Ecstasy

by Gwynne Forster

  Her breathing accelerated and, with a deep sigh, she gave in to him and did as he’d asked. Her arms tightened around his neck, her breasts warmed his chest, and she seemed to let her body have its way. He tried to ignore the sweat that beaded on his forehead, the thundering of his heart, and the sensuous movement of her hips as she followed his steps. He swung her out in a two-step, intent upon getting some space between them, but the sultry expression in her eyes and the movement of her belly as she glided back to him accelerated his pulse, and awareness slammed into him. He thought he’d explode.

  She slid her fingers around his neck and whispered, “You’re warm and...and everything. Everything.” He stopped dancing. Did she want him to make love with her? Hang his rules. Did she? She had closed her eyes and her lips brushed his jaw. He wanted to pick her up, run with her to his room, and lose himself in her.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded, although her luminous smile seemed shaky. He splayed his fingers across the small of her back and led her back to their table. She grasped his hand, smiled, then slumped against him in a dead faint.

  Chapter 6

  Mason paced the narrow corridor outside the ship’s infirmary. A nurse smiled at him, pausing briefly for what he didn’t doubt was more feminine than medical concern. On a different occasion, she might have inspired a second glance, but his thoughts were on the woman in that room. He hadn’t been allowed inside, because his answer, when the doctor had asked his relationship to Jeannetta, had been “friend.” The doctor had shrugged and said, “Wait out there.” He’d wanted to say, but I’m a doctor, and I have as much right as you to be in there. He’d said nothing and had watched the door close in his face. He’d given that up voluntarily almost three years ago, and he hadn’t regretted it. Oh, there had been little twinges once in a while, when he read of a new medicine, ground-breaking test, or special equipment. He’d think how wonderful, how exciting or safer his work would be because of it, only to remember that he headed Fenwick Travel Agency and had no connection with medicine. Then he’d take consolation in getting a full night’s undisturbed sleep on a regular basis, not having to deal with anxiety and stress about his patients every waking minute, and in not being the target of every long-lashed socialite whom he encountered. At one point he had fantasized about buying all present and future rights to the manufacture of false eyelashes and sending them to the moon with the next team of astronauts headed that way.

  * * *

  The nurse emerged, still smiling. “Can you tell me what the situation is with Miss Rollins?” he asked her.

  “Nothing serious. The doctor will be out in a few minutes.” At that, Mason stuck his hands in his pants pockets, propped himself against the wall, and tried to relax. If he’d been away from medicine thirty years instead of two years and nine months, he wouldn’t believe that—unless Jeannetta was a closet drinker, and he didn’t believe that either. He fingered the old keys and, in his frustration, knew an unfamiliar urge to slam them against the wall. So many years of longing. An hour ago, what he’d wanted for so long had seemed within his reach.

  “Well, I see we’re still here.”

  Mason bristled at the doctor’s patronizing manner. “She’ll be fine,” the doctor said. “This rough sea doesn’t agree with a lot of people, and she’s just seasick. I’ve given her some Dramamine. That ought to take care of it.”

  Mason stared at the man, wondering what Jeannetta could have said or done to mislead him.

  “Thanks, Doctor.” He had to work hard at containing himself, because he wouldn’t gain a thing by questioning the man.

  “You’re still here? I thought you’d gone.”

  He offered the best smile he could muster.

  “You gotta be kidding,” he said. “I aim to see you safely in...well, I don’t suppose I dare to tuck you in, although that’s what I had in mind an hour ago, but I want to walk you to your room.” He took her cool fingers in his hand and clutched them to his chest. “I told you that I’m here for you, and I want you to believe it.” He refused to comment on her skeptical look. He had to decide whether to send her back to New York and, if so, what kind of advice he ought to give her.

