***

"Colin?" Lavinia peered into the open door of the church.
The reverend's fair head popped up from between the pews. "Lavinia!"

The island woman stepped into the coolness of the church, grateful to be out of the hot sun. If it was one thing Europeans understood is the way to keep air cool. The sheer size of the church's ceiling allowed the air to continually move.

"What brings you here?"

She held up a jar. "You asked for some of my grandmother's spice mixture."

"Oh that's right! Thank you so much for bringing it. I had completely forgotten."

She set the jar on a sideboard. "You look harried."

"You have no idea." He pushed up his glasses and slicked back his hair.

"You mean the church social."

Colin looked surprised. "You know about it?"

"Word tends to travel rather quickly on an island."

"I see. Yes, of course. Of course, it would. Perfectly logical."

"Is there something wrong, Colin?" She came over to him.

"No, of course not. No."

"I gather Mrs. Titchmarsh and company have been rather demanding."

Colin sighed wearily, dropping himself on a wooden pew. "I don't understand why people can't be more trusting. I am very capable of putting on a dance."

Lavinia sat down on the pew beside. "Are you?"

"Yes, indeed. I was on the committee of many a dance organization at the seminary. Sometimes I even managed a theme."

That brought a laugh from the woman beside him. She could almost imagine a young Colin fastidiously arranging music and guest lists and punch bowls.

"I was quite good," he insisted.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

"Well, Mrs. Titchmarsh believes apparently that I am quite incompetent."

Lavinia tried to reassure him. "It's not that. She's just...just..."

"Intolerant," he finished. Leaning back, he rubbed his eyes.

She was quick to pick up where his bitterness lay. "You mean about Polynesians. All I can say is that I'm glad I'm not going to the dance."

He brought his attention to Lavinia. Her perception was uncanny. It always was, about a great many things. "You know about that?"

"The rules were set a long time ago, Colin, and not by you. I'm well aware of them and my place. I just hope that maybe it won't be this way forever."

"I'm doing my very best to make sure of that." He moved closer, hoping to be of some comfort to her. "It just takes some people longer to come around."

"Some people never come around." A group of children ran past outside, their laughter echoing within the walls of the church; it was a wonderful sound that offered hope. She nodded toward them. "Just remember, sometimes it's more important to lay the seeds so that those who come afterward learn something more than what came before or what is at present," she told him softly.

Regarding her with wondrous eyes, he straightened. "You are an incredibly wise person, Lavinia."

"And you are a wonderful person for noticing."

A silence grew between them. Emotions surged up, ones they weren't ready to admit to yet. Finally, Colin did the decent thing and stood up, gathering the jar of spices. "I'll go put this in the pantry."

Lavinia nodded, still trapped within her own thoughts. She watched the sensitive Reverend depart, amazed by his never ceasing faith in both his devotion and in the future. She allowed a smile. Maybe in time, the winds would blow a new way of thinking in from the sea. Thanks to Colin, she almost believed in it for the first time.

***

The setting sun set the sea ablaze with orange and yellow, leaving plenty of light to guide the dinghy to the Rattler as she rested in the placid water. The wind was nil and left the surface of the water like stained glass.

David's boat didn't looked much bigger even close up, Fairfax decided as he reached for the ladder while Tah-mey steadied the dinghy. Even after David and Isabelle Reed greeted him and the Lieutenant aboard and gave them a tour of the ship, he still wasn't convinced. He wondered how a man could make a decent living doing such a thing. In comparison, a boat wasn't like property. It was cramped and small, unlike acres and acres of pristine grazing land. Property made a man; and it offered wealth and security. Even if a portion of it was burned or damaged, if you had enough land, the loss still wouldn't break you. The rest of your assets could carry you through. But a boat, especially one of this size, was miniscule when compared to the ocean it sailed upon. One storm and your small patch of land would be gone and you'd be adrift, penniless and worth nothing, perhaps even dead.

No, David's choice to become a sailor had been a poor one. He had been a fool to throw away his father's land just to live on the sea in this small piece of driftwood. He didn't even seem happy to be a sailor. Every once in a while, Fairfax could see uncertainty and melancholy pass over his friend's expression. It was not the expression of a man who was satisfied with his decisions in life. Most likely, seeing his old friend from back home had made David realize what a mistake he had made. But it was too late now.

He poured another glass of wine for himself. Isabelle had set their "table" on the deck of the boat. There didn't seem to be any place big enough below deck for proper dining. The food had been good surprisingly. Miss Reed could certainly cook. No wonder David kept her around. But as a partner? It was unbelievable. Still, his friend was a sucker for a pretty face. Always had been. He let women rule him; they'd put tears in their eyes, bat their eyelashes, and he'd run to their rescue and offer them all his worldly goods. What a fool. He briefly wondered what this woman had over him. What story had she concocted to draw him into her web of deceit?

But what did he care? This was David's choice for a way of life, unprofitable and uncertain though it was. From the tall tales David was spinning about the sea, it was a wonder he was still alive much less wealthy. They spent most of the evening swapping stories, with Lt. Derby and Isabelle listening politely. Eventually though, conversation lulled and small matters were discussed in their stead.

David said, "There's going to be a dance next Saturday night if you're still in town. You and the Lieutenant are welcome to attend. It will be held at the church's assembly hall."

"So much for a good time then, eh?" jested Fairfax. "I expect your preacher will keep the liquor under wraps."

David shrugged. "I've been to drier parties."

"Yes, and they were all boring."

"Well, I think it sounds delightful." Lt. Derby turned to Isabelle. "Will you be there?"

Isabelle couldn't help but smile at the young man's hopeful demeanor and then at David's frown as he looked from the young navy lieutenant to her and back again. "No, I'm afraid not, but my phonograph will be supplying the entertainment."

"You have a phonograph?" Lt. Derby sounded thrilled, as if it was Christmas Day.

"Yes, and I have discs to go with it. They were a gift from my brother."

"Remarkable," he exclaimed.

David merely grunted and turned again to Fairfax. Inevitably, the discussion returned to the past.

"You know," commented Fairfax, "your father hasn't changed much since you've left. In fact, he's gotten more bullheaded than ever."

"It doesn't surprise me," admitted David, shifting ever so slightly on the deck. His hand strayed to toy with a bit of rigging by his knee.

"Remember Merrill Dugan who ran the mercantile in town? He and your father came to blows."

Still David didn't seem surprised. "Over what?"

Fairfax shook his head. "I believe it was over the cost of grain that year."

"Certainly something to pummel a man for," David commented sadly.

"That's your father for you."

"Does he ever mention me?" David asked abruptly in a low voice.

Isabelle quickly ceased her quiet discussion with the Lieutenant and looked over at her partner, alarm bells ringing.

Fairfax sighed as if he had been expecting this question for quite some time. "No. But then again, I try to steer clear of the old man as much as possible. I've got my own ranch to run nowadays."

David nodded, his tone unaltered. "That's great. I'm happy for you, Michael. To some folks, land is everything."

"Land is everything."

"You haven't changed."

"And neither have you. You're still living on dreams and star shine."

