comprehend that with the utterance of a few words, his joy at her presence had turned to a sorrow at her loss. He’d never so quickly gone from ecstasy to agony, never seen such a beautiful world so rapidly turn gray.
Akira wanted to make amends with Annie, wanted to tell her that he’d never dishonor her again, that he knew she was engaged and that he had no right to tempt her with words. He’d been weak—so consumed by his own musings and fantasies that he hadn’t thought of her. And that omission besieged him, for he felt that she’d given him the key to her and, instead of hiding that key in a safe place, he’d opened her up, violating her trust.
Cursing himself in Japanese, Akira kept walking. The wind strengthened against his face, and he thought it apt that the day mirrored his mood. Normally, he liked such days, enjoyed being reminded of his humble place in the world. But today the sky was the shade of tanks and ships and bombs, and no solace existed in such a colorless realm.
Akira came to the large boulders that marked the swimming hole. After calling out to ensure that no one was bathing, he rounded the rocks. Almost immediately, he noticed a wooden case on the beach. The case, which was made of a highly polished hardwood, had been stranded alongside seaweed and jellyfish by the high tide. Akira walked to it, and was surprised at its heaviness. He opened it. A trickle of water poured out, but the inside was fairly dry and was filled with bottles of pills and white powders, a stethoscope, syringes, needles, sutures, bars of soap, bandages, and a steel scalpel.
He’d been without a weapon since landing on the island, and so he contemplated the scalpel, picking it up and cutting the hairs of his forearm. The blade was sharp and deadly. Without additional thought, he wrapped a leaf of seaweed about the blade and carefully pocketed the item. Even though he was highly skilled at fighting with his hands and feet, he knew that such a weapon could be the difference between life and death. And with so many uncertainties abounding, he wanted any advantage he could get.
Closing the case, Akira started back to camp. For the first time all morning he had an excuse to talk with Annie, and was eager to share his discovery with her. Perhaps she’d find some use for the items, and perhaps she’d again look to him as someone she could trust. The wind was at Akira’s back and seemed to propel him toward camp. Soon he approached the familiar banyan tree. Everyone but Jake and Ratu was gathered around a small fire. Joshua was pointing toward the distant ship, and noting, as Akira had earlier, that it was much farther from shore.
As Akira approached, eyes fell upon his discovery. “I found this case by the rocks,” he said, giving it to Joshua.
After opening the case, Joshua showed its contents to the nurses. “Any special treasures?” he asked, hoping that the medical kit contained aspirin, as the dropping air pressure had given Isabelle a sinus headache.
Annie immediately recognized the monogrammed case. “It’s Dr. Burton’s kit,” she said, recalling how meticulous he’d been about his instruments. Everything of his bore his initials and was kept in perfect order. “There’s morphine and penicillin and sulfanilamide and quinine,” she said excitedly. “And his stethoscope and sutures and scalpel and . . .”
“And what?” Joshua asked.
“Oh, his scalpel’s gone,” she replied. “But his stethoscope and syringes and dressings are all here. And everything’s in good shape. We’re really quite lucky to have this.”
“Wonderful. Nicely done, Akira.” Joshua closed the case. “Well, then, getting back to—”
“Wait,” Roger interrupted, stepping into the circle. “What did you say was missing?”
“Nothing, really,” Annie said. “His scalpel isn’t here. But we’ve everything else we need. There’s even—”
“Give it to me,” Roger said, stepping toward Akira. “Give it to me now or I’ll split your monkey skull.”
“What are you talking about?” Annie asked, closing the case.
“The scalpel. I want it.”
“Well, he doesn’t have it,” Annie said. “It’s just not here.”
“He found the case,” Roger said, bunching his fists, his headache suddenly forgotten. “And if there’s a scalpel missing, I bet it’s that bulge in his pocket.”
Annie looked to Akira’s pocket. She shook her head. “He . . . he didn’t take it.” When Akira failed to respond, she stepped closer to him. “Please tell me you didn’t take it.”
Akira wanted to explain that he’d taken the blade to protect her, that he dreaded what would happen if his countrymen landed and found their cave. But he couldn’t reveal his feelings for her in front of the others, and so he reached into his pocket and produced the scalpel.
Joshua took the instrument. “This shouldn’t have happened,” he said, shaking his head, his jaw tightening. “You had no reason to do this.”
“Why?” Annie asked, stepping away from him. “Why betray our trust?”
Roger, who’d been ready to pounce upon Akira, decided that his adversary would suffer more if he wasn’t attacked. And so Roger said, “Because he’s a Jap. And betraying trust is what Japs do best.”
Annie abruptly walked from the group toward the harbor. Though Akira desperately wanted to follow her, he remained still. Joshua swatted at a sand fly and then looked at the blade. “I don’t know what to do about this. I just don’t.”
“Make him regret it,” Roger replied, reveling in the moment.
“How?”
“Easy enough. Keep his hands bound. Put him on a leash like the dog he is. If he—”
“Won’t you stop?” Isabelle asked. Though she’d always tried to remain silent when Joshua gave orders, she was furious that her husband was actually listening to Roger. “You have the scalpel and the dagger and the machete and dozens of spears. He’s got nothing but a little limp. What on earth is he going to do to you? What threat does he possibly pose?”
