Goggles. Night-vision goggles. What if they could slip out of the harbor without turning on their lights at all? What if they could just glide right past the fishing boats, through the breakwater, and out into the open sea, with no more light than the moon and the stars provided? It was an idea, one that just might quell Juan's anger at him a little.

He hated to think about being out in the Pacific Ocean with the man if it didn't.

9.

The day before the Inspiration Inspiration's departure, parents arrived to see their kids off. Of the thirty-two students on board, fourteen had family members present to bid them farewell.

Carol and Craig Jordan, Melissa's mom and dad, arrived early in the afternoon and checked into the Holiday Inn Harbor View, directly across the street from the Inspiration Inspiration's dock. Running straight to the window of their eleventh-floor room overlooking the water, her carry-on bag still in hand, Carol yanked the curtains open, eager for her first view of the ship that was her daughter's new home. She was horrified to find it nowhere in sight. Had they somehow come to the wrong place?

To the right, she could see planes taking off and landing at the San Diego airport. Looking across San Diego bay, slightly to the left, planes were taking off and landing at the North Island U.S. Naval Air Station. Several navy ships, including an aircraft carrier, were docked at the naval station. The Maritime Museum of San Diego was right across the street. But where was the Inspiration Inspiration?

She dialed the front desk and was relieved to hear that the ship was just around the other side of the harbor for its final provisioning and would be returning soon to its usual spot.

Carol called room service and ordered tea, which arrived just as Craig appeared with the rest of their luggage. The two of them were sitting by the window sipping when the Inspiration Inspiration hove into view, crossing slowly in front of the hotel and docking. hove into view, crossing slowly in front of the hotel and docking.

Melissa was standing on deck as the ship docked, keeping her eyes peeled for her parents. Now that the time of departure had arrived, she was fighting off pangs of homesickness. She'd already bid a tearful telephone good-bye to Eric, who was now back at school. She had mailed cheerful postcards to her friends, telling them how excited she was about the journey-and carefully not mentioning that she was writing rather than calling because if she heard their voices, she might fall apart entirely.

Suddenly she caught sight of her parents hurrying across the street toward the ship, her mom taking two steps for every one of her dad's long strides. Dad, she noted, was wearing the same old Aussie hat adorned with souvenir badges that had embarra.s.sed her no end when he'd worn it to her regattas. Her face dissolved into a silly grin; she'd never been so happy to see anything in her life. She ran ash.o.r.e as they neared the dock and scooped them up in a bear hug. Anyone pa.s.sing by would have had no trouble translating the trio's babblings as expressions of joy.

Melissa gave her parents the grand tour of the ship and introduced them to her cabinmates. Craig and Carol were floored by the size of the cabin, even though they had been told its dimensions.

Thank goodness the girls seemed to get along so well, Carol thought.

And the washroom! That was tinier still, and, Melissa told them, not only could she barely squeeze herself into the shower, half the time the water was only lukewarm.

Carol, happy to be taking maternal charge again, whisked Melissa right up to the hotel room for one last long luxuriously warm shower before her little girl would be forced once more to brave the tepid waters of the hardy sailing life.

Afterward, Melissa, cozily bundled in a terry-cloth robe, sat on the edge of the bed as Carol sat behind her, unsnarling the tangles in her daughter's long thick hair. Of course Melissa was perfectly capable of doing this for herself, but it was a ritual they enjoyed when they had the opportunity.

Craig sat in the armchair by the window, wondering how long it would be before he would witness this lovely picture again. Or might Melissa's experience on the Inspiration Inspiration change her so radically that she would no longer even want to partic.i.p.ate in these family rituals? That was such an endearing quality about his daughter, he reflected. As mature and capable as she now was, she was still perfectly happy to be as cuddlesome and snuggly as a four-year-old. It was like having a preternaturally thoughtful and self-sufficient toddler in the house; all of the charm with none of the ha.s.sles. Of course she had to grow up, he wouldn't want it any other way-but must change her so radically that she would no longer even want to partic.i.p.ate in these family rituals? That was such an endearing quality about his daughter, he reflected. As mature and capable as she now was, she was still perfectly happy to be as cuddlesome and snuggly as a four-year-old. It was like having a preternaturally thoughtful and self-sufficient toddler in the house; all of the charm with none of the ha.s.sles. Of course she had to grow up, he wouldn't want it any other way-but must everything everything change? change?

