She pushed the men aside, shouting, “Get away! Stop! You’ll hurt him!” She knelt beside the dolphin, sizing up his condition with a quick examination. She knocked a yapping dog back and ordered, “Keep those dogs away!”
Glancing up, she spied Reed just entering the growing ring of onlookers. “Reed, give me your shirt,” she demanded brusquely, holding out her hand. At his astonished look, she grew impatient. “Would you rather I used my dress?” she asked tersely.
Quickly he removed it, handing it to her. With sure hands, she dug a trench in the sand below the stranded animal. Wetting the shirt, she squeezed it out over the dolphin’s drying skin. After repeating this several times, she slid the shirt beneath the dolphin’s belly. Motioning for Reed to help, together they tugged at the shirt, ever so gently easing the dolphin toward the water. Kathleen crooned soothingly to the frightened beast.
When they had reached the water’s edge, Kathleen bade Reed to step aside. Putting her back into it, she gave a mighty tug on the shirt and the dolphin slid into the water as Kathleen splashed in on her backside. Recovering quickly, Kathleen wrapped the shirt around the dolphin’s middle, and clucking sympathetically to it, pulled the shock-stricken animal gently around in a huge circle in the water. Taking a handful of water, she cleared the sand from his airhole.
When they had circled about five times, the stunned dolphin suddenly gave a shake and lurched beneath the water, carrying Kathleen with him, shirt and all. The crowd waited anxiously, but Kathleen did not reappear. Nearing panic, Reed shook off his boots, preparing to dive in after her. Jean, who had also come to see what the disruption was about, put his hand on Reed’s shoulder and pointed out to the center of the bay where the Kat-Ann lay anchored. With barely a ripple, the dolphin surfaced, Kathleen clinging to his fin. Throwing her head back, she laughed merrily; it was a light tinkling sound that danced eerily across the water to the shore. Her bright hair had come loose from its coiffure, and swirled around her like a golden cape in the morning sunlight.
As the throng looked on, Kathleen grabbed hold of the Kat-Ann’s anchor chain and released the dolphin. It swam a distance from her, then turned and danced on its tail, chattering cheerfully at her. She laughed her tinkling laugh at him, and Reed shivered at the eerie sound it produced as it echoed over him. All watched spellbound as the dolphin returned and Kathleen reached for his fin. Together they frolicked in the bay, completely forgetting those on shore. Again they dived, and again everyone held his breath as they waited apprehensively. Moments later, just as Reed had again headed for the water, they surfaced so close to shore that Kathleen stood only chest deep. She murmured something to it, and the dolphin left her and headed out of the bay toward the entrance to the Gulf. About halfway he turned once more and danced on the top of the water, chattering excitedly as though beckoning to her.
Kathleen smiled and shook her head. “No, my friend. Not this time,” she said softly. “Perhaps another day.”
She waded to the shore, her wet, nearly transparent dress clinging tightly, revealing every lovely curve. She stopped before Reed, gave him a cursory glance, and said calmly, “You’ll get your feet wet standing around without your boots.” She walked on up the hill to the house, leaving Reed gaping after her, stunned, and old Dan and Dominique smiling wondrously.
“Come, old friend,” Jean said, laying his arm across Reed’s bare shoulders. “Your sea goddess has given you quite a shock, and I believe you are in need of a long, stiff drink.”
Handing his goblet to Jean to be refilled, Reed sighed, “Jean, I swear that little Irish minx is going to make a drunkard of me yet.”
“She’s a spectacular woman, Reed. Truly one of a kind,” Jean said.
“I still can’t believe I saw what I did today. Kathleen sporting in the bay with a dolphin as if it were a common everyday occurrence! My God, I must have been hallucinating!”
“If you were, so was I,” Eleanore spoke up, “and everyone else on the beach today.”
From the doorway Kathleen called. “Hello! Has anyone seen Dominique? He is supposed to teach me how to play poker today.” She had changed into a clean lilac gown and gathered her wet hair into a loose chignon at the back of her neck.
