Pot of gold : a novel

by Michael, Judith

  In his sitting room, Quentin sat at the desk and called the hotel in Valdez and asked for Brix. "Sit down," he said to Claire, who was standing in the middle of the room.

  "I want to talk to Emma," she said.

  "Hi, Dad," Brix said, from Valdez. His voice had a quaver and he spoke loudly to try' to mask it. "I'm sorn,-, I kind of fucked up—"

  "What the hell are you up to.''" Quentin demanded.

  "Nothing, Dad, we missed the boat, that's all. I don't know how it happened; we were at dinner and I guess we lost track of the time. It's not a big deal, though; we'll get a plane tomorrow morning and catch up with vou in Anchorage."

  "How.?"

  "I'll take care of it. Dad. Either a plane or a helicopter. They're all over the place; that's how people get around. Enough money, somebody'll fly us to Anchorage. It's only about a hun-

  dred miles; I checked. It's no problem, Dad, don't worry- about us."

  "You're responsible for that young woman. Do you understand that.'"'

  "Christ, Dad, of course I do. She's fine. Everything's fine. You don't have to worry. We'll meet you at the airport tomorrow."

  "I'll expect you early. I don't intend to miss my flight home because of you. Is that clear.^ You get in to Anchorage before nine."

  "Dad, listen, I'll get us there as soon as—"

  "Before nine. That's not an option. Where is Emma.'*"

  "In her room."

  Quentin's eyebrows rose. He started to say something, then checked himself. He looked at Claire. "Emma is in her own room; shall I have the operator ring her.'"'

  Claire met his eyes. "Yes, thank you." She took the telephone Quentin handed her and sat at his desk, listening to the repeated ringing in Emma's room.

  "Hi, did it ring a long time.'*" Emma said. "I was in the shower."

  Claire listened to her daughter's voice, slow, sensual, a little sleepy. It was a voice for a lover. She barely recognized it. "Emma," she said.

  ''Mother? Oh, you got our message. I was going to call you as soon as I got out of the shower. I couldn't talk to you earlier because Brix didn't want to talk to his father so he just left a message for both of you. But at least you knew where I was."

  Don t scold her; this isn't the time. "You had us worried," Claire said, trying to keep her voice light.

  "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I knew you'd be worried. I'm really sorry. I don't know what happened; we were at that Totem Inn place—there was a fire in the fireplace and it was so warm and cozy and we were starved, and cold, too, after being out on the raft, and one minute it was seven-thirry- and then all of a sudden it was after nine. It wasn't Brix's fault, you can't blame him; it was just an accident. Brix says we'll meet you in Anchorage tomorrow; he's taking care of everything. I'm really sorry, I know how much you worry, but I'm fine; there's nothing to worry about. We were just late getting back and the ship was gone. I mean, we could see it—isn't it absolutely unbelievable the way the sun stays up so

  long? I mean, it was after nine and it was like noon—so we saw you sailing off, but there wasn't anything we could do about it. We knew the captain wouldn't turn around and come back for us. I was really worried until Brix said he could get a plane or a helicopter and we'd meet you tomorrow. So everything is fine, and I'm fine, and there isn't anything to worry about. I'm sorry you were worried, but we didn't mean for it to happen, and anyway, it's not a tragedy, you know. It could happen to anybody. It probably happens a lot."

  Five hundred and ninety-eight other people got back on time, Claire thought, but she kept it to herself. She was listening to Emma's nervous babbling and wondering what secrets Emma had to guard. She wanted to know if Emma's door was locked and if it would stay locked. But there was no way she could ask her that.

  "I'll be waiting at the airport tomorrow," she said. "I'm glad you're fine. Good night, sweetheart."

  Quentin was at the bar. "A glass of wine.'' Or something stronger.-^"

  "Wine, thank you."

  He poured Scotch for himself and brought her a glass of wine, then sat on the couch. "I'm glad to see you; I've missed being with you."

  Claire was not listening. "Would Brix have planned anything like this.^"

  "He might. But only if he was with a willing girl. Would Emma go along.'"'

