Beside a Burning Sea

by John Shors

  “You are?”

  “I think it’s my biggest fear.”

  “Well, I think most people fear getting old. I wouldn’t worry about worrying.”

  “I’m trying, Isabelle, to tell you how I feel.”

  “Oh,” she said, smiling. “I wasn’t sure where you were headed. By all means, please go on.”

  “Patience isn’t your strong suit, you know.”

  “What can I say? I like to get to the end of the story as quickly as possible. Why waste time trying to figure everything out?”

  He shook his head in pretend exasperation. “Well, despite your lack of patience, knowing that you’ll be with me makes the fear subside. Because with you at my side, I don’t feel alone. And if I end up like my father, prematurely old and run-down, I’ll still have you. And I won’t really need much more.”

  She took his hand. “I won’t ever let you get run-down,” she said, grinning. “I’ve too much invested in you.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Good.”

  “And do you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m glad I asked you to dance, my gallant naval captain.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “And even though we were terrible dancers . . . the worst on the floor . . . it was still the best dance of my life.”

  “We’ve gotten better.”

  She started to slip, but he pulled her up. “You’re right about Benevolence ,” she said. “No good will come of her sinking. But at least we’ve been brought back together.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his forehead, just as he had hers. “At least I have you once again. And believe me, I’m not going to let you go.”

  They embraced briefly and began to climb again. Though the sun was still hidden and a breeze tugged at them, they each felt warm and were momentarily untroubled—a combination that both had rarely experienced for many months.

  “HOW DO YOU find them so darn easily?” Jake asked, eyeing the beautiful shell that Ratu had discovered in a few inches of water.

  “I just look, Big Jake,” Ratu replied. “Do you have sand in your eyes? Can’t you see?”

  “Everything I find needs fixing.”

  “Well, you have to look for unbroken ones. I tell you, you don’t have to be a bloody genius to know that.”

  Jake splashed a handful of water at Ratu. “Show me a genius, and I’ll show you a fool.”

  “What?”

  “And didn’t that daddy of yours tell you to respect your elders?”

  “Almost everyone is my elder, Big Jake. I don’t want to respect some silly bloke who couldn’t walk and talk at the same time just because he’s older than me.”

  “As I said before, I reckon not everyone likes to talk as much as you. If everyone liked to talk as much as you, the—”

  “World would be a bloody interesting place.”

  Jake smiled, sifting through the sand. Suddenly wondering how their catch was drying, he turned to look at their rack, which was full of thin slices of fish and shark. Though he was too far away to discern much, the slices were definitely darkening, and several flapped in the wind. “It’s about time,” he said.

  “Are you mumbling to yourself again?” Ratu asked, wiping sand from another small treasure. “I tell you, you’d better stop that habit or one of those pretty nurses will lock you up.”

  “I reckon that ain’t a bad fate.”

  “What? Being locked up, or the pretty nurse part?”

  “What do you think?”

  “What is the bloody big deal about women? I don’t understand it, Big Jake. Why do men act like children when pretty women are about?”

  “Someday you’ll understand. That is, if you can find someone who’s deaf or odd enough to have a hankering for the sound of your voice.”

  Ratu splashed Jake. “Oh, put a sock in it, Big Jake. Why don’t you find some shells instead of teaching me about women? I don’t see any pretty women around you, by the way.”

  “They’re all holding tight in Missouri. Ain’t going nowhere until I get back.”

  “Waiting for you? Ha! They’d better bloody well find something else to do.”

  Jake chuckled, glad to finally be done with all of the fishing. His muscles ached, and the simple process of searching for shells was much more enjoyable than he’d have thought. It reminded him of being a child and looking for arrowheads while he helped till the farm. He’d found dozens and had filled his mother’s canning jars with them. Where are them jars? he wondered, thinking he’d ship some arrowheads to Ratu.

