Free Promises to Keep by Nikki Sex, Zachary J. Kitchen Page A

that there was a whole world there, back in The States,
back home.
    Her
letters transported him from this hot and filthy place—full of blood, pain,
death, anger and fear to somewhere peaceful in his own mind. With her help, he
could almost smell salt in the air and feel a soft ocean breeze. As he read her
tidy, feminine script, he could hear waves pounding the beach in the background.
    What
would she sound like? At times, he felt he could hear her lovely voice.
    Jack
valued Laura's time and letters. He felt special, knowing that she'd taken the
time to write to him. It meant the world to him. Jack hoped he meant something
to her, as well.
    He
mentally calculated the time difference. It was four in the afternoon in North Carolina.
What was she doing now? Was she thinking of him, as he was thinking of her?
    Other
than talking on the satellite phone with his sister, Laura’s letters became the
only place he could find any peace these days. He relished every minute he
could get lost in her letters.
    Dear
Jack,
    Things
have been a little rough around here, but I don't want to talk about it. I
don't even want to think about it. I'd rather just talk about good things with
you and tell you what makes me feel happy. Maybe I can make us both smile and
feel good, if only for a little while.
    I
love the sea. I always have. It smells so wonderful and clean to me. When I
wade in and feel the salt-water splash against my skin, I feel as if all of my
sins are being washed away. I finally feel really and truly clean. I know, I
know, millions of fish poop in the sea every day, so it really isn't clean, but
it feels like it is to me.
    The other
day I got up just at sunrise and walked on the beach so far that I couldn't see
any houses or other people. I was alone-just the sand, the sea and me. It was
beautiful. Peaceful.
    The
waves were coming in gently, barely breaking against the sand. They have a
rhythm, the waves—like the rhythm of a song or the rhythm of making love.
That's what I like to think is going on. The waves are the sea making love to
the land. I've always thought of the ocean as being a "she" and the
land as being a "he." Silly, I know, but that's how I've always
thought of them.
    Anyway.
I was out on the beach and I was listening to the waves run up onto the sand,
when I heard this gentle scratching sound—just barely over the sound of the
sea. I heard it and at first, I thought it was just the wind in the tall grass.
Then I realized that there wasn't any wind. The air was still.
    I
listened and listened and I finally figured out that the noise was coming from
the sand right at my feet. I knelt down and looked closely. I didn't see
anything out of the ordinary, it was just sand. Yet, the closer I got to the
ground, the louder the scratching sound was. I put my head down with my ear
against the sand right at that spot and I could hear it loudly. I heard a whole
bunch of scratching, coming up from the sand and I could hear little squeaks,
too. It sounded like baby birds or something.
    It
wasn't exactly like the chirping of a baby bird, almost like a high-pitched
grunt. I don't know. It's hard to explain.
    So
I'm listening with my ear to the sand and all of a sudden, I feel this tickling
against my earlobe. It was as if I was sitting next to you and you reached out
and wiggled your finger against my ear.
    It
startled me. I certainly wasn't expecting to feel anything. I bolted upright
like a shot. I didn't know what it was.
    I
was about to run away; when I looked down and I see a hole about as big around
as my fist just open up in the sand. Then these green things squirm out. I took
me a second because it wasn't fully light out yet, but I realized that they
were baby turtles. You know the green ones with the flippers—sea turtles? There
were dozens of them just pouring up out of the hole, as if it was the world's
smallest jailbreak.
    They
came out and then they all started wiggling straight for the sea. It's as if
they knew