No Phantom of the Night - Part 3

The market was busy in spite of the early hour. Vendors sat their ware out on their shaded carts. They arranged fruits in jewel toned pyramids. On other carts were fresh caught shellfish covered with damp seaweed. Mauriri walked with a singleness of purpose towards the source of the rich smell of fresh ground coffee. The vendor, a tiny old woman with an elaborate tattoo on her chin, saw him coming. She poured a cup of the thick dark brew and held it out to him with a toothless smile.

"Hard night?' she asked in Tahitian.

Mauriri nodded and gripped the cup between his strong hands. Hard night indeed. Lianni, upset by Colin's announcement, had cleaned the house from edge to edge. Darkness had not deterred her. She washed every dish and chased dust out of corners until well after midnight. Mauriri and the children had huddled together on the edge of the porch and watched her.

"You look like hell," said David, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. He smiled at the coffee vendor who held a cup out to him.

"I feel it," said Mauriri with a groan.

"Did Lianni ever settle down?"

Mauriri raised both eyebrows in disbelief. "You must be kidding. As upset as she is, she will be on the Rattler by noon polishing the brass. Look," he said wearily, "I promised her I would find the Bishop and speak with him. I don't really think it will do any good but I have to try. Can we put off leaving until this afternoon?"

David took a gulp of the hot liquid and nodded. "That's good actually. I want to talk to Colin."

"He'll be at the school this time of day," said Mauriri, he glanced around the market. He acknowledged the greetings of other shoppers then he said, "Go easy on him, David. I think he is a lot more upset than he seemed to be yesterday. You know how he is, always worrying about the other person."

"I know. That's why I want to talk to him. See how he really feels about being sent away."

"If you ask me he will be more homesick in England for Tahiti than I was."

They stood silently for several minutes, drinking the rich dark brew. They didn't need to speak of their frustration at the situation. David and Mauriri were men who changed situations of which they didn't approved. By nature they were only loosely bound by rules; the sort of men who always ended up working for themselves. They simply couldn't understand how Colin could accept the Bishop's control over his life, over his happiness.

Mauriri drained his cup. He turned to look at David and asked, "Where did you go last night?"

"To Lavinia, she--"

"Coffee, please."

David broke off at the sound of Isabelle's voice. He noted that she was dressed for riding, a look that suited her very well. Her reddish hair was in a wild tangle that framed her pretty face. She looked not at him but at the old woman to whom she was holding out a tall pewter tankard.

"Good morning, Isabelle, did you have a good ride?" David asked, smiling at her.

She gave him a sidelong glance as if appraising him. "Yes. Aren't the two of you supposed to make a copra run today?"

"We were just talking about leaving this afternoon," answered Mauriri. "It won't put us behind schedule much."

"No, I suppose not," she said turning to accept her tankard and press a coin into the old woman's hand. Then she turned to her partners and after looking them both directly in the eye she said sharply, "I'm coming along."

David stopped his coffee cup in mid air. He looked at her closely. Why was she is such a wretched mood? He had never thought that she and Colin were particularly close; his leaving shouldn't upset her like this. "Fine," he said, putting as much welcome into his voice as he could manage. He was happy to have her on the boat, especially if she would cook. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he missed her when she wasn't with them.

"I'll see you at the boat, then." She said turning on her heel and walking back towards the stable rapidly.

"Did she seem--"

"Oh, yes," said Mauriri, nodding with a big grin on his face. "What did you do?" he asked; his dark eyes bright with mischief.

"I don't know," answered David slowly, still watching Isabelle. I haven't done anything, he thought, I haven't had time to do anything with all this uproar about Colin. He continued to keep his eyes on her straight-backed slender form until she disappeared under the arched entrance to the stables.

"Has she said anything about the day we gave her to the chief?" asked Mauriri, his glance following David's. "Maybe she is still angry about that."

David shook his head. "I've brought it up a few times. She just gives me that wicked smile of hers. She'll get her own back for that when we least expect it. This is something else but damn if I know what," said David, thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip. "You might want to get us an extra bag of coffee beans. I think we're going to need them.

***

"Soon I will be reading, Uncle Colin," said Tevaki. He was sitting next to Colin on a narrow bench. Colin held a slate on which he had just carefully printed a large letter M.

"Yes, very soon. Do you remember this sound?"

"Mmmmm for Mauriri like Papa. Already I know all the letters and what they sound like. I will read you the whole Bible. Every page."

Looking into the little boy's wide, dark eyes under the fringe of soft hair, Colin swallowed hard. "I'll look forward to that. I think that is enough for today. You go now and join the others."

The little boy stood and started to walk towards his teacher. He stopped and turned back. A bright smile lit his round face and he waved.

Colin returned the wave and did his best to give the child an encouraging smile. He stood for a few minutes near the edge of the pavilion that served as the school. He watched the children ranging in age from five to twelve grouped around their teacher, a young Polynesian man. Tahnee saw him watching, her smile was not so wide as her brother's. She had understood the conversation around the table the day before; she knew why her mother had been beating the rugs under the stars.

Colin nodded to her and mouthed, I'll see you later, then pointed towards the teacher. Tahnee directed her attention towards her teacher reluctantly.

The school was the accomplishment of which he was the most proud. There had been no school in Matavai. In years past the children had been taken away to be taught with other children from all over the island in a convent school in Papeete. It was a time honored way of educating the young, separating them from their families and their culture at an age when they were open to ideas. It was hard on the families, hard on the children. The school that allowed the children of Matavai to stay home was popular with the local people although Colin had often had to argue its benefits with his superiors.

He knew every one of the children. He knew their names, their ages, their families. He knew which ones had an easy time learning English and French, which ones loved numbers and who liked to draw. They were, in a way, his children. And they would forget him. Even Tevaki would forget him. It was just possible that Tahnee was old enough that she might hold on to some memory of him. Perhaps a song he taught her, yes, he would like to believe that she would remember one of their songs. But Tevaki was too little, for him Uncle Colin would become just the name of someone now gone.

Colin pressed his hand to his forehead. It hurt. He walked slowly back towards his house. He knew that it shouldn't matter that the children would forget him. What he had taught them would remain. That was what was important.

He looked ahead and saw David walking towards him with long, purposeful strides. Colin smiled sadly. He had been expecting David. He was gratified that his friends did not want him to leave but he knew that they understood he had little choice in the matter. Even Lavinia had accepted his announcement as the relaying of his Bishop's orders. But David, David simply wouldn't understand. For David the world was often divided between what he wanted to do and what he didn't want to do. It took a very strong sense of responsibility on David's part to get him to do what he didn't want to do.

How curious, thought Colin, that I would count a man like David Grief among my closest friends. He thought of boys he had known in school who might have grown into men like David. They had not been his friends. The best among them, athletic and self-confident, ignored him. He was a charity scholar; small, studious and poor he had no place in their world unless they needed a few pages of Latin translated. The worst had made his life a misery.

"Good morning, David," said Colin warily.

"Why are you letting the Bishop do this?' asked David forcefully by way of greeting.

A grimace passed over Colin's face, he squared his shoulders. "I'm not letting the Bishop do anything. The decision is his. He is doing what he believes is best for me and the church, I can't do anything but obey him."

"That's nonsense," exclaimed David, slapping his hand against his thigh for emphasis.

"David," said Colin rather sternly. He looked up at his friend's angry face. He was grateful for affection that made David take his part so strongly. At the same time that very partisanship on David's part would only make what Colin knew he had to do more difficult. "It isn't any different than taking an order from the captain of a ship. You've been a crewman; you know what that is like."

"Sure," conceded David grimly. "But when the voyage was over I left ships whose captains gave useless or dangerous orders."

Some emotion flickered over Colin's face that David couldn't decipher.

"Ah, but as long as I'm here I'm in the middle of the voyage. The church sent me here; they have put a roof over my head, clothes on my back and food in my belly. I have no choice."

"You do. I know you would hate it but you could choose to do just what they want you to do. They were happy with you in the beginning." David knew there was no chance of Colin doing such a thing. It would lack integrity but he had to suggest it.

"You mean when I spent my time where I belonged, inside the walls of the church or at the school. When I stood in front of my congregation and preached to them as if we were in Blackpool or London. Yes, even the Titchmarshs were happy with me then. Would that I could," said Colin with a wearily sigh.

"Why can't you? If it meant you could stay here where you are happy, why not back off a bit?"

