Unbroken Connection (24 page)

I don’t think so tonight. She says it’s up to me, but I say it’s up to her. I don’t expect her to be Suki swimming like a fish, diving like she was born in the water. How can she expect me to be her dad or Phil—praying, blessing stuff? Maybe I can master the basics like Leesie has with scuba, but it will never be a part of me like she wants. I could fake it, but love built on lies dies quickly. What we have is too precious. I won’t destroy it. But if I’m honest, and she’s honest and accepts me like I accept her—that would work. I have to convince her it will work.

I hear someone up in the galley and slide out of my hammock. Tiptoe so I don’t wake Claude.

It’s Suki. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jams like any normal girl. Very unprofessional. She’s sitting at a table holding a cup of tea against her face.

“Hey.”

She turns at my voice. And flips back around. “Go away, Michael.”

Too late. I already saw the angry red contusion blooming beneath her eye. “What the hell happened?”

Her cup is full of ice,. She presses it gingerly against the welt. “I ran into the door.”

“Freak, Suki. It’s me.”

She turns her face to the wall. “I’m fine. Go away.”

“Did the door hit you anywhere else?” She doesn’t answer. “This is my job. I’m responsible for first aid. Want some O2?”

She laughs, but it ends in a gasp.

I pull away the cup and examine her face. “You need a lot more ice on that.” I go to the galley and dump the icemaker into a restaurant sized metal bowl, switch it on so there’s plenty of ice for tomorrow and grab a handful of the cook’s old bread bags.

Back at the table Suki’s eyes seep and her nose runs, but she holds herself together. I make a big pack of ice for her and hold it on her face. She starts and moans.

“It kills at first, but it’ll feel better in a minute. Stops the bleeding, too.”

“Bleeding? I’m not bleeding.”

“Under the skin. You take this.” I place her hand on the ice pack and go over to the coffee counter, grab a stack of napkins. “Here.”

She wipes her eyes and nose.

I fill another bag and hand it to her. She uses her free hand to hold it to her side under her breast. She gasps.

“More?”

She simply turns her back to me.

I raise the back of her shirt. There’s a nasty mark on her left hip and a couple on her back. I fill two more bags—make one big enough to cover both back bruises. I sit down in a chair next to her. I hold the ice to her back and hip. She starts again and lets a tiny whimper escape her clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry, Suk. Freak, does he do this often?”

She doesn’t answer. Maybe she can’t.

“Are you in pain?”

She shakes her head, but moans with the effort.

“Just rest. I’ll look after you.”

She smells amazing tonight. She’s coated in some exotic oil. Floral with some kind of spice to it. I close my eyes and get lost in free dive cycles. She follows my lead, breathes with me like Leesie used to. “That’s good, relax.”

The ice pack on her hip slips, and my fingers brush her skin. They are going numb. She’s shivering.

She cranks her head and bats her implanted eyelashes at me. “Enough?”

“I don’t think so.”

I get up and toss throw-cushions off an upholstered bench. Then I take the ice from her and help her lie down. I dump the melting stuff, refill the bags, search the galley for dishtowels that don’t stink, wrap the ice packs in them, and place them around her body. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

I whip down to my cabin and grab the sheets and light blanket I never use off my hammock.

Claude raises up on his elbows. “Merd, man. Can’t you be quiet about it?”

“He beat her to pieces, you creep.”

Claude’s on his feet, grabs his bedding, too.

We get back to the galley, and she’s gone.

I can’t believe she went back in that cabin with him. Maybe he’s passed out, sleeping it off.

Claude and I go right up there and pound on the door for like ten minutes.

No answer.

“Knock it off.” Claude grabs my hand. “We’ll wake up the whole boat.”

“Good.”

“How would that humiliation be good for her?”

“Everyone will see tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so. Leave her alone.”

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

D
IVE
B
UDDY
: Suki

D
ATE
: 12/25

D
IVE
#: 2,276

L
OCATION
: Mergui Archipelago

D
IVE
S
ITE
: MacLeod Island

W
EATHER
C
ONDITION
: sunny

W
ATER
C
ONDITION
: flat calm

D
EPTH
: surface

V
ISIBILITY
: incredible

W
ATER
T
EMP
.: 84

B
OTTOM
T
IME
: 45 minutes

C
OMMENTS
:

Claude’s right. This morning, Christmas Day here, Max is up ready to dive. No Suki. “She’s lazy today. Sleeping, the silly bi—”

“Don’t call her that.” I glare at Max, and he gets that I know. “As ship’s first aid officer, I have to report all injuries.”

Max’s face splits open in an ugly grin. “You want to see the scratches on my back?”

I walk away before I punch him in the face or puke on his feet.

