Dear Olivia,

Can life get any better, Livia? I don't think so. I've found my family, reunited with them, and now -- now I have a ship! I have had my ship for nearly two weeks now, but I have only today found the time to write about it.

It's beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous, like you.

Mi tío, Juan Carlos? When he saw me, he came running. He recognized me immediately, before I even saw him. He crushed me in a hug (surprisingly tight for such a frail old man) and began to shout in Spanish: "I knew you would come! Boy, do I have a ship for you!"

I couldn't get a word in edgewise, he was so elated. He kept calling out to everyone we passed in the shipyard, "Mi sobrino! He's back! They said he was dead, but I was right! Correcto! Hah!"

Mi tío is a very passionate man. I think you would like him, Livia. I will have to take you to Cuba one day. No doubt, my family will spoil you rotten and propose to you for me. I have only been reunited with my mother for two weeks now, and she already wants to know when she will have grandchildren.

Anyway, my uncle led me through the port, practically clicking his heels together with joy, and he stopped suddenly at this giant concrete storage space, guarded by a humongous metal gate. Juan Carlos pulled his keyring out of his pocket and began to count his keys until he came to numero trienta y seis. Thirty six.

The moment he opened the gate, he was back to shouting again, this time about the beauty of the ship he had created for me in the years I was missing. And he did not boast in vain, Livia. Every praise he gave his ship was duly fitting.

I am on the ship now, Livia. Tomorrow, I will set sail for Galveston. I hope you are back from Brazil so I can tell you about this.

Guess what my ship is called? La Aceituna. The Olive.

        I hope to see you soon, chica,

                  -Robin xx

XXX

Robin couldn't sleep. Who could, with such big things on the horizon?

In all his years on the seven seas, all his years as a pirate captain, Robin had never been this excited for a voyage. His entire body buzzed with energy. Finally, finally. He was going to find her.

Robin rolled out of bed and grabbed his pocket knife. His put on his boots, sliding the knife into his left one. He needed some fresh air.

The ship's deck was silent with night stillness. Even the wind quieted as he opened the door. It whistled through his hair, hardly making a sound. He closed his eyes. He could navigate this ship in his sleep, it felt so familiar to him. He knew every dent in the hull, every dip in the deck's wood, every pattern on every doorknob. He had it all memorized.

He sat down on the quarterdeck to think about The Fina.

He'd had Olivia memorized, too. Every time he touched her, he'd commemorated her into his memory, to keep her safe for the rest of his life. To keep him company when he missed her.

Eight years later, Robin thought about her less. He didn't obsess over her murder anymore, didn't replay the scene in his head every night before going to sleep. But he couldn't let go of her, either. She'd become a part of him, as painful to lose as a limb.

Memories were like a prosthetic. He could get by with them, to replace the limb he'd lost, but he still felt the phantom pain. She was gone, he knew. She couldn't hurt any longer. Yet, he still woke up to the sharp stab of a knife to his side, her last moment's pain projected into him.

Olivia's nephew didn't look much like her. He had darker hair and eyes, lighter skin. But he had the same energy about him, and his voice reminded Robin of her. He had that determination about him, too.

Robin wasn't surprised to find a tear rolling over his cheek. He looked up at the stars, wondering which one she was. But if Olivia was going to be something other than human, it wouldn't be a star, if she had a choice. It would be . . . a wave, she would be a wave. Or a sea shell.

He remembered her body lying dormant in her casket. God, she was beautiful. And it broke his heart, every time he thought of her pale, cold face.

He closed his eyes and let the rocking of the ship take him back to a night many years ago on the deck of The Fina.

Olivia threw herself down on the deck, grinning like a madwoman. Full of liquor and maybe a little starlight, she glowed with carefree energy as she pulled Robin down with her.

"Take it easy, Love," Robin chuckled.

"I don't wanna," she whined, pressing Robin to the deck. Olivia leaned over him, her eyes smiling soberly although she'd drunk enough tonight to fill a swimming pool. "You want to jump off the plank with me?"

He frowned at her, but couldn't stay frowning for long. Her smiled was infectious. "I love you, but no."

"You love me?"

His blood ran cold through his body. It had just slipped out, without warning. He looked at Olivia, who looked back at him. He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't take it back because . . . well, it was true.

"I love you too," she whispered.

Robin's heart beat went wild. He couldn't look away from her eyes -- those beautiful, stormy blue whirlpools that drew him in and wouldn't let him go. There were a million things he wanted to say, but instead, he sighed and said, "You're drunk."

Livia looked angry. She rolled to her side, away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. "That doesn't change anything."

"Yes it does. You won't even remember this in the morning."

She scowled at the night sky. "I will. It's not like I just now decided that I love you. I've known that for a long time. Don't doubt me."

Robin smiled at the stars. "I don't doubt you, mi amor."

"Good." Suddenly, Livia jumped on top of him, pressing her lips to his. He savored her kiss, his stomach burning with passion. "I love you," she muttered, her forehead resting on his shoulder. She tucked her head under his, speaking into his neck. "And I always will."

He held onto her, unsure when he would ever find this level of openness in his Livi again. "I love you too," he whispered. "And I always have."