earth was damp and moisture still clung to the bushes and trees.
Insects buzzed in the greenery and some nocturnal creature chirped
eerily in the dark.
Only a few kerosene lamps burned in the village. Most people had
gone to bed hours ago. It was too dark to see his face, but she was
aware of his bulk and his nearness as they stood at the bottom of the
steps to her door.
'Thanks very much for dinner,' she said turning to go up the steps.
'Good night.'
'Good night, Linden.' He took off with long strides, down the path
back to his house.
Linden opened the door and went in, lit a lamp and took it into the
bedroom. Slowly she took off her clothes, watching on the wall the
contorted shadows her movements made. Why had she reacted so
strangely? What was wrong with Justin kissing her?
Why such a strong reaction? She felt the tenseness in her body and
wondered what was happening to her.
She walked into the bathroom, naked, and scooped water from a
bucket and splashed it over her, gasping with the cold shock of it on
her warm skin. She took a deep breath, poured more water over her
and it felt good and cool, no longer cold.
There was a long narrow mirror in her room, attached to the door.
She looked at her bare body, finding herself too thin and too pale.
The bruise on her thigh had faded. She thought of Waite, holding her.
She thought of his gentle, sensitive fingers and her stomach cramped
in pain and tears stung her eyes. She lay in bed, curled up into a ball,
tight with aching longing. She wanted somebody with her, someone
to touch her and caress her and make her feel wanted and loved.
Somebody, anybody to fill this horrible void of loneliness.
But Justin had touched her and she'd withdrawn. He had wanted to
kiss her and she had backed away. She didn't want just anybody. She
wanted Waite. No! Not Waite! Not ever again Waite. He had hit her,
hurt her, bruised her mouth and walked out on her. She could not let
him touch her again, not ever again.
She thought of Justin kissing her, his hands moving over her body,
making love to her. She jerked upright in bed, flinging her hair out of
her face. No! No! She stumbled out of bed, tied the sarong around her
and slowly found her way to the verandah, holding on the walls so as
not to fall in the dark. She sat in the dark staring out over the sea until
the mosquitoes found her and began to attack her ankles. She found
her thongs by the door and carefully went down the stairs. It was not
far to the beach and her eyes were used to the dark by now.
She took off her thongs when she reached the beach and slogged
through the coarse sand to the water's edge and waded in ankle deep
to get some relief from her itchy bites. The sea was quiet, with calm
subdued little waves that broke close to the beach. Definitely not a
surfer's paradise, this, she thought. Taking deep breaths of the tangy
sea air, she felt herself calm down.
'I'll get over this,' she said out loud to herself. 'I'm not the only one
with a broken heart in this world.'
As she made her way back to the house, she noticed a light still
burning in Justin's house. Was he reading in bed? Or working? Then
she remembered the book he had given her and she lit the lamp again
and, sitting up in bed, began to read.
When she awoke it was seven and somewhere close by her window a
bird chirped joyously and insistently. The kerosene lamp had burned
itself out and the book had slid off the bed on to the floor. Picking it
up she found where she had stopped reading and realised she'd
finished more than half. She yawned, still exhausted, and cursed the
loud little bird outside her window.
There were soft sounds from the kitchen and she realized that
Nazirah had already arrived and was cleaning. Linden dragged
herself out of the bed and wrapped the sarong around her. Opening
the door slightly, she called out to Nazirah, who came at a run.
'Would you make me some coffee, please, Nazirah? And a slice of
bread and honey?'
'Are you ill?' The girl looked worried. Linden was always up when
she arrived and to find her in bed was cause for concern.
Linden shook her head. 'I couldn't sleep last night. I'm still tired.'
She ate the bread and drank the coffee sitting up in bed. Then, having
decided against getting up, she half-closed the shutters against the
bright morning light and curled up under the sheet again. An hour
later she woke up again, feeling better.
After more coffee, she decided to go for a hike in the hills, go up to
the waterfalls and finish Justin's book. Nazirah packed a small
backpack with a thermos of cold water, some cold chicken and sliced
pineapple. Linden stuffed in the book, a sketch pad, a towel and her
sarong. Dressed in shorts, a shirt, and plimsolls, she set off.
She had to go through the village, past the shops and the pasar, and
the curious looks she received were beginning to annoy her. It was
her own fault. She shouldn't have worn shorts, or at least should have
covered them up with a sarong. Oh, well. The thing was tucked away
in her backpack and she'd just have to keep on going. She passed a
butcher on wheels—a motorcycle with a screened box built on the
back. Inside the contraption chunks of meat hung from small hooks
waiting for customers. Mak Long Teh stood at the end of the street
with her yellow gerai and Linden called out a greeting to her.