"I suppose because I would feel a fraud. This isn't Blackpool or London; it is true there are a few among my parishioners who would be greatly comforted if I were to pretend that it is. No," he shook his fair head. "I couldn't manage it; I couldn't ignore what I've learned."

Colin started to walk and David fell into step beside him. They were quiet for several minutes. David was searching for someway of bringing Lavinia into the conversation that would not betray her confidences.

The path led them along the top of a sandy white beach. Colin glanced out at the bay. "Do you know what Cook said about these islands when he first saw them?" he asked softly.

"No." David frowned. The question seemed out of place, this was not the time for Colin to be teaching him history.

"He said that they were paradise," said Colin with a sad smile. "He said there was nothing Europeans could bring here that would be of any benefit to the Polynesians. He praised the people for being so welcoming and hoped that they would never regret he had sailed into their waters. Within twenty years missionaries came bringing with them everything Cook had believed the people here didn't need. I was brought up on the stories of such missionaries. How brave they were to risk the dangers of the sea and unknown lands to enlighten those who lived in darkness. I was humbled that the church thought me worthy to be one of them. I never dreamed that I would discover so much beauty, so much goodness, so much light."

Colin stared out at the clear water of the lagoon. The white sandy bottom almost glowed. A large ray was swimming with barely perceivable movements of its huge wings.

"I know that you love it here," said David softly. "What I don't understand is why you don't fight to stay. You said the Bishop was a reasonable man. If you can't do what they want you to do then convince them that what you are doing is right."

Colin laughed lowly, it was a bitter laugh. There was a flash of anger in his normally mild blue eyes. "Don't you think that I spent hours on Saturday trying to do just that? Explaining customs, showing him the children's stories. The poor man was horrified. You would have thought I'd offered him cannibal soup for lunch. That's why he wants to send me to the monastery. He wants me to listen, to pray, to immerse myself in our traditions. He agrees with those who think I have been seduced by paradise. He thinks that by going back to England, back to my studies, I will find what I have lost."

David looked down on him thoughtfully. There was so much vehemence in Colin's voice. "Colin, are you saying that you have lost your--" David was not religious. His mother had taught him the rudiments of the Christian faith and he believed them in a vague sort of way. When he was badly frightened like most people he prayed but most of the time he gave the notions of faith little thought. And yet the idea that Colin had lost his faith was chilling to him.

Colin looked up at David's face. What he asked himself was the emotion he saw in his friend's dark green-brown eyes. Apprehension? Fear? "My faith? No." He shook his head. "Although that is what the Bishop fears."

He gestured towards the craggy mountains that rose beside them. "How could I have lost my faith here where God's creation is so beautiful, where I have known so many people who understand the concept of brotherly love innately? No, I believe what I have always believed. If any thing my gratitude for the sacrifice of the Christ is greater than ever."

"Then what did you mean when you said what you'd lost?" asked David, his eyes narrowed with concentration.

Colin gave a slight shrug as if the answer should be obvious. "My zeal, my missionary zeal. The driving belief that I know the truth and that those who do not believe as I do are wrong. It is a powerful thing that zeal, it sends one to the jungle, to the desert, to places there is little hope of returning from. It will give one the courage to face any foe, no matter how powerful or dangerous. That was what I thought I had when I came here, that was what I thought I needed. But I was met by people who put flowers around your neck when you arrive, who invited you to share their meals. People who listen politely to what you have to say and then tell you their own stories. What I learned here was how little I knew of God's amazing creation."

"The Bishop thinks, you think that time spent in some drafty monastery on your knees is going to get back that zeal?"

"The Bishop may hope so. I know better. I know that it is gone."

"Then why are you --" David broke off and looked at Colin more closely. "You're going to quit. You aren't going to let them send you out again as a missionary. Are you?"

Colin's glance slid away from David evasively. Somehow he had forgotten how perceptive David could be when he was truly concentrating. He considered lying. He knew answering David's question honestly would lead to long explanations. Colin might omit information when talking to his friends; but he never lied to them. "No."

David took Colin by the arm and forced him to stop. When they were facing each other he said, "But you are leaving?"

"Yes, I must do as they ask," said Colin earnestly. "I may even spend some time at the monastery. Time spent in prayer is never wasted but I will never be able to tell people what to believe again."

He is who he is. A Christian missionary, his whole life dedicated to an ideal. Lavinia's words returned to David. He had argued with her and yet his own understanding of Colin was essentially the same. So what was he to think of what Colin just said? Who, if not a Christian missionary, did Colin see himself as? "What would you do?" asked David, watching his friend's face.

"Well, there are many parish churches in England. There is a tremendous need in the large cities. Real work to be done with those whose tradition is Christianity."

"Will they let you do that? You have always made it sound like the army; you had to go where they sent you."

"If they won't have me where I think I can do some good then I'll teach," said Colin, sounding far more confident than he felt. He wanted to reassure David that he was going to be all right. "I am a good teacher; there should be many jobs available to me in England."

David put his hands on his hips and stared down at Colin in disbelief. "You're joking, right? You can't be saying that you would let the Bishop send you away and then you would leave the church. That doesn't make any sense. You want to stay here. They have no right to send you away if you don't work for them."

"David, I have to go," said Colin patiently. "Were I to stay here in Matavai but not as the minister of the church it would undercut the mission of the church. I have too many valued relationships among the congregation, I fear they would not accept the next missionary were I still in the community."

"So you are going to fall on your sword for the good of the church," said David slowly, "for the good of a mission you don't believe in anymore."

Colin looked down at his heavy boots. "It isn't that simple," he said quietly.

"It sounds it to me."

"Well, it isn't," said Colin, looking up at David. There was challenge in his eyes. "Please don't say anything about my plan. I'm afraid that you caught me at a weak moment. I hadn't intended for anyone to know that I would not continue as a missionary."

"Why?" demanded David. His hands on his hips, he loomed over Colin. "Because someone sensible like Mauriri would talk you out of this?"

"I know that this is the right course," said Colin softly. "No one is going to talk me out of it."

David looked out to sea for a moment. "Why are punishing yourself? You didn't fail here."

"Not everyone would agree with you," said Colin as he rubbed his hand across his forehead. His head ached. All he wanted to do was go back to the house and lie down in the quiet. But he couldn't do that. He had too much to do. He looked up again at David and said, "Look, David, for me to stay would like a mutiny."

David bit his lower lip, his long fingers a tapped against his pants leg. He understood the metaphor but he didn't agree with its application. He decided to try another tack. "Colin, what about us? What about your friends?"

"Don't you see that's why I want my last few weeks here not to be consumed in arguments about my future? I want a store of good memories to add to those I have because I will miss you, all of you--"

"Including Lavinia?"

"La-Lavinia?" Colin glanced quickly at David's face. "Lavinia is a friend. A-a very good friend. David, you, you—my respect for you, for her, it--"

David looked down on Colin with his mouth agape. He cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Respect for me? What would I have to do with it?"

Colin shoved his hand through his crisp blond hair and looked down at his shoes. "I just meant that I hope that you know that I value all of my friendships."

David stood still for moment thinking. Colin continued to avoid looking directly at him. He took his spectacles off and carefully wiped them with his handkerchief.

"I won't let you hide behind me," said David in a low, somber voice.

"What?" Startled Colin turned to him.

"I won't let you do it, Colin." David's green eyes stared directly into Colin's.

"David, now I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. There is almost a commandment about it; something about not coveting your neighbor's wife. Of course Lavinia was never my wife but that wouldn't prevent you from treating our relationship with that level of respect. Bit cowardly on your part isn't it, you don't have to risk coming clean with Lavinia; you can just pretend you are being respectful of my feelings."

"Lavinia and I are friends, David," said Colin very carefully. He returned David's steady gaze. "I hate to leave her as I hate to leave all of you but my responsibility in this matter is to obey the wishes of Bishop Jameson. The church sent me here and it is their right to send me away."

"And what if--"

"There is no what if, David. Lavinia is my cherished friend; I don't know why you think I might harbor other illusions about her. I'm sorry I must go the Bishop is expecting me."

David knew their conversation was over. He glanced out over the quiet waters of the bay and blew his breath over his teeth. "Right. Look, we'll be gone for about a week." He turned back to look at Colin. "Promise you won't disappear while we're gone."

