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posture easing a fraction. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    I leaned forward, studying his face. “Oh,” I said in relief. “You aren’t angry. You’re wary and aloof, but not angry. Perhaps even slightly amused. My fears are alleviated. So I may tell you that your experience filled me with sadness? Does that ease some of the pain, Captain?”
    He shook his head, watching me. “It was years ago.”
    “Grief is never really over … I’ve read.”
    He leaned against his pillows and looked up at the ceiling. He seemed easier, his shoulders not quite so stiff and anticipatory.
    “And compassion is helpful? Is it, Captain?”
    He regarded me. “No. Compassion is usually simulated and self-serving and puts me on my guard.”
    “But — ”
    “However,” he interrupted, raising a hand, “I admit your peculiar brand of clumsy earnestness is not entirely … unpleasant.”
    I smiled at him, undergoing a sort of exhilarating pleasure at my success. Now he was truly watching me, his eyes traveling over my face with care, almost no apprehension in his gaze.
    “Strange, isn’t it, Captain, the peculiarities of human nature? That commiseration, while essentially ineffective in that it can neither alter circumstances nor offer instruction, is able to facilitate psychological repair.”
    I continued with little fear, moving forward and dropping to my knees beside the bed. I even clutched his sleeve in my eagerness. His eyes went to my hand.
    “And, Captain, may I say that I wish I could have done something to save you from it … that I could have been there. Wish is such a useless word! And I rarely use it. But I do wish … I wish I could have been allowed to prevent it.”
    His lips twitched in amusement. “I thank you for the gesture, though I’m not sure a woman would have been much help … let alone an infant not yet born.”
    “What I meant was, I wish things could have gone differently for me so that I might have … have changed things for you .” My words slowed as I watched his face.
    “What do you mean?”
    I looked at him lying there, watching me. And suddenly I knew … I knew he would disbelieve me as absolutely as my ex-colleagues had. And I could not fault him for it. The truth was too fantastic to be believed, and took much faith. Surely I would have done the same before my dream and denounced the time traveler as a lunatic.
    And I had done precious little thus far in my journey to prove contrary to that label.
    I rose and sat back in my chair. I looked down at my lap and fingered my skirt. “N-nothing,” I stammered.
    He did not reply, and I looked up to find him watching me. My heart flooded with relief, and I knew I had done right. For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed almost at ease.
    *** *** ***
    The next morning I awoke to find the captain striding into the room. He was fully dressed, and he seemed to have been up for a while. Obviously, he was already hard at work. He went to the desk and began going through the drawers.
    “Have you awoken at last?” he asked shortly.
    I squinted at him. “Captain? You are recovered already?”
    “Of course,” he answered with some arrogance.
    I looked around in confusion. “How … how did I get into bed?” I asked. “I distinctly recall falling asleep on the floor.”
    Without turning, he muttered, “I put you there this morning.”
    “But why?”
    “Because I didn’t want you on the floor at all, let alone night after night,” he answered sharply. “We have to go for a stroll on deck together sometime today,” he continued, finally turning, “to show the crew that we are reconciled …. Not right this minute, Miss Madera,” he exclaimed. “No need to catapult yourself from the bed like a jackrabbit. We can go when you’re ready.”
    I relaxed against my pillows again and rubbed my eyes. “Reconciled?” I repeated and stretched.
    He shifted through his papers. “Yes. Because of that scene the other day. They have to know our