Stormy Haven (23 page)

“
That
’
s rather different,
”
he answered charmingly.
“
I must confess that I was influenced by the fact that she would be living with you. Take good care of her for me, won
’
t you?
”
The old-fashioned
fiancé
, thought Melanie wryly. He was an excellent actor.

The next day she completed the first six pages of the chronicles, and during the rest of the week she increased the daily output. Involuntarily she became absorbed in the stories recounted in those aging papers. Port Fernando had been named after a duel between a Spanish don and the Comte Pierre de Marbleux. The Spaniard had won and given his name to the port, but because his opponent had made a miraculous recovery from what had appeared a fatal wound, the next place along the coast had been called Pierre—later distorted by the Indians into Pirree.

There were descriptions of ships with the dawn all pink on their billowing sails, of a mass wedding of French sailors with an assortment of brides, of the arrival of several young scions of the French aristocracy with their fear-filled wives.

The week ended and Stephen came again, to report that Ramon, his father and Elfrida were now on their way to their respective homes. It was not till they were at dinner that he announced his own imminent departure. He was planning to leave Mindoa the following Wednesday.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The island without Stephen
was a barren garden, a piano minus a keyboard, an untenanted house. At first Melanie could neither eat, sleep nor work. She sat at the writing table with her hands hard against her burning eyes, her teeth clenched so tightly that her ears and temples ached. She walked to tire her body, played with the baby, helped Lucille in the dairy and distillery. But each night when the house settled for sleep her mind awoke from the lethargy and vainly recaptured every moment of the afternoon when Stephen had sailed.

Henry had driven her into Port Fernando, had shaken hands with Stephen at the jetty head. Melanie had moved at Stephen
’
s side, a frozen smile on her face. They had stopped at a gangplank, become the focus of many dark eyes on the freighter
’
s deck. One rope had already been cast off, Melanie remembered, and an individual in a singlet and a peaked cap had called out something unintelligible, to which Stephen had made an equally foreign reply.

He had taken
Melanie
’
s
elbows.
“
Be a good child,
”
he
’
d said,
“I
’
ll write you from Alexandria and
I
shall look for a letter from you.
”

She
’
d felt goaded to say,
“
Are you still being the old-fashioned
fiancé
?
”

“
You
’
d be surprised how old-fashioned,
”
he
’
d told her enigmatically. His hands had slid up to her shoulders, gripped while he bent and kissed her lips.
“
I
’
m taking one for the road,
”
he
’
d said.
“
So long, my dear.
”

Standing there in the hot, waning sunshine she had shivered. Her shoulders were cold where his hands had been, her mouth quivered with the pain of yearning. Blindly, she had made her way back to the car, and Henry had at once turned the two-seater toward home.

It seemed to Melanie that she would never shed the
bitterness of that parting, never live down the horror of the first night after his departure. Had he been even dimly conscious of her grief he could not have gone. But to Stephen she was a child, and most children are adaptable to change and loss.

Even Lucille did not quite understand. She had come late to loving a man; her love had always been mature and solid. She had never known the bayonet thrusts of young, unrequited love, nor experienced the utter hopelessness that was now Melanie
’
s. She accepted the girl
’
s depression as natural, but had no inkling of its tragic depths.

Very gradually Melanie grew a thin skin over the wound to her heart and mind. Resolutely she turned to the work that had temporarily become pointless, and soon she was completing the twenty pages a day that she had set herself in the beginning. She lived with the Jamesons as a younger sister might, and Lucille was the best possible friend in the world, while Henry was continually showing his delight in having her around. Neither appeared to notice that the spirit had gone out of her; but Colin suspected it.

He came over most weekends, and invariably stayed the night. His presence was quiet and unobtrusive; his drawl, conveying nothing important, managed to offer sympathy. He swam with Melanie, took her to Pirree or Port Fernando in his car, which was no larger than Henry
’
s but of a later vintage. On Saturday evenings the four of them played cards, and on Sundays Colin turned up the stereo and chose the liveliest records.

One weekend he took her to his plantation at Carimari. His main crop was sugar, so there was nothing much to see except the shiny green acres bent low in the wind. His bungalow was old, with iron veranda posts and small windows, and inside it had the plain, established look that is inseparable from old, ordinary furniture and unimaginative ornaments.

He seated Melanie in his small living room, gave her a cigarette and lighted a pipe for himself.