Outside the village she passed the smoke house where wood was
burned into charcoal—enough to supply the village.
For a while she walked along the narrow unpaved road, meeting only
an occasional cyclist or woman carrying a load on her back. The
scenery was breathtaking, with rice paddies terraced on the slopes of
the hills and clumps of coconut trees and banana plants here and
there. Women wearing conical hats were working in the' fields,
bending over as they weeded the rice. Finally she reached the narrow
path that led into the hills up to the waterfalls.
There was no hurry and she went slowly, climbing steadily up the
narrow jungle path along the stream that started up higher in the hills.
The path was overgrown because not many people followed the
stream up that far. Down below, where it reached the village, the
women came to do their washing and the children played and bathed
in it.
There were small waterfalls up above and a rocky pool that formed a
natural bathing place. The water was cool and clean and babbled and
rushed among the boulders. She remembered the blissful feeling of
swimming there naked, alone in this green, serene paradise with only
the butterflies and the birds and an occasional monkey for company.
It was to this place that she had taken Justin so many years ago,
where she had flirted with him so unashamedly. Now, as she climbed
the path in the dappled sunshine, she laughed at the memory of it, at
the girl she had been then—so young and romantic and so eager for
love.
Halfway up, she stopped to have a drink of water. Sitting on a large,
smooth rock in the shade of a thick clump of bamboo ten feet tall, she
took in the scenery and sighed with the beauty of it. Vines with white
and purple blooms wound their ways around tree trunks. Bushes with
bright pink and orange and yellow flowers of the most delicate
shapes grew wild along the path. A large, brown and white butterfly
fluttered past. In a tree nearby a bird made a high, warbling sound.
Again, unbidden, the thought was in her mind. Waite would enjoy
this.
Don't think about Waite.
She screwed the cup back on to the thermos and put it in the pack.
How did you not think of someone who'd been the centre of your life
for two years? Someone you'd seen and talked to and been with
almost every day?
Some of the joy had gone out of her hike. She climbed on, feeling hot
now and wet with perspiration.
When finally she reached the waterfalls, her face was flushed and her
heart was pumping with the exertion. Dropping the pack off her back
on to the ground, she sat down on a tree trunk. She unlaced her
plimsolls and took off her socks. Her feet were hot. She wiggled her
toes and stretched her legs out into the sun. The water gurgled and
splashed as it fell over the ledges into the rocky basin. The water
looked cool and inviting. She lifted her tee-shirt over her head and
took it off. Then her bra, and shorts. She stood, hesitating, wearing
only her red panties, and looked around. There wasn't a soul for miles
around. She stripped off the panties too, tossing them on to her heap
of clothes on a large flat rock. Raising her arms high above her head,
she stretched in the sun, feeling suddenly free and gloriously alive
and the joy was back. She laughed out loud and pirouetted on one
foot, feeling a warm breeze caress her bare skin and she lifted her
face to the sky and felt the sun warm upon it. She laughed again, then
looked down on the ground and tiptoed carefully to the water.
The water was icy cold as she slipped into it and the breath caught in
her throat. Goosepimples covered her arms and legs and it took a
moment before she could breathe normally again and the worst of the
cold eased from her limbs. She swam around the small pool, kicking
and splashing with vigour to keep her circulation going. After a while
she felt no longer cold and a sense of well-being pervaded her.
Later she sat on a rock, letting the sun dry her. She unbraided her hair
and shook it loose to let it dry too. It would take a long time for it
was thick and heavy and hung down to the middle of her back.
When the sun became too hot she spread the towel and the sarong out
on the ground for padding and lay down in the shade to read. Turning
from back to stomach she read for two hours straight through until
the book was finished. It was exciting and fascinating and held her
attention till the last page. Still, there was something about it that
bothered her.
It was a good, fast-moving story, a lot of action, which she assumed
appealed to male readers, and had an interesting hero. But something
was missing. There was something wrong with the hero. He was a
sharp, humorous man who acted purely on logic and reason.
There was no feeling in the man, no emotion. He did not get upset or
angry or sad or desperate. She sighed and laid the book aside, her
eyes catching the cheap cover design. The beautiful woman had
loved him and even her he had treated coldly and selfishly.
She had another drink of water and bit hungrily into a piece of
chicken. Having finished her lunch, the taste of pineapple still sweet
in her mouth, she lay down again and sighed contentedly. The air was
warm even in the shade. Closing her eyes, she listened to the noises
around her, the rushing water, the birds and the insects and the breeze
rustling the leaves.
When she opened her eyes she was no longer alone.
Justin was sitting not far from her in the shade and was looking at
her, his mouth faintly curling at the corners.