  Jake glanced at Ratu’s necklace. Tying the shark’s biggest tooth to a thin strip of leather cut from Jake’s belt had been far from easy. But they’d managed the task, and Ratu hadn’t taken off the necklace since he looped it over his head. Jake knew that Ratu was eager to give the necklace to his father, just as he was excited to find shells for his sisters and a stone of some sort for his mother.

  “Tell me about them sisters,” Jake said.

  “See, there you go again.”

  “What?”

  “You complain that I do too much talking, and then as soon as I stop you ask me a question. I tell you, Big Jake, I can’t bloody well answer questions without talking.”

  “Well, now, ain’t you got a point for a change?”

  “You think I talk a lot? You should meet my sisters. Maybe someday you will. Anyway, they’re always asking me to pretend to be a husband, a father, a doctor, or some bloke who they’re in love with. They make necklaces out of sugarcane and ask that I put them around their necks. They do a lot of silly things like that.”

  Coming from a big family himself, Jake understood. “It sounds real nice,” he said, avoiding a sea urchin as he continued to look for shells.

  Ratu absently fingered his necklace. “It is nice, Big Jake. Cracking good, really. At night . . . at night we all sleep on the floor of our hut together. My mother and father are on one side, with my five sisters and me on the other. On some nights my father tells us stories. But if he’s out drinking kava or something, then I tell the stories. Each night I tell a tale about our family, like we’re on some great adventure. And each night one of my sisters is the hero. They all take turns being the hero, and if I don’t make them do enough wonderful things, they ask for more.”

  Jake handed Ratu a spiral shell that had been cut in half. “This one sure is pretty.”

  “Oh yes. Brilliant. My baby sister, Bari, will fancy that. She likes to look inside things. Thanks, mate.”

  A gust of wind ruffled the surface of the harbor. Jake, who had spent so much of his life outside, knew that a storm was approaching. “Let’s gather a few more shells, Ratu, and then wrap up all them fish. I expect we’re gonna get wetter than muskrats tonight.”

  “Sure, sure. But first we must find a shell for Kesea. She’s my oldest sister, and she’s seen most everything.”

  Jake started to search the sea again, musing over how much he enjoyed Ratu’s company. For a moment, Jake was jealous of Ratu’s father. How wonderful it would be to have a son like Ratu, to be able to teach such a son what was worth teaching. Thinking of fatherhood, Jake couldn’t help but wonder what kind of son he’d been. Mostly he’d done as was asked, though he hadn’t stayed on the farm like his brothers, but had looked for a way to get into the war—a war that sometimes felt as if it had nothing to do with his people. Jake could still remember his mother asking him why he was going off to fight in a white man’s war. He’d thought about his answer for the rest of the day, finally telling her that it was a war for freedom and that any such war was his war as well. She’d stopped peeling potatoes, nodded slowly to him, and never mentioned the subject again.

  The wind continued to tug at the sea, and Jake wished that his parents could witness such a sight, if only for a moment. Neither had been outside Missouri, and he felt it unfair that they didn’t even know such a world existed. Thinking that perhaps his mother would also enjoy a shell, Jake started to
scan the sand with her in mind. He’d give her a pretty shell after the war was won, and she’d nod to him once again. And she’d understand what the shell meant and why he’d brought it all that way for her.

  DUSK DID NOT ARRIVE that night with glowing colors. The gray sky merely got darker. As it became an infinite shadow, Akira labored deep in the jungle. His work focused on an area surrounding a small body of water that at one point had been connected to a nearby stream. The pool was roughly the size of a jeep and was several feet deep. Rising above it stood some of the most beautiful trees on the island. The trunks that ascended for seventy or eighty feet had no bark, but instead what seemed to be a pale, green skin. The leaves were broad and numerous and formed a thick ceiling.

  Dragging old limbs from the nearby underbrush, Akira created a series of woodpiles that formed a large circle around the pool of water. He then carefully positioned fist-sized rocks within the piles. He created haikus as he worked, thinking of ways to describe the jungle, the trees, the noises around him. The words came easily, much to his surprise, for he was nervous about the evening.

