Scott sat, oblivious to the noise around him, which consisted of the chatter of some native women who eyed him curiously, and the loud gnawing of a goat inside a wooden crate. He watched the tip of Ebi disappear past the ferry’s right, and then lowered his head.
Just a little bit later, it seemed the boat was arriving at Quadraline. Quadraline was a much different island than the rustic Ebi. A U.S. Air Force base and the Marshall Islands’ largest airport rested here, making it the hub of the islands’ travel and commerce. Air Force MPs watched as the boat unloaded. Scott stepped onto the dock with the island women and the boat hands, who started unloading the fish crates with an old yellow hand cart. He looked very different from the sharp looking Air Force personnel. His curly red hair puffed above him and his worn clothes didn’t match their sharp uniforms.
Relieved not to see anyone familiar, Scott began to walk down the dusty street toward the airport and Air Force barracks. He had been to Quadraline, before so he knew where to go. As he walked, he noticed that his foot began to throb. He shifted his suitcase to the other side. Not much better. To his left, a row of houses stretched along the street. An Air Force engineer named Tom worked with the mission and lived in one of the homes next to the road. He had been helping coordinate the search for Janet. Scott glanced toward his house. He had been there for a get together before, on one of his weekends off. Janet had been there, too. Scott’s eyes misted at the memory. They had played Scrabble and eaten popcorn with the other students. A white government truck was now parked in the driveway. He stopped hesitantly. His foot was hurting. He knew they would give him a ride to the airport. Scott stood indecisive. He had worked with Tom’s wife, too. She was a small, quiet Indian woman. Scott remembered how she had come to Ebi several times to help in the school. She had been greatly appreciated. She had a soothing motherly presence that calmed the active native children.
Scott took one step, then hesitated. The white shaded porch looked so inviting. But he felt so depressed, he didn’t want her to see him cry. He turned back down the road. He didn’t want them to remember him like this.
Ten minutes later, and halfway to the airport, Scott began to wish he had stopped and asked for a ride. He was hot and thirsty and his foot caused him to limp.
“I’ll stop at the Air Force café and rest,” he decided. Only 3:20, and his plane didn’t leave until after 6:00. The café/commissary stood next to one of the runways. It was open to anyone who was on the island, many military contractors, and the island’s civilians were allowed to shop and eat there.
Scott walked toward the large gray building at the T in the road. The airport was behind the commissary and to its right. As soon as Scott stepped through the door, a refreshing wall of cool air hit him. He half-closed his eyes and let the cool air ruffle through his shirt. It had been a long time since he’d been in an air-conditioned building. He walked to an empty round table and sat down wearily. An officer glanced up at him curiously from another table where he was reading a magazine and sipping a Coke. A plate with a half-eaten burger and chips sat next to him.
Scott realized how thirsty he was, watching the man take a long sip from his refrigerated Coke. He stood and walked to the drink fridge, pulled a cold orange soda from the back rack and walked to the counter.
“That will be a quarter.”
Scott reached in his pocket, fumbled around, and handed her a quarter. “Thank you.” He walked back to his chair and sat, slowly drinking his soda and glancing around the store. Just like a grocery store with a military-like touch, no frills. On his side was a small deli and an area with black tables and chairs. The deli served sandwiches, hotdogs, and muffins, it looked like. Not much else.
After his drink, Scott walked back out into the hot street, feeling more refreshed. He hadn’t been hungry at all though, not normal for him.
“I must be too upset to be hungry,” he thought. The five minutes it took Scott to walk to the small civilian terminal passed slowly. The island’s palm trees swayed in the humid wind, and a sun shown down from a clear blue sky.
The civilian airport was a small brown building. A couple of parked taxis were in the small passenger pickup area. A dark-skinned man with a blue taxi hat relaxed in the shade of the building, smoking a cigarette.
He nodded politely to Scott as he limped up to the door. Scott pushed the glass door open and stepped into the seemingly dark airport office — the bright outside light made it seem dark. A single counter with a crooked Continental sign hanging above it stood by the luggage area. Another empty desk had Charter flights meet here, printed in bold letters above it. To the side, a door led out to the tarmac.
A woman with a Continental name tag sat on a stool behind the desk, reading a novel. She folded the page over and looked up at Scott. “Can I help you?”
“Yes.” Scott leaned against the counter. “I have a ticket on the 6:15 Continental flight to Guam.” Scott rummaged for his driver’s license. “I was told to get my ticket here.”