Both parents listened with rapt attention as Melissa related all of the details since her arrival in San Diego. Her words tripped over one another, her arms punctuated the ones she could get out, her head sometimes jutted forward with gales of laughter-until she felt her hair pulled to its limit against the brush and screeched "Ow!" followed by another fit of laughing. Almost all of the details, at any rate. Although Melissa told her parents that the boy-to-girl ratio was good, and that there were some cute guys...o...b..ard-some of them tall, even-she made no mention of Pierre.

At dusk they went to Planet Hollywood for dinner, followed by a last-minute shopping trip. Melissa needed a pillow as the small blowup one she had brought with her, hoping to save s.p.a.ce in her luggage, had already sprung a leak. Once in the store, all three discovered little items that might just be the very thing to have along on a long and possibly uncomfortable journey: hand and foot warmers, a whistle on a neck cord, extra tubes of lip ointment, small plastic bags, and, to go in them, a supply of peppermint patties, Melissa's favorite candy. Melissa nibbled two or three as she filled up the baggies back at the hotel room, then stretched out on the bed and slept soundly until Carol got her up just before the ship's eleven o'clock curfew.

They held hands walking to the ship and said a teary good night. Carol had told herself sternly that she was not not going to cry, that it would be quite unkind of her to put a damper on her daughter's enthusiasm with any selfish displays of bawling. But as soon as she saw Melissa's eyes begin to fill with tears, she couldn't hold any back of her own. going to cry, that it would be quite unkind of her to put a damper on her daughter's enthusiasm with any selfish displays of bawling. But as soon as she saw Melissa's eyes begin to fill with tears, she couldn't hold any back of her own.

As for Craig, his eyes were half covered by his hat, which he had inexplicably put on even though there was no need for it now that the sun had gone down. He stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and said a hoa.r.s.e, almost inaudible, " 'Night, Baby."

"It's okay," Melissa said. "We're still going to see each other tomorrow."

The gate to the floating dock was locked. The sign on the gate, which Melissa had never noticed, said it would be locked at ten-thirty every night. Melissa climbed the fence and boarded the ship. She moved to the bow, keeping her eyes on her parents as they walked back to the hotel. When they disappeared through the front entrance, she sat down on the bow and stared up at the eleventh floor. She spent most of the night sitting there, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The next afternoon, the day of departure, the crew held a reception onboard for the families. It was primarily a chance for the parents to get acquainted with the crew and the other students with whom their kids would be spending the next few months. It was also an opportunity for Captain Marzynski, Anika Johnson, and Edward Flynn, the founder of Blue Water Academy, to point out the elaborate safety mechanisms in place on the Inspiration. Inspiration.

"Lloyd's Register, one of the top ship-surveying companies in the world, performs an annual check of every single component of every single system aboard the ship," Mr. Flynn told them. "Every five years, Lloyd's requires an even more thorough examination to recla.s.s the vessel.

"For this, the inspectors walk through the door as if they've never seen the vessel before."

He waved his hands in the direction of the engine room.

"They tear down the main engines and generators-all of the pumps and sea valves, the electronic systems, the navigation systems-and examine everything under a microscope."

Craig couldn't help noticing that the man who was a.s.suring them of the safeguards for their beloved children was missing three fingers from his right hand.

"Since the Inspiration Inspiration is registered in the Bahamas, the Bahamian Maritime Authority appoints a surveyor to accompany the Lloyd's surveyors; together, they go through a rigorous checklist of items that literally number into the thousands. It takes more than two weeks to complete the survey. An imposing level of redundancy is required. If anything, no matter how minor, needs repair, the vessel is down until it is repaired. Blue Water Academy cannot operate the vessel until the certificate is issued. is registered in the Bahamas, the Bahamian Maritime Authority appoints a surveyor to accompany the Lloyd's surveyors; together, they go through a rigorous checklist of items that literally number into the thousands. It takes more than two weeks to complete the survey. An imposing level of redundancy is required. If anything, no matter how minor, needs repair, the vessel is down until it is repaired. Blue Water Academy cannot operate the vessel until the certificate is issued.

"Furthermore, although the Lloyd's requirement is that a vessel must go through two such surveys every three years, on the Inspiration Inspiration we do it every other year. we do it every other year.

