Cloud Nine. Luanne Rice
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and voices spoke to them from down below. Occasionally Will would answer, using their call letters. Sarah had the sense of being passed from tower to tower, as if the air traffic controllers were a benevolent order, overseeing their progress from New York to Maine. At one point Will reached over to take her hand. He held it for a few minutes, until he had to use the radio again to call into Boston Center.
‘Look,’ Will said, leaning toward Sarah to point out a bald eagle circling below. Its wings were long and broad, and it crossed its territory with very few beats. Seeing it filled Sarah with strong emotion.
‘It’s a big one,’ Sarah said, watching it fly over its nest. ‘We have eagles on the island.’ She was a patriot, and seeing eagles always made her proud. Her father had flown in World War II, and she had grown up singing anthems. That reminded her of something Snow had said, and she turned to Will. ‘You were in the navy, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, I was.’
‘But it’s not where you learned to fly?’
‘No, I’ve always loved flying. I grew up in Waterford, Connecticut, near a small airport, and I learned how to fly before I could drive. My first job was taking charters out to Block Island.’
‘So this is nothing new to you. Flying people out to islands.’
‘No, it’s old hat,’ he joked, laughing.
‘Snow said you flew in the navy.’
‘Some of the time. Yes, I did.’
‘She’s so proud of you,’ Sarah said.
Will was silent for a while. ‘I don’t know why,’ he said.
Sarah could hear the self-hatred in his voice. Whatever had happened had hurt everyone very badly. She could see it in Snow, in the way she dawdled on her way home from school and hung around the shop, and in the way she changed her name. She could read it in Will, the deep lines of sorrow in his face, the way he was spending his holiday flying her to Maine instead of with people who loved him.
‘It doesn’t matter why,’ Sarah said.
‘Everything matters,’ Will said.
‘Except “why,”’ Sarah said. ‘Why they’re proud of you, why they love you, why they need you so much. All that matters is that they do.’
‘Is that how it is with you and Mike?’ Will asked, turning to see her face.
‘I do the best I can and try to let go of the results.’
‘If you can do that, you’re very lucky,’ he said.
‘I don’t do it perfectly, that’s for sure,’ Sarah said. ‘I remember the day he told me he was leaving. The words that come to mind are ‘killing rage.”’
Will’s gaze intensified, and he stared harder at the sky, as if it were a busy highway with dangerously merging rush hour traffic.
‘Look!’ Sarah said.
There, in the distance, far beyond the last hill and the tall buildings of the last city, was a line of silver.
‘Wow, Sarah,’ he said. He had been concentrating so hard on his thoughts, he seemed shocked by the sudden appearance of the sea.
‘Do you know how long it’s been since I saw it?’ Sarah asked, resting her fingertips on the dash.
‘No, how long?’
‘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.
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