“Ijab konaan,” Perkaj cried, sitting at the table with his tester and insulin pen in front of him. “Emetak.” He rubbed his face with his hands, smearing the dust from an afternoon of active play into gray streaks on his skin.

Of course he didn’t want it.  Of course it hurt.

Jamie looked up at me, his eyes full of compassion and desperation.  We had to get Perkaj to buy in to his own health if we were ever going to get our own lives back.  

All of a sudden I had an idea.  I grabbed a syringe from my black medical kit and a vial of sterile saline.

“How many carbs are you going to eat, Meester Shamie?” I asked him. He eyed the syringe and then looked back at me, narrowed eyes giving way to a tiny smile of understanding.

He took a deep breath, looking at the soup and muffins on the table. “Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, “I  know I’m hungry, and I’m lukuun kilep, so I’ll have five servings… some noodle soup and three muffins. How about you, Miss Peachay?”

“Oh, I’m not very hungry,” I responded. “When it’s hot like this, ijab konaan moni, so I’ll have three.”

Without looking off to the side at Perkaj, I picked up the tester, a strip and a lancet. “I wonder what my blood sugar is right now,” I mused. I pricked my finger, the sudden shock of pain giving me shivers, then pressed the drop of blood to the testing strip. “Eighty-five,” I remarked.  “That’s good for before a meal.”

Jamie took the tester I offered him and did the same. He winced and stuck his finger in his mouth after he’d touched it to the testing strip. “Seventy-six? No wonder I’m starving!” He passed the tester on to Perkaj, who had grinned at Jamie’s over-the-top reaction to the prick of the lancet and blood on his finger.

“Okay,” I said. “Five servings means five units.”  I held the vial up as I inserted the syringe and drew out several milliliters of saline. Then I handed the syringe to Jamie.

Up until then he’d been playing along with me.  When I handed him the needle his face drained of color. His raised eyebrows communicated clearly, “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Perkaj had tested his sugar and was already clicking the units into his insulin pen.

“One for being little high,” he murmured to himself. “And tree for carbs.”  He screwed on the fresh needle tip and looked over at Jamie. “Why you waiting, Baba Shamie?”

Jamie frowned. “Ijab konaan,” he said, his eyes showing some genuine fear. “Enaj metak.”

Perkaj’s response was adorable.  He patted Jamie’s arm like I’d seen my husband do to him  countless times over the last few weeks. “Is okay, Baba,” he said reassuringly, shaking his head. “It not hurt forever.”

After that, there was no way Jamie was going to let his fear of pain stand in his way.  

“Let’s do it together,” he said.  “Will you count?”

“Juon, ruo, jilu,” Perkaj counted.  On ‘three’ both boys jabbed themselves with their needles and pressed down on the plungers.  They made faces at each other as they did, and when the syringe and insulin pen were returned to the table, Jamie pulled the little guy in for a hug.

“You’re so brave!” He exclaimed. Perkaj grinned and grabbed a muffin.

Out of necessity we discovered that about five minutes after Perkaj fell asleep he would be dead to the world for a solid fifteen minutes.  If we’d saved enough energy, we could engage in a clandestine lovemaking session, covered by the bedsheet, trying to keep the bed frame from squeaking or the headboard from banging against the wall.

Unfortunately, I was gun shy after our ‘coitus interruptus’ and Jamie seemed to be internalizing the stress of parenthood even more than I was. He was still affectionate, and would frequently wrap his arms around me for a hug, come up behind me when I was doing dishes and rub my shoulders, or pull my head to his chest when we lay next to each other in bed reading.  But after my experience being married to him thus far, it wasn’t like him. It was surprising that Jamie wasn’t lusting after me, wasn’t taking liberties with my body, wasn’t making it clear he wanted nothing more than to have me naked.  

Perhaps even more disturbing to me, I was okay with the lack of sex. I tried to reassure myself.  Jamie and I were still cooperating with each other, accomplishing an important thing.   We were still working together, laughing together.  Despite the inconvenience, Perkaj was adorable and Jamie was adorable with him. But both of us were exhausted at night. We were all sleeping in the same room; less alone time meant fewer opportunities when the same idea would strike both of us, when raised eyebrows or a simple caress would be the snowflake that started an avalanche.

But as my dad had said, this was ‘just a season.’

And what a season.  Along with the hot, dry conditions that made it challenging to keep my garden healthy and brought the mamas to clinic fanning themselves and telling me they were lukuun bwil, the level of the catchment continued to drop until the bucket would scrape against the cement bottom of the tank when we drew our drinking water.

One afternoon after school Perkaj announced that he was going to stay and help Baba Shamie cut the grass.  Apparently he and Jamie had been talking on their walk home and Jamie had shared his plans for the afternoon.

“Ikonaan jibaneke,” Perkaj said.  “I want help you!”

Perkaj helped me water my plants and then used the hand-held grass clippers to assist Jamie by trimming the grass near our outbuildings and well.  Jamie used an old school scythe to cut the grass, a wicked looking curved blade on a long wooden handle with two grips.  When he held it on his shoulder as he headed out to the field, he looked like a tropical themed version of the Grim Reaper, with khaki shorts, a tee shirt, and flaming red hair.

I followed the boys as they worked, using a rake to heap up the grass and lift it into our wheelbarrow. Jamie had decided that composting was a necessity to increase the quality of our soil, so we were layering grass clippings with palm fronds and kitchen waste in a heap in the back corner of the property.

I was across the yard when two girls walked hesitantly up to Jamie.  He leaned on his scythe, giving them his attention.

“Meester Shamie,” one of them said, “we no have water to drink.  Our catchment is emmat...empty?

Jamie looked at them, at their water container, and at the big jug by the still, three quarters full from the days’ filtration. He glanced at me.

“Of course,” I insisted, “we have enough to share.”

As Jamie poured water into their bottles, I crossed the yard to the well. Someone would need to draw more well water to refill the solar still.

Through the sunny hours of the day while Jamie was teaching, I had taken it upon myself to keep the reservoir of the still filled with enough well water to keep the trickle of distilled water constantly flowing. When one water jug was filled, I would transfer the hose to the next jug and place the cap on the now-full container.

“Jibaneke?” The little voice asked from behind me. “I help you, Mama Peach?”

Perkaj might have been only seven, but he was an expert at the wrist flick necessary for getting water from the well, and the rapid hand -over -hand motion to bring up a full coffee can. He filled the five gallon bucket in half the time it would take me, then beamed up at me as we carried the bucket together to pour into the solar still.

He stood up on his tiptoes to peek through the sloped glass cover. “Well water enana?” he questioned, brown furrowed.  

“Is it bad?” I responded. “Not bad.  Just doesn’t taste good  for drinking .”

“But Mama Peach,” he said with his forehead wrinkled, “Aolep well water,” Perkaj said.  

It was all well water? I didn’t understand what he meant. Rupert had brought the lower grades over to teach them a lesson about the solar still and evaporation, so I had seen them peering in interest at the setup. I was sure Rupert had explained how the process removed minerals, salt, and impurities from the water.

“Ke?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

He showed the motion of the water with his hands -- the upward wafting of moisture, at which he said, “Well water,” then indicated the abrupt stop at the sloping glass, “Well water also” and then showed the drops falling into the collection channel. “Aolep well water,” he finished, holding up his hands as if to encompass the whole water cycle.

“Well, not exactly,” I tried to explain, hesitantly trying out my baby Majel.  “This is a small version of how the earth makes fresh water.  When the water goes into the air, it leaves behind germs and salt and bitter minerals.  Do you see the white crust on the black fabric?  That's the bad part-what was left behind.”

Perkaj peered into the still through the condensation -covered glass curiously.  “Oh.” He exclaimed, wide eyed.  I wasn’t sure he’d understood, but at least I’d tried.

The day stayed hot past sunset, the air barely holding any humidity.  Without a breeze, the house didn’t cool off even when it got dark.  Jamie had tried to cuddle me, but any place our skin contacted we would stick together, and any movement would feel like trying to detach from an octopus.

Perkaj was snoring quietly in his bed when Jamie got up and headed to the door, shoving his feet into his flip flops.  He headed outside without an explanation; I figured he needed the restroom.  

I was lost in my book when I startled at a faint sound behind me. Was that shifting gravel outside the window? I paused to listen. We’d opened the curtains because it was so damn hot, but that meant anyone outside would be able to see me… and could see that Jamie wasn’t here with me.  Still, none of the island men would even try to  bother me.  I wasn’t a single woman anymore, and they wouldn’t dare insult Meester Shamie…

“Tssst tssst,” a voice hissed from outside the window.  “Tssst tssst.” I pretended not to hear them, hoping inwardly that Jamie would return any minute and this person would fade away into the night and stop embarrassing themselves.

“Miss Peachay,” the voice sang, “I want to talk to you.  Tssst tssst.  You want to go to the shungle with me? Kwe konaan bwebwenato?”

As the invitations continued, I turned slowly to squint out the window.  The light from the apartment shone faintly on the pole supporting the short wave radio antenna.  There was a large hand gripping the pole, and next to the hand… there was curly red hair.

“You dip wad!” I hissed.  “I nearly peed my pants!”

“Shhhh,” he responded.  “Grab a quilt.  Come to the shungle with me.”

Perkaj was sleeping, so I figured what the heck.  I obeyed, grabbing a quilt and the mosquito net, turning off the lamp, shoving my feet into zories, and joining Jamie on the road in front of the clinic.