"He's done a fine job of building a life out here," piped up Isabelle, not liking the way the conversation was heading suddenly. She didn't like the way David's face was darkening, like a storm building out at sea.

Fairfax turned to her, his hard blue eyes piercing her with resentment for interrupting. "Has he ever told you what he gave up for this ... this boat?" The derision in his voice was plain.

"Michael," David warned sternly. "That's enough."

Lt. Derby coughed as a means of polite interruption. "I thought this was supposed to be an enjoyable evening. Let's not waste it with memories and conversation better left to another time and place."

Fairfax glanced at the three people around him and saw that he was outvoted. He shrugged. "Fine. I didn't come out here to make trouble."

"What did you come out here for, Michael?" David asked bluntly. "It's a hell of a long way to travel just to reminisce."

Fairfax stared at David. "I came out for business reasons, one of which might interest you. But we'll leave that for another time and place. One more private." He glared at Isabelle.

"I'm all for discussing business," Isabelle stated matter-of-factly.

"It's business that doesn't concern you."

Now David bristled. "We're partners, Michael. The sooner you accept that fact the better. We both have a voice in business matters. There are no secrets between us."

"Then you're a fool," Fairfax pointed out. "But this is family business and unless she's your wife, then she has no right to butt in."

"What's the matter with you, Michael? What have you got against Isabelle?"

"She's female, David, and you above all should know that you and women don't mix. You loose your head over them every time. Your father knows it and I know it. The only one who constantly remains blind to that fact is you."

"That's enough, Michael."

"Fine." Fairfax stood. "I'll say goodnight then. When you're ready to discuss business, I'll be at the bar." He regarded the Lieutenant. "You coming."

Lt. Derby hesitated but then nodded at Isabelle and David. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"You're welcome," replied Isabelle, surprised to find she was a little disappointed that the navy man was leaving, since he had been nothing but polite.

Tah-mey rowed them back to shore, leaving a very agitated David at the stern of the ship. His grip on the rigging was so tight that Isabelle could see the white of skin in the dim light.

Isabelle came and sat quietly behind him for a while and together they watched the sun sink into the sea, but neither really saw the beauty of it, their thoughts centered on other more personal things: for David, his past; for Isabelle, the man in front of her commanded her attention. Eventually, when she felt he had been alone long enough with his own brooding thoughts, she commented in a low voice, just loud enough to be heard over the creak of the ship, "The appearance of family always brings back the past, ugly stuff first, things you've buried for a long while. But after it all bubbles to the surface, the rest of it can still be enjoyable."

"Are you sticking up for him?" David snapped.

"For Michael? No, personally I don't think much of him. But if you count him as a friend, then I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt." She regarded him directly. "Should I?"

David shrugged, letting out a weary breath. "I don't know. It's been years since I've seen him. We were just kids then with our whole lives ahead of us. He wanted to stay in Queensland and I wanted to travel. We rarely saw eye to eye on anything, except beer, poker and horseback riding. It seemed enough back then."

"Youth has a way of bridging wide barriers."

"We were good friends. He stuck by me against my father. I appreciated that."

"What do you think he wants to talk to you about now?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to know."

Isabelle rose to stand beside him at the rail, her slender hand resting just below his on the rigging rope, staring at the same spot on the ocean, the open sea, where freedom and tranquility beckoned. She could feel that tug at her heart as strong as David all of a sudden. Above all, she cherished it for it brought the two of them closer.

Then she laughed and David looked down at her, puzzled, curious at her sudden humor.

"I bet you're sorry you invited him to the dance," she admitted.

David finally grinned. "Yes, that was a blunder."

"One that can only be made so brilliantly by yourself. It's your trademark after all."

"Wonderful," muttered David.

***

It was a quiet morning on Matavia, both islanders and sailors late to rise. The sun shone with its usual brilliance. Surprisingly, Jack was out and about, but solely because he had promised to help Claire gather chairs for the social, but he didn't regret it. In fact, he was delighted for the chance to be near her, even if it was just manual labor that brought them together.

He couldn't get the vision of that startling kiss they had shared on the steps the night of Isabelle's birthday out of his head. It was burned into his brain and its continuous replay made him short of breath every time. He still couldn't fathom why she had been so bold. Not that he regretted it. He just hadn't expected it of her, not with him. He had always seen her in such a perfect light, one born from the rigors of proper English society. In his wildest dreams he hadn't imagined Claire ever giving him more than a chaste sisterly kiss on the cheek.

Okay, that wasn't really the truth. Often he had imagined it. He just hadn't believed it would ever come true. It was gift from her. He knew that. And it was because of that one kiss burning in his memory that Jack had agreed to the dancing lessons and to attend the social with the possibility of even dancing with her.

She had wanted to dance with him at Isabelle's party and he had said no, out of fear, out of embarrassment. He wasn't able to tell her why, that he didn't know how to dance. Now suddenly David had presented him with an opportunity to give her a gift back. He would learn how to dance and take her onto the floor and twirl her about till her own breath left her body.

Jack shook his head in wishful frustration, again so caught up in the image that he had lost where he was going. He doubled back and found Claire looking for him.

"There you are. What happened?"

"Sorry," he confessed. "I was daydreaming."

"A dangerous thing for a sailor," she told him with grin.

"True enough," he responded, his own shy smile emerging.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm and steered him in the right direction. Just that simple act caught Jack's breath.

"I'm so glad you're coming to the party, Jack. It's going to be so exciting."

"Someone needed to run the phonograph."

"Well, they couldn't have found a better man for the job."

"I like music. It's lyrical even without words, how all those different instruments still can sound like a single thought."

"Like order within chaos."

"Yes. Exactly." He regarded her with surprise.

"I used to study music when I was a child. My mother thought it would be extremely practical in my later life." She laughed as if that held a private humor for her.

"Do you play an instrument?"

"The piano. A little bit. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it. I only wanted to read books at that age."

"I read quite a bit when I was just a lad too."

"What did you read?"

Claire was always so inquisitive, so interested. It didn't matter who was speaking or what the topic generally was. She always came across as someone who sincerely was interested in whatever it was one was discussing. It made Jack feel important, like there was something interesting about him. Something he hadn't felt in many, many years.

"Anything I could get my hands on really," he admitted. "Books opened up a world to me that I had never known existed. I wanted to see it all."

"Me too! Travel books fired my blood the most, I think. Tales of exotic places. I swore to myself, I'd see them some day."

"You made good on your promises."

Claire nodded, beaming with pleasure at his compliment. "Is that where your poetry came from? From those books?"

Jack's head slipped down a little, embarrassed. His poetry only escaped him when he was drunk, or at least usually. Of late it was emerging even when he was sober. He attributed it to the woman standing beside him. How could her beauty both inside and out not inspire someone? "My poetry brought you here on a fool's errand," he reminded her softly.

"Perhaps. But it also was powerful enough to make an introverted young woman travel to a place of wonder and imagination. I don't count the experience as a loss." She smiled at Jack. "I have discovered my true self here, Jackson McGonnigal and I wouldn't trade that for the world. Perhaps I should be thankful for your hand in it, fraudulent as it may have been at first." Jack's wide-eyed expression delighted her. She released his arm and opened the door to the assembly hall. "After you, sir."