The lady took Scott’s ID, glanced at it briefly, and ran her finger down a list of names, “Hmmm, let’s see. Yes, you are on that flight.” She closed her ledger book. “Let me get you your ticket.” She disappeared through a door into a back office and left Scott standing by the desk.
She returned and handed Scott his ticket, “Just carry your bag out to the plane when it boards, and make sure to be here by 6:00. It’s 4:00 right now.” She smiled.
“Thanks, and do you have a pay phone?” Scott gripped his bag and looked hesitantly around the lobby.
“Yes, it’s outside and around the corner.” She pointed out the door.
Scott walked out the door again, carrying his suitcase and ticket under his arm. The taxi man tipped his hat to him as he walked past him toward the weathered phone booth. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted to Scott as he set his suitcase down and lifted the receiver. He took a deep breath, then hung the phone up again. He rummaged in his suitcase until he pulled out a small coin purse. He counted out dimes and nickels until he had a small handful, then set them by the phone. Calls to U.S. 10 cents a minute was written in black marker on a piece of paper taped across the top. He picked the phone up, took another deep breath, then punched in the familiar number. He waited, then dropped four dimes into the slot.
On the other end, he could hear it ringing. It rang three times, then Scott heard the phone being lifted from the hook. “Hello this is Robert, and with whom am I speaking?”
“Hi, Dad.” Scott gulped.
“Son, you better not be calling collect, I don’t have a money tree here.”
Scott tried not to sound hurt. “Dad, I’m paying for this call. I uh—”
“I’m glad to see you’re responsible enough to pay for your own long distance calls.” The voice was sarcastic.
Scott bit his lip. “Dad, just let me talk to Mom.”
“Hold on.”
Scott heard his Dad yelling faintly in the background, then a few seconds later he heard his mom’s voice.
“Hi, honey, how are you?” His mom sounded tired but glad to talk with him.
“Honestly, Mom, not that good.” Scott twisted the phone wire and tried to sit on his suitcase.
“Why, honey? What’s happened? I haven’t talked with you since April, that was the last time you called.” Her voice held a bit of hurt indignation.
“I know, Mom.” Scott fidgeted, “I haven’t been to Quadraline for a couple of months now.” How was he supposed to tell his mom that he didn’t like calling home? All the bad news only depressed him and made him angry, and his mom always complained to him about Dad. He felt like an emotional sewer drain every time he talked to her. His uncle Matthew had died five years ago when he was sixteen, but the family had never quite healed from its repercussions.
“What’s the problem?” Her voice bounced through his mind.
“Uh.” Scott gulped. He did not want to break down now. “I know this is abrupt, Mom, but I’m coming home. I got really sick from an infection so I’m flying to Guam where Uncle John is, then home to the States after I’m well.”
“Oh my!” she gasped. Her voice became angry again. “Why didn’t they call and tell us?”
Scott twisted the phone around his ear uncomfortably. “It’s probably because I forgot to put you on my emergency contact numbers list and they only had Uncle John’s.”
“Well, at least Uncle John could have called us!” Her voice sounded indignant.
“Mom, Mom,” Scott pleaded. “Please don’t get upset, I’ll be fine. I haven’t even talked to Uncle John myself, only our mission director did. Mr. Henrich just told me he’s expecting me and he’ll be waiting at the airport when I land.”
“I know why he didn’t call to tell us. He hasn’t spoken to us since Matthew’s funeral. He was very upset with Robert over what he said to him there.” Her voice came in a resolute tone, like she had just discovered something important.
“What was that?” Scott cradled the phone and dropped another dime in.
“Your dad told John that his brother, your Uncle Matthew, had been screwing you up with his out-dated biblical psychology, and that it was probably for the best that he had fallen and died. Of course, he said that before John was an Air Force Chaplain, and when he’d drunken one too many.”
“Dad said that?” Scott’s hand shook slightly. A tear suddenly tried to force itself from the corner of his eye. He wiped it away angrily.
“Oh, honey don’t be upset.” Her voice became soothing. “I just thought you should know what had happened so you don’t go in blind, you know as smart as a dove, as harmless as a snake, like your Uncle Matthew said.”
“Mom! You said it backwards. You don’t even know what it means!” Scott felt himself getting angry despite his weakened condition.
“Don’t be upset, dear. I didn’t mean to turn it around. Sometimes I’m dyslexic. But tell me what happened, I’m very concerned.”
Scott told his mom how he had cut his foot and the whole incident from beginning to end. “That’s all I know, Mom, it’s so bizarre,” he finished.
