ISLAND OF LOVE Read online

  Just then Ben himself appeared at the door. “Anne,” he called. “You’re right on time. Come on inside. I just made a pot of tea and managed to talk Carl out of some fresh-baked scones and seed cake.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I could use something hot right about now. I’d forgotten how cold it can get up here on the cliff.”

  He nodded. “It’s that west wind blowing off the straits. Come on. I have a fire going in the studio.”

  Inside, while Ben went into the kitchen to get the tea tray, Anne took off her jacket, scarf and gloves, and began to walk slowly around the large airy room, filled with north light, where Ben did his painting, examining the canvases stacked against the wall.

  Although he used to paint only rather pretty seaŹscapes or island scenes, these newer pictures were all of Victoria, in different styles and poses, as though he’d been trying to bring his dead wife back to life in his work.

  “Well?” he called from the doorway. “What do you think?”

  She turned around. “I’m not sure. They’re wonderful, of course, but so different from your old style.”

  “Yes.” He set the tray down on the table in front of the fire. “But an artist can only paint what he feels.” He gazed at the portrait on the easel. “She was so beautiful, inside as well as out, that it’s hard to capture her on canvas.”

  “Yes, I can imagine.”

  “But enough of that. Come and sit by the fire. I want to hear about what you’ve been doing all these years. It seems like only yesterday that you used to come around almost every day.”

  “I’m afraid I made a terrible pest of myself.”

  Ben gave her a warm smile. “Not at all. You know how fond of you Victoria and I always were. Almost like our own daughter.”

  “Oh, hardly that! I’m a little too old for that.”

  “Well, whatever. In any case you were like a breath of fresh air, and I’ve missed you. Now,” he said,

  leaning forward and filling her cup, “tell me all about this job of yours. Even up here in the hinterland we’ve read some of the articles you’ve written for your magazine. And very good ones they’ve been, too. You have a fine vivid style that makes for interesting reading.”

  Anne felt very much at home in the warm cozy room, with the fire blazing, the familiar smell of turŹpentine, drinking tea with Ben again, and as she basked in his warm praise of her work she knew she owed it to him to be honest about the interview right from the start. And that meant that she couldn’t lie to him or try to trick him. She had to tell him the truth right now and get it out of the way. She also owed it to Jerry to at least broach the subject.

  Then she realized he’d just asked her a question. “I’m sorry, Ben. What did you say?”

  “I was just wondering if you’ve come back here to stay. Or will you go back as soon as you’ve settled your father’s affairs?”

  “That all depends,” she said slowly. “Actually there’s another reason I came back.” She laughed nervously. “I have this slave-driving boss who wasn’t going to let me come at all unless I promised…” She shrugged. Ben was waiting, still smiling. “Well, acŹtually, unless I promised to try to get an interview with you,” she finished up all in a rush.

  Immediately the smile faded, his face creased into a frown, and she could feel him slipping away from her. “I never give interviews,” he said in a clipped tone. “You must know that.”

  “Yes, I do,” she assured him hurriedly. “And I told my boss that. But he insisted that I try.”

  “All right. You’ve tried. You can tell him the answer is no.” He stared into the fire for several seconds, his face impassive, but when he turned back to her his expression had softened. “Not even for you, Anne. It’s out of the question. I can only work in solitude, and I can’t bear prying questions about my methods, my inspiration, all that tedious artistic jargon. I’m an artist, not a personality to be put on display. Whatever the public needs to know about me they can find in my work.”

  “Yes, of course,” she murmured. “I understand.”

  He was frowning down at the cup in his big hand, apparently lost in thought, and didn’t speak for some time. Finally he raised his head again.

  “I don’t mean to sound harsh,” he said softly. “Especially to you, Anne. It’s just that I’ve made a hard-and-fast rule about interviews.” He smiled. “I think the last one I submitted to was several years ago, and I ended up breaking the poor man’s tape recorder. Had to replace it myself. All those blood-suckers really want is to pry into my private life, and I won’t have that.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Ben,” she said softly. “In fact, the fate of empires doesn’t hang on whether I do the interview or not. I only said I’d try so he’d give me the time off. I can always say you flatly refused. He can’t kill me, after all, and I’m quite sure he won’t fire me.”

  “Well, if it helps at all, you can tell him that I can’t think of anyone else I’d trust, but a rule broken is no rule at all. I hope you’ll understand.” He rose to his feet. “Now, how about another cup of tea? And you’ve got to try some of Carl’s seed cake.”

  She scrambled up out of her chair. “No. No thanks, Ben. I still have a lot to do at the house.” She laughed. “Dad left his papers in such a mess that it’ll take me two weeks to sort it all out. You know how he was. Never threw anything away, and hopeless about keeping his books straight.”

  She hurried to the door, where she threw the scarf over her head and slipped on her gloves. “Goodbye, Ben. And thanks again for the tea.”

  “Well, if you really must run off,” he said dubiously. He opened the door for her, then put a hand under her chin, tilting it up so that she had to face him. “No hard feelings, I hope,” he said. “About the interview.”