It took a moment but Jack finally stumbled inside with his load of chairs. He always seemed to be fumbling around Claire, physically and verbally, never making the right move or finding his voice at the perfect moment. It seemed as if she were always one step ahead of him and he was rushing to catch up. He would have felt more at ease if he were doing the chasing with about four glasses of stiff whiskey added for the nerve. He was grateful for the cool air inside the hall. It dried the sweat that peppered his skin, sweat he doubted came from the exertion of carrying the chairs.

"Set them over here, Jack."

He complied and then went about arranging them. There were lots of chairs yet to bring over, but Claire also needed some boxes moved out of the hall and into some temporary place till after the dance. She struggled with the boxes that were stacked higher and heavier than she thought. They came tumbling down. Claire cried out as the top one slid off and brought her to the ground.

Jack raced over. "Claire!" He threw the box aside and leaned over to see if she was hurt.

The main door slammed open and two figures darted in. In a flash they had hold of Jack and had pinned his arms back.

The gruff voice of one snarled in his ear. "That's enough of that kind of behavior, sailor scum."

"Wait," Jack shouted, but a fist from the other slammed into his stomach, doubling him over.

Claire gained her feet swiftly. "No! What are you doing? He was trying to help me!" She squinted in the dim light at the two strangers.

"Are you sure, ma'am?" asked one, a tall slender fair-haired man, dressed in a naval uniform. The other man was stockier but yet still definitely Australian by his accent. She didn't recognize them. They must be new to the island.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said angrily. "Now release him this minute."

The sandy haired man complied immediately and stepped back, apologizing to Jack. The other man still kept hold of Jack's arm and glared hotly at Claire.

"It's a dangerous thing, ma'am, to be fraternizing with the likes of him in a dark hall."

Claire had her ire up and it flared even further at the man's disdainful comment. "And it's a more dangerous thing to assume improprieties when there are none. This man is more of a gentlemen than the two of you put together." She stood proudly before them.

"We thought we were coming to your rescue," confessed the man in uniform. He seemed a man of manners, and Claire's anger was fast fading toward him.

"Well, as you can see I am perfectly fine."

The fair haired man nodded. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lieutenant Alan Derby of the HMS Victory."

"The naval vessel anchored in the harbor," Claire declared. She had watched the ship arrive and had tried twice to interview its captain to no avail.

"The very same. My companion is Michael Fairfax."

She turned to the other man who was still bristling at the inconvenience of the matter. "You're David's friend." She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice at the discovery. She had expected someone different, less ... abrasive.

Fairfax's eyes narrowed at her. "You seem to be remarkably well informed around here. And just who might you be?"

"I'm Claire Devon. I own and operate the local newspaper here on the island." She extended a hand.

Fairfax took it. "My apologies also then." He turned toward Jack who was still trying to catch his breath, half hunched over. "No hard feelings, eh?"

Jack shook his head. "Easy mistake, I guess," he muttered, massaging his ribs.

"And you are?" asked Fairfax.

"Jackson McGonnigal," announced Claire with some pride. Jack's jaw merely tightened but he said nothing.

"You're the one they call Cannibal Jack?" Lt. Derby said slowly.

"Now there's a colorful moniker," remarked Fairfax with a scowl of distaste.

"I've heard of you," Lt. Derby responded. "You're the man who was shipwrecked and ate his own crew to survive." A faint look of repulsion was spreading over the lieutenant's face.

Fairfax took a step back in horror. He glanced back at Claire. "And this is the man that you want helping you with your work? You best be careful, Miss Devon."

Claire's anger was now as high as she had ever felt it. "Perhaps you'd be wise to do the same. Jack is kind man, a victim of circumstance. How dare you presume to judge him on only embellished stories and hearsay! You have no idea what this man has been through!"

Lt. Derby inclined his head. "Again, my apologies. But his reputation is somewhat renowned in these islands."

"It's not to me you should be apologizing to," she snapped.

Claire couldn't seem to get her anger under control. This was the first time she had to defend Jack in public against his crimes. It was very frustrating. How dare these men get up on their high horses when they didn't know the circumstances or what it might have been like for Jack, trapped and alone and starving with no hope of rescue in time.

Lt. Derby nodded his defeat and turned to Jack. "If the lady vouches for your good intentions, then how can I deny them? I apologize for striking you."

Jack gave a curt nod and dropped the hand that was bracing his stomach, straightening somewhat. He turned expectantly to the other man, waiting for an apology from his direction also.

But none was forthcoming from Michael Fairfax. "Good day to both of you then." He turned on his heel and departed the hall with the lieutenant following afterward.

Claire dusted herself off roughly as she came over to Jack, her concern evident. "I can't believe the gall of those men. Are you all right?"

The barest of grins emerged on Jack's worn face. He liked her fussing over him. "Of course. The man certainly doesn't hit like a sailor. Lavinia hits harder than he does."

Claire let out a relieved sigh and then shook her head. She still couldn't understand why Jack didn't stick up for himself regarding those men. "They were solely judging you based on preconceived notions."

Jack inclined his head. "Um, you had preconceived notions toward me as well at one time."

Claire's fair skin flushed pink. She regarded him shyly. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"You were just less physical about it." He grinned at her, placing a hand on his tender ribs. "It takes time for people to adjust to such a thing as cannibalism. It's a common thing in the islands but for Europeans it is still a aberration."

"Yes, but it's not like you did it because you liked it!"

"How do you know?"

"Don't tease me, Jackson McGonnigal!"

The sailor quickly sobered seeing she wasn't in the mood for levity. "I'm sorry, Claire, but it is a reaction you have to get used to if you continue to associate with the likes of me."

"But you shouldn't have to tolerate such ... intolerance from anyone. It appears to be running rampant of late on this island." Claire thought back to her conversation with Isabelle about the party. What was wrong with everyone?

Jack seemed to read her thoughts. "Most people don't stay around to learn that there's more to me than an odd dining habit."

"I did," she pointed out.

Jack smiled. "Yes, you did." He adjusted a small bit of lace at her neckline, letting his calloused fingers rub against her collarbone for the briefest of instants. Then he ceased. Her eyes were as large and shimmering as twin moons reflected in a still sea. He cleared his throat to break the spell. "We still have a lot of chairs to gather."

"Yes, we do," she said softly. Then she gave a small shiver and collected herself. "There's still so much to do before Saturday. "Do you think you can manage to lift these boxes?" Her hand brushed very lightly against his side where the navy lieutenant had struck him. It wasn't painful but her touch caused a slight breathlessness.

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Really."

"I'm glad."

He hefted the heavy boxes, watching her as she assisted him as best she could. He thought about having her holding him while they were dancing and his heart beat faster. For the first time he was looking forward to tonight's dancing lesson.

