Chapter Three

Locke burst forth from the jungle onto the beach. Sayid turned from where he stood repairing Claire's hut. The hunter reared back and, holding his unsheathed knife at his side, took a deep breath. "Damn," he muttered. "Missed it again."

"The wild turkey you purported to see?" Sayid asked.

"I swear they're on this island," insisted Locke. "I've seen the tracks."

Sayid shrugged. "I have no reason to disbelieve you. It is simply that I have yet to witness their existence. Turkeys are not known for their stealth and camouflage, are they?"

Locke raised his knife in Sayid's direction and gestured at him with calm yet breathless assurance. "We're going to have a turkey for Thanksgiving."

As he walked off, Claire watched him with her bottom lip drawn in under her top one. She let out a short giggle, and Sayid looked at her and smiled. "Enlighten me about this impending Thanksgiving holiday," he said.

"What should I know?" she replied. "I'm Australian. I just know if involves a lot of food. And men in black hats."

Sayid raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, and Indians."

"Native Americans," Hurley corrected her as he drew up to the hut with slow and heavy footsteps. Sawyer followed behind him.

"Hell, I'm a native American," the southerner drew.

"Really?" Hurley asked, turning to look him up and down. "What, you got, like, some Cherokee in you or something?"

"No. I'm native to America."

Hurley still appeared slightly baffled. "Anyhoo," he said, turning to Claire, "Sawyer and I found some stuff that we think will work kind of like cranberries, you know, and we were wondering if you could, like, experiment with them and make sauce."

"Why me?" she asked. "What am I, some kind of chef? Why don't you ask John or Rose or Kate?"

"Kate!" Sawyer exclaimed with a loud snort.

"Locke is busy tracking the turkey, and Rose is going to be making pie…sort of," Hurley explained. "Can you just try it? Please?"

"Well," she smiled, tilting her head with affable resignation, "when you ask like that…" She took the bowl of berries he extended her. "So I have five days to get it right? And you'll keep me supplied?"

"Sure, Martha," said Sawyer, "we'll bring you another big bowl right before the gig."

"We're not sure it's really in five days," Hurley said, "what with that whole time anomaly thing awhile back. But if the calendar Locke and Sayid drew up is right, then we'll be celebrating at the right time."

As Hurley and Sawyer walked off, Sawyer gave Sayid a pronounced wink.

"Why does he keep doing that?" Claire asked. "He does it every time he sees you."

"No," replied Sayid, securing a loose horizontal beam. "Only when he sees me with you."

Claire looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "So, do people think we're a couple?"

Sayid pressed his shoulder against the beam while he tightened the knot. "I cannot judge what people think."

That was an irritating response. Claire had hoped the question would furnish her with some useful information because, frankly, she was wondering if they were a couple. Three days after Halloween, he had asked her to take an evening stroll with him while Rose watched Aaron. And he had kept asking her to join him on these walks every other evening after that. Sometimes she talked about Charlie; sometimes he talked about Shannon; sometimes they talked about life on the island, and sometimes they simply did not talk at all. But he had never tried anything. Well, there had been that time he had wrapped his arm around her waist, but that had really only been to steady her when she tripped.

Sayid tugged on the beam to make sure it was secure. "It should hold," he assured her. "If you have any further problems, please let me know."

Claire decided it was best to assume he was only interested in friendship; after all, hadn't he come out of Shannon's tent half-naked not long after he had started "dating" her? Surely he would at least have tried to kiss her by now if he was at all attracted. Maybe he was just lonely. Their walks were pleasant. She could leave it at that.

Claire had achieved a real measure of independence in this place. There was something liberating in the knowledge that she had managed to go it alone these past few months. The father of her child had been nothing but a selfish heartbreaker, and Charlie, well, Charlie had been sweet but volatile. Claire had learned to trust herself.

Of course, Sayid was anything but volatile; at least, ever since the truce, he had been steady and dependable. And he would probably let her be herself. He never dispensed parenting advice, anyway.

Claire now thanked Sayid for his help, and as he began to leave, she called after him, "Are we walking again tonight?"

His smile was subdued. Claire noticed that he rarely smiled broadly, but he did smile, a lot more these days than in the months after Shannon had died. She liked to see that; it made her think very differently of him than she had been inclined to think in those more tumultuous times…it made him seem younger, more carefree, more…accessible? It didn't injure his appearance, either. In fact, whenever he smiled, she noticed this soft light in his eyes that made her—

"Do you not have to perfect your sauce?" he asked.

She laughed. "I have five days. I think I can skip practice tonight."

"I will see you this evening, then," he promised before walking off.