Free Sea by Heidi Kling Page A

?”
    “You will be forgiven for past crimes with soccer balls?” He eyed me knowingly. He knew full well that wasn’t a complete accident.
    “Fine,” I said. “Game on.”
    “I knew I could count on you, kiddo. Just ask around, see if one of the kids will point him out to you. The pesantren owner has to leave town for the next few days, and before he gets back, I’d like to make some headway with Deni. I really want to help smooth over their conflict before we go back home.”
    “Why is it so important to bond with Deni? I mean, he’s just one kid,” I said.
    “If I want the Aceh kids to be honest about what’s going on with them and their emotions during group, it needs to start with their leader. Acehnese are a very patriarchal society. These kids don’t have a father anymore, so they look to this boy Deni as their father figure. If I’m going to help with their healing process, it’s going to need to start with Deni, and then the rest will follow.”
    I thought about the drummer boy subtly letting the younger kids know what to do during their performance. How they looked at him, emulating his every move.
    What Dad said made sense.
    Dad put his arm around me and squeezed. “I hope I won’t disappoint,” I said.
    The beginnings of sunset bounced off the plain gold band that he wore on his left finger. The steadiness of Dad’s wedding ring soothed me.
    “You won’t,” Dad said in a tone I believed.
    I yawned, sucking in a bit of burnt air.
    We watched silently as the sun slipped into the sludgy river. The haze was pink and brown and reminded me of Mom’s story about the ship captain.
    “Remember the story Mom used to tell about the ship captain?” Dad asked.
    Seriously?
    “I was just thinking the same exact thing.”
    “Really? How funny. I was thinking about it on the plane over too—especially the bit about the sailor hurrying home. The sky’s like the light the captain was looking for, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah, except it’s not pink and orange like at home; it’s brownish—Fudge Popsicle Haze.” I started laughing.
    But Dad didn’t laugh. “You look so much like her now, you know....” His voice cracked, and the lines in his face deepened.
    “Huh?”
    “Like your mom. And here ... for some reason, you remind me of her so much. It’s hard to put a finger on exactly what it is ... but it’s something.”
    He used to tell me that a lot when I was little: You love-lies are two pearls cut from the same oyster, he’d say with pride.
    “Thanks,” I said.
    Dad looked at me cautiously before he asked, “Is it ... hard for you to be here, knowing we are so close to where we lost her?”
    The Indian Ocean.
    “Yeah,” I admitted. “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m still always hoping she’ll turn up.”
    Dad looked at me sadly and then gently spun his ring around and around his left finger.
    “It’s been three years, sweetie. They combed the ocean, the land. I didn’t come home until they were sure ...”
    “... But they never found the wreckage,” I said.
    Dad sighed. “I know. But if she was ... if she were alive, sweetie, don’t you think she’d have come home? She loved us too.”
    “Maybe. But maybe she ... I mean hypothetically, she ...” I let the words trail off.
    I ran out of Maybes and Hypotheticals and Buts a long time ago.
    Yet here I was trying the same exact thing again.
    “Perhaps while we’re here,” Dad said, in a cautious voice, “I was thinking of maybe doing a little ceremony; we could drive out to the Indian Ocean, say a few words....”
    My eyes stung with tears. “No.”
    “Sienna, I think maybe it would be good ...”
    “No. No way.”
    I dug my fingernails into my palm.
    “Just think about it?”
    “NO.”
    He breathed out a long, slow sigh as my heart raced in my chest.
    “Okay.” Dad stared at his ring. Tapped on it. Pulled it halfway off, then stuck it back on.
    I felt a little better.
    He loved Mom and would never stop loving her. Just