Beside A Burning Sea Part 7

Akira glanced at the sea, thinking of the wonderful young minds he had encountered, thinking of his former life. "Because your poem . . . it reminded me of another time. A far better time."

As much as she enjoyed his words, Annie was reluctant to continue the conversation. And so she nodded and stood. The sun felt comforting against her face, as if she'd been awaiting its caress. She thanked him and then began to slowly walk down the beach. She wanted to believe him-believe that her days of being afraid were done. And she wanted to believe that he was proud of her. When was the last time, she asked herself, that anyone outside her family was proud of her?

As she continued to walk, Annie couldn't help but wonder how Akira seemed to know her. Was it because of that night, the night he saved her? Had that night somehow bound him to her? Does that happen when you almost die to save someone else? When a stranger's heart beats against you as you feel yourself slipping away? When your blood and tears wash over her? Annie had spent three days with Akira and a thousand days with Ted. And yet this stranger, this j.a.panese soldier, seemed to understand her more deeply than did her fiance.

"He liked my poem," she whispered, as if she wished to share a secret with the sea.

Though the sea stayed silent, Annie didn't mind. And though she was alone, she didn't feel alone. She knew that his eyes were upon her, and strangely, this knowledge warmed her as much as the sun.

SITTING ON A FALLEN TREE, Isabelle and Joshua took turns sipping from an army canteen. The water they'd taken from a nearby stream possessed a slightly metallic taste but otherwise seemed clear and fresh. Above them soared the jungle's canopy, which was so thick that they might as well have been living within some sort of infinite greenhouse or cave. The usual noises-hoots and screeches and chirps-seemed to echo off this canopy, strengthening the sounds.

"Wouldn't some fresh-ground coffee taste good right now?" Isabelle asked, wiping sweat from her brow.

Joshua unconsciously licked his lips. "Even stale coffee would be good," he somewhat absently replied. "Stale, two-day-old coffee with cigarette ashes in it."

"Let's not get too carried away. We haven't been here that long."

"True enough."

Isabelle moved closer to her husband, putting her hand on his leg. She looked into his eyes, and he almost immediately glanced at the trees above. She knew that he avoided her stare when something troubled him-almost as if he feared that she'd peer into his eyes, see his pain, ask him about it, and demand answers that he didn't have. This habit of his had always annoyed her. After all, she didn't want him to interpret her questions and concerns as things to avoid.

Joshua's obvious misery prompted Isabelle to consider sharing her secret. For days she'd been tempted to tell him, tempted to tell Annie. But she'd told no one. The time had never felt quite right, and besides, Isabelle was someone who liked to deal in certainties, and when it came to her secret she was certain of very little. Moreover, though she longed to share her thoughts with Joshua, she didn't want to raise his hopes and then later dash them. And she didn't want him to feel that she was manipulating the situation to make him happier.

"What's on your mind?" she finally asked, once they'd started to walk again.

"Oh, nothing really."

"Joshua, don't say that when I know it's not true."

He pushed a flowering vine aside and held it at bay so she could pa.s.s. "You know what's bothering me, Isabelle. So why do you ask? I lost my ship. Almost my entire crew is dead. What the h.e.l.l do you think is on my mind?"

"That tone isn't necessary. Don't take it with me again."

He swatted at a mosquito, and when the jungle cleared slightly he moved beside her. "I'm trying," he said, his voice softening. "I'm trying, G.o.d help me, to lead, to do what needs to be done. But it's not easy. It's awful, in fact. I'm a fraud. And I don't want to lead anyone. I don't deserve to. I'm only trying to because of you. Because of Annie."

"You're not a fraud. Not by-"

"You, more than anyone else, should understand where I'm coming from."

"I do understand."

"Then why are you asking me about it? Can't you see that I want to be left alone?"

"Why? Because maybe I can help. Because this island isn't a ship, and you don't have to lead alone. You're not standing on the bridge with men looking to you for orders."

"I don't know-"

"I want to help. That's all. To help you. Is that so wrong?"

He unb.u.t.toned his sweat-drenched shirt almost to his belly. "No, it's not," he admitted, slowing his pace. "And I'm sorry . . . for snapping at you. For pushing you away. I don't mean to. And you don't deserve it. But I am used to being on my own, to standing on my bridge. Remember that for most of this war I haven't had you around."

"I'm here, Josh. Right next to you. Right where I'm supposed to be."

They came to a fallen sandalwood tree and he helped her over it. Nearby a green and yellow parrot suddenly took flight, leaves dropping in its wake. "I don't know," he said, "if I'll ever get over what happened to Benevolence Benevolence. I paid more attention to my crew than I did to my own life, to you. And now they're gone forever."

"They didn't die in vain."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure about that. But . . ."

"But what?"

"But I'm sure that I'll try . . . I'll really try to let you in."

"I want to be in."

"I just . . . I think about everything I could have done differently. Checking the cargo. Having another lookout. Running more emergency drills. If I'd done things differently, so many good people wouldn't have died." He closed his eyes. "But I was a fool."

Isabelle knew that nothing she could ever say about his handling of Benevolence Benevolence would ease his guilt. And so she replied, "Just remember that we're at war. And things like this happen in war. That's why millions are dead already." would ease his guilt. And so she replied, "Just remember that we're at war. And things like this happen in war. That's why millions are dead already."

He nodded but said nothing, continuing to trudge through the jungle. Though they used to take many walks together, she'd never seen him move so-with his shoulders slouched and his eyes oblivious to the world around him. Despite his just having angered her, it hurt her to sense the depth of his sorrow, to know that while he was doing his best to lead, he was nearly a broken man. And though she didn't want to manipulate the moment by sharing her news, she eased closer to his side and prepared to tell him her secret.

