Ecstasy

by Gwynne Forster

  He didn’t join her laughter, because he could think of half a dozen ailments to which such symptoms could be ascribed—none of them good news.

  * * *

  Jeannetta excused herself to freshen up before the plane landed. She had experienced some of the symptoms her doctor had mentioned, and she couldn’t help wondering whether her time might be running out. She hadn’t had her period in months and the headaches occurred with increasing frequency and severity. The thought of flying home from Singapore occurred to her, but she had never been a quitter and she had invested too much in this scheme to throw in the towel without a try. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and combed her hair, looked at herself in the mirror, and thanked God for wrinkle-free fabric.

  He stood by their seats when she returned, a deep frown and a quizzical expression on his face. Strange, she thought, since he usually camouflaged his feelings with a poker face. If he’d been as good a doctor as everyone claimed, he might have noticed something about her. Could she pretend she hadn’t known what ailed her? She couldn’t do it, and the thought nagged her as she left the plane.

  Mason checked the passengers through customs and onto the sightseeing bus. He had had their luggage sent directly to the Southern Queen, the boat that would take them on a four-day journey from Singapore to Bangkok, Thailand. He stood by the bus, mopping his forehead and was about to board when Lucy Abernathy grabbed his arm. She panted excitedly, as though she’d run a mile, and her words tumbled over one another, finally making him understand that Geoffrey Ames hadn’t arrived.

  “I don’t know where he is,” she yelled. He did his best to ease her fears, but she wouldn’t be comforted.

  “He said he’d meet me at the bus, and he’s not here,” she screamed, flexing her knees as though she were jumping.

  “I’ll find him,” he told her, and moved away from the bus but, to his chagrin, she rushed along beside him. When they reached the terminal, she stopped, and a glance at her distorted face told him to expect trouble. He followed her gaze and saw Geoffrey Ames, surrounded by half a dozen Singapore beauties and autographing everything from a magazine to the front of one girl’s blouse. And with her tube of lipstick.

  Mason threw out his arm to block the irate woman’s way, but she brushed past him, and he prayed she wouldn’t commit one of the numerous crimes for which hanging was the penalty in the Singapore legal code.

  “Don’t ever come near me again,” she told Geoffrey in a trembling voice, her hands planted firmly on her ample hips.

  “Now, Lucy...Lucy, you don’t mean that.”

  “Who doesn’t mean it?” she fumed.

  “He’s so cute,” one of the girls exclaimed, amidst a chorus of giggles.

  “What?” Lucy glared at the happy old man, who seemed oblivious to her displeasure. “Cute? I’ve got your cute, Mr. Ames.”

  Mason stared in awe as she pranced off, stepping high as though leading a marching band. He couldn’t help laughing at the unrepentant man, whose smile reached from ear to ear.

  “We could have left you, Ames.”

  “I knew Lucy wouldn’t let you,” he said, still unperturbed. And still smiling. Mason wondered if the man’s steps had a more youthful bounce than when he’d gotten off the plane.

  “I see you and Miss Jeannetta have been getting pretty close,” Geoffrey confided.

  “I was thinking the same about you and Miss Lucy,” Mason rejoined.

  “You planning wedding bells onboard the ship?” Geoffrey wanted to know.

  Mason gawked. Had the man lost his mind?

  “I just met her in March.”

  “Time’s got nothing to do with it,” a confident Geoffrey Ames replied. “When this tour’s over, you’ll go wherever she goes. Mark my word. Yes, sir. When a woman gets in your blood, she stays there. And there ain’t nothing so miserable as having part of you one place and the other part somewhere else. Yep. You’ve been had.”

  He warmed up to his lecture, slowing his pace, though Mason had no doubt that the man knew they had a tight schedule.

