The stricken look on his face made her stop. It was the first time she’d ever spoken to him like that. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m a little tense.”
“I understand, Claudia,” he said mildly. “I’m a little tense myself.”
She groped for something to say. “How’s the hand?”
He smiled at her—a sweet, achingly wistful smile.
“Sure, it will.”
Again they fell silent. Ten minutes passed. “Claudia,” he said pensively, “do you like wood?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you like wood, working with it?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“I love wood. Love the smell of it, love the feel of the curls that come off when you plane it down. In Sweden I was apprenticed to a furniture maker, did you know that?”
His voice was dreamy, his mind a million miles away. “You know what I’m going to do when I get settled? I think I’m going to make furniture for people—chairs, cabinets, that kind of thing. Everybody needs furniture. In Australia, I was thinking.”
“I thought you were coming home when everything quieted down.”
“No... that was the plan, but I don’t really think that would be the best idea,” he said, almost as if they were talking about something that might actually happen. “I’ve got some money socked away in a mainland account; more than enough to set up shop, and I wouldn’t have to make very much—wouldn’t
“That sounds nice,” she said.
“Well, I was wondering...do you think you might like to work for me—with me? It’d be good to have somebody I trust. You’re a strong, smart girl, you’d pick up the craft in no time, and then, after I’m gone, you’d have a real profession. You’d be surprised, there’s a lot of pleasure that comes from turning out a quality piece of handmade furniture. We could maybe share a house, or I could live in back of the shop and you could rent somewhere if you’d like that better. We could take jobs or turn them down, whatever we feel like. What do you think?”
She smiled at him. “Sure, Mr. T. I’d like that.”
“We’ll plan on it, then.”
Her throat was aching. “You bet.”
After that, they flew on without speaking, deep in their own thoughts, their own regrets, until the last of the fuel ran out and the Cheetah had started its final descent.
She had known for the last twenty minutes that they had missed the island. Since then they had flown in expanding circles, hoping somehow to find the beacon. But she had little hope of finding Tarabao or anyplace else. It was a minuscule island, and the Pacific down this way was very empty. In going on four hours since they’d left Hawaii they’d never seen a single light, not even from some lonely freighter.
She trimmed the tabs slightly back for as long and slow a descent as possible—
“What do we do now?” Torkelsson asked.
“First get your life jacket on. And you know there’s a raft stowed right behind us, right? If something happens to me and I can’t—”
“Claudia—”
“—and I can’t open it for us, you just pull the inflation handle, you don’t have to open the valise. Make sure you wait till you get it out the door first.”
He managed a dry laugh. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“Now get that jacket on. And then pull the seat belt tight. Don’t worry, we’re going to be all right.”
“Of course we are.” He said it like a man already dead, but he shrugged the mildewed orange jacket over his head and pulled the bands tight. Claudia did the same with hers.
“I’m really sorry I yelled at you like that,” she said a few moments later. “I had no call to do that. You’ve been great to me, Mr. Torkelsson, you and your brother both.”
“Oh, that’s all right, I had it coming.” He was very calm, very still. “Can I do something to help?”
“No, there’s really not much to do. Can you see anything down there?”
“No, it’s black as ink.”
She checked the altimeter. “We’re at sixteen hundred feet now. I’m going to put on the landing lights. If you can help me look for the waves, that’d be a help.”
“Look for the waves?” he said blankly.
“Which way they’re running. We want to come in parallel to them, between the crests, if we can. If we run smack into them, it’ll be like running into a stone wall. Into a