  "I don't think so. Emma likes her own way, but she's not particularly adventurous. I don't think she'd do anything like this. Will Brix get them to Anchorage in the morning.'"'

  "Yes. I'd bet on that. Is Emma's mother adventurous.'"'

  Claire looked at him for a long moment. "I don't know."

  "We could find out." He went to her and took her hand, bringing her out of the chair to stand with him. "I've thought about you this whole trip, Claire; I've missed you. I told you once you're a lovely woman and a wise one and you walked away from me, so I'm not sure what you want to hear." His face was close to hers and (Claire tried to fathom what was in his eyes, but they were as smooth and glasslike as the water in Glacier Bay, mirroring her image, giving nothing back. "So lovely," he murmured.

  and he took her face benveen his hands and kissed her, his mouth opening hers.

  This time his kiss was warm, with an urgency that had not been there before. Old hungers stirred within Claire. She put her arms around Quentin, and he pulled her to him, one hand on her breast, his tongue insistent on hers. Claire was dizzy with wanting him. It was a long time since she had been with a man, but there was more to it than that; she wanted Quentin, with all his complexities, all that she could not understand about him, even all that she did not like about him. She was drawn to him just as his friends were, and she had not realized how aroused she had been when she was with him, and how bereft she had felt when he ignored her for the rest of the week. AH the time she thought she had been concentrating on the wild grandeur of Alaska, it seemed she had been wanting him, keyed up, on edge, ready for him. And he knew it; his kiss was confident, even in its passion.

  And that's why he stayed away for four days; that's how he operates with insecure women. He makes them hungry for him before he makes a move.

  She slipped out of his embrace and backed up until she was against the desk. She wanted to be in bed with him so much that she was trembling, but she was angry, too, and she knew, through the turmoil of her desire, that if he set this first pattern, all those that followed would be made by him and she might not like them any better than she liked this one.

  "Now what the hell." Quentin was annoyed, more puzzled than angr% and Claire knew, with a sudden flash of delight, that he did not understand her and that it bothered him that he did not.

  "I don't believe in shipboard romances," she said. "They make nice fairy tales, but it's really impossible to figure out what's true and important when everything around you is artificial." Thank you, Hannah, she said silently. "That's one of the reasons I'm worried about Emma."

  There was a silence. Quentin went to the bar and made himself another drink. "More wine.^" he asked.

  "No, thank you."

  Once again he sat on the couch. He stretched his arms to either side along the back of the couch and stretched out his legs.

  crossed at the ankles. He was relaxed, but he dominated the room with his size and the force of his energy. "What's true and important about us, Claire, is that we like each other, we're attracted to each other, and we want each other. And if you are even slightly adventurous, there are no impediments to our doing whatever we want to do. What could be more important.'' What other truths do you need.^"

  "I'd like to know how much the glaciers have to do with it," Claire said lightly.

  "The glaciers," he repeated.

  His flat voice made her feel foolish, but she had gone this far and so she went on, wanting him to understand. "This is so new for me, everything about this trip, that I can't make sense of it all at once. Maybe that means I'm not adventurous, but maybe it's just that I don't know whether all this incredible beauty has spilled over and made us seem more beautiful or
exciting or desirable to each other than we really are."

  "Does Ina look beautiful to you after you look at glaciers all day.?"

  She smiled. "No."

  "Does Zeke seem desirable.?"

  A laugh broke from her. "No."

  "But I do."

  "Yes."

  "Well, that's honest. So something else is going on."

  "I guess. I guess it's just me. There's a lot I don't understand about myself right now. And I guess I think it would be better to wait until I know what's important and what isn't."

  He let out his breath in a long sigh. "If you don't know what's important, let me decide. If this is really so new to you—you haven't traveled.? At all.?"

  "No."

  "Incredible, these days; everyone travels. Well, so you've lived in one small town all your life and raised your daughter, and I suppose you read a lot of books. You don't know a damn thing about the world; how can you know anything about yourself, or what you could be with me.? You could come with me, wherever I take you, and discover a world you've never imagined and become a woman you've never dreamed of. Even with all your money you can't do it by yourself. One of us is going to have to

  take control of our friendship, Claire, and it can't be you because you don't know how. I think you do know that."