“Come on,” he whispered, taking me by the hand and leading me across the road.  There was only a little sliver of moon, but it was enough to keep us from crashing into trees as we wove deeper into the ocean-side palm forest.  

We got far enough that we couldn’t see the clinic light anymore, and giggled as we spread out the quilt and covered ourselves with the mosquito net.  

Out of the house it was actually cooler, and I sighed in relief as I looked up at the stars, Jamie’s arm behind  my head.

I couldn’t help it, laying on that quilt, covered by that mosquito net, looking up at those stars. “Oh, Frank…” I breathed.

My husband froze, and then he reacted. “Oh, you did not just call me Frank,” Jamie exclaimed.  I giggled as he rolled over on top of me.  “You take that back,” he ordered, his hand forcing its way under my tank top.

I laughed again, meeting his lips with mine, helping him peel off his shirt, wriggling out of my shorts and panties.

It had been so long and the circumstances were so novel I was fully engaged, blissful at his hands on me,  kissing his neck, reaching for him with my hand.  I attempted to change positions, to urge him inside, but he seemed determined to dominate me, insistent.

His hands were on my breasts and then his mouth was, teasing my nipples, biting them gently.   His hands were on my thighs and he was between my legs.  But he seemed to just be teasing me, pressing his pelvis towards me but then pulling away as I opened to him.

I realized he was waiting for something.

I took a deep breath. “I know who you are,” I whispered.  “Jamie.  Soulmate.  True love.  Partner.”

He paused, relaxed against me, kissed me gently between phrases.

“Provider,” I continued. “Protector. Gift of Providence.  Father of my babies. Friend.  Jimjeran.”

When we joined, finally, I was crying. I reached up and found his face, placing my hands on his cheeks, keeping his lips on mine as we moved together, as we connected, as we bonded ourselves together once again.

The whine of mosquitoes chased us inside, but not before we heard a wolf whistle from Anni and Kona’s yard as we crossed the road in front of the clinic. “Miss Peachay, Meester Shamie!” She exclaimed.  “You go to shungle?”

We headed inside to the sound of her laughter.

The next morning as we were getting ready for work and school, I noticed Jamie scratching himself rather intently  on the ass.  

“Hey Meester Shamie,” I joked, “How did you get a mosquito bite?”

     Perkaj’s dark eyes sparkled with delight as he glanced back at me.  He crouched to come close to me and exclaimed above the roar of the engine and surf.  “We go to your house now!”

     “We will also see your mama and baba,” I said.

     At that, he looked giddy.  “I miss them,” he admitted, then with a smile at me went back to sit with Jamie.

     He was equally excited during the bumpy ride in the back of the pickup truck from Arno Arno to Ine.  I realized from his enthusiastic reactions to everything we saw that he must have had no memory of his own truck ride to the air strip and plane ride to Majuro, and that this could be his first adventure outside the confines of the island.

     “Let’s stop at Perkaj’s house first,” Jamie suggested as we neared Ine.  I watched Perkaj’s face as we got closer, sharing in his joy as we pulled up to park on his property.  Our call to the Iroij had the desired effect, as the boy’s family members came spilling out of the house to greet him.  His mama was in tears, holding him by the cheeks and gazing into his face, clucking at how much weight he had lost but obviously pleased to see him looking healthy again.  His father smiled gravely as he shook Jamie’s hand.

     They invited us to come in, and we entered their house, nodding at the relatives we found already inside.  Perkaj’s mother and father ushered us to a pandanus mat and tried to urge food on us.  Jamie gestured to his stomach and explained that he was full and couldn’t eat anything.  I had a feeling that his stomach was still churning from the boat ride despite motion sickness pills.

     I could pick out the occasional word as Jamie explained everything to them.  At his invitation, Perkaj joined us on the mat and pulled out his zippered kit with lancets, tester, and insulin.  At Jamie’s nod, he took a testing strip and inserted it into the tester.  The room was silent as he twisted the plastic tip off the lancet, but there was a chorus of gasps as he poked his own finger and then touched the droplet of blood to the testing strip. Quiet murmurs followed, but when the tester beeped with the results, Perkaj held it up not to show his parents, but Jamie so he could see the LCD readout.

     “Emmon, good,” said Jamie. “120. Show Baba and Mama.” 

     Perkaj scrambled over to them, squatted between them, and pointed and explained as he looked at the monitor.

     I noticed that Maria was hanging back at the side of the room, so as the attention of the crowd was on Perkaj, I motioned to her to come outside.  She hung her head shamefacedly, not meeting my eyes.

     “I am not good aunt,” she muttered.

     “Yes you are,” I said.  “You came with Perkaj to Majuro.  It is very hard to take care of someone with diabetes.  You remember I am a nurse, so I can help Perkaj until he can manage it himself, but you can be a helper to him when he comes back home.”

     Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced quickly up at me.  “Jolok bod,” she said.  “Is bad he live in your house? You and Meester Shamie are just married.  Is not time for nin-nins yet.”

     “Ejjelok bod.  It’s okay,” I said, trying as hard as I could to mean it.

      Before long, Jamie had made our excuses, Maria helped me grab a few more pairs of clothing for Perkaj, and we had our driver take us the rest of the way to the clinic. Coming around the side of the truck, I felt a hand on my arm. It was Jamie, concern on his face. “Are you all right, hen?” he asked. Perkaj was pulling his backpack out of the truck, his focus elsewhere.

     “Honestly? A little terrified,” I answered, meeting Jamie’s eyes. “Wondering how we’re going to manage all of this along with the rest of our lives.”

     “Just do the next right thing,” Jamie said. “That’s what my da used to say when Jenny, Willie or I were overwhelmed by a task.”

     I took a deep breath, grabbed my suitcase and swung it out of the bed of the truck.

     “Well,” I said, with a hesitant smile at Jamie, “let’s get inside and make a spot for Perkaj.”

     After dropping my luggage by the kitchen table, I went around the apartment opening up the louvered windows and curtains which had been closed for more than a week. Without a breeze to move the air it made little difference.  It was still stuffy and hot. 

     Perkaj wandered around the apartment, stopping in front of the pantry with its rows of cans and tubs of dry goods.  “Ebol mona,” he marveled, opening his arms to show how much food we seemed to have.

     “Eh bowl?” I asked Jamie. “I know mona is food.”

     “It means full… a lot.”

     After pulling our bed closer to the west wall of the apartment, Jamie moved the couch to create a barrier between the table and the back wall to give Perkaj a spot of his own.

     Glancing at me occasionally, Jamie set up the space.  He pulled a quilt from our storage tub, folded it several times and laid it on the floor, topping it with the pandanus mat Perkaj’s mom had carefully rolled up for her son. I pulled one of the extra pillows from our bed and put on a fresh pillowcase, handing a sheet to Jamie to put on top of the mat.

      Looking through the back window, I caught sight of my raised beds. Having seen the dry yellow grass along the sides of the road , the drooping palm fronds and wilting jungle plants on the way from Arno Arno, I’d had a sinking feeling. I still saw green peeking up above the wooden walls of the beds, so I invited Perkaj out to see my plants.

     Though most of the plants looked a little limp, as I dug down into the soil surrounding them I discovered that just an inch under the surface of the ground there was moisture.  It was only a minute later that Anni wandered over.

     “Meester Shamie asked me to water the plants,” she said, smiling. Perkaj stood up on tiptoes to peek into the box, then grabbed the bucket to go to the well.  He lugged it back having to use both hands to carry it, water sloshing out on his feet.  But he was fascinated and helpful as we dipped cups of water and gently poured them at the base of each plant.

     By the time we went back inside, Jamie had stretched wire from one rafter to the other and was hanging up a sheet to separate Perkaj's little room from ours.

     “Let’s do coconut rice and fish,” Jamie suggested, nodding towards our little visitor. He had reached into the dresser, grabbed swim trunks, and was about to drop his pants when he thought again.  

     “Do you want to see how yer bed feels?” He asked Perkaj, rattling off the translation in Majol afterwards. Once Perkaj had rounded the curtain, Jamie whipped off his clothing and pulled on the trunks, his back to the room.  After a pleasant eyeful, and having never seen the man sheepish about being naked, I couldn’t help but chuckle.  Perkaj was still happily sitting on his bed, setting his zoo of stuffed animals around the perimeter when Jamie joined me in the kitchen.

     “Obviously, I need to rethink the space,” he whispered. “No’ enough privacy yet,”

     “You think he’s never seen a naked man before?” I asked in an undertone.

     “Aye, I’m sure the lad has, but he doesna need to be subjected to the vision of a large, naked white Scotsman.”

     “That would be a traumatizing nightmare,” I joked.  Jamie smirked, kissed me, and headed out the door with his fish spear.

     “Itok, Perkaj,” I called out. “Can you help me find a coconut for the rice?”

      Prepping dinner took a good hour, followed by testing his blood sugar, giving Perkaj short-acting insulin, measuring portions, eating, and cleaning up after the meal. By 7:45 I couldn’t tell who was more exhausted--us or Perkaj. Jamie meticulously wrote down everything in the blood sugar/insulin log, and then we met each other’s eyes, an identical question on our faces.  “What now?”

     We were used to freedom in the evenings, our time being our own to read or write letters, to flirt and joke and laugh, to kiss and cuddle, to freely shed our clothing and make as much noise as we wanted.  But now there was an unfamiliar guest in our sacred space. 

