Stormspell

by Anne Mather

  'I said we were the only Europeans,' Ruth corrected swiftly. 'There are several families in the village—'

  'And what about your family?' Dominic interrupted again. 'What about this—grandmother? Your mother's mother. Where is she? Dead, I suppose.'

  'Of course.' Ruth couldn't quite understand why he seemed to be getting so angry. 'There's only Daddy and me.' She paused. 'He's all the family I need.'

  'I don't believe it.' said Dominic again, plucking impatiently at the sheet beneath him. 'I just don't believe it. You really don't know any other life, do you?'

  Ruth shifted a little uncomfortably now. 'I know all I need to know,' she declared a little stiffly. 'I'm not ignorant. I've had a good education—better than some girls in England. Daddy says.'

  'I don't doubt it.' retorted Dominic, the harsh tones of his voice deepening into violence. 'But the kind of education you're talking about is a poor substitute for the school of life!'

  Ruth felt the warm colour creeping up her cheeks once more. Watching him, witnessing the change of expression in his dark face, made her feel uneasy and anxious. What had she said? What had she done to arouse such strong feelings? She was certainly ignorant in the ways of men, as Celeste had said, and she wished she knew how to dispel the sudden anger that had come between them. She had enjoyed talking to him. It had been a new and exciting experience. Now she had spoiled it all. and she didn't know how to make amends.

  'I—I'd better tell my father you're awake,' she said, seizing on her only avenue of escape, and he turned his face up to hers once more.

  There was a curious expression in his eyes, a puzzled. probing expression, that sought the tentative uncertainty of hers, and searched their depths with disturbing intensity. To avoid that intense appraisal, her eyes dropped, down, over the grim planes of his face to the muscular expanse of his chest, that was lightly covered with sunbronzed hair. The hair was spread evenly over the upper part of his torso, and then arrowed down to disappear beneath the corded waistband of her father's pyjama trousers. She wondered if the lower part of his body was hairy, too. and then turned scarlet in mortification at the direction of her thoughts.

  'How often do you leave here?'

  She heard the question as if from a great distance, and she forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying.

  'Leave?' she echoed unevenly. 'I—I don't know what—'

  'How often do you visit the other islands?' asked Dominic patiently. 'St Vincent, for example?'

  Ruth blinked. 'Twice—maybe three times a year.' she said, not understanding his reasons for asking, and he made a sound of disbelief.

  'You're wasting your youth, do you know that?' he demanded, shaking his head. 'Ruth, you're missing out on life!'

  'I don't think my daughter would agree with you, Mr Howard.' Professor Jason's voice from the open doorway was cold with disapproval. 'Ruth-kindly go and change your clothes, as I asked you. And don't bother to come back. I will attend to Mr Howard's dressing myself.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  Supper was a subdued meal. Sitting opposite her father. Ruth was aware that he had still not forgiven her for disobeying his instructions and chattering to Dominic Howard, and she wondered how. in the space of a day. one man could cause so much conflict.

  Since leaving the bedroom. Professor Jason had not said more than half a dozen words to her, and although she had tried several times to start a conversation. he had answered only in monosyllables.

  For her part, Ruth found his antagonism almost as hard to understand as Dominic's anger. What had she done to either of them to arouse such strong feelings? And where was the harm in talking to a man who by his own admission was old enough to be her father?

  Deciding she had to bring up the subject that was the cause of their disagreement, she took a deep breath. 'Do you think Mr Howard will be well enough to leave here tomorrow?' she asked, deliberately treading into deep waters, and she had the satisfaction of seeing that her words caused some reaction.

  'I'm sure he will.' her father responded, his clenched fist on the table beside his plate evidence of his feelings. 'I see no reason why he should not leave in the morning.'

  'I see.' Ruth looked down at her plate, aware of a sense of disappointment out of all proportion to the information he had imparted. 'His arm isn't infected, then? I'm glad to hear it.'

  'You're glad he's leaving?' enquired her father, making his first overture since the scene in the bedroom. and Ruth nodded.

  'Of course.' she said, ignoring the small voice inside her which told her she was lying again. 'Why shouldn't I be? I hardly know the man.'

