Beyond and Within

"That dog?"

"Yes, that dog."

"Do you think it's possible you're reading too much into this?"

He shrugged. "I think it's possible I might never know why this happened."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Me?"

"I taught a cop to fly once, here in the city, and he ended up moving to the South Pacific somewhere and flying for a little airline down there. He called me a few weeks ago and told me the airline is looking for a new chief pilot..."

"You?"

"I've talked to them."

"Okay. So, why do you need to talk to me?"

"I don't know, really. What would you do?"

"What? You mean...if I was you?"

"Something like that."

"It sounds impulsive. Dangerously so."

He nodded his head again, slowly. "That's kind of what I thought, too."

"And you're thinking of going, aren't you?"

"For some reason impulsive sounds good right now," he said as he leaned back and resumed staring at the stars.

"Denny? Why'd you want me to come here tonight?"

"What are your plans?"

"My plans? For what?"

"The future."

"I don't have any."

"Oh? None? Like not even work twenty years, retire and buy an avocado farm?"

She laughed, the pup stirred -- and he leapt to the tented enclosure, felt it's heartbeat and rubbed the little girl's forehead. She watched, fascinated, as the little thing turned it's head and licked his fingers before falling back into a deep sleep. "You know," she said, "you'll never be able to leave that pup alone. Not ever."

He was staring at the little girl's breathing now, counting her respirations, and he stopped a minute later and started writing in a logbook. "I'd as soon she never left my side. Not ever. So you...no plans?"

"Nothing...beyond retiring someday. Why?"

"Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

"Geez...no. What makes you say that?"

"Hey...it's a brave new world, and you never know."

"Well, no, no relationships, just work."

He nodded his head while he secured the little tent over the pup. "Work get in the way?"

"Sometimes. Other times, I think it's an excuse."

He turned and looked at her. "Oh?"

"Being a cop isn't exactly a surefire way to meet the man of your dreams, Denny. Most men don't like the idea of dating a cop, in case the idea slipped your mind."

"Have you ever met the man of your dreams?"

"You mean -- besides my grandfather?"

He chuckled at that, then turned to look her in the eye. "Yeah, besides him."

She looked away, then up at the stars. "You, maybe," she whispered.

"Maybe?"

"It's too soon for you, and I don't want to get hurt when you finally figure that one out."

"No one does."

"So? Did that come as a surprise?"

"Surprise? I guess so; I can't imagine why, however. You probably know more about my life than anyone left on earth."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

He shook his head. "No, not really. But maybe part of getting to know someone is finding out all those things over time -- and not in one morning."

"And maybe it's finding out all those things in one morning."

"Ah, yes. Doris Goldstein. The thing we never mention. The things you two talked about."

She looked down at her hands, shook her head. "You know something, Denton. Something weird. The more she described you the more I wanted to get to know you."

"Is that why you came back that night?"

"You needed someone."

"You were very sweet. Very gentle."

"So were you."

"Sharon and I...we hadn't been together in a long time. I think because I knew. About Doris. I tried once, but I moved in to my study after, started sleeping on the sofa after Jenn left for school..."

"She didn't know?"

He shrugged. "I hope not, but she was pretty smart about people."

"You miss her, don't you? I mean, really, really miss her."

He didn't answer that question, but neither did he look away. He just held her in his eyes, and yet she had the feeling he'd just come to a decision.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that."

"Okay," he said, an air of tired finality in his voice.

"So? The South Pacific?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you into all this. I need to get Jenn's tent inside. Condensation's forming now...getting too cool out."

He stood and unplugged the rig from the extension cord, then rolled the cart into his study. He made polite noises about sleep and a long day after that, and she didn't need to be told what those words meant.

"Too soon," she sighed -- after he saw her to the front door.

Once she was behind the wheel of her car, once she was beyond the moment, she closed her eyes, then she cried for a very long time.

+++++

'This water is too clear,' King thought as he steered the canoe through the last ragged remnants of the storm. He was counting intervals between swells while looking at colors within the sea, and at certain times that morning he measured the angle of the sun above the horizon -- but by then he knew the island was close. Maybe two more days, he told himself, perhaps a little less.

