Beyond and Within

They had departed Britain two years earlier, sailed to Gibraltar, then the Azores before sailing direct to the Panama Canal. From there, Devlin Wood and April Raines had spent a year and a half sailing -- slowly -- through the Marquesas and Tuamotus Islands, and they had only reached Papeete three weeks ago. They had planned to spend a few weeks on Moorea, then Bora-Bora, before sailing on to New Zealand -- but now all that was over. Leaving when he was almost seventy years old, Devlin had simply waited too long to chase his last dreams.

April Raines was something of an odd choice to take on a slow, round-the-world sailing trip. She'd had a somewhat illustrious career in the adult entertainment industry, more specifically staring in a series of films that would never be eligible for any mainstream awards. She'd met Devlin through work on one of her last films, and as he'd been both decent looking -- and more than a little wealthy -- she'd signed onto the Chimera's crew.

She'd never been able to convince Devlin to tie the knot and so was now, quite literally, stranded in French Polynesia with barely enough money to survive on while his affairs were sorted out. And she had no one to turn to for help -- no one, it turned out, but Denton King.

+++++

She was an attractive woman, he thought, in a way. In a very certain way. Once you cut through the pseudo Euro-posh thing, anyway. The floppy faux-silk hats and the white-rimmed sunglasses, the strappy, high-heeled sandals and the orange lip-gloss. She put on, all-in-all, quite a show. Did she really think him so naïve?

Yet...he hadn't been with a woman since Sharon. Not one. Because not one woman had seemed attractive enough to bother with.

So, he wondered, why this one? Was it the almost overt sexuality she wore like lip-gloss? What was that all about? Was that all she had to offer?

And the funny thing was...that was the least attractive thing about her.

No, she was vulnerable, and alone, and he wondered if that's what he found attractive about her. After all, wasn't that what had impelled him to rescue little Jenn? Did he still really think he'd somehow let Sharon down? Did he have to over-compensate now? Would he always -- to atone for the sin of fucking Doris once-upon-a-time? But hadn't she, in the end, broken down too, cast aside their vows to one another? And...with another woman -- like the affair grew from some kind of vapid, post-feminist cliché?

He was looking at her, ignoring the constant stream of noise coming from her mouth -- while he concentrated on the curves of her lips. Then he was looking past the shadows cast by those dark lenses onto her eyes -- when she became evasive and turned away. Why wouldn't she talk about her past? What had she done?

He pulled out his iPhone and made a cursory search and there it was, all of it. A stream of lurid x-rated videos beginning in the 90s. Drugs, lots of drugs. And parties on the Med. Big parties. Ibiza, Mallorca, Cannes...all off season, of course. He looked up, took in the orange lips and figured she was about as far away from Sharon as he could get. Maybe she just wanted a revenge fuck.

Like Sharon.

The thought made him laugh and she looked at him.

"You think that was funny?" she snarled, taking on the role of sudden inquisitor.

"Sorry. A passing memory."

"Oh?"

"The way you spoke just then. It reminded me of someone I knew once. What did you find out from the consul's office?"

"There's no Will, nothing on record. He has two children, so they'll inherit unless I can make a case that we were somehow more than just lovers."

"Seventy years old? How did that work?"

"Poorly. And this last year he had no interest at all, so..."

He watched her movements -- something like a shrug, yet somehow even more dismissive -- like the last year had been a barely endurable nightmare. Then again, he felt like he was being measured for a suit. Sized-up, categorized. Like: would he be a good fuck, a worthwhile diversion?

Did he even care anymore?

Then he thought of Jenn, out there waiting for him on the boat.

"The look in your eyes just now? What were you thinking about?"

"Jenn."

"That little dog?"

"Yes, that little dog."

"What is it about that thing? Why does it have such a hold on you?"

"I don't know, April. Perhaps the purity of her soul. No machinations, no ulterior motives. She looks at me and I know I'm loved. I look at her and I understand why love is such an important part of our lives."

"But Denton, it's a dog. Doesn't that bother you?"

"What?"

"What people say, or what they think about you?"

"No. Not in the least. You're assuming something lurid, yet all I can say is my relationship with that little pup is the exact opposite of lurid. Besides, what people think is not my business, and the people I do know, the people who do know me, understand what she means to me. Simple as that."

