Twelve

Andy "Will, about Elizabeth..." I began, as the day started anew. His head jerked around from the wandering waves to face me, to catch my eyes in his wondering gaze. "What of her?" "Her name was mentioned yesterday, yet you seemed not to care or even to notice; and still you act such. Is everything all right?" Will turned to the ground, suddenly deciding to avoid my concerned and inquisitive eyes. He didn't speak for a while, it seemed...uncomfortable for him to say anything in response. "Will?" I moved vigilantly nearer, but he backed away. I made a decision not to waste his and my time pursuing the question, so I turned to leave him. After ten paces, I'd reached the crow's nest. Nearly a third of the way up it, Will spoke at last. "Wait!" Keeping a grip with my left hand on the mast, I looked down at the man and watched as he began to scale the mast to meet me. When he and I were level, standing eye to eye, I received the answer I'd sought. "Andy..." He started, only to trail off. "Elizabeth...Elizabeth is, ah..." It seemed difficult for him to say. I took that as a sign that Will had something important to say. What I didn't know was the volume of importance the last word of that sentence which couldn't be completed had in Will's eyes...and in his heart. "Well..." Then he gave up trying to speak again. And there was another moment's quiet. "Take your time." I encouraged. I don't know what I had expected, but that certainly wasn't it. Why was it so problematical for him to answer? The question had been simple enough. Could it be the answer he was having trouble with, for a particular reason? "She—she's dead, Andy. She has been for a year and a half now." That, without question, was not what I'd predicted. It was worse. "What?" I must have heard incorrectly. "She died seventeen months ago...giving birth to our child. They both were killed." No wonder he hadn't mentioned her since his joining of our...duo. "Will, I'm so sorry." For some reason, I really was. I can't explain it; I'd only met him less than a month earlier, yet I could feel sorry for him so easily. "Don't be; you didn't do it." To change the sorrowing subject, I explained what Jack and I had come up with the night before. He agreed that it was a plan that should work with little difficulty, but he, like Jack before him, questioned why we allowed Cortez to live. I told him the same thing I said to my brother. And he accepted that.