Beside a Burning Sea

DAY EIGHTEEN
They say all things end,
But I say all things begin.
Warm winds carry seeds.
Rebirth


Several hours after dawn, the remaining six survivors from Be-nevolence were plucked from the sea by eager sailors aboard a heavy cruiser of the U.S. Navy. The survivors were given fresh clothes, additional medical care, and hot food. Joshua provided the executive officers with an account of the past weeks, starting with the attack on his ship. Though normally a detailed man, he rushed through his story so that he could return to Isabelle and Ratu. Still, the questions posed to him were many—questions of Roger and Akira, of the Japanese battle group, of Benevolence. And though Joshua started to dread the endless inquires, a series of unlikely comments and musings suddenly caused his heart to pound.
As soon as protocol allowed, Joshua rose from the long table, saluting the officers about him. He then hurried through the innards of the ship, running when empty spaces confronted him. He found Isabelle and Ratu exactly where he’d left them—in a small, cramped room containing a cot and a desk. Isabelle sat on the cot, cradling Ratu’s head, which now bore a proper bandage. Joshua moved beside her. “I’ve got wonderful news,” he said, so excited that his voice trembled.
“What news?” Isabelle asked, as she gently cleaned Ratu’s face with a warm rag.
“Ratu’s going home.”
“Home?” Ratu asked, his bloodshot eyes widening and filling with tears.
“It’s all being arranged,” Joshua replied. “I told the captain that my first lieutenant was due some shore leave. And he agreed.”
Ratu rose from Isabelle’s lap. “When, Captain? Soon?”
“Well, we have to sail here and there, and then catch a plane. But we’ll get you home.”
“You’ll . . . get me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going with me?” Ratu asked, not believing what he’d heard. “You’re going to take me to my family?”
Joshua nodded, glancing at Isabelle. “I promised my wife two weeks on a beach, Ratu. I told her that I’d teach her to sail. You’ve got sailboats in Fiji, right? Sailboats and beaches?”
“Oh, of course, Captain,” Ratu replied, his voice regaining a bit of its old speed. “I tell you, we have very beautiful beaches and very fast sailboats.”
Isabelle kissed the top of Ratu’s head. “Maybe you could join us for an afternoon on the water.”
“Could my sisters come? All five of them?”
“The more the merrier,” Joshua said.
Ratu smiled for the first time in what seemed an eternity. “Can we leave now? Today?”
Joshua patted Ratu’s knee. “We’ll leave soon, I promise.”
“Soon?”
“And . . . and that’s not all, Ratu,” Joshua said, his eyes glistening. “Not by a long shot. The best is yet to come.”
“The best? What do you mean, Captain? Tell me.”
“There’s a story . . . a wonderful story being told. I just heard it.”
“What story?”
Joshua smiled, and to Isabelle his face suddenly looked a decade younger. “I was told of a Fijian man looking for his son,” he said. “This man serves with Americans and for weeks has been visiting about every ship and port and base in the South Pacific. He’s even asked about Benevolence. They say that he won’t rest, that he’s done so well in the field that the brass support his search. He’s seen every captain from here to—”
“My father?” Ratu asked, suddenly weeping with joy.
“I think so. I don’t know who else it could be.”
“Oh, Captain!” Ratu replied, wrapping his arms around Joshua, squeezing him as tightly as possible. “Thank you! Oh, thank you so bloody much! I know it’s him! I tell you, it sounds just like him. It just has to be him!”
“You’re going to be with him soon, Ratu,” Isabelle said, rubbing the back of his head, her tears almost as numerous as his. “Imagine how happy he’ll be to see you.”
At her words, Ratu’s euphoria seemed to overwhelm him, and for once he was speechless. His lips trembled. His damp eyelids pressed tightly together, sending tears tumbling. He clung to Isabelle and Joshua and continued to hug them. And as the ship gently swayed, the three companions leaned against each other, holding each other. They cried and smiled and even laughed. Finally, when Isabelle said that it was time for Ratu to rest, they laid him gently upon the cot. “Now, may I borrow my lovely wife for a moment?” Joshua asked.
“Just one, Captain,” Ratu replied. “Please just one.”
Joshua took Isabelle’s hand and stepped out of the room. The narrow passageway was empty, and he drew her toward him. “Can you believe it?” he asked. “Apparently, his father is a bit of a legend by now. They say he doesn’t sleep. He’s got half the Pacific fleet looking for his boy. Looking for . . . for Ratu.”
“What a miracle, Josh. What a . . . marvelous miracle. Are you sure? It’s almost too good to be true.”
“I’m sure.”
Isabelle wiped her eyes, so relieved for Ratu that her legs suddenly felt weak. She leaned unsteadily against a nearby bulkhead.
Joshua worriedly moved closer and held her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing whatsoever.”
“Are you sure? You look pale.”
“Everything’s fine, Joshua. You were there. You heard what the ship’s doctor said.”
“And the cramps?”
“Nothing to worry about. I just need to rest.”
“You, resting?”
“I’m going to try,” she said. “You know, I can learn new things.”
His bandaged hand slid to her belly. He kissed her briefly. “Do you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m a lucky man, Izzy. Lucky to have you. And I’m sorry if I didn’t always realize that, but I realize it now. And I’m not going to forget it again.”
“And?” she asked, smiling faintly.
“And . . . and when this war . . . when this world stops fighting with itself, I’m going to come home. Come home for good. And I probably won’t give you everything you want, but I’ll try to give you plenty.”
Isabelle leaned forward, kissing him, pulling him against her. “I just want you, Josh. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Just you and the baby and a run-down house that we can fix up and call home. Nothing else much matters.”
He kissed her again. “We’d better get back to Ratu. I’d like the two of you to rest. Lay beside him and go to sleep.”
“Will you find me tonight?”
“I’m always going to find you, Izzy,” he replied, stroking her brow. “Us old sea captains, we know where to look for the best waters.”

