Wait. Wait. She breathed in and out. Once. Twice. As much as she wanted to obey the alarm, she didn’t dare move until Nathan suggested it. Her chances of making it ashore depended on her obedience to his will, no matter what.
Nathan finally set his glass down, having finished the last of his tea. “You two clear the trays while I retrieve the passports from the cabin. I will rejoin you at the lifeboat station.”
Genie didn’t hesitate in snatching up both his tray and her own. Lavinia joined her on the way to the refuse station, where they handed their trays to the kitchen help. The young man smiled reassuringly at her, and she reminded herself that this was only a drill. There was no real danger.
Together, she and Lavinia hurried toward the stairwell, joining the tide of passengers. Out on the lower deck, an officer was shouting instructions through a bullhorn: Single-file lines! No suitcases! Children with parents! No talking! Working their way through the throngs of people already lined up, Genie and Lavinia arrived at their assigned meeting point, where a sailor checked their names off on his clipboard.
Taking her place in line, Genie looked up at the lifeboat being winched down from above. “Do you think we’ll actually have to get in the boats?”
“I certainly hope so. Think of the adventure,” Lavinia said almost longingly as she edged closer to the railing. As she leaned and peered over, the wind whipped her long skirts around her legs, as if trying to trip her.
“Terror, more like. And I’m warning you—if you fall in, you’re on your own,” Genie said, her pulse spiking as Lavinia leaned even farther out. “I don’t know how to swim.”
Lavinia straightened, her eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise as she glanced back. “You don’t?”
“No. There were only rivers where I grew up, and not ones you wanted to swim in.”
“We lived next to a lake and swam all the time. My brothers taught me.”
“Lucky you.”
“You know, there’s a swimming pool on the lido deck,” a man said from behind her.
Genie turned around, only to be greeted by a conspiratorial wink. She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, as the man was far more attractive than she had expected, with broad shoulders, sun-streaked brown hair, and lively hazel eyes. His deep tan spoke of someone who spent a lot of time outside. She guessed he might be in his thirties.
“Likely you could find someone to teach you,” he continued with surprising seriousness. “It’s not as if there’s a whole lot else to do on board.”
“And who are you?” Lavinia asked coolly as she linked her arm through Genie’s.
“Oh, sorry. Dick Pelton.” He grinned and held out his hand to Lavinia. “Photographer for the US government and documentary film specialist. Before the war, I also worked in Hollywood—not that I’m bragging.”
“And we’re missionaries,” Lavinia said, ignoring his hand. “So there’s no need to brag. We’re not interested.”
“Lavinia!” Genie exclaimed, shocked by her friend’s rudeness. She turned to Mr. Pelton. “I’m Eugenia Baker.”
“Nice to meet you.” His fingers were pleasantly warm as they shook hands.
“And this is my friend Mrs. Schmidt.” Genie gestured toward Lavinia, who gave a visible shudder at the name, but how else was she supposed to introduce the widow? “She was recently in Burma until her husband was killed by the Japanese.”
“My condolences, Mrs. Schmidt,” Mr. Pelton said. “I was on your flight from Burma. That had to be very difficult.”
“Please call me Lavinia. Hearing my married name is too painful at the moment.”
“Of course.”
Genie stared at Mr. Pelton. “Did you say you were on the flight from Lashio?”
“I was. And on the train from Calcutta.”
She narrowed her gaze. “How is it I never saw you?”
“I don’t know, but I remember seeing you—not many people in India have red hair.” He turned to Lavinia and frowned slightly. “And speaking of red hair, what happened to the fellow who boarded the plane with you? I’m assuming now that he wasn’t your husband.”
“He wasn’t,” Lavinia agreed.
Nathan joined them and said, “Here, put this on.” He handed Genie a life jacket.
Not needing to be told twice, she slipped it over her head and began fastening the straps while Nathan helped Lavinia put hers on.
“Let me,” Mr. Pelton said, taking one of the straps from her hand and untwisting it. “It’s easier to fix this now, before it gets wet.”