***

Isabelle and David climbed the tall stairs to the main office of Titchmarsh Exports, both a little leery as to why the man wanted to see them. Isabelle had brought along the records from the last run, just in case there was any question to the cargo, but David had a darker premonition, one he didn't think had anything to do with the last job or a future one.

The office was cleanly kept as they entered. A man of distinction rarely let dust settle unnecessarily. And Mr. Titchmarsh was definitely not one to allow that. But as their vision adjusted to the gloom, David's gut twisted with rage as he saw Michael Fairfax standing just to the side of Mr. Titchmarsh. He felt Isabelle stiffen beside him.

"Afternoon, Grief. Miss Reed," Mr. Titchmarsh welcomed. "Take a seat please."

Both David and Isabelle were too stunned to do anything but comply. The minute he sat down, David immediately wanted to stand.

Mr. Titchmarsh crossed his legs and leaned back in his leather chair. "I wanted to tell you in person rather than have a messenger sent round, even though this is business and I have every right to ensure the safely of my cargo."

"Get to the point, Mr. Titchmarsh," growled David, his eyes unwavering from Fairfax's smug expression.

"Mr. Fairfax here has offered me a very intriguing proposition which would better serve my interests at this time."

"You're reneging on our contract," stated Isabelle in an agitated snarl.

"Hardly," Mr. Titchmarsh noted. "Our contract clearly gives me an out if I feel that my cargo is in jeopardy. I have the right to seek other services."

"Jeopardy? How do you justify that? Your cargo has been safely transported via the Rattler."

"Yes, but you have an unerring ability to draw trouble. Need I remind you of the pirate attack on your vessel only a few months ago."

David was bristling now. "Every vessel on the sea runs the risk of being pirated. That is not viable jeopardy and you know it."

"Unless he can find a way to ensure that it won't happen," Fairfax stated.

"How the hell can he do that?" David snapped. He still didn't understand Fairfax's presence in this room, but he knew damn sure he wasn't going to like it.

"The naval vessel in the harbor has agreed to transport my cargo."

"What?" exclaimed Isabelle.

"Mr. Fairfax has used his pull with the captain of the Victory to convince them to store my cargo and transport it back to Australia. And as you know, there isn't a pirate alive that would risk going up against a vessel of His Majesty's fleet. I think I can confidently say that my cargo would not be in jeopardy. Can you make the same claim, Miss Reed?"

"You know damn well, I can't."

"Well then, I will break our contract and sign here with Mr. Fairfax. Thank you for your time."

Isabelle was red-faced and desperately trying to remain civil, for all the good it would do them. "Mr. Titchmarsh. We were counting on that money to make the next payment on the Rattler. We've already allocated funds elsewhere banking on that cargo. If you do this, we could lose our ship."

"Terribly sorry, Miss Reed, but perhaps this lesson will caution you into making more sound financial decisions."

"How dare you! This coming from the man who hires a drunk for a foreman and has a bigoted wife with delusions of grandeur."

"You impudent vixen!"

David laid a cautionary hand on her shoulder but didn't say anything to stop her. Instead he leaned on the desk, his attention solely directed at Michael Fairfax. "You've overstepped your bounds, Michael. I don't know why you chose to take this route but I won't forget it. Trust me."

"I'm counting on it."

Isabelle rose to her feet and grabbed David's arm. "Let's get out of here."

The two stormed out of the office. Isabelle's booted feet fell so heavily that the stairs actually shook on the way down.

"That sniveling, slack-jawed, sorry excuse for a son of a bitch ...that miserable, rotting baboon!"

"You referring to Fairfax or Titchmarsh?"

"Both of them! Damn it! I'll string them up by their guts! He had no right to backstab us. What the hell is he trying to prove?"

"We'll find out soon enough. It's me he's after. Michael has a hand to play. He's bound to show me his cards eventually." The trouble was David wasn't sure he was ready. The obvious thing was his past. Michael had his eye on something and he thought David was the key to getting it.

"I swear they won't relish getting the upper hand from me," Isabelle retorted. "I promise them that."

David almost smiled. He loved watching Isabelle get her dander up. It was refreshing and exhilarating, if not a tad dangerous. There was no telling what the lady would do for revenge. He'd have to watch her closely, something he looked forward to doing, no doubt about it.

***

"Are you sure we're alone?"

"Quite alone, Jack. Trust me." David shut the warehouse door. He had shoved all thoughts of this morning's backstabbing from his old friend to the back of his mind, concentrating instead on a true friend. Jack needed his help and what better way to brush aside disturbing memories of the past than to play matchmaker for Jack and Claire.

He had made a deal with old man Jenkins for an hour each night in this secluded warehouse. It was set far enough out of the way so no one would be suspicious of the odd sounds coming from it late at night. He had had to trade some fine port for this arrangement but at least it was legal. He'd have to confess to Isabelle about it eventually, but for right now, Jack's secret would be safe.

"How are we going to do this? We have no music," griped Jack, nervous beyond measure.

"I can hum a little for now and maybe once you have the steps down, we'll borrow the phonograph for some actual practice. Right now, it's just the basics." David lit the various lamps about the warehouse, bringing the illumination factor up marginally.

Jack stood in the center of a large empty space, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. Old man Jenkins didn't store very much this time of the year and David's voice echoed about the space. Jack was sure they could be seen and heard all the way into town.

"Are you sure no one will be able to hear us in here?" he asked.

"There's no one out here but some wharf rats and a few inebriated drunks who will most likely believe we're about as real as a pink elephant. Now stop worrying. This is going to work out just fine."

"I think you lit too many lamps."

"Jack, just relax." David walked over to him. "It's just the two of us."

"I need a drink."

"After." David stood in front of Jack. "Okay, first things first. You're the man and I'm the woman."

Immediately, sweat broke out on Jack's forehead. "This isn't going to work."

"Shh. Yes, it is. You approach Claire." David noticed the panic in Jack increase tenfold so he quickly amended. "You approach the woman you want to dance with and you say, "May I have the pleasure of this dance?..."

Jack just stood there.

David coughed and then gestured that Jack should repeat what he said.

Jack shuffled back and forth on his feet. "I thought this was a dancing lesson."

"It is. But there's an art to it after all. At this type of affair, you just don't stomp up to a woman and drag her to the dance floor."

"I know that!"

"Then act like it and show me."

Jack huffed and then took a deeper breath. "May I have this dance?"

David smiled. "I would be charmed."

The swift onset of embarrassment once again overwhelmed Jack. "I can't do this! It isn't going to work."

"It won't if you keep acting like an jug-headed horse. Now just play along."

"I can't."

David sighed and eased back. "Jack, men aspire to many things. Wealth, notoriety, a sailor, but there is no nobler a cause than to aspire to the love a woman. If you could dance beside such a beautiful creature, even for a brief moment, wouldn't all the work and embarrassment be worth the time spent? Even if nothing more ever came of it, wouldn't such an act set your soul to rest?"

Jack straightened. He thought of Claire, of her sun spun hair and her fair smooth face, lightly dusted with powder that only brought a rosy glow to her cheeks, dressed in unearthly white, a long gown gliding about her ankles. He was at her side and she smiled at him.