  * * *

  Jeannetta awakened early after sleeping fitfully. She couldn’t help regretting that the last night onboard ship hadn’t been what it could have, and certainly would have, if she’d been more fortunate. She pushed the thought of the consequences out of her mind, though she conceded that Providence had no doubt rescued her from herself. More than once during the night, she had wondered whether it was Mason or her ailment that had made her knees buckle and caused her to faint. She swung her feet to the floor, showered and dressed hurriedly. She knew where to find him; he wouldn’t miss the last opportunity to see that spectacular sunrise.

  As she’d expected, he was leaning against the rail watching the awesome sight of the sun climbing out of the sea, its halo of colors straddling the sky.

  “I knew I’d find you here.” She joined him at the rail to watch the sight.

  “And I hoped you’d come. This is so extraordinary. I wanted to share it with you.” He took her hand in his, and she shifted her gaze from the spectacle before them to glance at the strong man at her side. He stared deeply into her eyes and gently squeezed her fingers, and she gloried in the shared moment. Still holding her hand, he let his gaze drift back to the brilliant hues surrounding the rising sun.

  She continued to look at him. “Not even the sunrise can compare to you,” she whispered beneath her breath.

  “Let’s walk,” he urged, when the sun had fully emerged.

  She didn’t miss the envious glances that women sent her way, nor the covetous manner in which they eyed Mason. And she couldn’t help thinking that her time with him would soon be over and that, if she didn’t watch out, she’d blow this one opportunity to gain his help. She noticed the tall, beautiful, and expensively dressed blonde long before the woman reached them. To her surprise, the woman stopped before them and her heavily lashed eyes widened in astonishment.

  “Why, Dr. Fenwick,” she gushed. “I’m so delighted to see you. I had no idea you were onboard.” Before Mason could respond, she turned to her companion. “Brad, darling, this is the Dr. Mason Fenwick that I’ve told you so much about. I owe my life to this brilliant man. But for him, I’d be blind, maybe even dead. He’s a marvelous surgeon. Believe me, I always want to know where this man is. You’re still on East Seventy-second Street?”

  Jeannetta stared at him when he smiled diffidently, and she couldn’t help gritting her teeth.

  “No. That’s all behind me now. I’m happy to see that you’re well, with no aftereffects.”

  Bile formed on Jeannetta’s tongue, and she snatched her hand from his as fury roared through her.

  “Jeannetta!”

  She glared at him, her eyes brimming with tears. All behind him. Never mind who needed him; he could stand there and calmly imply that it didn’t matter. She bolted for the stairs and ran to her stateroom.

  * * *

  If he didn’t catch her before she got in that room and locked that door, he wouldn’t have a chance. He didn’t expect her to understand; his own brother didn’t comprehend or accept his decision to leave his profession behind, though Steve had walked the floor with him while he’d agonized over it. She spun around and raced up the steep, winding stairs and down the heavily carpeted corridor. His hand shot out above her head as she pulled the key from the door and pushed at it. She leaned into the door, but he didn’t allow it to budge.

  “May I come in? I have to talk with you.”

  “There’s nothing for you to say at this point. It’s all behind you, you said. The devil with the people who need you. You could stand there and calmly consign human beings to a life of hell and not give a fig. Talent, educatio
n, and opportunity, and all of it wasted.” She wasn’t without guilt, but she didn’t let her mind dwell on that; black terror had swept through her when she’d heard from his own lips that he’d finished with medicine. If he thought she trembled from anger, she didn’t care, but she’d never been so scared in her life. He pushed the door open, walked in with her and closed it.

  * * *

  “You’ve condemned me, and you’d hang me without a hearing. All that’s gone between us means nothing to you? Do you know what it’s like to play God day after day and know you’re doing it, to risk lives for your own glory, to do routinely what other surgeons regard as perilous? Do you? And then one day your arrogance almost kills a woman. You make a mistake that puts her in a coma, and if you had moved that knife one iota of a centimeter further, she’d be dead. You don’t know what terror is until you have a narrow escape like that. When that doctor told Steve and me that he couldn’t save our parents after their accident, I vowed to be a surgeon and to be the best. I gave up my childhood, went without friends, and sacrificed my dreams for a family of my own, because I wanted to be a doctor more than anything. And I walked away from nothing.” She’d turned her back, and as he walked around to look at her, he recalled something that had hung on the edge of his mind.