“Wet?” A jolt of panic, like an electric shock, numbed her fingers. “We’re not actually going into the water, are we?”
“One tries not to, but waves do splash up once in a while.” One corner of his mouth lifted as he expertly threaded the buckle. Without asking, he tightened down her other straps, and as each one grew snugger, she became more and more aware of how close his fingers were to her breasts.
“You put life jackets on other people often?” she asked in an effort to distract herself.
“Not often. However, as a boy growing up on the coast of California, I think I spent more time on the water than off. At least until I discovered girls.” He winked.
Her cheeks heated, and she hurriedly looked around for Nathan, hoping he hadn’t seen.
He hadn’t. He was standing close to Lavinia, gently brushing strands of windblown hair from her face, his expression open and unguarded. Boyish.
Something panged in her chest, but it wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly. Just a pained awareness that she had never inspired such a look from him.
“Looks like we might not get wet after all.” Mr. Pelton nodded down the deck, and she followed his gaze. The captain, identifiable by the gold bars flashing on his shoulder boards, was speaking with the officer holding the stopwatch. He gestured to the boat swinging briskly in the wind, and the officer nodded. A piped whistle split the air, and then a second later the all-clear sounded.
“Oh, thank heaven,” she breathed as the boat was slowly winched back up. The sailor with the bullhorn began shouting dispersion instructions. Passengers were to hand their life jackets to crew members or stack them along the wall.
“Dickie! There you are.” A slender, very blonde woman with a deep-blue scarf holding back her hair appeared out of the crowd. Her tortoiseshell sunglasses hid her eyes but not the striking angles of her face. Genie was positive she had seen the woman before but couldn’t remember when or where.
“How ever did you end up over here?” the woman scolded as she breezed past Genie without a second glance, her dramatically red lips already in a pout. “All the interesting people are on the other side. Tell the captain there’s been a mistake so you can line up with us next time.”
“Why should I? Look at all these people I haven’t met yet.” He gestured at the departing passengers.
“Oh, you tease.” She linked her arm with his. “Come, join me at the bar. All this running around has made me thirsty. Bess and Larry will be there, too, I’m sure.”
“In a moment.” He smiled at Genie. “It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Miss Baker. And Lavinia. Please give her my best.”
“Of course, but . . .” She stopped, realizing that Lavinia and Nathan were no longer nearby. In fact, they were nowhere to be seen. She turned back to Mr. Pelton, but he was already drifting off, arm in arm with his lady friend. On a ship overloaded with people, she was alone.
“Excuse me, miss.” A young sailor, one who looked barely old enough to shave, gave her a brief tired smile. His arms were full of cast-off life jackets. “Do you need help?”
She hesitated, still feeling a little sorry for herself. Then, realizing how pathetic that was, she pulled herself together. Alone didn’t mean helpless. Her fingers began unfastening the buckles. “No, thank you. I can do it.”
Chapter 19
Excitement hummed in Genie’s veins as she leaned over the railing and studied the pier far below her. Ever since the ship had stea
med into Cape Town late last night, she’d been on razor’s edge, one moment sure her good behavior of the past few days would sway Nathan’s thinking, the next terrified that it hadn’t been enough. Nothing had been said one way or the other over breakfast, so maybe, just maybe . . .
She inhaled, filling her lungs with the air of Africa. Africa! Behind the heavy odors of oil and fish from the dock, past the smells of salt and engine exhaust, she fancied she could detect the rich scents of jungle and savannah, the spicy musk of unfamiliar flora and fauna.
Below her, evidence of the war was everywhere. Soldiers with rifles slung over their shoulders strolled along the dock while white-capped sailors tossed crates from flatbed trucks to the ground. The small open-aired cars growling up and down the harbor front were all painted in drab camouflage paint. Not far back from that, long rows of canvas tents formed an entire town of their own.
Then she lifted her gaze to the large flat-topped mountain soaring up, green and mysterious, from the center of town, and she felt her breath catch. She bounced on the balls of her feet, too agitated to stand still. The need to feel solid ground under her and to be surrounded by something other than water was fast becoming a compulsion.