“He’ll be along soon, I suppose. I saw him earlier on the beach,”Jean told her.
“Oh. I guess I didn’t notice him.”
“Well everyone certainly noticed you,” Reed grumbled. “All of you.”
“Would you care to explain that comment?”
“My dear wife, you may as well have gone swimming nude for all your wet dress concealed!”
“And what was I supposed to do, let them harm that poor defenseless creature? Have you no heart, Reed?”
“I used to. It’s that thing you are always walking on,” he mumbled softly into his glass. Rising, he said aloud, “Thank you for the drink, Jean. I’d better go find a new shirt to put on. Mine rests on the bottom of the bay.” He glowered at Kathleen and left.
Kathleen frowned at Reed’s retreating back. “What is bothering him?” she asked no one in particular.
Jean waved her to a chair. “Sit down, Kathleen. Now might be a good chance for us to have a chat.” He poured her a tall glass of lemonade, and when she had settled back, he continued. “You must try to be patient with him, cherie. This business of marriage is new to him.”
Kathleen arched a delicate eyebrow at him. “Yes, but it is also new to me.”
Jean chuckled softly. “That does compound the problem. It takes a while to get used to each other’s ways. It will come in time.” He went on to tell her of his earlier life and of his wife and family, which he sorely missed. He spoke of Reed and how they had first met in New Orleans.
Soon he had Kathleen laughing over their hair-raising escapades. Little by little he drew her out, getting her to speak of herself. As he got to know her, Kathleen also became better acquainted with Jean, and through him saw a new side of Reed. Though she already liked Jean, the more she listened, the more she appreciated him. There was a soft-spoken aristocratic gentility about him that appealed to her, and she admitted to herself that he was an extremely handsome man. Still, he was an admitted privateer, just a sneeze away from being a pirate, and Kathleen could sense the steel beneath the velvet surface. When it came to business and commanding his men and ships she knew he could be ruthless. Jean could be your friend or your enemy, and if it were the latter he would show no mercy, give no quarter; yet she found herself admiring him more and more.
Likewise, Jean found himself drawn to more than Kathleen’s obvious beauty. Humor and intelligence sparkled from her large emerald eyes and added character to her faultless face. As much as he loved and admired Eleanore, he found himself envying Reed this fantastic woman. Intuitively he knew she was not telling him everything, that she was withholding vital information about herself, but it only served to make her more mysterious. Now he knew why Dominique was so enamored and Reed so befuddled. He found himself falling willingly under her magic spell, so softly spun he barely realized he was caught. The ruggedly handsome Jean Lafitte, terror of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea, was brought low by a woman he could only admire from afar, and he swore he would try to smooth the way for Kathleen and Reed and wish them all the happiness they could find.
A few days later, Kathleen needed some white thread and decided to walk down to the store. She was sorry she hadn’t waited, for Rosita came in just behind her. Kathleen stood aside as Rosita flounced up to the counter.
“I need a box of cigars, Jake. Reed’s special brand,” she emphasized, shooting a superior look in Kathleen’s direction. On her way out she said loudly, “It takes a real woman to know how to handle a man such as Reed. If you were nicer, skinny one, I might take pity on you and give you lessons.”
“Should I ever decide to become a whore, I might take you up on that, Rosita,” Kathleen shot back.
Reed was late again that evening. Kathleen awoke when he entered the bedroom. “Go back
to sleep, Kat,” he said softly.
“At least you’re sober tonight,” she decided as he undressed quietly in the dark and slipped into bed beside her.
“In spite of what you seem to believe, I do not make a habit of drinking myself into a stupor, my sweet. Besides, with Pierre laid up there is too much work to do and I will probably be working late quite often until we get caught up.”
“Just don’t wake me when you come in. I seem to require more sleep than you do, so I’d appreciate not being disturbed,” she grouched. As an afterthought she added, “I’m sorry about your shirt, Reed.”
“It’s okay, kitten.” He yawned sleepily. “Forget it.”