"Bahamian registration requires that there be six licensed personnel onboard the ship in order to move the vessel. The captain must be certified as unlimited oceangoing and sail-endorsed. The Inspiration Inspiration carries three people who are licensed at this level. First mate Dr. Elliott Williams and second mate Henry Mattox are our fully qualified backups. In the unlikely event the captain is injured or ill, they are eminently capable of taking over." carries three people who are licensed at this level. First mate Dr. Elliott Williams and second mate Henry Mattox are our fully qualified backups. In the unlikely event the captain is injured or ill, they are eminently capable of taking over."

Henry beamed. He had received his sail endors.e.m.e.nt just six weeks before.

Dr. Williams gave a barely perceptible nod.

"And, in the even more unlikely event that some catastrophe should befall all three of them, well, our bosun Mac, while he does not hold certification, is as capable as anyone of sailing this ship."

Mac gave a mock courtly bow at this acknowledgment.

"The Inspiration Inspiration has two captains who rotate every six months," Mr. Flynn continued. "Each has been with the program for over fifteen years. Captain Luke Marzynski here likely has more time at sea than any other living sail-endorsed captain. And now I will stop bragging about him and give him a chance to get in a few words of his own. Captain Marzynski?" has two captains who rotate every six months," Mr. Flynn continued. "Each has been with the program for over fifteen years. Captain Luke Marzynski here likely has more time at sea than any other living sail-endorsed captain. And now I will stop bragging about him and give him a chance to get in a few words of his own. Captain Marzynski?"

When the applause died down, the captain began.

"As you all know, this is no luxury cruise. This is a working vessel, and much of the unique learning experience we offer comes from the students pulling their weight with all of the day-to-day operations. They are not playacting. They are not engaging in busywork or performing superficial tasks. They are crewing this vessel, with all of the responsibility that entails. But I want to a.s.sure you that, in spite of the inherent risks involved in sailing, we do everything we possibly can to ensure the safety of every person on this ship."

All of the parents had already heard all of this several times. Program safety had been stressed in the Blue Water brochure. Kathleen Tutty had gone over it with them at the time of the interview. It had all been laid out again in the admission papers. But no one minded in the least hearing it one more time.

"Students must wear the right kind of shoes on deck and when going aloft. There are stringent requirements as to when their safety harnesses must be clipped on. Stainless-steel safety lines are part of the rigging. The professional crew knows when to add an additional lifeline and when to demand that all students stay within the deckhouse. I'm happy to report that accidents have been few and far between-and the most serious ever was a broken arm."

"And that from slippin' in the soup he'd just spilt!" Mac called out. "Had nothin' to do with the sailin'!"

"True," the captain said. "Furthermore, no student is required to take on a job in which he or she is really uncomfortable-"

"They'll peel tatties whether they like it or no'!" Mac put in, leaning forward in his best pirate-captain imitation, sweeping the crowd with an evil sneer that fooled no one.

"Other than peeling potatoes, of course," Captain Marzynski said, suppressing a smile. "But no student goes higher on the rigging than is comfortable, no student handles lines that are too heavy for them to manage. All All jobs aboard this ship are vital for its operation-" jobs aboard this ship are vital for its operation-"

"Especially tattie peeling!" one of the students yelled.

"Hear, hear!" several others shouted.

The captain grinned.

"We have conducted emergency drills every day since the students arrived-fire, man overboard, abandon ship, every conceivable emergency-and will continue to conduct them on the course of our journey. And, believe me, no one runs a tighter emergency drill than our Mac."

The students let out a cheer. Mac had scared some of them silly with his gruffness in the first drill, but they had soon discovered that it was a cover for his sweetness and a manifestation of his abiding concern for their safety.

The truth was, if anything were ever to happen to a student in his care, Mac would never be able to forgive himself.

"And now," Captain Marzynski said, "before our bosun's head gets any more swollen than it already is, I'd like to introduce our ship's director, Anika Johnson. She's going to tell you a bit about the educational aspects of the program."

Anika seemed slightly out of breath as she stepped up to speak and was rummaging about in her pocket.

Dave Cameron had been wondering where she'd disappeared while the captain had been talking. Was something wrong?

