Nina drew closer to the man. She put out her hands. “I have faith.” Jean Philippe scooted over and put his hands on top of hers. “So do I.” Little Alice glanced up. Perhaps that made three. I felt a sudden division in the boat, as if we’d been sorted by our beliefs. I suppose, when I think about it, much of the world is separated this way.
“Please help us,” Nina whispered. “We’re so thirsty.”
The man looked only at Alice. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back. It seemed like he was taking a nap. What type of response was that, Annabelle? As I keep saying, he is maddening.
But as he slept, the sky began to change. A ribbon of white clouds grew to large puffs, and those white puffs began to gray and thicken. Soon they blocked the sun.
A few minutes later, raindrops fell. Slowly at first. Then heavier. I saw Lambert tilt his head, his mouth gaping open, swallowing the droplets. Nevin gasped, “Is this real?” Yannis ripped off his shirt and so did Jean Philippe, rubbing the fresh water over their salt-crusted skin. As the shower turned to a downpour, I heard Nina laughing.
“Grab anything that can collect water!” Geri hollered.
I found the notebook tub and dumped the contents under the canopy. Then I raced out to catch the raindrops. Geri was doing the same with the bailer. Jean Philippe held up two empty cans and let the fresh supply splash into it.
“Thank you!” he screamed to the heavens. “Oh, thank you, Bondyé!”
We were so busy rejoicing in the storm, we didn’t realize how much water was collecting in the bottom of our raft. I moved my knees and slipped. The plastic box spilled its water everywhere.
“Damn it, Benji!” Yannis yelled. “Get back up! Fill it again!”
Lambert still had his mouth open like a fish, and Nevin, lying on his back, was angling the tray on his lower teeth, funneling rainwater to his lips. I saw Alice smiling; she was soaked from top to bottom.
Then, just as quickly as the storm arrived, it ceased. The clouds parted and the sun returned.
I looked at the plastic box, which was mostly empty thanks to my fall. I turned to the Lord, who was awake now, watching us.
“Keep it going!” I screamed.
“So you believe I created that storm?” he asked.
It caught me off guard. I looked at the empty tub, then said: “If you did, it wasn’t enough.”
“Wasn’t one raindrop enough to prove who I am?”
“Just keep it going!” Yannis yelled. “Give us more water!”
The Lord looked up at the thinning clouds.
“No,” he said.
Five
Sea
Day twelve. The water from the rainstorm will buy us a few more days if we ration correctly. Yannis wanted to gather what was in the raft bottom, but Geri said no, we don’t know how much seawater got mixed in. We can’t take a chance. Drinking seawater is potentially deadly. It leads to muscle spasms, confusion, and, of all things, dehydration. How strange, Annabelle. So much water everywhere, and all of it undrinkable.
We have also suffered another small casualty. The handheld fan. It died an hour ago. Geri had been holding it up to little Alice’s face when the blades stopped. Most of us were watching, and a few of us groaned. Lambert groaned the loudest.
“You wasted it,” he said.
“Shut up, Jason,” Yannis said.
Earlier this morning, Geri, Yannis, Nina, Lambert, and I sat outside the canopy while the Lord slept underneath it. We don’t stay outside for long, as the sun is brutal. But we wanted to speak where he couldn’t hear us.
“Do you think he created that rain?” Yannis whispered.
“Don’t be stupid,” Lambert said.
“We still don’t know how he survived in the ocean,” Geri said.
“He got lucky. So what?”
“He gets hungry and thirsty like we do,” I said.
“And he sleeps,” Yannis added. “Why would God sleep?”
“What about Bernadette?” Nina asked.
“That’s hard to explain,” Yannis admitted.
“No, it isn’t,” Lambert said. “What did he actually do?”
“He brought her back to life.”
“You don’t know that. She could have woken up on her own.”
“She did die a day later,” Geri said.
“Yeah,” Lambert added. “Where’s the miracle in that?”
“The rain could be a coincidence,” Yannis said.
“Then how come it hadn’t rained before?” Nina said.
“But why would God stop it when we needed it most?” I asked.
“Read the Old Testament,” Lambert scoffed. “God is fickle, mean, and vindictive. Another reason I never took to religion.”
“You’ve read the Old Testament?” Geri asked.
“Enough of it,” Lambert mumbled.
Jean Philippe crawled out from the canopy, so we stopped talking. He wants to believe what he chooses about his wife’s passing. We should respect that.
Meanwhile, I fear Nevin is slipping badly. He is quite pale and his leg wound, despite our best efforts, is only getting worse. An hour ago, when I began writing you, I heard him call my name. His lips were covered with blisters and his voice was feeble and halting.
“Benji …,” he croaked, waving two fingers. “Can you … come here … ?”
I crawled over to his tall, thin body. His injured leg was elevated over the side.
“What is it, Nevin?” I said.
“Benji … I have three children …”
“That’s good.”
“I … I see you writing in your … uh … notebook. Might you be able to … transcribe a message for them … from me, I mean?”
I looked down at my pen and said, “All right.”
“The thing is … I’ve not spent … the time with them … that I should have …”
“It’s OK, Nevin, you will.”
He grunted and forced a small smile. I could tell he didn’t believe me.
“My youngest … Alexander … he’s … a good boy … a bit bashful …”
“Yes—”
“Tall, like me … married a nice woman, a … a history teacher … I believe …”
He voice grew thinner. He rolled his eyes away from me.
“Keep going, Nevin. What do you want me to write?”
“I missed their wedding,” he rasped. “Business meeting …”
He looked back at me as if pleading.
“My youngest child … I … told him … it couldn’t be helped …” His right hand fell limply across his chest. “It could have been helped.”
I asked again what he wanted me to write, even though I already knew. He blinked his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Land
LeFleur entered his house quietly. The sun had already set. He had the notebook tucked into a briefcase.
“Jarty? Where have you been?”
Patrice appeared out of the kitchen. She wore jeans and a lime-green T-shirt that draped loosely on her thin frame. Her feet were bare.
“Sorry.”
“You left this morning, you didn’t call all day.”
“You’re right.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Some junk floated up on the north shore. I had to drive up and check it out.”
“You still could have called.”
“You’re right.”
She paused, looking at him. She scratched her elbow. “So? Anything interesting?”
“Not really.”
“I have dinner.”
“I’m tired.”
“I made all this food.”
“OK, OK.”
An hour later, having finished the meal, LeFleur said he wanted to watch the soccer game. Patrice rolled her eyes. He knew she would. He remembered a time when their communication was kinder, their exchanges tinged with the gentility of love. They had lost that in the wreckage of Lilly’s death.
“I’m going upstairs then,” Patrice said.
“I won’t be long.”
“Are you all right, Jarty?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. If the game’s boring, I won’t watch the whole thing.”
She turned without response and climbed the steps. LeFleur went into the back room, flicked on the television, then carefully removed the notebook from his briefcase. He knew everything he was doing was wrong. Taking this notebook from the raft. Failing to inform the higher authorities. Lying to Patrice. It was as if he had tumbled into a rabbit hole and couldn’t stop himself from falling in deeper. Part of him kept pushing to go on, take the next step, learn the secrets of this unexpected entry into his life.
He reread the message on the notebook’s inside cover:
To whoever finds this—
There is no one left. Forgive me my sins.
I love you, Annabelle DeChapl—