The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky

by David Litwack

  He slid his hand closer, fingers beckoning. “Come with me, Helena. Take a chance.”

  He followed her hand as it joined the other, unclasping the hair clip and resetting it, this time flawlessly, and fluffing the hair in front so it framed her face.

  “Okay,” she finally said, then reached back and rested her hand on his.

  Chapter 4 – A Different Promise

  The next afternoon, a matron in a blue uniform led them down a corridor that smelled worse than the reception area, a mix of sweat and cleaning fluid. Helena tried to concentrate, matching her steps to the squeaks of the matron’s rubber-soled shoes. Please don’t let this be where they’re keeping her. When the matron pulled a jangling ring of keys from her pocket, Helena’s shoulders slumped. She glanced at Jason. The color had drained from his face, and he walked stiffly with his arms tight to his sides. They passed seven evenly spaced doors, all with reinforced metal at their edges.

  At the eighth door on the right, the matron slipped a key into the lock and released it. The door swung open.

  “Five minutes,” she said, and began to close the door behind them.

  Jason thrust a foot out to block it. “Only five minutes?”

  The matron glared at his shoe until he removed it. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t make the rules.”

  The door slammed shut, followed by a click as the bolt snapped back into place. Helena felt her lungs constrict.

  The sterile room contained nothing but the basics: a bed, a desk lit by a gooseneck lamp, a straight-backed wooden chair, and a small bureau with two drawers. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead, and like Carlson’s office, there were no windows.

  Kailani lay on her side atop the narrow cot, knees curled up to her chest, facing the yellow cinder block wall. She wore an orange prison uniform several sizes too big. Though Helena was certain she’d heard them enter—a shudder of the shoulders gave her away—she kept staring at the wall.

  Jason spoke first. “Kailani?”

  She hugged her knees tighter and refused to answer.

  Helena tried next. “It’s Jason and Helena, the ones who brought you ashore when your boat crashed.”

  The child stirred and turned toward them. Her face was like a flower that had bloomed a few days earlier and now, denied the sunlight, had begun to wilt. Yet when she recognized the visitors, she brightened. She swung her feet to the floor, stood up, and took a step toward them.

  “Why are they keeping me here?” she said. “Is this my punishment?”

  “Not at all,” Helena said. “Why should you be punished?”

  An odd look came over her, as if she could see things far away—a prophet preparing to prophesy—but she said nothing.

  Jason squatted down to make his height less imposing. “Kailani, remember the drink I gave you?”

  She nodded.

  “I could bring more if you’d like.”

  “And sweets too,” Helena said, “the next time we visit.”

  Kailani’s eyes narrowed. The faraway look was gone. “Does that mean...?”

  Jason touched her shoulder. “Go ahead, Kailani. Ask. We’re here to help.”

  She stared at him, and then turned to Helena, who could feel the question coming like a cold wind.

  “Does that mean I have to stay here? I can hardly breathe in here—no air, no light. It’s like a tomb.”

  “Kailani, listen to me,” Jason said. “No one wants to hurt you. It’s just that they haven’t figured out what to do with you yet. I promise we’ll....”

  Helena could see him struggling between what promise he should make and what he’d be able to deliver.

  “We’ll talk to Mr. Carlson,” she said, “and get him to change things.” She waved her arms to encompass the dingy room. “Something nicer.”

  “Will I be able to see the ocean?”

  “I don’t think so. We’re far from the ocean.”

  “Or water?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Helena’s next words burst out before she had time to appreciate what they meant. “We’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

  The girl came closer and waited for Helena to kneel alongside Jason, then draped an arm around each of their necks. Her little hands clutched them for a long time.

  The knock on the door seemed to shake the room. Before the matron could enter, Kailani stepped back, leaving the two of them kneeling before her.

  “You saved me from the sea, Jason and Helena. Now, with the grace of Kanakunai, you’ll save me from this windowless room.”

  It was more pronouncement than request.

  She reached for Helena’s hand and placed it over her own heart. “Promise you’ll come back and take me away from here.”

  The door opened and the matron entered, signaling it was time to leave.

  Jason stood and backed away slowly, trying to buy a few more seconds.

  Helena followed, never taking her eyes off Kailani. She swallowed hard—she wasn’t good at keeping promises. “I promise.”

  The door closed between them, lodging in its frame with a thud.

  ***

  Carlson was on a secure call with the district commander when the door swung open. His assistant bustled into his office with a yellow note card in hand, the agreed procedure when she needed to interrupt. He glanced at the card: Helena Brewster and Jason Adams were waiting outside, demanding to see him.

  He placed a hand over his communicator and raised an index finger. “A minute, please.”

  He ended the call with the requisite courtesy, and gestured for his assistant to escort the couple in.

  The two young people approached his desk and waited for him to acknowledge their presence. He made a point of reshuffling the papers in a file—a means of establishing his authority.

  “What may I do for you?” he finally said.

  Helena Brewster seemed about to lose control. “How could you treat her like this? She’s done nothing wrong.”