"I think it's a little unusual."

"Okay. So, tell me, what can I do for you?"

"I need to get back to the U.K."

"Yes, I'd imagine you should."

"I haven't any money."

"I see."

"Could you buy me a ticket home?"

"I thought you had to post a bond on arrival here? What happened to that?"

"They've impounded the funds until the boat is removed from France."

"Ah, Brexit. The gift that keeps on giving."

"Yes, exactly."

"No one at home to lend a hand?"

"No one," she said...her eyes misting.

"Please, no tears -- okay? So? Heathrow?"

"If possible, yes."

"Alright. When?"

"I was hoping you and I might..."

He shook his head.

"No room in your life, eh?" she sighed.

"Something like that."

"Lucky dog."

"I'm the lucky one, April."

"Oh? How so?"

"To know love of such purity is a gift. Perhaps the most important gift we can receive."

"You sound like some kind of monk."

The thought made him smile. "Maybe I am now."

"I'll send you an orange robe."

"Are you packed?" he said -- ignoring her, looking down at his phone, checking the time.

"What?"

"There's an Air France to CDG this evening, or we fly to Honolulu tonight, then on to LAX later in the morning. Or Air New Zealand in the morning. Cost is the same, so your choice. You can hook up with BA in LAX either way."

"Maybe the morning, if I could convince you to join me for the evening."

"Sorry, no, I have to work tonight. I'd be happy to drop you at the airport for the direct to Paris flight. You have time to make it if we leave now."

She seemed confused now, confused because no man had ever walked away from such an offer before, and it made her doubt herself. But no, this wasn't really a man, was he? He was a lost, wretched soul -- in love with a fucking dog -- so this was no great loss. And besides, she'd just suckered the loser out of a one-way fare to London.

She smiled. "I can be ready to go in a half hour."

+++++

He watched her walk away, and in a way she seemed almost almost agitated -- while he felt an odd mix of regret and elation. She was pretty, in a sun-bleached way, and he thought of Sharon as he looked at the deliberately exaggerated sway of her hips.

"Now why do you think she thinks she needs to do that?" he asked Jenn. She was, as she always was when in his little car, in her padded carrier and now perched on the front seat of his old Austin-Healy 300. It was blissfully cool out and he had the top down for the short drive to the airport, and now that Miss April Raines had blown through it seemed like the air had once and truly cleared -- if only because now he knew precisely why he stayed away from such women...

And then an old Alan Parsons song popped up on his phone's random sifting of memory. Siren's Song...an old favorite. He picked up Jenn from her carrier and held her close, looked into her eyes while he listened to the lyrics, and when he saw his reflection in her eyes...he wondered...was that all he'd ever seen in there? Or did this little girl really, truly feel love for him?

Had he truly been a fool all this time? To lavish such fidelity on this poor creature?

Or had he stumbled onto the most important secret of the universe?

Could he escape? Did he even want to now?

The sun was just setting, the color in her eyes shading through black now -- almost to purple -- and apricot colored clouds danced inside these sudden reflections. He held her up to his face and she kissed the tip of his nose, only he closed his eyes just then, awash inside her perfect love, and he felt like crying. His face on her chest, he felt her beating heart under his skin, through her impossibly frail ribs, and he drifted back to the moment of her birth. Squirming in the dirt, alone, her need desperate -- and complete.

"Did you choose me then," he whispered. "Did your soul reach out to me?"

He felt her pull away and he opened his eyes and for a moment he saw Sharon's eyes in Jenn's...then a shimmering inside that left him breathless. He shook his head, saw Jenn again --looking at him now, smiling the way she smiled when she was content.

"I love you, little friend," he sighed, and of course she licked his nose again...but then she touched her nose to his lips...something she rarely did.

He nodded his head. "I know you do, girl."

He kissed her forehead, put her back in the carrier on her seat and he put the old car in gear and drove around the airport to the dispatch office, pulled the top up and picked-up her carrier. He looked at the sunset one last time, then carried her inside...

"You're taking 501 tonight," the dispatcher began, without even looking up, "but there's a change in service now. She's going out of service in Honolulu, and after your eight hours you're taking her to LAX. You'll have two days on the ground there, then you'll fly the direct back here."