     For the first time, I thought I saw it register on Jamie’s face-the sense of anxiety and discomfort I was feeling. But then he frowned determinedly and turned to Perkaj.

     “Ej awa in kiki,” he said.  “It’s time to sleep.  What do mama and baba do to help you rest?”

     “Erro bwebwenato,” Perkaj replied. His voice held a tinge of sadness.

     “They tell you a story?” Jamie repeated, translating. “Well, come & lie down in your bed, and I’ll tell ye a story.  I have one that’s called Jock & his Mother.”

     We turned on a lamp by our bed and turned off the main lights.  While the boys were on one side of the sheet I put on my pajamas, choosing a longer pair of shorts in case Perkaj saw me in the morning. 

     The story was a little like one I’d heard before, where a simple-minded boy keeps following his mother’s advice a bit too late.  Jock brings home a needle in a bundle of hay, and his mother tells him he should have put it in his hat.  The next day he brings home a plough, and following his mother’s advice, puts it on his hat.  Of course, it’s so heavy it falls into the river. 

     “She said to him, ‘You silly boy!  Ye should have tied a rope to it and pulled it behind you!’” Jamie said, giving the mother the voice of an old crone.  Perkaj giggled.

     “The next day,” Jamie said, “The boy earned a leg o’ mutton... well, they dinna have those on Arno, so maybe it was a… roasted chicken. What do you think he did with it?”

     “Tie it with rope?” Perkaj offered.

     “And pulled it all the way home!” Jamie answered. The answering peal of laughter made me smile.  I sat on the bed, arms hugged around my knees.  All this time I hadn’t realized this talent of Jamie’s.  My only bedtime story from him had been the boring recitation of Scottish history.

     Poor Jock tried to carry a horse on his shoulder and then rode a cow, which of course helped a sad princess to laugh and so they got married.  Jamie slowed his sentences and lowered his voice as the story continued, and just before I heard the floor creak with the movement of Jamie pushing himself up off the floor, I heard a little voice murmur something in Marshallese.

     Jamie crept around the curtain, smiling when he saw me.  He joined me on the bed and was reaching for a book when I whispered, “What did he say?  I didn’t hear him well enough.”

     I could have sworn there was a little mist in Jamie’s eyes as he answered.  “He said ‘Ainikiom ekakiiki ao.’” He paused, the effort of translating wrinkling his forehead.  “It means,” he blushed and met my eyes. “The sound of your voice lulls my soul to sleep.”

     I felt a lump in my throat, the sting of tears in my own eyes as I leaned my head on Jamie’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss onto my forehead and wrapped an arm around me.

     “Tired?” he asked.

     “Exhausted,” I answered.

     “I don’t even think I can read tonight,” he said, reaching over me to turn off the lamp.

     “I won’t argue with that,” I responded, getting up to turn the covers down and pull up the single top sheet. It was still hot and windless.

     Jamie cuddled me for a moment when he got under the covers, but then pulled away.

     “It’s so hot,” he groaned. “I’m missing air conditioning already.”

      It was pitch black inside and out when I startled awake.

     “I want to go home,” a small voice quavered.  “Ikonaan mama im baba.  In my house, my brother sleeps next to me,” Perkaj cried.  “I am alone here.”

     “Jab jan”, Jamie said reassuringly.  “Don’t cry.  Here.  You can sleep next to me.”

     He flipped on the lamp, pushed the sheet out of the way, pulled the mat over until it was touching the side of our bed and tucked Perkaj in again.  Jamie then got into bed, kindly turning toward the little boy and scooting closer to the edge that faced him.

     For the next few minutes, I could hear Marshallese as Jamie murmured reassurances to Perkaj.  The low rumble of foreign speech patterns soothed me as well, and soon I fell back asleep.

      In the predawn hours, I was awakened by large, warm hands that gently stroked my back.  They found their way to the tight muscles of my neck and shoulders, then ran fingers through my hair to massage my scalp.

     I shivered at a kiss on my shoulder blade, at which Jamie scooted closer to me and put his arm over me.

     “Cold, hen?” he asked.

     “Actually, no,” I said, smiling to myself.

     “Me neither,” he whispered, a hand meandering down my side, lazily tracing the waistband of my shorts before slipping fingers under the elastic.

     “Whatcha doing?” I whispered playfully, rolling toward him and being rewarded by an enthusiastic caress of my breast and a thorough kiss.

     “Dying,” was Jamie’s response. “A busy week at your parents’ house, then sleeping apart from ye at the hospital, and now we have an instant son? God, I'm starving for ye.”

     No words were needed to tell him I felt the same.  I’d been trying not to be selfish and resentful, but it was challenging to not feel deprived and disconnected.

     I helped him finish what he had started, wriggling out of my shorts and kicking them onto the floor, then climbing atop Jamie, who made quick work of pulling off my tank top over my head, throwing it to the side to join its companion on the floor.

     “Ifrinn,” he gasped as I used a hand to guide him in, lowering myself onto him.

     Perkaj won’t wake up, I assured myself, confident the darkness would hide us.  He was turned away from us anyway, his breath coming out in a low, even snore. I leaned toward him just to make sure he wasn’t looking in our direction.

     Jamie must have noticed my movement because he hissed under his breath, “It won’t be the first time he’s heard these noi…  Oh, God… oh, Christ...”

     I put my hand over his mouth, increasing my pace. I was close, he was close, and then, a plaintive voice interrupted the process.  “Meester Shamie?”

     I froze. Jamie desperately tried to hold my hips to keep me in place, but I was instantly out of the mood, melting down next to Jamie like an ice cube on a hot car.

     “No no no no no no no…” Jamie pleaded. I pulled the sheet up, panting.  “Bollocks,” he swore, then modulated his voice after a deep sigh.  “Ijin,” he said calmly, rolling away from me toward Perkaj.  “I’m right here.”

Next up on Island Hopper:

“Ye just need to find a reason to do your final film project out on Arno,” Jamie told him after pounding him on the back affectionately. “Then it willna be as long before we get to jog together again.”

“You look out for my sister,” Shelly ordered Jamie as she hugged me.  “After what we’ve been studying in my global climate class, I’m worried about this upcoming storm season.”

We were waiting in the TSA line when John and Joe came rushing down the hall.  I did a double take when I realized John didn’t have a bit of luggage with him.

At Jamie’s curious shrug and the question in his eyes, John blushed.

“I changed my flight,” he explained.  “I was going to be flying back today, but I… we…” He glanced over at Joe.

“What the…?” I blurted out, looking from John to Joe and then back again. I’m sure my confusion was written all over my face, but so were my matchmaking suspicions.

Joe put his hand affectionately on John’s shoulder and raised an eyebrow at me. “You can stop grinning, Claire,” he ordered me.  “I know you’re jumping around on the inside.”

“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, grabbing Joe by the waist and squeezing him, looking up into his face to see his dark eyes twinkling down at me.  He hugged me back, and as I looked over at John's shy smile I whispered to Joe, “This is one of the good ones, Joegie.”

“Do the two of you want to stay with us?” my mom piped up.  “It would save you the cost of a hotel, and with Jamie and Claire leaving, there’s a room free in our house.”

“Thanks, Robin,” Joe responded.  “But this—” he said, meeting John’s eyes, “is so new, that might be awkward.”

“Well, at least come for dinner tonight,” she insisted.  “I’m going to be going through kid withdrawals by then.”

My eyes were pricking with tears and I found myself hugging my mom gratefully.  I knew that many of their Christian friends and colleagues were not as open minded, but my dad’s background in counseling had convicted them several years back that bigotry and judgment had no place in a loving life.

When I let go of my mom, I met Jamie’s eyes.  We were almost at the front of the line, our family members having traveled with us through the weaving queue leading up to the security check-in.

“I've made a decision,” Jamie declared, as we pulled the cart carrying our backpacks forward a few more steps.  I looked up at him curiously.  “I think I’ll just stay here,” he said brightly.  “I’ve bonded with your family, Claire, and I dinna want to travel on the Island Hopper again.  It makes me queasy just to think of it.”

“Jamie, honey,” my mom said reassuringly, patting his arm.  “You’ve got those copper pressure point bracelets I got for you, and you’ve taken your motion sickness medicine.  When you get on the plane, take the antihistamine Claire has for you and you’ll fall asleep.  You’ll be boring company for Claire, but you won’t feel nearly as sick.”

Jamie grinned down at my mom and put his arm around her.  “Thanks, Robin,” he said.  “I canna thank ye enough for looking out for me.”

“I’m a momma,” she said.  “And you’re one of my kids now, too.”

There was a lump in my throat as Jamie and I put our backpacks on the conveyor belt and stopped at the bench to take off our shoes.  I turned back one last time as we left the security area to go to our gate, and saw six familiar faces gazing at us, six arms waving furiously until we couldn’t see them anymore.

Jamie stopped me as we rounded the corner.  I had let out a little sob, and he dropped his backpack and took me in his arms.

“It hurts to say goodbye,” he whispered, his head bending close to mine.  “But how blessed we are to have your family so close.”

I nodded and took his hand as we headed toward home.

The text on my phone was as abrupt as the man himself. When does your plane arrive?

I shook my head in confusion, typing “7:17 pm” and hitting send.

Next to me, Jamie gave a soft snort, shifted in his seat, and then returned to the even breathing of sleep.

I will meet you then, came the reply.

Thanks, I responded.

You should stay with us tonight.

That would be nice.  Thanks.

The Iroij and I have a request. Let’s talk when you get here.

