Authors: Michael Robert Evans
“This is going to take some getting used to,” the elder Robinson said. He tried to suppress a reluctant half-smile as he appraised his son, tall and tan and strong. Then his expression sharpened. “You still have a lot of explaining to do.” He turned and walked down the dock with his sonâtoward the car, toward the mainland, toward the rest of their lives. He didn't put his arm around Arthur's shoulders. He didn't walk especially close to him. But he was working to understand all the things he had learned about his son in the past forty-eight hours.
And Arthur walked slowly, with confidence, with the kind of centered calm that experience and courage and self-reliance can bring. He let the silence blossom, unconcerned about filling the time with idle chatter. The time would come soon, he hoped, for long bouts of serious talking.
Suddenly Arthur felt someone grab his shoulder and pull him around. It was Dawn, with a beautiful smile and a tear on her freckled cheek. “One last goodbye,” she said. She threw her arms around Arthurâand stared deeply into his eyes. Arthur stared back. They didn't kiss. They didn't move. Arthur felt the universe peel away. He said nothing at all. They just gazed deeply into each other's minds, letting their souls intertwine in an intimate and spiritual embrace. Arthur wasn't aware of the passage of time or the position of the sun or even his own breath. He just let himself open to her eyes and felt her open to his. The world stopped turning, and nothing on Earth mattered to him at all.
At last, he became aware of the people around him once again, and he noticed off in the distance a young man watching them. He seemed oddly envious, and after a moment he broke away to follow his own path. Arthur smiled at Dawn.
“True feelings never end,” he said. “I'll be with you soon.”
Then Dawn's father returned and took her arm. She disappeared into the crowd once again.
And so they were gone. The Plunder Dogs had become, in an instant, part of the scattered world of teenagers and their dreams. They would cross paths in the courthouse, perhaps, and then try to stay in touch, but most of them would let it drop after a while. Only a few would keep the bonds strong forever. Arthur had no doubt that he would keep the promises he had madeâto the others and to himself. He walked with his father toward the black Lexus SUV.
And bobbing gently at dockside, trim and clean and old and proud, the
Dreadnought
waited quietly for her next assignment. The Maine breeze rustled through her rigging, and the late-summer sun warmed her decks. The ice would come soon. But after it would follow longer days and open waters, beckoning with promises of new adventures and a few more chances to sail.
M
ICHAEL
R
OBERT
E
VANS
is an award-winning, associate professor of journalism at Indiana University, teaching courses in magazine writing and editing, among others. He focuses his research efforts on indigenous media movements, having spent a year in the Arctic on a Fulbright Fellowship, working with Inuit videographers, and three months in the Australian Outback working with Aboriginal radio and video producers. He is currently working on media issues involving North American native groups.
Evans was a magazine editor in Massachusetts for thirteen years, and his freelance work has appeared in numerous magazines and newspapers. Author of a book on magazine editing published by Columbia Press in 2004, he has two other books on journalism under contract.
68 Knots
is his first novel.
Michael, his wife, and his two sons split their time between homes in Bloomington, Indiana, and New Hampshire.
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