His mom’s voice came over the line “Scott, it’s so strange that you’re leaving so suddenly. I think something else has to be going on. Either that, or God really wants you to leave for some reason.”
Scott’s face tightened. “If God wanted me to leave, then I could just tell Him to go to hell!” Scott was surprised at the intensity of his words. “I love it here, Mom.” He stopped talking so that his voice could steady.
“Oh, don’t talk like that.” She sounded worried. “Do you need money, dear?”
“No, Mom,” Scott felt good to say that. “I’ve been saving the money I’ve earned these last six months, and I have enough.”
“Well, that’s a good thing then, because I wasn’t looking forward to asking Robert to wire you money. It seems money is becoming a real issue here lately.”
“Uh, huh,” Scott said. He was thinking about his dad’s remark about money when he first called.
“You know Matthew’s old construction company?”
“Yeah?” Scott was paying attention again.
“Your dad just loaned his old foreman, Owen, $200,000 to help pay for some big mistakes he’s made running it, and your dad’s practice has not been bringing in as much as normal.”
“Why did he loan that —” Scott searched for words, “guy money in the first place?” he demanded.
“Well you know how your Dad and Owen have always been real good buddies since high school.” She lowered her voice. “That’s how—”
“Mom, hold on.” Scott dropped a couple more coins into the slot. “I was low on minutes. Okay, continue.”
“Well, that’s how Owen got a job as Matthew’s foreman in the first place, because your dad recommended him. So when Matthew died and Owen took the company over, and of course married Matthew’s wife and everything, your dad wanted to help him out since he’s family now.”
“He’s not family,” Scott declared. “He married Aunt Tiffany way too soon after Matthews death, only two weeks, and I’m almost sure they were living together before that.” Scott paused. “So you’re saying that Owen has bankrupted Matthew’s business — which he stole — I mean didn’t deserve, and now Dad’s bailing him out?”
“He didn’t steal it, honey, it was his to take.”
“Whatever,” Scott muttered.
“Oh things aren’t the best around here,” she continued. “Aunt Tiff and Owen aren’t doing that well, either. I think they’re going through some marital stress. Aunt Tiff misses Matthew, is what I think it is.” She sighed. “It’s strange how she never got along with Matthew when they were married, but now she wishes she could go back.” Scott heard her breathing in the phone. “But your father knows how to help them, so I’m sure everything will be alright.”
“Just because Dad is a psychiatrist, doesn’t mean he knows everything,” Scott snapped. “He can’t put broken things back together.” He stopped. “I’m sorry, Mom, I just haven’t wanted to hear about this. That’s just one of the many reasons I love it out here.”
“Oh, Scott, everything will work out for the best, I’m sure.” Mom’s voice was soothing.
Scott heard someone shouting in the background. “Jean, are you still on the phone? I need your help.”
“Say goodbye to your dad, Scott.” Scott heard her hand the phone away. “Here, Robert, it’s Scott, say bye.”
“Hi, Scott.” His dad’s voice came over the phone. “So you’re sick, your mother says?”
Scott shifted legs. “Yes, but I’m getting better now, I’m sure Mom will tell you all about it.”
“Okay then. Well, take care of yourself.”
“Okay Dad, I’ll talk to you later.”
“All right, son. Bye.” The line went silent, and a dime rolled out of the change dish.
Scott felt relieved that he was going to Guam instead of straight home for some reason…
He hung up the phone. He closed his eyes and shook his head emphatically from side to side, as if to forget about the chaos he had just heard. He didn’t want to go back to that world. There were too many painful memories there. Scott felt a little bit between a rock and a hard place. Here in the islands, he had the pain of Janet’s death, and he had to leave now anyways. And he had just heard a sample of what he had at home. Maybe he needed to just go to a new place and start a new life. He was single and twenty-one.
Scott had a phone number scribbled in pencil on a small stub of paper. It was smudged and dirty from being in his pocket. Scott put his extra dime back in the phone. He paused. He hadn’t talked to his Uncle Matthew’s brother since the funeral, either. He wasn’t sure what to say, as he had only met him once.
Well, no time to worry about that now. Scott dialed the number and listened as the phone rang. Five times it rang, then a message machine answered. “Hello, you’ve reached the office of Chaplain John. I’m away from my office at the moment, but leave your name and phone number after the tone and I will return your call.”
Scott waited for the beep. “Hi, John, this is Scott,” he almost mumbled. “I’m coming in on Continental 63 at nine tonight. I’m looking forward to seeing you then.” Scott paused for a second, but his mind was blank, so he hung up the phone.