Holding onto that memory and drawing a deep breath, he regarded David. "What's next?"

"Good man. You offer your hand and then lead her to the dance floor."

Jack swallowed down any apprehension and did as David said. David took Jack's hand lightly and the two men found a spot in the center of the warehouse.

David nodded and then placed his left hand on Jack's right shoulder. He bobbed his head to his right hand still holding Jack's left. "These hands stay together. The woman places her left hand on your shoulder and your right hand goes at her waist."

Jack balked at placing his hand at David's waist. "What? How?"

David grabbed Jack's hand and set it just above his hip. "There." He winced as Jack fingers tightened, squeezing a ticklish spot. Suppressing a yelp, David reached down and took Jack's hand firmly, lifting it. "Lightly, Jack. Very lightly. Your touch should be hardly discernable. Feather light."

Jack tried again and only very slightly rested his hand against David. "Like that?"

"Fine. Now you lead. On the count of three, you step forward with your left foot. Ready?"

"No."

David just laughed. "Come on now, watch what I do. One two three, one, two, ow, three. Jack! Move your foot in an L motion. Like this. One, two, three. One, two, damn, three. Watch my feet."

"Sorry."

"Again, one, two, three, one... No, this way. You're supposed to lead."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. So long as there is no one in your way."

"And what if there is."

"Then you go around them. She'll follow you anywhere. Just be bold and lead her about the floor. Now again."

The two men tried once more and shuffled about the warehouse floor, their booted feet clumping around the wooden planks. Jack shifted a bit too quickly in one direction and didn't take David with him. As they moved in different directions the men jerked to a stop only because their other hands were still clasped together.

"You have to lead, Jack! You have to let me know where you want to go, otherwise I can't follow you."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

David took his hand and again placed it at his waist. "You use this hand to guide her."

"You said that hand was to be feather light." Jack was getting exasperated.

"Yes, but it must also be strong enough to nudge her into the right direction. She'll feel it, believe me, and she'll follow you."

"This makes no sense."

"It will. Now one more time. One, two, three, one..."

Jack stumbled along after him.

It was going to be a long night, David thought.

***

Late evening at Lavinia's bar was always lively. Drunken voices were raised in song; cards shuffled; hard earned cash changed hands over the course of hours; the harsh sound of glass thumped onto wooden tables. It was sheer music to Lavinia's ears. To her it was the sound of prosperity.

It was nearing closing time which was always an annoyance, since most of the stragglers preferred to stay in the bar than head for home, either to a nagging wife, a dirty hovel, or a lonely bunk. Lavinia may not like doing it, but it didn't mean she couldn't. Strangely, it was the one thing that Claire dreaded. She could serve drinks, swat offenders, and handle money, but she still didn't relish muscling a drunken sailor out the door. For some reason, most of the sailors seemed to listen to Lavinia. Maybe it was the air of authority that rang in her voice as she chastised them. Or most likely they understood that annoying the owner of the bar was a very unwise thing. Still it was a chore. It made Lavinia feel more like a mother at times than a barkeep.

She was surprised to see Cannibal Jack walk in. Of late, he had been retiring early. Captain Lodge kept him busy enough to warrant a good night's sleep. Despite the fact that she had lost one of her very best customers, she still respected Jack's decision to go sober or at least try to avoid unnecessary drunkenness. So why was he here this near to closing?

He looked tired and thirsty. Maybe a shipment had come in late and they had just finished unloading it. Odd though, she hadn't noticed the Malahini leave port and then return within the last week.

"Beer," he demanded as he leaned wearily on the bar.

Lavinia raised an eyebrow and procured a foaming mug for him. "What on earth have you been up to?"

Suddenly, Jack's skin flushed bright pink. "What? What makes you say that."

Lavinia regarded him with some surprise. "Because you look like you just ran from one end of the island and back again. And I know you're not a runner."

"I was ... um ... helping...um... David with something."

"David?"

"Yes." Jack realized he had made a blunder. Such a thing was easily corroborated between Isabelle and Lavinia.

"I see."

"We just had to move some stuff for the party," he quickly amended to throw Lavinia off the trail.

"Oh, the church social." Lavinia's regal face fell slightly. "Yes, I imagine there's lots of work to be done to make the hall European." She couldn't help the bitterness that nested in her tone of voice. She had thought she was above such pettiness.

Jack noticed and raised his head to look at her. "You won't be missing much. Mrs. Titchmarsh has made it a living hell for everyone. It won't be any fun, trust me."

Lavinia chuckled. "Leave it to her to suck dry the life of a party even before it's begun."

"She has a way of doing that."

Lavinia patted his large calloused hand and smiled gratefully. "Enjoy your drink, Jack, while I go roust some of the locals."

She left him to his beer and started shuffling some of the more complacent fellows out first.

"Bar's closing, fellows. Come back tomorrow."

The majority of drunks left easily enough. The only ones soon remaining were the ones crowding the poker table. There was a great deal of money in the pot, money no one was willing to leave uncontested.

"Last hand," Lavinia told them, ignoring the fact that she had told them that a few minutes earlier.

"Don't tell us to hurry, lady," snarled a voice. "We have a lot of cash on the table. Most of it mine."

It was Michael Fairfax. Inwardly, Lavinia groaned.

"You were all warned. Now play the hand and let me close up."

"We'll leave when we're ready and not before."

Lavinia sighed. She really wasn't in the mood for this tonight. "This is the last hand and the money goes to the lucky winner."

"I play the last hand when some of my money is back in my pocket." Fairfax's voice was hard.

Lavinia's ire bristled. "Then go finish playing in the street. The bar is closed."

Fairfax slammed his cards on the table and stood abruptly, towering over the slender Lavinia. If it was meant to cower her, he was sadly mistaken. But it didn't stop Jack from coming to Lavinia's defense nonetheless.

He slid in between the two of them. Fairfax stepped back with a scowl of disgust on his face. "This doesn't concern you."

"You heard the lady. The bar is closed." With a jerk of head Jack indicated the door. "You can come back tomorrow."

"And you can go to hell!" Fairfax stepped back close to Jack. "I won't take orders from a man who eats people to save his own skin. You're no better than a savage like her." He pointed at Lavinia.

"I don't care what you think, Fairfax. That's not the issue. Closing this bar and letting decent folk get to bed is. Now play the hand and leave."

The rest of the men sitting at the table were regulars at the bar and realized that Fairfax was about to start something serious that could ruin things for them at the only taproom in town. He was a stranger and only a temporary visitor to the islands. The rest of them would have to remain and deal with the consequences.

"Sit down and show your cards, Fairfax," one of them grumbled.

"Yeah, my wife is goin' tan my ass anyway unless I win back some of my own money."

Fairfax glared at the players. They were cowards, all of them. He tolerated cowards as much as he tolerated people like those that stood before him, thinking they were worthy enough to call themselves equals. But he also realized that these men would not back him up if he decided to make an issue of things. Angrily he flipped the cards over, as did the rest of the men. Fairfax had a losing hand. He cursed angrily as he watched his money pocketed by a grizzled old man who would only most likely spend it on more beer and a night with a savage.

