The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky

by David Litwack

  The shrine was her name for the display of photograms she’d arranged on the dining room buffet after she’d cleared away her mother’s collection of knickknacks. The photos—her and her father on the beach, at the lab, on the cliffs—needed no tidying.

  She checked the clock: too early to find Jason, so she opened the buffet drawer and began to flip through old pictures. A third of the way through the pile, she came upon one of her family at the Knob. Her mother looked much younger then, her hair not yet turned gray, but there was something else. While the young Helena was focused on the stairs of the Knob, her mother was watching her with a look of.... She had no words for it, but it made her throat tighten.

  Now they hardly talked.

  She took the picture from the pile, dusted its frame, and set it in the center of the shrine. It seemed to belong there. Did her mother deserve it? No, but for Kailani’s sake, it was time to forgive.

  Finally, sunlight came streaming through the lace curtains. The work day would soon begin. She dressed quickly and hurried off to campus.

  She took a shortcut through the new science complex that had housed her parents’ lab—new because she’d watched it being built when she was little. Her father had presided over the dedication when the red cedars that lined the walkway were first planted. Now, as she raced up the hill, their mature branches swayed in the end-of-summer breeze.

  How have they grown so tall?

  This was her first time back on campus since her father’s memorial service, and her path seemed constantly blocked by family friends eager to offer condolences.

  “I’m sorry, Helena. You father was an amazing man.”

  “Best pure researcher I ever knew. What a loss for the field.”

  And the question she dreaded most. “So, how are your studies coming?”

  She smiled and shrugged off the comments, trying to be polite, and moved on as quickly as manners allowed until she reached the engineering quadrangle.

  Engineering had been unfamiliar territory to her theoretical scientist father, a confusing warren of offices and partitioned workspaces that almost looked like a factory. She accosted anyone whose attention she could catch, and asked for Jason Adams. After several tries, she found him in a cubicle, hunched over a device that looked like a text processor with an oversized screen stuck on top. She hovered, waiting for him to notice her, but he was too engrossed in his work.

  Finally, she came up from behind and tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned. “Helena, how nice to see you.” His face said otherwise.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  “I wish. The revision goes live tonight, the one with the photograms, but it’s still not working. I need every second.”

  “It’s Kailani. They’re moving her to a correctional facility.”

  Without further prodding, he abandoned his work, grasped her by the elbow, and led her down the hall into a glass-enclosed conference room. “A correctional facility? Why would they do that?”

  “It’s the tribunal. If she doesn’t assimilate, they’ll have to lock her away. They’re sending her to be re-educated—Deerfield, I think it’s called, several hours from here. I couldn’t sleep last night. For reason’s sake, Jason, a correctional facility where they send zealots and criminals!”

  She was talking too fast. As a child, she’d always talked too fast when upset. Her mother used to say, “Slow down, Helena. Count to three when you’re worked up. If you talk too fast, you’ll say something you regret.”

  She counted to three now. “I have a plan to stop it. Carlson supports it.” She paused to assess Jason’s reaction.

  He was staring at her like he used to in the classroom from two aisles away, pupils wide, lips parted.

  At me and not the clouds. She took an extra breath and spoke each word deliberately. “It could get complicated.”

  He took her by the arms and steadied her. He always seemed to be steadying her. “Sounds too important to discuss in a rush, and I have no time now.”

  “You won’t be angry with me?”

  “Why would I be angry?”

  The vent above her head kicked in, blowing cold air down the back of her neck. Its hum joined the drowsy drone of communication devices around her, a dull and hollow sound. Not the time or place to explain.

  “Can we meet for dinner?” she said.

  He snuck a glance outside the conference room. Two men in blazers wandered down the aisle toward them, deep in conversation. “I won’t be done by then. There’s a problem scanning images—the header’s being garbled. It could be a late night.”

  “Come to my house no matter how late it is. I’ll wait.”

  He nodded, opened the door, and pointed her toward the exit. Then he raced off before his colleagues could turn the corner, and vanished amidst the warren of cubicles.

  ***

  The clouds on the horizon had long since turned from red to pink to purple, then scattered to be replaced by a host of blinking stars. For the first time in a week, the night had stayed warm, so despite the late hour, Helena decided to wait outside. Yellow beams streamed across the lawn from every window of the house, and she added candles along the path to brighten Jason’s way.

  She waited on one of the wooden plank chairs spread across the yard, her head tipped back, gazing at the stars. When the crunch of footsteps on gravel approached, she jumped up and swung open the gate in the picket fence.

  “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Jason said.

  “It is. How did your project go?”

  He rolled his eyes and grinned. “You should see it, Helena—images as crisp as the originals, transmitted halfway across the country. It will change the world.”

  She tried to smile—she knew how much it meant to him—but her smile quickly faded.

  “Is it that bad?”

  She released a sigh as he settled next to her. “Maybe. I offered to take her until the tribunal.”

  “And Carlson’s gone along?”

