Of Sea and Cloud by Jon Keller Page B

open and close and she heard the gentle creak of the railing as he pulled his body up the steps. She closed her eyes when he entered the room. She smelled seawater on him and sensed a presence that she could only equate with death but what it meant she had no idea. She tried to swallow the ink-like taste that suddenly trickled down the back of her throat but her tongue had gone dry.
    Virgil showered then sat in the chair beside the bed and she heard him pause and lean back. She listened to his breathing heavy through the darkness. After a while she could tell that he was trying to match the pace of his breaths with her own which was something he did when he could not sleep as if her calmness could transmit to him through patterns of lung and air. But now his breathing ran askew and he quieted and if she had looked at her husband she would have seen him close his eyes and she might have known that he wanted only to listen as her breath filled his chest.
    Celeste opened her eyes. The faint light from the sea beamed through the window and lit her gray hair. She didn’t move but she felt Virgil’s eyes on her. She swallowed the ink taste and said, Go on and tell me, Virgil, since I’m awake.
    He didn’t speak.
    Virgil, tell me. It’s after one in the morning.
    Virgil quietly clapped his hands together. As he rubbed them Celeste heard the scraping of his rough skin. She sat up and leaned against the headboard and let the sheet and blanket stay at her waist. She wore a white nightgown that absorbed the sea light. She saw the silhouette of her husband’s forehead and cheek and nose and jaw and she tried to fight the impression that he was returning from someplace horrible.
    He moved naked into the bed beside her and their arms and hips touched and she shuddered involuntarily and for the first time in over thirty years of marriage she found herself wondering who her husband was. Or what he was capable of. She didn’t know what was giving her these impressions and she didn’t know why her skin felt like a layer of cold wax had suddenly cloaked it.
    You’re frozen, she said and covered him with the blankets. Oh God, Virgil, are you all right? She rubbed his bicep with both hands and looked him over in the blue moonlight. Are you okay, Virgil?
    Finest kind, he said but he shook and he did not stop. He rubbed his face with both hands. His words were slow and frigid and they scared her. Just been up visiting with Royal.
    Visiting with Royal and what?
    I’m scared, Celeste.
    She dug her nails into the loose skin on his arm as if to awaken him. She swallowed more ink and kissed his cheek then shifted her face into his field of vision and said, Scared of what?
    I don’t know. That’s it—I just don’t know. Jonah cut a string of Osmond’s gear off. Out on the Leviathan. But that’s not it. Something’s gone wrong.
    What do you mean something’s gone wrong? Your best friend died, that’s what went wrong.
    Not that. Something just ain’t right, Celeste. It doesn’t add up. Nic dying like that, and now Osmond trying to fish the Leviathan, and Jonah cutting him off. It’s just not right.
    Do you need help? What were you doing with Royal James?
    Riding around, Virgil said but as he spoke he looked at his own hands as if surprised to find them empty.
    Celeste pulled the covers to Virgil’s throat and rubbed his arms then leaned back so her head touched the wall. Her eyes remained wide open. She said, Is there anything I can do?
    Virgil coughed.
    Oh God, Virgil, she whispered again and she put her hand on his thigh and he covered it with his own. You’re shaking, and you’re freezing. Do you need a doctor? What happened, Virgil?
    Nothing happened. I can’t make sense of it.
    You can’t make sense of what?
    This.
    This
is madness, she whispered.
    Trust me, he said. Just trust me.
    An hour passed in silence. Then Celeste rolled over and without