"I would never leave without saying a proper good-bye to you and Mauriri. That I can promise." He started to walk away, his feet leaving small craters in the soft sand of the upper beach.

"Colin, just one more question."

"Yes."

"It is the good things in our lives that come from God, right? Whether we deserve them or not, the good things are gifts from God."

"Absolutely," said Colin with an open smile.

"Then why the hell are you throwing Lavinia back in God's face." David turned on his heel and walked away with long purposeful strides.

***

David walked along the beach with no destination in mind. He was angry, angry with the Bishop for being such a fool that he would listen to a couple of shrewish women, angry with Colin for not fighting for what he wanted, angry with himself for not being able to help.

He looked up and took stock of where he was, Starfish Cove, a pretty little spot. Slightly inland sat Jack's hut in the shade of several tall palms. He suspected he could walk right in; Jack had no reason to lock it. He had nothing worth stealing.

Jack is another one, he thought, kicking a loose rock. Jack and Colin are a pair of self sacrificing idiots. Lavinia too.

He glanced ahead of him at the narrow point where the sea crashed against the rocks. There was a woman standing there. Her presence took him by surprise.

Claire stood near the edge, her long skirt swayed in the light breeze. Her wide brim hat dangled from her hand by its ribbons. She was looking out to sea.

"I'm afraid it is too soon to be looking for the Malahini. It is a long trip to China this time of year," he said as he came up behind her.

Startled she turned to him. Missing her footing on the rough rock she stumbled slightly. David caught her elbow and steadied her.

Claire blushed to the roots of her light brown hair. "Thank you. I was just enjoying the breeze. It is always pleasant here, no matter how hot it gets."

"Yes, it is a nice spot," agreed David. He smiled at her, wondering why she was acting as if he had just caught her doing something she shouldn't have been. Now that she wasn't working in the tavern David saw very little of Claire. It use to be she would come on Sundays to Mauriri's but recently she had only come twice, both times because Mauriri had extended an invitation to Gilles Bradford to come and play football. Yesterday she had come because Colin had wanted her there when he made his announcement. "Actually I'm glad I ran into you. Have you seen Isabelle today?"

"We rode this morning," said Claire with an answering smile. She stepped away from the edge of rock. She placed her foot carefully on the rock's water slick surface. "Why do you ask?"

David shrugged, he moved with confidence over the rocks. He stayed ready to help her if she lost her balance again. "I was just wondering how she seemed to you. When I saw her she was out of sorts. I thought maybe you knew the reason."

Claire thought of her conversation with Isabelle and considered how she could answer that wouldn't break a confidence. She was curious about exactly what Isabelle had seen at the tavern the evening before. She supposed she couldn't come right out and ask David why he was going into Lavinia's bedroom. "Oh, yes, well, we are all distressed about Colin," she said somewhat evasively.

"Absolutely, but, and I realize this is a rare thing for me to be able to say," he said with his disarming smile, "but nothing about Colin's situation is my fault." And I might add if the idiot would listen to me I could make his situation a hell of a lot better.

"True enough."

"So why did Isabelle take my head off this morning?" he asked, watching Claire's face closely. "I hope she isn't having problems with Seraut."

Claire's brown eyes glanced at his face and then away. She put her hat on her head and very slowly tied the wide ribbon under her chin. Finally she said, "Are you not in favor of her partnership with Seraut?"

David shrugged his wide shoulders. "It isn't up to me. She is free to partner with anyone she wants."

"Yes, of course," said Claire softly as she started to walk towards the town.

David fell into step beside her. One of the chief differences he realized between Claire and Isabelle, or Lavinia for that matter was how everything showed on her face if she wasn't making an effort to hide her feelings. Even then he wasn't sure she was always successful. Isabelle and Lavinia were both skilled at turning wide-eyed stares on their questioners that gave nothing of their thoughts away. Although this ability served them well, and for that matter had come to his aid when they had secrets of his to keep, David did find it trying at times.

There was something rather sweet about the openness of Claire's countenance, about how close her feelings were to the surface if one really took a look at her. Too sweet for him, he thought ruefully, he had a penchant for mysterious women. "You don't like Seraut, do you, Claire?"

Claire turned her head to look at him from beneath her thick lashes. She was dismayed. She found nothing sweet about how easily her feelings were read on her face and in her voice. Her transparency caused her endless problems among the more conservative members of the community. At times she resorted to saying over and over in her mind 'if you haven't anything nice to say, say nothing' to get her through an afternoon tea. At other times it took all of her concentration not to let her thoughts wander in some forbidden direction lest it should show on her face. "Why would you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know. A certain lack of enthusiasm in your voice. It isn't like you, when you like someone you're their champion."

"You mustn't go by me, David, I'm not a very good judge of character," she said as she lifted her skirt to keep it from being dampened by a wave. "Gilles is very fond of him and he has known him far longer than I have. I don't dislike him. He has always been a gentleman towards me but perhaps I find him a little cool. What is important is that Isabelle likes him or she wouldn't have invested her money with him. Actually, I think she is very excited about the vanilla plantation."

"Well, if she is willing to wait the return on her investment could be very good."

"You know, that's really quite important that she is willing to wait for her investment to pay off," said Claire eagerly. She had a nagging dread in the back of her mind that Isabelle would decide to leave Tahiti one day. Claire was in favor of absolutely anything that tied Isabelle to the island. "It must mean that she is happy here, planning to settle and build a life. I think in the past she has always kept her bags packed so to speak."

David chuckled, "If I understand correctly about her past that was because a policeman was likely to knock on her door at any minute. So she didn't say anything to you about being angry with me about something? It really isn't like her not to tell me what I've done to upset her."

Claire took a deep breath and forced all speculation about his relationship with Lavinia out of her mind. "David, I think that is a question best answered by Isabelle but there is something I want to say to you on the subject. I hope you won't feel that I am interfering."

"Truth to tell, I could use a little help understanding Isabelle." And if anyone could give him that help, he thought, it would be Claire.

"But you do want to understand her?" she asked, stealing a glance at his face. She saw puzzled interest in his green eyes.

"Yeah," answered David, drawing the syllable out. "It is helpful to understand one's business partners."

"Business partner," she repeated softly. "Is that all Isabelle is to you, David?"

David rolled his shoulders unconsciously, a habitual gesture when he was uncomfortable emotionally. "Well, we're friends, of course."

Claire stopped walking and looked out over the turquoise water of the bay. "Everyone is always saying how I have such a romantic nature. Perhaps I do see romance where there is none."

David looked down at her with thoughtfully pursed lips. Had she always been this hesitant to speak her mind? he asked himself. "Claire, I'm not following you."

She turned to look at him. "Then let me say it straight out. David, if you want Isabelle to fall then she must be certain that she can trust you to catch her."

"To fall," repeated David slowly. The frown lines of his forehead growing more pronounced. "As in to fall in--"

"See here," said Claire quickly, twisting the ribbons of her hat around her fingers; the faint blush rising again into her cheeks. "I'm not trying to match make. Truly I'm not. My history proves how faulty my judgment can be in matters of the heart. But for all her bravado Isabelle's heart is as breakable as anyone else's."

"Yes, of course it is. Claire--"

"I just want her to be happy," said Claire fiercely.

David leaned down and looked at her more closely under her hat brim. There were tears in her large brown eyes. "Hey, of course you want her to be happy. Are you all right?" he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek gently.

"Yes. I'm sorry, David," she sniffed. She gave him a weak smile. "This business with Colin has been so upsetting."

"For all of us," he agreed.

"I'm a bit overly emotional this morning," she said apologetically " All I meant to say was that just because Isabelle is very brave; just because she can take care of herself in a fight; it doesn't mean that her feelings are-oh, I don't know what word I want." She put her hand to her forehead. This is important. Why can't I find the right words?

"Claire, are you trying to tell me that Isabelle--"

"I'm not trying to tell you anything really," she said earnestly. "It isn't my place but I wish the two of you would take a chance."

"A chance on what?" he asked nervously.

"On each other."

"Ah," David swallowed hard. That was the problem with talking to women. They didn't shy away from the heart of the matter. Mauriri had hinted that he appeared to be jealous over Seraut. Colin had insisted that he saw Isabelle for who she really was. But it was Claire; with her great tear filled eyes and tremendous voice who was calling him a coward. "Well, Claire, I've taken a few chances in my time. They didn't work out all that well."