Impatient, she glanced over her shoulder for Nathan and Lavinia. A deep, thrilling chorus of powerful engines pulled her attention to the horizon. A quartet of fighter planes tore through the sky, the bones in her chest vibrating as they zoomed over the ship and then out over the ocean, holding a tight formation as they banked to the left, back toward the city. Her heart galloped unsteadily as the snarl of their engines, which had just seconds ago filled all the empty places on deck, faded until the shouts and thumps of crates being unloaded once more could be heard.
“Genie!” Lavinia’s voice, so close, made Genie jump. “We’re here.”
Spinning around, she started to smile, her eagerness back. Then she caught the strained smile on Lavinia’s narrow face. Genie’s heart stuttered, the teasing words she had been about to utter dying on her lips.
“I’m sorry we took so long.” Her friend’s gaze drifted past Genie’s shoulder. “Nathan wanted to verify there would be a meal service for passengers remaining aboard. Which there is, so that’s good.”
Disbelief rapidly coalesced into fury. She whirled on Nathan, who had, of course, let Lavinia break the bad news to her. The coward.
“I’m not going ashore?” she asked slowly, to be sure there was no mistake.
Nathan made an exasperated sound. “Really, Eugenia. We’ve already discussed this.”
“Yes, but I thought . . .”
“Thought what? That your continued selfishness would be somehow overlooked because of your recent spate of good behavior? Hardly.” His features hardened as he tucked Lavinia’s arm into his own. “Your father would be mortified if he could hear you now, putting your happiness ahead of others. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Ashamed, why?” she asked incredulously. “Because I want to experience Africa for myself? I should think that’s exactly the kind of thing my father would want for me. He never, ever—not even once—indicated that the furthering of one’s knowledge was anything but noble and good. So who are you, my appointed escort, to deny me this experience? If anything, you should be ashamed of yourself. My father trusted you to do right by me, not pursue your own selfish desires!”
Lavinia shook her head imperceptibly, her eyes hard with warning as Nathan first paled and then flushed. Genie cringed inwardly. She had really done it this time.
“If you had ever truly cared about your father’s desires”—Nathan’s tone was sharp enough to cut steel—“you, instead of Mrs. Schmidt, would be my fiancée. I can only thank the Lord that your imprudence saved me from such a fate.”
Her breath caught at the injustice of his remarks. She was still searching for the right retort as Nathan tugged Lavinia toward the gangway, taking her freedom with him. There had to be something she could say. Lavinia, for her part, kept glancing over her shoulder, her expression intent, but Genie couldn’t respond. Her feet were rooted to the deck.
Her friend leaned in and said something to Nathan. Then she was running back to Genie. She threw her arms around Genie’s shoulders and hugged her tight. Genie stiffened at the unexpected show of affection.
“I tried to change his mind, but don’t despair,” Lavinia whispered in a rush before releasing her. “I put it in Nathan’s pillowcase. Top bunk, second row from the left. Don’t get caught.”
And then her friend was gone, rushing back to Nathan’s side. Genie blinked in confusion. Don’t get caught. Don’t get caught doing what—?
Like a summer sunrise, understanding blossomed. The urge to run after her friend and hug her rolled in as fast as her depression was swept away. If she had Lavinia’s message right, she might yet walk on African soil.
With renewed hope, she hurried inside to Nathan’s stateroom. Her gaze swept the passageway as she nervously lifted her hand to knock on the door. While it was one thing to be caught searching one’s own cabin, it was quite another to be found going through someone else’s, particularly one assigned to the opposite sex.
All was quiet, which didn’t surprise her. Most of the ship was probably already ashore. Still, her knees shook as she rapped on the metal door. When no one answered, she knocked a little louder. She willed her breathing to slow while she waited to see if anyone would respond. You have every right to be here. Calm down. Rationally, she knew no one would fault her for retrieving her passport, if that was indeed what Lavinia had been talking about. The passport was hers, after all.
