by Anne Mather
Doctor Francis departed that afternoon, after assuring himself that his patient was on the mend. Ruth accompanied him down to the harbour, where the motor launch was waiting to take him back to Kingstown. and as they reached the small quay he gripped her hand very tightly.
'Take care,' he said, bending to bestow a warm kiss on her forehead. 'And remember what I told you. Get your father to let you come to Kingstown and stay with Mary and me. You could do with a few days' holiday, couldn't you? And some new clothes, from the look of these.'
Ruth looked down at the shabby tee-shirt and cotton skirt in inconsequent appraisal. 'I never wear skirts normally,' she confessed. 'But Daddy said—'
'I can guess what Daddy said,' retorted Doctor Francis dryly, and Ruth looked a little unhappy as she remembered the terse way the two men had bade goodbye to one another. 'But believe me, it's time you stretched the apron strings. Promise me you'll mention my invitation to your father.'
'I will.' Ruth nodded. But she didn't hold out much hope for its expedition. The Francises had invited her to St Vincent before, but her father had always maintained she was too young to leave the island without an escort. And as he never stayed away from Indigo, she hadn't either.
She bought some fish for supper, before going back to the bungalow. One could buy all kinds of seafood from the stalls on the quay, the men of the island relying on their catch to supplement their income. There was a small workers' co-operative, organised by Father Andreas, and the fruit and vegetables that grew so plentifully beneath the hot Caribbean sun were harvested and transported to St Vincent, and sold in the market there; but the island was small and in consequence the income was small also. Still, the West Indians managed to survive, and Ruth had always envied them their evident joy of living.
She was sauntering up from the harbour when she encountered the elderly priest himself, coming down the path that led to the chapel. Some years ago, with the villagers' help, he had succeeded in erecting a wooden building that served as both a house of worship and a dwelling place, and as Father Andreas's needs were small, he was well content. His contacts with Ruth and her father were mostly infrequent. Professor Jason's strong views on the weaknesses of religion and the power of the church vying with the priest's vows of allegiance. But he was always happy to see Ruth and now he smiled his welcome.
'I hear you have a visitor.' he continued, after their initial greetings were over, in the faintly guttural accent that still lingered, in spite of the fact that he had left Salonika many years ago. 'An Englishman, by all accounts. And you were his benefactor.'
'Oh . . .' Ruth waved her arm deprecatingly, 'all I did was find him on the beach. His yacht was wrecked in the storm, and he was lucky to survive.'
'Indeed he was.' Father Andreas scratched his bald pate. 'The Lord moves in mysterious ways, as they say.'
Ruth, smiled, her own beliefs less implacable than her father's. 'You must come and visit him. Father.' she invited. 'Doctor Francis says he'll probably have to stay here for several days.'
'Ah.-yes. Doctor Francis.' the priest nodded. 'A good man. a god-fearing man. A man one can trust implicitly.'
Ruth knew this was a sideways knock at her father, but she didn't respond to his remarks. Instead, she indicated the newspaper parcel in her hand, and said: 'I must go. I don't want the fish to go off. Daddy wouldn't thank me if I spoiled his supper.'
'That I can believe.' retorted Father Andreas dryly. 'God go with you. my child.' and with the sign of the cross he stepped aside to allow her to continue her journey.
But as Ruth passed him she turned hesitantly: 'Father Andreas?'
'Yes?' The priest stopped, too. and looked back at her.
Ruth coloured. 'I wanted to ask you something. Father.'
'Yes?' Father Andreas was patient.
'Yes.' Ruth explored her upper lip with her tongue. 'I wondered—that is—would you say I lived an unnatural life. Father? I mean.' she hastened on. as his button-bright eyes opened ever wider in surprise. 'would you say I was cocooned? That I was missing out on—well, on life?'
Father Andreas frowned then. 'Who has been saying such things to you? This young man? This Englishman? I thought he was in a state of collapse when you found him.'
'Does it matter who said it?' Ruth exclaimed. 'Is it true?'