"One of the chief educational tasks the students face, "Anika began, with a graver expression than Dave had ever seen on her usually sunny face, "is the use of this crucial piece of equipment-"

Here she produced the potato peeler she had run to the galley to fetch, and raised it high over her head like the torch of the Statue of Liberty.

Fortunately for Anika, the crowd's laughter went on long enough for her to get her own giggles under control. She ran her hands through her close-cropped blond hair and began again, on a more serious note. The program directors, she told the parents, determine the itinerary eighteen months in advance.

"We take advantage of the prevailing winds, and we like to chase summer wherever it is, staying out of the low-pressure development areas of hurricanes or typhoons. Countries we plan to visit must be politically stable as well as offering a unique educational environment, which we integrate with our strong curriculum based in anthropology, marine biology, political science, economics, history, and geography.

"We must choose a route that allows us to travel fifteen thousand nautical miles in five months, and it must include eighty days at sea to provide the mandatory hundred and twenty-five hours of teaching time per course. We try to add a couple of new ports each year to see which ones are best. We also make every attempt to partic.i.p.ate in major sailing events happening on our course. And home stays with local residents in some ports are always part of the itinerary, and one of the most valuable. There is no better way to learn about a culture than by actively partic.i.p.ating in it with a host family.

"We have an impressive array of ports lined up, with some once-in-a-lifetime sights awaiting us. We have an outstanding group of dedicated teachers. We have a rigorous course curriculum. But I know Mr. Flynn will back me up when I say that the most educational part of the whole year will be what you learn about yourselves as you face the challenges of making the extraordinary journey that is before you. I hope you'll make the most of every minute of it."

Mr. Flynn did indeed back up Anika's words, and added more of his own. He spoke of the difficult journey that the parents would be making as they let their children go. The Inspiration, Inspiration, he told them, would be a floating "greenhouse" that would nurture the growth of everyone onboard, as well as that of the families left behind. Growing pains, he said, would be inevitable; sometimes they would be severe. Metamorphosis was not an easy process. Their journey, however, their metamorphosis, would be an experience to be treasured, an experience that few were privileged enough to make. He ended by asking the students to look carefully at the person standing on their left, and the person standing on their right. he told them, would be a floating "greenhouse" that would nurture the growth of everyone onboard, as well as that of the families left behind. Growing pains, he said, would be inevitable; sometimes they would be severe. Metamorphosis was not an easy process. Their journey, however, their metamorphosis, would be an experience to be treasured, an experience that few were privileged enough to make. He ended by asking the students to look carefully at the person standing on their left, and the person standing on their right.

"Although you have just met, it is these people standing beside you now who are about to become your best friends for life."

That was it for speeches. The moment that had been everyone's focus for the past several months had finally, unbelievably, arrived. It was time.

Hugs. Kisses. Tears. More hugs. Unnecessary reminders- "You won't forget to use sunscreen, will you?" One final hug all around, then Captain Marzynski, Anika, and Dave escorted the parents with firm courtesy off the ship, giving them their most rea.s.suring smiles and waves.

Meanwhile, Mac had sent the students to change into their crew uniforms. As soon as they returned, he gave each of them a task. He knew it would ease the leave-taking.

The gangplank was taken aboard, and Captain Marzynski gave the order to single up the lines-they had all been doubled while the ship was docked. The engine was put in forward gear full to starboard to keep the ship steady as the lines were untied. Craig Jordan and some of the other parents helped with the untying. It seemed to Craig that it made him feel better to have something to do, even if what he was doing served to hasten his daughter's departure.

The breast lines were first to go, then the stern spring line, bowline, and stern line, leaving only the bow spring line attached. The captain swung the helm full to port and the stern started to move from the dock. When there was sufficient clearance, he put the engine in reverse and ordered the bow spring line released.

The Inspiration Inspiration slipped slowly from her berth. slipped slowly from her berth.

10.

The Inspiration Inspiration pa.s.sed Point Loma and headed into the Pacific Ocean, southbound for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. If everything went well, it would arrive there on the twenty-seventh of August, seven days away. pa.s.sed Point Loma and headed into the Pacific Ocean, southbound for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. If everything went well, it would arrive there on the twenty-seventh of August, seven days away.

