When she didn’t respond, he called out. “Aren’t you glad to be back at the ocean?”
After a pause, she answered, “No.”
He checked in the rearview mirror. “Why not?”
“Because I know this will be my last time.”
***
The awkwardness that had descended in the car lingered on the beach. Jason encouraged Kailani to play in the waves, but she declined, instead dragging her feet through the sand with head bowed. They stayed only fifteen minutes. When he asked what he could do to cheer her up, she suggested they find sweets for this, their final outing. Jason quickly agreed, and Helena proposed the perfect place: Uncle Bill’s.
“What’s Uncle Bill’s?” Kailani said.
“A candy store like no other,” Helena said. “And you’ll soon see why.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
“It’s one of my favorite places, where my father used to take me to buy candy as a reward.”
“A reward for what?”
“For getting a good review in academy. He’d give me one chocolate for each perfect grade.”
“And tell Kailani,” Jason said, “how many chocolates you earned?”
Helena winked at Kailani. “All of them.”
Before going into Uncle Bill’s, they paused to watch the taffy pull that whirred in the store window. Several pounds of sugary candy hung on a hook, while two steel arms twisted it in slow overlapping circles.
“What is it?” Kailani said, mesmerized by the spinning arms.
“Saltwater taffy,” Jason said. “After it’s cooked, it needs to be pulled to make it thin enough to cut into bite-sized pieces.”
“It’s a funny motion, like a dance. May I try some?”
“Of course.”
He took her by the hand to lead her inside, but before crossing the threshold, she pulled away. “Will I have to go back after this?”
Jason squatted down and grasped her by the shoulders. “We’ll have a little time to sit on a bench and eat our candy, but after that, we’ll have to return you to the department. Do you understand?”
She nodded and stepped inside.
The first order of business was to buy taffy. Kailani toured the bins, each crammed with candy in brightly colored wrappers. She picked a dozen pieces and plopped them into a white paper bag.
After Jason paid, he held the bag open to let her choose.
She closed her eyes and pulled one out. “How do I open it?”
“I’m a saltwater taffy expert,” Jason said as he took the piece from her. “Watch.”
He grasped the twist on either end and pulled. The glob of taffy spun around until it lay exposed, stuck to one side of the waxy paper.
He offered it up with both hands. “Go ahead. Lick it right off the paper.”
Kailani licked and gave a weak smile.
“There’s more candy over here.” Helena urged them on to the back of the store.
Kailani took the bag and studied the remaining pieces. “I think I’ll just eat my candy and watch the taffy pull.”
Over by the window, the taffy machine chugged, separated from customers by a polished mahogany bar. Kailani drifted over to it, sliding a finger along as she passed. She settled on a wooden stool, folded her arms on the bar, and rested her chin on them.
Jason backed away, keeping an eye on her until he felt a touch on his hand. Helena’s fingers prodded his, which had tensed into a fist. She pried them loose, and he let their fingers intertwine.
“She’ll be all right,” Helena said. “Come see. Remember these? My favorites.” She led him to a glass case that contained stacks of soft butter caramels.
When he offered to buy some, her face lit up in a way he’d hoped Kailani’s would. He brought the candy to a counter with an old-fashioned cash register and waited for the clerk to ring it up.
When he turned to hand the caramels to Helena, his smile vanished. “Where’s Kailani?”
The stool was empty. The white paper bag lay on the floor, pieces of taffy spilling out around it.
He scanned the corners of the store, then rushed outdoors with Helena close behind. They glanced north toward Molly’s and south toward the sea. Kailani was gone.
“She only knows the way to the beach,” he said too loudly. “She must’ve gone there.”
They dashed through the village and past the harbor, not stopping until they reached the breakwater that protected the beach from storms. There, below them, Kailani strolled at the edge of the waves, shuffling her feet and singing to herself. She’d abandoned her shoes midway on the sand.
Helena started for the stairs, but Jason stretched out an arm to block her.
“Let me,” he said.
It was late in the season, too cold for swimming, and the beach was nearly deserted. A fisherman stood hip-deep in rubber boots, reeling in his fly. Further along, halfway to the old pier, a man in a straw hat searched the sand for lost coins, a sifter in one hand and a metal sensor in the other. With his ears blocked by headphones, he hardly noticed as Jason passed.
Jason tried to approach Kailani without alarming her, but when a startled gull squawked and flew off in a hail of feathers, she turned. Their eyes met. She froze for an instant, then took off at a sprint.
He ran after her. No way could she outrun him, but when he drew too close, she turned from the beach and hopped onto the pier. He followed, and slowed when she reached the end. He did his best to tread softly, but his steps, much heavier than hers, clattered on the tar-stained boards.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, and then without hesitation leapt over the end of the pier and into the sea.
He hissed a curse and followed her in.
Cold water closed over his head. He bobbed to the surface and got his bearings. Then he saw her, two bare arms and a bolt of hair in the trough of a wave. He kicked hard and stroked, trying to reach her before she sank. She squirmed as he grabbed her, but he held on, one arm wrapped about her chest, and her head resting on his shoulder so it lifted gently with the waves.
