The Promise

by Jane Peart

  Jana’s eyes traveled quickly down the page, which was headed “Be Interested in Whatever He Is Interested in.” She threw the magazine back at Edith. “That sounds stupid to me. Dishonest! Why should we pretend, like this is some kind of childish game of make-believe? Surely you don’t believe all this drivel?”

  Edith looked indignant. “Well, it’s worth a try! I don’t intend to be ignored, as we usually are when Bayard is here.” Flinging back her hair, she lifted her chin defiantly, her eyes flashing. “You can suit yourself, but I’m sure going to try it.” Edith shrugged. “And tonight.”

  Jana shook her head. “I don’t think I can change that much. Be any way but just me.”

  “I don’t mean change, Jana. I just don’t want to be treated like a child anymore. Not by Bayard and not by his friends. You can do what you want.”

  Jana stared at Edith with a mixture of dismay and admiration. Edith was so pretty, so confident. She seemed charged with joyous energy at the prospect of waging a campaign to capture one of her brother’s classmates. For her it was a game.

  Suddenly Jana realized it was a game that she had no idea how to play.

  Chapter Five

  That evening Jana was dressed first. She was waiting at the top of the stairway, ready to go down to dinner, when Edith came flying out into the hall. Her hair, swept up in a new style, had not been secured properly, and hairpins went scattering in her wake.

  “Uh-oh! I’d better go back and fix it!” she exclaimed and went running back to her room.

  Jana, who was wearing her hair in the usual way—tied back with a bow—smiled resignedly. There was no use complaining. Kiki was determined to present a grown-up image tonight. And that evidently meant pinning her hair up, however inexpertly.

  Jana wandered over to examine the life-size portrait of Edith’s mother that hung in the alcove of the landing. Jana had seen many photographs of her. They were all over the house. She had never really studied this gold-framed painting. In it, Ketura Preston, although she was dressed in a gown designed by a famous Parisian clothier and was holding an ostrich-plume fan in one graceful hand, looked every inch the Hawaiian princess she had been.

  Looking at it closely, Jana decided that Edith looked more like her mother than she had realized. Except for their coloring. Edith was blond, while Ketura’s hair was a gleaming black. However, their features were very much alike. Both had a small, delicate nose, dark eyes, a full, curved mouth. Gazing at the portrait, Jana felt a twinge of pity for her friend growing up without a mother. No wonder Edith was the way she was sometimes.

  “All right, I’m ready now. How does it look?” Edith put a tentative hand to the French twist she had managed to achieve, if imperfectly. “Do I look at least eighteen? Twenty?” she asked hopefully.

  “You look lovely!” Jana laughed and tucked her hand into her friend’s arm and pulled her toward the stairway. “You’ll be the star of the evening.”

  Jana didn’t realize how true her teasing prediction would prove to be.

  Reaching the last step, they heard the murmur of male voices coming from the lanai, through the drawing room doors. Outside, a purple dusk was just falling. Tiki torches on the lawn illuminated the lanai, where Bayard and his guests were gathered with Colonel Preston. Edith dropped one eyelid in a conspiratorial wink. “Come on, let’s make our grand entrance.”

  “Wait, Kiki,” Jana protested mildly, feeling suddenly shy about meeting all these strangers. But it was no use. Edith pulled her relentlessly forward.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Edith announced gaily.

  Three white-linen-jacketed backs were to the doorway, and Colonel Preston and Bayard were facing it. At Edith’s voice, all three turned with eager smiles. Colonel Preston’s face was immediately wreathed in an indulgent smile of welcome.

  “My daughter, Edith, and her friend Jana Rutherford, gentlemen,” he announced. “Welcome, ladies.”

  Jana caught Bayard’s surprised and rather disapproving expression. Why? she wondered. Didn’t he like to see his little sister in her new grown-up appearance? That first impression of Bayard’s reaction to their entrance lingered. Did his disapproval include her as well? Was he annoyed that the two girls he remembered as children were being admitted to the grown-ups’ party?