The priest tugged at his chin with a thoughtful hand. 'I suppose one might say your situation here was not usual.' he admitted at last. 'Most girls of your age are in school or in work. But that has always been so.'
But am I so different from them?" Ruth appealed. 'Just because my friends are black, not white, does that matter?'
'No!' Father Andreas conceded that point energetically. in fact, it might be said that your life is everything a young girl's should be. You're intelligent. you don't discriminate between races, you care for your father; this is as it used to be. Perhaps.' he hesitated, 'perhaps your life is fuller than that of other girls. It is. after all. only a rehearsal for the next world. Myself. I think what some people call life is simply the devil's alternative.'
Ruth nodded, not altogether satisfied with his answer. She should have known. A priest was hardly likely to sanction any other course. And in any case, she didn't really know what it was she was supposed to be missing. Perhaps if she had told Father Andreas that Doctor Francis had made the comparison. he would have had more sympathy for her case, but he might not have believed her. and that would have been worse.
'Does that answer your question?'
Father Andreas was looking at her anxiously now. and Ruth forced a smile. 'Thank you. Father.' she said, avoiding a direct response, and with a nod the priest went on his way. his cassock flapping in the breeze that blew up from the ocean.
*
The next morning Dominic was much improved. Celeste told Ruth as she served her breakfast, giving the news with a certain air of smugness, as if she. and she alone, had the right to such privileged information. She was in Professor Jason's confidence, and the only nurse he had. and she took great pleasure in telling Ruth how she had assisted in changing the dressing on Dominic's arm, and that she had exchanged a few words with him when she had taken in his breakfast earlier.
'He feeling more himself.' she declared, setting a rack of toast on the table. 'He even get up to go to the bathroom. Doctor Francis going to be real pleased with him.'
Ruth looked down at her plate, propping her head on one hand. 'You've been a great help,' she conceded flatly. 'I'm sure Daddy much appreciates it.'
'I think so.' Celeste was complacent. 'I think he trust me to know what's what. He ain't even seen Mr Howard for himself yet today, so I knows he don't worry none.'
Ruth looked up at this. 'What do you mean? He hasn't seen Mr Howard for himself? Where is Daddy?'
'He ain't up yet.' retorted Celeste, pouring her coffee. 'You sure you don't want no eggs?'
Ruth pushed back her chair. The night before she had insisted her father returned to his bed. and once again she had slept on the couch. But it was unusual for him not to be up. particularly in the circumstances. and her mouth was dry as she left a startled Celeste and hurried along the hall to his room.
To her relief, her father's eyes were open, but the strain of the last two days had left its mark upon him. He looked drawn and grey, and when he would have struggled up in the bed. she urged him down again.
'You look tired.' she said, and it was an understatement. 'I think you should stay where you are this morning. Celeste and I can manage.'
Professor Jason shook his head. 'Celeste,' he said, obviously finding it an effort to articulate. 'Celeste can mange. Just make sure she gives Howard his tablets. Francis will be over later today to check on his progress. I may stay in bed until he arrives.'
Ruth sighed. 'All right. Would you like some breakfast? I can easily fetch you something.'
'Perhaps some coffee.' conceded her father weakly. 'Nothing to eat. And would you pass my tablets from the table beside you?'
Ruth hand
ed him the bottle, and watched as he shook two out on to his palm. Then she poured him a glass of water from the jug he kept covered on the table beside the bed. and raised his shoulders slightly while he swallowed them.
'Thank you. my dear.' he said, offering her a faint smile as he fell back on the pillows. 'And now I think I'll rest. If I'm asleep when you bring the coffee, just leave it beside the bed.'
Celeste looked disturbed when Ruth related the conversation to her. 'Your daddy, he overwork himself yesterday.' she declared. 'He stay in bed all day. You and me. we'll look after Mr Howard, hmm?'
Ruth looked uncertain. 'Daddy said—'
'I don't want to know what your daddy said.' retorted Celeste shortly. 'What he don't know about won't hurt him. Now you finish your breakfast, and then go and fetch me Mr Howard's tray. I got plenty to do. 'stead of running round after some fool man!'..
