The sky is bright and clear—in a beautiful shade of azure blue.
Hazy and see–through are the clouds drifting slow.
As much as the eyes could perceive, around and beyond ripples the deep blue ocean.
The lone cateraman boat sails sensuously in a braced speed.
The wind stirs Neva's loosened hair, a hand fixing the disarrayed dark strands flying over her face.
She is absorbed in the scenery, with half the mind drowning in a sunken rumination.
There is the whooshing sound made by the ocean waves, the occasional chirps of seagulls, the clicks of marine mammals—which are often thwarted by Neva's sons' amused quips, ringing life in the heart of the ocean whenever they discover dolphins leaping out and diving in the sea in a pattern of a tilted crescent moon.
They are in the lounge area of the loftiest surface of the boat, bounded by only a roof and glassed railings.
Rhean and Isaiah stands leaning on the railings, basking under the sun off the shade, peering, discovering the marvellous mysteries the ocean has to offer.
And her daughter rests on her lap, wrapped up in her embrace and covered with a baby–pink plush couch blanket.
Inaya is sleeping now, after she had fed lunch and given medicines for fever and pain relief.
Earlier, she was crying—complaining about the ache in her bruised ribs, the discomfort from the sudden fever, and her dislike of the ocean; as the sea makes her father sick, and she dislikes her father being sick.
She misses home and wants her papa.
But she hasn't even seen him in these whole past two days, even though he is in the same boat as them—for he is never out of his cabin.
Neva had also said so; as for her father to heal faster, he should get as much as undisturbed rest as possible.
The twins often asks about Ishmael.
Neva, in repeating the same excuse for countless of times; reasoning an illness for Ishmael being kept shut in his cabin—eventually masters the lie.
Neva looks down at Inaya and smoothens over the strands of wavy hair veiling her forehead, escaping the two buns of pigtails on either side of the little head.
She frowns at the sensation of Inaya's skin. She places a hand on Inaya's forehead and feels the heat again.
Neva breathes in shakily as she feels the rapid beating pulse on Inaya's neck. Her pretty little face is flushed, and her breathing growing fast and shorter.
"Has the fever improved?"
Neva turns and sees Rhett walking up to them.
She shakes her head and glances down at her daughter. "I'm afraid it's worsened."
Rhett places his palm on Inaya's forehead, her burning skin making him frown.
"She's cold. I'm taking her to the cabin." She says and adjusts the blanket over Inaya. Goosebumps appear on the delicate skin.
It is getting chilly, and the wind is harsher as the evening approaches.
Inaya is dressed only in a light and loose cotton frock under the quilt, as she felt hotter before.
"Let me carry her," Rhett says and lowers his arms.
Neva carefully aids him in shifting Inaya in his arms. Rhett slowly straightens, cradling Inaya's limp body.
Neva stands up along and covers the blanket over Inaya, and Rhett helps amend the comfort around the child.
Neva then calls the boys, distracted by the ocean, to come downstairs with them. They reluctantly agree.
As they descend the stairs, Isaiah makes a fuss about longing for the ocean already.
Now, how will Neva convince him without the fright eclipsing the poor little heart—that they are not here for a vacation.
But a voyage for a greater cause; of a holy mission, of healing, and the promises of blessings.
"I have yet to see the pink dolphins!" Isaiah grumbles.
"They aren't found in the ocean." Neva replies.
"But why?!"
The lounge area leads down to the commodious zone of cockpit where Ace currently is seated on the couch, occupied with a laptop placed on the table.
The boat sails steadily on auto–pilot.
Ace looks up at them. "Is everything alright?"
"About alright," Neva says. "Just Inaya's fever."
"Watch after the kids." Rhett says, sliding the glassed door with a free hand that opens to the kitchen and the dining quarter.
"Uh–sure," Ace but visibly frowns looking at the two boys burdened on him.
Neva, though, still offers him a grateful smile.
Then she turns to a grumpy–looking Isaiah and Rhean, who is awfully silent.
"Be nice and don't cause trouble. I'll be right back," she says, and follows Rhett out the door.
.
.
.
Rhett settles a slightly squirming Inaya on the bed. He draws over the blanket on her and then the other thicker quilt rolled on the side of the bed.
"Mumma," Inaya weakly murmers.
"I'm right here." Neva sits on the edge of the bed and holds her hand.
"Rhett, do we have more quilts?" Neva asks as she secures the quilt firmer over Inaya. Inaya is still shivering, her hand ice–cold in Neva's hold.
"Yes. I'll go get more," Rhett says and leaves the cabin.
Neva sighs and caresses Inaya's head. She thinks she is deligently following the doctor's instructions. Inaya is well fed and rested.
Her medications are given on time, but she has suddenly developed a fever, and Neva fears an underlying issue complicating due to the bruises in her ribs.
Before the start of all this, Inaya has barely recovered from a flu.
And now they are in the middle of nowhere—if she is furthermore unfortunate with not a sight of an Island, any facilities nearby.
And so anxious doubts begins circulating her mind again.
A worry peeling off a wound of another.
She does not even know; how is she to give life to this purpose?
What will the first tread be?
Rhett soon ambles in with two thick quilts.
Neva stands up and grabs one.
She then unfurls the quilt and drapes it over Inaya.
"It should be enough." She says and places the other folded one on the foot of the bed.
Neva goes back to sit on her previous space, and Rhett sits beside her.
He places a reassuring hand on her thigh.
Neva meets his eyes.
"It's been three days. When are we going to get there?"
"Ace sent out a drone this morning.
There's an Island with human habitation around 120 nautical miles away. It'll probably take another five or six hours."
Neva's eyes flickers. "Then we'll be there by tonight?"
"Yes."
"Could it be Miraeth?"
"Hopefully." He pauses for a moment, his gaze unfocused.
"What is it?"
"Before Ace could find out more, the drone malfunctioned and we lost trace of it." He removes his hand and looks at her earnestly.
"Are you sure you want to do this? If you have a change of mind, we still have enough fuel to reverse the boat."
"I'm sure." Neva says solemnly and turns to check on her daughter.
She is sleeping better now. The two quilts with the lighter couch blanket warm enough to fight off cold and the shivers.
She looks at him and smiles.
"I know you're filled with uncertainties and dread the unknown. And I do have my own horrors about how am I going to face all of it. But I choose this.
I choose to do this with you. It was never me alone who was chosen. But all of us.
And you.
I'm complete with you."
"And I have faith that we won't be betrayed anymore."
Rhett reveals a small smile and tucks loosened strands of hair in her ear. "I don't doubt you—or your God."
He cups her cheek, "I'm just afraid I'll fail you again."
He faintly shakes his head. "I can't—" he swallows.
"I won't be able to bear losing you again." He looks at her witheringly.
The rare murk of fragility evident in his eyes.
Neva smiles softly. "You won't. I know you won't." She holds his hand and brings it to her heart.
To her living heart beating strongly and in an unhurried pace.
Rhett leans and kisses her forehead.
"No matter what. Never be off my eyes." He whispers, urgent and pleading.
"Never leave my side."
"I won't." Neva replies and lightly squeezes his hand.
"If you regain your memories, always remember; the past is only a dried pasture in winter. A trial that wewill overcome."
"For the blooming future ahead in our spring garden." She concludes his verse.
"Yes." He smiles assuredly and wraps her up in his embrace.