  “Yes, sir,” Geoffrey went on. “In my day, romance was the step to marriage. You young people don’t seem to understand your feelings, can’t make a commitment. That’s what a good marriage is—total commitment. The fires burn lower with time, and the hot coals die down. What’s left is deep, abiding love. You don’t think of yourself without her. She’s you. You’re happy when she’s happy and miserable when she’s sad. And if she leaves this world before you do, the best part of you goes with her. In my forty-six years of marriage, I never spent a night away from my Nettie, God rest her soul, and no more of the day than I had to in order to make a living for us—such as it was. And she was always there for me. I lost my job once. It wasn’t much to start with—four hours every night cleaning restrooms and floors in a bank building—but it kept us off of welfare. I got home and told her about it and said I didn’t have a cent. She smiled and said, ‘It’s a good thing I made pig’s feet and hot potato salad for your supper. You always like that so much.’ I never loved her as much as I did that minute. Miss Jeannetta is a simple person. Oh, she’s smart and all that, but she don’t have any of those airs that those sophisticated women have, otherwise she wouldn’t a dressed up to eat dinner with an old man like me. She likes you a whole lot, son. I’d pay good attention to her if I was you.”

  They climbed on the bus and Mason couldn’t help laughing to himself; Lucy had seated herself with another passenger to foil Geoffrey’s certain attempts at making amends.

  “She’s going to make you sweat,” Mason told him.

  “I can handle her,” Geoffrey replied. “You’re the one with the problem.” He took the seat behind the driver and motioned Mason to join him.

  Mason looked down the aisle. Maybeth had taken the seat beside Jeannetta, so he sat with Geoffrey.

  “How’re you going to manage? Miss Abernathy is furious with you.”

  Geoffrey gathered his pants legs up around the knee and made himself comfortable.

  “Oh, she’d stay mad if I’d brought one of those beauties on this bus, but I’m not crazy and she knows that. Take my advice and work on things with Miss Jeannetta. She’s a diamond waiting to be polished.”

  “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” he advised the older man. “I’m dealing with it.” He ignored Geoffrey’s grunt of disbelief. His fingers wrapped around the keys that were his constant companions, and he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. He’d give anything to have a Nettie of his own. A woman who would smile at him when he told her he didn’t know how or where he’d get her next meal. He turned to his seat companion.

  “How long did you know your wife before you married her?”

  Ames fingered his beard and a melancholy smile stole over his face. “Well, I asked her to marry me the first time I took her out. We went to see Casablanca. I’d already seen it, but she hadn’t. Anyhow, she said yes, but it took two weeks to make the wedding dress. I declare, I thought she’d never finish it. Every time I saw her, she needed another little piece of lace, more beads or something.” Mason smiled as images of Jeannetta sewing beads on a lace wedding dress flitted through his mind. He’d bet that, like other modern women, she’d head for a good designer. Of course, professional women rarely had time to sew.

  “You’re quite a man,” he told Geoffrey. “I’m glad I met you.” It wouldn’t hurt Ames to get a little of his own medicine, he decided and asked him, “What are you planning to do about Miss Abernathy? You going to cross this off as a vacation romance?”

  “’Course not,” the man replied, a scowl marring his usually serene face. “I’m going to marry her as soon as I get back to Augusta. That’s in Georgia, you know.” Mason shut off what would have been a sharp whistle.

  “But she’s not from Georgia.”

  Geoffrey Ames’s
smug smile wasn’t lost on Mason, and the man’s self-confidence was even more evident when he replied, “No, but she soon will be.”

  Mason clicked on the mike. “First stop, Jurong Bird Park. Anyone who isn’t back on this bus twenty minutes from now, get a taxi to the harbor; we’ll be leaving on the Southern Queen at two o’clock.” He moved so that Geoffrey could pass. With the tour members gone and the bus empty, he pulled the baseball cap he’d bought at the Istanbul airport over his eyes and slumped down in his seat, hoping for a twenty-minute nap.

  “Want some company?” He removed the cap and sat up.

  “Everyone else went to the park. Why didn’t you go?” he asked Jeannetta. “I thought you’d be happy to see so many colorful birds. First time I went to Jurong, I could hardly believe my eyes.” He slid into Geoffrey’s seat so that she could sit beside him. He gaped when her hand went to her forehead as though to steady herself, but she smiled and sat down. He might have imagined it, he told himself. Hopefully.

