by Nina Post
“That’s overstating it just a bit, don’t you think?” Mohini said.
“Hardly, and you know it.” To Cate, Benjamin said, “It’s commonly used in ceremonies and festivities.”
“I prescribe it as often as actual drugs to my patients here,” Mohini added, a grin spreading across her face.
“Think I’ll pass,” Cate said. “But you think they can get me a chinguerito?”
Mohini wrinkled her brow. “A what?”
Cate waved it off. “Doesn’t matter.” She asked the bartender for a Red Rooster Draft. Mohini gave her an approving micro-nod, then had a brief exchange with the bartender in a language Cate didn’t understand. She hoped it wasn’t the signal to kill everyone inside, but a moment later, the bartender set a glass of beer in front of Cate. Unless Mohini said, Kill them all, but before you do, bring the bitchy one the worst beer you have and tell her it’s Red Rooster.
“You should order food if you’re hungry,” Mohini said to both of them.”
Cate pulled over a small menu. “Maybe just some fried rice.” She cocked her head. “So, Mohini. Benjamin tells me you’ve lived here for ten years.”
“Yes. I came to the Marshall Islands with Dentists Without Borders. I went to all the islands, eventually settled here, and, never left. I thought, maybe next month I’ll go home, but stopped thinking that.”
Cate nodded once. “Where was home?”
“North Carolina. Born and raised in Chapel Hill. Duke undergrad, UNC dental school.”
Cate wondered if Mohini was itching to tell her the elementary and high school, too. “Is your family there?”
“Yes. But we have our differences.”
“May I tell her?” Benjamin asked, and Mohini gave a nod. “When Mohini’s father passed away, she had a bitter fight with her siblings over various material possessions. I helped her get her fair share.”
“I hope they have good lives and everything,” Mohini said with a flippant gesture, like she didn’t, not really. “But we never liked one another. And I wanted certain things that had meaning to me, which they were willing to go to any length to prevent that.”
“They sound almost as delightful as my sisters,” Cate said. Her fried rice arrived and she tore into it. “How are you going to help us?”
“I’m going to take you to Chuuk to look at the new renovations. You can approve the location then.”
“Do you know what it is we want to hide?” Cate asked.
“No, that’s not my business,” Mohini said reasonably. “Since Benjamin helped me before, I agreed to help him find a location.”
It didn’t matter if Mohini thought it was her business or not. If anyone really wanted to know the location of the Zaanics book, they would get it from her. “Did you sleep together?” Cate asked.
Mohini raised a brow.
“I’d just like to know.”
“Cate!” Benjamin glared at her.
She pushed away her mostly empty plate, deciding to press them a little. “Look. I’m taking the biggest risk here. As far as I’m concerned, Benjamin, you’re unnaturally attached to this task of yours.”
“I do contract law. I have to get my excitement somewhere.” Benjamin leaned in toward Mohini. “Did you sneak her a sakau?”
Cate slapped a palm on the bar, startling an orange cat that was lounging on the bar prep area. “Neither of you answered my question. Did you sleep together? I’m not moving forward on this until one of you tells me.”
It didn’t matter what their relationship was — she just needed to know.
“No!” Benjamin said. “We didn’t sleep together.”
“Fine,” Cate said, and finished her beer. “When’s our next flight?”
Chapter 14
Noah didn’t know what the past five years had been like for Cate. It was upsetting to him that she hadn’t been in touch, and that he couldn’t even find out where she was. But he also understood — though it wasn’t easy — that what happened could have destroyed her, and Cate was doing what she thought she had to do. He didn’t like conflict and was rarely angry, but thinking of the brutal way her father exiled Cate from the family made Noah wish he was even bigger than he was. It made him wish he were the size of Godzilla so he could just trample the Lyrs into fruit wraps.
