Promise of Paradise

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Promise of Paradise Page 11

by Rosemary Hammond


  “Luke!” she teased, smiling. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered, giving her a startled look. “I’m afraid I must have been woolgathering.”

  She hesitated a moment, waiting, but when he didn’t elaborate, she had to ask. “Is something wrong?”

  He shrugged. “No, not wrong exactly. It’s just that I’ve been offered a new job, and it’s one I really can’t afford to turn down.”

  She gave him her brightest smile and put a hand over his. “Why should that trouble you?” she asked. “It’s your work, after all.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the thought of leaving you.”

  “Well, how long will the job last? It can’t be forever. I’ll still be here when you get back. Where is it?”

  “Australia.”

  Australia! The other ends of the earth! She kept waiting for him to go on, but he only sat there without speaking for some time, his eyes downcast, scowling down at his half-eaten dinner. His hand felt cold in hers, and she had the distinct feeling that there was more to his black mood than the new job. She was just about to question him about it when he raised his eyes to hers again.

  “Jessica,” he said, his voice grave. Then he smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Jessica. Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

  That night his lovemaking was more passionate than it had ever been before, with a frantic quality in it that almost frightened her. There was no tenderness in the way he held her, kissed her, no whispered endearments, and in the end he possessed her roughly, his body falling heavily on hers.

  After he’d fallen asleep, his body turned away from hers, she lay there for a long time, wide-eyed and staring into the darkness, more convinced than ever that something was wrong. Finally, as she drifted off into a troubled sleep, she made up her mind that she’d have to confront him, and make him tell her what was bothering him.

  But in the morning he was his old self again, almost as though whatever problem he’d had on his mind had been settled during the night. Sitting across the breakfast table from him she thought he still looked a little worn, the little lines at the corners of his eyes more deeply etched, but the old sparkle that had been missing the night before was back in those green depths.

  “When will you be leaving?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m expecting a call from Sydney this morning.”

  He rose to his feet and came around the table to stand beside her chair. She looked up at him, wanting to reach out to him, to hold him, to keep him from going, but knowing he had to go, wanted to go, was even impatient to get started.

  He put a hand on her face and smiled down at her. “I’ll call you when I have more details.”

  She put her hand over his. “Yes. Please do. I don’t have to work today, so I’ll be right here most of the time.”

  His head dipped down, and his lips brushed lightly over hers, then came back to linger a little longer, almost as though he was already saying good-bye.

  “I’ll see you again before you have to leave, won’t I?” she asked in sudden alarm.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  As it turned out, she didn’t see him again after all. He called her around three o’clock to tell her he had to leave right away.

  “Oh, so soon?” she asked, stricken.

  “Afraid so. In fact my plane takes off in half an hour.”

  “I’ll get a taxi and come to see you off,” she said quickly.

  “No,” came the firm reply. Then he added in a softer tone, “Don’t do that. I’m hitching a ride on a Navy plane and leaving from the base. You know. There’ll be a lot of people around.”

  She was about to insist, to assure him it didn’t bother her who saw them together now, but something in his voice stopped her. “All right,” she said at last. “I see your point. But you will call me, won’t you, to let me know you’ve arrived safely?”

  “Oh, I’ll be in touch,” he said vaguely. “Now I really must get cracking. I haven’t even packed yet.”

  “Well, you travel light, don’t you?”

  He laughed. “That I do. Well, good-bye, then, Jess. Got to run now.”

  “Good-bye, Luke,” she said in a small voice, but the line had already gone dead.

  Slowly she hung up the receiver, then stood there for a long time staring down at it. It had all happened so fast, she couldn’t quite take it in yet. She felt so empty inside. There was no telling when she’d ever see him again.

  She gave herself a little shake. There was no point in moping around. She’d known it was going to happen, and he’d sounded so eager on the telephone. There was no mistaking the excitement in his voice, and she envied him the joy he found in his work.

  She knew that many women found that same kind of satisfaction in their own careers, but she wasn’t made that way. Love had come rather late to her, and totally unexpectedly, but it had taught her an important truth about herself, that her own fulfillment lay in loving, in a home of her own, a husband, perhaps in time children.

  Could Luke provide those things for her? Of course he could. But would he? All she could do was keep on loving him, trusting in the power of that love to guide her. She didn’t have any choice. He had become everything to her. Without him there was no life at all.

  After he was gone, the days passed with agonizing slowness. She existed only for the time when he would come back to her, and waited eagerly for some word from him.

  Every time the telephone rang she would snatch it up, her heart pounding in anticipation, certain it would be Luke. But it never was. She searched through her mail every evening, thinking surely he would have time just to send her a postcard. But she was always disappointed.

  She found herself searching through the apartment for some sign of him, some relic, anything, a ticket stub to a film they’d seen together, a stray article of clothing he might have left behind, some indication of his presence in her life.

  But there was nothing. He seemed to have vanished without a trace.