“He could escape,” Roger countered, hating the nurse, wanting to squeeze her neck until her face turned purple. “Escape and tell all his Nipper friends where our cave is.”
Isabelle shrugged, as if his words meant nothing to her. “Then tie him up if the Japanese come. But for goodness’ sake, can’t you leave him alone for the time being?”
“He’ll run,” Roger replied, his headache abruptly assaulting him, his rage like a beast within him that needed to be freed.
“He won’t—”
“Ever see a monkey run? They’re fast.”
“He took a bullet in the leg ten days ago,” she said angrily. “Ever see what a bullet does to a leg?”
“I’ve—”
“And he’s no monkey, you lunatic.”
Roger’s nostrils flared. “You useless—”
“That’s enough!” Joshua shouted, suddenly aware that he’d thoughtlessly left Isabelle alone in her fight, that he’d waited too long to intervene. “This isn’t a democracy,” he said, glaring at Roger. “We don’t stand around and argue. I’m taking responsibility for him. He’ll do as I say, and if he doesn’t he’ll pay dearly for it. Understood?” When no one responded, Joshua continued, “We’re leaving this beach tomorrow. A storm’s coming, and we’ll be much happier in the cave. So let’s get to work.” As Akira started to turn away, Joshua grabbed his arm. “And you and I are taking a walk.”
Akira nodded, glancing down the beach toward Annie, who sat with her back to them. The sight of her alone assailed him, and it took nearly all his strength to repress his desire to go to her. Stifling the urge to call out to her, he walked in the opposite direction. Joshua quickly caught up to him.
“You promised me that I could trust you,” Joshua said, his voice sharp and resolute. “And yet the first chance you got, you betrayed that trust.”
Akira continued to walk, slightly favoring his wounded leg. “You have much to protect, Captain, yes? I do also.”
“What do you know of protection? Your country only invades. You don’t protect. You destroy and plunder, and you’re no better than the motherless Nazis you call friends.”
Akira stopped. “I am no Nazi,” he said simply, though he was deeply offended.
“You think you’re different?” Joshua asked. “They butcher Jews and Poles. You butcher Chinese and Koreans.”
“I—”
“Did you know that? Does your precious emperor tell you such things? Did he tell you about the Bataan death march? Where your countrymen forced ten thousand American and Filipino prisoners to walk until many of them died?”
“I was not there.”
“Have you heard the rumors about Hitler’s death camps in Poland? About what your noble ally is doing? While you plunder Asia, that . . . that devil moves thousands of Jews by trains to distant camps. The Jews are never seen again. The trains come back empty.” Joshua shook his head, his jaw clenching. “You talk of protection, but you know nothing of protection. The only things Japan protects in this war are its own self-interests.”
Akira briefly closed his eyes, trying to slow a sudden rage within him. “You know nothing of me.”
“I know that I trusted you. That I’ve treated you far better than you’d any right to expect.”
“Did you know, Captain, that I was at Nanking? That there I let a girl die? That I tried to protect her and failed? You Americans think you know so much. You speak of us plundering Asia. How long have your allies, the British, been the white lords of Asia? How much of the world have the British and French ruled and plundered through their military strength? Almost all of it, yes? Were they invited? Were they welcomed? No, they were not. We are only forcing them back to Europe where they belong, something that should have been done many years ago.”
“And yet you attacked Pearl Harbor. You attacked America.”
“You cut off our oil,” Akira countered. “Your politicians knew that the emperor would see this as an act of war. And yet they did it. No one should have been surprised that we attacked. As you know, we are not a hard people to predict.”
Joshua raised the scalpel into the light. “Pearl Harbor was a mistake. And this was a mistake. You’ve forced my hand. You’ve forced me to now treat you as a prisoner.”
Though normally Akira would have allowed himself to be tied up, he knew that he couldn’t protect Annie if he were bound. “I protected the sisters on the ship,” he said, letting the anger fade from his voice. “When you could not. Why would I not do the same again?”
Joshua looked out at the sea to where Benevolence rested. He hadn’t yet prayed today for his crew, and he experienced a brief pang of guilt. “Why did you save them?” he asked.
“Because they were good to me. Because I let a girl die. Because I am tired of war.”
“But why . . . why, when I put my trust in you, did you betray me?”
“Because, Captain, I do not want to see them perish. I swear upon the honor of my ancestors that this is true.”
“And you think you can protect them? That this little scalpel could save them?”
Akira remembered killing with his hands, with a helmet. “Yes,” he said simply.
“And you were a teacher before all of this? A poet, even?”
“A teacher, yes.”
Joshua sighed, still unsure if Akira’s presence on the island was a blessing or a curse. “If you betray me again . . . if you do that I’ll kill you,” he said, his eyes meeting Akira’s. “So help me God, I will.”
“That is fine.”
“Then go. And the next time you find a scalpel, tell me about it. Come to me before you try to save the world by yourself.”