Dougal’s final response left me disquieted.

Dougal and the Iroij? What could they want, and why the need to prepare us for it?

I had been fretting about Dougal's announcement for nearly an hour when a deep breath and expansive stretch from Jamie next to me announced that the antihistamine effects might be wearing off.  He nuzzled my neck and then took my hand in his, drawing it into his lap.

“Jamie!” I whispered, “We are in an airplane, you goober.  There are people around!”

“Ifrinn, that is a shame,” came his slow good-humored reply.  With one final motion that brought me in lingering contact with his wake up show-and-tell, he released my hand and kissed me on the shoulder.

“Perhaps later,” he murmured.

“At Dougal's house?” I asked dubiously, handing him my phone.

He read over the messages, his forehead furrowing as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“What could they possibly want from us?” Jamie mused, yawning as he handed the phone back to me.

What indeed? I wondered, looking out the window at the never-ending landscape of blue ocean and the occasional cloud. I had to satisfy myself with the reassurance that we would find out soon enough.

“How were your travels?” Dougal asked once he had helped us load our things into the trunk of his car and he had turned down Lagoon Drive leaving the airport. The sun had set and all we could see was faint pink in the west over the lights of Delap.

“Remarkably good,” Jamie responded with a deep sigh, stretching his legs out and sinking into the front seat.  “Even spending today on the Island Hopper, I dinna feel horrible, though I do feel stiff and sore.  Dinna think I got off the plane once.”  He glanced over his shoulder at me in the back seat.  “As for Guam, the whole trip was brilliant.  Claire’s family was so welcoming I already love them.” Before turning back to face Dougal, he winked at me.

“Any other news?” Dougal asked, unaware of the shade thrown his way.

“Well, my da called me,” Jamie mentioned off-handedly.

“He did, then,” Dougal responded gravely. “He had called to get your information and I gave him Claire’s phone number.  How are ye, lad?”

“Not sure… Still in a state of shock, I guess, though I should probably call him before we leave Majuro,” Jamie replied.

Dougal didn’t ask any more questions, and Jamie didn’t offer any more information the few remaining minutes until we reached the MacKenzie home.

“The Iroij and I would like the two of you to take Perkaj home,” was Dougal’s request.  He had restrained himself until supper, once we were sitting in chairs around the dining table with him and Revka and Moneo.

I shared a confused glance with Jamie. How was that a request that needed much consideration?  “Well, of course we can take him back to Arno,” I responded.

“I dinna believe you grasp my meaning,” Dougal said, leaning forward. “We need you to take him back to Arno and keep him in your home for a time.”

“What about Maria?” I asked, confused.

“Aye, what about his auntie?” Jamie chimed in.

“She stayed for a week but then left,” Dougal explained, “convinced that the task was beyond her.  She isn’t prepared to monitor his blood sugars and take charge of his diabetic care.”

“And his parents?” I asked.  I glanced over at Jamie, whose brow was furrowed in thought.

“With several younger children in the home, I don't think his parents can be expected to take it on either,” Dougal reasoned. “But the Iroij and I feel like it would be cruel to put him in medical foster care here on Majuro, so far from his home.”

“No, that wouldna be right,” said Jamie, shaking his head. He reached over and put his hand on my knee.

“I agree,” said Dougal.  “So we would like the two of you to consider accepting this responsibility.  To have him come live with you for a time.”  He paused to let the concept sink in.  “We honestly can't imagine a better environment.  You with your medical background, Claire.  And you, Jamie, a teacher—close to him all day so you can monitor his blood sugars during school and coach him on eating and giving himself insulin.  The both of you will be there to help him through the night and in the morning.”

“But willna he miss his family?” Jamie asked.  “It may confuse him for them to just be down the lane.”

Dougal nodded briefly. “Mr. Timisen and I were thinking his life should be as normal as possible.  We would like him to eat a meal with his family each day and play with friends in the afternoon.  But until they are confident he is in a situation with the support to keep his blood sugar level, the hospital won’t even release him to let him return home.”

“Aye.” Jamie answered with conviction when Dougal finally paused in his reasons. “Of course we will help the wee laddie.”

I was still taking it in, thinking about the challenges of bringing a seven-year-old into our home.

I glanced over at Jamie to see if I could catch his eye—to see if I could signal to him that perhaps we should talk first.

Instead I saw him lean back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, on his face a wry smile.

“Am I to understand, Uncle,” he mused, “that as a married couple, Claire and I are actually better suited to be of benefit to the islanders on Arno than we were unmarried?”

Dougal’s generally gruff countenance softened at his nephew’s teasing comment.

“Aye, son, you’ve proven your point,” he said, shaking his head with a grin.  “And I said as much to Claire on our field ship voyage—that I was wrong to judge her effectiveness based on the actions of one night, and that I truly see now what an impact she is having.”

“As I said, of course we will be happy to take Perkaj home wi’ us,” Jamie repeated, smiling over at me proudly.

By that point both men were looking at me in expectation. What other choice was there? We were there for the sake of the islanders, not our own selfish impulses.

“So,” I said brightly.  “What do we need to do to get ready for a temporary son?”

Perkaj looked so small in the hospital bed. He'd always been a cheerful student and joker, his chubby face often in a smile.  Now he looked shrunken and serious as the endocrinologist showed us the tester, the insulin pen, and the syringe for long-acting insulin.

I had done an endocrinology rotation in nursing school.  Despite this, the prospect of learning to be a human pancreas was daunting. I held back, but Jamie instantly sat down by the boy, taking his hand in his and talking to him in Marshallese.  Perkaj answered his questions in a small voice, and Jamie kept up a constant stream of conversation until the doctor was ready to continue.

“Go ahead and speak to him in Majel,” Jamie directed the doctor.  “I’ll translate for Claire.”

I appreciated how Dr Langenbelik also sat down at Perkaj’s level to show him the insulin pen as he told us they’d already administered his long-acting insulin for the day, the dose given each morning to provide a baseline level of insulin in the bloodstream for the day.  As we were talking, a breakfast tray arrived from the cafeteria.  On it was a range of island menu staples—a small bowl of rice, a piece of grilled fish, some baked breadfruit, sliced papaya, and two white flour pancakes.

“Knowing how much insulin to take with each meal is very important,” the doctor was telling Perkaj.  “You need to get good at counting your carbs.”

The doctor cupped his hand and held it up in front of Perkaj.

“That’s about a half cup,” Jamie translated in a whispered aside, “That is the size of a serving of food.”  He stopped and listened as the doctor explained while pointing to the items on the tray, then turned back to interpret for me.  “A half cup of anything sweet or starchy—rice or pancakes, fruit or breadfruit—takes one unit of insulin to enter the cells of the body.  With each meal Perkaj eats, he needs to figure out how many servings he is eating, and then he will give himself the short-acting insulin.”

“Or we can help him until he is ready to do it,” I suggested.

“Before eating anything, ledrik,” the doctor said to Perkaj, who was eyeing the food hungrily, “You need to test your blood sugar.  If you are high, you need to add an extra ____ units for each ____ points too high.  If you are too low, you need to adjust the insulin down slightly.”

Perkaj leaned back, deflated.

“Dinna worry, Perkaj,” Jamie encouraged.  “It shouldn’t take long.”

“It’s time,” the doctor said to us.  “I’m going to step back and observe as you help Perkaj with this meal.”

Jamie and I exchanged wide-eyed glances, then nodded at each other to fortify our confidence.

“Ready?” Jamie asked the young boy.  Perkaj nodded his head, sitting back up and looking eagerly at the food.  “First we should have you test your blood sugar.  Can you do that?”

With one false start and wincing as he did it, Perkaj was able to poke his fingertip with the lancet to get his blood sugar reading.  It was right on target, so as the boy looked over his plate, Jamie coached him to count the carbohydrate servings, which Perkaj adorably did by counting on his fingers.

“Enana keine” he said, making a face after a tiny taste of pancake.  “I eat the kappokpok, the keinabbu, the feesh, and the rice.  That is tree carbs.  No carb for feesh.” He looked around the tray curiously, questioning, “Is there salt? Or soy sauce?”

Once Perkaj had decided what he was hungry for, it was time to administer the short-acting insulin.  Jamie tried to hand the pen off to me, but I forced it back into his palm.  “You need to do it,” I insisted at his surprise.  “I know how to give injections. You’re the one who needs practice!”  He conceded with wide eyes and a reluctant sigh.

I coached Jamie with the insulin pen, watching as he turned the end of the cylinder until it clicked three times, one for each carb serving—the rice, the breadfruit, and the papaya.

“But I don’t want to hurt him,” Jamie objected when I pulled up Perkaj’s sleeve and exposed the back of his arm where Jamie was to give him the injection.

“Is okay, Meester Shamie,” Perkaj said reassuringly, bravely squaring his jaw as Jamie did the same, looking away as Jamie firmly jabbed the needle into the boy’s arm and pressed the plunger to dispense the insulin units into his bloodstream.

Jamie shuddered when it was done, murmuring “Jolok bod,” to Perkaj.

“Echelok bod, Meester Shamie,” Perkaj said cheerily.  “You did bery good. Emetak only jiddik.”

Dr. Langenbelik approached, a smile on his face.  “Excellent,” he said.  “Now eat your breakfast, Perkaj—we want to make sure there are carbohydrates in your body when the insulin is in your bloodstream.”

Perkaj seemed hungry and grateful to get food in his system again.  As he ate, the doctor turned and talked to the two of us quietly.