Claire felt for him. She thought perhaps she could understand why he hesitated to risk his heart again. David was a big, strong, handsome man but his heart like Isabelle's was vulnerable. "So now you want to play it safe with Isabelle?"

"Well." He looked out at the sea and said, "If there is something you want to tell me about Isabelle..."

"No!" cried Claire in frustration. "I want you to risk it. My Lord, you and Isabelle risk your whole futures on games of chance, on the weather every time you take the Rattler to sea. All I'm suggesting is that you open yourselves up a little to each other."

David tried to close his mind to the echoes of his conversations with Lavinia and Colin. Hadn't he suggested to them that they do the same thing?

He stood silently looking down at Claire. He was fingering the cleft in his chin nervously.

Claire sighed. "Look here, David. Isabelle is a beautiful woman, and more than that she is clever, with a very good heart. She isn't going to wait around forever. I'm not saying she is interested in more than a business relationship with Seraut but someday there will be someone."

David could think of no response and so he stayed quiet. Claire didn't appear to expect a response. Her message was clear. If he wanted more than a friendship with Isabelle then he was going to have to make some sort of move to advance their relationship. Did he want more than a friendship with Isabelle? A hundred memories assailed him at once. Isabelle, her tongue caught between her teeth as she dug a bullet out of his shoulder. The look of hope in her eyes when she realized he had come for her when she was in prison; her determination to win during the race and her exhilaration when they won. And one memory, clearer than all the others, the memory of the night he'd been rescued from hell. He could see her standing on the deck of the Rattler dripping wet. He remembered how badly he needed to hold her. The question he realized had been answered long ago.

Although it presented no challenge for his long legs, Claire walked rather swiftly along the shore. Lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice that her eyes strayed towards Jack's hut as they passed. They walked most of the distance back to town in silence. Just as David was about to say good bye, Claire spoke softly without looking at him.

"Did you have a look at him? Was he alright?"

Still preoccupied with his own thoughts, it took David a moment to realize what she was asking. So, he thought, she does still care about Jack. "Yes, he was banged up but he is tough."

"Thank you, David." She turned to walk away.

"Claire?"

She turned back, an uncertain smile on her pretty face. "Yes?"

What could he say to her? He'd promised Jack he would not give his game away. After all it was possible Jack was right, that Claire deserved better than he would ever be able to give her. Even David could understand that Gilles Bradford was an advantageous match for any young woman. Don't go messing about in their lives, you've got problems enough to solve.

He shook his head and smiled. "Nothing. Take care; we'll see you when we get back."

"Safe journey."

Rubbing his hand over his rough chin David watched her go. It seemed to him that as she neared the busy street she squared her shoulders and lifted her head, as if she were preparing herself for what was ahead.

David shook his head and dismissed Claire from his thoughts. He turned his steps towards Mauriri's house. They would have to put their minds to it if they were to be ready to sail by high tide.

***

Isabelle finished the few dishes they had used for dinner and put them carefully away in the trunk that served as the galley on the Rattler. They took turns with the cooking and the cleaning up. She didn't mind taking her turn as long as the rest of them did as well.

She climbed to the deck and stood for a moment enjoying the night breeze. It was a steady wind, easy sailing. It was good to be at sea. She hadn't planned to come on this short trip but she was glad that she had given into the impulse to join them. It was satisfying to work together on the boat. Since the yacht race they had developed a rhythm that she fell easily into when she was on board.

Tah-Mey was at the helm. Sparrow was sitting on the rail, smoking his pipe. The sweet smell of tobacco wafted towards her on the night air. Mauriri was sitting on the roof of the cabin looking forward. David was lounging there. Isabelle saw him take a sip from a brandy bottle. She joined them with out a word. She sat with her knees drawn up; resting her chin on her folded arms. For the moment, everything was done; everyone could rest and enjoy the quiet.

David touched Mauriri's arm with the brandy bottle. Mauriri turned to him slowly, took the bottle and put it to his lips. Then he passed the bottle to Isabelle.

"You alright, Mo?" asked David. "You're being awfully quiet."

Mauriri shrugged his big shoulders. "I was just thinking we really ought to pay more attention to the good times."

"What's that mean?"

Mauriri didn't respond immediately. When he did his voice was low and sad. "There was a day a while back, not long after we found you, it was a Sunday. Atara had just received a football from a friend in France. We all played on the beach. Atara, other boys from the village, you, me, Colin, Jack. The women were fixing the meal. The kids were watching us, laughing and cheering. Everyone healthy and together."

"Yeah, I remember that day, I was sore for a week afterwards. I remember Jack stealing the ball from me by taking it off his head." David laughed.

"It was such a good day. I'd never seen Jack that relaxed, that happy, that ready to join in. I thought he and Claire would be married by Christmas."

"Yeah, well," said David sadly. He and Mauriri both knew Jack had his reasons for breaking things off with Claire. It didn't matter whether they thought they were good reasons or not. "It's not like it is our last good day. There will be more."

"Not with Colin," said Mauriri softly.

"No." David picked up the bottle that sat between them and drank from it.

Isabelle sat silently with her cheek resting against her knee. The wind was lifting her thick hair from her neck, a light spray hitting her skin and cooling her. She listened carefully to them, lulled by their deep voices. She was a little surprised at how sad they both sounded

"I thought when I met Colin he was just like all the other pommie missionaries. Self righteous and full up of book learning," said David, stretching out his long legs. His foot came to rest against her back.

"You met him at our house over a meal right?"

"Mm, yes, I certainly didn't meet him in the church."

"You and Lavinia practically---" Mauriri broke off with a laugh.

"Well, you know, Lavinia finds good sport in shocking missionaries. If a beautiful woman wants to eat her dinner sitting in my lap, who am I to complain?" said David with a hint of laughter in his voice.

What else is in his voice? Isabelle asked herself. Does he miss Lavinia? Is he anxious to get back to her?

"He was shocked."

"Yeah," David chuckled and looked up at the night sky. He thought about that day nearly five years before when they met. Short and bespectacled, Colin had worn a dark suit and his starched dog collar. He was so polite, calling Lianni and Lavinia Mrs. Lepau and Miss Temuto. Sincerity rolled off of him in waves, as did the sweat. He was exactly what David expected a minister to be and therefore of no interest to him

"I remember him asking questions," said Mauriri. "Maybe that's why I liked him so much right from the beginning. I've known missionaries all my life; I can't remember any of them asking questions, any of them listening to one of us."

"Strange isn't how things change. I walked away that night barely able to remember his name. What did I care who the local missionary was? Now I hate the thought of him not being there in the church. Somehow it puts my whole world out of whack."

"We ought to be able to do something about this, David."

David blew his breath out through his teeth. "I know but I don't know what. He says it is like the army, he's been given an order and he must obey it.

They lapsed into silence, until finally Isabelle heard the solid thump of Mauriri's bare feet hitting the deck.

"You've got the first watch," said Mauriri to David. "Good night, Isabelle."

"Good night, Mauriri," she responded drowsily.

After the soft thud of Mauriri's footsteps was lost in the sound of the wind in the sails and creaks of the ship's timbers, David said, "You've been very quiet. Everything all right?"

"I was just listening, wondering."

"Wondering about what?"

Her head still on her knees, she turned slightly to look at him. He lay propped on his elbow. It was too dark for her to make out his expression but she could feel his interest.

"I was wondering about your friendship with Colin. What makes it so important to you?"

David sat up a little straighter. He looked up at the dark sky. Dark blue gray clouds blew in ragged formations across the deep starry black. "Why wouldn't it be important to me?" he asked. "Colin is a good man. I'm lucky to have him as a friend."

"Yes, but you have so little in common. For Mauriri there is the church, how passionate Lianni is about it and the fact that Colin has taught his children. And they share an interest in literature and music."

"Ah, but for an uncultured brute like me."

"Come on, David, you know what I mean."

"Yes, but I might say the same of you and Claire. What do the two of you have in common?"

Isabelle laughed. "A question I suspect Mrs. Russell torments herself with daily. But in fact we have quite a lot in common. We are both young, beautiful," she said with emphasis, "white women trying to run businesses on our own."

"Ah." There was laughter in his voice when he said, "so I should have friendships with other handsome captains, is that it?"

Isabelle smiled but said thoughtfully, "You're right, of course. There is a great deal more to it than that. Claire isn't afraid to care about me, isn't afraid to trust me. I like that. And I like that she is so interested in everything. That even when she is afraid she's always loyal. I admire her; I admire her courage and her determination."