Lavinia was standing at the door as the men filed out. She nodded her head graciously to the men who had helped put an end to the game. She was grateful to them. There were times when owning the only liquor source for some miles was definitely an advantage.

Fairfax exited last. Jack hadn't left his side, wary of the man causing trouble. Fairfax brushed hard up against Jack and hissed low with beer sodden breath, "If I ever see you with Miss Devon again, I'll make you sorry. I swear it. You stick to the savage." He gestured at Lavinia. "At least with her you have something in common."

He shoved past Jack and exited the door, glaring at Lavinia as she locked her establishment up with a great deal of relief. She turned to Jack. "Thank you. Usually I don't have that much difficulty."

"Fairfax is trouble."

She snorted and began gathering wayward glasses on a tray. "He's a braggart and a blowhard. Nothing I haven't seen breeze through this port before. Most Europeans have an arrogant attitude when they arrive and they usually have it when they leave." The gentle clinking of glasses echoed in the peace and quiet of the bar. "I just find it hard to understand why David would have anything to do with that man." She shook her head. "What did he say to you?"

Jack shook his head. "Nothing. Like you said, he's a braggart and a blowhard. Goodnight, Lavinia."

She stared curiously after him as he made for the door. "Goodnight, Jack."

***

The Rattler sat in still water in Matavia Bay while her crew scrubbed, mended, and scrapped her decks, sails and hull. She reveled in it, enjoying the tender care they lavished upon her.

David assisted Isabelle into the dinghy, trying hard not to limp. His feet were killing him from where Jack continually stomped on them. "Don't forget to badger Titchmarsh about next month's run to Queensland."

"Bold, aren't we? He's not going to hire us again. Fairfax saw to that. Besides Titchmarsh doesn't much care for me."

"Titchmarsh doesn't care for either of us. But it doesn't mean that he won't use our services next time. Michael can only use the naval vessel as long as they tolerate it, most likely only a time or two. Believe me; lumber sales only go so far. Eventually, the military won't play Michael's game for long. One trip, maybe two and then we have to be there to pick up the pieces. Regardless of what Titchmarsh thinks of us, remind him we can get the job done and that we have more experience."

"Yes, but it sticks in his craw that I'm a woman."

"It sticks in everyone's craw that you're an independent woman," he clarified.

"Including yours?"

David gave her that endearing smile that told her that he was sincere. "I've learned long ago that a woman can do a man's job, most of the time even better than a man. Now go along and make me lots of money."

Her expression turned briefly to one of surprise. She was stunned that David had come to that truth all on his own. However did that happen? She leaned toward him over the oars, her mouth quirking into a grin. "That's the only reason you love me, isn't it?"

David stared at her, his green eyes narrowing so they crinkled at the corners. "Of course."

Isabelle saw something in them that was different than usual, but she couldn't place it. She fumbled for the oars, finding it difficult to draw her eyes away from his. "I'll be back soon."

"Just don't pick up any strays while you're in town this time."

Now Isabelle's eyes narrowed. What an odd thing for him to say? But before she could respond, David shoved the dinghy out to the open water. She started rowing for shore, but David's words remained in her mind. Did he mean the Lieutenant? Was David jealous? What a fascinating concept. The Lieutenant was a nice enough man, but there was certainly nothing serious between them. Yet, David seemed irritated by him. She couldn't help but smile. Well, it was about time he reacted to her as something other than his partner. It would do him good to know that other men desired her. Maybe it would get him off his ass and make a move. Yeah, right, she scoffed to herself. This was David she was talking about. Still, it was something she'd have to ponder at bit more.

David went back to work though every once in a while his eyes strayed to the small boat growing smaller in the distance. Eventually when Isabelle's figure disappeared into the crowded marketplace, he gave up and returned to his charts, rubbing the sore spot on the top of his left foot absently.

A few minutes later the Rattler swayed in the water as someone came alongside and drew themselves up over the gunwale. It couldn't be Isabelle returning already, but David's heart beat a bit faster at the thought that it might be. Disappointment flared instead when Michael Fairfax came on board the ship.

"I thought she'd never leave," Fairfax muttered. "I grew tired of waiting for you at the bar, David. I've come to talk business. Something that concerns just the two of us."

Disappointment slipped into bitterness. It wasn't anything David wanted to deal with right now but it was best to get it out of the way, once and for all. David had a feeling that whatever it was that Michael Fairfax wanted to discuss, it was something that David had better listen to, just out of self-preservation if nothing else.

"All right. Let's talk."

He didn't make any pretense of bringing out refreshments; it wasn't a social call. Not any more.

Fairfax grabbed hold of the rigging and eased himself down on top of the cabin, hooking his heel on the edge. "You know your father is in ill-health."

"So you've said."

Ignoring David's disbelieving tone, Fairfax continued. "His last will and testament hasn't changed, has it, David? Once he's gone, the land will go up for auction and it will go to the highest bidder."

"Meaning you."

"Possibly. But it might not. I want to be assured it does."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to your father. Convince him to sell the land to me."

David gave a hollow laugh. "My father wouldn't listen to anything I have to say, especially about the land, and you know it."

"Perhaps not now, but if you come home, the prodigal son returning home, begging forgiveness..."

A well of fury bubbled up in David. "I have nothing to be forgiven for. It's my father's own stubbornness that put him in this position, not mine."

Fairfax slammed the flat of his hand down on the cabin. "Damn it, David! What's the difference? Two maybe three years away from your little paradise. Just long enough for you to make amends, your father to pass on, and for you to get the paperwork in order to sell the land to me. That's all I'm asking."

"Two or three years and I'll lose every shipping contract I've worked all this time to secure."

"You're going to lose the land!" Fairfax snarled.

"No. You are. I lost that land a long time ago and I have no regrets."

Fairfax stood, anger making his face flush a bright red. "You're a fool, David. I'll get the land, one way or another. I'd prefer we did this the civilized way."

"Civilized?" David repeated incredulously. "You're as conniving a son of a bitch as ever I've known, Michael. You've already undercut my father with the timber contract. You stepped over Isabelle and I to get Titchmarsh's cargo. You get any more civilized and it'll be barbaric!"

"I just want you to see the light of reason. I want you to go home and take care of the family business. I spent a great deal of money to come out here to try and arrange that."

"Then you've wasted it on a fool's errand. I'll not go home, especially not to convince my father to sell to you."

"You're an idiot if you think your father will ever see the light of day about his decision. He'll never do with it what you want him to."

"Then my father deserves to lose the land due to his own pigheadedness."

Fairfax was getting exasperated with David's noncompliance. "I'd pay you well for the ranch, David. Enough money to pay off Reed and get the Rattler back in your own name." At David's stunned expression, Fairfax smiled malevolently. "Yes, I know the truth about your arrangement. Really, David, I would have thought you'd have learned your lesson about women. They're always at the heart of your misery. Sell me the land and your ship can be yours again. The one woman that will never let you down."