  Professor Jason's shoulders slumped. 'Thank God!'

  Ruth's brows drew together. 'What do you mean?'

  Her father shook his head. 'I don't know. I don't know what I mean, exactly. I don't know what I was thinking. Except that ever since I heard Howard telling you that you were wasting your life, staying here with me. I've been—afraid.'

  'Afraid?' Ruth's own problems dissolved beneath her concern for her father. 'Daddy, what on earth have you to be afraid of?'

  'You.' said Professor Jason simply. 'Your leaving me. I was afraid Howard might have unsettled you— made you dissatisfied—'

  'Oh. Daddy!' Ruth pushed back her chair and went to him. kneeling down beside him and resting her head on his knee. 'Daddy, don't be so silly. You know I'd never leave you. Never!'

  'Oh, my dear . . .' His gnarled fingers stroked the silken curtain of hair that loosened from its leather thong fell in night-dark splendour down her back. 'I'm such a coward. I don't think I could bear it if you were not with me.'

  Ruth sighed, cradling his hand against her cheek, looking up at him with eyes that glistened with unshed tears. 'I thought you were angry with me,' she said. 'I thought you were annoyed because I had disobeyed you. But my clothes were in there, you see. and—'

  'We'll say no more about it,' Professor Jason silenced her firmly. 'I can't deny—seeing you there, with that man. I was a little—displeased. But I know you were not to blame. He was asking you questions. I heard him. As I told you—he's aggressive, arrogant! I shall be glad when he has gone.'

  Ruth nodded, lowering her lids so that he should not see the sudden pain in her eyes. It was so foolish, so stupid to feel sorry that the stranger was leaving their lives as abruptly as he had entered them. He was nothing to her. There was a saying—ships that pass in the night. He had been on such a ship, and for a brief spell their paths had crossed.

  Ruth slept in the living room. Although her father made the suggestion that he should sleep on the couch, his relief was evident when she insisted that he must have the bed. It was his bed. after all. and she was perfectly capable of curling up on the couch. She was smaller, for one thing, and younger, and there was no question in her mind that Professor Jason needed his rest.

  In consequence. Ruth slept shallowly. and she was awakened instantly when she heard someone cry out. For a few seconds she lay there, her heart pounding a little unsteadily as she contemplated the possibility of her having imagined it. but when it was repeated, she got hurriedly off the couch and going to the door, she switched on the light.

  Her father's room was at the end of the hall, and she sped along the tiled floor on anxious feet. The efforts of the day must have been too much for him. she thought apprehensively, and almost cried out herself when the door of her room opened and Dominic Howard appeared, swaying, in the aperture.

  He blinked perplexedly when he saw Ruth, almost as if he didn't recognise her. she thought curiously, and then she wrapped her arms about herself protectively as she realised she was only wearing the skimpy cotton nightshirt that barely covered her thighs.

  'A drink.' he said, licking his lips as if they were dry. 'I want a drink. Where the hell's the telephone around here?'

  'The telephone?' Ruth was torn between the knowledge of her father's needs and Dominic's strangely confusing demands. 'There are no telephones on Indigo, Mr Howard. Go back to bed
and I'll fetch you a glass of water, after I've attended to my father.'

  'Your father?' He looked down at her blankly. 'Who are you? Where am I? What the hell do you think you're doing to me?'

  'Mr Howard—'

  Ruth put out her hand to indicate the room behind him. hoping to divert him back into the bedroom until she had had time to see to her father, but somehow her fingers brushed his arm. and the burning heat of him made her snatch her hand back in horror.

  With another helpless look towards her father's room, she hesitated only a moment before taking his arm again, and urging him back into the bedroom.

  'Get into bed, Mr Howard.' she appealed, making little progress. 'You've got a temperature. Now you don't want to get pneumonia, do you?'

  'I want a drink." he persisted, pushing against her tugging hands. 'Let me go! I want a drink. I tell you.'

  Til get you a drink.' Ruth promised, gazing helplessly up at him. 'Oh. please—won't you get back into bed? I can't leave you like this. You're burning up!'