  “You didn’t seem surprised to learn that I’m a doctor. Have you known all along?” He wondered whether her lips trembled from anger or from a pain around her heart that equaled what he felt. He had to lean forward to hear her whispered words.

  “How could you stand there while that doctor misdiagnosed my ailment? I heard what he told you.”

  His face must have reflected the icy chill that plowed through him when he recoiled from her words, because her eyes widened. He stepped back from her.

  “So you know what’s wrong, and you’ve known from the start. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” His voice had dropped several decibels, and he knew his temper would rise. “You went to all this trouble to get me back into the harness, back into that operating room. What about your torrid responses to me every time I put my hands on you? And your kisses that promised me the heavens? What else had you planned to offer as part of your little scheme?” He ignored her loud gasp. “Well, I got a taste for you, Jeannetta, and I want you, but your price is too high.”

  “Would you please leave? Now. I... You’ve said enough.”

  Enough? He’d said too much, but the last time he’d hurt like this, he’d been seven years old. He gazed down at her and at his dream of a woman to cherish, one who’d give him the family he’d wanted for so long. His anger dissipated, and his hand went toward his right pants pocket, but he forced himself not to reach for those keys. Home. He could forget about that. He opened the door, walked out, and didn’t look back.

  * * *

  She wanted to hate him, but how could she when she loved him so? She could hardly blame him for reacting as he had. He was right that she’d schemed to get him to help her, but her reaction to him hadn’t been part of it. She tried to see it all from his vantage point. She hadn’t been in his shoes in that operating room, and maybe she would have reacted to his trauma just as he did. But she couldn’t help resenting him and her circumstances. He had with three words sentenced her to a life without everything that she loved most, including herself. She closed her eyes and started to the vanity for a facial tissue. When she stumbled over the edge of the bed, she straightened up and walked on. But neither the chair nor the magazine rack were where they’d been when she closed her eyes, and she bumped into them also. She picked herself up, opened her eyes and looked around. Clenching her teeth, she grabbed the magazine rack, tossed it against the door with all her strength and plopped herself into the chair.

  Jeannetta wished for her old guitar; from childhood, she had found peace of mind by strumming or picking her favorite tunes. She hummed softly for a few minutes until she could restore her serenity. “I’m the one who’s wrong,” she admitted to herself. “I burst into his life and expected him to change it for me. I should have told him at the outset, just as Laura said.” She sucked her teeth and leaned back in the deep cushions. “But I dreaded hearing him say no.” She sighed and started to the bathroom to wash her face. “And I didn’t count on our being attracted to each other, nor on my falling in love with him.” She looked skyward. “What will I do?”

  * * *

  The Southern Queen docked an hour before sunset. Mason stood at the edge of the gangplank checking off the passengers, but Jeannetta avoided looking at him when she passed. The few branches in view stood still. Within seconds, it seemed, her cotton T-shirt clung to her body, and she thought the heavy, wet air would burst her lungs. She wiped away the moisture that dripped down her face and beaded on her lashes, and would have run to the waiting bus if she’d had enough energy. She caught a strong whiff of the shellfish that fishermen heaped into huge vats, and needed a noseguard when she passed the pile of unfamiliar, decaying tropical fruits that a laborer appeared to haul away. Lucy wouldn’t like it, but she sat beside Geoffrey on the bus anyway in order to avoid Mason.

  “You two spatting again? I noticed he spent his whole lunchtime watching the dining-room door. And what were you doing? In your room trying to punish him?”

  She had to laugh at the man’s blunt words.

