Noah and Jenna took turns phoning Amos and Zia and Ryan. Letting them know it was happening as scheduled. Asking them to come. Jenna thought they both sounded rather formal, but there was no helping the tone, or the sorrow most of them showed at being invited to a party they had no interest in attending. But they were coming. All of them. To be part of this façade. Show Lane what he needed to see. Make sure everyone stayed safe. Meet whatever came next together.
They drove into town, stopped by Noah’s favorite Mexican for takeaway. Brought it back and ate it on the rear porch, with stars and a slumbering Bear for company. And the boat. Their vessel seemed larger in the dark, a great half-finished sculpture resting quietly beneath its shelter.
Jenna was the one who actually said the words. “You know what I’d like to do?”
Noah was watching her, his gaze shining in the dark. “I think so, yes.”
“Tell me.”
In response, he rose and bundled up their remnants and took them inside. When he emerged, he carried blankets and sheets and pillows and flashlight. “Ready?”
“Yes. Let’s.”
They crossed the rear yard and entered the barn. The air smelled of varnish and sawdust and paint. They climbed into the boat, crossed over the nearly finished deck, and entered the second largest suite, which was located on the bow’s port side, just ahead of the galley. This section had received the least damage: a few cracks in the flooring, easily repaired, shelves ripped out and now replaced, mattress sliced open and tossed. The window had not yet been resealed, and a cool night breeze pushed through. Noah dumped the bedding on the empty frame and left. Jenna was making up two pallets when he returned with the one battery lamp that still functioned. “I wish we had a bottle of wine.”
“Another time. One that doesn’t hold so much baggage.”
“Right.” He set the lamp on the side table and cut off the flashlight. “Tired?”
“Exhausted. Long days.”
He lay down, waited until she was settled. Watched her a long moment. “I better cut off the lamp, else we’ll be sharing our room with all kinds of flying night creatures.”
“All right.” She felt him settle down beside her. She knew she could ask for intimacy. But she was glad he did not press. Now simply wasn’t the time. She felt he knew that too, the way he turned on his side and watched her in the gloom, eyes shining, comfortable with just being here. In this moment. Sharing the half-finished dream. She said, “We’re going to have a boat.”
“We are. Yes.”
“And we’re going to tour any number of foreign lands.”
“Jenna, we can go wherever you want.” He lay on his back, staring at what was still to come. “We can get an outstanding boat for about two thirds of what we have. Save the rest for running costs. Parcel it out so the others have their share of funds to do whatever they please.”
She was tempted to slip over, lay her head on his chest. But there was something she needed to say. Something that required a fractional distance. Far enough to say, “Before the attack. When we left Wallace’s boat. I’ve seen his attitude before. Grim. Defeated. No hope, and determined to hold on to this bleak vision until the very end.” She turned onto her back. Reliving that moment. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like he sucked the life and hope right out of me. When we got in the car and started back, all I could think was, I want to live.”
She heard the rustling of his pallet, felt the underlay move as he rose to a seated position. She could see the gleam of his eyes. Feel the strength and caring of this good man. She said it again, “I want to live.”
“Your job?” he asked. “Your calling?”
“I want that too. Long as I can hold on to life. Death is a part of everything. Just like change. So much of our futile struggle comes down to trying to push our way out of both. Which is worse than foolish.”
“Like tomorrow.”
“I was so proud of what you said to the others. I didn’t know if you would be able to see beyond everything you’d been through in LA. I thought I’d have to walk you through it when we were alone. When you told them what you did . . .” She looked up at him. “I love you, Noah.”
He reached for her hand. Held it with both of his. Silent. Sharing the impossible hour. Together.
She asked, “What about you?”
“I’ve thought about this a lot. I’m not ready to go back to LA. I don’t know if I ever will. But I love building. Love handling a crew, taking on major projects.”
“You’re good at it.”
“Amos and I had a quick chat. And Sol. This old place is up for sale. I’m thinking of taking it on. They’ve agreed to help put together a finance package. I’d like to turn this into a weekend getaway for somebody who’s made it to the top. Hold on to the old-timey feel. Transform everything except the outer shell into the highest possible quality. Add a covered terracotta walkway, possibly wall it in like an extended atrium, running back to the barn. Turn that into an atelier, art studio, cinema room, pool house, whatever.”
“A work of art.”
He lay back down. Snuggled in close. Stared at the ceiling together. For what seemed like hours. Until Jenna said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