Akira started to leave but then stopped. “I am not trying to save the world, Captain. Much of it . . . much of it is not worth saving. But the sisters? I will protect them if I can.”

AFTER LEAVING JOSHUA, Akira walked directly toward Annie. Though his upbringing told him to leave her in peace, to honor her wish to be alone, he had learned one thing from war—that leaving important words unsaid was a mistake that sometimes could never be undone. And so he sought her out, walking into the strengthening breeze. When Annie saw him, she turned away. Drawing a deep breath, he sat beside her—though respectfully distant—and for a time said nothing. He noticed that the shell he’d found was before her, overturned in the sand.
“I took the blade because . . . because I wanted . . . I needed to protect you,” he finally said, forcing himself to talk. She made no reply and he watched her face, longing to touch it. He started to speak again and then stopped, unused to expressing his feelings so openly—after all, in Japan people rarely spoke in such ways. After mustering his courage, he said softly, “You cannot give someone . . . a treasure and expect them to not protect it.”
“I didn’t ask you to protect me.”
“This is true. But you gave me a gift. And it is natural, yes, to protect a gift?”
She looked into his eyes. “What . . . what did I give you? What did I give you that’s so important that you’d deceive us?”
“Yourself.”
“And this . . . this is how you see me? As a gift? A treasure?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Because a treasure provides. It provides hope and beauty and comfort, yes? And this is what . . . this is what you do for me.”
“I’m just . . . I’m really nothing special,” she said unsteadily, still angry, but also wanting to believe him, wanting to hear more.
He craved to touch her hand but held himself motionless. “May I continue?” he asked.
“Only if doing so will explain your actions.”
He sighed, glancing anxiously from the shell to her face. “You are special.”
“What does this have to do with the scalpel?”
“You fill my world . . . with color. And how could that not be special?”
Despite her irritation, his words warmed her and she picked up the shell, holding it between her hands. “And so you took the scalpel because you wanted to protect me?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing more?”
“No. But nothing less.”
“But why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I should have. And I am sorry. I am so sorry for that mistake.”
She nodded, twisting the shell, remembering the happiness on his face when he’d given it to her. “Would you mind telling me . . . of this color?” she asked, sensing that he yearned to say more and knowing that she needed to prompt him.
He paused. “I will not dishonor you if I tell you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Are you sure? I have already said too much, yes?”
“You can tell me.”
“I—”
“You need to tell me. Because if you don’t, I’ll never understand why you took the scalpel or why I’m so confused or why on earth I feel so torn.”
Akira noted the speed with which her voice had suddenly moved. She was also fidgeting—brushing sand from her shell, shifting this way and that. He watched the wind tug at her hair as he searched for the words to describe how he felt. He did not rush into trying to explain his feelings. Rather, he thought about what it was like to spend time with her, about how she opened a part of him that he hadn’t known existed. “When I see you,” he finally said, “when I talk with you . . . I am reminded of all that is good in the world, and of all that is good in me. Because you carry me to a place . . . to a wondrous place where I have never been. And in this place I feel as I have never felt. Everything is alive . . . almost singing . . . like a spring day. And this is how you fill my world with color.”
A tear descended Annie’s face and dropped to her lap. She put her hand on his knee. “Will you show me this place?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Will you show me . . . tonight?”
“Yes.”
“When the sun is down. Please show me when the sun is down and I can see all of the colors.” She wiped a tear from her face, squeezed his knee, and left him by the sea.

THE CLIMB WAS even easier than Roger remembered. He attacked it like a leopard—staying low to the ground, moving up using his feet and hands, practically leaping to and from boulders. Despite his lingering headache and rage, he reveled in his strength, delighted in his taut muscles. Imagining himself as a samurai, he charged his foes above. He held an imaginary sword, a katana, and dispatched everyone who stood in his way. Heads and limbs tumbled to the bottom of the hill while he remained unscathed.
He leapt into the depression containing the radio. The earth was undisturbed, and he quickly uncovered his secret box. Within a few minutes, he was naked and his lips held a cigarette, which he sucked on as if it were the vessel of a magical elixir. As the wind bore ashes and smoke away, he set up the radio, placing the headset over his ears. A mosquito landed on his arm and he slapped at it so hard that his skin turned red. “Goddamn island,” he muttered, readjusting his headset.
After taking a deep breath of smoke to steady himself, he said, “Ronin to Edo. Over.”
Static greeted him for a few seconds. Then he heard the metallic voice of his contact. “Edo here. How are the cherry blossoms?”
“Always best at dusk.”
“Agree.”
“Still in nest with eight surviving chicks.”
“Stay in nest. Mother coming to roost in five to eight days. Will rendezvous on highest ground near nest, then find chicks.”
“Understood. Highest ground.”
For a moment, static filled Roger’s headset. Then the familiar voice was back. “Expect typhoon tomorrow.”
Roger’s heart skipped. “Repeat?”
“Typhoon headed in your direction. Expect direct hit. Find suitable shelter. Contact me after storm.”
“Understood. Over.”