Scott felt the wind blowing gently against him. The air felt muggy. He looked up behind him and saw a large, dark billowing wall of clouds filling half the sky.
“That’s where the breeze is coming from,” he muttered. Even as Scott stood there watching, the clouds moved, rolling in gigantic billows, filling the clear blue sky.
He grabbed his suitcase and hurried around the side of the building into the airport office.
“Looks like a storm is coming.”
A gust of wind blew through the door as Scott entered. The lady looked up startled from her book. “Oh.” She stepped off her stool and looked out. “Why yes, it looks like it will rain.”
“That won’t delay anything will it?” Scott raised an eyebrow apprehensively.
The lady glanced at some charts she had. “We’ll see, but it shouldn’t. A lot of Air Force personnel are flying out on this flight, so I don’t think it will be canceled.”
“Summer vacation, is that where you’re going?”
Scott shook his head. “No, I’m flying to Guam to visit a relative.” He didn’t want to explain further.
“Oh, that’s nice. Guam’s a fun place to visit. If you get a chance, there’s some great diving there.”
“Okay.” Scott nodded. He didn’t want to talk about it. Walking to the window, he looked out on the tarmac. A few raindrops had been blown against the window, though the clouds hadn’t reached them yet.
He sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs, and watched as the clouds rolled forward in a misty advance, followed by a wall of water. The rain came in sheets down the runway, until the first gust hit the small airport with a loud watery hammering sound. Water ran down the window and around the ditches outside. Scott could hear lighting cracking and thunder rumbling outside.
Several vans pulled up outside, and some Air Force men came into the little airport. Some were laughing and joking with each other. Scott just sat by the window, watching the falling rain, shoulders slouched.
The chairs filled up around Scott. The Air Force men sat talking together, and a few men smoked outside under the canopy. A few minutes later, the airplane appeared from behind a mist of cloud and water, steeply cutting downwards, its landing lights blinking. It was a Boeing 737. The jet descended out of the clouds and bounced a couple of times at the end of the runway. It taxied to a stop just outside on the tarmac.
“Please be patient.” The Continental lady had switched into work mode. “We need to unload the passengers first, and take some luggage off before we can board. It will probably be about half an hour.” She was now helping a line of passengers get tickets, busily moving about.
A ramp opened from the side of the airplane and Scott watched as people began to come out. Some had umbrellas, and those who didn’t shared or hurried quickly to the terminal’s cover. Most looked to be military, but one stuck out vividly. A dark-haired woman wearing an attractive sweater stepped from the airplane. She started to hurry along the tarmac, but a man offered her his umbrella and they walked quickly into the airport, then separated. She walked over to an empty chair and plopped down, glancing around the lobby, catching Scott’s eye. Military men of all shapes and sizes stood waiting to board the plane, while others loaded into vans and taxis waiting outside. The lady must have been waiting to re-board, just like several others, Scott figured. He knew the planes hopped from island to island on their way to Guam, dropping off and picking up assorted tourists and military people.
In her seat, the woman was thinking. She sighed and glanced at the name. Quadraline Civil Airport. She shuffled through her ticket book. This was the last stop before Guam. Thank God!
Looking around the airport, she saw the familiar light blue uniforms, then curiously she saw a man sitting by the window. He had a red afro, and was wearing worn looking shorts and a white T-shirt. He obviously wasn’t from the Air Force.
I wonder if he’s a bum? she thought. She watched him a little longer, then looked away, not wanting to be caught staring.
“And now all our passengers who were already on Flight 63 to Guam may re-board,” the Continental woman announced through a raspy loudspeaker. She stood by the gate, glancing at tickets while the passengers fi led back outside and hurried back to the plane, holding umbrellas in an attempt to stay dry. A man at the door collected the umbrellas and returned them back so more groups could make the dash.
The lady with the dark hair stood and joined the rapidly shortening line. She couldn’t help but look curiously at the man with the red hair again. He had a sad look on his face, and his blue eyes seemed a little red. She felt a tinge of sympathy. He looked up and their eyes met briefly. She glanced away embarrassed, feeling her face flush.
“Can I see your ticket, Ma’am?” the stewardess asked her.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry,” she said, flustered. She handed the stewardess her ticket. “Have a pleasant flight.” The stewardess smiled and watched her hurry out to the airplane.
Soon the general boarding began. There were only about 20 people getting on now. Scott lingered despite the emptying line. He knew that once he walked up the ramp to the airplane, this world would close behind him, and he wanted to stay here for as long as possible.