Ruth opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Why not? she thought, dismissing the stirrings of her conscience. She couldn't expect Celeste to do everything, and her father shouldn't expect it either. Besides, he need never know.
None the less, it was with a sense of duplicity that she delivered her father's tray to his room, knowing that when she left there she intended going into Dominic's bedroom. However, her father was asleep, as she had expected, and it was easier to be defiant when she wasn't observed.
It was a little unnerving opening Dominic's bedroom door. Somehow she never quite knew what she might find on the other side, and her breath eased out more evenly when she found him propped against the pillows. The plate of eggs Celeste had provided lay scarcely touched beside him. but some orange juice and coffee had been drunk, and some toast had also disappeared from the tray.
'Hi,' he greeted her in some surprise as she came into the room. 'I wondered where you'd got to. Don't you care about your patient now he's on the mend?'
Ruth's cheeks were pink as she surveyed his teasing face, so much less haggard now than on the previous day. Two days' growth of beard had left a stubbly bristle on his chin, but in spite of this dishevelment. he was still a distractingly attractive man. After her own introspection, she was doubly aware of him in a way she had not been before, and the memory of their last encounter coloured her reactions towards him.
'How—how are you?' she ventured, approaching the bed with caution. 'You've been very sick. We've all been very worried about you.'
'Have you?' His lips twisted. 'And I thought you'd abandoned me.'
'Oh. no.' Ruth linked her fingers together. 'It was just—what with Doctor Francis being here, and—and Daddy--'
'You decided to keep out of the way. Having done your bit, you wanted no part of the blood-letting!'
'It wasn't like that.' Ruth moved her shoulders unhappily. 'Anyway. I'm glad you're feeling better.'
'Oh, yes, much better.' He inclined his head, running probing fingers over the bandages that covered the lower part of his arm. 'Thanks to you. I hear that you saved my life.'
Ruth caught her breath. 'I—hardly—'
'That's not what I heard. That doctor—Francis— he said that if you hadn't alerted your father—'
Ruth shook her head. 'You'd probably have come round and summoned help.'
'I don't think so.' He ran an exploratory hand over his bare chest, and she averted her eyes from the curiously disturbing gesture. 'I don't remember much at all of what happened that night.' He frowned. 'How did you know I was out of bed?'
'Didn't Daddy tell you?' Ruth reached for the tray and endeavoured to appear busy, gathering the plates together, and checking the contents of the coffee pot. 'You—you called out. You must have been delirious.'
'And you heard me?' he asked, leaning forward, so that the sheet that was covering him slipped lower to display an absence of any pyjama trousers. His long-fingers curved gently round her arm, just above her wrist. 'Thanks.'
Ruth could hardly breathe. She couldn't swallow, and her lungs felt constricted. His face was so close to hers, she could have touched it by turning her head, and the scent of his warm flesh was disruptive.
'I—it was nothing.' she articulated chokily, but he didn't let her go, and short of making a silly scene she was obliged to humour him.
'I don't agree.' he averred, smoothing his thumb against the inner veins of her wrist, and she found the action aroused almost as much emotion as his words of two nights before. 'I think I owe you a lot. Much more than I can ever repay.'
Ruth's knees shook. 'Re—really, it's not necessary for you to—to feel this way.' she stammered, alarmed at the sensation of weakness he was evoking. She wanted desperately to turn her head and look at him. and she guessed if she did so. he wouldn't draw away. But she was too afraid. It was obvious he didn't remember what had happened two nights ago. and she was too timid to promote the same kind of intimacy.
The situation was rapidly becoming untenable, and with a shrug of his broad shoulders he released her to lounge back against the pillows once again. The action drew the sheet back into place, and the lean suppleness of his hips was again concealed from her. Ruth released the breath she had been holding and gathered up the tray, praying her trembling hands would not betray her. The cutlery rattled a little as she hurried towards the door, but it didn't disgrace her. and she was almost through the aperture when he spoke to her again.
'Do you think I could borrow a razor?' he enquired. rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin. 'I'd like to make myself look more human, but as you know. I didn't bring any luggage."