  Akira started to spread out small treasures that he’d collected earlier in the day. He outlined a path to the pool with sand dollars, and hung golden and lime and violet orchids from nearby branches. Orchids were plentiful in certain parts of the island, and he’d worked carefully to select ten of the most beautiful flowers that he could find.

  As if whatever was within the circle was a part of his home, Akira methodically cleaned its interior. Any stray leaf or twig was carried beyond the circle. Any sharp rock was also removed. Using a branch dipped in the stream, he sprinkled water over the area, further purifying it. He tossed the branch far into the jungle and then slowly reexamined everything. Finally content, he began the walk to camp.

  With the limited visibility brought by the approaching storm, there was no chance of detection from a plane or ship, and people were eating a fresh batch of fish around a fire they’d made near the sea. Annie was at the old fire pit, pretending to organize her medical supplies. Akira wordlessly emerged from the jungle, took a burning branch from the fire, and led her away from the sea. They didn’t speak as they walked within the light cast by the torch. Each was anxious. Akira wasn’t sure if what he’d prepared would be to her liking. Annie wondered why she was taking these steps and if she should stop and turn around. She thought of Ted, thought of how he loved her in his own way, and even though it wasn’t a way of her choosing, she hesitated betraying him.

  Deep within the jungle, they came upon the circle of woodpiles, and, entering it, Akira motioned for her to sit atop a smooth rock by the water. He then took his torch and began to light each of the piles. One by one the piles burned, and with the addition of each gathering of wood, the halo of light strengthened. Before long the collective light was strong enough to illuminate the trees and the flowers. Each tree seemed to come alive, its trunk painted gold by the fires. The orchids’ shadows were almost as beautiful as the flowers themselves.

  The fires grew, and soon Akira and Annie were sitting within a ring of flames. He’d placed the wood carefully, and the fire wasn’t in danger of spreading. It swayed and moved as if it had always been a part of the jungle, as if it were no more perilous than the trees above.

  Annie turned to him, taking his hands in her own. “It’s perfect,” she said, the beauty of what he’d created compelling her to touch him.

  “Just wait,” he replied softly. “Kindly sit and wait.”

  She nodded, gently moving her thumb against the back of his hand. Though only a small part of her touched a small part of him, Akira had never felt anything as intimate. It seemed as if all of her embraced all of him. Her touch, warm and light, echoed throughout his entire body. His skin tingled. His heartbeat quickened and suddenly felt too powerful for his chest. He edged closer to her so that their knees touched.

  The treetops swayed in the wind that managed to penetrate the jungle. The flames twisted and consumed. Otherwise the night was still. Annie continued to move her thumb against the back of his hand. She’d never touched a man in such a way and found the firmness of his flesh comforting and alluring.

  “It is almost ready,” he whispered, longing to return her touch, but also wanting to move slowly.

  “What’s almost ready?”

  “Your surprise.”

  Her thumb paused for a moment. “This isn’t it?”

  “Not all of it. Just ten more minutes, yes?”

  Annie nodded and watched the flames around her. She guessed that he’d created the fires in part to keep the bugs away, but the way he studied them made her think that they also played another role. He looked from fire to fire, sometimes squinting to see better.

  “What,” he asked, “do you think the trees look like?”

  She sensed the nervousness in his voice, which endeared him more to her. She gazed upward, wondering how she could describe the slender golden trunks and the thick canopies of leaves. “It’s like they’re dancing above us,” she said. “As if . . . as if they’re a part of some ancient play that we’ll never understand.”

  “Ah, I like that,” he replied. “Especially the second half.”

  “I want to remember what they look like, so that someday I can paint them.”

  “Then you must close your eyes and try to see them again.”

  Annie briefly did as he suggested, though she had a hard time concentrating on what the trees looked like while her flesh pressed against his. Acknowledging her touch with a slight nod and smile, Akira gently removed his hands from hers. He picked up a long bamboo pole that he’d leaned against a tree earlier. Placing the pole into the innards of the first fire he’d lit, he jostled the burning logs around, looking for embers. “This fire is hot,” he said, mostly to himself. “Wonderfully hot.”