“Our goal is to get Perkaj trained to take on his diabetic care himself.  Until he does, though, I am grateful that the two of you are willing to take on the responsibility.  Not every young person diagnosed with type 1 has family members who feel ready to help them get through the learning process.”

“I don’t feel ready,” Jamie said to the doctor.  “But I dinna think we have much choice.”

We took shifts staying with Perkaj during the twenty-four hours before the Jolok boat was to take us home.  I stayed with him while Jamie went to the hardware store to buy the last of the things he needed for the solar still and storm-proofing our house.  I had taken one of Revka’s books with me and spent several hours reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to Perkaj.

Jamie arrived, giving me a quick hug before going right to Perkaj’s bedside.  He picked up where I left off with the book while I went to do our grocery shopping for fresh produce and dry goods for the next few weeks.

“Our blood sugar is right on target!” Jamie announced when I returned to the hospital in the late afternoon after dropping off the food boxes at Dougal’s house.  He showed me the little notebook where they had marked down Perkaj’s pre-meal blood sugar level, the amount of insulin, the number of servings he had eaten, and then the mid-afternoon blood sugar level.

Perkaj seemed to be tired by then, but Jamie continued to sit by his bed holding his hand as the boy’s eyes repeatedly blinked and then closed.

I stood behind Jamie, massaging his shoulders as I watched the little boy sleeping.

“Not exactly what you pictured as your first child, is he?” Jamie whispered, rolling his head back and forth and groaning as I hit tight muscles.

“A little bigger than I expected,” I joked, smiling as Jamie grabbed my hand and kissed it.

“Are you okay with this?” Jamie asked, turning to look up at me. “I'm the one who deals with kids most of the time. You want a baby, but our baby.  This is different, to be sure.”

“I’m terrified, honestly,” I responded, leaning forward and putting my arms around Jamie’s shoulders, my cheek against his as we both stared at Perkaj.  “I know we’re capable, but this is such a responsibility.”

I could feel a lump growing in my throat and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.  “And I was so looking forward to being alone again.”

Jamie chuckled and brought his hands up to rest on my arms. “That day will come.”  He pressed his cheek against mine as he looked at the little dark-haired form in front of us.  “This will just be a season, like your da said.”  He took a breath and then began hesitantly.  “Now, I was thinking Perkaj will do better if he doesna wake up all alone.  Can I stay here wi’ him tonight?”

“Of course,” I responded.

“So do you want to stay here wi’ us, or go to Dougal’s house?”

“Dougal will need their car in the morning,” I said with a sigh, looking at the narrow guest couch edging the window. “And all our groceries are there at their house.  I’ll need to pack them up before we come to pick Perkaj up for the ride on the Jolok boat.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then?” he asked.  As he stood and took me in his arms I closed my eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, listening to the reassuring thump of his heart.

“Yes,” I sighed.  Then I reached up, pulled his face down to mine and kissed him thoroughly.

He chuckled.  “Trying to make me regret my choice?”

“No,” I answered.  “I just love you.”

When I left the room I looked back—pausing just to watch Jamie sitting in the chair next to the bed, leaning his arms on the railing and looking down at the dark-haired form covered by a thin blue blanket.

On to Chapter 28: Just Add Water

I tried not to be disappointed.  After all, I still had to work on Monday.  I was going to see Jamie tomorrow evening. Twenty-four hours wouldn’t kill me, no matter how upset I felt.

I meandered over to the crate that was serving as a game table, plopped down on the chair next to it, and helped John begin to gather the game pieces and put them into a plastic bag.

“He’s not here,” I said quietly.

“He will come, Claire,” John reassured me as he stood up from his chair.  “As soon as he knows you’re on the same island as him, Jamie will come.”

I bit my lip trying to distract myself, then looked up expecting to share a sympathetic sigh with John.  Instead I saw John look over my head and his face light up.  I knew, just from watching him, that my husband had arrived. I didn’t turn; I watched Jamie’s approach on John’s countenance.

Handsome as John was, he transformed before my eyes.  He stood up straighter, his shoulders back, his chest out. His eyes brightened.  His pupils dilated.  He smiled.

Am I that obvious too? I wondered.  Joe had talked about me getting my sparkle back.  For the first time I began to realize the source of that sparkle.  It wasn’t Arno, as much as I loved the place and the people.  It was Jamie. Being with him and being loved by him made me more alive. Would that fade with time? I wondered.

“John,” said a deep voice.  Two warm hands slid over my shoulders, and he was behind me.

“Jamie,” I squeaked, and suddenly the longing and ache and loneliness of the past seven days, everything I’d been pushing down and distracting myself from burst to the surface.  I stood up, turned, threw my arms around him, buried my face in his chest, and started sobbing.

“Mo chridhe,” he whispered. “I’m here.  Don’t cry.” He held me gently, unable to caress me as he usually would, but feeling his arms around me was enough.

I was mortified when I pulled myself away from him, but I could tell from the tender look on his face that I wasn’t the only one deeply affected by our reunion.

I turned to John.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d respond like that.” I met his eyes and my heart broke for him.  I don’t know that I’d ever seen heartache so visibly etched on a person’s face.  The kinship and compassion I felt towards John led me to release my grip on Jamie, who reached out to shake John’s hand.

“Iiokwe, Jimjeran,” Jamie smiled, his words the embrace John needed.

Very good friend, Sharbella had explained the day Jamie had called me Jimjeran.  A friend for all of life.

via GIPHY

“Come,” Jamie said, smiling at John.  “I asked them to prepare refreshments for us and Dougal at the hotel.  You must join us.  It’s been far too long since we’ve talked.”

And then he smiled down at me.  “As for you, wee one, I willna let you out of my sight.” He bent and whispered in my ear. “Truly. I have a sub for tomorrow, and a hotel room for tonight. I will not be going home until you come with me.”

“Shall I get my suitcase, then?” I asked.

“No’ without me, ye aren’t,” Jamie stated with certainty.  “I can help ye, anyway.”

Little caring what anyone thought, I took his hand and led him up the stairs to my cabin.

He was gripping my hand tighter as we climbed, and I realized that neither of us planned to just retrieve my suitcase.  After I unlocked the door and went inside, Jamie closed the door behind us and lunged for me the same instant as I leapt for him.  An awkward few moments of desperate kissing and I was sitting on my high berth, Jamie between my knees, his arms around me.

“God, I’ve missed ye, Claire,” he groaned.  He slowed down his kisses and took my face between his hands, gazing at me and repeatedly pressing his lips to mine, then to my cheeks and forehead. “It was like the sun was gone out of my life without you around.”

“I ached without you here to touch me,” I said.  “I even hugged your uncle, I was so desperate.”

Jamie laughed and crushed me to his chest.  Then with a deep sigh he admitted, “I don’t think I could ever hug you tight enough to satisfy myself.  I canna wait to lie wi’ you, to be inside you, Claire.  My body wants me to ravish ye right here, but it wouldna be right.”

I felt the same desire to make love with him, as satisfied as my heart was to just see him.  

“Just hold me then,” I requested.  He stepped even closer and embraced me as I put my arms around him and leaned my cheek against his chest.  For a minute we paused, simply breathing in unison, letting our hearts rest and reunite.

“They’ll notice if we’re gone too long,” Jamie said reluctantly. With his arms around me he lifted me down from the bed, took me by the hand I offered him, and grabbed my suitcase.

I stopped at the door and turned back to look at him.  Several sun-bleached curls flopped over eyes that looked at me adoringly.  At his expression, my stomach leapt. “Oh, Jamie,” I sighed. “I’m so glad to be home.”

In the hotel dining room there were drinks and fresh fruit, cold coconut rice and tuna.  After days of still air I felt cooler with the ceiling fans slowly turning above us. I was grateful for the fresh fruit but avoided the rice and fish.  After days of Majel food, I was feeling seriously ready for some Italian or Mexican.

To eat without the ship surging beneath me was a relief, though it was taking me a while to get my “land legs” back.  What I was immensely aware of was Jamie’s hand on my thigh, subtly stroking me with his fingers.  As we all talked, occasionally he would turn and look at me, smile and squeeze my leg. While being completely immersed in the conversation with Dougal and John, at the same time he made me constantly aware of his desire for me and that his attention was on me.

John had a look of aching longing on his face, of wistful desire when Jamie was talking to me or Dougal, and absolute pleasure when Jamie’s attention was on him. His eyes and smile spoke volumes about the depths of affection and admiration he felt.

Eventually, Dougal stood up from the table.  “I believe I’ll go back to the field ship now.  Are you coming now or later, Mr. Kilmeej?”

John looked from me to Jamie and back.  “I will be along soon.”

The three of us stood from the table and walked out onto the patio that faced the lagoon.

“It is so lovely to see you, John.  I’m grateful you are well,” Jamie said, sneaking an arm around my waist now that we were outside.

“It had been too long, friend. And we must stay in contact and speak again,” John responded.

“I canna thank ye enough for letting me know the ship was arriving here tonight,” Jamie said as he squeezed me. I turned to look up at his face.  

“It wasn’t Rupert and Angus that told you?” I asked,

“Nah,” Jamie responded. “John radioed several days back, to let me know you would be coming here directly, not by way of Majuro.  If Dougal called on the radio today, it was too late.  I was already in Arno, Arno by 7 this evening.”

“John…” I said, once again touched by his sweetness.

“You have been such a good friend to me,” Jamie said, reaching his hand out earnestly to shake John’s.  “You were there for me when I was grieving the loss of my father.”