'Eve in the Garden of Eden,' he said softly. 'Very nice.'
CHAPTER THREE
FOR a moment she didn't move, just stared at him silently. Then heat
suffused her. She didn't know if it was anger or embarrassment or
both. Leaping to her feet, she turned her back to him, yanked the
sarong off the ground and wrapped it around herself.
He had as much right to be here as she did. Yet she felt as if he had
intruded on her private domain. She must have fallen asleep or she
would have heard him coming. How long had he been there looking
at her? Well, he'd probably seen the odd naked female in his life.
She sat down on the towel, cross-legged and silent, and began to
brush out her hair. It was still far from dry and was full of knots. She
must look like an ugly witch.
'You fell asleep reading my book?' It was a question without
accusation.
'I was finished,' she said curtly, yanking at her hair. Oh, damn, she
thought, I should just cut it all off.
'I get the impression you're not overjoyed to see me,' he said
conversationally.
'I wasn't dressed for' visitors.'
'That all depends on how you look at it,' he said evenly.
'Oh, shut up!' She threw down the brush, grabbed her clothes off the
rock and looked around for a place to change.
'Hey!' He leaped to his feet, stood in front of her and looked into her
eyes, frowning. 'What's the matter with you all of a sudden?'
She gave him a vicious look and turned away from him without
answering. He took her shoulders in an iron grip and turned her back.
'I was asking you a question,' he said softly. 'Now answer me. What
is wrong? What did I do?'
'Nothing. Now let go of me!'
He didn't. 'It started last night, didn't it? You didn't want me to kiss
you.'
She stared right into his eyes. 'Right.'
His expression didn't change. 'Well,' he said quietly, 'I like you. I'm
attracted to you. I like to be with you and talk to you. Last night I
wanted to kiss you. Is that so bad?'
She took a deep breath. 'All right, let me make this clear to you. This
is not a good time for me. I'm not in the mood for romance. I don't
want it.' She looked at him hard, her body rigid under his hands on
her shoulders. They felt warm and strong on her bare skin and she
swallowed painfully.
He lifted one hand and trailed his fingers through her damp hair.
'When?' he asked quietly.
'What do you mean, when?'
'When will you be in the mood again? I remember you here in this
very same place a long time ago.' There was the faintest flicker of
humour in his eyes. 'You were very much in the mood then.'
Linden sighed in frustration. 'Oh, for God's sake! I was a child. Silly,
romantic, wearing rose-coloured glasses.'
'Yes,' he agreed. 'And now you're no longer a child.' He took his
hands away and she turned to go.
'Don't leave, Linden. Have a swim.'
'I already did.'
'Well, have another one.'
'No. I'm going.' She went behind some bushes and pulled on her
clothes. Then she stuffed her things into the backpack, sat down
again and began to braid her hair while Justin watched her silently.
Finished, she slung the pack on her back and slipped her arms
through the straps.
'Wait,' he said suddenly, fishing around in his back pocket. 'I have a
letter for you.'
'A letter?'
'They gave it to me at the post office.' He handed it to her. 'I came to
your house to give it to you and Nazirah told me you'd gone on a hike
to the waterfalls. It seemed like a good idea.'
She took the letter from him, sliding the pack back to the ground. It
was from Liz. Linden sat back down on the rock and ripped it open
and began to read. Liz had found someone to sub-let Linden's
apartment, which was a relief. She was using her savings to pay the
rent—she'd been hesitant in letting go of the place. She read on:
Waite is frantic, he's been to see me several times now trying to find,
out where you are. I keep telling him I don't know, but he doesn't
believe me. Well, he isn't stupid, is he? He looks awful. He's suffering
badly. He loves you, you know.
She lowered the letter to her knees and looked blindly ahead, tears
filling her eyes. Her throat ached with the effort not to cry and she
swallowed hard and painfully. But suddenly the grief was too
overwhelming and she found the sobs rising in her. Hastily stuffing
the letter in her pack she got up and walked off into the shady
greenery, sat down on a fallen tree trunk and cried till her body
ached.
He was pouring coffee from a thermos when she came back. 'Have
some,' he said, handing her a cup. She took it without a word and sat
down again near the rocky pool, not looking at him. She felt washed
out from her crying. She knew she looked red-eyed and awful, but
she didn't care. Taking the towel from her pack, she dipped one end
into the water and held it against her face. The cold was a shock
against her heated face, but it felt good.
'What's his name?' Justin asked. 'Waite.'
'Looked like a woman's handwriting on the envelope.'
'It was. A letter from my friend. Waite doesn't know I am here.'
They sipped their coffee.
'Would you like a sandwich?'
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