'I can't leave,' he said huskily, taking her hands.
She pulled her hands loose. 'You'll have to! I'm not coming back to
you, Waite.'
There was raw pain in his eyes. 'I love you, Linden.'
'It's too late!' Despair rose inside her. 'It's too late! Don't . . . don't you
understand?' To her horror her voice shook.
'Don't say that, Linden. Please don't say that. I need you.'
'And what about me? What about my needs? I needed support in my
work and career! You didn't give it to me! You belittled me! I can't
sacrifice my sense of self-worth, my self-respect. Not for you, not for
anybody, Waite!' She took a deep breath. 'I like painting. I like what
I'm doing. I have no illusions about being extraordinarily talented,
but I do need some respect for what I am from the man in my life.
You didn't give it to me. You did not respect me. You used me!'
He shook his head. 'No, Linden, no. That's not true.' He reached out
to her again and she moved away. 'Don't touch me! Don't touch me!'
Her voice rose in fear. He paid no attention this time and he was too
fast for her. She was in his arms, his mouth on hers. She could feel
the trembling of his body as he pressed her against him. He kissed
her hard and long until finally she wrenched her head sideways,
gasping for breath. 'Let go of me,' she whispered fiercely. 'Let go of
me!' Then she heard the steps on the stairs and Justin stood in the
door.
'Take your hands off her!' The icy cold fury in his voice startled her.
Her knees were shaking. She glanced at Waite. His face looked pale.
His arms were still around her and for a moment he stared motionless
at Justin. Then slowly he lowered his arms and took a step forward.
She thought her heart would stop. They'll kill each other she thought
in panic. Oh, God, please don't let them start anything. She could
only see Waite's back, but she could imagine what was in his eyes.
His arms hung by his sides, the hands clenched into fists. And Justin,
his legs slightly apart, his eyes leaping with anger, looked ready for
anything. The air shivered with tension and the silence was
suffocating.
For endless minutes the two men faced each other, neither one
making a move. Then Waite's shoulders relaxed. He turned slowly
and looked at her for a fleeting moment. Then he crossed to the door,
past Justin and went down the stairs.
Justin advanced further into the room. 'Are you all right?'
She nodded, swallowing with difficulty.
'Did he hurt you?'
'No.' She wiped the hair out of her face. 'If you don't mind, I'd like to
be alone now.'
The watchful brown eyes scrutinised her closely. 'Why don't you
come over to my house for a drink?'
She shook her head. 'No, thank you. Not tonight.'
'Tomorrow night?'
'All right, thank you.'
He didn't immediately go, but stood there, regarding her for a long
moment. 'If you need me, you can come to me any time, Linden,' he
said quietly.
There was a lump in her throat. 'I know. Thank you.' She'd only seen
him once since Waite's arrival, as if he'd kept away from her on
purpose.
'Lock the damned place up,' he said, then turned away abruptly.
She watched him as he jumped down the stairs and walked back to
his own house, his strides long and unhurried. When she glanced at
Waite's house, there was no light. Everything was dark. She
wondered where he had gone.
The next morning she saw him go to the beach for a swim, but he did
not approach her again, for the rest of the day.
She should eat, but when dinner time came she had no appetite.
Looking around the kitchen dispiritedly, she wondered what to have.
There were eggs and fruit and bread and freshly ground peanut butter
that Nazirah had bought in the market that morning. Oil was floating
on the top and she screwed the lid back on the jar with disgust. She
peeled a banana and ate it.
She wished she hadn't promised to have a drink with Justin. She
needed a bath and a change of clothes and it seemed too much
trouble.
But the cold water refreshed her and she stood in front of the clothes
closet wondering what to put on. Local style was good enough, she
decided, pulling out a green blouse and a green and white sarong,
which she wrapped around her waist. It looked nice, hanging down to
her ankles, tight around her hips. She brushed out her hair and pulled
it away from her face with the tortoise shell combs. All that was left
was to slip into her sandals and she was ready. She went slowly
down the path to Justin's house, noticing from the corner of her eye
the light on Waite's verandah. He'd be there, reading. He would see
her going to Justin's house. There was nothing she could do about it.
She didn't mean to hurt him, or make him suspicious. Enough hurting
had been done already, but she couldn't help it. Quickly now she
rushed up the steps, knocking on the open door before she went in.
Dark head bent, Justin was sitting at his desk, reading through his
manuscript.
'I'm sorry. Did I come too early?'
'I was just waiting for you.' He put the papers down and pushed
himself to his feet. 'Gin and tonic?'
'Please.' He seemed so calm and controlled, moving easily as he
made for the kitchen.
'Come with me while I pour it,' he invited.