  She recalled the first time she had seen Bayard Preston. She had been an eleven-year-old girl, he a seventeen-year-old prep-school boy home for the summer. To Jana, in a way, he had always seemed like a royal prince out of the pages of a fairy tale. Tall, athletic, he had the same tawny gold hair that Edith had inherited from their father. Bayard’s manner had been a combination of arrogance and condescension, all characteristics she attributed to royalty.

  Even though he had treated Edith and her friends with lofty indifference, it was no more than the young Jana expected of a prince. The Preston Ranch was like a kingdom, with its own rules, activities, behavior. Although Bayard had mostly ignored her, Jana had observed him. He seemed as at ease among his father’s friends as he was among the paniolos. He could ride with the best of them and was fearless in the saddle.

  All three of Bayard’s guests were tall, well built, nice looking. They did, however, look pale. Of course, they would be, having come from the mainland, where it was midwinter. They were introduced to her as Joel Matthews, Tom Markham, Greg Amory. Then Edith said to Bayard, “You remember Jana Rutherford, don’t you, Bayard?”

  Bayard lifted an eyebrow. “Not looking like this.” He moved forward and took Jana’s hand, his eyes amused. “Not all grown up. When did this happen?”

  “It’s a natural process, I’m told,” she replied, not meaning to sound clever or flippant. But everyone laughed, including Bayard.

  His steady gaze made her feel uncomfortable. She turned away from him to address Joel Matthews, whose boyish good looks and nice smile were less threatening and who seemed eager to talk to her.

  “How do you like the island so far?” she asked him.

  “It’s beautiful. I had no idea. It’s my first trip to the islands, you see…“ This enthusiastic response was all that someone who loved Hawaii as much as Jana could hope for. They immediately fell into conversation, which was interrupted eventually by the mellow sound of the dinner gong being struck.

  Joel offered Jana his arm, and they started into the dining room. On the way, she showed him the brass Chinese gong, suspended between teakwood posts, used by one of the servants to signal that dinner was being served.

  Ceiling fans whirred over the beautifully set table, making the large dining room refreshingly cool. Each place held gold-rimmed, hand-painted china settings, crystal goblets.

  Seated next to Jana, Joel immediately resumed their conversation.

  “After Bayard’s invitation, I read everything I could find about the Hawaiian Islands, and I must say, they’ve more than lived up to my imagination. I hope you realize how lucky you are to live here. What a climate, what gorgeous flowers, what colors. My mother is an avid gardener, and she fusses and hovers over her flowers constantly, but her best prize blooms don’t compare with what I’ve seen here. She’d go out of her mind to see what grows wild on this island.”

  “I guess we’re so used to it, we don’t realize how it must seem to malihinis.”

  “Malihinis?” Joel looked puzzled.

  “Oh, sorry! Malihinis. Tourists, mainlanders. That’s Hawaiian.”

  “So you speak the language, too?”

  “Of course. I was born here.”

  “Good grief. I didn’t realize. What I mean to say is, I hadn’t thought of people like you—like us—actually being born here. Being natives, so to speak.”

  “Bayard was. Didn’t you know?”

  “Bayard? Well yes, I guess so. Just never thought. I mean, he’s so typically a Yaley! I guess with Bayard having gone to prep school in New England and then on to college there, like we all did—Greg, Tom, and me—I never actually thought of him as being Hawaiian.”

  “Of course, hi
s parents were both haoles. Mainlanders. Both the Colonel and Bayard’s mother are not of Hawaiian ancestry. But Bayard was born right here. Now, Edith’s mother, the Colonel’s second wife, was Hawaiian. From a royal family, actually—the alli, the clans of ancient chieftains who were here before the white men came.”

  Joel shook his head. “Fascinating.”

  Suddenly Jana was conscious that Bayard was regarding her intently. Her cheeks grew warm. She wondered if he had overheard her giving Joel the background of the Preston family. And if he had, did he mind? Flustered, she turned back to Joel. However, now Joel was engaged in a conversation with Edith, who was on his other side, and Jana was left momentarily to her own thoughts.

