Promise of Paradise

by Rosemary Hammond

  When their drinks arrived, he held up his glass. “Well, here’s to you, Mrs. Trent,” he said. “May you live long and prosper, as the saying goes, now that you’ve got your unfinished business taken care of.”

  She gave him a cool smile. “I think at this point, after all we’ve been through together, you might drop the Mrs. Trent. To tell you the truth, I’m getting a little tired of it.”

  He took a long swallow of his drink then smiled at her. “All right. Jessica. Or do they call you Jessie?”

  “Never!” she said with feeling. “At least,” she added, “not since school days. And I hated it then.”

  She took a healthy swallow of her own drink, then set the glass down carefully. “Speaking of names,” she said, “I’m curious about yours.”

  “Luke?” he asked. “It’s a common enough name. The apostle, you know.”

  “No, it’s the Fury part I’ve been wondering about. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

  He gave her a level look. “Perhaps not in your exalted circles, you mean, where everyone has more aristocratic names.”

  “Oh, stop it!” she said, frowning. “That kind of reverse snobbery is so stupid.”

  He opened his mouth, as though to deliver a sharp retort, but in the next instant his face softened, and he smiled. “You’re right.” He put his elbows on the small table and leaned toward her so that his face was only inches away from hers. “There’s something about you, Jessica, that brings out the worst in me. You’re so cool, so distant. Every time I see you I get this irresistible urge to ruffle your feathers.”

  The emerald eyes bored into hers so intently, flashing such fire, even in the darkened room, that there immediately popped into her mind a vision of just what he might do to ruffle her feathers, and she wasn’t all that sure she would object.

  Then she came to her senses and laughed. “Well, you do a pretty good job of it, I must say.” She took another sip of her drink, more slowly this time. “But the name. Is it English?”

  He shrugged. “Damned if I know. The nuns gave it to me at the orphanage. I was the proverbial baby left on their doorstep. Naturally they gave me an apostle’s name, and the Fury came later. They said it suited my character. I was an angry little devil.”

  His tone was light, even flippant, but Jessica could sense the hurt behind it, and her heart went out to him. Instinct told her, however, that the one thing this man would never tolerate was sympathy.

  “I can believe that,” she said lightly, “since I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of it.”

  “Yet you kept coming back for more,” he said, suddenly serious. “I admire that. What I had to tell you must have been a blow, but you took it on the chin like a real soldier.”

  She shrugged. “I’d expected something like that. It wasn’t really a surprise.” She reached for her bag and rose from her chair. “Now, I really must go.”

  “But you haven’t finished your drink.”

  “Yes, I have,” she said. “As much as I want. Thank you again, Luke. For everything. And good luck on your new assignment.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  JESSICA’S new apartment was tiny, just one room, really, with a foldaway bed, a kitchen alcove in one corner by the window and a small bath. In fact the whole thing would have fit nicely into her old bedroom at the Trent house, with room to spare.

  Still, it was hers, and at least it was clean. It was also located in the center of town, on a bus line to the Naval base, and within close walking distance of shops, so that she was able to turn in her expensive rental car.

  The furniture was shabby, but serviceable, and as she unpacked her belongings, she made a mental list of the things she’d need to set up house. There was still a sizable bank balance from Paul’s insurance, so no need to panic over money, but the days of free and easy spending, knowing someone else would pay the bills, were over.

  It was almost midnight by the time she finished getting her things put away, and she had a sudden urge to call Helen. The telephone seemed to be working, and since it was three hours earlier on the West Coast, she wouldn’t be getting her out of bed.

  Luckily it was Helen herself who answered. “Oh, Jessica,” she said in obvious relief. “I’ve been so worried about you. When are you coming home?”

  Jessica told her then about her plan to stay in Florida, her job at the base hospital, and as she did so, it occurred to her that it all sounded very unlike her, usually so docile, so willing to adapt to whatever was expected of her.

  ‘Well!’ Helen exclaimed when she’d finished. ”I must say, that’s a shocker. When did you decide all this?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just had an irresistible urge to try my wings in the world on my own.”

  “Well, I must say you don’t do things by halves, my girl. It doesn’t sound like much of a job, though.”

  “No, but if I work hard, who knows what it might lead to? The important thing is to take responsibility for myself for once.”

  “Well, more power to you, Jessica.” She paused for a moment. “Have you found out anything more about Paul’s death?”

  “Yes, finally. I’m afraid we were right. He had been drinking and he wasn’t alone.”

  “I see. Well, better to know the truth, I suppose.”

  “Yes.” She thought a moment. “Helen, was I a bad wife?”

  “Heavens no!” was the firm reply. “I loved that brother of mine, but he was without a doubt the world’s worst husband. You stuck it out with him longer than most women would have.”

  “I wonder if I shouldn’t at least have gone to his funeral.”

  “But my dear girl, you were flat on your back. You’d just lost your child. And Dr. Simpson would never have approved. Listen, Jessica, you’ve got. to put all that behind you. After all, your marriage to Paul was over long before he died. The best thing you can do now is get on with your life. Meet someone new. Marry again. Have the children you wanted so badly.”