But work was demanding his attention. Negotiations on a joint venture had collapsed between his employer and Mr. Yonechi, a top executive of a major Japanese electronics concern. After weeks of fevered attempts to schedule an in-person meeting, Mr. Yonechi finally agreed to come to San Francisco. When Mr. Yonechi arrived, Noah was tasked with taking him wherever he wanted to go, so he escorted the low-key (a welcome change) executive on the cable cars, on a haunted buildings tour, and to Fisherman’s Wharf.
Confident he had mended the fraying trust between the two parties, Noah returned to the work of decoding VZ with Cate. But when he went into the office after she left for Micronesia, he noticed a pall had settled over the team.
His boss called him into the office. “The meeting with Mr. Yonechi did not go well.”
Noah squinted at him. “What meeting?”
“The one we had yesterday.”
“You didn’t tell me there was another meeting. I thought he went back to Tokyo to mull it over and let us know.”
“It was a last-minute thing,” his boss said. “It slipped my mind to tell you.”
“You know that I like to arrange the details for a negotiation like that in advance,” Noah said. He wanted to make sure the location was a good choice for both sides and know who would be attending. He wanted to be there alongside the primary negotiator to make sure that the mutual interpretation of information was beneficial and wouldn’t lead to a misunderstanding. He also wanted to be available to quell any brush fires of misinterpretation.
But his boss went ahead and held a crucial meeting without him, and to Noah’s total lack of surprise, failed to restore trust and instead put Mr. Yonechi on the defensive. His boss even relied on a last-minute interpreter, which was dangerous without someone on the team who knew the language and the subtleties of both verbal and non-verbal expression. And Noah wasn’t just a translator — he understood the business context and knew the salient details of the negotiation.
“What do you want me to say?” his boss said. “You can sit in next time.”
Noah wondered if there would be a next time. It was a good job, but they weren’t the only game in town.
The plane touched down at Chuuk International Airport on Weno, the main island of the State of Chuuk. Cate decided she’d call the island LeChuck, after the ghost pirate — even thought was pronounced ‘choock.’ She had read on the flight from Hawaii that Chuuk was ‘mountain’ in Chuukese, and as they approached the runway, she saw it was aptly named: there was a large emerald green mountain on the right with a smaller mountain to its left. The ocean was a cobalt blue, and where it bordered the island, it was more azurite.
Benjamin had his eyes closed and his earbuds in. His hand moved slightly to whatever he was listening to, like a conductor. Mohini was reading the New York Times Magazine that someone left behind. Cate contemplated what could go wrong with using the dentist for this task. She also contemplated how long she could keep from barfing on the turbulent flights and bumpy landings that came in fast succession. Almost certain the plane was inverted, she looked out the window and the view was striking enough to make her momentarily forget her queasiness. Chuuk Lagoon was ringed with limpid aquamarine pools of water, the inside edge trimmed with a different shade of vivid blue. To the right was a strip of low-slung buildings backed by verdurous mountains and slim palm trees.
“Cate, do you speak Pohnpeian?” Mohini asked.
Cate wanted to ask Mohini if she knew VZ. Benjamin shot her a warning look like he knew what she was thinking.
“You wouldn’t,” Mohini answered. “It’s nearly impossible.”
Then why ask, Cate thought.
“But just so you know,”
Mohini continued, “each language on the islands is endemic, though there is some lexical overlap. Pohnpeian has some similarity to Chuukese, for example. Pohnpeian has really interesting possessive classes — the pronoun changes depending on what you’re referring to. And there are dozens of different ways to count.”
Just in case Cate felt like learning a language that was impossible for outsiders to learn. She turned her head away and smiled.
The topic made her think of what Jake Dumont said to Noah. Was he right? Did Noah resent her and the Lyrs? Was he just pretending to be her friend again to get something from her? Were the boxes from Mai Do stationary and Kinokuniya and New People a ploy to win her favor so he could get the books translated on his own?
No, that was nuts. She felt completely at ease with sweet, funny, towering Noah. Was she even more broken than she thought or was her gut telling her something?
“Cate?” Benjamin said.
