Cloud Nine

‘Three years. At least,’ Sarah said. ‘Three and a half, in Marblehead. How about you?’

Will stared at the Atlantic Ocean. It had appeared as a silver thread on the horizon, and it was spreading into a silver-blue sheet. The sun was behind the plane. It had risen high and was making the distant water glisten with bright light.

‘I know exactly when I last saw it,’ he said.

‘When?’

‘When we moved up from Newport, five years ago. Right after I left the navy. I haven’t seen the ocean since.’

‘Well, you’re seeing it now,’ she said gently, watching his face. Mentioning Newport, the lines in his face had hardened with pain. He felt her staring at him, so he looked over.

Sarah remembered one time at the hospital, lying on a table, terrified and claustrophobic about going in for an MRI. A young nurse she had never met had stroked her hand and held her gaze. That gentle human contact had calmed her so much, and she never forgot. Reaching for Will’s hand, she pulled her sunglasses down to make sure he could really see her eyes. She smiled.

‘I haven’t wanted to go back,’ he said.

‘I know,’ Sarah said. She felt the fear pouring out of him, although she didn’t know what it was for. The reasons didn’t matter.

‘I see it, and I think of him in there.’

‘Who, Will?’

‘My son Fred,’ Will said.

‘What happened to him?’ Sarah asked, afraid to hear.

‘He drowned,’ Will said. ‘In the Atlantic,’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said.

Will nodded. There was no anger or hardness left in his face. The lines had relaxed, and his eyes were blank. He looked straight at Sarah and nodded.

They were getting closer. Although the plane was sealed tight, Sarah could almost imagine she could smell the salt air. She could see waves breaking over rocks, the foam pure white and solid looking. Ships left V-shaped wakes behind them. Small towns dotted the coves, and white spires seemed to stand on every hill.

Will called in to a new tower, and the familiar flat tones of a New England voice greeted them. Announcing plans to land and refuel, he received clearance. They circled the airport at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Although Maine was just across the Piscataqua River, they still had a long flight to Elk Island. Sarah closed her eyes and felt Will bring the plane in for a landing, almost enjoying the loss of control.