"She admires much the same about you, I should think," said David, reaching for the brandy bottle. He took a swig and held it out to her. Her words echoed in his mind. Claire isn't afraid to care about me, isn't afraid to trust me. Was this the time to say, I'm not afraid to care about you, Isabelle, I'm not afraid to trust you. If he said it would be true? And would the reverse be true. Would she really be able to trust him?

"Maybe, I just know I want her to be happy. And I'm sure she will be; her future is looking very promising." Isabelle sat up straighter as she reached for the bottle. She stretched out her neck and rolled her shoulders before she brought the bottle to her lips.

"You look like you hurt."

"Well, someone insisted I help load copra double time this afternoon."

"Yes, well, sorry about that. There was such a fair wind blowing I didn't want to waste it." He moved towards her, "Come here. Let me see if I can work out a bit of that stiffness for you."

Isabelle let David settle her between his knees. She dropped her head forward as she felt his long fingered hands slide under her hair. She winced slightly as he applied pressure to her tightly bunched muscles.

"You didn't answer my question about Colin," she mumbled, her head still forward on her chest.

"About what we have in common? Not very much. In fact I suppose I would have to say our friendship is based on not being alike. Where I rush into something like a complete fool, Colin is thoughtful, deliberate. When I think only of myself, he is thinking of everyone else."

"You're being too hard on yourself, David."

"Maybe," he conceded as he massaged her bare upper arms. So close to her he could smell the coconut oil she used on her hair mixed with the scents of the sea. He breathed deeply. "If that is true it is in part because I've learned from Colin. He always listens. He makes few judgments, when he does they are always kind. I suppose you could say he has been my conscience. And you know I don't even know how it came about. Why or when I decided to go to Colin when I had something I needed to talk out, when I need a perspective different than mine or Mo's. I just know it has become a habit I wish I could keep."

Isabelle felt her body relax under the gentleness of David's firm touch and the influence of the brandy. She kept talking, hoping to distract her thoughts from what else she felt. "I don't understand all of this mess over that poor fellow's death. Colin may be naïve but he isn't stupid. He had to have known when he defied Bradford over the father taking the body that there was going to be trouble. He handed that old witch Titchmarsh a spar to beat him over the head with."

"But being Colin he couldn't do anything else. He had to do what was best for Omai's family."

"What about since then?" asked Isabelle. "He's been stupid about the white community. According to Claire even Mrs. Russell is sorry to see him go. If he had done what they wanted, said he was moved by Omai's family's grief. . ."

"You're right," conceded David, his strong fingers kneading the muscles at the base of Isabelle's skull. " All he had to do in order to stay here where he is happy is stop ruffling the broody hens' feathers. In fact if he were discreet I suspect he could have his heart's desire."

Isabelle found the phrase an odd choice. She had no idea what Colin's heart's desire might be although it sounded as if David had a pretty strong idea. "So why didn't he do just that?"

"Because," said David slowly as he finally started to appreciate what Colin had been trying to tell him. "Because he has the courage of his convictions. He truly believes he did the right thing in regards to Omai's body. He respects the culture of the people here and he thinks that there is as much of God's work to do along the waterfront as in the church. I suppose that it is what I admire most about him. His courage and his compassion."

"Hell, of a lot of good it did him or us. He'll be back in England by the end of next month."

"Too right," said David, suddenly aware of how pale her slender neck was in the darkness of the night. He could, he thought, pull her closer. He could slide his hands down until they were around her waist then he could pull her in to his lap properly. He could—David forced his thoughts in another direction. Not here, not now with Tah-Mey so close by at the helm. She deserved, they deserved more than a quick fumbling under the cover of darkness.

For a moment Isabelle had surrendered to the hope that the desire she felt was reciprocated. She'd felt his breath warm on her skin as he leaned closer to her. She'd felt a change in his touch, lighter like a caress. She was about to turn her head, to seek his mouth with her own, to let the warm night and brandy break down what few barriers were still between them.

Then he sat back, breaking contact with her skin. She remembered another time when she had surrendered to desire. His rejection had been firm. She wouldn't risk that again and given what she'd seen at Lavinia's door that was exactly what she was risking.

"How did your shoulder stand today?" she asked, reaching again for the brandy. There were a few swallows left. She felt she deserved them.

"A twinge now and then. Not bad," he said, unconsciously raising his right hand to rub the left shoulder. He saw her stifle a yawn and said, "You should sleep. You look done in."

"It is so hot in the cabin."

"Stay here. Just lay back, look up at the stars and fall asleep," he said as the memory of Claire's words came back to him. She must be certain she can trust you to catch her.

Isabelle told herself she followed his advice because it was too much trouble to find her way down to her bunk. But she knew it was really because she didn't want to walk away from him. Just as she was falling asleep she thought she felt his fingers soft against her face, gently pushing her hair back. She thought she heard him say, "You can trust me to catch you."

***

"It's a steep climb but I promise the little ledge at the top is worth it," said Lavinia brightly as she looked back over her shoulder at Colin.

It had been two weeks since Colin's announcement. He would leave in three days. His books were packed; he'd preached his last sermon. The ladies' board had given him a reception; it had been well attended by whites and Polynesians. Everyone had been polite, they wished him well. The Titchmarshs made no effort to keep the smirks of satisfaction off their faces. Mrs. Bradford made a tremendous effort to hide the considerable pain she was in as she thanked him for all the good he had done. Mrs. Russell, a sad and reserved Claire by her side, told him repeatedly how good she thought it was that he was going on retreat. His spirit would be refreshed she told him. Through it all Colin had smiled, shaken hands and thanked everyone for their good wishes.

He'd made a round of visits to the families of the children in the school. He had done his best to reassure them that the new missionary when he came would support the school. He told them that they would always be in his prayers. He accepted with gratitude small tokens he was told would protect him on his journey.

Colin had spent days with Lianni and Mauriri talking. He promised to send Lianni music for the church and books to Mauriri. He walked for hours along the beach listening to Tahnee and Tevaki talk about the future. They would come and see him they promised, they wanted to see trees that turned colors all at once. They wanted to taste snow and walk over the London Bridge.

David attempted to talk to him but Colin would firmly end their discussion almost before they started. He knew that David was frustrated with his attitude but he simply had no choice. The veiled suggestion that David seemed to be making about Lavinia was not something he could allow himself to think about. If for a moment he thought Lavinia would miss him as more than a friend he knew whatever dignity he had managed to maintain would desert him.

He and Lavinia did not talk of his leaving; they would eat lunch together on the seaside porch of the tavern. Colin would read mail and write letters for the sailors as he had in the past. In the afternoons they worked quietly side by side for an hour or so on the little house behind the tavern. Slowly it became clean and bright with their efforts. It smelled of varnish, white wash and sandalwood. Lavinia hung brightly colored drapes of cotton in its doorways. Colin rebuilt the pump in the kitchen so that cool water flowed almost at a touch. Lavinia did not say what she planned to do with the house, Colin didn't ask her plans.

Today he and Lavinia had packed a lunch of bread, cheese, fruit and wine into a rucksack. They had walked along the edge of a sparkling creek, up through the thick trees. She told him she was taking him to a place she used to go as a child. She hadn't been there in many years but it was very beautiful and she wanted him to see it.

It was the one thing he wanted. A day alone together, a memory he could preserve forever.

He looked up at her and wished with all his heart he had a camera or better yet that he was an artist who could capture her beauty and that of jungle surrounding them. Lavinia's thick black hair was plaited into a loose braid threaded with a red ribbon. She wore a blue and green sarong with the tailing ends pulled through her legs and tied around her waist. She'd taken off her sandals and was climbing the almost vertical path.

Why, he would never be able to say but the sight of her slender leg and foot with her strong brown toes curled over a black rock nearly undid his resolve. Suddenly he wanted to reach for her and never let her go.

"Colin, are you coming?" she asked a wide smile on her dark face.

"Yes, of course," he said. He readjusted the pack on his pack and followed her up the steep path.

The little ledge was beautiful. The stream tumbled over a waterfall next to it; on the ground was a thick mat of emerald grass. It was the most perfect and private place for a picnic he could imagine.

They ate with out saying much. Colin was content to simply to be with her.