  “Oh, there’s no rush about that. Anyway, I’ll keep you posted about my progress. And thanks, Helen, for everything.”

  Several times during those first few weeks on the job Jessica was ready to throw in the towel and call it quits. She’d never thought of herself as a stupid person, but she was so used to a more leisurely pace that the pressures of the working world wore her down.

  Everyone was in such a hurry! The cafeteria patrons were either so pressed for time they insisted on immediate service, or they didn’t have any cash and wanted to sign a tab for their bill—strictly forbidden—or had to have certain denominations in change, a seemingly endless stream of petty problems, and all of them had to be solved right now.

  Each night she dragged home with aching feet, shoulder muscles as tense as a board, and her head full of figures. After three weeks she was certain she’d either have to quit or get fired, and at that point she didn’t really care which.

  She made mistakes in giving change. She was too slow in her calculations. She totted up tabs wrong, and even managed to lose one whole day’s receipts. Granted she found them later under the cash drawer, but the whole experience unnerved her to the point of panic.

  Late one afternoon, during the usual pre-dinner lull, she looked up from her register to see Millie coming toward her, a grim look on her face, and her heart sank. This was it! Poor Millie had finally had enough and was going to give her walking papers. She couldn’t really blame her.

  “Jessica,” she said in her typical no-nonsense tone. “Would you mind changing your days and working weekends from now on? There’s always such a rush then.”

  Jessica was so surprised—and relieved—that she could only gawk at Millie, open-mouthed. “You mean you want me to stay?”

  “Of course I want you to stay. You’re doing a great job.”

  “I am?” She laughed with sheer relief. “Well, you could have fooled me. I thought I’d managed to mess up at every turn.”

  Millie shrugged. “Oh, you�
�ve made your share of mistakes. We all do it in the beginning. But you catch on quick, and what’s more, the customers like you. You have a nice way about you. That’s very important in restaurant work. People can put up with wrong change far more easily than. they can a sullen employee.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Jessica replied faintly. “But still a little surprised.”

  Millie gave her a wry smile. “As a matter of fact, so am I. To tell you the truth, kid, when you came waltzing in here that first day like the Queen of the May with your expensive clothes and your little note from the CO, I would have bet you wouldn’t last two days—a week, tops.”

  Jessica sighed. “I’m afraid I do have that effect on people.”

  “Well, you do have a certain air about you, you know, society girl gone slumming, never done a day’s work in your life. But I’ve got to hand it to you. You sure had me fooled. And I’m glad I was wrong. Keep up the good work.”

  High praise indeed, Jessica thought, from the hard-working and very efficient Millie, who was also a widow, with two small children to support. Then suddenly she heard a throat being cleared and saw that a customer was standing there waiting patiently.

  “Oh, Dr. Palmerston,” she said hastily. “I’m sorry. I must have been woolgathering.”

  “Never mind,” he replied. “I’m not on emergency call today, so for a change I have plenty of time.”

  As she reached for his money and check his palm covered hers for a moment more than was necessary, and when she glanced up at him, there seemed to be a warm, even personal look in his light blue eyes.

  She gave him a quick smile, made his change, thanked him, then watched him as he turned and walked away from her. She must have been mistaken. She hardly knew him, except as an occasional customer, but there was something oddly familiar about him.

  Then, when he stopped at the entrance to speak to Millie it dawned on her. He was very much like Paul, the same blond hair and slim build, even the same smooth rather aristocratic air.

  Suddenly he turned and came back to her. “Mrs. Trent,” he said. Then, in a lower voice, “Jessica. I wonder if you’d care to have dinner with me one night next week. I have Wednesday and Thursday off, if you’re free either night.”

  She hesitated a moment, debating. She had no friends in Pensacola, and now that she felt more secure about her job, perhaps it was about time she made some.

  “Why, yes,” she said. “I’d like that. Thursday would probably be better for me.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up. Around seven, shall we say?”

  “That’ll be fine,” she said, and gave him her address.

  When he was gone, Millie came strolling up to the desk, a broad grin on her face. “Well, my girl,” she said. “It looks as though you’ve made a conquest of the hospital’s prime catch.”

  “Oh, hardly that,” Jessica replied, laughing. “One dinner doesn’t count as a conquest. But how did you know?”

  Millie chuckled. “Just a wild guess. Especially after he gave me the third degree about you.”

  “Third degree?” Jessica said stiffly.

  “Don’t get upset,” Millie soothed. “He just wanted to know if you were married. A real gentleman, our Dr. Palmerston. Not into adultery, like so many of them around here. As I say, a prize catch. Comes from a wealthy family, too, I hear.”

  Jessica had the late shift that day, which ended at eight o’clock, after the dinner rush. The buses didn’t run quite so often after six, so she’d either have to run two blocks to her stop to make the next one on time or wait another half hour.

  As she hurried through the front door she saw a man walking up the steps toward her. It was already dark out, so it wasn’t until he reached the light burning at the top of the stairs and raised his head that she realized who he was.

  He looked up at her and for a moment they both stood stock still, staring and stared at. Then he came walking slowly toward her and stood directly in her path, a bemused smile on his face.

