Beside a Burning Sea

by John Shors

  “You’re talking about reincarnation?”

  “Yes. Or rebirth. We believe that once someone experiences enough rebirths, and once they release their . . . attachment to desire, to themselves, that they will go to Nirvana.”

  “And Nirvana is like heaven?”

  “Yes, in a way.”

  Annie rinsed his coconut husk in the water and handed it back to him. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I should have asked if I could borrow it. You’d never take anything from me like that.”

  He handed her back the husk. “I am glad that you do not feel the need to ask.”

  “What else do Buddhists believe?”

  “You truly want to know? I would not want to bore you.”

  “I do.”

  Akira smiled and said, “Buddha’s four noble truths are quite simple. One, suffering exists. Two, a cause for suffering exists. Three, an end to suffering exists. Four, only by accepting suffering, by releasing desire, can one end suffering and ultimately reach Nirvana.”

  Annie pondered his words as she watched fish swim about their rock. “Can you . . . do that? Accept suffering and . . . and release desire?”

  “No, I cannot. I still have desires, and I would rather not suffer.”

  “So you’re not anywhere near Nirvana, are you?”

  He grinned. “I am not near Nirvana. Although with the water on my feet, the sun on my back, and . . . and with my wonderful nurse beside me, this is a good day. Yes?”

  Nodding, she replied, “A good day.”

  Akira noticed Nathan emerge from the distant jungle. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he headed toward camp. “I like him,” Akira said. “A simple man. But simple men are fine men.”

  “He misses his family so much. He must constantly think about his wife, because he’s called me by her name more than once.”

  “I hope he gets home to her soon.”

  Annie’s gaze followed a manta ray that glided over the sand below. “May I ask you something, Akira? Something personal?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you have a wife? Children?”

  He turned to her. “In Japan, the oldest son takes care of his parents. When my father died, maybe seven years ago, I moved into his house. I have lived with my mother ever since.”

  “And you’ve never met someone?”

  “No. I was a teacher, so I only met young people. And I had to take care of my mother.”

  “And you’re alright with that?”

  He shrugged. “I have no choice. It is my duty and . . . and my honor.”

  Annie shifted atop the rock. She watched as he gently stirred his feet in the water. Something in the way he moved intrigued her. It was almost as if he took great pleasure from the feel of the sea against his skin.

  “Now may I ask something of you?” he questioned, the movement of his feet pausing slightly.

  “If you’re brave.”

  “I am being brave right now, I think.”

  “Well, then, ask away.”

  “What of your fiancé? He makes you happy, yes?”

  Annie started to reply but stopped. She’d asked herself that same question a thousand times and was still unsure how to answer it. “Ted makes everyone happy,” she finally said, wondering why it was so easy to share her thoughts with Akira. “And for a while, that made me happy. But now . . . now sometimes I think that I’d rather be with someone who only made me happy.”

  “Does—”

  “I know that makes me sound terribly selfish, and I’m sorry for that. But it’s true. I’d rather have him be more concerned about me than everyone else.”

  Akira looked at her feet beneath the water, noting how small and slender her toes were. He experienced a sudden impulse to touch those toes, to see if they were as supple as he imagined. He also wanted to tell her that she deserved all of her fiancé’s attention, that the man didn’t understand the gift that had been bestowed upon him. He wanted to tell her so many things. Instead he asked, “May I share a story with you?”

  “By all means.”

  “I am sorry?”

  “Yes, yes. Please tell me.”

  Akira looked from her toes toward the horizon. “In Japan, beautiful gardens have existed for several thousand years. These gardens are full of stones, of ponds, of red maple trees. In the springtime, cherry blossoms cover the ground, and moss turns a deeper shade of green.”

  “How wonderful.”

  “Yes, very much so,” he said, wishing she could see such sights. “As a young man, I used to often visit a garden near my father’s house. There the same tree had shed cherry blossoms since the time of the shoguns. I would sit beneath this tree and write poems. And when words escaped me, I would watch the gardener. After many months, I noticed that he spent most of his time attending to a single bonsai tree. It stood on a small island within his pond, and each day he would cross a stone bridge and inspect this tree with great care. He would remove a leaf or twig or insect from it. He would brush it with a damp cloth. For many weeks, I did not understand why this man spent so much time on this one miniature tree when so much other beauty existed around him.”

  Annie leaned closer to Akira. “Why did he?”

  “Because, I think . . . I think he understood that life is precious and lovely and fleeting. And I think that this bonsai tree, with its imperfections and frailty, reminded him of these things, reminded him of the good in the world. And because of that . . . I think because of that he loved the bonsai tree. He loved it because it inspired him.”

  Annie noticed that his feet had stopped moving. “Why, Akira, why are you telling me this?” she quietly asked.