"Lianni seemed pleased with the reception on Sunday. She said it was well attended," said Lavinia as she poured wine into a glass. She handed it to him.

Colin accepted the glass with a smile. "The ladies worked very hard to make it pleasant. I wish you had come."

"I think it was better that I stayed away. Lianni wanted it to be a celebration of your work here. If I had been there I'm sure I would have had a few choice words for some of the ladies like Mrs. Titchmarsh and Mrs. Russell."

Colin frowned. He wanted a prefect day, a day with no cross words or disagreements. But he could not go against his nature. "Lavinia," he said softly, "they are not the same. Mrs. Titchmarsh is mean spirited. You are correct that she wants me gone because I don't suit her. But Mrs. Russell believes that I will benefit from a sabbatical. You and I may disagree with her but her motive is not self centered."

Lavinia pressed her lips together and glared at him. Colin's heart sank.

"I know that it is difficult for you to understand Mrs. Russell."

"That's what Claire would say. Poor Mrs. Russell is so far from home," said Lavinia bitterly. "Why didn't she just stay home?"

Colin looked down at the glass he held in his hand. The red wine glowed in the light of the sun. If only they could just drink the bottle of wine. If only he could ask her to tell him one of the island's old myths. That was what he wanted from this day.

He looked up at her. He saw that her dark eyes were wary. There was a slight tension in her shoulders as if she was waiting for him to say something she could instantly disagree with. No, he thought, there is no reason to spoil our day with topics we can not agree upon.

He took a sip of his wine and tried to think of a harmless topic they could talk about. Everything suddenly felt false. He and Lavinia had never shied away from an argument. Her first words to him had been a challenge. Over the years they had argued about many subjects; through their arguments he had learned much. He believed that she too had benefited from their discussions. Lavinia was one of those people who did their best thinking within a discussion. She needed to speak her thoughts aloud in order to judge them.

He felt they weren't really talking about Mrs. Russell, after all no one really expected Mrs. Russell and Lavinia to discover common ground. They were talking about Claire, or more to the point they were talking about Lavinia's disappointment in Claire.

Colin pursed his lips thoughtfully. They had attempted to talk this problem out before. In the past they were always interrupted or Lavinia would withdraw saying that Claire had made her choice and there was nothing more to say. This would be his last opportunity to help her. The breach between Claire and Lavinia hurt them both. If this time they could talk it all through, if this time Lavinia could say what she felt and stay to listen to what he could tell her about why he thought Claire had done what she had done, maybe he could lay the foundation for their reconciliation in the future. That, were he able to manage it, would be his last and greatest gift to her, fore he knew that she mourned her lost closeness with Claire.

"There have been some good results from Mrs. Russell's visit," said Colin softly.

Her shoulders growing more rigid, Lavinia glanced at him. He was sitting cross legged as she was; their lunch was spread out between them. His fair head was bent and he was staring intently at the wine glass.

She knew that soft voice meant he was prepared to argue his point. It had been true from the beginning. Colin never shouted her down, never pounded the table with his fist to make his point. He never reminded her of the stern nuns and missionaries of her childhood who by the sheer volume of their voices would claim their superior position over her. A position she never conceded to them.

So, she thought, we will end as we began, still challenging each other.

"Good results? How can you say that when she is part of the reason you are being sent away?"

"She is a very small part of the reason. My position here was already precarious. I'm talking about the support her presence has given Mrs. Bradford in her declining health. There is the work she has done with the children in the school, she is a good teacher. And she has given Claire a great deal of help with the paper. You once said that Claire was wearing herself out with the paper, at least with Mrs. Russell looking out for her Claire is a bit healthier."

"Look, Colin," said Lavinia sharply, "I understand that Claire loves Mrs. Russell, and for good reason Mrs. Russell treats her like a cherished child. You may be right that she has been of great help to Claire in her work, but you have to admit from the very first day Mrs. Russell had two goals. One to get Claire out of the tavern and away from whatever influence she thought Isabelle and I had over her. And two was to get Cannibal Jack out of Claire's life. She accomplished both of them."

Colin considered pointing out that Isabelle was still an important part of Claire's life. He decided that Lavinia might feel criticized by such an observation as it might suggest that Isabelle was a better friend to Claire. Although his intention was to have her talk about her relationship with Claire, he chose to address the second issue instead. "Do you really think that Jack ended their relationship because of something Mrs. Russell did?"

"Oh, Colin, you can't think that Mrs. Russell would have stood by and watched Jack and Claire grow closer. Claire was completely," she paused, gesturing wildly with her slender hand. "What is that silly phrase about heels?"

"Head over heels in love."

"Yes.," she answered, nodding her dark head. "Claire was talking about marrying Jack. I think she knew exactly what kind of life he could offer her and she wanted it. She wanted Cannibal Jack. Mrs. Russell had to get rid of him; he was even more unacceptable than me."

Collin cocked his head to the side and said thoughtfully, "Do you know this for a fact?"

Lavinia looked away from him towards the waterfall. "For a fact no," she said softly. Then she looked back at him and said firmly, "But it is the only thing that makes sense. You saw Jack after the accident on the wharf. All he cared about was Claire's well being. He would never have hurt Claire by breaking things off if Mrs. Russell hadn't pushed him into it."

Colin took a deep breath and considered what she'd said. "It wouldn't even have been difficult," he said sadly. "I remember inviting Jack to that birthday dinner for Isabelle. He behaved as if I had bestowed some great honor on him. He'd have been putty in Mrs. Russell's hands if she was telling him he had to let Claire go for her own good. I suppose I should have realized that was what had happened. Once again Mrs. Russell acted in what she thought was Claire's best interest."

Lavinia had a clear memory of a conversation she had had with Claire during her relationship with Jack. In it Claire had made clear the depths of her feelings for Jack and her belief in him. Had Claire come to her when Jack broke off the relationship Lavinia would have told Claire her suspicions about Mrs. Russell's part in Jack's actions straight out. But Claire hadn't come to her because at the time they weren't speaking at all. She recognized Claire had been badly hurt by Jack's seemingly callous rejection. Although Lavinia felt her anger with Claire was completely justified she still hated to see Claire hurt so badly.

Colin sat quietly for several minutes. He absently folded his napkin in to smaller and smaller squares. Finally he took a deep breath and said, "Here is what I think, for what it is worth. You are correct about Mrs. Russell. When she came here and saw the tavern, heard stories about you, about Isabelle and about Jack, she panicked. She felt that Claire was in danger, moral danger. In her own mind she was saving Claire. In small ways Claire was willing to let her have her own way, manner of dress, a few more afternoon teas and social events in the established white community. Claire told me that she was sure that Mrs. Russell would realize that her mortal soul was not endangered by her life here and once she had realized that she would learn to admire Claire's friends."

"How could she think that that woman would ever be that tolerant?"

"She thought that you could be that tolerant," said Colin gently.

"Are you accusing me of being intolerant?" demanded Lavinia. Her dark eyes were bright with anger.

Colin stifled a sigh. One of the many things he loved about Lavinia was that she wasn't afraid to show her emotions. If only it was some other emotion she was exhibiting now. He had to keep to talking. It wouldn't do for them to stop now before they had worked their way to some sort of consensus.

"I think that Claire may have believed that you, Jack and the rest of us would realize that Mrs. Russell wasn't speaking for her. She thought there would be time for Mrs. Russell to learn. It is not reasonable to expect you to see Mrs. Russell as Claire sees her. Mrs. Russell is a good woman. She means well. Lavinia, I have observed this woman working with children. I've talked to her. I know that her motives are well meaning. I understand why you find her behavior objectionable. But my point is that Claire got caught between the two of you. No matter what she did she was going to disappoint one of you."

Lavinia wanted to shout that Claire should have disappointed Mrs. Russell but she recognized how childish that would sound. She closed her eyes briefly and said more calmly, "It doesn't matter now anyway, when I last saw Gilles he was full of plans for the future, plans that included Claire. Even if I wanted us to be close again we couldn't be now. Once she is Mrs. Bradford she'll be crossing the street to avoid me just as Gilles's mother did to avoid my godmother who was her own half sister."

Colin looked at her closely; he saw the sadness in her face. He saw as well the shadow of the past. That he thought suddenly was the piece of the puzzle he had been missing. Lavinia's fury at Claire over moving out of the tavern and in with her godmother had seemed out of proportion. But it made a sort of sense if it was a reflection of past hurts. "I don't believe that Claire would ever be such a person, Lavinia," said Colin evenly. "You and Gilles are friends. Why couldn't you be friends with his wife?"