  “I would have, but I decided I’d rather use the opportunity to get rid of Maybeth. She’s a card. Of course, the possibility of having you all to myself wasn’t easily ignored.”

  He raised both eyebrows. “Are you flirting with me?”

  He thought her sudden interest in the floor, the top of her shoes and her lap unusual and a smile curled around his lips at the ingenuity she displayed in the art of finger-twiddling. Might as well have a little fun. He tipped up her chin and held it until she looked at him. He winked.

  “You were, weren’t you?”

  Hot shivers plowed through his chest when she bathed her bottom lip with her tongue and slanted him a sly grin.

  “Why not? You’re free, thirty-seven and solvent, I believe is the way you put it. So I can have my way with you without getting into trouble with the law. Come here.”

  He sat forward. “Whoa, there,” he cautioned. “Back on that plane, you implied that I ought to leave you alone, that nothing could come of this.”

  She slid toward him, positioned her head on the back of his seat, gazed up at him and let him see the warm welcome in her almond-shaped eyes.

  “That was before I saw you wearing this silly cap.”

  He tried to ignore the dark, lusty hue of her voice. If he could hold out for another twelve minutes, the tour members would return and they’d have company, but he couldn’t help responding to her. He’d sized her up as a woman who could and would hold her own, but he hadn’t thought her aggressive. Her jaw muscles twitched, his belly flexed and he knew what would come next. The painful stirring in his groin jolted him, and he stared down at her. Her eyelids fluttered as if weakened by a powerful light, and she licked her lips.

  “Come here, Mason.” Longing replaced the welcome in her dark eyes.

  “Baby, don’t play with me.”

  “I’ve never played with you. I may change my tune, but I can’t change what I feel.”

  Air swished out of him. She had never asked him for himself. He wrapped her in his arms, and her soft fingers at the back of his head guided his mouth to hers with a force that he wouldn’t have dared apply. Her parted lips sucked his tongue into her mouth, and her arched back pressed her breasts to his chest. God, he couldn’t stand it. Wave after wave of hot currents tore through him when she released his tongue and plastered kisses over his face, neck and ears, murmuring things that he couldn’t understand. She attempted to straddle his lap, but he used what sense she’d left him with, cradled her in his arms and rested her on his knee. She leaned forward, getting closer to him, and her thigh grazed his engorged center. He would have shifted her position, but she caressed his jaw and whispered in his ear: “Maybe I shouldn’t have done this, but all of a sudden I needed to know you. Don’t move. Please. At least, I can have this much of you.”

  If only the runaway train in his chest would stop its mad tumble. He took slower, deeper breaths. “What do you mean by that? Are you trying to tell me something?” The clamor of voices reached his ears, and he quickly shifted her to the seat beside him, stepped out of the bus and counted the tour members as they boarded. He didn’t feel lighthearted, but he couldn’t resist a laugh when Geoffrey arrived holding

  Lucy’s hand.

  * * *

  Jeannetta took a seat midway in the bus. She wanted to sit with Mason, to be close to him, but she didn’t dare. Are you trying to tell me something? Subconsciously, she had been but, because of the poor timing, she’d been grateful when their companions returned. She couldn’t figure out what had prompted her to abandon her self-control as she had done with Mason, but had never done with any other man. Oh, she loved him, but did loving him mean she’d change her personality?

  She adored birds and had looked forward to visiting Jurong Bird Park, but when she’d stood to leave the bus, everything in it seemed to swirl around her. She’d managed to steady herself and to walk as far as Mason’s seat at the front of the bus, but the sensation hit her again, and she’d sat down beside him, because she’d had no choice. She supposed the experience had made her reckless with him, because she’d thought at first that her time had about run out. His eyes had changed to that greenish-brown she’d come to recognize as his red flag, his signal to stop or be prepared to go all the way, but she hadn’t broken it off. One more bill she knew she’d have to pay. He hadn’t accused her of being a tease, but he’d warned her not to play with him. She closed her eyes to discourage Leonard Deek’s conversation. Had she been right in thinking she should leave the tour and give up? She turned her head toward the window, seeking as much privacy as she could get, wondering whether she loved Mason so much that she’d voluntarily condemn herself to half a life rather than have him know that she’d deceived him. She took a tissue from her purse and blotted away the lone tear on her cheek. If only she hadn’t fallen in love with him. If. What a useless thought. She sat up, looked at Leonard and smiled.

