Page 28 of Uncharted

Calvin grabs two coconut bowls.

“We’ve got the real stuff now, Cal.” I hold the ladle out.

“I like these. They fit in the palm of my hand.” Which was the same thing he said about Haley’s breasts three nights ago. I’m not the only one who’s thinking about it. I look over at Zane, and he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

We’re about fifty-fifty on coconut bowls to ceramic. I’ve got one of each. All of us but Sam are eating with the wooden utensils that Calvin made. Food just tastes better with them, especially the ceviche. The metal taste would bother me now.

We tend to eat in silence for the first few minutes, then lately we’ve been doing something that Haley calls roses and thorns. And I’m hoping to hell she?—

“Should we do roses and thorns? I’ll go first. There are so many roses: Sam being alive, the ship, spices, pillows. Who’s next?” Haley smiles.

“Nope. You never let us get away with not having both a rose and a thorn. You need to fess up a thorn, Haley.” Zane leans in and bumps her shoulder. “Am I right?”

“Okay, right? Right, the worst thing that happened today...” She looks at Sam and then around the circle. “I stubbed my toe going up the ladder.”

“Which step?” Zane’s ready to leap up and take it out on the ladder. The girl is lying. The worst thing that happened today was that our bubble burst.

“Zane, it was my fault, not the ladder’s.”

“Okay, well, thorn: Easton stuck his knee in my ball sack last night. Rose: all of you. This meal. And the captain, of course.” Zane laughs.

I glance over at the captain, but he’s a little too mesmerized by my ceviche. It’s good, but not good enough to stare at for ten minutes.

Dinner is over; I gather the dishes and package them up in one of the smallest totes. Given enough time, I know Zane’s going to come up with a solution for washing dishes. But for now, whoever’s turn it is to wash them brings them down to the ocean, scrubs them with sand, and rinses them.

Calvin and Sam are lost in their world of wires and power surges, and I just can’t watch Haley in that much pain anymore. Her discomfort is palatable, and the fact that I can’t do anything about it makes me want to scream, so I head for the ocean.

I’m down the path, my feet hitting the sand, when I hear Sam next to me.

I lift my head. “Hey.”

“Thought I should help since I ate.” He nods at me.

“I’ve got it.” I want him to go back to Calvin and figure out what’s wrong with the ship, but if it means giving Haley a rest, I guess I can stand in the fire I started.

“I want to help. Show me how you do it.”

“It’s washing dishes, not docking a 200 meter at Portofino in Italy,” I say.

“Nothing would be that hard. Let me help.”

“Sure.” I find the large rock we normally sit on. It’s past the tender and the fishing weir. “It’s a little easier with the tub.” I set the tub on my lap and fill it with salt water. “What do you really want, Sam?” I go about doing the simple action. But honestly, I just want him to go away so I can kiss each one of my knives. I missed them so damn much.

“You really are a chef.”

“What do you mean by that?” I’m holding my ten-inch chef’s knife.

He shakes his head. “There’s no beating around the bush.”

“I don’t have time to mince words—I’m too busy mincing onions. So shoot. What is it?”

Chapter13

Refitting

Sam

“Are you going to explain any more to me?” I look at the chef. I guess I’m in debt to him. He told me when no one else said a thing, though there have been plenty of weird looks. I wonder if I would have picked up on the way they all seem to touch her if he hadn’t said something.

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