A Gentle Fragrance

by Pamela Griffin

  She closed the book, her golden-brown eyes focusing on him. “Very well. What is it you wish to discuss?”

  Unnerved by her unruffled manner and steady gaze, Bill averted his attention to the thatched roof. “Tell me about this island. How long have you lived here?”

  “I was born here.”

  “What about the village? Why don’t you live there instead?”

  He heard her slow intake of breath. “After my mother and her unborn child perished, my father moved from the village to build this hut.”

  Bill looked her way. “How old were you?”

  “Seven.”

  “You’ve lived here alone all this time? Why?”

  She stood up from the hammock and laid the book on the desk. “My father should be better able to answer your questions when he returns. I must tend to chores.”

  “Wait!” Bill didn’t want to have the hut all to himself again. “Don’t go. I promise to keep my inquiries less personal if you’ll stay. And I’ll try to be nicer.”

  She hesitated.

  “Cross my heart,” Bill said, making the motion with his right hand.

  “Cross your. . . ?” Her words trailed off, confused.

  “Never mind. Really, I’d like to hear more about your island, so I’ll know what to expect once I’m on my feet.”

  She tilted her head as if considering his request. “I will tell you what you wish to know. On one condition.”

  “Condition?” This couldn’t be good.

  “You are recovered enough to sit at our table. Tonight, instead of sleeping, you will listen to my father read the words from the Holy Book. It would please him. On this condition only will I remain and tell you about our island.”

  Bill grimaced. What she asked wasn’t so much, he supposed, though he didn’t look forward to the prospect. Agreeing to commit to an hour or more of sure drudgery might be worth it to spend time in her company and learn about this place that would be home until the next ship arrived.

  “All right, doll. You got yourself a deal.”

  “A deal?” Her brows lifted. “This is a yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded once, as graceful as a princess acknowledging one of her subjects. Pulling her thigh-length hair over one shoulder, she took a seat near his mat. All her movements were graceful, fluid. Again he became entranced by her beauty, then by her words as time slipped into some invisible slot and she opened up to him the mysteries of her island.

  Three

  Sarah was confused. Naturally, it pleased her that Bill had agreed to take part in hearing her father read from the Bible, but she couldn’t help feeling his motives were suspect. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes when she caught him watching her, as if he lay in wait like one of the sharks who prowled the waters. Uneasy around him, she looked for excuses to be absent. Conversely, she felt a pull toward him she couldn’t explain.

  By the light of the candles, Sarah sneaked glances Bill’s way. The first two nights he’d listened to the gospel, he’d seemed indifferent, enduring the hour. But tonight, his eyes were alert, his expression tense as he watched her father.

  After the book closed, a crackling silence reigned.

  “I don’t understand,” Bill said at last. “Paul helped capture and kill Christians, and God chose him?”

  “Yes, another wonderful example of God’s saving grace. We’re all sinners; all of us deserve hell and damnation. But because of a loving Father, we have assurance of salvation through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

  Frowning, Bill looked out the window. After a moment, he stood. “I need air.” He walked through the door, moving more easily than before, yet his actions were slow, stilted.

  “You should go to him.”

  Stunned, Sarah regarded her father. “I? Why should I go to him?”

  “Because he’ll listen to you.”

  Amazement gave way to incredulity.

  “Speak with him,” her father urged. “He turns a deaf ear toward me, and I’ve noticed he listens to you.”

  She didn’t know where her father had gotten that impression. If anything, Bill argued with her on a continual basis.

  “I’ll do as you ask,” she said, rising from her mat. But I’ll not like it.

  “You’re a true credit to a missionary, Sarah.”

  Sarah pondered his words. She’d been trained to be subservient to her father as her authority. At the same time, her mother’s sister taught her to rely solely on an inner source for strength. Her father called the strength Jehovah. Aunt Lefu called the strength many gods. Sarah did not know what to call it. She believed in the Almighty God, of whom her father preached. Likewise her aunt spoke of the island gods. Sarah had attended village rituals, seen the people’s devotion. Was their homage and commitment without basis? Did only one God exist?