THE HEAVY CRUISER, having survived the battle almost unscathed, escorted a pair of damaged destroyers toward safer seas. The smaller ships trailed oil and smoke but were taking on no more water than their pumps could clear. Aboard the cruiser, sailors welded torn steel, watched the sky for Zeros, and caught up on some much-needed rest. At the bow, Akira and Annie stood close enough that the rise and fall of the ship often brought their shoulders together. Below, several dolphins leapt in front of the froth and spray created by the bow slicing through the water. The dolphins seemed to delight in the thrust of the iron beast behind them, catapulting themselves high into the air.
“The morphine is leaving me,” Akira said, grasping the rail before him with his good hand.
“I should give you something else for the pain,” Annie replied. “Let’s go belowdecks. You shouldn’t be up here anyway. And I want to see how everyone is doing.”
“It can wait a moment, yes?” he asked, studying her face, not used to seeing her in unspoiled clothes.
“It can.”
Akira watched the dolphins, remembering how he’d encouraged Annie to swim in their company. The creatures below were sleek and smart and beautiful. He felt oddly linked to them, as if he were in their debt for helping him place a bridge between himself and the woman he’d grown to love. “Such freedom,” he said, nodding toward the dolphins.
“I’ll never forget my swim with them.”
The dolphins continued to leap. Akira edged even closer to her side, pleased that her face bore a faint smile. “My hand hurts,” he said. “And Jake, a good and noble man, is gone. And I have seen too much death. But still . . . no words, no music, no sight or poem, can describe how I feel now.”
“Can you try?”
“It would be easier to swim like those dolphins,” he said, looking below. “How do you describe . . . a combination of hope and peace and love? Is there such a word? Such a feeling?”
Though Annie ached because of the loss of Jake, she understood what Akira meant. She knew that life was long, and she felt that for Isabelle, and for Ratu and Joshua and Nathan and Akira and herself, the best years lay ahead. “Just try,” she finally replied. “You can try to describe it, can’t you?”
Akira felt the sun on his back, smelled the fragrance of the sea. “Once,” he said reflectively, “when I was a boy, I rode my bicycle to the top of a mountain range near my home. It took me almost all day to reach the top. The leaves of the maple trees were turning to gold, to scarlet, to orange. And so the mountains looked . . . they looked as if they had been painted below the blue sky. And a wind blew, and when I rolled down the mountains, the leaves fell on me, fell like little orange blankets. I seemed to descend forever, as if I were a river twisting down that mountain. And I felt such joy and freedom and hope. And I have always thought that was the one pure and perfect moment of my life, a moment that showed me how the suffering and sorrow of life could be eclipsed.” Akira looked to the dolphins, and then again to Annie’s face. “I now have two such moments. Because I feel this same joy and hope right now.”
She placed her arm around his back, drawing him closer, suddenly indifferent to the stares of distant sailors. “For me,” she said, “that moment was the night you first made love to me. I knew then that my search was finally over.”
“Your search ended then? Not before? Not on the beach?”
“No, not like that. That night changed me forever.”
“How?”
“It showed me what was possible. And I’d never seen that before. Never known . . . that . . . that there weren’t limits to how I could feel.”
Akira looked at her face, loving each precious part as much as the whole. “I feel as if I am once again riding down those mountains. In those leaves. But it is even better now, for I have you beside me, and the ride does not end when I reach the bottom, but continues. And I know that it will go on and on and on. And though it may rain, it may get cold, I may puncture a tire, such things will . . . they will ultimately make our journey better. And when the twilight of that ride is finally upon us, we will look at the trail we have taken and at the signs of our passage. And though our tears will be many, we will know that great lives have been lived, and that our memories will forever bind us together.”