As he paddled back to shore, he pressed his cheek to hers and whispered in her ear. “We’ll help you, Kailani. We won’t let it happen.”
She was hysterical, irrational. What could they have done to her in the Blessed Lands to drive her to such extremes?
He collapsed on the beach, grasping the girl with both arms. For now, she was safe. He lay there with the coarse sand caked onto his wet skin, trying to regain control of his breathing, as he would after a long run. As Helena rushed toward them, an odd longing came over him, different from the desire for a better job or a faster time in a road race—a more profound yearning to care about someone so much that he’d offer his life for them.
***
The drive back to the city was somber and silent—Kailani said not a word. The trip home was little better.
Jason refused to discuss what had happened, not yet, not in the car. By the time they arrived, it was almost twilight. He parked near his flat so he and Helena could walk to her house along the cliffs.
They stopped by the thunder hole, where Kailani’s boat had crashed a month before. A late September breeze pushed waves across the bay to land as surf breaking gently on the shore. Dusk approached on the tide.
Helena gazed out to sea, and he came up behind and rested a hand on her shoulder. She trembled beneath the fabric of her blouse. After too long a moment, she reached back and covered his hand with hers, and the trembling stopped. She turned and buried her face in his chest, and when he lowered his lips and let them brush the tip of her ear, the trembling returned.
A flash of orange distracted them, as a ladybug landed on Helena’s bare arm, just below the sleeve. Both of them stared, bemused as its shell sparkled in the remnant of sunlight. Jason reached out to brush it away, but Helena’s look warned him off.
She held her arm motionless. “Leave it,” she whispered. “My father always said ladybugs were good luck.” She watched as the ins
ect began its pilgrimage down her arm.
Jason waited, knowing her, knowing that the most important things took time for her to say.
She finally spoke, never taking her eyes off the bug. “He was a scientist who believed there was a solution for everything if you worked hard enough, but he’d never harm a ladybug. Once, when I caught a firefly in a jar, he made me let it go, saying it was wrong to keep it. When I cried, not wanting to release it, he promised to make it up to me. The next day, he brought a poster from a gift shop in the village, a picture of a girl releasing a firefly from a jar. Her arm was outstretched with a tiny landing spot open between her thumb and forefinger, like she expected it to return. At the bottom, it read, ‘My first firefly, but he got away.’”
The ladybug continued its journey along her arm, oblivious to the audience.
“Fireflies and ladybugs,” she said. “And a silver anklet that made stars in the waves. He didn’t believe in myths, but he thought his daughter was magic. She’d grow up to solve all the problems that had confounded him.”
She glanced up at Jason and touched his cheek with the fingertips of her free hand. “I never should’ve asked you to come to the farm. I had no right.”
He shook his head. “You were right to ask.”
She returned her attention to the ladybug and, as if sensing her focus, it froze in place.
Jason stared past her. To the east, the beacon atop the Tower of Reason flashed and fell dark. Eight seconds later its beam reappeared, paving a roadway of light on the water before vanishing again. The tower had been built ages ago as a lighthouse to guide sailors ashore. When boats were banned, some had argued it should be torn down, but the department decided it was easier to apprehend illegals on shore than after their boat had sunk on the reefs—a reasonable plan.
Jason suspected they kept it because everyone liked the way it looked. So much for reason.
Now he wondered about his own reasoning. He counted one, two, three, hoping to see what the next beam of light might reveal—another boat perhaps, a second vessel from the Blessed Lands, maybe Kailani’s family come to fetch her home.
Nothing but sea.
He tipped his head back and looked up, squinting until the stars blurred in the spangled sky, wondering if people’s souls—his mother’s, Helena’s father’s—ended up there or sunk down into the earth with their bones. The universe contracted and a sense of loss flooded over him, as though he stood again at the edge of the dirt hole, watching his mother lowered into the ground.
He shook it off and let a new and more powerful sensation overwhelm him, a sense that he and Helena were the first human beings who had ever lived, the first who had felt this way for each other, the first to discover love.
How much they’d changed in the years apart. He used to be the adventuresome one, always ready to take off on a quest. She’d been the steady one, the north pole of his compass, making the most practical choices. Now....
What Helena asked of him was foolhardy, but at this moment, he was sure of only one thing. He’d never leave her again.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“Jason—”
“My supervisor’s agreed. A feature of the encomm—the ability to work remotely—I’ll be its first test site.”
“Are you sure?”
The bug started crawling again, past her elbow and onto her forearm.
“Don’t ask,” he said. “I might change my mind.”
The ladybug reached the back of her hand. She raised it high and gave a flick of the wrist. Speckled wings sprouted from what had appeared to be a hard shell and the ladybug flew off.
As Helena watched it go, Jason placed a hand on her face and traced her cheekbone down to her chin with his thumb. She rose up on her toes and kissed him.
Then they walked arm in arm to the big house on the cliffs, their footfalls crunching softly on the gravel path.