  Of course I know it. I just dont know how to deal with it.

  "I just have to think about it," she said, wishing she sounded stronger and more sure of herself.

  "And if you miss the chance, with me.^"

  She looked at him steadily. "Then I'll never know."

  "You may not." He went to the door and opened it. "Good night, Claire."

  Her anger rose again. Without a word she walked past him and down the corridor to cross to the other side of the ship, and her cabin. Damn it, she thought, what was I afraid of.^ Why can't I be lighter about things, less serious; why can't I let go and just have a good time.^ You should always want more out of life, Claire; why are you in such a hurry to declare yourself satisfied?

  Well, I'm not satisfied, she answered Hannah in silence as she went into her cabin. And I don't know when I will be, at this rate. She looked at the closed door leading to Emma's cabin. Maybe I did what I did because that was what I was hoping Emma was doing. Maybe I'll ask her tomorrow. 1 stayed out of Quentins bed; did you stay out of his sons?

  "Mother called," Emma said when she opened her door and Brix came into her room.

  "So did my dad." He put his arms around her. "Everything's fine. I found a pilot; he's picking us up at seven. God, I missed you. I haven't seen you for two hours." Emma put her face up, like a child, and he kissed her. "You're so beautiful. What's that thing you're wearing.^"

  "The bedspread. I took a shower and washed out some of my clothes and they're drying."

  "Oh." He looked down at himself. "I guess I'm not presentable."

  She laughed, loving the worried frown between his eyes, the sheepish sound of his voice. "Of course you are. We're not going out, are we.^"

  "Christ, no, I want to stay here. But I want to impress you."

  "You do," Emma said, her voice low.

  "Good." He pulled her close again. "God, you are so beautiful. My most beautiful baby doll."

  Emma felt a jolt. She wasn't a baby, or a doll. And she wasn't his. But his arms were strong around her and she felt warm and safe in them, and he was kissing her with little kisses all over her face, and she closed her eyes, feeling as if she were dissolving, as if she had become a small, clear stream merging with the powerful river that was Brix, Because Brix loved her. Brix took care of her when they were stranded in a strange town. Nothing else was important.

  Brix put his hand inside the spread Emma had wrapped around her and began to push it open. Without thinking, Emma's hands came up and covered his, stopping him. "Hey," he said softly. "This is me, Brix, remember.'"'

  Emma looked at him.

  "Listen, doll, how many times does something like this happen.'' It was meant to be, right.'' The two of us at the end of the world, all alone. It's just us, all by ourselves. We can't let it be like every other night." When Emma was silent, he frowned at her. "What is it.'' Your mother.'' Did she say something on the phone.'' Like, 'Don't let him take advantage of you.^' God, take advantage. That's old-fashioned enough for my dad. Did she say something like that.''"

  "No," Emma whispered.

  "But she was thinking it, right.'' And you knew it. And you want to be just like her."

  "Oh, no, that's not—"

  "What.?"

  "I don't want to be like her. I mean, she's wonderful, but she's shy and doesn't do very much; she doesn't look for new things to do. I always wanted to be different, but I didn't know exactly how. I mean, I kept thinking, I want, I want, but I didn't know what I meant . . ."

  Brix ran his fingers down her face and neck and kissed her lightly. "You're not like her at all. You're an exciting woman. And you're not afraid of anything."

  Emma knew that was not true. But she wanted it to be true. She wanted Brix to think it was true. And he had called her a woman, not a baby doll, so she had to act like one and talk like one. She looked at him, trsing to think of something to say.

  "I'll help," he said. "You're not afraid, but maybe you need help sometimes. Right.''"

  Emma let out her breath. Brix always said the right thing. "Yes," she said. "I'd like that."