Silence crouched beyond the door, perhaps benign, perhaps not. Praying that it would be the former and that her legs wouldn’t give out, she turned the handle. The door was unlocked. Silent as a shadow, she slipped into the cabin and scanned for sleeping occupants. Like the cabin she shared with Lavinia, everything of luxury and comfort had been stripped from the room except a small sink and a mirror. Four rows of steel-framed bunk beds, each with three cots, had been squeezed into the small space, leaving barely two feet between rows. As a result, all the baggage was stowed either on or beneath the beds, which would make her task easier.
Reassured that she was alone, she headed for the second row of bunks.
“Breaking and entering a new skill they teach missionaries these days?” a man said from the doorway.
She spun around, her heart jumping nearly out of her chest. “Mr. Pelton, hello.”
“Hello, yourself.” He propped his shoulder against the doorjamb and lifted an eyebrow. “Is there something I can help you find? Your escort, perhaps?”
“Oh, Nathan is already ashore.” She furtively wiped her damp palms on her skirt and tried to guess his mood. Dressed in a dark-green cable-knit vest and pressed brown tweed pants, his gold-streaked hair neatly slicked back and his hat dangling from long, slender fingers, he was the very picture of casual elegance. And privilege. And likely not the kind of man to view petty theft kindly.
“I know this looks bad, but I promise, I’m not doing anything sinister. I’m looking for my passport so I can go ashore. Because I forgot to tell Nathan to buy me postage stamps to mail these.” She pulled the letters she had written over the last few weeks from her skirt pocket, thankful she had them with her. “They’re for my father and aunt.”
“I see.” He studied her, his hazel eyes almost green in the filtered light. “You know, I’m headed into town this morning. I could post them for you.”
“No! I mean, thank you, but I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, I’m looking forward to the adventure.”
“Of course.” He continued studying her, making no move to leave the doorway. “Is there any particular reason your passport is here and not in your cabin?”
A lie would be the fastest way to gain his support, but she couldn’t make herself utter the words. Exhaling in defeat, she slumped against the bunk post. “Nathan didn’t want me going ashore today. He wanted to spend all his time wit
h Lavinia—the widow you met. They’re engaged. So he hid my passport.”
“Best wishes to them both, but I’m not clear why that required your being left behind. Is there another reason he doesn’t want you leaving the ship, like you’re traveling under a false name? A criminal fleeing justice?”
“No!” she said, horrified he could think such a thing of her.
His expression eased into a smile. “Relax. I was only teasing. Go ahead and search for your passport. Then I’ll help you find that post office.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose . . .”
“No imposition at all. My companions were planning to spend the day shopping, which I’d just as soon avoid, so this works out perfectly. I can be your knight in shining armor and have a good reason to miss out on a day of utter boredom.” He winked at her.
A sudden nervousness fluttered in her stomach, and she turned back to the bunks. Mr. Pelton was far too sophisticated to be flirting with her, so she didn’t know how to take his comments. She counted off the bunks again, and the passport was right where Lavinia said it would be. Stress rolled off her shoulders like rain off oilcloth. Silently thanking the quick-witted widow for somehow arranging to have the passport left behind, she tucked it into her pocket next to the letters. Then she fluffed the pillow and returned it to its original place. Nathan was bound to find out, but the longer she could put off that unhappy occurrence, the better.
“Got it?”
“Yes.” She turned to him and smiled, unable to hide her relief.
“You know,” Mr. Pelton said, stroking his jaw thoughtfully, “limiting yourself to a quick trip to the post office seems hardly worth all this cloak-and-dagger effort. How about I show you around Cape Town properly? I know some wonderful little restaurants, having been here before. We could have lunch.”
“Surely you have better things to do. Won’t your friends miss you?”
“Not really. Their tastes run toward fashion and glamour, two things that don’t interest me much. Likely a byproduct of my having spent too much time in Hollywood.” One corner of his mouth quirked up beguilingly. “Come on. It’ll be fun. You know you’re itching to see the world.”
A Girl Divided Page 19