“And the different pronouns, in some cases, have double meanings,” Mohini added.
It was completely nuts to be this suspicious, especially of someone so open, calm, and reliable. Cate covered her face with her hands. She was even more broken than she suspected, wasn’t she?
“Cate?” Benjamin said.
Hadn’t she learned her lesson enough? Beware the naturally suspicious person who has their worst suspicions confirmed.
“Ratatouille!” she swore under her breath.
“What did you say?” Benjamin asked, leaning in.
“Can’t a girl just talk to herself?” She wave her hand around. “It’s something Noah does. His curse words are French cuisine.”
“Oh. Hm.”
“You have the book, right?” she asked, almost panicking that they forgot the book.
“Of course I do.” He patted his bag.
She closed her eyes. Benjamin looked out the window.
“What do you think of Noah?” she said, turning toward him again.
He blinked with surprise and twisted his body in her direction. “Noah? I think he’s — ”
“Duplicitous?” she suggested. “Sinister?”
Benjamin chuckled. “Noah? I think he’s the opposite of those things.”
She did too, but what a perfect Trojan horse. Cate sat upright and shook her head. “God, you’re right. Why do I have to be so suspicious and paranoid all the time?”
“Where would you like me to start?” Benjamin asked quietly.
“Oh, you should talk, contracts lawyer.”
The runway didn’t look long enough for an Evel Knievel motorcycle jump, let alone a plane landing, and it was attached like an afterthought to the very edge of the island. If you veered right, you’d crash into the mountain; if you veered left, into the ocean. She knew the feeling.
The airport terminal was small, and its floor, walls, and ceiling were a gleaming white. There were some people, mostly locals, sitting in sparse rows of cerulean blue chairs.
“We have a car waiting for us,” Mohini said, and led them through the automatic doors to the thick heat of the outside. It smelled like rain. Chuukese women wearing brightly patterned dresses were sitting on the ground in front of a mural, making and selling leis. Next to each woman was a large plastic bucket full of flowers, and in front of them was a long row of completed leis. Benjamin bought two and gave one to Cate and to Mohini.
“Headbands,” Mohini said, kept hers around her wrist.
“Thank you,” Cate said to the women, and to Benjamin.
“They’re not bugged, just so you know,” Benjamin said close to her ear.
She placed hers over the crown of her head. Mohini saw a large Jeep and signaled. The driver, a barrel-chested Micronesian, greeted them with a big smile and put their bags in the back as though the bags weighed as much as feathers — until he picked up Benjamin’s. “Ugh,” he said, and heaved it into the trunk like a decathlete.
“We’re staying in a hotel for one night,” Mohini mentioned to them. “That should be enough time. In the morning, we return to Pohnpei. Honestly, I prefer Chuuk.” Mohini turned and met Cate’s eyes. “The people are more friendly here.”
The Jeep passed palm and pine trees and low buildings, most of which looked vulnerable to the next typhoon that passed through. It was slow going. “It’s usually better to walk,” the driver joked. Eventually he pulled up in front of the Truk Stop Hotel, stopped in the parking area, then jumped out. This time, when he took out their bags, he was prepared for Benjamin’s.
“Even he thinks it’s too heavy,” Cate said to Benjamin.
“Well, I’m not a monk.”
The hotel had two separate structures. Down the open passageway between the buildings, Cate saw a sign indicating the dive area. On the left was a two-floor building with a bakery and a gift shop on the first floor. Rooms were up on the second floor. The building on the right was a restaurant. “What’s the room situation?” Cate asked.
“Benjamin instructed me to reserve two standard deluxe rooms,” Mohini said. “There are two queen-sized beds in each. You can work it out between yourselves, I don’t care either way. Cate, do you want to stay with me?”
“That’s fine.”
As Cate went up to the room, she thought about how Benjamin paid for the trip, the hotel, and everything else, to go to the trouble of hiding one of the books in what seemed like one of the worst places to keep it: a humid tropical island. But he was the one in charge of guarding the books, so it was his call. The rules were laid out a long time ago and the Lyr and the Severn families had obeyed those rules for centuries. Cate wondered if her ancestors had to deal with anyone like Gaelen, or if someone like her popped up every few generations.