  She shook her head. “No. I understand. I knew it was a dumb idea, but I promised my boss I’d try.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’m sure we’ll see each other again before you leave. The Sorensons still hold an open house for the islanders every Friday night, and I sometimes drop in for a while. Maybe I’ll see you there and we can have a longer talk.”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  He walked with her as far as the edge of the gravel path. The sun had disappeared behind a black cloud, threatening rain again, and she stopped for a moment to tie her scarf around her head.

  Ben looked up at the darkening sky. “It looks as though there’s another storm coming. You’d better make a run for it before it starts coming down.”

  “Yes.” She turned to him once more. “Thanks again for everything, Ben, especially for being so understanding.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. “Thank you, Anne. You’ve brightened

  my day. I’ve been rather lonely here since Victoria died, and you’re like a breath of fresh air to me. I hope to see a lot of you while you’re here.”

  With a little wave, she started walking fast down the path to the road. The air seemed much colder after the warmth of the house, and the landscape that had seemed so pleasant and inviting just a few hours ago now appeared bleak, even vaguely threatening.

  As soon as she stepped inside the cold house, she shed her outdoor clothing and marched straight to her bedroom. What she needed was a good hot bath. She was not only soaked to the skin, but a throbbing pain had begun to settle behind her eyes.

  No wonder! First Jerry’s unexpected appearance, then the sticky scene with Ben about the interview. Nor had she really quite taken in yet the fact that her father was gone. She still kept expecting to see him out of the window or coming through the door.

  While the bath was running, she stripped off her wet clothes. When the tub was full, she sank into it, soaped herself thoroughly, then lay there in the slowly cooling water, gradually thawing out mentally and physically, until she actually began to feel almost human.

  Although the visit had been painful, it had been very good for her to return to the scene of her youthful “crime,” to
get that old episode with Ben out of the way for good. Somehow just being with him again had put it all in proportion for her, made her see it for what it really was—an adolescent outburst that had done no real harm.

  Except for her father’s reaction, that was. But even that now seemed more understandable. He had been hurting too, losing first his son, then his beloved wife,

  saddled with the responsibility of a troubled young girl. Her deepest regret now was that it was too late to make it up with him, that she hadn’t even tried.

  However, she was very relieved to get the question of the interview settled definitively. The next time she saw Jerry she’d just have to tell him the whole thing was off. He wouldn’t like it, but she would not let him bully her into bothering Ben with it again.

  As for his story about staying around to do some fishing, that was only a fairy tale. She should have realized it at the time. In the five years she’d known him she’d never even seen him eat a fish, much less catch one.

  When the water was cold she got up out of the tub and reached for a towel. As she dried off, shivering again in the icy room, she started to sneeze, and her headache seemed to be escalating into an insistent throbbing pain just behind her eyes. She definitely was coming down with something.

  After she’d put on her bathrobe and slippers, she hunted around in the medicine cabinet until she found an old bottle of cold capsules. Eyeing them dubiŹously, she carried them to the kitchen, where she deŹbated making another pot of tea. By now she was feeling so rocky that she decided to risk the cold capŹsules, and perhaps a warming drink.

  She rummaged around on the topmost cupboard shelf where her father used to keep his meager liquor supply until she came across a bottle of brandy. Not her favorite, but it would have to do. She poured some out in a glass, and on the basis that if a little was good, a lot was even better, choked down two of the capsules with it.

  There were still hot coals in the fireplace from the fire Jerry had built earlier. She got it going again with some crumpled-up newspaper, threw on some kinŹdling, and soon had a nice bright fire going. She curled up on the sofa in front of it, laid her head back, closed her eyes and waited for the medicine to take effect.

  The next thing she knew she was being shaken viŹolently, and a loud voice was ringing in her ears.

  “Anne! Are you all right? Wake up, Anne!”

  Blearily she forced her eyes open and raised them up to see Jerry leaning over her, his face white and drawn. His hand was still on her shoulder, shaking her. She sat bolt upright, then put her hands on her head and groaned at the excruciating pain that shot through it.

  “Will you please quit shaking me?” she pleaded. “The top of my head is about to come off.”

  When she could squeeze her eyes open again long enough to look up at him, his face swam before her. She blinked several times, trying to get him in better focus, without much luck. There was an awful drumming sound in her ears, and she shook her head cautiously, hoping to get rid of it, but it wouldn’t go away. With another piteous moan, she laid her head back and closed her eyes again.

  “You’re drunk!” he said disgustedly.

  She forced her head up at that and glared at him. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never been drunk in my life.” She tried to get some dignity in her voice, but her head was pounding so that she couldn’t even hear her words. She swallowed hard and made a valiant effort to speak more precisely. “It must be those pills I took.”

  He pointed at the bottle of brandy and the empty glass still sitting on the table in front of the sofa where she’d left them. “And I suppose that’s apple juice.” He sniffed. “Doesn’t smell much like it to me.”

  “Oh, I just had a few sips to wash down some cold capsules.” She looked up at him. “Why are you here anyway? I thought you were going to“

  She broke off when it dawned on her that his eyes had dropped and were now fixed on a point somewhat lower than her face. She glanced down to see that her robe was gaping wide open, revealing the scanty sheer nightgown underneath and a good portion of full cleavage.