"You know that it is different for the women. We are judged far more harshly."

"Yes, but that is rather my point. Claire isn't like that; she isn't going to be rude to you simply because it is what a small minded person like Mrs. Titchmarsh expects of her. Claire's life in England was very restricted, you know. For a girl whose family has some social standing as Claire's does, there are rules for every situation. I'm sure they weren't pleased with her working even for a small provincial newspaper. Yet she followed her ambition. No matter how wonderful Jack's description of Tahiti was it took a lot of courage on Claire's part to get on the boat. And even more to stay when she realized the man she came for didn't exist."

"The man may not exist but the life she was looking for does. When she marries Gilles she will have it. She will be able to afford to pay someone else to do the back breaking work at the paper."

"Yes, that is true."

Lavinia looked at him more closely. He was staring down at the wine glass in his hand; running his index finger around the rim. There was something odd in the tone of his voice, something that suggested that obtaining the life style she had been looking for would not be the best thing for Claire. "You don't think she will be happy? But I thought you liked Gilles."

Ah, thought Colin. For all of her anger and disappointment at heart Lavinia still cares deeply for Claire. She wants her to be happy.

"I do like Gilles," he responded thoughtfully, "But I think that living in Tom Bradford's , well, kingdom is the word that comes to mind, won't be easy for Claire. I think they could be happy, I pray that they will be happy. But the Bradfords are firmly entrenched in the life of the colonial community. Claire knows too much to be comfortable living according to the rules Mrs. Titchmarsh makes for colonial women. I realize that you may have trouble believing this but Mrs. Russell's presence here has actually been good for the community around the church. Her attitudes are far more progressive than Mrs. Titchmarsh's. With Mrs. Bradford's health deteriorating, when Mrs. Russell leaves, Mrs. Titchmarsh will wield even more power in that very small world. Claire is sure to run afoul her, in fact I suspect she will do so purposefully. When she does she'll need her friends. I don't doubt that Gilles loves her but it won't be enough."

Lavinia said nothing. She understood what he was saying. Claire had been one of them, that small group of friends caught between two traditional societies. Lavinia realized that it would be no easier for Claire to live within the rules of Mrs. Titchmarsh's little world that it would be her to go back to the village her mother had come from and live with tribal taboos.

Slowly, she put the remains of their lunch back into the rucksack. She felt Colin's gaze.

"Don't you miss her?" he asked softly.

Lavinia paused. She looked at the glass in her hand. She thought of the small fortune in broken glass Claire had cost her as a barmaid. Lavinia looked at Colin and said, "Yes, I miss her." Then she turned away and secured the buckle on the rucksack.

Colin took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that he had understood finally what the real problem was. Then he spoke, "Lavinia, you and Claire are not destined to play out the parts of your godmother and her half-sister. The two of you can choose to meet in the middle of the street."

Lavinia became very still. Then she looked up at him with tears in her dark eyes. She nodded slowly.

Thank God, thought Colin. They had managed to get to the heart of matter and he hoped to discover some resolution that would allow Lavinia to move forward. They had managed against all the odds to stay honest with each other. She had accepted his gift.

Colin reached out to hold her hand for a moment.

Lavinia looked down at their hands. Dark and pale pressed together. How many times had she reached for Colin's hand when she was afraid, when she was sad, when she was lonely and confused? How many times had they talked through some important issue in their lives and come to an understanding? Was there truly nothing she could do to hold on to something so precious?

Slowly she lifted his hand to her face. She looked up at him and saw a question in his blue eyes. She had never used sex where Colin had been concerned. There had been no reason. He was her friend; their friendship was based on other things. Lavinia had been schooled to know men, to know when they desired her. His desire had always been there but acknowledging it would have destroyed the delicate balance of their friendship.

She wanted to be closer to him. She wanted to show him that it had always been more than just the intellectual sparing of their theological discussions that had fueled their friendship

Lavinia felt a tremor of fear. If she offered herself would his natural desire allow him to accept her? Or would he stay safe behind his moralist code and reject her? How strange that this gentle man whose love she had never doubted now represented the greatest emotional risk she had ever taken.

She turned his palm to her lips and pressed them against the center of his callous hand. She felt his fingers tremble as they curled around her cheek.

Colin swallowed hard. Her beauty was indescribable. Her dark skin glowed with the warmth of the tropical sun. She released his hand and he gently let his fingers trace the line of her neck to where it curved into her slender shoulder. His fingers lifted the thick, black hair, revealing the spot so often hidden.

"Lavinia," he whispered hoarsely.

"Hush," she answered softly. "You and I have lived too long in a world of words."

"Whether we deserve them or not, the good things are gifts from God, then why the hell are you throwing Lavinia back in God's face!

For the first time his friend's words made sense to him. All good things are the gifts of God; no gift could be greater than what Colin saw in Lavinia's eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her neck. Her skin was soft and moist; she tasted of coconut and ginger. He felt the steady throb of her pulse beneath his lips. They rose together to their knees. He took her face between his hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

With great care she removed his spectacles and brushed her lips over his. There was no need for urgency, for them time had stopped. There was nothing in the world but the fresh sparkling water, the soft fragrant grass and the two of them.

The kiss deepened, soft and sweet, full of promise; Colin drew back to look at her again. She was real, not a dream. He could hardly accept it. His touch feather gentle, he moved his fingers through her thick black hair. He loosened the braid until her hair fell full around her slender shoulders. He watched her face with awe. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against his hands. Colin leaned forward to trail tiny kisses along the base of her throat.

His lips explored the skin of her neck and shoulders in the slow, deliberate fashion that was the hallmark of his character. Lavinia felt half drunk with sensation, groaned lowly. She fumbled with the knot of her sarong. Tugging it free and letting the soft cloth fall to gather around her hips. She tangled her fingers in his crisp light hair and directed him to the rise of her breasts.

"Give us great grace and good fortune."

He spoke the words in Tahitian. It took a moment for Lavinia to realize he was reciting the traditional wedding service as his lips moved over her.

Slowly she leaned backward until they were lying among the grass and small flowers. He raised his head to kiss her mouth again and she slipped the braces from his shoulders.

***

Later they lay entangled, light and dark against the emerald green of the thick grass. Her head tucked under his chin, her thick hair a blanket over them.

She kept thinking of that moment at the height of their pleasure. They had been looking into each other's eyes. His eyes had never gone blank with his own satisfaction. He stayed every moment completely aware of who she was and what she needed. It was her name he cried out and then whispered over and over into the hollow of her neck like a prayer of thankfulness.

"Don't leave me," whispered Lavinia against his chest. She hadn't meant to say it. Not to leave her was the one thing she had never asked of a man. She had always prided herself on her independence. When something was over it was over and she could let a man go. She had never begged. When she offered herself to Colin it had been out of desire, for a man and a woman so connected emotionally it was only natural for them to come together physically. Her gesture towards him was not a sort of blackmail to make him feel he must stay with her. And yet, she realized that for the first time in her life she would do anything to keep a man.

His fingers had been caressing her hair; they stilled. She closed her eyes and said a little louder. "I can come with you."

Colin shifted his weight and propped himself up on his elbow. His eyesight was so weak that without his spectacles her lovely face was the only thing in the world he could see clearly. "I would never ask that of you. You would be so unhappy. I can not bear to think of you struggling against a cold wind, shut off from the sun in some ugly house."

"We'd be together," she said earnestly, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"My heart," he said gently, "you and I know that even the greatest love is not enough when everything else is against you. England is no place you."

"Because I'm not white," she said bitterly.

"No." He shook his head slightly. "The fault is not the color of your skin or my skin but in a world so turned in on itself it refuses to acknowledge the beauty, the goodness there is in the rest of God's creation. I would never subject you to that nor could I ever consider cutting you off from your roots. Your life is here. I know you, Lavinia, you could never be happy somewhere else."

"But, Colin," she began and the tears spilled from her eyes. He was right. She knew that he was right but the prospect of a life without him stretched like a barren atoll before her.

He leaned forward; he kissed her cheeks and tasted the salt of her tears. He prayed for wisdom, it seemed far too good to be true that she could love him so much she would make such an offer. But if she could make such an offer then she would marry him and their life could be everything he hadn't allowed himself to dream of. He drew back to lose himself in the depths of her dark eyes; he said softly, "A man can not live without his heart and since you are my heart I believe I have no choice but to stay here."