  She found Bill standing on the cliff where she’d stood seven nights ago, looking out to sea. As on that night, the moon hung low, and a hibiscus-scented breeze stirred the warm air.

  Hearing her approach, he glanced over his shoulder, then back out to sea.

  “You believe in all your father says?” Bill’s question was abrupt, his voice taut.

  “I believe there’s a God, and Jesus is His Son.”

  He turned fully to look at her. “From the way you said that, I sense some hesitance on your part.”

  “There is much yet I don’t understand.”

  “And here I thought you and your kind had all the answers.”

  When she didn’t respond to his caustic remark, he stepped closer. She tensed, again reminded of the shark. The look in his eyes seemed dangerous.

  “What’s the matter, pretty Sarah? Do I frighten you?” He slowly brushed his fingertips along her hair, down to her shoulder. Shivers of uncertainty and pleasure raced along her spine.

  “No man frightens me.” She kept her face expressionless as he baited her.

  His brows arched in mockery, even as his mouth quirked, as though not entirely pleased with her answer. “What does frighten you?” He traced his fingertips down her shoulder to her elbow. “Monsters in the night? Head hunters? The bogeyman?”

  “I’ve learned to contain my fears, to not let them conquer me.”

  “Have you? How admirable. Just as a good Christian girl should do.” His fingers and thumb went to her chin, and he lifted it high as though inspecting something. “Ah, yes. There is the sign of victory in those eyes! And yet, every champion has his weakness. What’s your weakness, Sarah?”

  Before she could answer, his lips were on hers in a kiss meant both to seduce and possess. Almost immediately it turned gentle, tender. Taken by surprise, she didn’t fight him. A floodgate of emotions raged through her soul. As abruptly as the kiss came, he ended it. Released his hold on her chin. Stepped back.

  Offense gave way to compassion when Sarah saw remorse infuse his eyes.

  “Forgive me.” His plea was no more than a croak.

  Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and left her. Sarah watched him go, thrashing the bushes out of his way, his step heavy and swift as he headed for the beach as though he were the one now being hunted.

  Thoughts in a whirlwind, she returned to her father’s hut. Of all the emotions Bill’s unexpected kiss evoked, the one that alarmed her most was the longing she’d felt for it never to end.

  ❧

  Bill stared at the crested waves sweeping the barren beach, his eyes seeing little. Annoyed frustration with himself and with these religious-minded people had goaded him to move forward, to break through Sarah’s aloof barrier with an earth-shaking kiss. But he was the one who’d felt the earth move beneath his feet. And he didn’t like what was happening to him.

  When his lips pressed against her soft ones, the desire to strike out instantly vanished. As quickly as the kiss altered something indefinable inside Bill, so also came the realization that he didn’t want to change Sarah. At that split second the kiss became genuine, no longer a trap he’
d designed to cause her to fall off her throne of cool detachment.

  He released a breath fraught with aggravation. He had to get off this island. What kind of man was he that he would try to seduce the chaste daughter of the holy man who’d opened his home to him, cared for him, shown him nothing but graciousness?

  The worst kind of man.

  That kiss not only opened his eyes to the discovery that he preferred Sarah just as she was, but it unearthed the realization that he didn’t like himself. And he wasn’t the type comfortable with inward examination. Only since he’d come to the island had he analyzed his motives.

  Bill wasn’t sure what he believed about God, but each day that passed in the missionary’s presence brought Bill closer to the plateau to which both the missionary and his daughter were trying to take him. If Bill did accept what they told him, how could he then face himself? His sins were too great and too dark to count. To acknowledge a God and to believe in His Son would push Bill to a point from which there was no return and from where there was no escape. No more running.

  The thought was almost more terrifying than being hunted by criminals.