  “Oh, Geoffrey. You know true love never runs smooth,” she said, attempting to make a joke of it.

  “Garbage. Who told you that?” She ran her hands over her hair and verified what she figured the sweltering humidity had done to it.

  “It’s over between us, Geoffrey.”

  The old man rolled his eyes and pursed his lips in disdain.

  “There’s just about as much chance of that as there is of me walking from Bangkok back to Augusta. Fenwick will be on your tombstone sure as Ames will be on Lucy’s.”

  She looked at the passing scene, but didn’t see it, as she pulled at her thumb, pensive. After a few minutes of silence and self-searching, she turned to him.

  “Geoffrey, I didn’t level with Mason about something important, and I don’t think he’ll forgive me.” Geoffrey patted the back of her hand but, from his expression, he could have been miles away. She wondered if his long silence meant that he agreed with her.

  “I don’t suppose he’s leveled with you either, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting back here with me, snubbing him. The two of you have wasted near ’bout a whole day of your lives being foolish. If I upset Lucy, I tell her I’m sorry, that I’ll try not to do it anymore and ask her forgiveness. Why can’t you do that?”

  * * *

  Along with the others, Jeannetta checked into the luxurious Oriental Hotel, said by some to be the world’s finest, recorded the day’s events, had her dinner in her room, and repacked her bags. Then she called Kenyan Airlines and booked a flight to Nairobi, Kenya, for the next afternoon. She chose East Africa because the tour would visit West African countries, and she wanted to avoid him.

  “You wouldn’t be checking out, would you?” Geoffrey asked when he met her as she walked out of the Oriental early the next morning.

  “Yes, I’m leaving the tour.” She reached into her handbag and gave him her card.

  “I take it Mason doesn’t know you’re skipping out, does he?” She thought she saw sadness reflected in his eyes. “I guess he doesn’t,” Geoffrey continued, answering his own question. “You can’t love him much, Jeannetta, if you’re treating him like this. Even a condemned man gets to speak his piece before they hang him. No use saying I hope you won’t regret this, ’cause you will sure as night follows day.”

  “That’s the problem, Geoffrey—I love him so much that I can’t risk destroying him.” She rubbed her cheek where he’d kissed it before he walked off. She looked at the letter in her hand a long time before she dropped it in the hotel’s mailbox. Within an hour, she had a visitor’s visa and a ticket t
o Kenya.

  She’d never been in an airport designed for passenger comfort, and this one was no exception. So, after lying awkwardly across two chairs for several hours, she sat up. “I’d better finish this doll,” she reminded herself, and took her crocheting from her carry-on bag. She couldn’t work up an enthusiasm for it, so she put it away and made notes for her novel. Just before five o’clock that afternoon, she boarded a plane that, minutes later, took off for Nairobi.

  * * *

  Well past midnight, Mason sat at the hotel’s bar, out-of-doors along the Klong, the major waterway that teemed with commerce and houseboats day and night. He could have done without the strange, sour odor of the thick, brown waterway, but he didn’t want to go to his room, though he’d had to discourage dozens of the elegantly dressed Thai girls who worked the hotels. He didn’t doubt that he could cure Jeannetta because, even without assurance that she didn’t have her periods, he knew she had a brain lesion and suspected the implications. But he didn’t want to believe that she had deliberately set out to seduce him, making him fall for her, and ensure her chances of getting him back into the operating room. He’d spent almost six weeks with her, and he’d seen nothing about her that was less than admirable, so how could she... He let the thought die, pulled the damp T-shirt away from his skin, slapped at a mosquito that dive-bombed toward him and decided to call it a night. He thought of his brother, Steve, and the terrible sacrifices he’d made so that Mason could be a doctor. And he thought of Jeannetta and what her life would be like a couple of months or less from then. Tomorrow, he’d get together with her and try to salvage their relationship. He’d do what he had to do; he always had.

  * * *