“Maybe we can stay on the beach?” I said. “Tonight, I mean. It’s very late to try to find lodging at a hotel.”
Kashmir held my gaze for a long time before answering. “As you will.” Then he dropped the bag and flung himself down beside it.
I tried to smile. “What, Kashmir?” I gestured out across the ocean, taking in the fiery sunset, the soft sand, the nodding palms. “You don’t like the accommodations?”
He didn’t answer at first, but his green eyes shone in the dying light. Then he slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper, holding it up between his first two fingers. My heart sank and I snatched the letter from his hands, but his expression didn’t change. “Dearest Mr. Hart,” he recited, still watching my face. “I have little time to write, and even less to visit, so instead—”
“Kashmir—”
“So instead, I have left something for you in the place you promised one day you’d show me, the day we went on the hike. I cannot say more except to ask your forgiveness. Nix.”
“You don’t understand.” I shoved the letter back into my pocket.
“I thought I did, the other day. When you kissed him.”
I blushed, deeply, but I didn’t drop my gaze, although Kash didn’t make it easy. Finally he broke, looking down to pull an orange out of my bag, and I was grateful for the small mercy.
“But then I wondered,” he went on. “What on earth could you be leaving for him?”
I folded my arms and watched the waves advancing, receding. “He wasn’t supposed to make a map that worked. I practically spelled it out for him.”
Kashmir laughed softly. “You expected him to let you go so easily?” He dropped the orange peel all in one piece beside him and sectioned the orange. “Not everyone has your skill for it. I will admit, I was relieved to read that you would not see him. Although I did notice you didn’t say good-bye.”
“It’s implied. Like I said in the letter, I didn’t have much time.”
“If the captain has his way, you could have your whole life.” He offered me a slice of orange, but I stared at it. He shrugged and ate it himself. “I know you’ve considered it.”
“Kashmir . . .” I fumbled for the words. What could I say to him, this boy who knew me so well? The truth, of course; he knew already. “It’s compelling. I can feel it now, the pull my father feels toward a place and time. This is where I would have grown up. This is the life I would have had. The friends and . . . the family.” I took up a handful of sand and let it pour through my fingers. “And maybe—maybe if I’d never known another life, it’s a life I could’ve loved. But that’s not what happened. I won’t be staying. The Temptation is my home.” I reached over and took his hand. We were quiet for a while. The sun was gone, and only a slender belt of gold along the horizon remained. “At least, for now.”
He squeezed my fingers. “Until when?”
I put my other hand to my throat. “Do you remember that night in New York? When you gave me my necklace? Remember we talked about jumping ship?”
“I do.”
“Now that I can Navigate . . . if I did leave the ship—I’m not saying I will. But if I did. Would you come with me?”
His answer was immediate. “You know I would.”
I let my breath out; I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it. Then I grinned at him. “We could get our own boat.”
“I’ve never stolen a boat before.”
“You’ve stolen enough we could buy a boat,” I said, thinking of the pile of jewelry he’d given me over the years. All the treasure I hadn’t cared for at the time. I might not even need the map of Carthage.
“Who would be captain?” he said.
“Uh, I would.”
“Oh, no, no no. Guess again.”
“You can’t mutiny, we don’t have a ship yet.”
“I’m planning ahead.”
I grinned at him, suddenly feeling free—expansive—like full sails and an open horizon. “If you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?”
“Could we find a map of someplace perfect?”
“Like paradise?” I asked, teasing.
“Here? No.” He stared upward, the first stars shining in his eyes. “A better place. Someplace where nothing goes wrong. There must be a myth like that somewhere.”
I bit my lip; my shoulders fell. “Navigation involves the beliefs of the Navigator and the mapmaker. And I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who truly believes in a world without suffering.”
“Ah.”
I dragged my fingers through the soft sand. “You know, Slate was right. This place is dying. If I’d grown up here, I would be seeing it firsthand, like Blake is.”
“And you wouldn’t have met me, which is the main thing, of course!”
I laughed. “Of course.” I let go of his hand, and then, a moment later, I wished I hadn’t. “I will admit though. It was fun.”
He sat up, cross-legged, facing me. “Being in Hawaii?”
“Flirting with a stranger.” I ducked my chin, suddenly shy. “I can see why you like it.”