Beside A Burning Sea Part 15

THE JUNGLE, AS ALWAYS, met them with complete indifference. Carrying the machete, Joshua walked ahead of Isabelle. Though he'd have liked to clear a path for the others to follow, he was afraid that the j.a.panese would stumble upon such a trail and be led directly to the cave. And so he memorized the way, noting the number of streams that needed to be crossed as well as a variety of landmarks. He'd later explain the route to everyone and ensure that each could find the cave on her or his own.

At first, Isabelle hadn't wanted to make the long walk, but upon seeing the look in her husband's eyes, which hinted of a newfound self-respect, she agreed to come. She'd never experienced the jungle, and now, as she eyed the foreign trees and birds, she felt like an explorer. Isabelle had studied Darwin in school, and imagined that an expedition of his might have been similar to what she experienced now. Though aware that she lacked the necessary patience to study animals and plants, she'd have enjoyed organizing and overseeing such an expedition. And Annie could certainly have drawn the wildlife and mused over the strange creatures that abounded within the jungle.

Moving through a maze of flowering sandalwood trees, she asked, "Do you like it here?"

Joshua pointed out a bright-green snake and made certain that she pa.s.sed well clear of it. "I'm not sure. I think I like parts of it. But sometimes I feel like . . . like I'm being watched."

"Is that why you carry the machete?"

"Probably." He held her hand as they moved down a ravine, toward a thin stream. "Is this too much for you?" he asked, concerned when she grunted slightly.

"Don't be silly."

"We can go back if-"

"I want to see the cave, Joshua. I'd like to know where I'll be spending the next bit of my life."

"Speaking of that, did I tell you about the bathtub? And the fresh linen? And the piles of books and chocolates?"

She grinned, hitting him on the shoulder. "Don't tease a pregnant woman about chocolate."

The canopy above them parted and rays of sunlight angled down to strike moss and ferns. "It can be beautiful here, don't you think?"

Isabelle nodded, pleased to have heard him once again say something in jest. "We could honeymoon here," she said, taking mental notes of the landmarks they pa.s.sed. "In fact, I think Annie and Akira just might."

"You've noticed too?"

"How couldn't I? I don't know how or why it happened, but she seems to be drawn to him."

"And he to her. That's one of the reasons I trust him." Joshua switched his grip on the machete, his hand slick with sweat. "If Americans land here, I'll make sure he's treated well. He deserves to be."

"Yes, he does. But I still worry for her. What about Ted? Her life back home?"

"Oh, Ted's not so wonderful. I think Annie, of all people, would be better off without him."

Isabelle sighed. "He really doesn't get her, does he? Even though he tries."

"No."

"But what future could there possibly be with a j.a.panese soldier? For goodness' sake, he'd probably be locked up in one of those awful camps."

Joshua paused before a steep climb, handing her a canteen. An immense hermit crab scurried toward her, and he edged it away with his foot. The creature patiently dragged its weather-beaten sh.e.l.l over a branch and headed down the hill. "Can I tell you something?" he said, wanting to be honest with her, to open up to her as she'd asked him to. "Something serious? Something not altogether pleasant?"

"You can tell me anything you want, Joshua. You know that."

"You might not like all of it. But it's been on my mind and I want to-"

"I can handle it, whatever it is," she interrupted, trying to sound convincing.

Joshua took back the canteen from her and attached it to his belt. He licked his swollen lip, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. "I didn't think . . . I never expected to truly return from Benevolence Benevolence."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, to be honest . . . perhaps too honest . . . I didn't think I'd ever get back to who I was." He glanced at the canopy above, briefly avoiding her eyes. "Getting back to that person seemed impossible. Even . . . even with you beside me it seemed impossible."

An enormous fly landed on her arm, but she made no move to sweep it away. "Even with me beside you?"

"But I was wrong, Izzy," he said, his fingers reaching out to touch her cheek. "So very wrong."

"How?"

"A part of me . . . will always be on that ship. A part of me won't return."

"I know."

"But there's another part of me that will always be with you."

"The bigger part?"

"Yes, the bigger part."

"Then why do you suddenly look so lost?"

He absently batted the fly from her arm. "Because . . . even as happy as I am to become a father, I worry."

"About what?"

"About how much of me is left."

"There's plenty of you left."

"But you understand me, Isabelle. You know that a part of me is gone and you're strong enough not to suffer for it. And you have your own life. But what about our daughter? Or son? What if I can't be the father I want to be because I'm . . . I'm not whole? Won't our child suffer? Won't he recognize that I have less to offer than I should?"

Isabelle saw the sadness and concern in his eyes, and she squeezed his arm. "But, Joshua, you can still teach him about what it means to be good. To be n.o.ble. To laugh. That part of you . . . the part that I still know and see, can teach those things and a lot more."

"But I'm a failure. And how can a teacher be a failure?"

"You think teachers don't make mistakes? How can you learn if you've never made mistakes?"

He glanced at a leaf that dropped from the canopy above. "I just . . . I just want to be a good father, and sometimes I wonder if I'll be able."

"Will you love our child?"

"Of course."

"Then our child will be lucky. How could he not be lucky to have your love?"

"You think?"

"I don't think any of us are perfect. I probably won't be as . . . entertaining a mother as, say, Annie might. She'll teach her children to finger paint, to stomp in puddles, to chase pirates. I don't do those sorts of things. Those fun things. But I like to think I'll still be a good mother."

"You'll be a wonderful mother."