She followed him. A moderate supply of bottles stood on the corner
of the counter. From the refrigerator he took a bottle of tonic and a
lime. 'There's a knife in the drawer. Cut off what you like.' He handed
her the lime and his hand touched hers. It was deliberate, she knew,
and his eyes held hers for a moment. She felt a tingle in her blood
and looked away, uncomfortable.
He poured gin into her glass and filled it up with tonic. She found a
knife and a cutting board and sliced off a piece of the lime, then
squeezed it into her glass. It slipped from her fingers before she was
finished and her trembling hand touched the rim of the glass and it
fell over on the counter, spilling the drink, but not breaking.
'Oh, damn, I'm such a klutz,' she muttered, picking up the glass and
wiping the rest of the drink down the sink. 'I'm sorry. I've got the
jitters lately.'
'So it seems.' He took the glass from her fingers and put her face in
his hands. 'I don't like what I'm seeing, Linden.'
She stood very still, her eyes on his. Her heart began to hammer and
she felt a quickening of her pulses. His thumb caressed the edge of
her lower lip, and she twisted her face away.
'Please don't, Justin,' she whispered.
He lowered his face and his lips touched hers very briefly, then he
released her.
'I'll pour you another drink.'
She looked at his hand holding the bottle. A strong brown hand with
fingers that knew how to touch gently. She wished she wouldn't think
these things. She turned abruptly and left the kitchen.
Back in the living room, Justin sat down next to her on the couch.
'I've decided to go back home,' he said. 'I think it's time.'
'Oh! When?'
'As soon as my book is finished. Another month or so. I'll take the
manuscript to New York myself. My editor seems to think it's time
for me to come out of hiding. My agent is of the same opinion. He's
working on a movie deal for my last book and I'll need to be there.
They want to do some publicity for this one, and. ..'
'A movie deal?' She practically gaped at him. 'That's fantastic!'
He grinned. 'I was rather bowled over myself.'
'You're going to be famous.'
'Only if they make the deal, and only if the movie is a success. I'm
counting on nothing.'
'Are you going to live in the States for good?'
He shrugged. 'What's for good? I hope to have a long life ahead of
me. Very boring to plan it all out ahead of time. I'm sure there will be
times that I want to go back to Pelangi for a while. A reprieve, a
vacation, whatever. I don't know what's in the future. I don't even
want to know.'
'Do you ever think about being a reporter again?'
'Not really. It's behind me now. I think I'll leave it to others.'
She drank her gin and tonic, feeling very thirsty. 'What about the
houses?'
'I'll sell them. I know some people who are interested.'
'Who? Foreigners?'
'Oh, no. Islanders.'
She sighed with relief. 'I'm glad. You'll keep your own?'
'Yes. I want to be able to come back whenever I feel like it.' He
drained his glass. 'How about another drink?'
'Please.'
But the second drink was a mistake. By the time she had finished it
she felt awful. A banana was not dinner, and lunch had been
negligible. She straightened in her chair, trying to look alert. But
Justin was not easily deceived. His observant eyes missed nothing.
'What's the matter?'
She might as well confess. She sighed. 'I don't feel very well. My
head is swimming. I shouldn't have had that second drink.'
He frowned. 'Two gin and tonics shouldn't do that.'
'I hardly had anything to eat today.' She stood up. 'I'd better go home.'
But her legs felt rubbery underneath her and the room swirled around
alarmingly.
'Sit. Don't move.' He pushed her down. 'You need something in your
stomach.' He strode out of the room and returned a short while later
with a cup of coffee and two slices of toast.
'How do you make toast without electricity?' she asked.
'In a non-stick frying pan on top of the gas ring.'
'I didn't know you could do that. You're so clever.' She examined the
toast. 'It does look funny.'
'You can't have everything. It tastes fine. Eat up. I won't have you
passing out in my house if I can help it.'
'I've never passed out in my life.'
'I wouldn't want you to start it now.'
She made a face at him arid bit into her toast. She felt better after she
had eaten and the coffee tasted good. He was watching her as she ate.
'No wonder you have the jitters. You don't eat.'
'I don't seem to have an appetite any more. I don't know why. Maybe
I have some tropical amoeba doing unthinkable things to my insides.'
'I doubt it,' he said drily, 'the creature troubling you is six feet tall and
speaks English.'
Maybe even two of those, she thought, but didn't say it. She drank the
coffee and put the cup on the table. 'Thank you. That was nice.'
'Why is he still here?'
'He's trying to win me back.'
He looked at her intently. 'From what I've seen he hasn't made much
progress.'
She stood up. 'He's a persistent man.'
He stood up too. 'Are you scared?'
She swallowed. 'Yes.' She turned and walked to the door. 'I'll go now.
Good night, Justin.'
'I'll walk you home.'
'I'll be all right.'
'I'd rather just be there when you go down the stairs and up yours.'
'I'm not drunk, for heaven's sake.'