  He sighed. “Because precious things are sometimes . . . overlooked. But such things should be cherished. Poems should be written about them and they should not be forgotten. And . . . and . . .”

  “And what?”

  “And though I know so little of the love between a man and a woman, it seems to me that it should be like the love between that man and his miniature tree.”

  “And you think . . . you think that’s the kind of love I should have?”

  He paused to consider his response. “I think you deserve such a gardener,” he finally replied. “And I do not think you are selfish for wanting one.”

  She smiled, and beneath the water her foot touched his.

  DAY EIGHT

  She came from the sea

  Like a pearl forged from the deep.

  Light melts an old snow.

  Confronting the Past and Present

  It’s almost as big as a house,” Joshua said excitedly, addressing the group. The nine survivors of Benevolence had gathered on the beach near the banyan tree to talk about his discovery. For the first time since they’d been on the island, he looked people in the eye and tried to truly lead. Though he still didn’t feel as comfortable in this position as he once had, he didn’t have to force himself to speak either. “And it’s got more fresh water than we’ll ever need,” he added.

  “How do you know the little monkeys won’t find it?” Roger asked, though he realized it must be well hidden, since he hadn’t discovered it.

  “If the Japs come,” Joshua answered, “they’ll land in the harbor. Their base will be right where we’re standing. They’re not going to waste much manpower on the other parts of the island. And the cave is almost impossible to notice from the sea. Even from the beach it’s awfully tough to spot. And if we camouflage the entrance, no one will ever know it’s there.”

  “What about food, Captain?” Jake asked. “Fishing this harbor is easier than shucking corn. It ain’t gonna be good to leave them fish.”

  Joshua nodded. “You and Ratu can spend a few more days fishing here. Catch as much as you can. Dry the meat in the sun and we’ll bring it to the cave. That way we’ll have extra food in case . . . the fishing over there isn’t like shucking corn.” As if a teacher in the classroom, Joshua studied the faces before him, trying to discern where thoughts lay. Is
abelle followed his every word. Annie was with him one moment and gone the next. “We should leave in a few days,” he continued. “That will give us enough time to collect food, erase any trace of our presence here, and row the lifeboat to the other side of the island.”

  “Can I ride in the boat, my captain?” Ratu asked. “I can help you row.”

  Smiling, Joshua replied, “Of course. You can lead us to the other shore.”

  “And, sir, the dried fish and the other supplies, they’ll go in the boat?” Nathan wondered.

  “Exactly. We’ll transport most everything in the boat. Much easier to get it to the cave that way than lugging it through the jungle.”

  Jake put a fresh blade of grass in his mouth, savoring the faint taste of mint. “The goose sure honks high, don’t he, Captain?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Oh, that’s just something my daddy used to say. It means that everything’s rattling right.”

  Joshua repeated the line and grinned. “Let’s make this simple,” he said. “Simple for everyone over the next few days. Jake and Ratu, kindly catch as many fish as you can and dry the meat. Cut it as thin as possible. Nathan, you’re in charge of getting the lifeboat ready. Our lovely nurses can erase our existence from this spot, erase it so well that the Japs will never know we were here.” Joshua turned to Roger. “Could you continue to scout the island? Two caves would be better than one. And, Akira, I’d like you to walk the beach, to look for things that washed ashore from Benevolence. If any new arrivals find items from our ship, they may wonder if survivors made it here too.”

  Roger twisted his spear butt deeper into the sand, hating the way that the captain was once again in control. “You trust the Nip?”

  “Obviously, I do.”

  “But he’ll leave some sort of message. He’ll scratch a message on a rock and tell his fellow Japs all about your great cave.”

  Joshua glanced at Akira, who was standing like everyone else, no longer favoring his wounded leg. “And risk getting himself hung by us?” Joshua asked. “Besides, he’s earned my trust. He’s earned it several times over. And so he’ll walk the beach.”

  “If I had such a pretty wife, I wouldn’t be so quick to trust the monkey. He sure hasn’t earned my trust. He—”

  Waving Roger to silence, Joshua said, “Someday, Lieutenant, when you’re in charge, you can give the orders. Understand?”

  Roger spat and walked back toward the banyan tree. Though frustrated by Roger’s increasing and almost intolerable insubordination, Joshua’s spirits were buoyed enough by the discovery of the cave that he quickly turned back to the group. “Please, if anyone has ideas about the cave, let me know. Let’s talk them through.”

  “Are there bugs?” Scarlet asked. “I’ve had my fill of bugs already.”

  Joshua held up his arms. “See? Not a single new bite. So you won’t have to worry about any more bugs.”

  “Then let’s get to that cave,” she replied melodramatically.

  As several people laughed and the group dispersed, Joshua stepped toward Isabelle, wanting her to be the first to see his discovery.

  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 Japanese 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 passed 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 passed. “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 Japanese 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 shell 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.”

  “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 noble. 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.”