“We’ll meet at the restaurant for a quick breakfast in ten minutes,” Mohini said, unlocking the door to the room, which had two queen beds, a small balcony, a table and chair, and a bureau with a TV. They dropped off their bags in their respective rooms, except for Benjamin’s briefcase, headed downstairs, then crossed over the passageway and went into the other building. Cate paused to look at the clear water on the left, then followed Mohini through a roofed patio crammed with tables. To their left was a fence with a slightly raised area behind it, and then a bar with a thatched roof.
“Inside or outside?” Mohini asked. “There’s table service in the patio area, as well.”
“Inside,” they both replied.
The restaurant was attractive and clean, but suspended in 1975, with its wicker furniture and brown and orange decor. Cate looked around for macramé.
Cate and Benjamin ordered eggs with ham and English muffins, plus fruit for the table with varieties of banana they’d never seen. Mohini ordered banana pancakes. They were all hungry, so they focused on eating, and Benjamin paid the bill quickly.
“Do you mind if I stop by the gift shop?” Benjamin asked.
“Are we waiting for the driver?” Cate asked.
“No, he left the Jeep here for us to use,” Mohini said. “Go ahead.”
Benjamin went into the gift shop and Cate stopped in the bakery next to it. The bakery was redolent of fresh-baked bread, and displayed stacks of loaves. Cate bought one and tore off a piece, then wrapped the rest in napkins and put it in her bag. Noah asked her for a souvenir, and even if he was joking, she stopped in the gift shop and bought a carved-wood octopus.
Then they were back in the Jeep, with Mohini in the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going?” Cate asked. She always wanted to know as much as possible about where she was, where she was going, how long it would take, what the plan was — anything that would give her a timeline and context. When she was little, she had a lot of anxiety about the future, to the point where it was probably a disorder, but learned to work with it or around it.
They were heading east, was all she knew.
“You’re worried,” Benjamin murmured in her ear.
“So?”
He smiled.
“We can’t all be like you,” she said.
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br /> “A handsome renaissance man?”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Mohini glanced in the rear-view mirror. “The old Japanese Command Center in Sapuk Village. It’s Xavier High School now.”
“That doesn’t really tell me anything,” Cate muttered, looking out the window. “Wait. STOP.” She twisted around to look out the window.
Mohini glanced at her. “What is it?”
“Just pull over. Please.”
“Do you have to throw up? You have such a sensitive stomach.”
“No, I don’t have to throw up, but thanks for your concern.”
Mohini slowed and pulled into a church parking lot. Cate stared at a tidy little house on the other side of the street.
“Could you turn around?”
Mohini got back onto the street and went the other way.
“There, pull in there,” Cate said. Nestled alone in a thick semi-circle of palm trees, overlooking the lagoon, was a compact white house with a sign that read Mort’s Provisions. There wasn’t much of a chance, but she had to find out for sure. If she didn’t, it would keep her awake at night.
“Cate, what are you doing?” Benjamin asked.
“Just wait for me a minute.” She scrambled out of the car and ran across the front yard toward the house, stopping short when she noticed a gravestone just off to the side of the property. “Huh,” she said, then opened the front door without knocking. It looked like a business, after all. Inside, she took a cursory look at a small reception area with a loveseat, a chair, and a table covered in magazines. She hurried through it into a small office to the right, which contained a big tropical wood desk, a shelf full of binders and papers, a big plant in the corner, a framed vintage Mercator’s projection on the wall … and Mort Nash, sitting at a desk, writing.
He looked up over his glasses at the intrusion. He blinked, as though he was hallucinating — maybe he had some sakau with breakfast — then his face brightened and he pushed off his chair slowly, like he couldn’t believe it. “Cate Lyr?”
“Morty Nash.”