David's gut was clenched so hard inside it was almost interfering with his breathing. Michael wasn't a sailor and it burned David to think that the man was trying to use such analogies just to sway him. To Michael, the Rattler was only a working boat and nothing more. He was a hypocrite. All David wanted to do was throw this man off the Rattler and pray that a large shark was lurking under the hull. Michael Fairfax was a different man than the friend of his wild youth. Or maybe his friend had always been like this and David had just refused to see it. He always tended to be too forgiving in nature. Obviously, a trait he had gotten from his mother. It certainly wasn't something of his father's. Pride swelled in him concerning his benevolent nature, regardless of what either his father or Michael thought of him, at least he had that.

"You've changed, David," Fairfax assured him.

"I think you have that backwards. You're the one who has changed. Now get off my ship."

"You're soft, David. You always were. You'll never be anything except a penniless bum. Your father was right about that." Fairfax returned to the side of the ship and settled unsteadily into the dinghy as David untied the rope. David gave him a good hard shove away from the Rattler.

For the first time in a long while, David felt as if he had cast off the burden of his past. He hadn't caved in to please others. He had faced those demons with a modicum of dignity. It felt good, very good.

***

The solid heels of Mrs. Titchmarsh's high-laced shoes rang across the church's wooden floor. It was not a pleasant sound nor did it belong in the sanctity of a church. At least that was Colin's opinion, for it heralded a most vile harpy. Immediately he begged forgiveness from a high a higher source for his judgmental attitude.

"Reverend Trent!"

Heaven help him, even her voice made him shudder.

"Reverend, I have a few matters to discuss with you. Where are you?"

Colin came out of the back, wiping his hands on a towel. "Mrs. Titchmarsh, how nice to see you." He hoped it came out sincere.

Her white-gloved hands casually brushed across a pedestal. Lifting them to her view, the specks of dust that dotted her fingers made her frown. Resentment welled inside of Colin.

"I have another list of items I would like to add to the social. It would help with the atmosphere." She held up a long piece of paper.

Colin almost wept as he took it from her. It was the second list in as many days. As much as he enjoyed planning the social, the constant additions to Mrs. Titchmarsh's list were getting on his nerves. Most of the items were almost impossible to get on the island. But telling her that would be like speaking to a dense coconut tree. "I'll see what I can do." When he failed, he could at least take solace in the fact that Mrs. Titchmarsh's disappointment would be at least a modicum of what his disappointment was in her behavior.

"You'll work miracles, I'm sure. That is your job, isn't it?" The woman's mocking tone was like nails on a chalkboard.

There was a loud thunk from the other room and then Lavinia's voice cursed in Polynesian. Mrs. Titchmarsh's mouth dropped open. Before Colin could say anything, Lavinia walked in carrying the cracked halves of a wooden vase.

"Colin, I'm afraid I broke this." She nodded at Mrs. Titchmarsh. "Hello."

Mrs. Titchmarsh merely stared stiffly at her.

Colin intervened. "Mrs. Titchmarsh, I'm sure you know Miss Lavinia Tumuto."

"Yes, I do." She barely offered Lavinia a perceptible nod. She then regarded Colin again almost immediately. "So nice to see you finding her suitable work here at the church."

Lavinia's dark eyes smoldered, as did Colin's but he kept his senses.

"Lavinia has very kindly offered to help with the social. She's doing a great deal in getting us ready."

"I see." Mrs. Titchmarsh turned her back on Lavinia and faced Colin, as if the young woman wasn't relevant at all. "You added another lamb to your flock. Excellent work."

Lavinia stepped back into the other woman's view. "Afraid not, Mrs. Titchmarsh. I'm doing it out of the goodness of my heart, not for the redemption of my soul."

The older woman's jaw line twitched radically. "A pity," she ground out. The woman could scarcely believe this slip of island girl was endeavoring to discuss such matters of the church with her. How dare she! She endeavored to ignore the rude native woman.

"Only if my soul was in jeopardy, which it isn't," Lavinia pointed out, making sure her point got across despite the fact that Mrs. Titchmarsh was attempting to disregard her. "My gods keep me very well protected and at peace. Redemption is solely for those in need."

"You're a very arrogant child," snapped Mrs. Titchmarsh. Would the woman's impertinent behavior never end?

"I like to think of myself as confident, that there is room for all kinds of beliefs and religions. No one way is the best."

"That's ludicrous. Isn't it, Reverend?"

Colin gritted his teeth. "As a matter of fact, I think Lavinia raises an interesting point. It is amazing the similarities that exist among the various religions of the world." He hoped that putting the discussion on a philosophical ground rather than on a moral ground would help alleviate the situation. To no avail though.

"Pure rubbish. I'm surprised at you, Reverend." She spun on him. "Perhaps the Bishop would like to hear about such thoughts coming from the man he placed in charge of converting the locals."

"You make it sound like a military operation," commented Lavinia. Mrs. Titchmarsh merely smiled.

Colin interceded. "I'm here to offer our beliefs to those who wish to embrace them, not to force them upon people content in their own ideals. There is no sin in not coming over to our faith."

Mrs. Titchmarsh's face grew beet red. It angered her because Mrs. Tumuto clearly had no desire to see the wisdom of Christianity. She blatantly flaunted her indifference to it and continued to preach her own ridiculous beliefs to their Reverend. It was utterly sinful the way she dressed and sashayed in the sanctity of the church.

Mrs. Titchmarsh stepped up to Colin, narrowing the distance between them and lowering her voice though Lavinia could still hear her loud and clear.

"Be careful in this venture, Reverend." Her eyes darted to Lavinia. "If you wish to use the locals for menial labor that is fine, but take care not to entertain other impious ideas."

The woman's meaning was crystal. Colin colored at the implications, not because of the impropriety of it, but because it was the truth. "I'll take that under consideration, Mrs. Titchmarsh. But thankfully the Bishop was wise enough to place me in charge of the mission. Perhaps for a reason. You need to have faith in his decisions and in mine."

"I have faith, Reverend. I'm just not so accommodating as some people I know." With that she stomped out of the church.

Colin breathed a sigh of relief.

"You shouldn't risk yourself that way, Colin," Lavinia commented. "She is a very powerful woman."

"Who is very blind to the ways of God and his mercies. It's my job to help her see those frailties."

"Not by protecting me. That will only lead to your dismissal from this missionary post. I don't want that, Colin. Not because of me."

Colin approached her and slid his hand across her cheek. "If there is one worthy mission in this world, it is too lose oneself in the wonders of other cultures and learn from them. Not dismiss them out of fear and ignorance. It only makes one stronger. You have shown me that."

Lavinia took his hand. "You are not what I expected, Colin Trent."

"What do you mean?"

"When I heard that there was to be a missionary posted here, I could only imagine what a hard nosed man they would send to try and convert us. You aren't that at all."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as such."

"I'm glad." He tore his gaze away from her, about to be lost in the coffee warmth of her eyes. He fumbled with Mrs. Titchmarsh's list. "Now let's see what other absurdities she has stuck us with."