'Oh. I—I'm sure my father has a razor you could borrow,' she murmured, glancing apprehensively along the hall, as if afraid Professor Jason might overhear her. 'I—I'll get Celeste to bring it to you,' she added, reaching for the handle of the door, but once again he arrested her.
'I'd rather you brought it,' he said, his voice soft, and curiously gentle. 'Not that I have anything against Celeste, you understand me? She's been of great assistance. I know.' He grinned ruefully, running significant hands down the outline of his legs. 'Believe me. I know.' He shrugged. 'I just find you better to look at.' he explained, and Ruth nodded her head vigorously as she hastily closed the door.
In the hall, she composed herself before walking its length to the kitchen. She had never known anyone who could disconcert her so easily, and his provoking words left her feeling both shaken and excited. It was not exactly what he said, she realised, but the way that he said it, and her heart still pounded from the recollection of his thumb upon her wrist. She didn't understand why so simple an action should arouse so urgent a response, but it did inspire the speculation of how it might feel to have Dominic caress the more intimate parts of her anatomy—like her shoulders perhaps, or her waist, or maybe—and she blushed at the thought—her breasts.
She thought Celeste looked at her rather searchingly-when she went into the kitchen with the tray. She guessed the other woman had noticed the heated colour in her cheeks, which she had been unable to disguise, unaware of that fact that there were other indications of her agitation. Her eyes were sparkling, but she didn't know that, and her lips were parted in eager anticipation. Celeste's wide mouth curved a little knowingly as she took in this evidence of her young charge's excitement, and she rested her hands on her broad hips as she commented:
'You been talking with Mr Howard? What he been saying to you? Why you looking like the cat that been at the cream?'
Ruth put down the tray on the table and thrust her trembling hands behind her back. 'I don't know what you mean.' she protested, trapping them in the folds of her skirt. 'I just collected the tray, like you asked me. What's wrong with that?'
Celeste moved her shoulders indolently. 'Seems like you been a little longer than it take to collect a tray.' she declared dryly. 'Come on. you can tell Celeste. She won't go blabbing to your daddy.'
There's nothing to tell.' Ruth retorted firmly. 'He —I—he wants a razor. Do you think Daddy would mind if I lent him his?'
Celeste grimaced. 'Who know
s? You going to ask him?'
Ruth shook her head. 'He's sleeping—Daddy. I mean. I suppose I could just—lend Mr Howard the razor, couldn't I? Daddy need never know.'
'And I suppose your daddy's going to think he just chewed that there hair off his face, is he?' Celeste suggested caustically, bringing a furrow to Ruth's brow.
'I never thought of that.' she confessed, tugging at a strand of night-dark silk, and Celeste sighed.
'Tell you what.' she said. 'I guess you could borrow a razor I got lying there in the cabin.' She made a resigned gesture, i don't know where it come from. I only know it there, doing nothing.'
'Oh. thank you. Celeste!' Ruth could have hugged her. Then she hesitated. 'Will—will you get it and give it to him?'
'Why can't you do that?'
'I—I've got some work to do for Daddy.' Ruth explained evasively, avoiding Celeste's eyes. 'You
don't mind, surely?'
Celeste shrugged. 'Seems to me there's more to this than meets the eye. but I'll do it. I'll give him the razor. Shave him, too, if'n he wants it.' She allowed her words to sink in. then added deliberately: 'Ain't a lot I'd refuse to do for Mr Howard, no. sir. And I've done most everything else, 'cept'n getting into bed with him.'
Her words had the desired effect, but Ruth couldn't help the bloom of colour that covered her body from head to toe. 'What—what you choose to do is your own affair. Celeste.' she declared, deliberately slowing her steps as they would have hastened her towards the door. 'I'll be in the study, if Daddy wants me. See you later."
CHAPTER FIVE
Professor Jason insisted on getting up for supper, and Ruth faced him across the dining table with some misgivings. She was beginning to realise there was more to deceiving someone than simply doing something without their cognisance. She had to beware in so many other ways, not least in confining her knowledge of their visitor to things Celeste could have told her.