He looked out the window. The weather seemed to match his feelings perfectly. Thunder in the distance, and wind blowing the rain sideways across the runway.
“Final call for Flight 63 to Guam. That would be you, sir.” The lady looked at Scott from behind her counter. Scott stood, gripped his suitcase and walked to the counter. He handed his ticket over, had it clipped, then walked out into the rain. A soaking attendant handed Scott an umbrella and helped him hurry to the airplane.
“May I stow your bag, sir?”
Scott let go of his bag and stepped inside the airplane.
He stood looking down a crowded aisle. The engines were warming up, and a flight attendant was latching the door behind him. Scott looked at his ticket. 32A. All the way to the back of the plane. He had to step sideways down the aisle. He felt very uncomfortable wading through the gauntlet of soldiers.
Scott moved to the back of the plane. 32B. There was the dark-haired lady.
“Excuse me, that’s my seat.” Scott motioned at his ticket.
Oh, that quaint fellow, she thought. She leaned back to avoid him brushing her as he squeezed past.
Scott sat down, leaned his head against the small oval window, and gazed into the rain. The tires had barely left the tarmac before they were over the ocean. He hardly noticed as rain and wind buffeted the wings. Clouds soon blotted out the ocean below as the airplane climbed. Scott felt dejected. He was wrapped up in his own world, oblivious to the woman next to him.
It seemed like only a minute had passed before Scott heard a voice. “Excuse me, would you like something to drink?”
Scott turned. He looked up at the stewardess. Scott began to decline, then he changed his mind. “I’ll take a glass of water.” He gripped the outstretched cup. “Thanks.” Scott turned back toward the window.
“So what are you doing out on these islands? I notice you’re not military like everyone else.” A female voice caused Scott to turn back.
He stared for a second. “No, I’m not military.” He stopped talking, then realized she was waiting for him to say more. “I’m a teacher at a mission school. Well, I was a teacher.” Scott looked away miserably.
“Why are you going to Guam?” This lady was persistent.
“I’m going because of an unfortunate series of events. I won’t bore you with them, though.” Scott looked back toward the window.
“Oh no, I’m interested.” The lady leaned forward. “My name’s Laura, what’s yours?”
“Scott.”
“So what is this long series of unfortunate events?” Her eyes sparkled ever so slightly.
This lady won’t quit, Scott thought. He glanced at her apprehensively, trying to decide how much to say. She waited, arms resting on her lap. “I was a teacher in the Marshall Islands at a mission school.” A shadow crossed his face “I cut my foot shark fishing. It got infected…” He told her a brief overview of how he had almost died. “So now I’m on my way home,” he finished.
She leaned forward, visibly trying to figure him out. Scott looked away.
“If you don’t mind me asking, is that the reason you’re so sad?”
“I seem sad?” he asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Yes, you don’t hide it well.” She shrugged.
“There is one thing.” Scott hesitated. “I don’t know.”
Laura drew back in her seat. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No it’s okay,” Scott said. “There was a girl.” He cleared his throat. “Her name was Janet. She died when our mission sailboat sank.”
“I’m so sorry,” Laura said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Scott settled in the seat. “It’s all right.”
“Excuse me, would you two like something more to drink?” The stewardess was back.
Laura and Scott looked up together. “No thanks,” they responded in unison.
The airplane was full of sleeping men now, and it was dark except for the soft glimmer of the moon reflecting on the plane’s wings. Scott looked out the small window.
Laura interrupted the silence. “Janet was very special to you wasn’t she?”
Scott nodded. “That’s why they made me leave, because things just fell apart after she died.” He didn’t tell her about Tony or hitting him with the chair. He didn’t know how well he could explain that.
“I understand how you feel.” Laura sighed. “You know, when your life feels like it’s just absolutely falling apart.” She seemed comfortable talking with him now. “Four years ago, I was divorced, and it was a rough road. I didn’t know things could get that bad. I drank a lot.” She paused, searching Scott’s face for interest. “Just six months ago, I found the Lord, and things have been going uphill since then.” She chatted on, telling him about her life, and how she had quit drinking.
Scott watched her quietly. For some reason listening to her helped him get out of his shell. “So why are you flying to Guam?” he asked.
“To visit my brother in the Air Force. I felt like I needed to get away from Idaho.” She continued, telling him about her nursing job. The plane was slanting downwards.
“All passengers, please remain seated, we are on our final approach.”
Laura looked up startled. “That was sure quick.”
People started stirring as the plane descended to the glittering lights below.