John smiled.  “And I will always be there for you if you need me… And for your wife as well.  If she needs to be rescued… If she needs a hug. Or a kiss.” His eyes twinkled as he grinned at me teasingly.

Jamie looked back and forth between the two of us in confusion. I could tell I’d have a little explaining to do.

John sighed and continued. “But I know the two of you have been apart for the longest time yet in your short marriage, and I can see on your faces that you want to be alone.”

I blushed but looking over at Jamie saw that his face was red as well.

“I canna deny it,” Jamie said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “And as embarrassed as I may be that I cannot conceal the way I feel, I may beg your compassion and ask to make our farewells.  I promise that we will speak again before you leave.”

I reached out my hand to pat John’s arm in farewell, and he bent to my ear.  “Love him well for me,” he whispered.  My heart broke for him, and my eyes instantly teared up.

“You and I have the strangest relationship,” I whispered back to him.  “And I will.”

John walked away deflated and watching him killed me. He felt everything I was feeling, but he had to say goodnight.  And I was going to take my husband very thoroughly to bed.

“What was that?” Jamie asked as he guided us toward the iar, concerned to see the tears in my eyes.

“We both love you,” I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “And he was a true friend to me on this trip.”

Jamie stopped and turned, watching John walk away toward the dock. “I love him, too,” he said.  “But I can tell it hurts him that friendship is all that I can give him.”  He sighed deeply, then turned back to me.  “As for you, now, I have a key for a beachside bungalow with a lovely queen-sized bed.  Come with me?”

 ***

     Jamie shut the door behind him, turned, and looked at me shyly.  “When you’ve just been married a month, a week feels like an eternity.  You almost seem a stranger.”

     “I missed you,” I said, walking into his arms.  “I missed this.”  I inhaled and let out a quiet sigh as I smelled his familiar scent.  “God, if I never smell copra again it will be too soon.”  I sniffed him again, moving my nose toward his underarm.

     Jamie laughed.  “You’re tickling me.  Whatever are you doing?”

     “I’ve missed your smell,” I said, tugging at the hem of his tee shirt.  He removed his shirt, the corners of his lips quirking up.

     I whimpered at the sight of him.  “Jamie, you’re so beautiful,” I said, coming close to run my hands over his chest, down his sides, and across his abdomen.

     I was hungry for him, reaching up to kiss him, pushing him backward until his calves hit the bed.

     “Take them off,” I ordered him, nodding towards his shorts, which he obediently removed, his eyes twinkling.  With that, I pushed him into a sitting position, stepped back, and as he watched, I untied my wrap dress, letting it fall from my shoulders.

     He reached for me to pull me toward him, but instead I knelt in front of him.

     “I don’t need…” he insisted, but I shook my head.

     “I do,” I said.  “I need to make you feel good.  I’ve missed feeling this power.”

     I tried not to dwell on comparisons, pushing them to the back of my mind.  When I was with Frank I’d occasionally give him oral on special occasions or when he asked me.  But he rarely reciprocated, and then only when I was freshly showered, so it made me feel used.

     Jamie, on the contrary, got joy out of making me squeal and adored my response to him; grinning, self-satisfied, when I blinked my eyes in dazed wonder afterwards.  And I had come to enjoy it, too, the feel of soft skin on my lips and tongue, feeling him harden in response to me, the sounds he made.  I felt like a magician working a spell on him.

     “Enough,” he groaned.  “You don’t get all the fun.”  He pulled me up until I was standing in front of him, which put me at exactly the right height for him to bury his face between my breasts, which he did with a contented hum.

     He reached around to unfasten my bra as I eagerly pushed down my panties and then stood again in front of him.  Jamie kissed my breasts as he ran one hand up my inner thigh and caressed me with his other hand, eventually circling his arm around my waist until he had his large hand situated firmly at the small of my back.

     He made a sound—almost a hungry growl—as the hand that had been stroking my thigh explored farther northward.

     “Christ, Claire,” he groaned, just as I demanded, “Now, Jamie.”  He met my eyes and I nodded in affirmation.

     He lifted me, laid me down, and entered me in one fluid motion.

     I wasn’t usually one who could come just from intercourse but with the length of time since we’d been together and my level of sexual frustration, it was enough.

     “Oh Jamie!” I cried out, startling him momentarily.  He relaxed almost as quickly, kissed me with a grin, and began again to move within me, faster and firmer until he stiffened with his own release.

     “Oh, God, I’ve missed that,” he said, after he’d caught his breath and rolled off of me, lying flat on his back.  I turned to see the adorable crinkle around his eyes and his broad smile.

     “But,” he said, rolling to his elbows to kiss me firmly.  “I’ve missed you even more.”

     “Good save,” I giggled, stroking his cheek with my hand.

      “So,” I mused, once we were lying together in the darkness ready to sleep.  “If you had to choose to never see me again or never make love to me again, which would you choose?”

     He was silent for a moment, and then said, “I could be a monk, if you were at the nunnery next door.”

     “Really?” I asked skeptically.

     “Aye,” he answered, his hand creeping over my bare hip.  “But, I would expect you to leave your window open, and I would be a Very. Naughty. Monk.” he said, punctuating his statement with kisses.

     I laughed.  Then pulling his arm over my side, I curled up in my happy place and slept.   

“If you’re not busy the whole time, John,” I offered casually, “We’d love to get together with you there.  I’m planning on showing Jamie the island, and we will probably be going on some hikes, caving, waterfalls… going out snorkeling.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” John replied, a hopeful smile on his face.  

“Intrude?  The more the merrier,” I replied.  I met Jamie’s eyes and was glad to see the invitation had pleased him. “I’ve got a younger sister and a brother Jamie’s age who are both in college.  They will probably have lots of friends around, and my best friend from Boston is coming over as well.”  

John brought out his cell, and as we waited for departure we entered info into each other’s devices.  It was strange to have coverage at all, and handy to not have to search through my luggage for a scrap of paper.

“What took your uncle and aunt to Guam?” I asked, once we’d returned our devices to pocket & purse.

“They’re climate change refugees, I guess you could say,” John responded.  “They lived on one of the outer islands that was particularly low-lying.  During the king tide three years ago, salt water swept over their property.  It destroyed their home, ruined the groundwater supply, and killed over half of the coconut trees that they depended on for their livelihood.  My cousin had already gone to Guam for college, so they moved over to be with him. They both found jobs—my auntie works at a day care and my uncle works for a sport fishing company, taking tourists out to catch huge mahi-mahi.”

“I am glad to hear they have found work,” Jamie said compassionately, “but it must be hard to move from an outer island to a westernized place.”

“Ayet,” John nodded. “My mother speaks of moving to be with them.  She believes I will not stay in Majuro forever. And if she goes, other than my friendships and my heritage tying me here, I wonder what I will do.”

We sighed together, rescued from depressing thoughts by the announcement that they were beginning boarding for United Air flight 154.

 After boarding our plane in Majuro just a little before noon, we flew for over an hour, landing in Kwajalein on the Army base.  Just as we hadn’t been allowed to photograph the base when we were on the field ship, we were required to stay on the plane during the half hour layover after which we flew for two hours to Pohnpei (Ponape).  After another half-hour on the ground we flew to Chuuk, had yet another thirty-minute layover to deplane and re-board, and finally sat through the final two-hour flight to Guam.

It didn’t matter how long it had been since Jamie had flown, nor did it matter how much motion sickness medication he had taken.  Having to deal with four take-offs and four landings within eight hours was a recipe for gastrointestinal disaster.

He leaned forward in the cramped space with his forehead resting on the back of the seat in front of him.  I had lifted the arm rest between us because it gave him a little extra leg room and the comfort of contact with me. Providing him extra room hadn’t taken care of the nausea, though. His skin had taken on a grayish hue, and he was sweating slightly.

“Babe, I’m so sorry,” I said, rubbing his neck. By the time we finally approached the airport on Guam and I viewed the strange hourglass shape of the island and the familiar red clay hills, Jamie looked so queasy I made sure I had the provided airsickness bag at the ready in case he didn’t make it through the final descent.

When we had collected our bags and gone through customs, walking to the arrivals area I could finally see my father’s salt and pepper hair and then spotted my brother and my sister.  

Daddy stepped forward first, giving me and then Jamie each a tight hug.  “Welcome home, baby.  Good to see you again, son,” he said.  Jamie flushed, and turned to Seth and Shelly, both standing behind Dad.

“Hey, man,” Seth said, reaching out to shake Jamie’s hand, sizing him up.  Frank and Seth had been too far apart in age to really connect, and personality-wise they had little in common. I was curious if Seth thought Jamie too young for me, if he’d think he wasn’t man enough to marry his sister, but after he released Jamie’s hand, he met my eyes.  “You’ve married a giant!” he exclaimed.

Jamie bent to my ear and whispered quietly, “Ye didna happen to mention that Seth and Shelly were adopted.”

I looked over at my brother; his smile, brown skin and close cropped black curls so familiar.  Shelly stood behind him, shyly peeking over at Jamie, beautiful long curly brown hair with reddish highlights, big brown eyes, and the distinct nose and arched eyebrows that revealed her half-Samoan heritage.

“Don’t I have a picture of my family on my dresser?” I whispered back.

“Aye, now I realize you do. But it’s no’ a composed shot.  You were all in goofy poses and making funny faces, so I didna realize it was your family.  I thought it was just a bunch of your friends.  Ah well, no matter.”