***

It was a very late night as Mauriri Lepau walked home. He had been helping his cousin build an additional living section to their abode. With four children now to care for in the family space was at a premium. Mauriri didn't mind. He had been doing a lot of manual labor of late. The physical tasks seemed to keep his mind occupied. Lately it had been a harder and harder feat to keep his mind from straying to David and the Rattler. He was running out of things to build. This last one had come only after weeks of inactivity where his thoughts had often betrayed him. He considered his cousin's request a blessing, but now it was close to being completed and again he was left to wonder what else he could do.

He had to consider a new livelihood soon. The possibility of crewing on another ship was always viable but not something he wanted to do. It felt wrong; it wasn't like the way he felt when he sailed the Rattler with David. He knew it would never be the same no matter how long he worked. Crewing on a different vessel just wasn't the same as sailing her.

The Rattler was the ship of his dreams, the dreams of both David and himself. She may not have been very spry when they had first acquired her but hard work and lot of love and care had transformed her into a ship that could punch ahead of any gale. She had weathered a great deal and had always brought the two men safely home into the arms of the people who loved them. She never once complained; she always tried her best to keep her crew safe; she never once sank beneath the waves and left others to mourn. The Rattler would never permit that. She had watched over David and him with nothing but love and devotion. Tah-mey called her his wife. David considered her an angel. And Mauriri found her to be endowed with a strong spirit of a fierce warrior. There was a bond there that Mauriri found very difficult to break.

A noise attracted his attention for a moment as he passed by the first row of warehouses on the way into town. His home waited for him on the other side of Matavia, but he paused for a moment, listening. Perhaps there were smugglers at work tonight. A small part of Mauriri's heart beat faster at the thought of some derring-do. Giving a good thrashing to no account thieves harkened him back to the numerous times he and David had rousted similar crooks. He knew he shouldn't relish such moments but he did. He couldn't lie to himself as easily as he could lie to his friends.

He slipped into the shadows and made for the last warehouse on the row. A small flicker of lamplight shone through a window, indicating there was someone inside. When there was a painful cry, Mauriri moved faster, angling for a window set near the door. He skulked quietly over to the edge of it and peered in.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The dim light inside was not bright enough from that distance. There were also some equipment and boxes impairing his view. He craned his neck about looking for a good angle to see who was in there.

What waltzed into view stunned him.

Cannibal Jack and David Grief had their arms about each other and were attempting ... to dance. Only it was the most terrible dancing Mauriri had ever seen. His daughter could dance better than those two. A loud laugh escaped him and he spun back against the wood wall, praying that neither man heard him. Their hushed voices carried to him. They had stopped moving about.

Mauriri considered running back into the jungle but he knew he would be seen so he stayed where he was and waited. Then he heard David's voice again humming a soft waltz. Then their booted footsteps started again as they resumed dancing. Mauriri eased back around the corner.

David was trying to teach Jack to dance. Mauriri watched in fascination. It was long past midnight and David had secluded the lesson to this quiet warehouse. Jack's stumbling attempts attested to why. Mauriri tried to assemble all the facts in order to understand what the hell was going on in Matavia.

The church social was in just a few days.

Suddenly it all made perfect sense.

David's act of kindness startled Mauriri. He had forgotten just how deep David's sense of friendship and loyalty could run. That was David. He continually went out of his way in order to help someone out of a jam or a friend to achieve a small victory.

Mauriri's smile faded. His friend just couldn't admit when he gave that loyalty in error. That was what happened with Jenny Duvall. It didn't surprise Mauriri that David had stuck by her; it was his nature. But even when Jenny's criminal and murderous past was exposed, David still stuck by her, blindly, endangering everyone else in his obsession. Was it love or was it that he truly saw something that everyone else didn't? David had believed that Jenny could be good if only someone gave her a chance. His belief in that was what had driven him to the levels he had gone.

Mauriri had been on the receiving end of that loyalty many times and he had counted on it. He missed it now.

Jack cursed suddenly as David let out a strained yelp of pain. As often as Jack was assaulting David's feet, David was still patient and understanding, explaining what went wrong and then trying it again.

Apparently David had taken on the role of matchmaker in hopes of getting Claire and Jack together. A crazy plan but one with merit. One had to be blind not to see the growing attraction these last few months between the two of them. Despite Mauriri's ill ease about David during Isabelle's birthday party, he had taken the time to watch the way Claire and Jack had interacted.

Mauriri's smile returned. David's incredible willingness to be a friend was one of the man's endearing traits. It was that trait that Mauriri had recognized first when the two men had become partners and it wasn't long before their partnership had manifested into a strong friendship. Mauriri had come to count on that loyalty many times over the course of their acquaintance.

He looked again at David and Jack. Despite all the damage wrought by that wicked creature, Jenny Duvall hadn't been able to shatter that part of David.

A sense of relief swept through Mauriri.

David was teaching Jack a basic box step very common to the waltz, but Jack was still having problems with leading. David couldn't anticipate Jack's move and they crashed together. Jack's head was down, watching his feet and when he jerked his head up as they collided, his forehead slammed into David's nose. David's scream of pain rang clear.

"Sorry! Sorry," Jack insisted as David stepped away from him, cradling his near broken proboscis.

"You're not leading properly, Jack. Stop watching your feet."

"I'm trying but your big feet keep getting in the way."

"Well won't she be lucky then. Since Claire's feet are much smaller, maybe she won't be in as much danger from your heavy clomping, but somehow I doubt it." David's shoes showed a great deal of dust from where Jack had been stepping on them. He grabbed the lanky seaman's hands and pulled him close once again. "Now hold onto me like you mean it and waltz me around the damn dance floor!"

That did it. Mauriri let out a howl of laughter. He clamped a hand over his mouth as quick as he could but he knew he had given himself away. Without caring who heard, he ran for the safety of the trees.

The door behind him swung open and he could hear voices. Hopefully he was already embraced by the darkness and neither man could see past the light from the door.

"I heard something!" Jack insisted.

"It could have been anything," David tried to assure him. "Besides what does it matter? What's anyone going to say?"

"What could they say?" Jack repeated with incredulity "I could be the laughing stock of every vessel from here to the mainland!"

"You worry too much, my friend."

"And you don't worry enough!"

"Let's go back inside, all right? You're not leaving here tonight till you figure out how to lead."

Jack glared. "Tyrant."

"Worrywart."

"Woman."

David raised an eyebrow and commented wryly, "So are you if you don't learn to lead."

"Oh shut up."

The two men went back inside and Mauriri sagged against the tree he was hiding behind, letting his laughter bubble out of him finally. Lord, it had been a miracle he had held it in. He hadn't laughed like that in months. It had felt good, a release. Especially since it had involved David. Suddenly, his anger toward him seemed tiresome. Maybe the man had suffered enough, maybe they all had. It was good to see David giving of himself to his friends again, instead of wallowing in self-pity over someone who didn't deserve a speck of decency.

David's humming started again and Mauriri shook his head, fighting hard against a grin; in the end he failed and didn't care. Turning for home, he took the long way around, leaving David to his dancing lessons.


***

(continued in Part 3)

The Winds Of Chance       Part 1       Part 2       Part 3      

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