  “Well, as I live and breathe,” he drawled. “If it isn’t Jessica Trent! What in blazes are you doing here?”

  “Hello, Luke,” she said. “Believe it or not, I work here.”

  “Working!” he exclaimed, after a brief double-take. “Will wonders never cease! What brought that on?”

  “Oh, it’s a long story. But what are you doing here? I thought you were off to Paris, Japan, and all points east and west.”

  He shrugged. “I finished up the Paris job sooner than I expected, and the Japan problem has been delayed. They needed me here to finish up some paperwork, so here I am.”

  “Well, I’ve got to run,” she said, and started to move past him. “Or I’ll miss my bus. In fact,” she added, glancing down at her watch, “I probably already have.”

  “I’ll drive you home,” he rejoined immediately, and the next thing she knew he had taken her by the arm and was propelling her down the steps. “I’m on my way back to the motel myself.”

  Although Jessica didn’t quite like the way he simply took over, obviously a habit of his, she was so grateful she wouldn’t have to wait for the next bus that she followed along beside him.

  “Actually,” she said, when they were inside his car and he’d started the engine, “I don’t live at the Paradise anymore. I have an apartment in Pensacola.”

  He turned to her with a puzzled frown. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he commented briefly. “What brought that on?”

  “Simple economics,” she replied with a wry little smile.

  He cocked an incredulous eyebrow at her. “You? Senator Trent’s daughter-in-law?” He snorted loudly. “Don’t make me laugh!” Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re putting me on, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all. I needed a job. Commander Perkins helped me get one. And as it turns out, I’m pretty good at it.” She laughed. “Much to everyone’s amazement, I might add—including my own.”

  She had finally surprised him, she realized with a swift rush of satisfaction, actually left him speechless, and as they drove along in silence toward town, she watched him covertly.

  He drove as he did everything else, competently, with brisk authority, taking no chances, but clearly in command. His hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, one elbow propped against the open window, the warm breeze ruffling his dark hair slightly.

  He had a nice profile, in spite of the glowering forehead and firmly-set jaw. His nose was high-bridged, rather beaky, the cheekbones prominent, and she wondered about his parentage. He was heavily tanned, but the underlying olive cast to his complexion indicated Latin forebears, or perhaps, considering the nose and wide-set green eyes, a Slavic ancestry.

  She became so engrossed in her study of the interesting face that she didn’t realize she’d been staring at him until the car came to a sudden halt in front of her apartment, and she found herself gazing directly into his eyes.

  “Well?” he asked in an amused tone. “Do I pass?”

  Her glance faltered and she looked away in confusion. Then she raised her eyes again with a defiant lift of her head. Surely he must be as well aware of his compelling good looks as she was.

  “I haven’t decided,” she said in a flat voice, and reached for the door handle. “Thank you very much for driving me home.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” he put in hastily. “Don’t rush off like that. You still haven’t explained what you’re doing here.”

  She glanced back at him. “Yes, I have,” she replied.

  “Come on, now,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. “Aren’t you going to ask me up for a drink after I very nicely rescued you and gave you a ride home?”

  “No, I’m not,” she replied with a pleasant smile. “But thanks again for the lift.”

  “Well, then, how about having dinner with me?”

  She hesitated. There was no denying the man intrigued her, even attracted her in a rather primitive way. But he also frightened her a little. She sensed danger in him, and at t
his point in her life, just getting on her feet, making her own way for the first time, she couldn’t afford any complications. She’d only be letting herself in for trouble if she ever let this man get close to her.

  Finally she shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  He gave her a penetrating look. “You almost said yes, didn’t you?” He raised a hand. “Never mind. I know I’d never get a straight answer out of you. But let’s compromise. If you won’t invite me in, and won’t accept my very kind dinner invitation, at least come and have a drink with me.”

  “All right,” she agreed reluctantly.

  Surely, she told herself as she stepped out on the pavement, there could be no harm in one drink in neutral territory. She stood there waiting for him as he came around to join her, impressed once again by his pantherlike grace. He moved like a skilled athlete, well-controlled, but with instinctive ease.

  “I know a little place just around the corner,” he said, taking her lightly by the arm and walking on. “Not as elegant as what you’re used to, but quiet and not too crowded.”

  “I wish you’d stop referring to what I’m used to,” she said, annoyed. “Or what you think I’m used to. From the moment we first met you’ve been passing judgment on me, and you really don’t know anything about me.”

  “Ah, but I’m anxious to learn,” he rejoined instantly.

  She had no answer to that, and they walked along in silence. He still kept a firm grip on her arm, and the sensations aroused by the feel of that rather rough hand on her bare skin were unsettling, yet oddly pleasant.

  They soon came to a small unpretentious cafe, and he ushered her inside. The interior was quite dark, and it was very quiet, just the low murmur of largely masculine voices, and in the background the clink of glasses, the barely audible sound of soft music.

  Luke’s hands were on her shoulders now, guiding her toward a row of wooden booths at the back of the room. When he stopped at an empty booth his hands left her shoulders, and for a moment she felt a definite sense of loss.

  “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll go to the bar to get our drinks.” He grinned down at her. “That’s the way it’s done around here. What’ll it be? Another Tom Collins?”