  ❧

  Finished with the wash, Sarah cradled the basket of wet linens under her arm and retraced her steps uphill. The sand burned her feet, and she carried a great banana leaf above her head as a sunshade to block out the sun. The air seemed sleepy as it always did this time of day, any sound unusually loud and misplaced. Many villagers had retreated into the shade of their homes to sleep, but Sarah felt restless.

  Catching sight of Bill ahead, standing between two palms and staring out to sea, she hesitated. For the past week he’d steered clear of her, and while his erratic behavior confused, oddly it also disappointed. In the nighttime, she lay awake in her hammock and relived his kiss; in the mornings, she pushed it from her mind.

  He turned upon hearing her footsteps rustle in the grass but didn’t move away as he’d done every other day this week when he caught sight of her. Instead, he waited until she drew near. Without a word, he took the basket from her, and together they continued up the path. Silence thickened between them, broken only by the sound of the surf upon the beach and the gulls’ mewling cries.

  He glanced at her, then back up the path. “I’m not a decent man, Sarah. Where I come from, I’m not even considered a good man.”

  She gave time for his heavy words to settle before she spoke. “There is no one who’s truly good, according to Father. All men are evil or have evil thoughts. The goodness must come from without, from relying on God. No one owns true goodness unless they know its Source.”

  He released a pent-up breath. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is. Father says the problem with many accepting salvation lies in the fact that people want to complicate what should be kept simple. Logic and intelligence confuse, and it is only with the mind and heart of a child one can understand.”

  He halted, turning on her. “You confuse me, Sarah. You speak with such conviction, even if you are only parroting your father. But I’ve watched you. I followed you last evening.”

  Sarah’s face flushed hot. Bill had spied on her? Her father would be grieved to learn she’d accompanied Aunt Lefu to the temple, something she’d done under great pressure.

  “You shouldn’t have followed me,” she said gravely. “There are dangers of which you know nothing. Things considered taboo to those not of our island.”

  “Then tell me so I can understand.”

  His blue-eyed gaze drilled into her, and she looked sideways, to the churning sea. How could she tell him when she herself didn’t understand the pull that drew her to her mother’s people? During the years her father was ill in spirit, she had drawn close to her aunt, attended tribal rituals. Though she rarely partook of them, she’d opened her ears and mind to the beliefs they reflected.

  “How can you expect me to understand, when you yourself seem so lost?” he asked quietly.

  She was saved a reply when she heard clicks and squeals and caught sight of a familiar shape breaking above the water. Smiling, she put her hand to his arm. He drew back a little in surprise.

  “Come, you must meet Maliu.”

  “Maliu?”

  “Come,” she said pulling on his arm that was not holding the basket. “You will see.”

  ❧

  Like a child, Sarah almost dragged Bill down the sandy slope and toward the expansive sea, where a rock basin formed a pool. He worked to keep a good hold on the basket. The stab wound had healed over, and her father had removed the thread from the stitching yesterday, but now his side ached due to the fast pace at which she led him.

  “Sarah, what’s this all about?”

  “You’ll see.” A glint colored her eyes, but it was her mysterious smile that captured his breath. She turned toward the water. “Maliu! Come!”

  To his surprise, a blue dolphin broke the ocean’s surface, jumping high into the air. The sun glinted off its sleek back as it completed its arc and dove headfirst into the water.

  Understanding dawned. “The dolphin that saved my life.”

  She nodded and took hold of his hand. “Come.”

  Weary of struggling with the slipping basket, he dropped it to the sand before moving with her toward the rock basin.

  He watched as she waded into the water, but he held back. She looked at him.

  “Our clothes’ll get wet.” The explanation sounded lame even to his ears.

  She giggled, as if wading into the water fully clothed was an everyday occurrence for her. “They will dry,” she teased, pulling him with her.