I glanced up to see that he was flushing in embarrassment, but he managed to cover it by reaching his hand out toward Shelly. “Nice to meet you, lass,” he said. Then Jamie looked around, asking, “Where’s Robin?”

“Mom’s making dinner at home,” Shelly offered. “She assumed you’d be starved, of course.”

“You know Mom. She’s German.  She’s gotta make sure everyone’s fed,” Seth said, reaching out to take Jamie’s duffle bag. “Here, man, let me take that.  You still look a little green.”

Jamie nodded, putting his arm about my waist.  As we headed out toward the car, Shelly pointed surreptitiously at my husband as he looked away and mouthed, “He’s hot!”

I grinned back at her.

Daddy led the way, Seth and Jamie easily falling into a conversation about college and volunteer work and living in the islands. Shelly, meanwhile, kept on shaking her head at me.  “You’ve got some explaining to do, Claire,” she said.  “I mean, I get it. Just look at him.  But still!”

Once in the parking lot we stuffed everything into the minivan and crawled into the seats, with Jamie taking shotgun reluctantly only after Seth refused it and I beat him into the bucket seat behind the passenger seat.  I knew he needed to be in the front.  The roads on Guam followed the contours of the land, and that meant they weren’t straight.

We left the airport and Dad turned us north toward the Air Force Base, Yigo, and home.

I leaned forward to point things out to Jamie as we passed them. What I noticed first was the smell of vehicle exhaust, but after months of silence out on Arno, I was most overwhelmed by the chaos, the noise, and the. I put my hand on Jamie’s shoulder and felt calmer as he reached up and grabbed my hand with his.

Thirty minutes later we were pulling up to my family’s tan flat-roofed two-story home just outside the base.  There was a bit more space between properties out here which was what Mom preferred, so they had chosen not to live in base housing.  Through the years she and my dad had made use of their backyard space.  They had built garden boxes for beans, tomatoes, and okra; planted banana plants and papaya trees, and there was a gorgeous avocado tree right by the car port.

When we entered the house, I was met with the fragrance of fir. Despite the crazy expense, for years it had been our one holiday splurge.  We could have purchased a decently lovely faux tree with Christmas lights already wired in.  But Amy and I had always insisted that if we weren’t going to have snow, we needed a Christmas tree.  And so Daddy shelled out two to three times what a tree would cost in the states for one shipped over in a refrigerated cargo container.  Often it was a little scraggly and the needles would drop almost instantly, but that smell meant Christmas.

Mom appeared from the kitchen, bringing along a wake of delicious dinner smells.  She threw her arms around me.  “Welcome home, kiddo,” she said, squeezing me close.  Then she turned to Jamie.  “And to you, too,” she said. “Welcome home, Jamie.”

Jamie hugged my mom as well.  

“Dinner’s almost ready, kids,” Mom said.  “Shels, will you set the table?  And Seth, I was hoping you’d make a salad.” She had turned back toward the kitchen and noticed Jamie and I standing there still waiting for instructions. “Look at the two of you, so well trained,” she chuckled.  “Your job is to get your things moved into the guest room upstairs.”

Jamie and I grabbed our bags and took them upstairs. The downstairs of our home housed the living room, kitchen, and dining room, as well as the laundry room and my parents’ master suite.  Upstairs were the other three bedrooms and bathrooms, Seth’s room facing north, the room I used to share with Amy facing south, and Shelly’s room in between.

When Amy and I had moved away to go to college in the states, my parents had removed the two twin beds and replaced them with a queen-sized bed to use the room as a guest room.  However, there were still hints of the two of us around the room. Some of my clothes and a couple pairs of shoes remained in the back of the closet, and the paint was still a feminine pale purple.

Jamie walked around the room curiously, picking up a few objects, pulling the Twilight novels off the bookshelf and making a face at me.

“I was 17 when the movie came out,” I said.

“Let me guess… team Jacob?” he asked, holding the book up and grinning.

I glared back at him. “Are you making fun of me?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and bounced.  “This could be a first for me, too.”

“You must be feeling better if you’re coming on to me,” I retorted, unpacking my suitcase into the tall distressed white dresser.  “Are you implying that you need the experience of having sex in a girl’s bedroom?”

“Of course,” he said.  “Though, were you the kind of girl that had boy band posters in your room? I admit, I will be quite disappointed to not being doing it in the view of the handsome gentlemen of One Direction.”

“You mean the Jonas Brothers, don’t you?” I kidded in response, shaking my head.”

 After dinner, the family sprawled on the couches in the living room, Shelly curled up between Mom and Dad with Mom running her fingers through her long curls, Seth monopolizing the recliner, and Jamie and I squished together on the love seat.

Jamie and I shyly retold portions of our story—Jamie's accident, Samhain, Maxson, and a brief mention of Frank breaking up with me.  We both seemed cautious about what we said, frequently making eye contact before answering questions.

It was probably 8:30 Guam time when Jamie and I both started yawning. After our fifth consecutive yawn, my mom laughed.  

“Go to bed, you two,” she said.  “Majuro is two hours ahead of us.  There will be plenty of time for visiting tomorrow.”

We tiredly headed up to bed, stepping into the bathroom to brush our teeth.  The wide expanse of white tile surrounding the two sinks was foreign, as were the brilliant LED lights and the gigantic mirror.  Jamie sucked in his stomach and turned sideways.

“Am I getting pudgy, Claire?” he asked, eyeing himself critically.  “I dinna think I’m jogging enough.  And maybe I’m eating too much.”

I cocked my head to look at him in the mirror. “Sure look handsome to me,” I grinned, coming closer to him, putting my fingers inside the waistband of his shorts and pulling him toward me. “Have I shown you my bedroom, boyfriend?”

“I’m just going to read before bed, Mom,” I heard Shelley’s voice call from the top of the stairs. We paused, listening to her tromp down the hallway, shut her bedroom door, and turn on her radio.

I returned to the matter at hand, only to discover that Jamie seemed incredibly uncomfortable when I pressed myself against him.  

“Your sister,” he said, pausing to demonstrate that we could clearly hear her music.  “She might hear us.  She’s only nineteen, ye ken.”

“I think she’s sexually active, Jamie,” I said.  “And she knows we’re married.”

“Still,” he said, leaving the bathroom and heading toward the bed, frowning and shaking his head. “I dinna think… I am quite tired, after all… and my stomach still hasn’t settled very well.”

I stared at him, amused. “You’re saying no to sex?  Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I said, chuckling.  I turned off the light and crawled into the bed.  “And there are still seven more days where you might just get lucky in a girl’s bedroom.”

“Aye,” Jamie said, cuddling his body around mine.  “But I do have to say, air conditioning makes holding you close much more comfortable.”

After a few minutes of silence, I felt a hand creep subtly underneath my tank top. Shortly thereafter my husband whispered, “Well, Claire, if you can promise to be very, very quiet…”

Chapter Notes:

I hadn't planned on making Seth and Shelly adopted, but the inspiration came to me because MY two sons are adopted. Their racial backgrounds are in honor of my boys as well. My oldest is half-Samoan, my younger son is half-African-American.

Back in the 80s when I lived with my family on Guam, we were spending $75 for Christmas trees. Did you hear that?  Seventy-five dollars for a Christmas tree in the 80s! An online calculator says that's about $170 in today's dollars. One Christmas we even went out during the eye of a typhoon to get our Christmas tree. My dad really loved us girls...

I actually had to do research for this chapter--research on which boy bands were popular in 2006-2008, and when Twilight and the Hunger Games books came out... What we do for fanfic, amiright? As I am in my mid-40s, it would have been posters of Wham! and Menudo (popular on Guam at the time--with baby Ricky Martin. Hmmm. Ricky Martin, George Michael... I really know how to pick them, don't I?) Maybe THAT's why I love Lord John so much...

We had docked on Jabor, the islet with the largest population on Jaluit.  I was surprised to see how westernized the little town was, like a miniature Majuro. Instead of palm trees radiating out from the dock, there were some paved roads and some coral gravel roads, houses, a couple of small stores, and a school.  It seemed like every spare inch of space was covered with either a building or road.

The ship still had a large delivery of boxes to offload and copra to pick up, but it was obvious that the residents had less need of the medical services we provided.  Dr. Saul, however was quite busy, so during my patient breaks he was able to coach me through several extractions.  He showed me how to grip the tooth and rock it back and forth in its socket to loosen the bone and detach the ligament before removing the tooth.   Preparation, he said, was extremely important and would prevent the tooth splintering on removal.

He also demonstrated what to do if a tooth cracked on its way out—how to flush the cavity and make sure to extract the other pieces, to close the opening with a few stitches, as well as giving the patient instructions to rinse their mouths with salt water until fully healed.  

John had a bit of a weak stomach, so he was quite grateful to relinquish the assistant spot to me, and instead manned the fort in the clinic to come get me if I had a patient and handed out toothbrushes and toothpaste to curious children peering into the dental operatory.

Because Jabor was so well-supplied and urbanized, the ship only spent half the day there.  At our lunch break, the boat left the dock and pressed north to another island in the atoll a 45-minute journey away.

After we’d filled our plates, John and I found a shady spot on the upper deck to eat, as far away as possible from the bags of copra piled high on the main deck so that the rancid odor no longer overpowered us.  It was getting worse as the trip progressed and the supply of smoked coconut increased, though if we ever got a breeze at night, it seemed to blow the smell away.  However, in the past few days the ocean had been remarkably still and currently the only disturbance on the water was the white “v” of our wake.