'I didn't say you were. But you were sure looking green there for a
moment.'
She followed him down the stairs. She was still feeling a little giddy,
but nothing much to worry about. He waited for her to go into her
house, then turned to go back. He hadn't attempted to touch her or
kiss her. When she looked out the window she saw Waite still sitting
on the verandah.
The next morning she woke to the sound of someone pounding on
her bedroom door.
'Who is it? What…'
'Justin,' came the short reply. 'Are you decent?'
'What do you want?'
The door opened and. his head appeared around the corner. 'I'm
cooking you breakfast this morning. You have ten minutes to get
yourself to the table.'
She pulled the sheet over her head and groaned. 'I don't want to eat.'
'You'll have to force yourself.'
'I'll get sick.'
'No you won't. Nobody ever got sick on my omelettes.'
'Oh, leave me alone!'
'My mistake has been that I've left you alone too much. Now get out
of bed or I'll give you personal assistance.'
'You would too, wouldn't you?'
'Absolutely.'
She gave a martyred sigh and sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.
'All right, all right. Go do your thing in the kitchen.'
'Your graceful acceptance of my generous offer is most touching.'
'Get lost!' She picked up her pillow with one hand and threw it in his
direction. He caught it neatly and tossed it back at her. His aim was
superb. It would have hit her right in the face had she not grabbed it
with both hands, an automatic gesture that resulted in the sheet
slipping down to her waist. It took a fraction of a second to realise
she was sitting there in all her bare-breasted glory clutching the
pillow in front of her face. She lowered it, covering her chest, and
noticed Justin's smirk.
'Great catch,' he said, closing the door behind him.
Linden made a face at the closed door and slid her legs over the edge
of the bed.
It was not such a terrible ordeal after all to eat a decent breakfast. The
omelette Justin made was light and fluffy and delicious, and her
stomach did not object in the least.
'Thank you,' she said when she was finished. 'That was very good.'
'You're welcome,' he said with an exaggerated bow of his head. 'And
now I've got to get back to my miserable little manual typewriter.
Take one guess as to what I'm going to buy as soon as I'm back
home.'
'An electric one.'
'Wrong. I'm going to get me a word processor. No more fooling
around with primitive typewriters.'
'I'm impressed. Computers intimidate me no end.'
'If you can type, you can use a word processor.'
'Give me a manual brush and a few pots of primitive paint any time.'
He smiled into her eyes. 'All right, it's a deal.'
And before the meaning of his words sank in, he had left.
Waite brought her flowers the next day, a huge bunch of orchids of
various kinds—large pink ones and smaller white ones and sprigs of
tiny yellow ones in clusters. It was a typical Waite gesture—
extravagant, embarrassing.
'Thank you,' she said. 'They're beautiful.' Which was the truth. Now
what was she going to do with them? There wasn't a vase in the
house. There were some empty glass jars and a brown-and-yellow
can that had contained KLIM milk powder. He watched her as she
arranged the flowers in the various containers, then followed her into
the living room where she put the orchids on the coffee table and the
book shelves.
'Orchids in a jam jar. Good title for a book,' she said. 'Or for a movie.'
She was standing with her back turned to him, looking at the flowers
on the shelf. The next moment she felt his arms around her, turning
her towards him, holding her tightly.
'I can't take any more, Linden,' he said hoarsely. 'I can't stand not
touching you. You're beautiful. I love you. I want you.' He began to
kiss her feverishly and she wrenched her face away.
'Stop it! Waite, stop it!'
'Last night you were at Justin's house for hours. I thought I was going
crazy. What is it between him and you?'
She stood rigidly in his arms. 'Let me go, Waite.'
'No. I'm not! Answer me!'
'I don't owe you an answer! I don't owe you anything!'
There was a silence. He was fighting with himself, she could tell. She
felt sick.
'Linden,' he said softly, 'please come home with me. We'll start over.
We'll get married if you like. Everything will be better, you'll see.'
His voice was so persuasive, his eyes so full of promise and love. 'As
soon as the weather gets better we'll go camping in the mountains
again. We'll go to New York for a long weekend.'
She closed her eyes for a moment. 'Please, don't do this, Waite. I told
you, it's over. Please, please just leave me alone.'
His hands were in her hair, winding it around his hands and she was
trapped. He pushed her face back and kissed her again, pressing her
against him. She tried to keep herself as rigid as possible, not to
respond to his kisses. He let her go eventually.
'I thought you loved me,' he said bitterly.
'I did.'
'Can't you forgive me? It happened once. Only once!'
Once is too often! She took a deep breath, relieved to be free of his
embrace. 'Maybe in time I can. But I can't forget, Waite. I can't ever
forget what you did to me.'
'Give me another chance. I'll do anything. Just one more chance.' -,
'It wouldn't solve anything, don't you see? Nothing will change. You
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