  She chanced another quick look at Bayard. Elegantly dressed in a white linen dinner jacket, starched shirt, and black tie, he looked even more handsome than she’d remembered. At the ranch, where she usually saw him, he wore the rough clothes of the paniolos with whom he rode.

  She knew he was a daring rider. Once, she and Edith had overheard a tongue-lashing that the Colonel was giving him for some reckless stunt. They had been in the hall outside the library when the sound of the Colonel’s voice, raised angrily, reached them.

  “What are you trying to do, break your neck—or worse, get yourself killed?” Colonel Preston had shouted. “Don’t you know that this ranch, everything, will someday belong to you? That is, if you don’t land in a ditch, or down a cliff, with your fool stunts. Listen to me, young man. I don’t ever want to hear of you risking yourself so foolishly again, do you understand?”

  Edith, startled, had clutched Jana’s arm so tightly that it had left marks. Subdued, shaken, they had tiptoed down the hall and run upstairs, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping.

  For some reason that incident came back to Jana now. It took Joel’s touching her arm and repeating something to bring her back to the present. “Tell me about the language,” Joel urged. “It sounds so musical when it’s spoken.”

  “The Hawaiian language has only a dozen letters. The five English vowels plus h, k, l, m, n, p, and w. Sound every letter, even in a string of vowels. Usually you put the accent on the next-to-last syllable.”

  “Amazing,” Joel said with honest awe. “We struggle with Latin at college, but none of us speak a second language. I think it’s the American arrogance. Even when traveling in Europe, nobody seems to bother to learn the language of the country in which they’re traveling. Instead, we rely on phrase books. Actually, it’s insulting to the people of that country.”

  Listening to Joel’s comments, she was impressed by such sensitivity in a man so young. How did he happen to be friends with Bayard Preston, who was about as indifferent to others’ feelings as anyone she knew? She glanced across the table at Bayard now. He was telling a long, wild tale about some college prank in which he and a friend had been involved, making it sound hilarious rather than relating how humiliating it must have been for the poor student on whom the practical joke had been played. But that was Bayard—only concerned with himself.

  As dinner progressed, the room came alive with gaiety. Colonel Preston could be the most gracious of hosts. The conversation was spirited, punctuated with cross-table quips and laughter. Once or twice more Jana caught Bayard’s gaze upon her. There was something challenging in it. Like a dare of some kind. She was reminded of Colonel Preston’s warning to his son about his irresponsibility. What reckless venture did Bayard have in mind?

  It wasn’t long until she found out.

  After dinner, back in the drawing room, Colonel Preston suggested that Edith play the piano. When she demurred, he insisted. Edith knew better than to argue further. Throwing a resigned glance at Jana, Edith took her place at the grand Steinway. While everyone was finding seats, Bayard came up behind Jana, took her by the arm, and quietly led her out onto the lanai.

  “Isn’t this rude?” she whispered.

  “I’ve heard Edith play before—dozens of times—and you must have, too,” he said. “I’ve heard her practicing for years, for heaven’s sake. Besides, I wanted to talk to you, and Joel has been monopolizing you all evening.”

  Jana tugged at her arm and he dropped his grip. The lanai was silver swept with moonlight. The fragrance from the gardenia bushes that bordered it sweetened the night air with a heavy, exotic scent.

  Bayard drew a long breath. “You forget about all this when you’re gone. It’s like learning about the island all over again when you come back. Things change and yet this place remains, somehow, strangely the same.” He turned toward her. “Except you. You’ve changed. You’re all grown up. I can’t seem to get over it. How much you’ve changed.”

  Jana didn’t repeat the retort she’d made to that same remark earlier.

  “Sorry, that was quite blunt for me to say. I don’t mean to offend you. My only excuse is that I had the same reaction when I saw Edith. You see, she’s always been my little sister to me. I’ve thought of her that way, talked about her that way. It never occurred to me when I brought home my friends that—well, you see what I mean? I find she’s become a young lady. Pretty, beautiful even, and too flirtatious for her own good. Certainly attractive to my friends. Did you notice how Tom was drawn like a moth to a flame? And how Edith was enjoying every minute?”