"Well, I feel the same about you. And if a year from now you're having a tough day, then go spend the day by yourself. You won't always need to offer our child every bit of your heart and soul. No one can do that."

Joshua pulled her closer to him, hugging her. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a . . . handful. I just don't want to shortchange our little one. And I worry about that."

"And I love you for worrying. But don't. You're not one to shortchange anything, Josh. If you were, I wouldn't have married you." She smiled, adding, "Believe me, the life of a navy wife isn't that grand."

He studied her face, thinking that the years had pa.s.sed too quickly. "How am I so lucky to have you?"

"Isn't it obvious? You made a wise choice."

"I did. I really did." He pressed his lips against hers and then took her hand. "I have something to show you."

"Something other than bugs and birds?"

"Trust me."

Joshua led her through what remained of the jungle. As they neared the eastern beach, they heard the restless surf. Upon reaching the rocky beach, Isabelle was surprised at what a different world existed on this side of the island. Gone was the peaceful enchantment that seemed to hang over the harbor. Instead, waves hurled themselves upon rocks and spray erupted skyward.

Continuing to hold her hand, Joshua led her past tide pools and boulders. Once, when they moved too close to the sea, a wave struck nearby, drenching them in its froth. As they walked, crabs and lizards scurried out of their way. Tiny fish darted about in transitory pools that were destined to forever change and forever remain the same.

"Do you see it?" he asked, when they reached the break in the cliffs.

Isabelle studied the rock and foliage before her. After a few seconds, she replied, "I wouldn't have."

"Let me show you."

They hurried into the cave, and she marveled at its size, the softness of the sand, the freshness of the water. The cave reminded her of an old cathedral. Muted light reached almost every part of it. Echoes abounded. An almost intoxicating coolness prevailed. Though the air was damp, the dampness wasn't nearly as insufferable as the heat outside.

"How wonderful," she said, not believing their good fortune, and excited to finally get the chance to organize a proper camp. "What a magnificent-"

Joshua gently lifted her chin, kissing her, savoring the fullness of her lips. "I'm glad you like it," he whispered.

"Is that, Captain Collins, why you brought me here? To seduce me?"

"It's been far too long since I've seduced you."

She kissed him leisurely, her hands sliding beneath his shirt to trace the contours of his shoulders. His lips moved to her neck. She arched her head backward to expose more of her flesh, and he eagerly exploited this invitation. As he savored the softness of her throat, he slowly unb.u.t.toned her shirt. When each b.u.t.ton was unmoored, he spread her shirt farther apart and kissed the flesh that had been hidden. He kissed her collarbone, her freckles, the small mole near the middle of her chest. He kissed all of her, delighting in the unfamiliar taste of salt on her skin. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s seemed slightly larger than normal, and he explored this new element of her with his lips.

When Joshua finished removing her shirt, he laid it on the sand. He took off his own clothes and added them to the bed he fashioned. He carefully helped her to this bed, and she sighed at the soft sand beneath her. When she was naked, he traced the slopes of her with his fingers. "You're changing," he said reflectively, in wonder at the transition within her.

"Is it . . . is it a good change?"

"It's a beautiful change, Izzy."

He kissed her lips, her eyes, her forehead. His mouth moved to her belly, and as he kissed it she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered of her love for him.

ON THE OTHER SIDE of the island, Annie and Akira sat under a palm tree and watched the breeze pull clouds across the sky. Akira had told her that he thought the clouds looked like giant white whales. Annie had said they could have been waves breaking upon a distant sh.o.r.e. The two castaways had been speaking of how poets looked at everyday images through eyes that didn't take such things for granted. Eyes that tended to see the world as if it were being observed for the first or last time.

"I think poets examine things as children do," Akira said softly. "And sometimes the way you do."

Annie moved her toes into and out of the sand. "How so?"

"Because children see more than most adults, yes? Sometime, watch a child looking curiously at . . . something very ordinary. I believe that child is not seeing what you and I see, but something else. And that is how poets . . . interpret their surroundings."

"And me?"

"You ask questions like a child. And you seek experiences like a poet."

"So, I'm a child poet?"

He smiled. "You said this, not me. But, yes, that is an excellent term for you."

She playfully kicked him in the calf. "Well, I'll just have to think of one for you."

Akira was about to respond when he noticed several fins in the harbor. "Sharks," he said, pointing toward the water.

Standing up, Annie replied, "No, not sharks. Dolphins. Like the ones I saw the other day."

As Annie and Akira watched, the fins came closer to sh.o.r.e. There must have been at least six dolphins, each of which seemed to want to lead the group. Suddenly, one of the dolphins leapt high, slicing through the air and then the water.

"Let's get closer," Annie said, hurrying forward.

Though the dolphins were several hundred feet from sh.o.r.e, each dorsal fin was visible when the creatures rose into the world above. The dolphins appeared to be playing-almost as if they were a group of children enjoying a game of tag. Circling, twisting, and speeding through the sea, they frolicked in the gentle waves, often leaping far from the water.

Akira touched Annie's elbow. "You should swim to them, yes?"

"What do you mean?"

"You should swim out there and get close to them. What a fine memory that would be."

"I can't do that."

"May I ask why not?"

She stepped from him. "Look how far out they are. That water's deep. And the last time I was in deep water, I almost died. And I don't want to go out there. It's too deep and there could be sharks and I don't even think I could see the bottom."

Akira turned to her, noting that her face suddenly seemed flushed. "May I . . . may I take your hand and tell you something?"