For the first supper at sea, Jarred, the cook, prepared one of the meals he had found to be especially popular with students: spaghetti and meatb.a.l.l.s accompanied by fresh bread. Sure enough, most of the Floaties enjoyed it hugely, except the few who were feeling a little unwell; the thought of eating anything at all was the farthest thing from their minds. It wasn't unusual at the beginning for a few to be laid low, given the combination of the unaccustomed motion of the ship, fatigue, and a bit of anxiety. Those suffering usually recovered in a day or two.

After the meal, at eight, the first of the watches that would be their nightly routine for the length of the voyage began. The officers had drilled the importance of the watch into the Floaties from the beginning. Several of the Floaties had been sceptical-Pierre, in particular. Wasn't it just discipline for the sake of discipline? he wondered. Discomfort masquerading as "character building," with no real purpose? To much like Caneff, he thought.

And in any case, the radar alarm would sound if another vessel was approaching, allowing plenty of time to alter course. Why keep everyone in a chronic state of daytime drowsiness when technology had made keeping watch by night obsolete?

But that was before the captain related the story of a night, early in its voyages, that the Inspiration Inspiration had come all too close to plowing into a shipping container. The container was lying too low in the water for the radar to pick it up; only the sharp-eyed Floatie on watch duty at one that morning had helped the ship avert a disaster. had come all too close to plowing into a shipping container. The container was lying too low in the water for the radar to pick it up; only the sharp-eyed Floatie on watch duty at one that morning had helped the ship avert a disaster.

"Then, too, as anyone familiar with computers could appreciate, sometimes even the most advanced technology could let you down," the captain said.

Well, Pierre thought, perhaps there was some justification for night watch after all. It was a shame that he had been put on the two A.M A.M. shift for his first watch, though-and worse still that Melissa was scheduled for midnight. But at least they had been a.s.signed to galley duty together.

Anika had divided the crew into six watch groups of five or six students each, with a mix, on each watch, of guys and girls. Students in the same cabin were a.s.signed the same shift so that others sleeping in the cabin wouldn't be disturbed when it came time, two hours later, for a watch change. The watch rotation started at eight each night and ended at eight the next morning.

Some shifts were better than others. The first watch in the evening was deemed best because it ended at ten and you could still get a full night's sleep. A close second was the six-to-eight morning watch, again because at least you could have an uninterrupted night's sleep. All other times meant having to be roused from a sound sleep to go on deck and fulfill your duties. The best you could hope for was a gentle awakening.

As Melissa and Pierre were to learn, the person from the previous watch who came to rouse you from your much-needed slumber might be the type to come bursting into the cabin, snap on the light, and shout "Time to get up!" right in your ear. A different, more thoughtful type might gently touch your shoulder, whispering, "Your turn." After her first night at the mercy of the former sort, Melissa vowed to be one of the latter herself.

At the start of each shift, the watch group went amidships and reported to the officer of the watch, who took attendance. The captain, first mate, and second mate each took a nightly four-hour shift as officer of the watch. The officer a.s.signed specific tasks if anything special had to be done, such as adding or dousing a sail. Each watch group appointed its own leader for two-week intervals, and each member took a turn as leader. The watch leader organized watch duty: two students must be on active watch on each side of the bridge for an hour at a time; two more, who were stationed close at hand but not actively watching, were to be on hand in case anything was needed. The remaining one or two were on call and could hang out in the cla.s.sroom for the duration of the watch.

Most of the time the ship was on automatic pilot, but now and then it had to be steered manually. The watchers on the bridge enjoyed taking the helm and steering. Having something to do beyond endlessly scanning the horizon for the remote possibility of approaching danger helped them stay awake.

One person from each watch was a.s.signed to galley duty each day. Six watches meant there were six people a.s.sisting the cook: two in the galley helping with food preparation, two in the mess hall serving, and two more washing dishes. All six had to help clean the galley and the mess hall after the meal.

Melissa and Pierre found they enjoyed mess duty. Partly because they would have enjoyed any activity that put them together, but partly, too, because the mess was the one place onboard where they could listen to music. The stereo pumped out a great dishwashing beat. The two discovered they could sing and dance and scrub pasta-encrusted plates all at the same time-at least until the ship made a sudden lurch. After losing a couple of plates, though, and nearly slipping in the water that slopped over the edge of the sink onto the floor, they remembered the poor Floatie who'd broken his arm sliding in the soup. They toned it down a bit, just swaying lightly to the rhythm while keeping a firm grip on the crockery.