  Akira used the pole to push a mango-shaped stone from the fire. The stone, which had been painted black by smoke and flames, steamed as it rolled over the damp earth. He continued to push it with the pole until he sent it dropping with a hiss into the pool of water. Moving back to the same fire, he repeated the process a second and third and fourth time. He then walked to the next fire and again proceeded to move searing stones into the water. After moving about thirty stones, he felt the water with his fingers, and smiled. “Almost. You can wait another few minutes, yes?”

  Mesmerized by the sight of him working with the long pole amid the fires, Annie nodded but didn’t speak. Akira returned his attention to the stones, moving them with great care and patience, smiling as they hissed when entering the water. He checked the temperature again and set his pole down. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “For . . . for a bath?”

  Taking care to move slowly, Akira knelt at the edge of the pool and removed a thick cloth from his pocket. He tied the cloth around his head so that he couldn’t see. “In ancient Japan,” he said, “the best masseuses were the blind masseuses. People would travel great distances to see a blind masseuse.”

  Annie felt her heart quicken. Though she wanted him, though she needed him, a part of her was afraid to move. Again she thought of Ted, wishing that he made her feel the way Akira did, wishing that she had the strength to control her longing. “Why . . . why were the blind so good?” she finally asked, her voice sounding unfamiliar to her.

  “Because a blind masseuse proceeds by touch alone,” he replied, trying to suppress his mounting anxiety. “A blind masseuse could do many things that someone with sight could not.”

  She didn’t reply, but instead watched him. He continued to kneel with his back straight and his hands by his sides. Perched upon a nearby tree, a violet orchid fluttered gently in the wind. She realized that he’d placed the flowers so that each petal faced her. Even the patterns on the sand dollars seemed to be aligned in her direction. The thought that he’d taken such care to present her with as much beauty as possible warmed her. Better yet, he hadn’t called any attention to what he’d done. He’d simply done it,
knowing that she would notice.

  “It’s all . . . so beautiful,” she said, yearning to touch him but remaining still. “It’s almost like . . . you created a poem. A poem just for me.”

  “Do you . . . remember the gardener?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have also been inspired. Like never before.”

  No longer able to remain motionless, Annie slowly undressed, setting her clothes aside. Soon she was standing in her undergarments. Standing not free of guilt, but of indecision. Nervous and excited and trembling with emotion, she removed the last impediments to her flesh. She walked to the edge of the pool. Dipping her foot within it, she was surprised by the wonderful heat of the water. Carefully, she stepped into the pool, sighing in pleasure as the water rose to her thighs, then belly, then chest.

  Akira reached to his left and handed her a smooth plank of wood, which he’d found on the beach. “Here,” he said, holding it out for her, “please sit on this.”

  Annie took the plank and slid it beneath her. She then moved to the edge of the pool, so that she was as close to him as possible. The water was almost up to her neck, and again she sighed as the heat penetrated her muscles and bones. She’d never been in such a large bath, and she reached out into the water and stretched her arms. Taking a long and deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore her racing mind.

  Still blindfolded, Akira gently touched the top of her head. He let his hands remain motionless for a moment, as if they needed to become acquainted with her skin. He moved his fingertips in small circles atop her scalp. He concentrated as he worked, not knowing how she liked to be touched. Soon he let his fingers go flat against her, using his palms to move and stroke her scalp. He gently pulled on her hair, and she groaned in pleasure at this unfamiliar sensation.

  His fingers slowly descended, and he traced the contours of her ears, tugging tenderly on her earlobes. He then started to rub her neck, his hands caressing her flesh—as if it were the last time that he’d ever touch a woman and he wanted to commit the sensation to memory. He sought out her muscles and worked on them carefully—compressing and releasing, twisting and straightening. Annie gradually leaned back into him, for she wanted to feel more of his touch. He obliged her by moving so close to the pool that she could rest her head against his knees.