carry bag that held the toothpaste. Not much of a weapon. Flat
sandals were no good either. Who'd ever thought she might need a
can of mace on Rainbow Island? Or a little panic whistle. Shriek,
shriek—help, help.
They came to the last village house. A narrow path led to her and
Justin's houses. It was not very long. It was pitch dark. In her haste
she stumbled and almost tripped. He took her arm.
'Let me help you.'
She yanked her arm out of his grasp and walked on. Fortunately it
wasn't far, but it seemed longer than it ever had. When she reached
her house she was breathing hard.
'Good night,' she said in a tone that was barely civil. She started up
the stairs.
He followed her up. She opened the door quickly, but she was not
fast enough. He was inside, before she could close the door on him.
He closed the door behind him and swiftly moved over to the
painting and looked at it.
'Miss Mitchell, I am willing to pay you a generous price for your
painting.'
'It's not for sale,' she said coldly. She was still standing near the door,
ready to leave.
He was not put off in the least. He came slowly over to her, smiling,
his eyes directed on her breast.
'I'll pay you a thousand dollars.'
He wasn't lying at least. Generous it was.
'I told you, it's not for sale.' She opened the door. 'Please go, Mr
Marinozzi.'
He moved very close to her and put his hand on her hair. She reared
back and he smiled.
'I'm not talking about ringgit—Malaysian dollars,' he said carefully. 'I
mean American dollars.'
She stood very still. One thousand US dollars. It was way out of line.
Despite the tropical heat, she was suddenly cold with anger. She
glared at him.
'Mr Marinozzi, my painting is not for sale,' she said icily. 'And
neither am I.' She took a deep breath. 'And I want you out of my
house this very minute, or I'll scream the place down. Out! Now!' She
stepped back far enough to give herself a chance to put her threat into
action if he made one move in the wrong direction.
He did not. He stood in the open doorway, and gave her an evil look.
'Don't excite yourself, Miss Mitchell. I'm going. But I'll be back.' He
turned and went down the stairs into the night.
She slammed the door shut, then locked it and leaned against it,
shaking. She closed her eyes. The bastard, she thought furiously.
That miserable slithery bastard!
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Pounding on the door. Her
heart beat in her throat.
'Linden? It's me, Justin. Open the door.'
She felt faint with relief, turned the key and let him in. His hands
were in the back pockets of his shorts, his eyebrows drawn together
in a frown.
'What was going on here? I heard you slam the door and when I
looked out I saw Marinozzi walk away.'
'Sit down.' She lowered herself in a chair and took a deep breath. 'He
still wants to buy my painting. He offered me one thousand dollars
for it. Not ringgit, mind you. US dollars.'
For a moment he said nothing, digesting this in silence. 'I see,' he said
then. 'And what did you say to that very generous offer?'
'What do you think I said? I told him my painting is not for sale, and
neither am I.'
'And then?'
'I told him to get out. He did. However, he promised he'd be back.'
Justin nodded thoughtfully, then pushed himself to his feet. 'I think
I'd better take care of our friend before he changes his tactics. Make
sure you lock up tight.'
'I don't think he'll try rape,' she said lightly. 'Or he would have tried it
earlier.'
'We don't know that, do we?' He wasn't laughing.
'What are you going to do?'
'Make sure he leaves at first light tomorrow morning.' He strode out
the door and jumped down the stairs taking three steps at a time. At
the bottom he stopped and looked up. 'I'll pick you up at nine in the
morning, all right?'
'I'll be ready.'
He disappeared in the direction of the little house Marinozzi had
rented. She wondered what Justin would say to the man, how he
could make him leave. There was always brute force, of course, but
she couldn't quite picture Marinozzi in a fight. He was so out of
shape he'd be down and out in a matter of moments. Not that I'd mind
that, she thought nastily.
It was only minutes later when Justin came outside again. He strode
down the path to his own house, went up the stairs and into the front
door.
In the morning they left at nine, walked to the wharf and climbed into
Justin's motor boat. Soon they were out on the water.
'Did Marinozzi leave this morning?' she asked.
'Yes. I saw to it personally.'
'He didn't give you any problem?'
'None in the least.'
'I wonder why.'
He shrugged. 'The man is a coward.'
'What did you say?'
He grinned. 'I told him if he valued his looks he'd better get out of my
way.'
She couldn't help laughing. 'You'd think anything would be an
improvement.' She grimaced. 'That sounded pretty spiteful, didn't it?
Well, charity in the face of rottenness has never been my strong
point. I guess at heart I'm not really a nice person.'
He nodded. 'Malicious, unforgiving.'
'Hey! You didn't have to agree with me!'
He laughed and she barely controlled the urge to stick out her tongue
at him. She leaned back on her arms, lifted her face in the wind and
closed her eyes, 'This feels heavenly. Nothing better than clean sea
air.'