  “Did you enjoy the birds? I wish I’d gone, too,” she said to the quiet Latin teacher.

  “At least you were spared that hundred-degree heat. If you’ve seen one of these preserves, you’ve seen ’em all.” He took out his pad and began making notes.

  “I haven’t seen one.” He went back over his sentences, dotting the i’s with little round circles, a practice she disliked.

  “Really?” he asked, without looking up. “Well, you can always come back to see them next year.”

  She turned toward the window.

  Mason checked the tour through immigration and onto the Southern Queen for the voyage to Bangkok, Thailand. He looked at his faithful Timex. Seven o’clock Saturday morning in New York. He found a telephone station and placed a call.

  “Hello, Skip, this is Mason. I’m about to leave Singapore.”

  “Wait. Let me get up and get my map you gave me. Where’s Singapore?” Mason couldn’t help smiling. He found immense satisfaction in the boy’s eagerness to learn, to succeed, and he’d vowed that he’d befriend him as long as he showed promise. He’d awakened the boy on a morning when he didn’t have to get up early, and he hadn’t objected.

  “It’s in Asia, Skip, and I don’t have time for a geography lesson. How’s your aunt Mabel doing?”

  “What part of Asia?”

  Mason laughed. Tenacity was as much a part of Skip as his dark skin and wooly hair.

  “Southeast Asia. I said, how is Mabel?” He held his breath. Skip disliked talking about anything unpleasant. “Well?”

  “She’s in the hospital right now, but...”

  “In the...what? Who’s looking after you?”

  “I’ve been with Steve, but she’s coming home this afternoon, so I stayed overnight to clean up the place. Steve was here ’til ten last night. You having a good time?”

  “I’m working, Skip, although it’s pleasant work. I have to hang up, because I want to talk with Steve. Be s
ure and do as he tells you, and give my regards to Mabel.” He hung up. What a thing to happen with twenty-five hundred miles separating them. Even so exceptional a boy as Skip shouldn’t have such responsibility at age twelve. He’d been lucky to have his brother, Steve. He’d resisted becoming involved with Skip, but the boy had adopted him and followed him around until he became a leech on his conscience. He didn’t regret his decision to look after Skip and his struggling great-aunt, and he’d developed a deep fondness for the boy. He wrote Steve’s number on a pad and handed it to the operator.

  * * *

  “Sorry to get you up so early on Saturday, Steve, but I’m just shoving off to Thailand. What’s wrong with Mabel?” He listened, a plan forming in his mind. “That’s serious. Do you have time to look for a bachelor apartment in one of those nursing-care complexes? Ask my receptionist to help you.”

  “Mason, I know their apartment wouldn’t win a prize, but it’s theirs and, if she leaves that, they’ll have nothing.”

  “From what you told me, I know she won’t recover and, unless I do something, Skip will spend the next couple of years taking care of her. I don’t want to see his potential wasted.”

  “What’ll you do with him?”

  Mason didn’t hesitate, because he knew it was right. “He can live with me. That’s what he wants to do, anyway. Check the hospital. Get an ambulance to take Mabel home, and give her enough money to last them until I get back. Thanks for looking after Skip.”

  “He’s taken to calling me Uncle Steve. You wouldn’t expect me to neglect my nephew, would you?” Steve had said it jokingly, but the thought stayed with Mason.

  He looked over the list of boarded passengers once more to make certain none of his tour members had stayed behind. Maybeth had been the first onboard, followed by Deek. The woman toyed with the little man, but he tailed her wherever she went. He’d said he was on sabbatical, a year’s leave for research, but what kind of research would a professor of Latin do on this tour? He wondered how many of them had lied about their reasons for taking the trip. He walked up the gangplank and looked back at the soaring buildings in Asia’s most modern city. He’d left something of himself in that city, on that bus, something he knew he’d never regain. His ability to walk away from her had died there.