“
The house is more or less as my brother left it,
”
he said.
“
For a year or so Lucille lived here, too, but she took her imprint with her.
”

“
Don
’
t you get bored with living alone?
”

He smiled.
“
Occasionally, but there
’
s always the club as an antidote. If you like, we
’
ll have dinner there this evening. It
’
s not so stylish as the Miramar but the atmosphere is matey. Stephen always said he preferred it.
”
He puffed thoughtfully on his pipe.
“
Have you heard from him since he sailed?
”

She shook her head.
“
They don
’
t bother much with the mail for Mindoa. Even airmailed correspondence has to come by sea from Bombay. He may not have written yet, of course.
”

Colin did not hasten to reassure her, as she had expected. In his slow voice he said,
“
He should have taken you with him. All that stuff about women being unequal to camp life is eyewash. If he wouldn
’
t have you under canvas with him, he could have billeted you in the nearest town with the wives of his colleagues. In his shoes,
”
he finished,
“
I
’
d have let you make the choice, and
I’
m pretty certain what it would have been.
”

She disposed of the scarcely smoked cigarette.
“
I think,
”
she nerved herself to reply,
“
that Stephen was rather glad to have the El Geza contract to complete. It will give us both time to be
...
sure of ourselves.
”

“
What I can
’
t understand is a man like Stephen Brent walking out on something that belongs to him.
”
Quickly, he w
e
nt on,
“
I
’
m not doubting that he loves you as much as you
love him
—
I know he does, but
—”

“
How do you know?
”
she had to ask.

Colin looked curiously confused.
“
Well, surely, Melanie
... would he be engaged to you otherwise?
”

So that was it. Crazy and irrational to hope Stephen had thrown out some unmistakable hint to Colin Jameson. She judged it prudent to smile.

“
I don
’
t suppose he would,
”
she said.
“
Let
’
s hope the mail will come in soon. And now tell me what goes into the growing of sugar.
”

He complied, while Melanie reflected that he was almost too easy to get along with. She was in a mood to welcome conflict in any form, and to Colin the verbal skirmish was anathema. But she was grateful for him.

Four nights later they went to the Miramar for dinner. The diners were the same strange mixture of nationalities as before, the air was heavy with perfumed smoke and the sickly scent of overblown jasmine that further reduced Melanie
’
s appetite. She ate a little of the curry and ricebread, tasted a syrupy dessert and drank some wine, but it was refreshing to go into the fan-cooled ballroom and dance. It was there that she caught sight of Colonel Davidson, stepping a sedate measure with his wife. He saw Melanie at the same time and worked his way toward her.

His greeting was courteous.
“
Good evening, Melanie. How are you, Jameson. I
’
m very happy to have met you tonight. Next week we
’
re opening the Indian clinic—it
’
s in the house that was Stephen
’
s—and I felt sure that you, Melanie, would like to be present.
”

“
They
’
ve turned the house into a clinic?
”
she said rather dazedly.
“
That
’
s quick. Whose idea was it?
”

“
Whose would it be but Stephen
’
s? His Development Corporation is tremendously wealthy. As you know, they buy tracts of land all over the world and test for various minerals, and so on. They happen to be on the eve of wonderful developments in northeast Africa, and they can afford to be generous with the comparatively worthless soil of Mindoa. They
’
re relinquishing their rights here; the land is to be divided up among a few worthy but poor Indians, and the house is to be used as an outpatients
’
hospital and pharmacy; it will replace that germ-ridden little hole on the Marine Drive. The grounds are sufficiently large to accommodate a hospital, and perhaps one day we
’
ll collect enough funds to start building one.
”
With a pleased smile, he added,
“
In this sort of thing Stephen is very much as his father was. He gave permission for the house to be converted before he left, and now he
’
s sent a substantial cheque to head the subscription list for the proposed hospital.

Melanie heard
h
erself saying huskily,
“
You
’
ve had a letter from him. Where is he?
”

Mrs. Davidson put a gentle hand on her arm.
“
But surely he
’
s written to you, too, my dear? Ours came yesterday, from Alexandria.
”

It was Colin who suggested,
“
He
’
ll probably have written to Melanie by the same mail. Henry hasn
’
t collected since Thursday, and I
’
m afraid she
’
ll have to wait now till Monday. Hard luck, Melanie.
”

“
That will be it!
”
exclaimed the colonel.
“
Go on dancing, you two. We
’
ll expect you at that opening, Melanie.
”

The couples parted, and after one more dance Colin brought around the car and they started for home.

Sunday and most of Monday were a protracted series of bad dreams for Melanie. Stephen had written only to the colonel; he had put off sending a note to Melanie as
a piffling duty he would have to perform sometime, but not right n
o
w. He was forgetting her already, falling back into the condition of mind in which she had first known him, when she had meant nothing more than a vague nuisance to be relegated to a position way down in his thoughts.

Between convincing herself of the worst, Melanie tried to visualize the house given over to the quest of good health among Indians. It was only a beginning; Stephen must have realized that. Those young, tuberculous women would never be healed, but perhaps their many daughters would grow up better for and without that fatalistic slant on life and inevitable early death. For long, wild moments Melanie saw herself training feverishly to assist at the clinic, but deep at heart she was aware of a stronger force that must eventually carry her away from Mindoa, no doubt forever.

Henry got back from Port Fernando at about six and at once had his bath. They were on the veranda in the early darkness when he said suddenly,
“
I clean forgot. There
’
s a letter for Melanie. I expect it
’
s from Stephen.
”

He had to go indoors and sort through his own correspondence to find it, and Melanie followed him with a fist pressed fiercely against her heart. She took the letter into her bedroom, shakily slit the envelope, but she had to sit down before she could read.