  "Well, just follow along," he crooned. "And relax." Once again he slipped his hands into the opening in the spread. This time she did not stop him and he pushed the fabric off her shoulders, to the floor. Emma tried to stop herself but she could not: she folded her arms across her breasts. "No, you don't," Brix said cheerfully. He took her hands and held them wide. "Look at you, look at you, what a bod. You are a gorgeous woman."

  Emma's face was flaming. "Don't," she whispered.

  "Don't what.'*" Brix stared at her. "Emma, for Christ's sake, hasn't anybody ever looked at you.^"

  She shook her head.

  "Christ," he muttered. "What have I got here.'^ I must be living right." He held Emma's hands outstretched, and then, without warning, he leaned down and kissed one nipple and then the other, and ran his tongue over them, slowly, like a cat in a warm and sunlit place.

  Emma gave a low moan. She was dizzy, she was embarrassed, she was afraid, but somehow she was excited, too; her body seemed completely separate from her mind. She didn't like standing naked before Brix, but after the first shock, it was not really terrible; she did not like his holding her hands out so that she was helpless, but she liked his strength; and she loved the look in his eyes before he bent down to kiss her breasts. I have a good body. Brix said so. He likes to look at me. He has so much experience; if he says Vm gorgeous, I must be.

  Brix let go of Emma's hands and swiftly pulled off his clothes. Emma looked away. She was wet and heavy and terrified.

  Brix took her in his arms, and she felt the warmth of skin on skin, the hard ridges of his muscles, the curves of hip and stomach against hers. It felt so good she pressed closer, crushing her nipples against the black, curly hair on his chest. "That's my baby," he said hoarsely. He put his hands on her buttocks, kneading them as he pulled her even tighter. "My beautiful baby doll."

  Emma felt his hot, rigid penis against her wetness and she tried to pull away, but Brix kept her close. He kissed her again, holding her mouth open until she gasped for breath, and then he turned her and pulled her with him onto the bed.

  Emma closed her eyes. She didn't especially want to do this,

  but she didn't want to make Brix angry and she didn't want him to think she was a child. She wanted him to call her a woman again. He could do whatever he wanted and it would be all right, because he knew so much more than she did and he loved her and she loved him, and this was part of being in love. If she pulled away now, he'd think she didn't love him.

  She heard a small rustling sound and opened her eyes. Brix was sitting beside her, opening a small package. Oh, she
thought; I forgot. But Brix always knows what to do. She closed her eyes again and waited for him and then she felt him spreading her legs and running his hands up the inside of her thighs. "Gorgeous doll," he said again, and lay on her. Emma sighed with pleasure at the warm, heavy weight of him, and Brix, thinking she had sighed from passion, raised himself up and plunged into her.

  Emma gave a sharp scream, then bit it back, ashamed and afraid he would be angry. But he was not angry. He lifted his head and looked at the tears in her eyes. "This is incredible, you know that.'* I've never had a virgin. God, Emma, you're such a doll,"

  He bent down and sucked on her nipples, biting them and playing his tongue against them. But this time, Emma barely was aware of his mouth. She felt as if a fiery poker were tearing her apart, and her breasts hurt when he lay on her again. She wanted to curl up into a little ball, with her face in the pillow, but Brix kept her stretched out and she could not move. Then she thought she had to do something to make Brix happy, and so she tried to raise her hips to meet him, but he was too heavy, and moving made the pain worse.

  "It's okay," Brix muttered. "Relax, baby doll. I'll take care of everything."

  Emma squeezed back the tears in her eyes and put her arms around Brix, digging her fingertips into him, hoping he would think that was passion. "Brix," she said, so that he would remember this was something they were doing together. "I love you." Her voice was high and quavering and it seemed to come from a long way off. Brix moved faster inside her; his breathing was loud, and sometimes it sounded like a grunt. "Oh. (jod, you are so good," he said. "So good, so good, so good, so good. I could stay here forever. So fucking good."

  The word was like a thorn, pricking through Emma's pain, but it vanished because it meant that Brix was happy. Brix said she

  was good, Brix wanted to be with her forever. "I love you," she said again; it sounded to her almost like a sob.