He nodded understanding though inwardly he groaned with displeasure. He hated this run, hated going back to the states, if only because he knew his father would already know he was coming -- and he'd probably be waiting at the airport -- for one more showdown.

"What's the weather like tonight?"

"Remnants of Typhoon Doris southwest of Hawaii, tracking west now so it shouldn't be a problem. Nothing else."

"Anything on the squawk sheet?"

"A minor hydraulic leak on two, a bad start on the APU in Auckland, some smoke in the aft galley."

"Anyone check it out?"

"Yup. Oil leak. Fixed."

"How many pax?"

"Light. Five in first, forty in the back."

"Geesh."

"Yup. We won't break even tonight, so go easy on the gas."

He laughed at the dispatchers dry humor, but nevertheless he was glad government subsidies were helping offset these wild, constantly rising fuel prices -- even as tourist revenue continued its free-fall. "What are they doing to her in LA?"

"Swap-out the hot section, do a firmware update on the FMCs, a couple of deep electrical squawks," the dispatcher added as he handed over the night's manifest and his fuel load-out and chit for LAX. "Have a good one."

"Yup." He picked up Jenn's case and rode over to '501' -- a twenty-five year old 757-200 "ETOPs" model -- and after he found his usual patch of grass for Jenn they walked up the air-stairs and into the cockpit. It was hot and stuffy and he reached to the overhead, flipped on the bus and hit the GPU button, then turned on the climate control system for the cockpit. Footsteps in the galley turned out to be his FO for the trip, a kid from Amsterdam who wanted nothing more out of life that to fly old 757s.

"Good evening, Captain, Miss Jenn -- how are you tonight?" the kid said to the carrier.

Jenn yapped once, and they could hear her tail whomping away inside the soft nylon carrier.

"Light load tonight, eh Skipper?"

"Yeah. Let's do a high-perf takeoff, put on a little airshow."

Pers Andersen laughed at the thought, yet he knew his captain better. King was a "strictly-by-the-book" type, not one to put on an airshow in a twenty-plus year old airframe, though the thought was worth a smile or two.

They settled into their routine and woke up the bird as flight attendants started filing onboard, and after they finished their walk-around down below the first class cabin passengers started boarding. Catering and fuel trucks pulled away, then, after engine one began turning, all the ground power carts withdrew. When the ship's IRS sequencing was complete they confirmed their initial waypoint was entered correctly, then switched all three NAV systems to active. He checked waypoints and flight-levels while Andersen finished off the pre-taxi checklist.

"Clear to start two," the chief on the ground advised.

"Starting two," he replied, then he checked in with ground control, got their clearance and waved at the chief down on the apron. "Okay, looks like no inbound traffic," he added, looking out the left side of the cockpit. "Jenn? Are we nominal?"

Two yaps.

"Got it."

"What did she say?" Andersen asked, incredulous as ever.

"No champagne tonight. Just caviar."

"Ah."

They laughed as they taxied out to the end of runway 22, and after the tower cleared them for takeoff he eased on the power and steadied the ship on the centerline, then applied full takeoff thrust.

"V-one...and rotate!" Andersen advised thirty seconds later, and he gently brought the nose up to eight degrees pitch until a positive rate of climb indicated.

"Positive rate, gear up," he said moments later -- as he watched their speed build. "Flaps two."

"Two."

"Clean the wing."

"Clean, three red."

He started a slow turn to the right for their initial heading, then he turned on the autopilot and flight director, watched as headings and rates of climb steadied on assigned values. Andersen started on the next checklist and he looked out the windshield as Moorea slipped away to port, then Bora-Bora. At twenty thousand he spotted the Little Dipper, then Polaris almost dead ahead -- then the thought struck him: what had drawn him to these islands? He could've stayed in Dallas with Jenn, kept flying for American, maybe even taken up with that cop...?

He could see her in his mind's eye just then, in that uniform. She'd been a good lover, an attentive listener. Why had he run from her? What pulled him away?

An arc of lightning pulled him back to the present...

There were big thunderstorms ahead and to their left, and the lightning on display out there was, as always, fascinating. "Bad night to be on a boat down there," he said, then he leaned forward and set the range on the weather radar to MAX and watched the first returns come in.

"That's doesn't look right," Andersen sighed.