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Without question, writing a novel is one of the hardest and most enjoyable processes that I have experienced. The joy stems from a profound sense of discovery and creation. The struggle is akin to being lost and alone in a forest and trying to emerge into a light that exists miles away.
I think most novelists would say that writing is a solitary affair. Characters and themes are constant musings that are rarely shared. Not surprising, the struggle to breathe life into such elements is often void of the camaraderie found in so many other occupations.
And yet writers wouldn’t be able to write if not for the support of family, friends, readers, and colleagues. I certainly couldn’t.
My parents, Patsy and John, inspired my love of reading and travel, for which I will be forever grateful. Equally significant, they taught me of the importance of giving and goodwill. My brothers, Tom, Matt, and Luke, are a wonderful source of pride and happiness. My wife, Allison, has always believed in my dreams and has done her best to make those dreams become realities. And our children, Sophie and Jack, remind me of why the world remains a beautiful place.
My sincere thanks go out to my fantastic editor, Kara Cesare, and everyone else at Penguin. I’m delighted and honored to have such a fine publishing house behind my works. My agent, Laura Dail, has been a marvelous blessing and, as far as I’m concerned, is the best in the business.
In one way or another, the following people have been of immense support: Mary and Doug Barakat, Bruce McPherson, Laura Love, Tracey Zeeck, Pete Kotz, Denise McNamee, Marjorie Weber, Eriq La-Salle, Terri Lubaroff, Pennie Clark Ianniciello, Amy Tan, Wendy Art-man, Sandra Dallas, Kara Welsh, Dustin O’Regan, Hank Nerwin, and Donna Gritzo.
And, of course, I would be terribly remiss not to thank all of the readers, librarians, reviewers, and booksellers who have been so kind as to champion Beneath a Marble Sky and Beside a Burning Sea. I’m forever indebted to such friends.



DEAR READER
When my first novel, Beneath a Marble Sky, was published as a paperback in 2006, I decided that I wanted to try and give something back to readers. After all, if people were going to buy my novel, tell their friends about it, and lend me their support, the least I could do was to be supportive in return. I opted to place a letter at the end of Beneath a Marble Sky that invited book clubs to invite me to participate in their discussions. I included my e-mail address. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure how my proposal would be received, though I had a hunch that readers wished for such interaction.
I was fortunate in that over the following few months, Newsweek magazine and the CBS Evening News did stories on my book club program. And as a result of this publicity, I was inundated with requests to talk with book clubs. In fact, over the course of the ensuing year, I spoke (usually via speakerphone) with more than one thousand book clubs. Most of these clubs were based in the United States, though I spoke with groups from Canada to Zambia. And while most clubs were fairly traditional in their approach, others decided to wear saris, cook Indian food, hire henna painters—thereby getting into the spirit of Beneath a Marble Sky.
Chatting with more than one thousand book clubs gave me a true appreciation for how carefully people read books. Time and time again, readers greatly impressed me with their insightful questions. As a result, I learned to never take the reader for granted. If people are going to invest hard-earned money into a book, and then take the time to read it, they deserve to experience something memorable.
I hope that Beside a Burning Sea moved you. I certainly tried to create a lasting story. I remain delighted to receive and respond to e-mail. Just drop me a line at [email protected].
I’d like to end this note by expressing my profound gratitude to readers. Thank you for all of your support and encouragement.