Still, the colors he saw in the sea troubled him, enough to make him doubt his position.

So he was not surprised when he first saw the island's jagged spires on the horizon later that afternoon. The tops were one fist over the horizon line, and with that one vital piece of information he knew he was almost close enough to make the island before the sun disappeared.

He felt a shimmer in the air just then and he turned, saw towering storm clouds gathering in the midday heat. He looked deep into the clouds, listened to the wind, even analyzed the colors of the sky around the base of the storm, then he frowned -- because suddenly he felt a new danger in the air, and this one was closing-in fast.

If he did not make the island before nightfall he would have to fall off the wind and wait until the large star up came again, for he dare not attempt the reef at night -- not in a storm of this size -- and not without the moon to show the way. There were too many black-tips in this passage to risk falling into the sea, especially in a storm.

He let-out the densely woven sail, fell off the wind just a little, and he felt the canoe pick up speed. He sighed, relaxed, knew he had done all that he could for now, so he concentrated on the spires -- and only so often did he turn and look at the massive storm coming up from behind. By the time he saw the line of surf just off the reef's edge he knew it would be close; the sky behind was now almost black while thunder and lightning rippled the wind all around him.

So close! Oh, so close! He stood with his feet wide and felt the canoe rise as a large wave overtook him, then he steadied his track as the canoe surfed down the face of the wave.

Soon, waves as high as his mast crashed on either side of his canoe as he slid into the narrow channel between coral canyons, then a large wave came up from behind and lifted the canoe's stern again. As his little ship lifted the sail caught the clear air above the wave, and he steered away from the closest rocks towards an inlet in the sandy beach. The wave fell away as he entered the lagoon, and then he saw it just ahead...

He saw the town first, only a few rooftops visible in the fading light, then at last the flashing lights at the new airport, with the control tower illuminated by long, uneven flashes of lightning.

At last he sailed past the rooftops to the old long wharf and tied off.

The thunder and lightning were worse now than he'd ever seen it before, but then he saw them standing above him on the wharf and he felt a new fear. The old man looked like King -- the crazy American pilot, and so did the little girl.

They watched as he climbed up the oil-stained, time-splintered rungs to the landing by the Harbormaster's Office.

And the little dog was with them, and yet that made a strange kind of sense. The little girl was holding the dog, yet still holding onto the old man's hand, and he knew the only thing that could come of this was heartbreak.

Part II

King had not seen his friend in many months, and he had a favor to ask so decided to go see him. One of his older sons wanted to learn to fly, to go to America and become a pilot, and Denton was the only person he knew who might help with such knowledge, and it would only take a few days to sail to the island where he lived.

+++++

She used to drove by his house from time to time, but never when she had a rookie with her. She'd noted the For Sale sign one day and had felt gut-punched; she had parked her patrol car in the drive that evening and gotten out to check the house. The neighbor -- Bruce? -- came out just then, apparently when he saw her police car, and he walked up to her just before she let herself in the gate to the back yard.

"Officer Green, isn't it?"

"That's right. I'm sorry, but I don't think I ever caught your name?"

"Bruce Goldstein," he said, extending his right hand.

"You're the doc, right? With the pups. Nice to meet you."

"You're not looking for Denton, are you?"

She looked down, nodded her head slowly. "Did he leave -- take the position overseas?"

Goldstein nodded in silence, prodding her to make eye contact. She looked up and he could see she was upset. More than upset, really.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Did he leave a way to get in touch?"

"Yes. Do you really need too?"

"What does that mean?"

"I think what I'm trying to say is that Denton left everything behind. Literally everything. I think he took some underwear and socks, probably a toothbrush, but for all I know that's about it."

"What about the pup? The little girl?"

"Jenn? Yeah, he took her too. In his shirt pocket, as a matter of fact. I think the only reason he hung around as long as he did was to see her weaned and to get her first shots, then that was it."

"How did she do?"

"Jenn? Healthy, strong, but very, very small. Always will be. Look, I don't mean to stick my nose in your business, but was there something going on between you two?"

"I'm pregnant."