Chapter 10 – A Most Unusual Case
Carlson hurried past the locked doors with an uncharacteristic spring in his step. In his hands he balanced a paper plate decorated with drawings of balloons and fringed noisemakers, with the words “Happy Birthday” at the bottom. On the plate was an oversized slice of vanilla cake, a corner piece with a pink-sugar flower on top. When he came to the eighth door on the right, he stopped and noticed some frosting had come off on his finger. He licked it clean, then straightened and knocked, even though the door was locked from the outside and he held the key. It was proper manners.
A forlorn voice responded. “Come in.”
The girl hunched on a corner of the bed, arms wrapped about her as if she were cold.
“I’ve brought you something, Kailani.”
“What is it?”
“A birthday cake.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“I didn’t think it was, although I wasn’t sure, since you never tell me anything about yourself. It’s the birthday of someone here in the office, and I was able to smuggle out a piece of cake for you.” He held out the plate. “It’s the best kind, a corner piece.”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh.” He had counted on a celebration, but this was not a good start. He began to take a cleansing breath but stopped himself; meditation was to calm the passions, to let reason rule. This seemed an occasion to let his passions flow.
Kailani interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Carlson?”
“Yes?”
“Is it time?”
“Oh no, not at all. Not until tomorrow. And I have some good—”
“What will it be like there, Mr. Carlson? Will I be in a room like this, with no windows and a locked door?”
Carlson smiled and felt not lightheaded but light all over—like when he’d signed the release order, flaring out the bottom of the “y” in Henry and gleefully looping the top of the “l” in Carlson.
“I have some good news for you, Kailani. The plan has changed. You’re not going there anymore.”
“Then I’ll be staying here?” Her expression brightened a bit. “Does that mean Jason and Helena can still visit?”
“There’ll be no need. You’ll be leaving tomorrow to go to a new home and—”
She looked more hopeful. “Will it have windows?”
“I’m sure it will.”
“And ocean?”
“No ocean, but there’ll be bubbling brooks and mountains and plenty of trees.”
She got off the bed and took a step toward him. “Where am I going? Please tell me.”
“To a place up north and far away.” He was grinning like a fool. “A place called Glen Eagle Farm.”
Kailani’s smile blossomed and grew. She pressed her palms together in front of her chest and bounced in place. “Will I be going with Jason and Helena?”
“Why, of course, but there’s one condition.”
The bouncing stopped. “What is it?”
“That it’s something you want to do. By regulation—according to our rules—I need to ask you. Do you want to go with them, Kailani?”
She beamed. “Oh, yes, Mr. Carlson. Yes, yes, yes.”
Then she lowered her eyes.
“What is it, Kailani?”
“I think I’ll have that piece of cake now.”
Chapter 11 – A Seedy Café
A hot wind blew across the harbor, raising whitecaps on the sea. The Minister of Commerce pulled the map from his pocket and crossed off the latest town. Soon, there’d be no towns left to search.
He paused by the waterfront and scanned the docks, listening to the rattle of rigging against masts and the sloshing of boats as they tugged against their moorings. He sniffed the air as if trying to scent a clue, but all that reached his nostrils was the stench of petrol floating in rainbows on the water, and carcasses left by the gulls.
To the right of the docks lay a boardwalk, crammed with shops built so close together, only a child could slip between them. They included a nautical supply store, a kiosk for bait and
fishing tackle, a food mart, and a seedy café of the sort frequented by sailors in their few hours ashore. It was late in the day, and though exhausted, he decided to check one last location. He’d return in the morning for the rest.
He chose the café.
He trudged across the boardwalk, trying to keep some semblance of dignity, but his leather shoes clattered awkwardly on the worn boards. At the café, he hesitated, taking in the newest smells—old cooking oil, stale sweat, and alcohol. He took a last gulp of fresh air and pushed open the door.
Only two tables were occupied, and those by fisherman too drunk to notice his presence. A man with a shaved head and a big belly stood behind the counter and nodded as he entered. The barkeep seemed unsurprised by his well-heeled appearance.
The minister stepped to the counter, too tired to be anything but direct. “I’m looking for a girl.”
The man leered. “You’ve come to the right place, Excellency.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Help might come from even the vilest of sources. “No. A specific girl. This one.” He produced the drawing and turned it toward the man.
The man stared at it. “A lovely child, but a bit young for you, if you don’t mind my saying.”
The minister snapped, darting his beefy hand across the counter and dragging the man’s face close to his own.
“Not in that way, you fool. This one has run off.” He released the barkeep, who backed away, pressing his hands together in front of his chest and making the traditional bow.
“Forgive me, Excellency. I misunderstood.”
“Well, have you seen her?”
He struggled to temper his tone. How many times had he asked this question? How many days had passed since he’d last seen the poetess? He sent messages saying he was well, but true to his word, gave no report of his progress.
She’d replied in sparse phrases: Glad you’re well, stay safe.
He worried she might not survive.
Back when he was a junior bureaucrat, his job had been to screen candidates from the Soulless Land seeking salvation. Transmigration had become less common in the generations since the signing of the treaty, and tended to be mostly one way. Few of his countrymen wanted to transmigrate now that the Supreme Leader’s reforms had taken root. A growing economy offered citizens a quality of life not much different from that across the sea.
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