by John Shors
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 passed 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 unbuttoned her shirt. When each button 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 breasts 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 shore. 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 shore. 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 shore, 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?”
“I don’t want to go out there.”
“May I, Annie? May I, please?”
She sighed. “What?”
Akira reached for her hand, cradling it in his own. “The dolphins are having fun, yes?”
“It looks that way.”
“Do you think they would be having such fun if sharks were nearby?”
“I’m not an expert on dolphins, Akira. I have no idea.”
He paused, as if not expecting such a response. After a dolphin leapt, he said, “I know that bad things have happened to you. Terrible things. But I think now . . . I think that right now you are like a caged bird. And even when the door to your cage is opened, you do not fly free. You are drawn to the dolphins yet you do not fly free.”
Annie’s face tightened. “You’re judging me.”
“So sorry, but no, I am not. I only see something beautiful that I want to watch set free. If my words are not right, then please accept my apology. I will not repeat them.”
She started to speak but stopped, seeing that he had lowered his head as if suddenly ashamed of advising her, of causing her pain. “I’m not angry at you, Akira,” she said, wondering if he was right, if she really was like a caged bird. “It’s just that I’m afraid of that water.”
“Then please do not swim. We will sit here and observe.”
Annie nodded, noticing in her peripheral vision that Jake and Ratu were also standing on the shore, presumably watching the dolphins. Earlier in the day, when Jake had been talking at length with Joshua, Annie had seen Ratu crying by the sea.
She’d started to walk over to him, but upon seeing her advance, he’d stood up and run down the beach. Annie could only guess at the source of his pain, and for much of the morning had wondered how she could bring a smile to his face. She’d longed to do just that—to make him laugh and forget about whatever ailed him.
An idea dawning within her, Annie turned to Akira. “Thank you,” she said simply. She then started walking toward Ratu. Walking quickly. Soon she was running. She hurried with a sudden desperation, a desperation born of fear that the dolphins would leave, or worse, that her anxiety would again overcome her and she’d change her mind. When she finally reached Ratu, she took his hand. “Will . . . will you . . . will you please swim with me?” she asked, winded.
“With the dolphins, Miss Annie?”
“With the dolphins. With me.”
“Brilliant,” he said, removing his shirt with a sudden exuberance.
Annie turned to Jake. “Would you mind, Jake, closing your eyes for a moment?”
Jake withdrew a blade of grass from his mouth. “Happily done, miss,” he replied, turning toward the jungle, pleased that she was taking Ratu for such a swim.
Annie stripped to her undergarments. She took Ratu’s hand. “Will you lead me?”
“I’ll bloody well try,” he said excitedly, pulling her into the harbor.
The water was warm against her calves, her thighs, her belly. Soon she was swimming. At first she put her head above the water and tried to see the bottom. At first she felt a fear of the unknown. But then, something somehow changed. Her arms and legs seemed surprisingly strong. Her ears filled with Ratu’s laughter. And the sea didn’t seem to pull her under, but to caress and carry her.
“They aren’t leaving!” Ratu shouted. “I tell you, Miss Annie, they aren’t bloody leaving!”
Annie glanced toward the deeper water and saw that the dolphins didn’t seem concerned by the approaching swimmers. The creatures continued their playful antics—circling one another and leaping above the turquoise water. Annie was now close enough to realize that several of the dolphins were much larger than their companions.
When Annie and Ratu were about thirty feet from the dolphins, the creatures stopped leaping from the sea and started to slowly circle their visitors. The dolphins stayed close together, the pod they formed reminding Annie of the military convoys she’d seen from the deck of Benevolence. However, within no more than a minute, the pod loosened. The dolphins circled closer. Soon Annie and Ratu could see bright eyes and old scars. Soon they could hear the creatures calling to each other through a chaotic mixture of whistles, clicks, and chirps. Annie thought that the whistles sounded similar to what she often heard in the jungle as birds screeched at each other.
The dolphins swam at the surface or near it. One of the larger creatures dove almost directly beneath the humans. Bubbles from its blowhole drifted into them, and the sensation of the bubbles bumping along his leg caused Ratu to laugh.
To Annie’s surprise and delight, the dolphins continued to draw closer. Two of them were much smaller, and she wondered how old the babies were. The biggest dolphins seemed to be the most inquisitive and vocal. These animals, with their gray backs and white bellies, swam an arm’s length away from Annie and Ratu.
“Let’s look at them underwater!” Ratu suddenly said.
“Won’t the salt sting our eyes?”
“So? A little stinging salt won’t hurt you. Not a bloody bit, Miss Annie.”
Annie laughed, took a deep breath, and dropped underwater. She opened her eyes. They immediately hurt, but she resisted the urge to close them. A dolphin was quite close to her, and she watched in wonder as it swam directly toward her. She reached out slowly, and though it didn’t touch her, it swam beside her. Annie marveled at the beauty of the creature, as well as its grace and permanent smile. She’d listened to dying soldiers speak of angels, and of how such apparitions moved upon the air. To her, the dolphins were angels of sorts, for their grace was something that she’d never before beheld. The dolphins moved with an almost divine loveliness, floating through the water as if each had been doing so for thousands of years.
