Charon's Crossing

"A lot has happened since... in the past couple of centuries, I guess."

"What powers these ships of the air? Not sails, surely."

"They have engines."

"Steam engines?"

"No. No, not steam." Kathryn lay down on her stomach, her elbows propped in the sand and her chin in her hands. "I don't know much about this, Matthew. Some—the older ones—run on gasoline. Oil, I guess you'd call it. Others—the ones that just swooped over us—have jet engines. And before you ask, I haven't the foggiest idea how jet engines work."

"And what is their burthen?"

"Their what?"

"How much can they carry?"

"Well, some are really big. The one I took from New York to Grenada, for instance—"

His eyes popped open.

"You have flown in these things?" She nodded. "What is it like? Can you see the entire world from up so high?"

"It feels that way, sometimes, especially when you fly above the clouds, but—"

"Above the clouds," he said in a reverential whisper. "God, I cannot imagine such a thing."

She thought of what he would say if she tried to explain rockets, and space stations, and flights to the moon.

"There's so much I should tell you," she said, "but I can't. I'm already in over my head. I live in a high-tech world... a complex one, I mean. And I work in a complex field, but I never realized how many things I've just accepted on faith without really understanding them."

"Like me," Matthew said softly. He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close to his side. They lay quietly, not talking, just luxuriating in the simple joy of being together.

"I feel like a man just awakened from a long sleep," he murmured after a while. "My head spins with questions."

"Well, ask them. I'll do my best to answer."

"I should like to know more about the war. My war. It ended honorably, you said."

"Absolutely."

"How long did it last? What were the decisive battles? Did the Prince of Wales remain Regent or did the English finally find the balls to rid themselves of their corrupt aristocracy? And what of Madison? Did he—"

"Stop!" Kathryn flung out her arms and groaned in mock dismay. "I give up."

Matthew grinned, rolled onto his belly, and traced the outline of her lips with the tip of his finger.

"Too many questions at once?"

"Too many questions I can't answer. I can see now that I should have paid more attention to my history textbooks."

"I find it difficult to believe you weren't a good student."

"Oh, I was." She smiled. "But not of history."

He bent his head and kissed her gently. "I wish I had had more formal schooling. At least, I learned to master my letters."

"How?"

"The mate of my first ship had a theory about idle hands and idle minds. He taught me to read and figure." He grinned. "I admit, other than the Song of Solomon, I didn't get much out of the Good Book, but I did come to enjoy reading Tacitus, years later, and a bit of Virgil and Caesar, without the mate's cane to goad me." He bent his head and kissed her, slowly and deeply, until she sighed with pleasure. "What were you like, when you were a little girl?"