The physician nodded; he'd already seen the signs and had only wondered who the father was. "Do you think Denton is..."

"I know he is."

"Does he know?"

"No, there's no way he could. I'm not even sure I want him to."

"Are you going to have the baby?"

She looked away for a while, then turned to the physician: "Yes, I think so."

"He was a good father, you know. Doted on that girl. Hell, he doted on Sharon..."

"She was having an affair, with a woman."

"Doris. Yes."

"You knew?"

Goldstein nodded. "You could say that. Dennie was locked into the DFW to Manchester run for years, so he was gone all the time, until the..."

"The accident?"

"He told you?"

"A little. Enough, really."

"It changed him. Three-hundred-sum-odd people in those apartments -- gone -- in a heartbeat. His first officer, too. A good friend. That changes a man."

"Wasn't it something mechanical?"

"Yes. Nothing anyone could've done, totally exonerated, but he had a hard time even going inside a cockpit for about a year. I think he still has a hard time."

"Did he retire -- from American, I mean?"

Goldstein nodded. "Early retirement. He'll be able to fly commercially for a while longer, more where he went...almost five years more if he wants."

"So, you have a way to get in touch with him?"

"In an emergency, yes. Mainly because of his father...he was worried about his father when he left...how his father would take his leaving, what he might do."

"Do?"

"Maybe get his passport revoked, or his licenses. Something like that."

"And?"

"So far not a peep."

"Then he's gone, isn't he? I mean, really gone, as in -- never coming back?"

"Dennie was always a fragile soul. Losing Sharon and Jennifer like that was the last straw, I think..."

"What about that woman...Doris...?"

"My ex-wife, you mean?"

"What?"

"I take it you didn't know that?"

Green stood there in mute disbelief, then she looked at the physician. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

The physician shrugged. "Bits and pieces...that's all I know...all I guess I want to know."

"Were you two close?"

"Dennie and me? Yeah, I guess so, especially after he and Doris had a go at it, then after we learned about the thing with Sharon. We went out a few times, shot some tequila, that kind of thing. He's a strange soul, ya know. Kind of hard on the outside...but very simpatico once you get past all that."

"You forgave him, then?"

"Doris has always been formidable, a real seductress. No, I couldn't blame him for her appetites."

"You like him, huh?"

"Like? He's probably the last best friend I'll ever have, and nothing will ever change that. Fact of the matter is, Officer, I love the guy. I ain't gay, and yet I love him."

Suddenly she felt like she was going to throw up -- and it must've shown.

"You know...you really have no business being out on there on the street..." the physician said as he put his arm around the police officer's shoulder and helped her inside his house.

+++++

The name on the back of the black-hulled sailboat was, he saw, Chimera, and he wondered why. He saw an older couple lounging in the cockpit, feet up on the coaming like they were hiding from the late afternoon sun. He sailed past the Chimera and dropped anchor on the far side of the inlet, then carried another rode ashore and tied it off to a palm tree, and only then did he pick up the tiny dog in the inflatable and carry her over to a patch of grass in the shade of a stately tree.

He liked this harbor almost as much as Cook's Inlet on Moorea, but this time of year Cook's was overrun with tourists; still, he'd half expected to find Fa'anui empty, but no, there was Bellerophon, complete with British ensign flying off her red stern rail. He turned and watched Jenn skipping across the sand, looking for just the right bush, or coconut husk, to make her deposit on, and when she finished he picked her up and carried her back to the Zodiac and pushed-off the beach. He paddled back out to his boat and put her on the swim platform before tying-off and climbing aboard -- but by that time the Brits were staring at Jenn, one of them using binoculars and pointing.

He knew what would come next, and sure enough he heard their outboard sputter to life and saw them puttering across the harbor, so he stood and watched their progress while Jenn made her way up into the enclosed cockpit.

"I say," the older man began as he pulled alongside amidships, "what sort of creature is that? It almost looks like a Springer puppy, but it runs too well."

"That's Jenn, and yes, she's a Springer. Four years old last month."

"Oh, I see," the wild-haired woman said. "I thought she looked like an otter of some sort."