Annie surfaced, rubbed her aching eyes, and returned to the world below. The dolphins were very close now, circling Annie and Ratu in a manner suggesting that the animals were highly interested in their visitors. Annie was surprised to see Ratu dive deep and pretend to be a dolphin, arching his back and gliding through the water. A dolphin darted toward him, then stopped to float upward as he did. Annie instinctively clapped. Repeating Ratu’s idea, she mimicked the movements of the sleek creatures, kicking downward with her legs together and her arms at her side. Two dolphins swam toward her, and she smiled as they bumped into each other, almost as if competing for her attention.
For the next few minutes, Annie was in awe of the scene before her. A marvelous intimacy seemed to exist between her and the dolphins. She felt as though they were honoring her, letting her into their world and asking for nothing in return. Watching the dolphins so unabashedly play, she resolved to not worry as much about the future. Akira was right. She’d been caged for far too long. Despite trying to step from her cage by volunteering for the war effort, she hadn’t stepped far enough. And though she was still bound by her darkest fears and these binds were almost impossible to sever, she was going to try to break free.
At that moment, with the dolphins gliding about her, Annie realized that the sea could be dark and cold and unforgiving but could also be full of light and warmth and hope. And was life any different? Yes, she had almost died three times—once as a girl and twice as a woman. And those scars would never truly leave her. But a scar shows that a wound has mostly healed, and if something has mostly healed, why did she need to live in fear of it? Why shouldn’t she venture into the jungle near camp, the water of the harbor, or her true feelings for Akira?
When the dolphins finally headed toward much deeper water, Annie and Ratu surfaced. Rubbing their bloodshot eyes, they laughed and spoke excitedly about what they’d seen. Ratu was convinced that he’d made friends with the largest one. “I tell you, Miss Annie,” he said, “that big boy smiled at me many times. He opened his mouth and smiled at me.”
“How do you know it was a he?”
“Because the other dolphins were all younger girls. Trust me, Miss Annie. I have five little sisters and I know how sisters can drive a brother crazy. My mate, Ratu Junior, was just trying to escape his sisters. That’s why he fancied swimming with me.”
Laughing, Annie splashed water into Ratu’s face. “Did you ever think that Ratu Junior could have been a big sister with a lot of little brothers? Maybe she was trying to escape them!”
“You didn’t see Ratu Junior, Miss Annie. You were too busy swimming with Spotted Sally.”
“Spotted Sally? Did you name them all?”
“Of course. How can someone be your mate if you don’t know his name? There was Ratu Junior; Spotted Sally; Blue-nose Beauty; Smiley; and the twins, Teeny and Tiny.”
“Did you tell them your name?”
“Don’t be silly, Miss Annie. I can’t bloody well talk underwater. And I can’t talk to dolphins. But I’m sure they came up with their own name for me.”
Annie splashed him again and he laughed. He sprayed water her way, and before she knew it, he swam to her, pushed on her shoulders with his outstretched arms, and sent her underwater.
After Annie surfaced and had her revenge, she turned toward the shore, noticed the distant figure of Akira, and waved happily to him. He waved back, and feeling warm and invigorated, she asked Ratu if he’d like to swim deeper into the water and try to rediscover his newfound friends.
NEARLY ATOP A BANYAN tree on the far side of the beach, Roger peered through the airman’s binoculars. When he saw Annie wave at Akira, he cursed and then spat in disgust. “That little bitch,” he whispered, shaking his aching head in bewilderment. “She likes the goddamn Nip.”
Though Roger was an agent of the Japanese, he
despised them as much as he did everyone else. They simply paid him enough that he was able to set his hate aside and deal with the task at hand. If the Americans were as generous, he’d gladly kill Japanese.
The image of Annie waving to Akira reminded Roger of his elementary school days in Tokyo. He’d been allowed to attend a private school on the condition that he spend an hour each day speaking English with some of the teachers. At first, the new school had been fascinating. Like everyone else, he wore a uniform, so none of his classmates ever saw his worn and patched clothes. However, he’d been much taller than everyone else, had an early onset case of acne, and could barely understand Japanese. Consequently, the uniform hadn’t mattered as much as he’d hoped. Under the navy blue fabric he’d still been a gaijin—a foreigner. And his odd ways and insecure manner had made him easy to ridicule.
Once, when Roger wasn’t aware that he was being spied on by other boys, he’d waved to a girl he thought was curious about him. Instead of waving back, the girl had put her head down and run until she disappeared. The boys who’d been watching burst from their hiding place and laughed until Roger was forced to rush off as well. In the following days, the story of his wave permeated the school. The girl was so embarrassed that she never spoke to him again. The episode had increased Roger’s anxiety, worsening his case of acne. Soon many of his classmates began to call him Mount Fuji because of the large pimples that dominated his forehead and chin.
Roger had lived with such taunts and smirks until he’d bested the boy in the kendo match. After that match, after realizing that through his strength he’d find salvation, Roger began to stalk and assault his tormentors. He’d faced them when they were alone, when his greater size and determination allowed him to overwhelm them. Knowing their shame would be so great that they’d never reveal him, he hurt them badly, bloodying them until they begged him to stop, until they happily handed him the coins in their pockets. After anyone who taunted him turned up at school with a black eye or a swollen lip, Roger was rarely ridiculed.
Once four boys had banded together to attack Roger and had managed to knock him unconscious with their kendo swords. Roger told no one about his attackers, but as soon as his strength returned, he hunted them down individually. After beating them into submission, he’d taken off their sandals and broken each of their big toes. The boys limped for the rest of the year and no one bothered him again.