After the dishes were dried and put away, they went out on the cla.s.sroom deck, stretched out on their backs, and gazed up at the stars. This far away from the lights of any city, the sky was a deeper blue than Melissa had ever imagined possible. It looked like one of the pictures in a Christmas storybook she had loved as a little girl: her favorite picture of shepherds tending their flocks on a gra.s.sy plain, the velvet blue of the midnight sky illuminated by a single radiant star. She never would have believed that such a sky existed outside the pages of a book.

The abrupt change from the bright and noisy galley to the still darkness of the vast night made the couple feel shy with each other. Where only a few minutes before they had been laughing uproariously at the slightest provocation, each one prodding the other to greater heights of silliness, now they couldn't find words to express what they were feeling. Melissa was surprised feelings like this existed outside of a book, too.

Pierre was surprised by his feelings for Melissa. True, he had been struck by her from the moment he had looked up from the baggage carousel at the airport and seen her standing there. But in some way he couldn't explain, his initial animal attraction had grown, with every moment they spent together, into something much more. Much more serious, much more profound-and much more complicated.

He hadn't wanted to get involved with anybody in the program, not really involved. Sure, he had looked forward to meeting some girls and having fun and getting some practice in how to talk to people of the opposite s.e.x, but not a serious one-girl, one-guy relationship. Not yet. He didn't know the first thing about that kind of relationship, and even supposing he turned out to be a quick learner, what would happen at the end of the year? They'd have to go their separate ways, never to see each other again-non, it was too terrible a thought-or else rearrange their lives to be together. He wasn't ready to even think about any of this. Then again, he hadn't counted on meeting someone like Melissa.

For Melissa, meeting a boyfriend onboard was practically part of the seagoing educational curriculum. And yet, in all of her imaginings about this boyfriend, there had been no face behind the idea, no real person behind the abstraction. She had pictured herself, like the girls she knew at home, blithely chattering about "my boyfriend," or having a sure partner for the informal onboard dances Anika would arrange, or sitting beside her tall and handsome guy (for invariably in these musings, he was was tall and he tall and he was was handsome), sipping fruity concoctions from coconut sh.e.l.ls in tropical ports of call, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his arm as they engaged in lively banter with their fellow world travelers, marveling over the amazing sights they had seen. handsome), sipping fruity concoctions from coconut sh.e.l.ls in tropical ports of call, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his arm as they engaged in lively banter with their fellow world travelers, marveling over the amazing sights they had seen.

This long-awaited boyfriend, she now realized, had been little more than an accessory in her mind-a mere escort for whom she had no specific feeling. Whereas the boy who was lying beside her on this brilliant clear night, his hands clasped behind his head, contemplating the stars-for this this boy she was experiencing some very specific feelings. boy she was experiencing some very specific feelings.

She wasn't sure she was ready for the feelings, delicious though they seemed to be. Was Pierre feeling them, too? Surely he must be. She could tell that he was when he looked at her. She had known, from the first moment, way back at the airport, that some inevitable magnetic force was pulling them together. She was sure it was more than just physical attraction, however much that was a part of it. But at the same time, there was the closeness she had felt with Pierre from the beginning: the way they seemed to be on the same wavelength about so many things, the way it seemed utterly natural and comfortable to be with him.

Till this moment, anyway, she thought. Why was she suddenly, just now, feeling uncomfortable with him? Why wasn't he saying anything? How could you ever be sure what a guy was thinking? Did guys think at all?

She knew he enjoyed her company. Hadn't they spent every possible minute together for the past week? But could she dare hope it was more than that for him? She turned to face him, hoping she could pick up a clue from his eyes or his smile that she meant even half as much to him as he did to her. Her eyes found him propped up on one elbow, looking at her, regarding her with that slightly puzzled expression that came over him when one of the kids used an English slang term.

"Melissa? Would you-" he began, very softly. Then he stopped and instead reached out with the back of his hand to stroke her cheek, very softly.

"Of course course," she replied, understanding now, beyond a doubt, what he was thinking.

And so it was official. Now that they knew where they stood with each other, their shyness vanished and they talked for the next hour about anything and everything. Most of all they talked about their feelings for each other. They agreed that there was simply no use trying to deny them and decided not to worry about what might happen at the end of the year until they reached that point.