She took his face between her hands and studied it closely. "Do you mean it? You would defy them and stay here? Stay here with me?"

"I seem to remember someone saying I looked quite natural behind a bar."

Her dark eyes searched his face. She saw only love and sincerity in his pale eyes. He would stay and share her life, could that truly be what he meant? "But, Colin, what about your, oh, what is that word, vo-vocation. What of that? Your whole life has been in the service of the Christian God."

His smile broadened, he felt the broken pieces of his world fall back into place. "And thanks to you, it will continue to be."

"But you said that they wouldn't let you. You said that the Bishop had the power to send you away and there was nothing you could do to contest his will."

"There isn't. The church, the building itself and the little house where I have been so happy belong to them, to the larger organization that makes up the Church of England. As minister of the Church of England I was foot soldier, destined to go where I was sent."

"You were a foot soldier, that's past tense. What are you saying?"

"Well, that I have considered leaving the church. I was going to let them send me back to England and then resign because I thought that I had lost my vocation by losing the support of my superiors. I thought they had the right to make choices for me because they had sent me here in the first place. But I had it all wrong."

"I don't understand." She shook her head slightly. "You were going away but not to continue your work?"

"Certainly not to continue in mission work; as for staying in the church I wasn't sure." His familiar self-deprecating smile flashed over his face. "I see now how foolish I was being. I would have punished myself for doing the right thing instead of listening to my heart and accepting God's gifts."

Lavinia's face was still clouded with confusion. Colin tried again to sort out his complicated thought process for her.

"It was God who sent me here. I kept thinking it was the church but the church was only his agency. A man doesn't need to wear an uncomfortable collar and stand behind a pulpit to serve God. In fact I think one might be more successful if he lost those things as soon as he could. It is God who created this beautiful place, not the church. God who has given me a great gift, so much greater than any gift I could have imagined. You do love me."

"Yes," she nodded, "with all my heart."

"Then the scripture teaches me that my responsibility is to take that love and return it ten fold. I love you. I love your island and your life. How churlish it would be to throw away so great a gift."

Lavinia pulled his face to her. Her mouth sought his with new hunger. Colin wrapped his arms around her, his hands sliding down her slender back until they cupped her bare bottom. He pulled her to him. There was no shame in their nakedness.

***

The last glimmer of sunlight had just disappeared; David held a glass of Lavinia's best whiskey in his hand. He sat on top an overturned rowboat on the beach just below the tavern's seaside porch. Taking a sip of the amber liquid, he looked over the crowd that had assembled to say goodbye to Colin. Most of them sailors, a few were women of questionable character and there were a number of native villagers of both sexes. Mauriri was leaning against the rowboat; he too had a glass in his hand. Lianni stood beside him. Isabelle stood on the other side of David; she was holding their bottle by the neck.

The porch and the taproom were busy. David could see Lavinia behind the bar; she worked with a calm efficiency he refused to believe was a measure of her true state of mind. Colin was working his way through the crowd, a warm smile gracing his boyish face. David supposed he was expected to admire how his friends could be so gracious when he knew their hearts were breaking. But all he felt was anger and frustration; bloody idiots, if he didn't care so much for them he'd say they deserved their noble unhappiness.

"Who is that old man?" asked Isabelle, pointing towards a huge, bear of a man with a wild mane of silver-black hair.

"Captain Mac?" asked David, rousing himself from his brown study to follow her gaze to the porch. "He's a legend. Oh, that's right he hasn't been through since you've lived here. His name is Angus MacPherson, that old boat in the harbor is his. He has been sailing the Pacific since the days of the China Clippers; has the most amazing stories to tell. I sailed with him; it must be twelve years ago now. I signed on in Sydney and before I left him I'd seen Valparaiso, San Francisco, Shanghai." He nudged Mauriri with his foot. "What do you suppose, Mo, half the men here have sailed with him?"

Mauriri cast his dark eyes over the group. "At least that. Did you know he was the one that pulled Jack off that island years ago?"

David paused with the glass half way to his mouth. Jack's another bloody idiot. Unconsciously he picked Jack's sturdy frame out of the crowd near MacPherson. "That was Captain Mac? I never realized that."

"It was probably the voyage before he took you on. Said he was sailing by and saw a column of smoke on an island he'd never seen any signs of inhabitants on. So, he stopped and found Jack half crazed. Brought him here for Vivi to nurse back to health. You and Lavinia were in school then, weren't you?" Mauriri asked his wife who was tucked under his arm.

"Yes," Lianni nodded her glossy dark head. "That's a long time ago now. Remember, Isabelle, I told you Vivi was Lavinia's godmother."

"Captain Mac was the great love of her life. Or so he tells it. When I got the Rattler I came to Tahiti because of his stories about the island," said David with a smile.

Isabelle glanced up at him. It was the first smile she'd seen on his face in a week. She was sorry to see Colin go but she had to wonder if that could be the only reason for David being in such a foul mood. She glanced into the tavern at Lavinia but she was careful not to let her thought fully form.

"Oh," said Lianni, sending Isabelle a knowing look, "it may have been the other way around but it is true that Vivi always seemed to be between men when he sailed into the bay."

"He's a grand old man," said David fondly, directing his attention back to the where the captain stood on the porch surrounded by his crew and old friends.

"Jack, lad, give us song. A good old song," commanded the old man grasping Jack's shoulder with a huge hand.

***

Mrs. Russell waited on the stoop while Claire turned the key in the lock of her office door. "There seems an unusual amount of activity around the tavern this evening."

"It is a bon voyage party for Colin," said Claire, glancing in the direction of the noisy crowd.

"Really? I thought that would have been the reception we had after church on Sunday."

"Colin worked with a great many people here. I suppose the sailors and even some of the natives would not have been very comfortable having tea and biscuits in the church hall."

"No, I suppose they would prefer palm wine and beer around a bonfire," said Mrs. Russell dryly. "I know you are sad about his leaving, Claire, but you must admit it is for his own good. He has really lost hold of his responsibility to set the proper example. A few months in the quiet of the monastery will do him no end of good."

Claire could admit no such thing so she remained quiet. She offered her arm to her godmother and they started to walk towards their house. She glanced back over her shoulder towards the bar. She wanted to be there with her friends. Isabelle had urged her to come, saying it would be almost a respectable event since Lianni was planning to attend. Claire had considered going and then rejected the idea. Isabelle assumed it was because Mrs. Russell would disapprove. But Claire had been thinking of Lavinia. She did not want their differences to intrude on Lavinia's last evening with Colin.

"I found a pretty length of ribbon today, dear. It will match your blue dress. I want to add it to your good hat. It will be just the thing for Rachel's garden party tomorrow. I know Gilles will appreciate you looking your best to welcome him home."

Claire smiled and thought of Gilles. The Malahini had docked late that afternoon. Gilles had come to the newspaper office directly. He had been excited and full of hints about the presents he had to give her the next day. After an enthusiastic kiss, he left her to go out to the plantation to report to his father. She knew Mrs. Russell had hopes that tomorrow would be the day he asked her to marry him. Claire knew that Gilles was in no particular rush to marry her. He saw it as the evitable result of their friendship. But she hoped that Mrs. Russell was right. Claire wanted to get on with the next stage of her life. "It will be lovely to have him home for awhile. I've missed him. He seemed very pleased with their voyage."

"Oh, listen," said Mrs. Russell, stopping and turning back toward the crowd around the tavern. A man's voice, with full round tones, floated towards them on the gentle night air.

Oh, a wan cloud was drawn o'ver the dim weeping dawn
As to Shannon's side I return'd at last.
And the heart in my breast for the girl I lov'd best
Was beating, ah, beating, how loud end fast!
While the doubts end the fears of the long aching years.
Seem'd mingling their voices with the moaning flood.
Till full in my path, like a wild water wraith,
My true love's shadow lamenting stood.

But the sudden sun kiss'd the cold, cruel mist
Into dancing show'rs of diamond dew,
And the dark flowing stream laugh'd back to his beam,
And the lark soared aloft in the blue;
While no phantom of night but a form of delight
Ran with arms outspread to her darling boy,
And the girl I love best on my wild throbbing breast
Hid her thousand treasures with cry of joy.

The End