  Jana was amused that Bayard seemed genuinely bewildered by his little sister’s transformation. She wondered what Bayard would think if he knew this was exactly how Edith had planned it. Of course, she would never betray her friend.

  “Not to say that Joel isn’t equally taken with you,” was his next comment.

  “Me? Oh, you’re mistaken. He’s just very interested in learning about Hawaii, so—”

  “Don’t be naive,” Bayard scoffed. “He could find all that out in a travel book. He is getting immense enjoyment out of hearing it from you.”

  Astonished, she nevertheless couldn’t help being a little pleased at this. Especially to have Bayard notice. Still, she had not consciously used any of the “feminine wiles” Edith had been lecturing her on before dinner.

  “You have no idea how very attractive you are, do you, Jana?” Bayard asked, looking at her with his head to one side, as if contemplating her. He took a step toward her, put his forefinger under her chin, tipped it up, studied it in the moonlight. “Know what went through my mind when Edith introduced you? I thought, ‘Impossible. That skinny, freckle-faced, long-legged tomboy? Turned into this lovely creature?’”

  Jana took a step back from him.

  “I’m sorry,” Bayard apologized. “I didn’t mean to—” He halted. “You are quite lovely, but thank God, you don’t realize it. At least, not yet. Heaven help us when you do.”

  He moved away, walked to the edge of the lanai, looked out toward the sea. “I forget how beautiful it is here. I go for weeks at a time—forgetting how I feel when the ship moves into the harbor and I see those steep green cliffs, the rim of blue water rolling up on the beaches. My heart twists in my chest.” He turned around, almost glared at Jana. “Do you know what I mean? No, of course you don’t. You’ve never been off this island, and neither has Edith.”

  He spun around suddenly and said abruptly, “Don’t mind me, Jana. I’m always like this my first week back on the island.” He changed the subject. “So tell me, what are you planning to do when you finish at the island school? Go to the mainland?”

  “I want to be an artist. I’d really like to go to some art school, but my parents think—well, they want me to go to teachers college, which is probably the right thing to do.”

  “Not follow your own heart?” There was an edge of discernible bitterness in Bayard’s voice. “Is that wise, little Jana? There’s a quote from somewhere—I don’t know where exactly—that speaks of the ‘long eternity of regret.’ Have you thought of that? No, probably not. Don’t mind me. I’m probably transferring some of my own frustration to you.” He paused. “You don’t have a clue as to what I mean, do you?”

  Before Jana could comment, t
he piano music inside stopped abruptly. Edith’s impatient voice reached them, saying, “Oh, that’s enough, Papa. Our guests’ polite patience has been taxed enough with my playing. After all, I’m not a concert artist!”

  A few minutes after that, their mingled voices and laughter floating ahead of them, the rest of the group joined them on the lanai.

  Later Jana wondered how her strange conversation with Bayard would have gone if they hadn’t been interrupted. Part of what Bayard had been saying touched her. She thought she understood, but she did not know how to express that understanding.

  After the others joined them on the lanai, Bayard became once again the genial host. Tom borrowed Edith’s ukulele, and the fellows regaled them with college songs. To everyone’s surprise, it was Edith who made the first move to end the evening. With an exaggerated yawn, she said, “I’m calling it a night. Tomorrow we go on a sunrise ride and picnic at the head of the valley, remember. Knowing Papa, he’ll have us up at dawn. Come on, Jana. Let’s tear ourselves away from this fine company.” Edith grabbed Jana’s hand and playfully dragged her toward the house. “Good night, gentlemen. See you all in the morning.”

  There were murmurs of protest, but finally the good nights were said and the girls left.

  The minute they were inside, Edith rushed Jana across the hallway, up the stairway, and down the corridor till they reached their rooms. There she clapped one hand across her mouth and burst into giggles.

  “Didn’t I tell you it would work?” she demanded. “I believe I’ve made a conquest in Tom! And Joel is certainly smitten with you,” she declared. “Oh, this is such fun! I didn’t realize how much fun it would be!”