  “Yes,” she said, “with some conditions.”

  “Well, it’ll be nice to visit her here without the hour’s drive.”

  She shook her head. “That’s the thing. Carlson won’t let her stay near the city—too much chance of getting in trouble. He wants someplace supportive but remote.”

  “Like where?”

  “Like my mother’s farm. Kailani would have a safe area to roam around, lots of activities, plenty of caring people to look after her, but no nearby population she could accidentally proselytize. My mother will help, hopefully teach her a craft. There’s no ocean, but it’s beautiful. Kailani has already said she’d like to go there. I discussed it with Carlson, and he’s agreed.”

  She paused, counting the surges from the surf below, three in and three out.

  “How far is this farm?” Jason said, as the fourth surge began to break.

  “About a four-hour drive.”

  His face contorted as if he’d eaten something sour. “That’s a long way for a weekend visit.”

  She reached across and covered his hand with hers. “I don’t want you to visit. I want you to come with us.”

  He pulled his hand away. “What?”

  She stood and edged toward the cliffs, keeping her back to him. “It was the only way I could think to save her.”

  He came up behind her, his breathing quick and sharp, but he didn’t respond.

  She turned to face him. “You’re angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  “I didn’t plan this.”

  “It’s not in my plans, either.”

  “Please... don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad, just... disappointed.” His voice dropped so low, she could hardly hear his next words over the surf. “We’re finally together after all this time, and I thought—”

  “We have the opportunity to save a child.”

  “But to give up everything for a little girl I hardly know....”

  She felt as if her rib
s were constricting, squeezing the air from her lungs. How could she let Kailani go to the reformatory?

  “I won’t go without you,” she said. “You and I have been given a second chance. We may not get another.”

  He edged closer and grasped her bare arms. The warmth of his touch eased the goose bumps that had formed despite the warm night. “What about the promise you made to your father? If you leave, you won’t be able to graduate.”

  “I know, but I made a promise to Kailani too. She’s alive, and my father’s gone. Besides, I was never going to finish school.”

  He stared at her—the look of a stranger, the look of a friend, the look of something more. It seemed forever before he spoke. “When did you decide?”

  She took time to order her thoughts.

  Behind her, the beacon atop the Tower of Reason whirred through its eight-second cycle, sweeping across the water and grazing the rocky cliffs before disappearing again. As if in response, a full moon cleared the roof of the house and cast a more permanent path of gold on the ocean.

  In its pale glow, Helena felt an odd and unexpected clarity.

  “I decided,” she said, “before he died, before I ever made the promise.”

  ***

  She and Jason talked about other things for a long time—his project, how much the job meant to him, the visit she’d had that day with Kailani and the little she’d learned. She painted a word picture for him of the farm, with its eccentric artists and rolling green hills. She insisted she wouldn’t go without him, but there’d be no decision that night.

  Instead, they reminisced about their last night together, before she’d gone off to university. It was a night like this, with a moon as full and bright.

  She said she’d forgotten how beautiful the ocean could be in the moonlight, and he said maybe it only shone like that for them—when they were together. She said she wished he’d said that the last time, before they drifted apart.

  When words ran out, they came close together and embraced. They held on, neither wanting to be the first to let go, clinging to each other as if to ward off the unknown. Finally, he pulled gently away. The hour was late, and he had work tomorrow. He kissed her and headed off down the path.

  Helena watched until his outline nearly vanished against the pale cliffs, not taking her eyes off him until his dark shape had disappeared around the bend.

  The yard of her childhood home was awash with moonlight now, cold and lucid, strong enough to cast a shadow beside her and lay sparkles on the tips of the waves. As she blew out the candles and prepared to go inside, a voice in her head made her pause, a whisper telling her to look up at the stars.

  Try under the stars, and he’ll speak to you.

  She stretched her mind beyond its rational limits, trying to see the universe through Kailani’s eyes, to touch her father’s spirit and ask forgiveness. Feeling weak-kneed, she sat on the ground, reaching out with either hand to steady herself.

  She held her breath and listened for a response.

  She heard the squawk of a sleepy gull, the ebb and flow of the sea, the sough of the wind through the stand of birches that bordered the house, and the creaking of their branches. But she could sense no spirit in the wind.

  When she released her breath, the air came out in a rush, as if she’d been drowning in loss.

  When she was a teen, maybe thirteen or fourteen, her father had taken her out on their boat to a nearby lake, a sheltered place with calm but deep water. She’d always been a good swimmer but was afraid of staying underwater for long—something to do with the darkness and a sense of being alone.

  Her father had insisted she overcome that fear.

  ***

  He dropped a line and measured to the bottom—thirty feet—then ordered her to dive down and bring up a fistful of silt. He calculated how many seconds it would take to go down and return, and assured her she’d have breath to spare.

  She dropped over the side and descended no more than a body length before bobbing back to the surface, gasping as if she’d been under forever.

  He said it would be all right and to try again, reminding her to kick her feet straight up and point her toes to the sky.