The static returned, and Roger looked to the sky. It did seem ominous, full of gray clouds and restless winds. After lighting a second cigarette, he started to disassemble his radio, continuing to glance above. He thought of the captain’s plans for the next day, thought of how the fool and a few others were going to take the lifeboat at first light and row to the cave. Knowing that a typhoon would pick up the lifeboat as if it were no more than a leaf, Roger clapped his hands. “You and your bitch are going to die tomorrow,” he said gleefully, smoke seeping from his lips. “You couldn’t save Benevolence, and you’re sure as hell not going to save that little lifeboat.”
Barely able to contain his enthusiasm for the chaos of the coming day, Roger buried his box. He then put his clothes back on and began to descend the hill. As he moved from rock to rock, he wondered what he should do with the party that journeyed overland to the cave. When the storm hit, he could lead them to the cave and would be a hero. Or he could get them lost and watch them die. Or, perhaps better yet, he could let some die and some live.
I’ll have to make sure that the bastard captain leaves just before the storm strikes, he thought. But how can I do that? He’ll read the weather and know that something is amiss. And the coward will want to play it safe.
His mind embracing and disregarding schemes, Roger continued down the hill, almost as excited as the day Edo told him that Benevolence would be sunk.

BACK AT CAMP, JOSHUA stood on the beach and studied the sky. He hadn’t spent much time in the waters of the South Pacific, and couldn’t interpret the weather as well as he’d have liked. The air—cool, gray, and agitated—seemed to be telling him something.
“What is it?” Isabelle asked, watching her husband.
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”
“Is a storm coming?”
He turned about in a circle, looking at the sky from all directions, trying to interpret it as he might Isabelle’s face. “I think so,” he replied. “But I’m not sure what kind of storm. We might just get really wet.”
“Do you want me to tell everyone that we’ll leave at first light tomorrow?”
Joshua looked about the camp, wishing they could leave immediately, but knowing that the fish was still drying and that people were scattered and ill prepared. “You read my mind, as usual.” She smiled and started to leave when he touched her shoulder. “Notice anything else?” he asked.
“Only that the destroyer left an hour or so ago.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
“Not when I can help it.”
“I wonder why she left. So odd to come here for a few days and then leave. I should climb the hill and ask Scarlet some questions. She may have seen something we didn’t.”
“How about some company?”
“I’d love some. You can talk with the others later about our departure.” Joshua glanced again at the spot where the destroyer had been lurking. He’d grown somewhat used to the sight of the ship, and with it gone the sea looked oddly barren. Wondering where she’d sailed, Joshua followed Isabelle into the trees. For the first time since he’d been on the island, he didn’t feel as if the jungle was some kind of immense green oven he’d stepped into. The air was damp and cool. The birds and animals were silent and seemingly forlorn.
“It feels like a different place,” Isabelle said, walking carefully so that she’d leave no sign of her passing.
Joshua noted his wife’s precise steps and smiled. “Two weeks ago you were the best nurse on Benevolence. And now you’re moving through the jungle as if you’d been born here.”
“Benevolence had a lot of good nurses. We were very lucky in that department.”
“But you were the best, Izzy. And everyone knew it. Why do you think all the doctors wanted you? Why couldn’t you ever get a moment’s peace?”
“I was happy to help,” she said, knowing he was right but unwilling to admit as much.
“Still as stubborn as a mule,” he said, half under his breath. Then he smiled. “Anyway, more important, how are you feeling?”
“Now you’re my nurse?”
“No. Just a worried husband. Though you could probably use a nurse.”
“Well, you needn’t worry, Josh. I feel fine. A bit tired by the end of the afternoon, but that’s to be expected.”
“Maybe you should start taking naps.”
“I’ve never napped. I wouldn’t know how to—”
“Would you do that for me? Please?”
“But I’m getting plenty of sleep.”
“Then just sit and rest.” When she didn’t respond, he thought of the past few days, of how Isabelle was often husking coconuts or washing clothes or collecting drinking water. She was used to doing more work than anyone, and he wondered how he could possibly slow her down. “Please,” he said, “for me, don’t work so hard. I’ll sleep better if you don’t work so hard.”
“Alright, Joshua,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I’ll sleep more. I’ll do it.”
Deciding that he’d seek Annie’s assistance on this front, he opted to let the matter rest. He swatted at a mosquito. The pest tumbled through the air, righted itself, and came at him again. “Why haven’t we gotten malaria?” he asked, swinging a second time.
“Simple enough. The mosquitoes here don’t seem to be infected.”
“But what if they are?”
“Well, we’ve got plenty of quinine now that Dr. Burton’s case has been found.”
Joshua had seen more than enough malaria patients, including Annie, to understand the significance of having ample amounts of quinine. “That was a lucky break,” he said. “Finding his kit, that is.”
“What did you say to Akira anyway?”
Shaking his head, he replied, “I had a right to be angry. And he understood that.”
A large bat hanging from the underside of a branch stretched its wings above them. Isabelle paused, leaned against the tree, and studied the bat. “Funny how they like to sleep upside down, isn’t it?”
