A World Between (50 page)

Carlotta Madigan sat in the cockpit of the
Davy Jones,
the boomline in one hand and the tiller in the other, sensing and controlling the forces of wind and water where they converged inside her own body, while Royce watched proudly. Not, however, without a certain gentle smugness.

“You’re definitely getting it,” Royce said as Carlotta steered the sailboat into the mouth of Lorien lagoon. “I’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”

“It looks like it, doesn’t it?” Carlotta said contentedly. “I think everyone’s learned a lot about tacking these past few months.”

Royce nodded. “Pacifica has, you and me have, babes, men and women here have, but I wonder how much seamanship those poor off-worlders have picked up...

The house hove into sight, and on the beach, Carlotta could make out a fat brown shape launching itself onto the water and paddling out to meet them. A distant excited whonking echoed across the lagoon.

They were home for the moment; the planet was more or less at peace, and the man beside her seemed much older in a way that sat very well on his tanned bare shoulders. Bucko and lover, helpmate and teacher, second soul and stranger, they had passed through the changes, alone and together, and the ties that had bound them to one another in stasis were transcended now by something at once more fragile and yet stronger than what had been in its very unsettledness. Like the interplay of wind and water, their relationship could only be an ongoing dialectic of constancy and change now, for the vector sum would never again be
hers
or
his
to command, but a shared true course through the seas of change for as long as they sailed together.

She laughed. She craned her neck and without letting go of tiller or boomline kissed him briefly on the lips. “To hell with everyone else, bucko!” she said. “All I know is that we’re learning how to sail this boat together!”

They laughed together, and Royce reached for her, and they hugged each other, and kissed, and suddenly the boom was swinging free and the boat whirling crazily in the water.

“Duck!” Royce shouted, and threw her to the deck as the boom whistled over her head.

“Whonk-ka-whonk ka-whonkity whonk!” Rugo had come alongside and was protesting indignantly as he paddled and puffed to avoid colliding with the out-of-control boat.

Royce lifted himself off Carlotta, grabbed the boom-line and tiller, and quickly restored control. “Bucko Power to you, lady!” he laughed. “You were saying something about learning to sail this boat?”

With a gross ungainly flapping of stubby wings and a great splash of water that soaked them both, Rugo leapt into the boat.

Carlotta cocked her head at the clumsy bumbler, who stood there showering them with water as he shook his body dry, then grinned crookedly at Royce. “You were saying something about Bucko Power, jocko?” she said.

They laughed and Carlotta snuggled into Royce’s shoulder as he steered the boat toward its mooring under the purpling sky. Rugo curled up between them. A sudden puff of wind bellied the sails. Soaked and shivering slightly now in the sunset breeze, huddled together for warmth like little children, they sailed into the safe harbor of home.

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