“Humor me, okay?” she said softly.
His lips relaxed slowly into the trace of a smile.
“Okay,” he said.
They sat in companionable silence for another fifteen minutes. Toward the end of the wait, Ann got up from her seat and purchased a can of orange juice from a nearby vending machine. She took a sip and then handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he said.
“An atomic bomb,” she answered.
He shot her a sidelong glance.
“Juice to help your system replenish the blood you’ve lost,” Ann said.
“Another souvenir of your first-aid course?” he said.
“Haven’t you ever donated blood?” Ann asked. “They always give you juice and cookies.”
“Good works are not high on my list of activities,” he replied dryly. “So, where are my cookies?”
“I’m working under makeshift conditions here. Juice is the best I can do.”
An emergency room nurse in surgical greens came through the admitting door and called Heath’s name.
“Courage!” Ann whispered as he got up, and he looked back at her, obviously suppressing a grin.
When he returned a short time later, he had four stitches in his hand and a prescription for antibiotics. He didn’t volunteer what he had done about the bill and Ann didn’t ask.
“Thanks a lot for your help,” he said, grimacing down at the bandage on his palm. “I can get home from here.”
“I’ll drive you.”
He stared at her.
“Don’t give me an argument, Heath. You have no transportation and I’m standing right here with a fully functioning car waiting outside that entrance.”
He shrugged and followed her through the glass doors to the parking lot. They got into the car and he sat with his long legs stretched out, speaking only to give her directions. When he told her to stop, she looked around in bewilderment. They were at an intersection with railroad tracks on one side and a series of bars on the other.
“There are no houses here,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“But where is yours?”
“I can walk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drop you off at the door.”
He was already out of the car. He leaned back in through his open window and said, “Thanks for what you did, Princess. I really do appreciate it.”
Ann watched in amazement as he walked off down the street. Short of chasing him down with the car, she had to let him go.
He obviously didn’t want her to see where he lived.
Ann made a U-turn in the middle of the street and went back the way she had come.
* * * *
Luisa was waiting for Ann in the front hall of the Talbot house when she returned.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“Of course I’m all right, Luisa. What’s the matter with you? I took Heath to the hospital, they stitched up his hand, and I drove him home. End of story.”
“You drove him home?”
“Well, to the intersection at Railroad Avenue. He wouldn’t let me go any farther. Where does he live, anyway?”
“Never mind about that, just sit down and eat your lunch. I’ve reheated the soup.”
“I don’t want any lunch, Luisa. I want you to tell me why you’re so twitchy about that guy. Did he just bust out of the county jail or something?”
“Your father would not consider him suitable company,” Luisa said expressionlessly.
“Why, because he lives in Hispaniola? So do you.”
“All poor people are not the same,” Luisa said firmly. “My family may not have much money, but we are always respectable. We work hard, we take care of our children, and we don’t accept welfare.” Her tone was disdainful.
“And Heath’s family?”
Luisa set a bowl of soup on the kitchen table and pointed to a chair. “Sit,” she said.
Ann sat. “If I eat my porridge like a good little bear, will you tell me?”
“It’s none of your business. Why are you so interested in that boy’s background?”
“I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“You’re curious about too much that doesn’t concern you, young lady.”
“That’s because nobody ever tells me anything.” Ann lifted a spoonful of steaming vegetable soup to her mouth and swallowed it ostentatiously. “It’s too hot for soup, anyway, whose idea was this?” she said peevishly.
“Your mother wants you to have a balanced diet.”
“She’s probably eating potato chips and onion dip for lunch at the club,” Ann muttered. “With chocolate turtles for dessert.”
“Your mother is an adult.”
“So am I. In six months, anyway, according to the State of Florida.”
“Until then you’ll eat your soup.”
Ann peered over at the housekeeper, who was now folding dish towels. “What happened to the truck Heath left here earlier?” Ann asked. “I didn’t see it when I drove in just now.”
“I called the marina and they sent someone to pick it up,” Luisa replied.
Ann absorbed the information in silence. Luisa hadn’t wanted Heath to return for it.
“He’s going to come back to fix the engine on the speedboat,” Ann said. “He wasn’t done with it.”
“The two men who came here for the truck fixed the engine,” Luisa said shortly. “The job is finished.”
Ann dipped her spoon in and out of her soup thoughtfully. “If you dislike Heath so much, why were you fixing him a snack today, before he was hurt?”
“I don’t dislike him. You can’t blame a child for his parents,” Luisa replied cryptically, and stalked off to the linen closet with the stack of towels.
Ann pushed the soup bowl away and folded her arms on the table, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger thoughtfully.
One way or another, she was going to find out more about Heath Bodine.
* * * *
Amy Horton propped one leg up on a pillow and inspected her bare toenails. “What do you think, amiga mia? Papaya Passion or Suncoral Kiss?”
