by Webb, Peggy
Malone counted to ten before he answered her.
“She’ll love you.”
“Oh, I do hope so.”
Later that evening, long after she was asleep, he eased out of bed and took the tickets out of his pocket. Mr. and Mrs. Malone Corday, seats 9A and 9B, destination Heathrow Airport, London. He locked Ruth’s ticket in the top drawer of his desk, then climbed back in beside her.
“Malone.” Sleepy-voiced, she turned to him.
As he made love to his wife, he thought how he’d meant to take her to see Buckingham Palace.
Things in his life never turned out the way he meant them to.
Chapter 31
She wore a hat with red ribbons. It made her look sophisticated and exotic, as if she’d dressed for some special occasion, though there was no occasion at all, merely a short trip up the mountain to see him.
It pleased Brett that Ruth might have worn the hat just for him. It pleased him too much. And he didn’t even like to think how he’d changed his eye patch three times and watched out the window for her.
“Hi,” he said. “I like that hat.”
“You do?” She touched the end of the red ribbon, smiling.
“Yes. Women don’t wear hats much nowadays.”
“I love hats. I guess that makes me old-fashioned.”
That pleased Brett, too, the notion that she was old-fashioned with old-fashioned virtues such as honesty and pride and honor.
A breeze stirred the red ribbons, and the ends brushed softly against her cheeks. Such a pretty sight, that red ribbon against her skin, moving in the wind like a caress.
For no reason at all Brett suddenly felt afraid, as if something wild were trying to take control of him, something he would know how to defeat if only he knew its name. It stole his voice, this nameless fear, and he found himself staring at the bit of red ribbon without any notion of what he ought to say or do.
Ruth brushed at the ribbons on her cheek, flinging them over her back. The fact that he could no longer see them resting scarlet against her dark-golden skin gave him some relief, though not enough to discover his voice again.
“I suppose Malone’s in London by now,” Ruth said.
Somehow that was the key to Brett’s recovery. Malone.
“How long will he be gone?” he asked.
“Three days.”
“That should give us plenty of time to establish some great rapport.”
It wasn’t so much what he’d said as how he reacted to the words, once spoken, that gnawed at Brett like a fierce animal. Suddenly it seemed as if all noise had ceased, and there was nothing left except the sound of their breathing.
“With Cee Cee, you mean?” Ruth said finally.
“Of course. With Cee Cee.”
This time when they went inside, Ruth didn’t reach for him. After what had just happened in hidden places deep inside him, he didn’t know whether or not he would have taken her hand even if she’d reached for his.
He guessed he’d never know.
Chapter 32
She’d lain under him compliant ... and as responsive as a wax mannequin. His wife.
“That was a brilliant lecture, Malone.” The sound of a colleague’s voice brought him back to the present.
“Thanks.” Travel weary and homesick, he found the praise balm for his soul. What he would like to do that minute was leave and fly home to Ruth, but what he had to do was make the big push for money. The coffers of the Corday Foundation had never been overflowing, but within the last few months they’d been dangerously low. Almost daily a new animal-preservation group sprang up, and the available charitable contributions were spread thin. Not that Joseph and Brett complained. Like the gorillas they loved, they could live off the jungle. But now more than ever Malone wanted to put the foundation on solid financial ground.
He looked at the people seated around the dinner table —wealthy, pampered people with nothing more to do than figure out which charity they would choose as their big tax write-off.
It was time to go in for the kill.
“The Corday Foundation is doing a great job in preserving the habitat of the mountain gorilla,” he said, “but as you know, that takes funding. I’ve prepared a report that shows the increase in the gorilla population since the establishment of our ...”
“All in due time, Malone, my boy. What we really want to know about is your brother’s work with Cee Cee. Tell us more about Dr. Corday.”
Always Brett. As if Malone hadn’t worked his tail off earning a degree in veterinary medicine. As if he hadn’t earned the right to be called Doctor.
“Brilliant man, your brother.”
“Absolutely,” Malone said. “The best in his field.”
Would Ruth have been more active in bed if Brett had been the one holding her? Suddenly he had a vision of them on top of the mountain: Ruth, lying in his brother’s arms; Ruth, twisting herself around Brett, panting, eager, hungry.
“You want to know what my brother is doing while I’m sitting in expensive restaurants drinking expensive wine?” What was his brother doing? He jerked up the carafe, and as he poured, wine spilled over the side and pooled on the tablecloth. Immediately ashamed for his jealous thoughts, Malone smiled at his guests, hoping to charm, hoping to make them forget the white linen napkin he’d laid over the red spill.
“I hope you have all day,” he said.
Malone always knew how to draw a laugh from an audience. As he launched into a recital of Brett’s accomplishments, he took mental note of the level of wine in the bottle.
It was low. When it ran out, he could order more.
That was his only consolation.
Chapter 33
Cee Cee hated the stink female on sight. Facing the corner, she drew her arms tightly across her chest and poked out her lips.
“She’s sulking,” Brett said.
“Does she react this way to all strangers?”