Joshua was tempted to ask her if she’d brought up the discovery of Dr. Burton’s case because she thought he’d been too hard on Akira. But he quickly realized that Isabelle was direct enough that if she wanted to tell him that he’d mishandled the situation, she’d simply do so. Deciding that he was being too sensitive when it came to questions about his leadership, he forced away memories of the morning’s confrontation. He sensed that she wanted to enjoy their walk, and he sought to lift her spirits. “How do they go to the bathroom like that?” he asked, nodding toward the bat. “Don’t they foul themselves?”
She smiled. “Only you’d think of that. For all your prayers, you can still be quite the deviant.”
“God doesn’t mind a little deviance,” he replied, grinning. “If you know where to look, you’ll find it in the good book. And I’d say it’s a fair question. Bats are either flying or hanging upside down. So one way or another, there’s a lot of bat urine in the air.”
“Joshua!”
“And bat poop, I should add.”
“And I’m standing under it!” she said, quickly moving forward.
He hurried to catch her, taking her hand before she could walk too fast. Over the past few months they’d rarely held hands while walking, and, enjoying the link, he continued to slow their pace. He watched her as she confidently strode forward, and suddenly found himself surprised that such a talented, brilliant, and attractive woman would find him of interest. “How did I find you?” he asked.
She pointed out a thorn-filled bush for him to avoid. “I found you, Josh. It wasn’t the other way around.”
“You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”
“Why would I?”
He smiled, recalling how she’d asked him to dance. That first night with her—a night of dancing and laughing and a good-night kiss—had been one of the most thrilling experiences of his life. “I’m glad,” he said, “that I’m here with you now. Though no good will ever come of Benevolence sinking, at least . . . at least it brought us closer together.”
Isabelle turned to him as they started to climb the hill that Scarlet was perched atop. “But why did we need to be brought together?” she asked somewhat abruptly. “How did we drift apart?”
He shrugged. “Too many responsibilities. We both had too many, and we took each other for granted.”
“I don’t want that to happen again.”
“It won’t.”
“But how can you say that? Really, Joshua, how can you?”
“Because when this war’s over, life will go back to normal. And it will be like this.”
“Like you telling me about bat poop?”
Nodding, he pretended to nervously glance above. “We’ll have to move somewhere with lots of bats. Just so we’ll feel at home.”
“So this island is home now?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, smiling. “But I feel closer to you now than . . . than I think I ever have.”
“Why now? Because of our child?”
He helped her up a fairly steep section of the hill. “I don’t know, exactly. But just being here with you. There’s no one in the world I’d rather be here with.”
“And?”
“You need more?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m a naval captain. Not a poet like your sister or her new friend.”
“So try, naval captain. Try to tell me how you feel.”
He slipped, letting go of her hand so as not to pull her down with him. Brushing off his knees, he stood up. “Sometimes,” he said, “when I look at my father and see him all shriveled up and in pain, lying in bed, I’m afraid of getting old.”
“You are?”
“I think it’s my biggest fear.”
“Well, I think most people fear getting old. I wouldn’t worry about worrying.”
“I’m trying, Isabelle, to tell you how I feel.”
“Oh,” she said, smiling. “I wasn’t sure where you were headed. By all means, please go on.”
“Patience isn’t your strong suit, you know.”
“What can I say? I like to get to the end of the story as quickly as possible. Why waste time trying to figure everything out?”
He shook his head in pretend exasperation. “Well, despite your lack of patience, knowing that you’ll be with me makes the fear subside. Because with you at my side, I don’t feel alone. And if I end up like my father, prematurely old and run-down, I’ll still have you. And I won’t really need much more.”
She took his hand. “I won’t ever let you get run-down,” she said, grinning. “I’ve too much invested in you.”
He kissed her forehead. “Good.”
“And do you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m glad I asked you to dance, my gallant naval captain.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” she replied. “And even though we were terrible dancers . . . the worst on the floor . . . it was still the best dance of my life.”
“We’ve gotten better.”
She started to slip, but he pulled her up. “You’re right about Benevolence ,” she said. “No good will come of her sinking. But at least we’ve been brought back together.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his forehead, just as he had hers. “At least I have you once again. And believe me, I’m not going to let you go.”
They embraced briefly and began to climb again. Though the sun was still hidden and a breeze tugged at them, they each felt warm and were momentarily untroubled—a combination that both had rarely experienced for many months.

“HOW DO YOU find them so darn easily?” Jake asked, eyeing the beautiful shell that Ratu had discovered in a few inches of water.
“I just look, Big Jake,” Ratu replied. “Do you have sand in your eyes? Can’t you see?”
“Everything I find needs fixing.”
“Well, you have to look for unbroken ones. I tell you, you don’t have to be a bloody genius to know that.”
Jake splashed a handful of water at Ratu. “Show me a genius, and I’ll show you a fool.”
“What?”
“And didn’t that daddy of yours tell you to respect your elders?”
“Almost everyone is my elder, Big Jake. I don’t want to respect some silly bloke who couldn’t walk and talk at the same time just because he’s older than me.”
“As I said before, I reckon not everyone likes to talk as much as you. If everyone liked to talk as much as you, the—”
“World would be a bloody interesting place.”