But she'd said the same about the air in rural Pennsylvania in spring,
when everything was crisp and green and the crops were sprouting
and the wind was fresh and clean. Or the air in the mountains—
fragrant with the smell of pines.
Sadness swept over her. So many memories were all tied up with
Waite. Would she ever be able to think even simple thoughts without
feeling this pain?
She opened her eyes and Justin was looking at her and there was no
doubt what was in his eyes. She looked away, feeling her heart
contract. I don't want a lover, she wanted to say. I need a friend.
Please, be my friend. But it wasn't something you just said out loud.
And it probably wasn't possible at all. Many did not believe there
could be true friendship between a man and a woman that excluded
sex. Maybe it was true. Maybe it was always there in the background,
that primitive instinct, drawing them together.
And how easy it would be with Justin. She started at the shape of
Penang coming closer and closer.
She felt a hand on her knee and looked up. He withdrew his hand.
'What were you thinking about?'
She hesitated. 'Do you believe non-sexual friendship between men
and women is possible?'
'There are many kinds of friendship.'
'I mean a real, close friendship.'
He shook his head slowly. 'No. Not for me, at any rate.' He paused.
'Were you thinking about us in particular, by any chance?'
'Yes.'
He shook his head in disbelief. 'Linden, we hardly have a non-sexual
relationship. The fact that we haven't acted on it doesn't make it any
less so.'
She didn't answer. Spray splashed over the side of the boat and wet
her face. She wiped it off. It was true of course. The feelings were
there between them, undeniable. It was only a matter of time. Or a
matter of avoiding it by leaving.
They said nothing more until they reached Telok Bahang's fishing
pier. Justin jumped out and tied the boat up to one of the bamboo
poles. The boat wobbled precariously as Linden stepped on to the
side, and Justin held out his hand. She reached for it. She made an
unlucky jump and nearly lost her balance, but with an almighty yank
Justin practically dragged her on to the pier. She fell against him,
laughing, and he steadied her with both arms around her.
'You practically dislocated my arm!' she said accusingly, looking up
into his laughing face.
'I know how to fix that.'
'I'm not surprised.'
He was still holding her against him, showing no signs of releasing
her.
'I'm steady now,' she announced.
'I'm not finished with you yet.' And with that he kissed her full on the
mouth, an outrageously passionate kiss that rendered her weak and
motionless. He withdrew without letting her go and held her gaze.
'And that is to warn you not to have any more silly ideas about what
kind of relationship we have.' He let go of her then, picked up her
suitcase and his own faded dufflebag, suddenly all business again.
Her legs no longer steady, she walked behind him along the narrow
plank pier to the beach.
'Wait for me here,' he said. 'I have to find out where I should leave
the boat. I may be taking up someone else's place down there.'
Ten minutes later, the boat in a different spot, they walked to the
road. A teksi was waiting, the driver leaning against the door,
smoking a cigarette.
'Where did he come from?'
'I made arrangements with the hotel to have a taxi waiting for us
here. We'll drop off our stuff, have a cup of coffee and go straight
into George Town.'
It was strange to be in such luxurious surroundings after more than
two months in a simple fishing village. Soft carpeting everywhere.
Deep, upholstered chairs. The coolness of air conditioning.
They had adjoining rooms with a two-sided connecting door, which
was locked. Standard rooms, nicely appointed, but similar to rooms
in a hundred other modern hotels. Stepping into the room there was a
bathroom on one side of a narrow passage and a wardrobe on the
other. Then a bedroom with a big double bed, two easy chairs and a
coffee table, a desk, a chest of drawers, a television set and a small
refrigerator. There was soft blue carpeting, heavy curtains to block
out the early morning light, plenty of lamps, and an air conditioning
going full speed, making the place feel like Minnesota in the dead of
winter.
'What do you think?' Justin was standing behind her and she turned
around, rubbing her arms.
'Positively luxurious after my humble abode on Pelangi. It's lacking
one thing though.'
He raised his eyebrows, 'Oh?'
'A fireplace. I'm freezing.'
He grinned and looked around for the thermostat. 'It's on its coldest
setting. 'I'll turn it up.'
'Thanks.'
The coffee shop was partially outside, surrounded by blooming plants
and trees, and had a postcard- picture view of the beach and ocean.
The small tables were covered with cloths and had a small vase of
flowers in the middle. There was a cart with pastries— black forest
gateau, rum cake, cheese cake and more. They succumbed to the
temptation.
'You know what I'd like for lunch?' she asked, swallowing her last
bite of chocolate cake and cream.
'How can you think of lunch with your stomach full of cake?'
'Easy. I'd like a cheeseburger. A big one with lots of cheese and
tomatoes and onions and pickles and a double serving of french fries.'
