Bride in Barbados (9 page)

Turning off the main street, they passed Trafalgar
Square, with Lord Nelson's statue at its center, and the Careenage, a
basin used mainly, Travis said, by the quaint and colorful interisland
schooners and motor vessels.

"Careenage." Susan repeated the word. "I've never heard
that term before. What does it mean?"

"It's French, from 'careened,' which means to tilt a ship
far enough over so that the bottom can be cleaned."

Soon they were in the countryside again and turning down a
drive crisscrossed with the long shadows of the palm trees bordering it
on both sides. From the little Travis had told her, Susan had expected
something large, but she was not prepared for the picture-book
graciousness of the old plantation house that sprawled ahead of them.
Its white walls were dazzling in the last of the day's sunlight; green
awnings and a red roof added bold touches. There was a circular section
at the center with rectangular wings extending on either side. The
large lawn in which the house sat was carpet smooth and meticulously
tended.

"Travis!" Susan gasped. "Why didn't you warn me that it
was so grand?"

He chuckled. "Words can't do it justice. But you'll soon
discover that it isn't as perfect as it looks. The plumbing is ancient,
for one thing. We'll have to have it replaced within the next year or
two, I'm afraid." He grimaced. "It'll cost a fortune. We're always
fighting to keep ahead of leaks in the roof, too, during the rainy
season. This roof's only five years old, but there are so many eaves
and angles that it's difficult to make it completely waterproof. The
furniture's old, and some of it was very inexpensive even when it was
new. Most of it's solidly built, though, and we'll replace it with
pieces that you want as we can afford it."

"Who cares about plumbing and roofs and furniture?" Susan
said. "It's beautiful and I love it."

He gave her a grateful look. "So do I," he said with a
note of earnestness in his voice.

They were greeted by a small, round-faced black woman whom
Travis introduced as Mala. Mala was accompanied by a younger version of
herself, who turned out to be her daughter, Amii.

Both women were frankly amazed to discover that their
employer had returned home with a wife. "How come you not tell me you
gettin' married?" Mala demanded in an aggrieved tone.

"There wasn't time," Travis said. "It happened too fast."

"This not like you," Mala commented, studying Susan with
an expression that clearly reserved judgment on what kind of wife she
would make. "You always rush, rush to work—but not with the
women."

"I'd better warn you," Travis said to Susan with a twinkle
in his eyes, "that Mala is the real boss around here, and she doesn't
like surprises much."

"Not two big ones all at once, for sure," Mala said.

"There's another one?" Travis inquired.

Mala nodded solemnly. "We got company. Your cousins from England show up early this mornin' and
say they wait for you."

"Curt and Violet?" All the lighthearted banter was gone
from Travis's voice suddenly. "Damnation! They couldn't have picked a
worse time for a visit. Where are they?"

"On the back veranda, las' I knew," Mala said, "drinking
up all our rum."

Grim-faced, Travis strode quickly toward the back of the
house. After looking questioningly at the closed faces of the two black
women, Susan followed him.

The impression she got in her hurried journey through the
house was one of large rooms and dark furniture, but she was too intent
on keeping Travis in sight to pay close attention.

She caught up with him in the kitchen and followed him
through an open door onto a wide veranda overlooking more well-tended
lawn. Two people sat in wrought-iron patio chairs with a small, round
table between them. There were several empty liquor glasses on the
table. The couple heard their approach and both of them looked up at
the same moment and got to their feet.

The man was almost as tall as Travis but not as well
muscled. He was about thirty, with narrow shoulders, light brown hair,
a thin mouth and a receding chin that gave him a look of weakness. He
was smoking a cigarette in a long ivory holder.

The woman appeared to be a year or two younger than the
man. She had thick red hair and green eyes and although she had applied
her makeup with a too-generous hand she was pretty in a brittle sort of
way. Both of the visitors had first looked at Travis and then,
startled, at Susan.