  Hastily, she covered herself more securely. “How did you get in here?”

  “The door was unlocked, that’s how I got in. Don’t you know better than to?”

  “Oh, Jerry, please!” she cried. “Please don’t lecture me!” Her head felt a little better now, and when she looked up at him again he seemed to have stopped jumping around. “Now, will you please tell me what you’re doing here? It must be the middle of the night.”

  “I tried to call you, and when you didn’t answer I got worried.”

  She had to smile. “You?” she asked incredulously. “Worried about me?”

  “Not exactly,” he said smoothly. “Worried about my story is more like it. Then I come in here and find you passed out in front of an open fire, the place reeking of booze…”

  “Oh, stop it, please,” she moaned. “I already explained about that.” She pointed at the bottle of cold

  capsules, still sitting on the coffee table where she’d left them. “It was those pills.”

  He picked up the bottle, scanned the label, then set it back down and gave her a stern look. “It says right on the label not to take any liquor with them.”

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Does it?” He nodded. “Well, I just felt so rotten I didn’t even think to read the label. And I only had a mouthful of brandy.”

  He just stood there gazing sorrowfully at her, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “A clever girl like you.”

  She struggled to her feet and stood there for a moment, trying to get her balance, still hanging on to the back of the sofa. He reached out a hand to help her, but she shook him off angrily. When the room stopped spinning she tied her robe tighter and turned to him.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but that’s what I did, and now if you don’t mind I’d like to go to bed. Now that you’ve seen I’m all right, you can just take yourself back to the hotel.”

  His mouth started to twitch and his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement. “You certainly don’t look all right.”

  “Well, I am. And, as scintillating as your company is, I’d really rather be alone right now. So will you please leave?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  She gave him a suspicious look. “Why not?”

  “Well, Patrick needed the Land Rover, so he brought me out here and dropped me off. I don’t have any way back.”

  She pointed to the telephone in the hall. “Well, you can just call Patrick and ask him to come and get you.”

  “I don’t know if he can. It’s been pouring all evening, and that primitive road of yours was barely passable when we came.”

  She realized then that the awful drumming she couldn’t shake off was the sound of heavy rainfall coming down hard on the roof. Somehow, the whole thing was suddenly too much for her: the emotion-charged scene with Ben, whatever bug it was she’d caught, then, to top it all off, Jerry showing up out of the blue.

  The room began to swim and a terrible bitter taste rose up in her throat. She closed her eyes and reached out a hand to break the fall she knew was coming.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE next thing Anne knew, an arm was gripping her tightly around the waist, supporting her, easing her back on the sofa.

  “Put your head down between your legs,” she heard Jerry say in a low voice. “Come on, that’s a good girl.”

  She did as she was told, and although her head cleared as the blood rushed to it the nausea was only getting worse. Then she felt him pulling her to her feet. His arm came around her shoulders, holding her close to him, and she laid her head against his chest.

  “Open your eyes,” he said firmly, but gently. “Come on, now, we’re going to take a little walk. That’s right. One foot in front of the other. That’s the way.”

  He walked her slowly but inexorably, never loosening his grip on her, over to the window. With h
is free hand he pulled the curtain aside and raised the bottom sash. She gasped as a swift rush of cold damp air blew across her face. She started sucking in great breaths of it, and in a few minutes began to think she just might live.

  “Better?” he asked softly.

  She turned to look up at him and gave him a weak smile. “Much better, thanks.”

  He started leading her back to the sofa. “Just sit down and try to relax. Put your head back. That’s right. You’ll be okay now.” He started walking away.

  “Where are you going?” she called.

  “Just going to make some coffee. Don’t go away.”

  She must have dozed off then because when she blinked her eyes open again there was a pot of coffee and two mugs and a plate of crackers on a tray on the table in front of her. Jerry was down on his haunches in front of the fire, tossing on another log. It blazed up, lighting his face, and a sudden rush of gratitude, even affection, rose up in her at the sight.

  Although it had been embarrassing to be caught like that in such a state and he’d had some fun at her expense, he had handled the situation perfectly. The fleeting thought crossed her mind that he was probably used to dealing with problem women, with that long string of blondes behind him.

  He rose to his feet then, and came to sit beside her. “Feeling better?” he asked with a smile.

  She nodded. “Yes, much.”

  It was true, and as she watched him pour out two steaming mugs of coffee, his large hands steady and sure, it suddenly seemed very important to her that his good opinion of her hadn’t been damaged by what he’d seen tonight. She glanced over at him.

  “Jerry, you do believe me, don’t you? I mean, about the pills. I admit it was a stupid thing to do, mixing them with the brandy, but I really wasn’t drunk.”

  “I know that. Here,” he said, handing her a mug. “Drink this. The caffeine should neutralize both the pills and the brandy.” He picked up the brandy bottle and examined it. “Next time choose a better brand. This cheap stuff will give you trouble every time.” He set the bottle down and grinned at her. “In fact, you’ll probably have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”