She feigned an expression of heavenly delight and sighed longingly.
Justin rolled his eyes. 'You've got to be kidding. Junk food! In a place
where they have the best food in the world!' He looked quite
outraged and she laughed.
'Listen, I'm only a honky from Pennsylvania. After two months of
Oriental cuisine, delicious as it may be, I want a hamburger and
french fries.'
He sighed in resignation. 'I imagine McDonald's has found it's way to
Georgetown. And if by some miracle it hasn't, the big hotel coffee
shops no doubt will have burgers for unimaginative foreigners.'
She gave him a saintly smile. 'I won't take offence.'
'Good. There's cream on your nose.' He leaned over and ran his finger
over her nose before she'd taken her napkin off her lap. He licked his
finger. 'Mmm . . . tastes like you.'
'You're crazy.'
He nodded. 'I am—about you.'
'You're trying to make me feel bad.'
'I'm not. You don't understand. I'd like to make you feel good.' There
was humour in his voice, but his eyes were serious.
'Have you been drinking?'
'Yes. Coffee. Come on, drink up and let's go.'
In the back of a taxi he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled
her closer. She tried to move away.
'Stop it, Justin, please.'
'What am I going to do about you, Linden?' he whispered. 'I've tried
to be the gentleman, but it's not easy, you know. I haven't touched a
woman in . . .'
'Spare me! I don't want to hear the details of your love life!'
'What love life?'
She sighed in exasperation. 'It's not my fault you're such a failure in
that department. I thought western men liked oriental girls. Why
haven't you married one by now? They make wonderful wives.
Beautiful, sweet, willing, obedient to your every command.' She
spoke in a low voice, not wanting the driver to overhear their
conversation.
He nodded. 'It's what's called boring. Besides, they giggle too much.'
'Well, you banished yourself to this island. Don't punish me for it.
Now take your arm away!'
'Relax,' he whispered in her ear. 'What can possibly happen in the
back of a taxi?'
'Use your imagination!' she hissed, and he broke away, laughing.
CHAPTER SIX
I haven't been happy like this for ages. It was a conscious thought
that came to her as they were walking along a narrow, busy street in
George Town eating roasted Chinese chestnuts. They'd bought them
from a roadside cart, a whole half-kilo of them in a cone-shaped bag
fashioned from a Chinese newspaper.
It felt so good to be happy, to feel this light-hearted joy in being here
in this exotic town of dazzling lights and spicy fragrances—to be
here with a man who made her laugh.
He kept touching her—holding her hand, putting an arm around her
shoulder, wiping hair away fr
om her face. His eyes kept coming back
to her, laughing into hers, telling her what his mouth didn't say. And
she couldn't help but smile back, relishing his touch.
They'd had their hamburgers for lunch; Justin eating not only one,
but two.
'Aren't you ashamed of yourself?' she'd asked. 'Eating hamburgers
with all this great food available?'
He looked innocent. 'Why should I?'
'Hamburgers, in Asia?'
'What's wrong with hamburgers? Good honest American food for
good honest American citizens.'
'So why did you give me a bad time about wanting a hamburger?'
'I did? Why would I do that?' He took another bite which prevented
him from saying anything more for the next few minutes, his eyes
laughing into hers.
'You're impossible,' she said feebly.
All afternoon they'd explored the town, on foot and in a trishaw,
telling each other what they remembered of the colourful history of
the town.
They'd gone treasure hunting in the junk shops along Rope Walk and
found each other Christmas presents—buying them secretly. Among
the assorted junk were knick-knacks of all sorts—wood and brass and
bone, carved or painted. Old saris and sarongs, chipped Chinese
bowls and dishes and spoons, cracked lacquer boxes. In a box full of
dusty odds and ends she'd found a small Indian elephant carved of
yellowed ivory. It was dusty and dirty, but whole. The carving was
delicate and intricate and she could clean it with a toothbrush. She
could use the one she had and buy a new one at the hotel drugstore.
She wondered what it was he had bought for her. It seemed heavy. It
was roundish, wrapped in newspaper and he carried it in a plastic
bag.
'Where shall we have dinner?' he asked. 'What would you like to eat?'
She considered for a moment. 'Something hot and spicy. How about
an Indian curry?'
'Nasi Kandar? I know just the right place.' He laughed and squeezed
her hand. 'I was worried you'd want a hotdog.'
It was late when they came back to the hotel, but the lobby bar was
still full of people dressed in their finest, drinking exotic drinks and
listening to a three- man band singing Christmas songs.
'How about a drink?' Justin asked. 'Or are you too tired?'
'Me? Tired on Christmas Eve? Never. Just let me shower and change.
I'll see you in the lobby bar in twenty minutes. Is that too long?'
'I've never heard of a woman who can shower and change in twenty
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