“Suncoral Kiss,” Ann replied, handing her friend the bottle of bright nail polish. She tiptoed to the door of her room and opened it a crack, making sure her parents were still having after-dinner coffee in the den. Then she turned back to Amy, who was sprawled on the double bed, carefully dabbing coral-colored goo onto the nail of her right big toe.
“Do you know a guy from the island, a couple of years older than us, named Bodine?” she asked Amy.
Amy’s brush stopped moving as she looked up suddenly and said, “Heath Bodine?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course I know him. He’s only the cutest guy on Lime Island. He graduated from Palm High with my I cousin Carol. She was crazy about him but he would never give her the time of day.”
“Amy, your cousin Carol is crazy about everybody—that doesn’t mean very much.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I met him today.”
“You met Heath Bodine?” Ann now had Amy’s undivided attention. “Where?”
“Right here. He came to fix my father’s boat and cut himself. I took him to the hospital.”
Amy put the bottle of polish aside and sat up eagerly. “Is he as gorgeous as Carol says? I’ve never seen him.”
“He’s pretty adorable,” Ann admitted. “What I can’t understand is why Luisa was trying to keep me away from him. She did everything but tie me to a chair.”
“Well, she’s from Hispaniola, too, she probably knows his story,” Amy replied.
“What is his story, for heaven’s sake? Luisa wouldn’t tell me a thing.”
“I think Carol said his father is a drunk and the mother abandoned the family. Before she left she was kind of... promiscuous, I guess. That’s what Carol says, anyway. I know his older sister was on drugs and went to Miami to work the streets to support her habit. She died
of an overdose a couple of years ago.”
“How awful,” Ann murmured.
“I know you don’t think Carol is a reliable source, but most of that is true. I’ve heard her parents talking about it.”
Carol’s parents represented the less affluent branch of the Horton family, which was why Carol had attended the local public high school with Heath and not Winfield Academy with Amy and Ann. Carol was currently staying up in North Carolina taking a summer course in journalism at Chapel Hill.
“I don’t like the look on your face, Talbot,” Amy added. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he say he would call you or anything?”
“No.”
“Did he act interested?”
“Not really. He kept trying to get rid of me, but still, there was a look in his eye.”
“That certainly clears it up,” Amy said dryly. “You do realize that if you go after this guy your father will have a stroke and a coronary at the same time. His idea of the perfect date for you is Alan Michael Witherspoon.” She picked up the bottle of polish again and resumed her task.
Ann made a retching sound and dropped into the chair by her bedroom window. “Alan Witherspoon still wears braces and has zits on the back of his neck.”
“His father has forty million dollars, and someday Alan will, too,” Amy replied sagely.
“He has the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes, the color of sherry, and these silky black hairs on the backs of his hands...” Ann said dreamily.
“Alan Witherspoon?” Amy inquired teasingly.
“No, dummy, Heath Bodine. And the longest eyelashes, and the sexiest smile.”
“I see you took a complete inventory. Look, you don’t have to convince me. Carol would have strolled stark naked down Prospect Boulevard if she thought it would make that guy give her a second glance. I’m just telling you that I can guess why Luisa was acting so weird. Your father probably didn’t know who the marina was going to send to your house, and when Luisa saw Heath she decided that it was her duty to discourage your attraction to him.” Amy daintily daubed a toenail, cleaning its edge with her pinkie.
“She didn’t know I was attracted to him.”
“From what I’ve heard, anyone with the appropriate estrogen levels would be attracted to him. Luisa isn’t stupid. She figured if you got a look at each other sparks might fly—and she was right.” Amy put the cap on the bottle of polish and set it on Ann’s dresser, then inspected her foot admiringly.
“Yeah, well, I’ll probably never see him again. The marina sent somebody else to finish the job on my father’s boat, and from Heath’s attitude I doubt if he’ll be inviting me over to his house for tea anytime soon.”
There was a knock at Ann’s door. It opened and Mrs. Talbot stuck her head into the room.
“Ice cream, ladies,” she said. “Come on out to the table if you want some.”
Both girls rose, Amy walking on her heels to protect the drying polish. Ann sent Amy a silencing glance.
“How did you do in the tennis round-robin today, Mrs. Talbot?” Amy asked innocently as they walked down the hall to the kitchen.
Chapter 4
The next morning Ann’s father was at his office, her mother was at a Daughters of the American Revolution meeting, and Luisa was at the market doing the grocery shopping. Ann was deep into the adventures of a Victorian Gothic heroine in the Yorkshire dales when the doorbell rang. Ann padded barefoot over to the front hall to answer it, saving her place in her book with her finger.
Heath Bodine stood on the front portico, Ann’s sweater in his hands.
“Hi,” he said. “Okay if I come in?”
Ann’s heart began to beat faster the moment she saw him. He was wearing tan chino pants with a crisp navy polo shirt that flattered his dark coloring. She stood aside and let him walk past her into the house.
“How’s your hand?” she asked.
“It’s all right. They did a good job sewing it up at the hospital, I guess.” He handed her the sweater, now spotless. “I brought this back for you.”
“You got the bloodstains out!” Ann said, marveling.