  “I understand—in fact, share—your concern, but your statement is not reasonable. The first job of the department is to protect our citizens, yet we bend over backwards to welcome refugees. She could’ve filed an application for transmigration. Even if she were fleeing from the zealots, the land bridge would have been a better choice than the sea. She chose neither option, breaching our borders by boat instead. Whether she is nine or ninety, she entered our country clandestinely. That is against the law.”

  “But—”

  “Now, please have a seat and let’s discuss this in a reasonable manner.”

  Helena remained standing, gripping the back of a visitor chair so tightly, her knuckles whitened.

  Carlson cast a pleading look at Jason, who managed to convince her to sit. Then he settled into a chair beside her.

  “There, that’s better,” Carlson said. “I assure you, we all want to help Kailani, but the department has procedures that smart, well-meaning people have prescribed in detail over many years. I’m bound to work within them, and with all respect, so are you.”

  Helena’s white-knuckle grip had shifted from the back of the chair to its arms, but when she spoke, her tone had softened. “She’s just a child.”

  “I know. This is a most unusual case, but the department offers me only three options: deport, assimilate or incarcerate. I can’t send her back since she won’t tell me anything about herself. I won’t toss her out onto the streets. Beyond being too young to fend for herself, she’s shown no inclination to assimilate. It’s obvious she’s an unlikely criminal. Thus, all I can do is shelter her until... we figure out what to do.”

  Helena took a deep breath. “And how long will that take?”

  “I’m in the process of researching it. It may take months before her case gets on the docket at the land bridge. Even then... let’s just say the zealots aren’t good at sharing information.”

  “If there’s no information,” Jason said, “then what?”

  Carlson held out his hands. “Eventually, she’l
l go before a tribunal, and they’ll decide what to do with her. I’d prefer to delay that as long as possible, give her more time to learn our ways. You’ve heard the way she talks. Every time she opens her mouth, she breaks our laws. I shudder to think what a tribunal would do.”

  “Aren’t you being overly harsh, Mr. Carlson?”

  “Overly harsh? Those of your generation are too young to remember. You complain we’re too secretive, too invasive, but after the war ended, when zealots flocked to our shores and innocents began to die, people screamed for us to take harsher measures. You may not like our ways, but for thirty years, they’ve kept our shores safe from attack. Here at the department, the Republic’s security is our highest priority, well beyond the understandable concern for a single zealot child.”

  Helena slid to the edge of her seat and glared at him. “So that’s it, Mr. Carlson, the response of the rational world? Let her rot in that cell?”

  It would be irrational to respond in kind. He pulled a handkerchief out from his pocket and dabbed his brow, just as he’d done the day Miriam abandoned him, after they’d shared bitter words.

  “I know you see me as a cold-hearted bureaucrat,” he said, “but I’m not unfeeling. I have a daughter of my own. It’s just that the system leaves me no alternative.”

  They didn’t know him. He cared about people and worked hard to mitigate the harm his bureaucracy could cause. He still loved his daughter, even though she’d locked him out of her life for the past six months since Miriam left, locked him out as if her mother’s leaving was his fault.

  He was breathing harder than the situation warranted, and took a cleansing breath, letting it slowly in and out. Then again and again. Meditation is not a religious ritual. It’s a calming practice to clear one’s mind of unreasonable thoughts.

  He waited as Helena’s face cycled through anger, confusion, and resignation. She released her grip on the arms of the chair and slumped back.

  Jason didn’t give up so easily. “You said you’re sympathetic, Mr. Carlson. Isn’t there anything we can do in the meantime?”

  Carlson stared at his guests—two intense young people. Like all young people, they believed every problem in the world revolved around them. They thought badly of him, but he knew better.

  He picked up a pencil and scanned the desk as if searching for a form that would solve the problem. He tapped the eraser on the desktop, and looked past his guests to the portraits of his father and grandfather. He thought of Miriam, racing out the door with a half-packed suitcase in hand. He envisioned his daughter when she was nine.

  Then it came to him. What about a furlough?

  Filing for a furlough would certainly trigger the attention of the tribunal, but what if he granted one off the record? It would be a serious breach of protocol, but not a violation of rules. He’d have to shred all paperwork, so the security officer wouldn’t discover what he’d done in the monthly audit. The last thing he needed this close to retirement was a black mark on his record.

  “I might be able to arrange a furlough,” he said, “a day you can take her out for an excursion. I wish I had a better option, but that’s the best I can do.”

  “When?” The two spoke at the same time.

  “Let’s see.” He pulled the calendar on his desk toward him. “She’s due for a health check tomorrow. How about Friday?”

  Both nodded.

  Jason stood and extended a hand. “Thank you, Mr. Carlson. We’ll be back for her on Friday.”

  Chapter 5 – The Nature of the Spirit

  Helena awoke on Friday morning eager to start the day. It would bring not only reprieve for Kailani, but a respite from the big house on the cliffs. And Jason would be with her.

  After showering and dressing, she peeked through a crack in the curtains to see if he’d arrived. To her delight, he was waiting in the driveway with the motor running.

  On the hour-long ride to the city, Jason talked about his new job, how his team had merged a comm link with a text processor to create something called the encomm, an enhanced communicator that let universities around the country share research.