Jake smiled, sifting through the sand. Suddenly wondering how their catch was drying, he turned to look at their rack, which was full of thin slices of fish and shark. Though he was too far away to discern much, the slices were definitely darkening, and several flapped in the wind. “It’s about time,” he said.
“Are you mumbling to yourself again?” Ratu asked, wiping sand from another small treasure. “I tell you, you’d better stop that habit or one of those pretty nurses will lock you up.”
“I reckon that ain’t a bad fate.”
“What? Being locked up, or the pretty nurse part?”
“What do you think?”
“What is the bloody big deal about women? I don’t understand it, Big Jake. Why do men act like children when pretty women are about?”
“Someday you’ll understand. That is, if you can find someone who’s deaf or odd enough to have a hankering for the sound of your voice.”
Ratu splashed Jake. “Oh, put a sock in it, Big Jake. Why don’t you find some shells instead of teaching me about women? I don’t see any pretty women around you, by the way.”
“They’re all holding tight in Missouri. Ain’t going nowhere until I get back.”
“Waiting for you? Ha! They’d better bloody well find something else to do.”
Jake chuckled, glad to finally be done with all of the fishing. His muscles ached, and the simple process of searching for shells was much more enjoyable than he’d have thought. It reminded him of being a child and looking for arrowheads while he helped till the farm. He’d found dozens and had filled his mother’s canning jars with them. Where are them jars? he wondered, thinking he’d ship some arrowheads to Ratu.
Jake glanced at Ratu’s necklace. Tying the shark’s biggest tooth to a thin strip of leather cut from Jake’s belt had been far from easy. But they’d managed the task, and Ratu hadn’t taken off the necklace since he looped it over his head. Jake knew that Ratu was eager to give the necklace to his father, just as he was excited to find shells for his sisters and a stone of some sort for his mother.
“Tell me about them sisters,” Jake said.
“See, there you go again.”
“What?”
“You complain that I do too much talking, and then as soon as I stop you ask me a question. I tell you, Big Jake, I can’t bloody well answer questions without talking.”
“Well, now, ain’t you got a point for a change?”
“You think I talk a lot? You should meet my sisters. Maybe someday you will. Anyway, they’re always asking me to pretend to be a husband, a father, a doctor, or some bloke who they’re in love with. They make necklaces out of sugarcane and ask that I put them around their necks. They do a lot of silly things like that.”
Coming from a big family himself, Jake understood. “It sounds real nice,” he said, avoiding a sea urchin as he continued to look for shells.
Ratu absently fingered his necklace. “It is nice, Big Jake. Cracking good, really. At night . . . at night we all sleep on the floor of our hut together. My mother and father are on one side, with my five sisters and me on the other. On some nights my father tells us stories. But if he’s out drinking kava or something, then I tell the stories. Each night I tell a tale about our family, like we’re on some great adventure. And each night one of my sisters is the hero. They all take turns being the hero, and if I don’t make them do enough wonderful things, they ask for more.”
Jake handed Ratu a spiral shell that had been cut in half. “This one sure is pretty.”
“Oh yes. Brilliant. My baby sister, Bari, will fancy that. She likes to look inside things. Thanks, mate.”
A gust of wind ruffled the surface of the harbor. Jake, who had spent so much of his life outside, knew that a storm was approaching. “Let’s gather a few more shells, Ratu, and then wrap up all them fish. I expect we’re gonna get wetter than muskrats tonight.”
“Sure, sure. But first we must find a shell for Kesea. She’s my oldest sister, and she’s seen most everything.”
Jake started to search the sea again, musing over how much he enjoyed Ratu’s company. For a moment, Jake was jealous of Ratu’s father. How wonderful it would be to have a son like Ratu, to be able to teach such a son what was worth teaching. Thinking of fatherhood, Jake couldn’t help but wonder what kind of son he’d been. Mostly he’d done as was asked, though he hadn’t stayed on the farm like his brothers, but had looked for a way to get into the war—a war that sometimes felt as if it had nothing to do with his people. Jake could still remember his mother asking him why he was going off to fight in a white man’s war. He’d thought about his answer for the rest of the day, finally telling her that it was a war for freedom and that any such war was his war as well. She’d stopped peeling potatoes, nodded slowly to him, and never mentioned the subject again.
The wind continued to tug at the sea, and Jake wished that his parents could witness such a sight, if only for a moment. Neither had been outside Missouri, and he felt it unfair that they didn’t even know such a world existed. Thinking that perhaps his mother would also enjoy a shell, Jake started to scan the sand with her in mind. He’d give her a pretty shell after the war was won, and she’d nod to him once again. And she’d understand what the shell meant and why he’d brought it all that way for her.

DUSK DID NOT ARRIVE that night with glowing colors. The gray sky merely got darker. As it became an infinite shadow, Akira labored deep in the jungle. His work focused on an area surrounding a small body of water that at one point had been connected to a nearby stream. The pool was roughly the size of a jeep and was several feet deep. Rising above it stood some of the most beautiful trees on the island. The trunks that ascended for seventy or eighty feet had no bark, but instead what seemed to be a pale, green skin. The leaves were broad and numerous and formed a thick ceiling.