The woman recovered first and stepped forward to give
Travis an obviously unwelcome hug. "Travis, darling! How wonderful to
see you again. We were crushed when we arrived and learned you were
away."

Travis extricated himself from the woman's arms and said
tensely, "Hello, Violet. And Curt." He drew Susan to his side.
"Darling, these are my cousins, Violet Graves and Curt Winston. Violet,
Curt, I'd like you to meet my wife, Susan."

Violet appeared to be struck momentarily dumb, but Curt
extended a hand that felt soft in Susan's grip. "Well!" Curt said with
a heartiness that sounded forced. "This is a surprise. We had no idea,
Travis, not that I can blame you now that I've seen her." He smiled at
Susan. "How long have you and Travis known each other?"

"Long enough," put in Travis tersely. Susan glanced up at
him uncertainly. It was obvious that he disliked these cousins of his
intensely. She decided to keep her distance from them until she learned
more about the background of that dislike.

"You both have our congratulations," Curt was saying.

"Thank you," Susan murmured.

Violet spoke. "Mala didn't see fit to tell us you were
married."

"My employees don't discuss my business with others,"
Travis said in the same tense tone he'd used with Curt.

Violet's painted lips curved in a smile that didn't soften
the glitter in her green eyes, a glitter that looked to Susan very much
like anger. There were undercurrents here that she couldn't begin to
fathom.

"How odd that you should put your marriage in the category
of business," the woman said, her gaze slicing into Travis.

"You must make yourself comfortable," Travis said with
undisguised mockery as his eyes took in the empty liquor glasses. "I'm
sure you'll both excuse us. Susan and I are tired after our flight and
want to rest before dinner. We'll see the two of you then."

He steered Susan back across the verandah and into the
house. When they were alone in a large bedroom containing a massive bed
with a tall, carved mahogany headboard and several other articles of
dark furniture, Susan said, "I had the impression you haven't seen your
cousins in some time."

"It's been years."

"Is Violet Curt's sister? They have different last names."

"Yes. She was married the last I heard of
her—may still be, but I doubt it. I can't see Violet being
content as a homemaker."

"I don't mind if you want to go back down and talk to
them," Susan said carefully. "It seems rude to leave them like that."

"It's rude to visit someone without giving some advance
notice of your arrival," Travis returned.

The unexpected appearance of Curt and Violet had put him
in a black mood and Susan realized that she was seeing a side of her
husband's character that hadn't surfaced before. She didn't pursue the
matter. Instead, she said, "I think I'll have a bath and lie down for a
bit."

"Yes, that's a good idea. I have to look up my overseer
and find out how the work is going here. Forgive me, please? Dinner
will be at eight. I'll come back and change before that." He kissed her
briefly and left.

She couldn't help feeling a little hurt at the abrupt
change in his manner toward her, after all that talk on the plane about
wanting to be alone with her. But she would have to get used to having
his work claim much of his time and attention, and she supposed she
might as well start now.

The bathroom adjoining the bedroom was a surprise; it had
obviously been remodeled in recent years. A chocolate-brown shag carpet
covered the floor, and the fixtures were soft yellow. The tub was the
most impressive; it was at least twice the size of ordinary tubs and
partially sunk below floor level so that one had to step down into it.
There was also a separate stall shower in one corner.

As she bathed, Susan puzzled over her husband's strained
relationship with his cousins and wondered why, given that, they should
want to come for a visit. Perhaps Travis would explain later, when he
was in a more amiable frame of mind. She finished her bath and returned
to the bedroom to find that her luggage had been brought up.

She lay down across the white cotton bedspread in her
slip. Almost immediately she was asleep and didn't awaken until
seven-thirty when Travis came back to change for dinner. He was wearing
a chambray shirt and jeans, and was damp with
perspiration—and he still looked annoyed.

"Is anything wrong?" Susan asked, sitting up in the bed.
"Anything else, I mean?"

He shook his head and began stripping off his shirt. "Not
really. We've fallen behind with the cane, but that happens
periodically."

"Did you get a chance to talk to Curt and Violet?"