Without Reed’s company, each day seemed longer than the next. When Dominique could spare the time, he set about teaching her to play poker. Mornings usually found her in Jean’s garden sketching the statues, until she discovered Pierre’s bedroom overlooked the area. Twice she found him glaring from the window at her. The second time he shouted down, “I’ll get even with you for this, you witch. You’ll need eyes in the back of your head to escape me once I am well. Beware!” He drew a finger across his throat in a threatening gesture.
After that she avoided the garden and worked on her paintings at home.
Nearly every afternoon she and Eleanore strolled. The island was indescribably beautiful once one was used to the heat and the humidity. The swampy area to the north held the most beauty and the most peril, but if they avoided the marshy area frequented by alligators, snakes and insects, the two women had relatively little to fear. The large cat population Jean imported kept the rats and snakes to a minimum, and as long as the fresh sea breeze from the Gulf prevailed, the insects were no problem. It was during the occasional lull in the sea breeze, or when the northerly inland winds occurred, that the threat of disease and plague came to the fore. That, thank goodness, was rare.
The beauty of the island seemed to assault all the senses at once. The vibrant colors of the flowers and birds were stunning, and Kathleen swore she had never seen such spectacular sunsets. No perfume on earth could compete with the fragrance of the island, and the small animals, insects, and birds created a symphony of sound for any and all to hear. The constant gulf breeze that wafted the sounds and fragrances about the island was as warm and gentle as a lover’s caress, carrying with it the tang of the salty sea as well.
In the weeks Kathleen spent at Grande Terre, she came to love this tropical paradise. It seemed to her an island Eden, and to her mind should have been an island created especially for lovers instead of a pirate’s haven. If not for the presence of the fort and busy docks, those unfortunate slaves, and the pirates, Kathleen would have been content to stay there with Reed forever, locked away in their own private paradise on earth.
One day Kathleen and Eleanore walked by the slave compound and found Reed busy trying to group the slaves by skills they had learned. It was then that Kathleen discovered that Rosita usually took charge of the females, thus working hand in hand with Reed every day. She watched as Rosita approached Reed, hips swaying. He leaned his dark head down to hear her words, and she rubbed her leg along his thigh intimately. Amused by whatever she had said, he threw back his head and laughed heartily, then sent her on her way with a smack on her ample rear. She turned and flashed him a brilliant smile, then noticing Kathleen, she tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and walked triumphantly away.
Reed followed her look, studying Kathleen with an unreadable expression. She darted him a grim look, spun on her heel, and strode off muttering oaths that brought a grin to Eleanore’s startled face.
Another day the women came upon Reed and Rosita resting and lunching together under a shade tree. Rosita rose languidly, shook out her skirts, and flounced by Kathleen, saying, “I’ll take a strong man any day. You can keep your dolphins. Perhaps next time you can find a couple of hungry sharks to play with.”
“No, Rosita. I hate to disappoint you, but I have no fear of the sharks either. They would not harm me, I am sure.”
For an instant uncertainty reflected itself on Rosita’s face, then haughtiness replaced it. “Ha! It is easy to be brave on dry land!” she sneered.
Kathleen turned to find Rosita eyeing her strangely. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she snapped and walked away.
Arriving home earlier that evening, Reed found Kathleen, Dominique, Jean, and Eleanore playing poker in the library. Leaning against the doorframe, he commented acidly, “Well, what a cozy little scene we have here. Pierre must be recovering speedily to be left alone all evening.”
“Charles says his arm is mending nicely and he will keep it,” Eleanore said in her quiet voice.
“Pierre is well enough to be spouting threats at Kathleen from his window,” Dominique stated.
Reed swung toward Kathleen. “Is this true, Kat? When? Why haven’t you told me?”
“Oh, Reed, settle down. The man is in no position at present to do me harm, so forget it. I have quit going to Jean’s garden since then so as not to aggravate the situation.”
“What has he said?” he asked heatedly.
“Other than warning me to beware of him and indicating he would love to slit my throat, he has said nothing. As for why I haven’t told you, I haven’t seen you long enough to do so, dearest,” she said with venom in her voice.