“Where are we going now?” I asked John.

“Imiej,” he replied.  “It was where the Japanese were based during World War II here.” John pointed ahead to the far end of the long green island parallel to our course.  “There are ruins of barracks and an old Shinto shrine there, as well as wrecks of boats and airplanes that divers come to see.”

“I knew that Guam was held by the Japanese during World War II,” I nodded. “I hadn’t realized that the Marshall Islands were, too.”

“It’s taken a while for us to travel toward independence,” John smiled. “In the 1880s during the imperialism rush, Germany claimed the Marshall Islands.  They put in a trading post here on Jaluit.  After World War I, Germany lost the territory and we were given to Japan.”

“As if your nation was something that could belong to anyone other than her people?”

John inspected his fish and selected the perfect bite to pair with his rice.  John was handsome, refined, and distinguished, and yet he looked just as at home eating coconut rice and barbecued fish with his fingers as if he was using utensils in a fine dining establishment.  

“Well, Claire,” he said, smiling patiently, “Though a small nation does not have much control of her destiny, what can be accomplished viewing history with bitterness?  Our histories make us who we are.  During that time, we gained Japanese immigrants, and although many were repatriated to Japan after the war, if they’d intermarried, they were allowed to stay here.”

“I was thinking Ogawa sounded very Asian,” I responded.  “Our general store out on Arno is owned by an Ogawa. And a few of Jamie’s students have a blend of Marshall and Japanese features.”

John nodded.  

“A lot of late World War II was fought in the Pacific, as I recall,” I said.  “The US liberated Guam from the Japanese before the war ended.”

“The Japanese base here on Jaluit was bombed during World War II. The US took the Marshalls in early 1944, and the war didn’t end until a year and a half later.  After the war we became part of the Trust Territories of the Pacific Islands.”

“Forgive my ignorance,” I said.  “But are the Marshall Islands still a territory of the US?  Guam is.”

“No, we gained our independence in 1986,” John said with a smile. “Thirty-two years ago.  We might still be considered a protectorate of the US—they provide defense for us, and the US postal system delivers mail here as if we were a territory or state.  Considering that we only have 55,000 people in the entire nation, we aren’t any sort of superpower.”

I set down my plate and leaned forward toward John. “I’m missing my husband,” I said.  “Tell me how you met.”

John’s face brightened.  “I think it was my first day of College Writing,” he said.  “I like to do well in school, so I was one of the few people sitting toward the front of the classroom.  The next thing I know a very large ri-palle with bright red hair sat down by me.  Sorry,” he said, “Ri-pālle means…”

“No need to translate,” I said.  “That’s Jamie’s name for me half the time.”

John looked amused. “He calls you Ri-pālle?”

“Aet,” I nodded.  “As in ‘itōk Ri-pālle.’”

He shook his head in amusement.  “That Jamie… always kakūtōtōik—teasing. Sometimes,” John said, “the teasing hides a deep hurt… He has mentioned his family, of course.”

I nodded.

“The loss of his father in particular,” said John. He started to ask me a question, then stopped himself. “Has he mentioned me?”

I shook my head slowly.  “But John,” I explained, “I have only known him a little over two months.”

John stared at the wake of the boat. “Jamie was just the opposite of everything I’d seen every day since I was a kid. Red hair instead of black; curly instead of straight.  Tall instead of short.  Big instead of petite. You can see I’m bigger than the average Marshallese because I’m half white.  And having never met my father, I was drawn to Jamie. It was like I was seeing the other half of myself, the other half of my identity.” He paused.  “And I was coming to grips with another part of my identity as well, deciding whether it was safe, whether I was ready to come out of the closet.”

“It’s a big decision,” I responded.  “My best friend Joe is gay.  Coming out to his mom was the hardest thing he’d ever done.  Of course, she gave him a big ol’ hug and said, ‘Honey, I’ve known forever.  I just wondered when you were going to figure it out.’” I remembered the glassy look of tears in Joe’s eyes when he’d told me that story, when he’d shared how freeing it was to be able to be real with his momma.

“Sometimes it’s hard to stay home and make that change,” I said. “Joe moved across the country for college, and he’s settled in Colorado.”

John looked straight at me. “At times I feel certain that moving away is what I need to do to really be able to be myself.  But I’m tied to this place.  I just haven’t been able to leave.”

  The peaceful camaraderie of our boat journey quickly came to an end when we docked at Imiej and soon the staff of all the offices were back to work. By the end of our second work day, I had reached a level of efficiency that reminded me of my days in the ER, funneling patients through as quickly as possible, assessing their needs and providing care in a prompt manner.  I missed the relaxed, communal nature of my practice on Arno but it was also stimulating to rush again.  There was a part of me that recognized that sensation of stress and responded by shutting down the social part of my brain and triggering the professional part.

But after dinner, when the field ship was heading across the still sea toward our next destination, the atoll of Ailinglaplap; the part of my heart that longed for connection couldn’t help but ache.  I crept up to the top deck again and sat by the railing, gazing out toward the east, opposite the final rays of the setting sun.  Somewhere over those black, still waters lay the island of Majuro.  And beyond that was Arno and Jamie.  I hugged my knees to my chest and closed my eyes.  

I’d been homesick at camp before.  I’d had that baby ache when I longed to be a mother.  And I’d missed Frank when I first came out to Arno.  But missing Jamie hurt all over.  I pictured him coming home to me, his face beaming at the sight of me, imagined him after a morning jog, entering our apartment with a smile on his face, sweaty and hungry for breakfast and me, and the look on his face as he determined which to have first.  I thought of him getting dressed in the morning standing by the closet in boxer briefs—how just the sight of him: damp curls around his ears and neck, the lines of his back and visible tone of his muscles could draw me to him as if nothing else existed, unsatisfied until I had seduced him, until I had tasted him fresh with the scent of soap, until I had made him moan and say my name, gasp and blink his eyes in awe and then chuckle, speechless on our bed.

I thought of being held—in that bed, on the couch, in the hammock, standing in the kitchen doing the dishes with him hugging me from behind, his breath in my hair, his body a solid wall of security behind me.  I thought of talking in our bed in the darkness of night, the pleasure of telling stories of our childhoods and discussing things that mattered to us.  There was continued joy in the discovery of who Jamie was, and with each new revelation of his thoughtful character, I thanked providence for bringing us together.

Someone cleared his throat behind me, and I startled at the sound, at first concerned but then grateful to realize it was Dougal MacKenzie and not one of the deck hands who I occasionally found leering at me.

“Well, young lady,” he said, coming over by me and sitting down on a box. “Here you are, outside at night alone again.”  He chuckled, so I began to think I wasn’t in trouble with him. “We havena had many opportunities to get acquainted, but I thought I might take a moment to check with you and see how you are doing.”

I was grateful I hadn’t succumbed to the impulse I was feeling right before he arrived which was to start crying.  It was probably good to be distracted.

“I’m definitely keeping busy, Mr. MacKenzie,” I said.  “I’ve seen so many skin ailments and infections galore and given out at least a third of the boil prevention kits I brought along with me.”

“Indeed?  That’s good….”  We sat in silence for a moment before he began again.  “So you and Jamie have been married a month now?” he asked.  

“Yes, sir,” I responded.  “It was our anniversary when you radioed us.”

I could barely see his face with the sunset fading behind him, but I had a sense that he was smiling.

“Miss Beauchamp,” he started.  “I mean, Mrs. Fraser.  There are moments when I regret not speaking out against your marriage.  It was a sudden decision, and I have wondered whether by not forbidding it, I allowed the two of you to move forward with a life choice that will prove painful to both of you. I hope it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a mistake, Mr. MacKenzie,” I insisted. “As much as it seemed sudden, Jamie and I had a connection from our first meeting.”

“Truly?” Mr. MacKenzie asked.  

“I love him, sir,” I said.  “I was just sitting here thinking of him.  It may have been being reprimanded for my behavior and realizing what it would mean to lose him that was the catalyst, but I believe that we would have ended up dating and marrying if life had continued as it was.  I was falling in love with him, and he said he wanted me from the beginning.”

“So I don’t need to second guess my decision to let you be married? I often consider my sister Ellen when I think of the lad.  When she died and then Brian left, I knew I needed to provide for him.  He needed a man, an example, to get him back on the right path.  And though I think I’ve been firm with him and demanded much, I hope it has not worked for ill in his life.”

“Jamie is a very hard worker, sir,” I said.  “And yet gentle and kind too.”

“Well, I canna take any credit for the gentle and kind part,” Dougal laughed.  “Nor do I think that it was all Ellen’s doing, as sweet as she could sometimes be. I think it was his father, Brian. Though I don’t know what sort of tenderhearted person would leave his son and daughter when they were still grieving their mother and brother.”  He faded into silence.

“Jamie was lucky to have you, sir,” I responded quietly.  “And I’m grateful to you, too.”

He pushed himself up from the box.  “I promised Jamie I would keep you safe.  So you’d better come down with me and get settled in your stateroom for the night.  And in the future, if you wish to have time alone after dark, perhaps you could knock on my door and mention it to me.  I can stand guard at the stairs.”

Before the man could move away, I hugged him.  “You’re family now, Mr. MacKenzie,” I explained.  “Thanks for trying to take care of me.”

He patted me awkwardly on the back, and I followed him downstairs, smiling as I entered my room.  The hug hadn’t been from Jamie, but it would do.