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Standing at the railing outside
the bridge, starboard side, he looked across a sea that went on and on. The sky
was mostly clear, save for a few high-elevation clouds and a white condensation
trail from a lone jet. Moisture hung close to the sea, making the horizon
indistinct. He imagined the southern Alaskan coast just beyond the horizon, but
knew it must be much farther away.
“It seems to go on forever, doesn’t
it?” Charlie stepped through the door behind him, and leaned forward against
the rail at his side. Jake’s insides gave a little flutter as her shoulder
brushed against his. He could smell her perfume now; it surprised him, as he
assumed no female sailor would wear perfume. Guess I was wrong.
“It does,” he said. “I was just
imagining where the Alaskan coastline was beyond the horizon. How far do you think
we can see from here?”
“My guess would be about ten to
fifteen miles. That is, on a clear day.”
“So there are hundreds of miles
between us and land in that direction,” he said, nodding toward the east.
“Yep. And if we go a little over
three thousand miles south”—she pointed that direction—“it takes us very close
to Hawaii.”
“I see,” said Jake, enjoying the
view, briefly catching Charlie’s scent again. What is that perfume? Seems so familiar.
They were quiet for some time,
looking out at the flowing sea. The white line of foam broke away from the side
of the ship. The salty air blew past them. After a while Jake noticed Charlie
staring at him, not smiling, not frowning. Just looking, contentedly.
“What?” he said, feeling
self-conscious all of a sudden. “Did I spill something?” looking at his shirt
quickly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” She looked away,
then back again, as if not sure what to say. “I was just thinking.”
“Ah, thinking. Uh-huh. But you were staring at
me,” he said, still wondering what it meant.
“Well, it just occurred to me that
you’re very peaceful.”
“Peaceful?”
“Yes. You don’t seem all tied up
about … anything, really.”
“Am I supposed to be?” Jake asked,
half laughing at the idea, trying to keep the mood light, because it suddenly
felt rather serious.
“No. I mean, I’ve never met
someone, a guy, who wasn’t uncomfortable with something, who wasn’t always
after something, going somewhere.”
“You mean they’re driven to
achieve?”
“No,” she said, sounding
apologetic. “I don’t mean that at all. I’m just talking about being at peace
where they are. Not many can do that, in my experience. But you seem to do it
quite easily. It’s … calming. I find that I’m constantly at something, working
on one problem or another.”
Charlie looked out across the
blue-gray waves. “On the ship, especially, it’s rush to this, hurry to that. I
thrive on it, actually. I’m just that way.” She paused. “But I miss relaxing,
or stopping to see, to really see what’s around me. Like all this beauty out
here.” She waved her hand toward the open ocean.
“It is beautiful,” he said, gazing out at the deep blue water beneath
them. Jake thought about what she had said for a while, then noticed her
furtively looking at him again.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” Charlie said
quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” he said, “not a
problem.” The two-year difference in their ages suddenly seemed much wider. He
half-suspected that she was a little older than nineteen. Was she telling the truth? She
wouldn’t have any reason to lie. It would
take a mature person to do well in the military. And that’s obviously her gift.
Charlie straightened. “Hey, you
want the rest of the tour?”
“Sure. We have yet to see the
front half of the ship, right?”
“Right. Let’s head down from the
bridge, to the lowest level, come up through each deck, then I’ll take you to
the fo’c’sle. We can work our way backward from there.”
Jake followed her inside, past his
father and the captain, who were in the middle of a conversation about tides. They
climbed down the hatchway and walked forward. “What is a fo’c’sle?” he asked as
they walked up the sloping deck toward the bow of the ship.
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