  She took a bite of air and flipped her legs up, keeping her knees together and pointing her toes. There was a rush of water, a change in temperature, pressure on her eardrums. Kicking hard, she descended this time until she struck something solid. The rest was a haze: grabbing a handful of silt, flipping around and groping for the dim light above, seeing the blur of a familiar face, bursting through the surface, the wet silt oozing through her fingers.

  Her father applauded wildly.

  ***

  Now, there was no one to correct her form, no one to say it would be all right, no one to tell her what choice to make.

  She rose to her knees and brushed the blades of grass from her palms, noticing as she did so that her hands were shaking. A different voice in her head whispered—a terrible, cold voice. He’s gone. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes; she blinked them back.

  She was on her own.

  Chapter 9 – Bittersweets

  Two days before Kailani’s transfer date, Jason joined Helena for the final furlough. He hoped the time together would help him to decide.

  He was loathe to abandon Kailani to her fate, but hated to take leave from his job when it was going so well. He racked his brains until he came up with a solution—use the new technology to work from the farm. After all, wasn’t that exactly what it was designed for?

  “Absolutely not,” his supervisor had said. “The project’s too critical. We need a hundred percent effort from all our engineers.”

  Jason pleaded his case, swearing he’d keep up with his workload. He badgered until his supervisor offered an alternative.

  “We’re hiring testers to work remotely. You can have that job, but it’ll mean a demotion and a cut in pay—a step backward in your career, at least until you return. Take a couple of days to think it over.”

  Jason remained undecided, torn between loyalty to his project and a desire to help Kailani. What would Helena think of him if he said no? The choice made him light-headed, as if he were balanced on a knife-edge above a mist-filled gorge. He was afraid to pick a side, fearing the slightest sway in either direction might lead to a plunge into the unknown.

  He recalled the first time Helena had gone away—late summer, before she headed off to university.

  ***

  His father asked him to carve out a few hours to visit the cemetery as the anniversary of his mother’s death approached, but he was busy with the start of school by then. His father urged him to commemorate the day. He resisted—too much to do, lots of work at the sandwich shop, saying goodbye to Helena—but he finally agreed.

  They went the next morning. His father shuffled to the grave to place a ragged set of roses he’d purchased at a discount store. When he knelt and bowed his head, he seemed to shrivel, curling up on himself like a dry leaf in winter.

  That night, as Jason mopped the floor of the sandwich shop, it came to him that the path he was on led down the ever-diminishing corridors of his dream. He dropped the mop on the spot, went home, and started to pack. When his father came in to ask what he was doing, Jason said he was moving out. He needed fresh air, a fresh start, to be on his own, away from the home where he’d been raised.

  He called Helena and begged her to come see him, telling her to make whatever excuse she must to get away, then grabbed two blankets and met her at the entrance to the Knob. There, he used a propane lantern to navigate the path in the dark, until they found their way up the stairs and to the bench overlooking the sea.

  They stayed until sunrise. He told her about the harsh words he’d said to his father, and how he wanted more from life. They made a vow to each other to be true to their youthful ideals. When they clutched each other in a goodbye embrace, neither was willing to let go. In his heart, he knew why.

  Both understood how uncertain
the future could be.

  ***

  Youthful ideals. Was this where they’d led him now?

  While awaiting his decision, Helena had forged ahead with the plan, persuading her mother to make arrangements for their arrival at Glen Eagle Farm. She had Carlson prepare two sets of paperwork: Kailani’s release until the hearing, and a transfer manifest to the reformatory, as if the girl were a piece of freight. The choice was up to him.

  On the drive south, Jason kept glancing into the rearview mirror to observe Kailani. For much of the ride she’d been sullen and still, gazing out the window as the landscape passed by. But when he checked on her next, her eyes were locked on his.

  “Why don’t you come with Helena,” she said, “every time she visits?”

  He smiled. “I have a job. I don’t have as much time off as Helena. If I did, I’d love to visit you more.”

  Kailani shimmied over and filled the gap between the front seats.

  “Not me, Jason. I meant, why don’t you want to be with Helena more? You like each other, don’t you?”

  “Of course we do.”

  “That’s good.” She shifted back to the window and pressed her nose against the glass, humming for a few seconds in rhythm with the tires before speaking again. “The sky says each of us has a trace of the Spirit inside. Sometimes, one person can touch that Spirit in another. It was that way when the sea met the sky, and it’s that way with the two of you. The sky says I’m good at sensing the Spirit in people. I can tell.”

  A trace of the Spirit. More irrational ramblings from the Blessed Lands—each person carrying around a bit of some magical force, and having the bits touch like a pair of live wires to make a spark. And yet.... He glanced at Helena. She tilted her head toward him and smiled. His face grew warm.

  He looked back at the road in time to catch the familiar green sign. “Look, Kailani. Albion Point. We’ll be at the ocean soon.”

  Kailani huffed steam on the window to make it fog, then rubbed it clear with her hand.