Dragging old limbs from the nearby underbrush, Akira created a series of woodpiles that formed a large circle around the pool of water. He then carefully positioned fist-sized rocks within the piles. He created haikus as he worked, thinking of ways to describe the jungle, the trees, the noises around him. The words came easily, much to his surprise, for he was nervous about the evening.
Akira started to spread out small treasures that he’d collected earlier in the day. He outlined a path to the pool with sand dollars, and hung golden and lime and violet orchids from nearby branches. Orchids were plentiful in certain parts of the island, and he’d worked carefully to select ten of the most beautiful flowers that he could find.
As if whatever was within the circle was a part of his home, Akira methodically cleaned its interior. Any stray leaf or twig was carried beyond the circle. Any sharp rock was also removed. Using a branch dipped in the stream, he sprinkled water over the area, further purifying it. He tossed the branch far into the jungle and then slowly reexamined everything. Finally content, he began the walk to camp.
With the limited visibility brought by the approaching storm, there was no chance of detection from a plane or ship, and people were eating a fresh batch of fish around a fire they’d made near the sea. Annie was at the old fire pit, pretending to organize her medical supplies. Akira wordlessly emerged from the jungle, took a burning branch from the fire, and led her away from the sea. They didn’t speak as they walked within the light cast by the torch. Each was anxious. Akira wasn’t sure if what he’d prepared would be to her liking. Annie wondered why she was taking these steps and if she should stop and turn around. She thought of Ted, thought of how he loved her in his own way, and even though it wasn’t a way of her choosing, she hesitated betraying him.
Deep within the jungle, they came upon the circle of woodpiles, and, entering it, Akira motioned for her to sit atop a smooth rock by the water. He then took his torch and began to light each of the piles. One by one the piles burned, and with the addition of each gathering of wood, the halo of light strengthened. Before long the collective light was strong enough to illuminate the trees and the flowers. Each tree seemed to come alive, its trunk painted gold by the fires. The orchids’ shadows were almost as beautiful as the flowers themselves.
The fires grew, and soon Akira and Annie were sitting within a ring of flames. He’d placed the wood carefully, and the fire wasn’t in danger of spreading. It swayed and moved as if it had always been a part of the jungle, as if it were no more perilous than the trees above.
Annie turned to him, taking his hands in her own. “It’s perfect,” she said, the beauty of what he’d created compelling her to touch him.
“Just wait,” he replied softly. “Kindly sit and wait.”
She nodded, gently moving her thumb against the back of his hand. Though only a small part of her touched a small part of him, Akira had never felt anything as intimate. It seemed as if all of her embraced all of him. Her touch, warm and light, echoed throughout his entire body. His skin tingled. His heartbeat quickened and suddenly felt too powerful for his chest. He edged closer to her so that their knees touched.
The treetops swayed in the wind that managed to penetrate the jungle. The flames twisted and consumed. Otherwise the night was still. Annie continued to move her thumb against the back of his hand. She’d never touched a man in such a way and found the firmness of his flesh comforting and alluring.
“It is almost ready,” he whispered, longing to return her touch, but also wanting to move slowly.
“What’s almost ready?”
“Your surprise.”
Her thumb paused for a moment. “This isn’t it?”
“Not all of it. Just ten more minutes, yes?”
Annie nodded and watched the flames around her. She guessed that he’d created the fires in part to keep the bugs away, but the way he studied them made her think that they also played another role. He looked from fire to fire, sometimes squinting to see better.
“What,” he asked, “do you think the trees look like?”
She sensed the nervousness in his voice, which endeared him more to her. She gazed upward, wondering how she could describe the slender golden trunks and the thick canopies of leaves. “It’s like they’re dancing above us,” she said. “As if . . . as if they’re a part of some ancient play that we’ll never understand.”
“Ah, I like that,” he replied. “Especially the second half.”
“I want to remember what they look like, so that someday I can paint them.”
“Then you must close your eyes and try to see them again.”
Annie briefly did as he suggested, though she had a hard time concentrating on what the trees looked like while her flesh pressed against his. Acknowledging her touch with a slight nod and smile, Akira gently removed his hands from hers. He picked up a long bamboo pole that he’d leaned against a tree earlier. Placing the pole into the innards of the first fire he’d lit, he jostled the burning logs around, looking for embers. “This fire is hot,” he said, mostly to himself. “Wonderfully hot.”
Akira used the pole to push a mango-shaped stone from the fire. The stone, which had been painted black by smoke and flames, steamed as it rolled over the damp earth. He continued to push it with the pole until he sent it dropping with a hiss into the pool of water. Moving back to the same fire, he repeated the process a second and third and fourth time. He then walked to the next fire and again proceeded to move searing stones into the water. After moving about thirty stones, he felt the water with his fingers, and smiled. “Almost. You can wait another few minutes, yes?”
Mesmerized by the sight of him working with the long pole amid the fires, Annie nodded but didn’t speak. Akira returned his attention to the stones, moving them with great care and patience, smiling as they hissed when entering the water. He checked the temperature again and set his pole down. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“For . . . for a bath?”