  Dominic's tawny eyes encountered hers, searching her pleading face with sudden emotion. 'I'll get back into bed. if you'll come with me.' he said, ceasing the struggle, and Ruth was suddenly faced with an entirely new situation. His abrupt transformation from hostile adversary to willing advocate was disturbing, and she was overwhelmingly aware of the lateness of the hour and the unexpected intimacy between them. She supposed he was not himself or he would never have made such a suggestion, but that didn't alter the fact that the suggestion had been made, and he expected an answer.

  'Get—get into bed. Mr Howard.' she said at length, drawing away from him, but now his fingers fastened about her wrist, firm and resistant, compelling her towards him.

  She couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe that he was holding her astonished gaze in an hypnotic trance, or that his free hand was sliding about her waist. It was the first time any man. other than her father, had laid hands upon her body, and the terrifying thing was, she felt incapable of preventing him.

  'Who are you?' he murmured huskily, the tawny eyes glazing as he endeavoured to remember where he was. and his hoarse demand brought Ruth to her senses. As he bent his head, seeking a more physical contact, she twisted in his arms and succeeded in breaking his hold.

  'Get into bed. Mr Howard.' she begged, somewhat breathlessly, from the doorway, and closed the door firmly behind her.

  In the hall, she took several gulping breaths of air before feeling ready to face her father. On no account must he suspect what had happened, and her heart palpitated at the realisation of how vulnerable he was. But when she opened his door, she found Professor Jason was fast asleep, and with sudden hindsight she realised it had been Dominic Howard who had called out.

  That left her in a difficult position. What should she do? Should she wake her father up and tell him that Dominic was ill? She was loath to do so. He had looked so fragile that evening, and the last thing he needed was a broken night's sleep. And yet how could she go back into Dominic's bedroom knowing her own vulnerability? She had to do something— that much was obvious. But what? What?

  There was only one solution. With a feeling of reluctance she padded back along the hall, going out through the kitchen into the yard at the back of the house. She paid no attention to the fact that her feet were bare. She had gone barefoot as often as not since she was old enough to remember, and as she crossed the cobbled area to Celeste's cabin her only concern was that she might not find the woman alone.

  Celeste's protesting voice answered her third knock, and presently she pulled open the door, huge and voluminous, in her cambric nightgown.

  'What time you call this?' she complained, pushing stubby fingers through her tight curls and leaving them standing on end. Then, seeing Ruth's anxious face in the moonlight, she exclaimed: 'Is it your daddy? Oh, honey. Celeste didn't mean no harm.'

  'It's not Daddy,' Ruth admitted uncomfortably, hearing the mattress on Celeste's bed creak, as if someone had turned over on it. Celeste always had a man in tow. and since her children lived with her mother in Kingstown, she felt free to invite whom she liked into her bed. Recently. Ruth had suspected it was Joseph who was occupying that special place, but as Joseph already had a wife and six children, she had decided she must be mistaken. Now, however, she was not so certain, and Celeste's eyes narrowed as she realised it was not the emergency she had thought.

  'Not your daddy?' she repeated, pursing her lips. 'What then? What you want waking me up at this time of night? I'se a working woman. I needs my sleep.'

  'We all need our sleep. Celeste,' said Ruth, rubbing her bare arms as the coolness of the night air chilled her flesh. 'But I'm worried about—about Mr Howard. I think he's got a temperature.'

  Celeste gasped. 'You come here, bothering me about that man!' she exclaimed indignantly, making to close the door, but Ruth would not let her.

  'Please. Celeste.' she appealed, 'listen to me. He really is ill. And I don't know what to do. I don't want to wake Daddy, unless I have to. I thought— well. I though you might help me.'

  'How you find out Mr Howard sick?' Celeste asked suspiciously. 'You sleeping in his bed?'

  'Of course not!' Ruth was horrified. 'He cried out. that's all. And—and I thought it was Daddy.'

  Celeste sniffed. 'You been attending him like that?' she grunted, and Ruth touched her night-shirt and the silken curtain of her hair with discomfited fingers. 'What you expect me to do anyway? I ain't no doctor.'

  'He's thirsty.' said Ruth, glancing back towards the house. 'He said so. Perhaps, if we gave him a drink, and some aspirin—'

  'Huh!' Celeste was sceptical. 'Why can't you do that yourself? You a big girl now. You don't need me to hold your hand.'