  She did have a few photographs, candid shots she’d snapped of him on the beach one day, now dog-eared and tattered from constant poring over them. In one she’d caught him by surprise. He was just coming out of the surf, his tall tanned body glistening in the sunlight, his waterlogged dark trunks hanging low on his lean hips.

  He was laughing into the camera, one arm raised to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun, the other held out, beckoning to her. The expression on his face was typically Luke, eyes flashing, chin raised, the set of his broad shoulders confident and self-assured.

  After she’d snapped the photo he’d come running over the sand toward her, scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the surf, then dumped her unceremoniously into the water. Staring down at it now, reliving that day when she’d been so carefree, so secure and confident in his love, it now seemed unreal, as though it had all happened to someone else, in another lifetime.

  Soon it was the middle of August. He’d been gone three weeks, and she hadn’t heard one word from him or even about him, and by now she was frantic. He could have been hurt, killed even, and she’d never know about it.

  Then one day as she was strolling around the hospital grounds on her lunch break she noticed a group of men standing at the door of Commander Perkins’ office. As she came nearer, her eyes flicked over them idly.

  Suddenly she stopped in her tracks and stared. One of the men was quite tall, towering over the others, and although his back was toward her, there was no mistaking that thick head of dark hair, that familiar confident stance. It had to be Luke.

  With a glad lift to her heart she started walking faster, hoping to catch them up, but by then they had already disappeared into the building. She stopped short, appalled at what she’d been about to do. In another second she would have made a complete fool of herself. It couldn’t possibly have been Luke. If he’d come back he would have called he
r.

  By now the long silence had begun to prey on her nerves so that she could hardly function on the job. She was making mistakes in her daily calculations, giving out the wrong change, curt with the customers. One day she even snapped at Millie when she’d asked her, very kindly, if something was wrong.

  “Why should anything be wrong?” she retorted.

  “Well, the way you’ve been dragging around the past few weeks I was sure at the very least you were coming down with some dread disease!” Millie shot right back. “Pardon me for being concerned!”

  She turned on her heel then and began to stalk off, but before she got far, Jessica had come around the desk and hurried after her, catching her by the arm.

  “Oh, Millie, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Millie turned around slowly, folded her arms across her narrow chest and gave Jessica a long penetrating look, still frowning. Then her face softened.

  “Sure,” she said with an offhand shrug. “It’s OK. Something is wrong, though, isn’t it?” Jessica merely nodded her head. “And,” Millie went on, “you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “No,” Jessica replied with a vigorous shake of her head.

  Millie sighed heavily “It’s got to be a man then,” she muttered. “And I think I know which one.” She held up a hand. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t push. But take my word for it, not one of them is worth this kind of grief.”

  She turned then and walked away. Jessica stared after her until she disappeared from view, wanting to believe she was wrong, but with the gnawing suspicion that she just might be right.

  Finally she decided she’d just have to put her pride in her pocket and go see Commander Perkins. He’d been very kind and helpful to her right from the start, and if anyone on the base would have any news of Luke, it would be him. At least she could satisfy herself that he was still alive.

  As luck would have it, the Commander himself showed up in the cafeteria the very next day. It was late in the afternoon, before the dinner rush, and the place was virtually empty. When he came in, he nodded and smiled at Jessica, at her post behind the cashier’s desk, then took a table over by the window and opened the large envelope he was carrying.

  Before one of the waitresses appeared to serve him, Jessica walked quickly over to his table. “Good afternoon, Commander,” she said with a smile.

  He half-rose out of his chair, then sat back down. “Why, hello, Mrs. Trent,” he said. “I didn’t know you waited on tables as part of your duties here.”

  “Oh, I don’t usually, but the waitresses are all busy in the kitchen right now. Can I get you something?”

  “No, thanks. I just wanted to get away from the office for a while to read this report.”

  “Do you mind if I sit down for a moment?”

  “No, of course not.” He folded his report and put it back in its envelope. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about your work here.”

  “Nothing wrong, I hope,” she said as she seated herself.

  “Oh, no. Quite the contrary. Millie tells me you’re doing a fine job. I’m just glad it’s worked out so well for all concerned. As I’m sure you must have gathered, neither of us were totally convinced it was a good idea.”

  “Well, I’m glad I didn’t disgrace you. I appreciated the chance very much.” She hesitated a moment, then cleared her throat. “Commander, do you recall that when I first came to Pensacola to look into Paul’s death, you sent a man named Luke Fury to me to fill me in on the details?”

  A look of alarm appeared in the mild brown eyes. “Oh, yes. I hope he didn’t upset you. Luke can be rather blunt.”

  “No, he didn’t upset me. In fact, he told me exactly what I wanted to know, and as far as I’m concerned that issue is settled.” She paused again. “I was just wondering what happened to him. I mean,” she went on hastily, “I haven’t seen him around the base for quite some time.”

  He waved a hand in the air. “Oh, Luke. He’s a rolling stone. You can’t pin him down. As far as I know he’s still in Chicago.”