  “Your father was one of the best researchers in the Republic,” he said.

  “Maybe the best.” She smiled.

  “How much more could he have accomplished if he were able to discuss his ideas with colleagues at other universities, every day, as if they were sitting right next to him?”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Possible and more. Our latest project will add photograms to documents—voice, data, photograms, and documents, shared as if you were in the same room. Encomm will someday change the world.”

  She eyed her childhood friend while he beamed at the road ahead as if the future lay beyond the next curve. Maybe this was the kind of adventure the younger Jason had been searching for.

  Helena had little to say about her own circumstance. She mostly listened until the city limits came into view, and then their conversation turned to Kailani. Who was she? Why had she come? What would the day with her be like?

  At the department, they signed the requisite paperwork, swearing allegiance to the Republic, and accepting responsibility for the child under penalty of incarceration for the crime of collusion with the enemy. That is, if she should escape or they should fail to return her. Then they waited while the matron fetched her.

  Kailani burst into the waiting area, thrilled to be free from her cell, but she became most excited when she caught sight of Jason’s car. She bounced on tiptoes and clapped her hands, telling them she’d ridden in what she called a motorized wagon only twice before. She thought Jason must be very important to own one.

  Once underway, their first order of business was to buy her something to wear; she couldn’t very well wander around Albion Point in prison garb.

  At the outskirts of the village, Helena asked Jason to stop at a clothing store, where she bought the girl a pair of tan shorts and a flowered blouse. It was the first time either of them had seen her properly dressed and dry. She was enchanting, mesmerizing, no longer a felon but a golden child alight with innocence.

  Kailani reveled in her new clothing, preening in the store mirror until Helena reminded her that the ocean awaited.

  By the time they arrived at Albion Point, Helena was ready for lunch, but Kailani refused to eat until she’d been to the shore.

  Helena and Jason had discussed where to take her. Returning to the cliffs where the boat had crashed seemed ill-advised, and Helena didn’t feel comfortable bringing the girl to her parents’ home. Both quickly agreed on the perfect place—the Knob.

  Helena described it to Kailani along the way. “The Knob stands on a jut of land sticking out into the bay. At its end, it rises up to this rock dome high above the water. I think you’ll like it—a place to rest and reflect.”

  Kailani gaped at her as if she’d explained the ocean had turned from blue to red while she was in her cell. “It sounds like a place of the Spirit. Why would the soulless care about something like that?”

  Much as she hated to admit it, Helena could see Carlson’s point. Talk like this could get Kailani in trouble. “Well, maybe we’re not as soulless as you think. Maybe we just use different words. Like you, we care about beautiful things, and we try to help each other. Otherwise the Knob wouldn’t even exist.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The path to it would’ve been washed away long ago by time and tides. The giant boulders that protect it have to be maintained. The equipment that sets them in place is paid for by a donation left to the town by the Knob’s late owner, Cornelia Eldridge. The townsfolk help too, raising money from an annual road race and other such events, as well as volunteering their time. As a child, I’d go to the Knob every spring with my classmates to help clean up damage done by winter storms. You’ll be glad once you see it.”

  The moment Kailani was out of the car, the smell of salt water seemed to energize her, replacing her need to ask questions. They to
ok the path between two stone pillars, past the plaque giving tribute to Cornelia Eldridge, and entered the woods. Kailani skipped along, hopping from stone to stone, jumping over roots and fallen branches.

  In five minutes they emerged from the woods. A narrow causeway followed an exposed ridge that curved around to its end, with the final rise to the Knob constantly in view. The land dropped off dramatically on either side, armored with sloped boulders, protecting the path from erosion. As if to prove their necessity, a gusty wind blew from the north, driving whitecaps that pounded the rocks. The causeway terminated at a dozen stairs flanked by scrub pines on either side.

  Kailani raced ahead to the steps, golden hair flashing about her shoulders.

  “She’s like a sunbeam,” Helena said. “How can we let her go back to that cell?”

  “What else can we do? Penalty of collusion, you know.”

  “If we could convince her to assimilate—”

  “Hard to do, Helena. She was raised that way.”

  “She has a mind. She’s seems bright, and she’s too young for brainwashing to be permanent. All she needs is time, teaching, a place with lots of support.”

  “The way she talks—”

  “A place where we could hide her away without breaking the law.”

  Helena pictured her mother’s farm in the distant north, not far from the land bridge, an art colony where some less-than-rational people plied their craft removed from the oh-so-reasonable world. What harm could Kailani do there?

  “Like the farm,” she said, thinking aloud. “It’d be perfect for her. A child from the Blessed Lands? Instead of being offended, my mother and the others would hang on her every word. If only....” She turned and caught Jason staring. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that for a second I caught a glimpse of that girl I used to know, the one who sat by the window and cared so much. It’s nice to see her again.” He reached out for her, palm up.

  Growing up, she thought of her mother’s hand as palm down, restraining. Don’t go there, Helena. Stay near me. Jason’s hand had always been different, beckoning. Come along, Helena, let’s explore.