Taking care to move slowly, Akira knelt at the edge of the pool and removed a thick cloth from his pocket. He tied the cloth around his head so that he couldn’t see. “In ancient Japan,” he said, “the best masseuses were the blind masseuses. People would travel great distances to see a blind masseuse.”
Annie felt her heart quicken. Though she wanted him, though she needed him, a part of her was afraid to move. Again she thought of Ted, wishing that he made her feel the way Akira did, wishing that she had the strength to control her longing. “Why . . . why were the blind so good?” she finally asked, her voice sounding unfamiliar to her.
“Because a blind masseuse proceeds by touch alone,” he replied, trying to suppress his mounting anxiety. “A blind masseuse could do many things that someone with sight could not.”
She didn’t reply, but instead watched him. He continued to kneel with his back straight and his hands by his sides. Perched upon a nearby tree, a violet orchid fluttered gently in the wind. She realized that he’d placed the flowers so that each petal faced her. Even the patterns on the sand dollars seemed to be aligned in her direction. The thought that he’d taken such care to present her with as much beauty as possible warmed her. Better yet, he hadn’t called any attention to what he’d done. He’d simply done it, knowing that she would notice.
“It’s all . . . so beautiful,” she said, yearning to touch him but remaining still. “It’s almost like . . . you created a poem. A poem just for me.”
“Do you . . . remember the gardener?”
“Yes.”
“I have also been inspired. Like never before.”
No longer able to remain motionless, Annie slowly undressed, setting her clothes aside. Soon she was standing in her undergarments. Standing not free of guilt, but of indecision. Nervous and excited and trembling with emotion, she removed the last impediments to her flesh. She walked to the edge of the pool. Dipping her foot within it, she was surprised by the wonderful heat of the water. Carefully, she stepped into the pool, sighing in pleasure as the water rose to her thighs, then belly, then chest.
Akira reached to his left and handed her a smooth plank of wood, which he’d found on the beach. “Here,” he said, holding it out for her, “please sit on this.”
Annie took the plank and slid it beneath her. She then moved to the edge of the pool, so that she was as close to him as possible. The water was almost up to her neck, and again she sighed as the heat penetrated her muscles and bones. She’d never been in such a large bath, and she reached out into the water and stretched her arms. Taking a long and deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore her racing mind.
Still blindfolded, Akira gently touched the top of her head. He let his hands remain motionless for a moment, as if they needed to become acquainted with her skin. He moved his fingertips in small circles atop her scalp. He concentrated as he worked, not knowing how she liked to be touched. Soon he let his fingers go flat against her, using his palms to move and stroke her scalp. He gently pulled on her hair, and she groaned in pleasure at this unfamiliar sensation.
His fingers slowly descended, and he traced the contours of her ears, tugging tenderly on her earlobes. He then started to rub her neck, his hands caressing her flesh—as if it were the last time that he’d ever touch a woman and he wanted to commit the sensation to memory. He sought out her muscles and worked on them carefully—compressing and releasing, twisting and straightening. Annie gradually leaned back into him, for she wanted to feel more of his touch. He obliged her by moving so close to the pool that she could rest her head against his knees.
Akira started to explore her shoulders, running his forefingers atop the rise and fall of her flesh. He traced her collarbone, delighted in the hollow of her neck, felt the subtle edge of her breasts. His fingers began to massage the body beneath them, squeezing the tight muscles along her shoulder blades. Working in darkness, Akira was acutely aware of how her body responded to his touch. He applied more pressure when it was sought, less when it was not. Though his pulse raged like a mountain stream in springtime, he moved unhurriedly.
Reaching behind him, Akira felt for an orchid that he’d laid upon the ground. Finding it, he placed it in his hands and rolled it vigorously between his palms until the flower’s fragrance seeped into his skin. He then reached around her to massage her face. His forefingers traced the curves of her eyes and nose and lips. Annie kissed his fingers as they passed, and suddenly unable to bear the distance between them, she turned around, her hands rising to remove his blindfold.
He opened his eyes and consumed the sight of her. She was precious and petite and beyond his imaginings. He saw her as living art and shook his head in wonder at the beauty of her creation.
No one had ever touched Annie as Akira had, and her eyes were drawn to his fingers. “I’ve been . . . I’ve searched for you so long,” she whispered, simultaneously vulnerable and potent, intoxicated with newfound emotions. “I didn’t think you existed.”
He placed his hands on her face. She gripped his wrists and moved back, so that he was pulled into the water. He wanted to speak to her, but words had abandoned him. He was without thought, without direction, but alive with wonder. He eased against her and his arms encircled her, drawing her closer. His lips felt her mouth, her neck, her eyes. He tasted her. His hands journeyed about her, delighting in each discovery.
Soon he was naked. Soon the water began to cool, but they did not know it. No thoughts or discomforts or distractions existed—only the overwhelming feeling of a world of their making. A world that spun around them, engulfed them, lifted them a thousand feet in the air, and left them breathless and wanting more.