  “Chicago!” she exclaimed. She recovered herself just in time and went on in a small voice. “I—I’d heard he was in Australia.”

  “Oh, that job was over some time ago.” He smiled and shook his head slowly from side to side. “The man flits around the globe the way other people go to the supermarket. In fact, he was right here in Pensacola briefly about a week ago, just for a flying visit. Then he took off again the next day.”

  So it had been Luke she’d seen that day, and a cold chill ran down her spine. “Really?” she said weakly at last.

  “He’s quite an amazing person, one of a kind.” He leaned toward her with a confidential air. “Has quite a reputation with the ladies, too.”

  “Yes,” she murmured weakly. “So I’ve hard.”

  “Then I’m sure you’ve heard all the gossip, too,” he went on in a lower voice.

  “Gossip?” she asked. She didn’t have the slightest idea what he meant, but her ears perked up immediately.

  He chuckled indulgently, even admiringly. “Oh, yes. A girl in every port, from what I hear. That could be why he was so anxious to leave. Couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

  By now Jessica had heard enough and had to call upon all her training in poise and proper behavior to keep from screaming out loud. Instead, she gave him a tight smile and rose to her feet.

  “Well, I guess some men are like that,” she commented. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to work.”

  She walked slowly back to her desk, holding herself stiffly, her shoulders rigid, her arms pressed to her sides, her head a whirl of powerfully conflicting emotion, and feeling chilled to the bone.

  Somehow she got through the rest of that day, and it wasn’t until she was in the safety of her own apartment that night, the door locked securely behind her, that she let go, throwing herself on the bed and releasing the terrible racking sobs she’d been bottling up ever since her talk with Commander Perkins.

  She still couldn’t quite take it in. The one fact that loomed above all else was that he had been back. It was Luke she’d seen that day on the hospital grounds. And he’d made no effort to contact her whatsoever.

  It was all over, she thought glumly. No, it had never been, actually. The whole episode had been a dream, a stupid adolescent fantasy she had concocted herself, with no substance behind it.

  As the full impact of Luke’s treachery sank in, her grief gradually turned to a simmering anger. It had all been an act with him, a well-rehearsed, practiced role he’d been playing. Perhaps he’d been intrigued by her aloof air, challenged by what he conceived as her aristocratic background. Then the minute she’d turned serious on him, he’d disappeared like a flash, with no explanation.

  And she’d fallen for it! By now she was so beside herself with a white-hot murderous rage that she could only pace up and down through each room of the tiny apartment, wringing her hands and muttering aloud. She couldn’t tell whether it was Luke she wanted to kill, or herself for being taken in by him.

  Now, of course, she saw traces of him everywhere. The small table in the kitchen where they’d had so many cozy meals, his favorite record still on the turntable in the living room, the bed they’d made love in. She even, to her horror, came upon a bar of his soap in the bathroom medicine cabinet.

  She flung it in the wastebasket. Then her eye fell on the candid photo of Luke on the beach, stuck in the mirror over the sink. She snatched it up and ripped it into tiny pieces, then threw them in the wastebasket, too.

  She turned on the cold water, bathed her face, and stared bleakly at her reflection in the mirror. She looked terrible, of course, but what did that matter now?

  Finally, exhausted, her anger spent, she dragged herself into the kitchen to make herself a pot of tea. Somehow she had to pick up the pieces of her life and go on. She had no one but herself to blame, and in a way, except for her own foolish expectations, she wasn’t even
sorry.

  Millie had been right after all, not only in her firm belief that Luke would never settle down, but that the experience might be worth it. He was the worst kind of rat, of course, a womanizer, a seducer, a trophy-hunter, an undependable Casanova. But he’d never actually deceived her. He’d been very careful to make no promises.

  She had been the worst kind of fool, given herself unreservedly to a man who had no conception of the meaning of love. And she couldn’t even blame him. He’d warned her right from the start he had no intention of settling down.

  She sat there at the table by the window staring out blankly until the tea grew cold and the sky dark, trying to decide what to do with herself. She would survive the loss of Luke, simply because she’d never actually possessed him. He’d seen to that.

  But there was another problem looming in the dark corners of her mind, one she’d done her best to ignore for the past several days. Now she’d have to face it.

  She was almost certain she was pregnant, carrying Luke’s child, and she hadn’t a clue what in the world she was going to do about it.

  The first thing, of course, was to confirm her suspicions, and the next morning she made an appointment with a doctor in town.

  She couldn’t use the facilities at the Naval base, even though she was entitled to them as an employee. Although doctors were sworn to guard their patients’ secrets, she couldn’t afford to take even the slightest chance.

  The woman doctor she chose was brisk but pleasant, and at the end of a thorough examination congratulated her warmly. “Well, Mrs. Trent, I’d say you could look forward to an easy pregnancy and safe birth, with a healthy baby at the end of it, next March, I’d say.”

 

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