  'I do. That is—' Ruther broke off in embarrassment. 'Please. Celeste, won't you come? I do need your help.'

  Celeste looked doubtful, but she was hesitating, and Ruth pressed her advantage. 'You're so much more experienced in these things than I am,' she pleaded. 'I know he would appreciate it.'

  Celeste sniffed. 'Well—' she murmured consideringly, 'all right.'

  'Oh, thank you.'

  Ruth's shoulders sagged with relief, and Celeste turned back into the cabin. 'I'll get my robe.' she said, scratching her head as she went, and Ruth breathed more easily as she walked back to the house.

  By the time Celeste appeared, wrapped about in a scarlet woollen dressing gown that had once belonged to Ruth's father. Ruth had added shorts to supplement her provocative attire. She had no idea how Dominic might react faced with two women, but she hoped there was safety in numbers.

  'He still sleeping in your room?' Celeste asked, bustling along the hall, and Ruth, trailing in her wake, nodded.

  'I'm sleeping in the living room.' she added, her pulses racing as they neared Dominic's door. 'Daddy offered me his bed, but I refused. I'm quite comfortable on the couch.'

  'Hmm!' Celeste snorted, reaching for the handle and flinging open the door. Then both women stopped, aghast. In the light shed from the hall they could see Dominic was no longer occupying the bed. He was stretched out on the floor, and judging by the way he was lying, he must have collapsed.

  'Oh, gosh!'

  Ruth turned anxious eyes in Celeste's direction, but the black woman was already moving forward, bending over the unconscious man. 'He have a fever,' she exclaimed, laying her hand against his forehead. 'Why you not tell me this before, Missy? Mr Howard, he poorly sick!'

  Ruth expelled her breath unsteadily. 'I did tell you. Celeste.' she protested, pushing her hands into the pockets of her shorts and pulling them out again. 'Oh. lord, what are we going to do?'

  Celeste straightened. 'It that cut in his arm.' she declared, her black face brooding as she considered her diagnosis. 'Sometime it happen this way. Feller feels okay, think it not going to trouble him. Then them little germs, they come along and throw you to the sharks.'

  'All right. Celeste. I understand that.' said Ruth, trying to be pa
tient. 'But what can we do?'

  'I could have told you this was going to happen.' went on Celeste, as if Ruth hadn't spoken. 'I seen it all before. You remember that time little Bobby was bitten by his pet mongoose? Your daddy thought his leg was going to be all right, and what happened? Day after, it swell up like a balloon—'

  'Celeste, please!' Ruth took hold of the other woman's arm and shook it. i know about secondary infection. And I'm not interested in what happened to little Bobby! I want to know what we ought to do now. Shouldn't we get him back on to the bed?'

  Celeste looked as though she might take umbrage from the irritation in Ruth's voice, but the desperation in the younger girl's face won her compassion. 'Help me lift him,' she directed, taking charge of Dominic's shoulders, and with a struggle they managed to lever him back on to the mattress.

  Ruth was panting with exertion by the time Celeste was satisfied, and she stood looking down at their patient with troubled eyes. The hectic flush which had coloured his face earlier had now drained away, and his pallor was frightening. His skin had an unhealthy grey sheen, and when Celeste put her thumb against his eyelid the pupil rolled sightlessly upward.

  'What can we do?' Ruth appealed again. 'Oh. Celeste, he's not going to die. is he?'

  Celeste looked at her curiously. 'You care?' she probed sardonically, and Ruth gave her an indignant stare.

  'Of course I care,' she declared, aware of Celeste's interpretation of her flaming cheeks. 'I'd care about anybody in the same circumstances. I care about human life. Celeste. Don't you?'

  'Perhaps not so passionately.' retorted the black woman dryly, making her own assessment. 'But if you feel so strongly about it. I guess you better wake your daddy. We need a doctor here, and ain't no way you and me's going to conjure one.'

  The rest of the night passed in a blur of anxious speculation, of restlessness and impatience, and helpless impotence. Once her father was awakened, he took charge of the situation, and in no time at all Ruth found herself banished to his bed. there to remain until she was summoned.