Kathleen tossed down her cards. “Deal me out. I just can’t seem to concentrate on the game any longer.”
After the guests departed, she walked with Reed to the bedroom. She lit a lamp near the chair, and taking up a shirt, sat down to sew.
“What is that you are doing, Kat? Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“I want to finish this shirt for Dominique,” she said calmly. “He said he is whittling a surprise for me and I thought it would be nice to give him something in return.”
Reed threw up his arms in disgust. “This is just fine! My wife is sewing shirts for another man!” He strode across the room and stood over her. Gripping the arms of her chair, he leaned close to her face. “Just who are you married to wench, him or me?”
“I’m not so sure myself anymore,” she replied evenly, looking up at him. “I am legally wed to one and get most of my companionship from the other.”
“Damn!” he cursed. He said not a word more to her that night.
Kathleen and Eleanore stayed away from all the areas where they might encounter Reed or Rosita, trying to avoid another confrontation. They walked along the southern edge of the island along the Gulf beach, away from the docks, warehouses, and slave quarters. Still, as luck would have it, they chanced to meet them again. They were just coming up on a small grove of palms when Reed and Rosita emerged from the treeline. Rosita’s hair was streaming down in tangles, her blouse was unlaced revealing most of her plentiful breasts, and her clothes had a very rumpled look about them. All in all, she looked as if she had just pulled herself hastily together after a healthy romp in the bushes.
Reed stopped short when he saw Kathleen. Rosita sauntered by her and said, “He does not love you, you know. He loves me.”
“He is still married to me, Rosita, and there is nothing you can do about that,” Kathleen countered softly with a glare.
“I won’t have to. Pierre will see to you, and Reed will be mine alone when you are dead,” the other girl whispered viciously.
Kathleen stared at her and then at Reed who was approaching her now. As Reed neared, Rosita gave him a parting smile and went her way.
“That’s it, Reed! This is intolerable!” Kathleen exploded. “Is there no place on this island where I can walk without running into you and that dirty little slut?”
“We work together, Kathleen.”
“Yes, and it appears you play together, too. The least you could do is be discreet. I do not like having your cheap affairs flaunted in my face, especially before my friends.”
“Are you trying to dictate to me again, Kat? I told you before that it won’t work.” A nasty smile etche
d his lips.
“Obviously. Just leave me some pride, Reed. That’s little enough to ask. After all, I am your wife!” she answered tartly.
“It might serve to remind me if you started acting like one,” he barked back, blue eyes snapping. Turning his back to her, he stalked away.
That same afternoon, Kathleen again walked down to the little store. As she was about to enter, she noticed that Reed was standing at the counter, Rosita at his side. Quietly backing away, she peeked through the window. From there she watched Reed purchase a bright red blouse and hand it to the smiling Rosita. Rosita threw her arms about Reed’s neck and kissed him soundly on the lips.
Racing home, her skirts flying, Kathleen threw herself upon the bed and angrily cried herself senseless.
From then on Kathleen stayed home. She went for no more walks with Eleanore unless it was along the beach below the house. She spent her mornings painting or reading. She invited Eleanore in for lunch or tea, and sometimes they played cards or chess or just sat and sewed and chatted together. When Eleanore was busy, Kathleen would sometimes walk down to the beach and feed the fish and talk to the pelicans who came to beg tidbits. At these times she wished her dolphin friend would return, and often sat in the sand staring out to sea where she knew he had gone. She no longer went to Jean’s for dinner, but had Mae serve her alone on the patio. Dominique would stop by often in the evenings and visit for a time. They would talk and he would whittle while she sang softly and played her guitar for him. She was almost always asleep by the time Reed came home.
Once in a while Jean would visit and try to draw her out of her shell. They came to admire and respect one another, and in Jean, Kathleen found another ally of sorts. Jean had known Reed for many years, and in some ways knew him much better than she did, and Kathleen tried desperately to unravel the mystery of her husband through Jean.
Fire and Ice Page 12