"We should be nearing the eastern beaches," he said. "There can't be much more of this jungle. I just don't-"

"Josh?"

He turned to her. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. But I do have something . . . something to share with you."

"What is it?"

Isabelle stopped walking and brushed her long, damp hair from her face. "I think . . . I'm fairly confident that I'm pregnant." Joshua didn't say anything, but almost immediately dropped his gaze to her belly. "It's too early for me to show," she added. "But all the signs are there."

"When . . . when are you due?" he said slowly, as if awaking from a dream.

"Probably in just under seven months."

"So you've known for a month? And said nothing?"

She moved closer to him, tilting her head back so that she could look into his eyes. "I wanted to wait until we were ash.o.r.e. Until we could go out and do something fun. To surprise you that way."

"And why not here? On the hill?"

"Because you needed to mourn the dead. And I didn't want to cheat you, or them, of that."

"And Annie? Does she know?"

"No, no. Not yet. I wanted to tell you first."

He put his hands on her shoulders, concern suddenly softening his face. "How are you feeling, Izzy?"

"Just fine. Good, in fact."

"Here I am . . . feeling sorry for myself, snapping at you. And you're-"

"It's alright."

"Are you sleeping well? Are you getting enough food?"

"Oh, with all the fresh fish and fruit here, I'm eating better than I would back home. And there's plenty of time to sleep. So don't worry yourself. Just think about being a father by springtime."

Joshua shook his head in wonder and smiled. Without warning, he dropped to his knees and placed his right hand against her belly. When her oversized shirt got in the way, he eased his hand under the fabric, so that his palm rested against her flesh. He held his hand against her, moving it slowly around her belly as if searching for something he'd lost in the darkness. "Are you sure you don't show? You feel . . . different. Your sides seem thicker."

"I don't know for sure that I'm pregnant. And my sides aren't thicker."

"You're a woman and a nurse. You know." Joshua wrapped his arms around her and leaned his face against her belly. "We've tried for so long," he said, his voice suddenly stronger and happier than she recalled it having been for quite some time. "I wonder why now?"

"That's a good question. But somehow . . . being here, with you, it seems right."

He stroked her skin with his thumb. He started to speak but then stopped, instead pausing to thank G.o.d for this gift. Finally, he said, "I love you, Isabelle. I don't say it nearly enough, I know. But I'd be lost without you."

"You've never been lost, Josh."

"Neither have you."

She smiled. "We haven't had time for it."

"You'll be a wonderful mother. You'll teach our child so much."

Isabelle ran her hands through his hair. He hadn't held her like this in many months, and she was in no hurry for the moment to end. She felt him press his ear against her belly, and smiled. "You won't hear a heartbeat yet. But soon."

"I used to be a submariner, you know. I have a good ear."

"Well, submariner, what do you hear?"

"The two of you," he replied, grinning. "I definitely hear something. And it must be the two of you."

"What does it sound like?"

"Water."

"Water?"

"Doesn't all life come from water?"

Isabelle smiled, dropping to her knees so that she faced him. "I love you too," she said, kissing him. "And I don't say it enough either. I think we're the same in that way. We kind of close ourselves up."

"War does that."

"I know. But we don't have to let it."

"You're right," he said, and then kissed her gently. His hand once again fell to her belly, his thumb stroking her flesh.

"Are you going to walk around camp with your hand under my shirt?"

"Maybe. I don't have a bridge, but I'm still in charge." He kissed her forehead, happily offering another quick prayer of grat.i.tude. "I'd . . . almost lost hope about being a father. I wanted it so much, but . . . but I'd lost hope."

"You deserve this," she replied, finding his eyes. "No one deserves it more."

Joshua didn't avoid her gaze, and Isabelle saw the joy in his face-a joy that had been lacking since long before Benevolence Benevolence sank. She hadn't been certain how he'd react to her news, and now as she looked at him, she felt as close to him as she ever had. He was a good man, and he loved her. And though she was strong and sure of the steps before her, she would be stronger and surer and happier with him at her side. sank. She hadn't been certain how he'd react to her news, and now as she looked at him, she felt as close to him as she ever had. He was a good man, and he loved her. And though she was strong and sure of the steps before her, she would be stronger and surer and happier with him at her side.

MUCH LATER IN THE DAY, when the sun had just dropped from the sky, Ratu made his way to Nathan. As he hurried over the cooling sand, Ratu kicked a sea sponge in front of him. Pretending that he was a famous soccer player, he kicked the sponge until he neared the jungle. He then launched it forward, cheering after it struck the middle of the banyan tree.

"Good shot, lad," Nathan said, applauding.

"It was b.l.o.o.d.y good, wasn't it?" Ratu replied happily. Before Nathan could respond, Ratu asked, "Since the captain is gone, you're the boss, right?"

"I suppose so. But not really."

"Well, since you're the boss, I was wondering if I could take some old palm fronds, light them on fire, and spear all the fish that come to investigate."

Nathan rose from a log. "Fish come to fire?"

"Of course. I tell you, they're just like us-full of curiosity. My father and I used to spear them by the boatload. If you let Big Jake and me light the fronds, everyone could eat delicious fish tonight."

Glancing into the jungle behind him, Nathan wondered about the whereabouts of the captain and his wife. "I don't know. Maybe we should wait until-"

"Oh, you can decide. You won't get into trouble. It's only a few palm fronds. If we hear a plane or see a boat, we'll just throw them in the water."

"Can you keep the fires small?"

"Of course. As small as necessary. Don't worry, Mr. Nathan. Everything will be fine."

"You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. Now you go back to your photo and just leave the fishing to Big Jake and me."

Despite his reservations, Nathan smiled at Ratu's obvious excitement. "My son would get along with you so well. He's about your age, and loves getting into mischief."

"We'd be great mates, then."