A Pact

Later that evening as the full moon rise high in the cloudless sky Ruby sat with Matthew on the poop deck, having been granted consent because she was chaperoned. The fishing had been postponed and the men were more restless than days of unending becalm-ment warranted.

“Would you come with me if I choose to leave?”

The question hung in the air between them.

“I thought this was where you wanted to be?”
“We all signed on of our own accord and free will. We are able to leave under such.”
“I thought you would want to stay .... Where would you go?”
“There are many places I would go. But one in particular - to find someone lost to me.”

They sat letting the gentle lap of the ocean caress the side of the boat. A comfortable, liquid rhythm which lulled them both despite their yearning for terra firma.

Ruby turned to Matthew, the moonlight illuminating her cheeks and emphasising the hollows under her eyes. A beautiful and macabre portrait. Matthew saw not Ruby but Maria and rubbed at the sting in his eyes, as if a tiny gnat had flown thousands of miles to embed itself in his eye.

“If you would offer me my freedom – my sovereignty Matthew I would follow you to the end of the earth if you asked.”
“And perhaps that is where you may end up bella,” he said softly as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand left hand.

With his right he took hold of Ruby’s hand, gently running his finger over the place where her fingers had once been and they sat in peace and understanding, watching the moon dance high into the sky above them, and then having reached her zenith, begin her descent having witnessed the pact between the run away wife and deserting priest.