"Welcome to the South Pacific," he added as he changed frequencies and contacted Papeete. He asked for a course around the storm and copied the information as it came back, then he entered the new figures on the course and heading displays, and he watched, satisfied, as the ship settled on her new course around the storm -- then he got on the PA and made an announcement:

"Ladies and Gents, we're on our way up to thirty eight thousand, and we anticipate arriving Honolulu about ten minutes early. If you happen to be sitting on the left side of the aircraft look out your window in about five minutes and you'll see some spectacular lighting. Other than that it looks like a quiet ride up to the city tonight...

+++++

King looked at the storm behind his canoe, then up at the flying machine headed north -- and he felt a troubled shimmer in the air. Without thinking he adjusted his sail, tried to pick up more speed...

+++++

After landing at Honolulu, and after securing the aircraft at a ramp well away from the main terminal, he and Andersen went to the Marriott and checked-in, grabbed a lite dinner -- and he went to bed after Jenn hosed down a few bushes by the pool. They were back out at "501" at a little before ten the next morning, seeing that the aircraft was fully fueled as they made their pre-flight walk-around. The belly was loaded with freight and dozens of bags of "priority mail" were unceremoniously dumped in the main cabin before their only passengers, a half dozen or so pilots from other airlines deadheading back to the mainland, climbed up the air-stairs and sprawled out on seats in the first class cabin.

He recognized a few of them and they exchanged nods, then he went to the cockpit and woke up the bird. Thirty minutes later they were wheels up, headed for Los Angeles...

+++++

"Are you sure you want to do this, Ellen?"

She had her carry-on bag in one hand, her daughter Jennifer in the other, and she just smiled at Bruce for the hundredth time. There was no point beating this dead horse, was there? No, it was time for decisive action -- time for her to take decisive action. Now. Today.

"Walk us to security?" she asked, ignoring his scowl.

"Sure."

They walked slowly so Jenn could keep up, and he took her carry-on while she got their tickets and passports ready for inspection. She hugged him once they made their way to the snaking queue, and she turned and looked at him standing where she'd left him before walking out the concourse to their flight, and even from that distance she saw the old physician's tears. She nodded and he smiled again, then he shook his head and hurried away.

"Mommy? Why is Uncle Bruce crying?"

"Because he doesn't want us to go, Sweetie."

"He doesn't want us to go see Daddy?"

"No, Sweetheart, he's just sad because we won't see him for awhile."

"Oh. Mommie, do you really know where Daddy is?"

"Yes, Sweetie, I do."

"Then why haven't we gone to see him before?"

"He's been busy, Jennifer."

"Oh."

There were only a few people at the gate and they let her board early, and once they were buckled-in she looked out the window at the old terminal. It had once been so busy, she thought, but not after fuel skyrocketed, not after the war in Europe. Almost overnight the low-cost airlines shut down, then even the big carriers began to wobble and fall, and that's when governments stepped in. With almost no trains and with travel by air impossibly expensive, everything felt like it was contracting, turning in on itself. It wasn't the world she remembered. Nothing was as she remembered.

She thought about Bruce again, wondered why he had taken her in, helped her raise another man's daughter. She knew he loved them both, that he would have cared for them both as any good husband and father would, but he wasn't Jenn's father and a few weeks ago she'd suddenly felt compelled to make the journey to Polynesia to find Denton, to find her daughter's rightful future, and maybe her's, too.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to do. Maybe she should have stayed with Bruce. In four years Denton had never once asked about her...but then again he had no idea about Jennifer, so who was right and who was wrong?

Then it hit her. Right and wrong didn't matter now. The world seemed to be spiraling out of control; all the conventions and norms of prior experience were dissolving before her eyes, and now, she thought, was the time to find Denton. He'd know what to do...if there was still time.

+++++

With almost forty-eight hours to kill in LA he'd been at a loss, at least until Pers chimed-in.

"Have you ever been to Disneyland?"

He'd had to stop and think about that one. "Once, I think, when Jennifer was about five or six. We usually went to Disney World those days." And, he didn't have to say, Florida was still recovering from the colossal hurricane that had swept the state -- now more than a year ago. Word was it would take Disney years to rebuild, but he knew he wouldn't go there again and he doubted Disney would invest in Florida again. It was just too risky now.

"I think we should go," Andersen said, and he could see the eyes of a child light up when he agreed. "But, how do we get there?"