Peter Geye - Safe from the Sea

Noah angled his watch toward the candlelight. “It’s only nine o’clock.” “God, it feels like three o’clock in the morning.”

“It’s always earlier than it seems up here.”

She took his hand under the quilt. “So, you think there’s anything going on down there?” She moved his hand to the bottom of her stomach. “The doctor said there were at least six follicles ready to release. We could have sextuplets.” “I’d take anything, but better to start with one.”

“What,” she said, shifting her weight up onto an elbow and looking at Noah, the candle aglow in her eyes, “don’t you think I’d make a capable mother of six? I thought my performance tonight with the Norwegian food was pretty impressive.” “Some of that food was awfully good.”

“I could eat lefse every day.”

Noah kissed her. “I don’t know where we’d find lefse in Boston.” She lay back down. The bedsprings creaked again.

“It was terrific, all the food. My dad loved it. So did I.” Outside, the gale was weakening. Noah listened to the trees still swaying gently. “Every night the wind dies down,” he said.

“Speaking of wind, you should have felt that plane land in Duluth this afternoon. It was terrible. But the view from the window was amazing. We circled out over Lake Superior. I could see the city below. There was a ship outside the harbor. We flew right over it. And there were these veins of reddish-brown water curlicuing from the shore out into the lake.” “Those are the creeks and rivers. Wherever they run into the lake they bring with them the color of the rocks and soil.” “It was so pretty. And I love Duluth. But cold.”

“That’s how everyone feels. The ‘but cold’ part.”

She snuggled next to him. “Not here, though.”

“Definitely not here.”

They lay silently for a while. Noah thought she had fallen asleep. He was about to get up and blow out the candle when she said, “I’m sure this isn’t even going to work, but it’s like I have to try. Why else are we on this earth?” Noah leaned up on his elbow now. “I’ve spent all day thinking about it. All this time trying, I guess it’s just taken it out of me. You, too, I know. Of course you more than me.” He lay down. “I don’t know, I think all the failing, watching you be so sad all the time.” “You were sad, too.”

“Of course I was, but it’s different.”

Again they lay silently, Noah stroking her hair, and again he thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Anyway, even if it doesn’t work I’m glad I came.”

Noah squeezed her hand. “I had a realization today. If we do have a baby, when we have a baby, I realize that I won’t be the most important person in your life anymore. I’m okay with that.” “What in the world are you talking about?”

“I mean when we become parents things will be different. Children, they demand a lot of love. Especially if you’re a good parent, which you will be. That’s all.” “Only a man would say something like that. Only a man would be capable of thinking something like that.” “I didn’t mean for it to sound bad.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Anyway, don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t love you any less if I had a million kids.” And now she did fall asleep. Noah rolled out of bed and blew out the candle.

SOMETIME BEFORE DAWN Noah lay in bed, the stillness all around incomprehensible. Even the stove fire’s hiss was absent. Even the sound of her breath. He ought to sleep, he knew, was tired enough to do so, but his thoughts kept him awake.

After a time he heard his father’s door open and his feet padding across the great-room floor. By his reckoning of the previous mornings, he made the time four or five. The first daylight was still two or three hours away. He stepped out of bed, pulled the quilt up over Nat’s shoulder. She pushed her hair from her face but did not wake. He moved into the great room as the door outside closed with a quiet clap. From the window Noah watched his father cross the yard to the shed. Rather, he watched an apparition of his father, one blurred by the flashlight’s bouncing. The windows in the shed were soon bright. When Noah stepped outside he could feel the frost melting under his bare feet. There were stars enough to see a mile.

Inside, he put a kettle of water on the stove and two of the leftover krumkake on a plate. He wished he had a newspaper to read. When the water boiled he made coffee. He poured a cup and pulled the peacoat over his bare shoulders. He took the coffee and cookies to his father in the shed.

“I thought I heard you milling around,” Olaf said over his shoulder. He was separating two small piles of nuts and bolts on his workbench.

“I brought you some coffee.” Noah set the plate of cookies and the coffee on the bench. “This is it, huh?” he asked, gesturing toward the anchor.

Olaf nodded. “Thanks for the coffee. Didn’t want to wake you two.” “I figured as much.”

Olaf took a long drink of the coffee. He removed a cigar from a drawer at his knees and unwrapped it. He bit off the end but did not light it, though he held a match between his fingers. “You sleep okay?” “Yeah.”

“Natalie staying a while?”

“I’m afraid she has to leave this morning.”

Olaf smiled. A devilish look.

“I know,” Noah said.

“She’s about a hundred times the woman I remember from your wedding. What I remember from your wedding anyway.” “She’s the best.”

Olaf took another drink of coffee. “Well.”

“Well, I guess I’m going back to bed.”

“I’ll be out here for a while. We’ll have some oatmeal when you all wake up.” “Good.”

As Noah left the shed he could smell the first licks of cigar smoke.

He undressed and climbed back into bed. In a voice groggy and pleased, Natalie asked him what time it was.

“A little after five o’clock. Go back to sleep.”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

He had almost fallen asleep himself when he heard her whisper, “Look at all those stars still out.” Noah put his arm around her.

“Is your father still sleeping?”

“No, he’s out working in his shed.”

“I have terrible breath,” she said.

“That’s okay,” he said, and again they made love.

When they’d finished Nat took her pillow from behind her head and put it under her bottom. There was a light beyond the stars in the window now, and they looked upon it. They lay so for a long time, both of them awake and silent. Her hair still smelled of its shampoo. Her skin so soft under his hands. He was exhausted but oddly restored next to her there in bed. He felt gluttonous. It was, perhaps, the most luxuriant hour of his year.

Finally Noah said, “What time do you have to leave?” “My flight’s at one. I guess I should leave by nine.”

Noah didn’t say anything, only held her.

“Unless you need me to stay for anything.” She rolled over to look at his face, put her pillow back under her head.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I could help you take care of him. We could try to bring him to the hospital. Whatever.” “He’ll never go to the hospital, and I don’t blame him anymore. It’s his life. We’ll be okay. I can take care of him.” “What about your sister?”

“She’s going to come when she can. She can’t just leave at a moment’s notice. Tom is busy. The kids are busy.” “I feel so weird leaving like this. Your father must think it so strange.” “He knows what’s going on.”

“I guess this all worked out.”

“It did. I hope it did.”

“How long are you going to stay? What’s your plan?”

“I have no idea.”