He walked toward the bathroom. "I'll have all the
conversation with them that I want at dinner."

Susan got up and put on a blue cotton tiered skirt and a
cool white batiste peasant blouse with white sandals. Then she brushed
her hair and secured it away from her face with combs at her temples.
She hoped Travis's cousins didn't stay long, since their mere presence
seemed to make him bristle.

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair, salvaged only by the
delicious food Mala and Amii had prepared—tender,
butter-basted flying fish, candied yams and a salad of fresh native
fruits and melon balls. An excellent white wine was served with the
meal, which was completed with raspberry ice and coffee.

The conversation between Travis and his cousins was
stilted and punctuated with incomprehensible innuendos from Violet, who
frequently looked at Susan in a way that seemed to be assessing. Just
why she was being assessed, Susan didn't know, nor did she care very much. She just
wanted the meal to end and enough time to pass so that she could excuse
herself without seeming inhospitable and go back upstairs.

It seemed forever before that could be accomplished. When
at last she was in the bedroom again, she expected Travis to follow her
shortly. But he didn't. She sat up for a long time, waiting for him.
When he didn't come, she decided that he must have unbent enough to try
to make up for his earlier rudeness with his cousins. They were
probably talking more easily, now that the three of them were alone.
She tried not to feel left out of her husband's life, but it was
difficult.

She began to feel drowsy and changed into a sheer yellow
gown. She turned out the light and opened louvered wooden doors to step
out onto the private balcony. She leaned against the railing and
listened to the sounds of night creatures—frogs and something
that sounded like the crickets at home and occasionally the melancholy
cry of a bird.

As she stood there, she heard male voices from below
raised in anger. Travis and Curt had apparently left the house and were
standing in a side courtyard, but she couldn't see them, nor could she
make out their words. Only the anger was clear. Then the voices stopped
and, shortly, she heard a car leaving, its tires crunching on the drive.

Still Travis did not come upstairs, and finally she
couldn't stay awake any longer. She got into the bed, which seemed very
large and lonely without Travis. In the darkness, she gave in to her
hurt feelings at being neglected and let the tears come unchecked.

The last thought she had before sleep overtook her was
that she had never expected to go to bed on her wedding night alone.

Shortly before dawn, Susan dreamed that she was in
Travis's arms. She stirred and tried to burrow more deeply into the
dream, not wanting it to end.

"Umm, you feel good." Travis's voice was a husky whisper
in her ear.

She reached out to touch the solid hardness of his
shoulder and realized that she wasn't dreaming. "Travis," she mumbled
sleepily, "I've missed you. What have you been doing?"

"Thinking about you." He tugged at her gown. "I don't like
nightgowns."

She let him pull the wispy fabric over her head and
snuggled close to him. "I'll remember to wear pajamas after this," she
teased.

He growled and nuzzled the tautened tip of one breast with
his lips while he slid his hand over her stomach and hips, exploring,
awakening her senses.

"I want you, Susan," he murmured, a ragged edge to the
words.

Sensuous delight flowed through all her veins and she
squirmed invitingly as he moved on top of her. A shudder ran down his
long frame as they began to move together. The wild longing inside her
built ever higher until at last it peaked and disintegrated, sending
quivering sparks of pleasure through her.

Trembling, she sighed, "Oh, Travis, I love you."

He murmured her name and, rolling off her, wrapped his
arms around her, clasping her to him.

Lazy and fulfilled, Susan pressed her cheek against his
chest and drifted back into sleep.

When she awoke, sunlight was streaming across the bed from
the balcony; she had failed to close the louvered doors completely the
night before. She felt for Travis beside her, and did not find him.
Then she saw him standing in the shadows beside the closet, tucking a
work shirt into his jeans. She sat up, pulling the slipping sheet up to
cover her nakedness.

"I guess the real world has overtaken us," she observed,
wrinkling her nose at him. "You're going to take time for breakfast,
aren't you, before you trudge out to the fields?"