The stink female had a nice voice. It reminded Cee Cee of the songs Brett used to sing at night before she fell asleep. She covered her ears with her hands. She didn’t want to like the nice voice.
If she ignored them, they would go away. She could smell the stink female behind her. Peeping over her shoulder, she saw Brett’s mouth moving.
“She’s never done this before,” Brett said.
“Was it something I said? Something I did?”
“No. You behaved correctly, Ruth. It’s Cee Cee whose behavior needs adjusting.”
Cee Cee’s fingers worked swiftly and silently.
“Dirty stink female. Cee Cee hate.”
“Is she signing?”
“Go away, stink woman.”
“Yes,” Brett said. “But I can’t see her fingers well enough to know what she’s saying.” “Cee Cee, you have a visitor. Her name is Ruth,” he signed.
Cee Cee twisted her head and bared her teeth at Ruth.
“That’s not nice, Cee Cee. Where are your manners?”
Brett was not happy with her.
Cee Cee checked the top of her head to see if her pink hair ribbon was still in place, then turned around and grinned at Brett. Her grin froze when she saw Ruth’s hat.
Slyly she bent over her hands and signed, “Cee Cee want hat.”
“She’s shy,” Ruth said.
“Cee Cee’s many things. Shy is not one of them.”
Peeping between her fingers, Cee Cee grinned up at them. Ruth squatted beside Brett. Cee Cee’s hand was a blur as she snatched the hat and rammed it on her own head.
“Ruth, leave the area,” Brett said. “Now. Move slowly. Don’t do anything to upset her more than she already is.”
Cee Cee had her own swings. She leaped for the highest one, holding on to the hat with one hand and catching the steel bar with the other. Grinning, she set the bar in motion.
She was happy now. She had Brett all to herself.
“Cee Cee, why did you do that?”
“Want hat.”
�
��It doesn’t belong to you. It’s Ruth’s hat.”
“No. Belong Cee Cee.”
“Give it back.”
“No. Belong Cee Cee.” She punched her chest emphatically to emphasize her point. Then she leaned down and punched his chest. “Hat belong Cee Cee. Brett belong Cee Cee.”
“It’s all right, Brett. She can have the hat,” Ruth said from outside the bars.
“Ruth, I can’t allow her to get by with this kind of insurrection.”
Agitated, Cee Cee hung on to the hat and made her swing go higher.
“Cee Cee, give me the hat.” Brett signed emphatically and used his mad voice.
Cee Cee smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. She tried to engage him in a game of peekaboo. He held out his hand for the hat.
Putting on her saddest face, Cee Cee took the hat off her head. She offered it to Brett, but before he could take it, she snatched off one of the red ribbons.
“Cee Cee,” he said.
“Let it go, Brett. It’s all right.”
Cee Cee placed the red ribbon on top of her head and signed, “Cee Cee fine female woman.”
But Brett didn’t see. He was already outside the gate.
Her fingers moved rapidly, making the same sign over and over: “Cee Cee sad.”
But there was nobody in her cage to see her, nobody to care.
Ruth’s hat dangled from Brett’s left hand as he led Ruth away from Cee Cee’s enclosure. He rubbed the soft, woven fabric between his fingers.
“Thanks for rescuing my hat,” Ruth said. “Though it wasn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it was. If I let Cee Cee get out of control, my entire project is lost.”
“Of course. I should have known that.”
She pushed her heavy hair back from her forehead. The underside of her arm was as delicate as the wings of butterflies. And just as vulnerable.
Staring at skin that looked as soft as velvet, he circled the pad of his thumb on her hat. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on Ruth’s upper lip. His thumb moved on the straw brim, round and round. Her pink tongue darted out, licked her bottom lip.
“Ruth ...” Funny how the underside of a woman’s arm could make a grown man forget what he was going to say. “Here’s your hat.”
As he placed the hat on her head, her hair curled around his fingers, dark, shiny, silky—and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that when he went to bed that night, he’d still feel her soft hair clinging to his skin.
“I’m sorry about the torn ribbon,” he said.
It fell across her cheek and dangled under her chin.
“Just pull it off. It doesn’t matter.”
Ruth turned her face up to his, and angels stole his breath away.
“I think it will come off if you just give it a yank,” she added.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
She looked up at him, bright and expectant. His hand trembled. Her cheek was close, so very close.
“I trust you,” she whispered.
So did his brother.
Brett gave one quick jerk, and the torn ribbon came off in his hand, but not before he’d felt the texture of her skin, like velvet, as he’d imagined, underneath his fingertips. He stepped back quickly, stuffing the ribbon into his pocket.
“There, now,” he said. “It’s over.”
Her tongue bathed her bottom lip, and he wondered how such an innocent gesture could make him hot with yearning.
“Yes. It’s over,” she said.
And he knew it was, knew it had to be. Before she suspected. Before he committed some irrevocable act of dishonor that would destroy them all.
Chapter 34
Somebody was sending his wife flowers. He’d been gone only three days and already she had admirers. Probably somebody who knew Malone, somebody who was certain it would take a better man than he to satisfy a woman like Ruth.