  Bill allowed her to lead him into the frothy, warm water, which lapped at his ankles, then at the knees of his trousers. He’d never seen her like this, so carefree, so happy. The transformation amazed him, and rather than watch the dolphin, which swam closer to receive her friendly pats and soft words, he watched her.

  “You can pet him.” She looked up. “He won’t bite.”

  Bill patted the area close to the blowhole on the mammal’s head, more to please her than the dolphin. Its skin was rubbery and cold. Through intelligent, friendly black eyes it viewed Bill and let out a series of whistles and clicks.

  “Maliu likes you,” Sarah said in approval.

  Bill wondered how she had arrived at such a conclusion. Before he could ask, she swung her legs over the rock and mounted the dolphin as one would a horse. Her frame was slight and the dolphin was long, but her unexpected action put Bill at a loss for words.

  As if it had taken this course many times, the dolphin swam with Sarah, circling the shallow waters as she held to its dorsal fin. Her hair hung in a silky curtain, its ends trailing the water. Her face and arms glistened with droplets, and Bill thought he’d never seen a more breathtaking sight as Sarah enjoying a ride on her pet.

  She continued laughing as the dolphin neared him. Instead of reentering the pool where he still stood with water past his knees, she slid off the dolphin’s back until she was immersed neck-deep in the sea.

  “Swim with me?” she asked, treading the water.

  The appeal of Sarah almost had him diving in to frolic in the sea beside her. “Too much physical activity isn’t good for me right now.”

  Concern covered her face, and her gaze lowered to his shirt. “You are in pain?”

  “Not much. I think I’d rather just sit and watch you.” He took a seat on the lumpy lava-like rock shelf that rose inches above the water.

  Her smile seemed uncertain, but she gracefully turned her back to him. Her head dipped beneath the water to reappear yards farther out. The loose, knee-length flowered dress she wore didn’t impede her movements, and he watched her swim through the water as if she were a mermaid born to it. With every ounce of restraint he held back, though he wished to be there with her, to capture her in his embrace, to hold her, to touch her, and yes, to kiss her again.

  He inhaled a shaky breath.

  Sarah, Sarah. . .what are you doing to me? />
  Four

  “I would like more coconut milk.” Josiah leaned back in his chair and held out his cup to Sarah. “Please.”

  Brows gathered in evident confusion, she looked into the empty container, then at her father. “I will need to gather them. We finished the last with our meal.”

  “Take your time.”

  Alert, Bill watched Sarah leave the hut, then turned to look at the missionary. He’d never noticed Josiah had a particular fondness for the ultra sweet, watery milk and suspected a deeper reason hid within the man’s directive to his daughter.

  Josiah closed his Bible, laid it with infinite care upon the desk, then turned his attention toward Bill. “I have long considered what I’m about to say, and I have a favor to ask.”

  Bill tensed. Gravity steeled the man’s quiet words, putting Bill on the immediate defensive. “I can’t promise anything.”

  “Nor should you without knowing the circumstances.” Josiah shifted his gaze to the window and the sea beyond. “When you are ready to leave our island, when a ship comes to take you back to the States, I want you to take Sarah with you.”

  Bill stared. Surely he couldn’t have heard right.

  Josiah looked at him, his eyes deadly serious. “This is the only home she’s known, and it’s time she discovered where my roots lie. I want her to be among other God-fearing Christians, and though there are those here who have come to know Christ, she isn’t finding what she needs on this island. I blame myself. Had I been more attentive after my wife died, she might not have sought wisdom from her aunt, who deplores my faith. I only pray any damage done is reversible. You can help me, Bill. You can help me make my peace with God by doing what’s best for Sarah.”

  Bill shot up from his chair and paced to the window. He plowed a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know the man I am.”

  “I’ve watched you these past weeks. You have a hunger for God, a sincere thirst for knowledge of the truth, and I haven’t seen that desire exhibited in many young men. What are you, thirty?”

  “Twenty-seven.” The reply came automatically, his mind still in conflict with Josiah’s request.