He smiled wryly. “I’ve been working at the marina for five years now. Stain removal is my life.”
Ann laughed.
“Would you like a cup of coffee or something? There’s nobody home but me,” Ann said, leading the way into the living room of the house.
“I know. I stayed across the street until I saw everybody else leave.”
Ann looked at him inquiringly.
“I wanted to talk to you alone.”
Ann waited, her mouth going dry.
“I guess Luisa told you all about me,” he said flatly, his gaze expectant.
Ann shook her head.
“Yeah, she got rid of the truck so I wouldn’t have to come back to your house. That’s why I’m here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t appreciate being driven away like a thief,” Heath said darkly.
“Luisa didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh, no?” he said, holding her eyes steadily with his own, his posture defiant.
Ann looked away from him.
“There’s another reason I came,” he added.
“Yes?” Ann said.
“It was a nice thing you did for me, and I know I wasn’t acting very grateful.”
“Don’t worry about it, I understand. You were in pain and worried about your hand...”
“That wasn’t it,” he said.
Ann stopped.
“People like you look down on people like me, and I didn’t want to be indebted to any snob.”
“I’m not a snob, Heath.”
“I realized that after I got home and thought about it. I guess I just reacted instinctively, and I’m sorry.”
He extended his hand, and she took it. His palm was callused and warm.
The telephone rang and they both jumped, as if caught in a stolen embrace.
“Just let me answer that,” Ann said hastily, “and I’ll be right back.”
When she got to the phone it was her father, calling from work. That was odd enough in itself to make her wonder what was going on. Henry Talbot’s business was his life, and when he left the house in the morning it was usually as if he had disappeared into a parallel universe until he returned in the evening.
“I just wanted to let you know that there’s a dance at the Heron Club this Friday night and Dan Witherspoon asked me if you and Alan Michael would like to attend,” Henry said.
Ann saw the fine hand of Luisa in this development. The housekeeper had obviously told Henry about the incident with Heath, and Henry’s response was to provide his daughter with what he considered a more appropriate alternative.
Ann’s grip tightened on the receiver. She had spent exactly two hours with Heath Bodine, most of it in an intensely romantic hospital emergency room, and her father was behaving as if she had been discovered in a motel bed with him.
“Mr. Witherspoon is now arranging Alan’s dates?” Ann said to her father.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Henry Talbot replied testily. “He just thought it would be a nice idea if we could all go together.”
“Well, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to disappoint Mr. Witherspoon. I have plans for Friday.”
“What are you doing?”
“Amy and I are going over to Big Palm Island for an Aerosmith concert.”
“Can’t you postpone that?”
“Dad, they’re playing one night before going on to Miami. We’ve had the tickets for three months.”
Henry sighed dramatically. “All right, we’ll arrange something for the future then.”
Over my cooling carcass, Ann thought. Aloud she asked, “Is that all, Daddy?”
“I suppose so. Tell your mother I’ll be home at seven-fifteen. Goodbye.”
“Bye.” Ann hung up the phone and walked back into the living room
to discover that Heath was gone.
* * * *
“What do you mean, he left?” Amy said as they drove over the causeway to Big Palm on Friday night.
“Just what I said. I went into the kitchen to get the phone and when I came back he was gone.”
“That’s odd.”
“Not to mention rude.”
“I don’t think he was being rude,” Amy said thoughtfully, turning down the radio.
“What would you call it?”
“He probably had to work up his nerve to come and see you, and then when you left he felt uncertain about it. Maybe he thought you were trying to get rid of him.”
“He heard the phone ringing in the kitchen, Amy. It wasn’t a magic trick.”
“But you did stay talking on the phone for several minutes, right?”
“It was my father, Amy. You know what he’s like.”
“Heath doesn’t know that. He may have thought you seized the opportunity to escape.”
“That’s stupid, Amy, why would I do that? He was only returning my sweater.”
Amy turned to look at her in amazement. “You’re the one who’s stupid, Annie. He could have mailed the sweater to you. He wanted to see you again and the sweater was an excuse.”
“You really think so?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “You’ve spent too much time in an all-girls’ school, sweetie.”
“You’ve been going to the same school.”
“But I sneak out every weekend to drive to Far Hills Community College to party while you stay in our room and read Victoria Holt novels and watch old movies. Trust me, I know about these things. He’s hooked.”
“I’d like to see him again,” Ann said softly.
“Then do it,” Amy said firmly.
“What do you mean?”
“Tonight is the perfect opportunity. Your parents think you’re at the concert with me. I’ll drop you off at Jensen’s Marina.”
“I can’t do that!” Ann said, aghast.
“Why not?”
“It’s so... forward.”
“What is this, 1959? Is Donna Reed at your house, giving advice in a shirtwaist dress, high heels and pearls? You want him, go for it.”
“I don’t even know if he’s working tonight.”
“From what I hear he’s always there. I don’t think home is too much fun. But we can make sure. Let’s pull over and call him.”
Native Affairs Page 48