"Nope. She can't swim at all, no fat on her anywhere. Sinks like a stone as soon as she hits the water."

"May we?"

"Sure, come on up," he said, taking the offered line and tying it off on an midships cleat. He helped the woman up, admiring her practiced form as she nimbly climbed over the life-lines, while the old man made it up on his own with no need of assistance. The woman had on a sun hat that must've had a brim a half yard wide, and big square sunglasses to fill out the jet-setting tourist look, and he tried not to shake his head as she hopped over the coaming and down into the cockpit. The old man followed him up into the cockpit -- where they found Jenn in the woman's hands, licking her on the chin.

Which kind of surprised him. Jenn was normally shy and tended to stand back from strangers -- at least until he sounded the all-clear -- but here she was, licking away -- like she was trying to take the woman's measure.

"How old is she?" the woman behind the square sunglasses asked.

"Four -- years," he answered. "I've had her since birth."

"Really?"

"Found her in some bushes, pushed away by her mother."

"They do that," the old man said, "to keep the gene pool strong. As soon as you start taking care of the weak evolution is stopped dead in its tracks. Civilizations, too. Look at America. Look at Europe. Coming apart at the seams as we try to take care of humanity's garbage."

"Duncan, really?" the woman sighed, clearly exasperated. "Must we have this conversation everywhere we go?"

Jenn was looking up at him now and he held out his hands; as if on-cue she leapt from the woman's hands into his, and he pulled her close, held her as if sheltering her from the evils of another world. "You know, I rather like this little girl," he said to the old man. "No matter what she represents -- to you, or anyone."

"Of course. I meant no disrespect."

The woman chimed in at that point: "We wondered if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight, but I suppose that's out of the question now."

"Actually, the two of us come over here to get away from the world for a day or two," he replied, adding, "so we usually stick to ourselves."

"The two of you?" the old man asked, his voice on the edge of incredulity. "You don't mean you and that...dog?"

"I find her company infinity more civil than even you could possibly imagine, sir. Now, is there anything else you'd care to share?" He said as he walked to the gate in the lifelines just above their little inflatable, his meaning clear.

The old man returned, scowling: "My, aren't we an irascible sort?"

"You have no fucking idea," he whispered, and it was all he could do not to shove the old bastard overboard -- then he saw the woman, and the thought passed that she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

And then she lifted her sunglasses and winked at him.

They motored away in silence and he climbed back into the cockpit, then down the companionway steps, and there he waited for the pup. She came to the edge and looked for him, waiting for his hands, and when they appeared she stepped into them. He carried her to his face and let her lick the tip of his nose, then he put the little pup in her nest above the chart table.

She watched as he made their dinner, and they ate together, as they always did, with her on the table beside his plate. He cut little pieces of fish and steak for her, rolled them in a protein supplement, then fed her -- piece by piece until she was full -- while he ate his own dinner. He read in his bunk after that, as he did every night, and she curled up on his pillow when he turned out the lights. She fell asleep, as she did every night, with her chin resting on his neck.

But something was wrong. Some disturbance in the night. A scream, a human scream, and she leapt out of the way just before he bolted upright in the dark.

Another scream, followed by a woman's fearful voice shouting in the night.

"Help! Somebody...help!"

He ran to the chart table and flipped on the spreader lights and turned on the generator, then he dashed topsides.

The woman on Chimera was shouting again. "Help, quickly -- please!"

He pulled the crank on his outboard and motored across the harbor to the other boat and tied off on the stern platform, then he hopped aboard -- only now the woman was nowhere to be found.

He slid over to the companionway and looked down into the brightly lighted saloon, and there he was -- the old man from earlier yesterday -- his lips dark blue, his eyes a lifeless void, and he climbed down, took the old man's wrist and checked for a pulse...

But his skin was already quite cool, his fingernails as blue as his lips.

He pulled open an eyelid and looked at the blown pupils and he knew there was nothing left to be done. He looked up at the woman, saw dawning realization in her eyes, then abject fear in her quivering expression.

He went to Chimera's chart table and turned on the breaker for the radio, then called the Joint Rescue Coordination Center on channel 16.

+++++