We dive Shark Cave. Suki still doesn’t show at lunch. But as we pass MacLeod Island on our way out to Black Rock, a passenger spots a cluster of rough looking wood boats gathered close to an island about a mile distant. Captain Jean kills the engine instantly.

“Launch the Zodiac, Claude.” He and the deck hands race to get the boat in the water.

It makes me sick. The Moken people are shy, private. Then I think of Suki. I run to her cabin. “Suk, it’s me. Come quick. You got to see this.”

She opens the door. The giant square dark sunglasses she’s wearing almost cover the purple bruise on her face. “These are real diamonds.” She runs her fingers over the tiny sparkling design on the corners of her glasses. “Beautiful, no?”

“Never mind. Look.”

Her cabin is on the highest deck except for the pilothouse. She stares at the gathered kabang, shrieks, and jumps. Head first. Perfect dive.

Freak. I jump in after her. Feet first. Not perfect.

She swims too fast. I’d need fins to keep up with her. She’s in a kabang chattering away in her native tongue with old women and a bundle of kids swarming and squealing by the time I make it to a low-slung wood boat with a ramshackle plank roof over the back half. A couple of kids help me over the side. One old woman stands up and calls. Another woman in a kabang farther off mimics her. Putt-putt motors start, sails are flung and a flotilla zeroes in on our boat.

“Is this your family?”

Suki grabs my arm, excited. “No. I really am an orphan—like I said, but we are all kin.” Tears fill her eyes. “All Moken are my family.”

I take in the scene. A woman with a cloth skirt tied to her waist squats over a pot and stirs something. Children jump off the back of the kabang. Swimming around the boat—as easy in the water as Suki is. Hand-carved dugouts that look like they came from a Native American museum are tied to the back and along the side. A brown, tattered sail hangs limp on a thin pole. There isn’t much in the boat. Nets, shells, a pot, a gas stove. A few wet lengths of cloth hanging to dry in the sea breeze. Nothing, but everything.

A huddle of children, wet from the sea, gathers around Suki. She puts her arms around their skinny shoulders and holds them close. Tears stream down her disfigured face. “I am home.”

I look back at the Zodiac coming closer and closer. Swallow my own emotion. “Are you staying?”

She looks at me, startled, and then a brilliant smile dawns across her face. “Of course. Yes.” She flashes her rings—safely back on her fingers. “Good thing I carry my fortune with me.” She hugs me, kisses me once, and pushes me overboard. “They’re coming. You have to stop them.”

I hear the whine of the Zodiac’s outboard motor.

“Listen.” She stands up, lifts a toddler onto her hip. “If she doesn’t say ‘yes’, come back.”

I wave to her and swim toward the black Zodiac.

I get about 100 yards before they spot me. Claude pulls up and cuts the motor to pick me up. I take my time—listen as Suki’s new family starts up their tiny motor and moves off toward the bigger group of kabang.

“What the hell, Michael?” Claude steers the Zodiac around so I can climb in the side.

I flop on the floor of the raft. “You can’t come any closer.”

Max hovers over me. “They have Sukanda.”

“She’s Moken.” Everyone in the boat looks confused. “Sea Gypsy. She’s one of them. This is her family. They don’t allow visitors. Put that freaking camera down.” This major annoying woman who is always making me pose with everyone has a telephoto lens that could see to China.

“She is my woman.” Max doubles up his fist.

“No, she’s not.” Hit me you, freak. Hit me. I don’t care if you kill me as long as I make you hurt.

He turns to Claude. “Go after her. I demand it.”

“We operate here under strict agreements not to bother the Moken. I’m sorry sir.” I’m pretty sure that’s a big lie. They brag about Moken encounters on their website, but it sounds good.

Max jumps up making the Zodiac quake. The camera woman screams. Max shakes his fat fist at Claude. “Take me over there, damn you.”

I scramble to my feet, balancing in the shifting boat. Claude and I make a stand, shoulder to shoulder with our fists in our hands. The dingy jerks under our weight and that stupid woman shrieks again.

I stare that creep jerk down. “I wouldn’t go near them. Not the way she looks today.”

“They are a bunch of scrawny little pygmies.”

“With long sharp spears they throw at sharks. Harpooning season never closes here.”

Max’s face gets redder and redder. His fists remain clenched. Claude and I are ready to pitch him overboard if he starts anything. He wants to kill us, but he can’t. He’s European. Civilized. Freaking modern day slaver.

But today, Suki—or whatever her true name is—won.

I sense something. A familiar scent. Gardenias. My mom’s perfume. She whispers something to my heart I can’t quite catch. But I feel it. Love. So pure—like I felt in the water after the memorial service.

I smile and whisper back, “Merry Christmas.”

Chapter 26

COMMITTED

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 12/30 4:15 AM