State of Wonder - Ann Patchett [157]
“Who is it?” he called out.
“Marina,” she said.
He stood there for a long time, the globe of the orange caught between his hands, his shirt filthy and torn, his pants torn. “Marina?”
“I’ve brought a gift,” she said in English and then said it again in Lakashi.
There was a low murmuring on the shore and Anders seemed to be listening to it. “What is it?” Anders said.
“Rapps. I’ve got some peanut butter and some oranges and a very large basket of Rapps.”
One of the men raised an arrow towards the boat and Anders walked over and stood in front of him until he lowered it again. He was saying something now, and then he pressed his thumbs into the orange and pulled it in half, taking out a piece for himself and holding it up to them before putting it in his mouth. Then he divided up the fruit into sections and handed it out to the men who were standing around him. “Do not under any circumstances give them the Rapps,” he said calmly.
“It’s what I’ve got,” she said.
“You’ve got peanut butter. If these people find out about the Rapps they’ll gut every last Lakashi by sundown and clean them out. How did you find me?” he called to her. One by one they cautiously laid the slices on their tongues and as they bit down they turned to Anders in their startled pleasure.
“I’ll tell you some other time,” she said. It was all she could do not to jump over the side of the boat, to swim to him.
Anders pointed back at the boat, and after further conference he called to Marina. “The orange is good. They want to know what you want in return.”
She wondered if he was serious, if he really didn’t know. “You,” she said and then added to that the second sentence she knew, Let us have the white man. She wondered if a syllable of it made sense to them. She could feel Easter’s breath through the fabric of her dress. His mouth was pressed against her back. She was an idiot to have brought him. She knew enough to leave Thomas and Benoit behind and then took Easter with her without a thought, like he was nothing more than her talisman, her good luck. No mother would have brought her child into this even if he was the one who understood the river and the boat.
On the shore Anders was pointing to his chest, he was pointing to the boat. A single heron skated down the river. After a long discussion he called again to Marina. “They want you to bring in the boat.”
Once again Marina waited for her fear but somehow it held back. “Should I?”
“Do it,” Anders said. “They have you anyway. Just give them a little bit, a jar of peanut butter to start.”
Marina nodded and reached for the throttle, and when she did Easter came around from behind her. He put his hands back on the wheel. She put one hand on his head and pointed for him to go into shore and he nodded.
“Is that Easter?” Anders said. “I don’t have my glasses anymore.”
“I made a mistake,” she said.
It was only fifteen feet and they came in slowly. The men waded out and the women kept to the shore behind them. Anders was very close now and she could see the hollow of his cheeks beneath his beard and she could see his eyes. When the Hummocca came to the boat Marina could see the shape of their heads was in fact slightly different from the Lakashi just as Dr. Swenson had said. They were not as tall as the Lakashi and Anders towered over them. She handed the one who looked like he was in charge the jar of peanut butter and for a moment he struggled with what to do with it, his hands squeezing the jar. He looked up at Marina, maybe he had meant for her to help him or maybe he meant to kill her, but what he saw there on the boat was Easter. The man with the yellow forehead stood there waist deep in the water, his chest against the pontoon, and the look on his face was the same look that had been on her own face a moment before when she first saw Anders, a cross of joy and disbelief, a look that was willing to accept that which was not possible. He turned and called to a woman on the