The white florist’s box lay on the hall table, a note from Eleanor propped beside it. “These came this morning. I knew you’d be home today and could take them up to Ruth.”
He considered ripping the box apart and tossing it into the garbage can. But that would be childish.
His wife was a beautiful woman. Before he came along, she’d probably had suitors lined up for miles trying to win her favors. Why shouldn’t one of them still be trying to win her?
In the kitchen he poured himself a glass of liquor for courage. Just one.
Why hadn’t he thought of flowers?
For a moment he thought about tossing the card and substituting a note from himself. The bile of self-disgust rose in his throat.
What kind of man was he becoming?
Next time he’d bring flowers. Jewels, too, if he could afford them.
He tossed down the drink, then poured a second glass. For luck.
If he left now, he’d get to Brett’s compound in time to bring Ruth back to their cabin before dark. If absence really did make the heart grow fonder, she’d be so grateful to see him that she’d fall into his arms before they could even get the door shut.
He popped a breath mint into his mouth and slicked his hair back. Then he picked up the florist’s box and headed up the mountain to get his wife.
o0o
They were not in the compound.
“Ruth! Brett!” The sound of his voice echoed off the walls. Clutching the florist’s box, he hurried through the compound, searching the rooms.
They were nowhere to be found.
Malone clutched the box so hard, the sides caved in. For three days his wife had been with his brother. Brett ... always Brett ...
“Mother! Daddy!”
Malone had tied his shoes all by himself. His parents would be very proud of him. He raced down the hallway. They were standing in Brett’s room, hovering over the desk.
“Come see what I can do.”
They didn’t even turn around.
“Not now,” his father said.
“In a minute,” his mother said.
He peered around them to see what they were looking at. It was his brother’s science project.
“Someday our son is going to win a Nobel prize,” Eleanor said.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out which son she was talking about. Brett, who was the brightest and the best.
The leather patch on Brett’s desk accused him. A man who had sacrificed an eye for his brother would never make a play for his brother’s wife.
Malone smoothed the sides of the florist box, and then followed a path into the jungle. In the distance he could hear their voices blending with the distinctive sounds of Old Doby bossing his gorilla group around. When Brett was not working with Cee Cee, he was outside studying the behavior of one of the gorilla groups. Why hadn’t Malone thought of it sooner?
He could hear his wife’s laughter and the soft cadences of the South in her voice. Sweat popped out on his brow. God, how was he’d missed her.
Giant ferns whispered beneath his feet, and he caught a glimpse of bright plumage as a bird took flight through the dense, dripping rain forest. For a moment it was suspended, wings beating the sultry air, as if the power of its song held it aloft. By now he guessed Brett had taught Ruth the names of every bird, every flower, every tree.
The sound of her laughter drifted down to him. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that since he’d brought her to Africa.
What else had his brother taught her?
Impatiently, he pushed aside the ropes of greenery dripping into his pathway.
“Damned nuisance.” He couldn’t comprehend how Brett could stand it day in and day out. Malone would go crazy up here.
The path curved sharply into a lush green clearing, and suddenly there she was. Ruth. His wife. Her face radiant and her hand resting in the curve of his brother’s arm.
Chapter 35
If Brett lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the look on his brother’s face. Rage. Jealousy. Pain. It was as if every injus
tice he’d ever suffered had suddenly boiled to the surface and spilled over.
Ruth squeezed his arm once, convulsively, then let go.
“Malone, I didn’t hear you,” she said.
“That’s obvious.”
She stepped apart from Brett. Guilty.
Guilty of what? Of being so incredibly lovely that she made his heart ache?
Brett wanted to hold her close and protect her from the unjust accusations he saw in his brother’s eyes. But were they unjust?
Did it count that he’d spent the last three nights sleepless, battling thoughts he had no right to have about his brother’s wife? Did it count that he’d wanted to do everything he knew his brother must be thinking?
But he’d done nothing. He’d been Ruth’s teacher, and she’d been a vivacious, charming, remarkable student. Didn’t he deserve the small, secret pleasure of her hand touching his arm? Of her face turned up to his, radiant with laughter?
He wouldn’t dignify his brother’s silent accusations with an explanation.
“I’m glad you’re back, Malone,” he said. “How did it go?”
For a heartbeat he thought Malone was going to press the issue, but suddenly his face relaxed into the easygoing, charming smile Brett knew so well. Knew and loved.
“Great. I brought in big bucks for the foundation. I expect everybody to be properly grateful.”
“Are you hinting for a raise?”
“Hinting, hell. I’m outright demanding it. A man with a wife has certain needs, you know.” Malone put his arm around Ruth’s waist then bent down to nuzzle her neck. “You can take that both ways, honey.”
Ruth’s face flushed. Did she pull slightly away from Malone, or was that Brett’s imagination?
What kind of monster had he become? Hoping Malone would fail so he could pick up the pieces ... the way he’d always done.
Ruth flushed as she saw him watching her. He hadn’t imagined her discomfort. His emotions seesawed wildly between hope and fear, between the absolute conviction that fate would not be so cruel as to set Ruth in his path, then make her unattainable—and the dark premonition that some new despair awaited his beloved brother.