by Bobbi Smith
"It sure is," Mark answered. "Our hotel is on the Gulf side, isn't it?"
"Right on the beach," she replied without looking away from the scenic view before her. "Promise me, you'll walk with me on the beach as soon as we get settled."
"I promise," he laughed at her enthusiasm.
"Promise to do what?" Suzanne interrupted their conversation as she joined them on deck.
Mark stiffened perceptively. He had avoided Suzanne as much as possible during the past month, but she still had the power to make him extremely nervous whenever she was near.
"Mark's promised to take me for a walk on the beach," Katie explained cordially.
She, too, had steered clear of Suzanne since their confrontation at the ball, and amazingly enough, Suzanne seemed to like it that way.
"Oh." Suzanne showed little interest.
She greatly begrudged the fact that she was being forced to spend her vacation with Katie and Mark. It was bad enough that Isaac was going to be late arriving, but to leave her alone with these two was almost more than she could bear.
Ever since the night of the party, Mark had been acting very strangely. Suzanne had tried to maintain a comfortable relationship with him but his stilted, withdrawn manner had forced her to give up. Taking his youth into consideration, she dismissed him as not worth the effort. As far as she was concerned, if Jacqui La Zear wanted him, then she was welcome to him.
The pilot guided the steamer expertly up to the landing at the entrance to the Village Bayou. Once it had been tied up, they left the boat and were taken directly to the hotel at the far end of the island where they were shown to plain yet comfortable rooms.
"I will be resting this afternoon," Suzanne told them as she entered her suite. "So I won't be seeing you until dinner."
"If you should need us, we'll be outside," Katie offered.
"Fine." The older woman dismissed them and shut her door.
Katie looked at Mark and shrugged happily, "I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."
"Right."
It was over an hour later when Katie and Mark finally slowed their pace. They had explored the sand and rolling surf with the delight of children and now, slightly damp but no worse for the wear, they headed back toward the hotel.
"That must be the Adams's cottage." Mark indicated a small house that was still closed up.
"It is," Katie stated with certainty.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I asked Lottie before we left."
"You're sure that Christopher is coming?"
"I'm positive. I'm just not sure when he's going to arrive."
"You've missed him, haven't you?"
"Very much."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "And I didn't realize how much until he was gone."
"You're almost as bad as I was with Jacqui. But, at least Christopher's coming back to you."
"You're not doing well with her?"
"I'm not doing as well as I'd like to, but..."
"But what?"
"She let me kiss her last weekend."
"That's wonderful!"
Mark reddened. "Yes, it was."
"All is not lost. Believe me, Mark. If Jacqui didn't care about you any more, she wouldn't even be speaking to you."
Mark smiled. "I can hardly wait for this trip to be over. How am I ever going to stay away from her for a whole month?"
Katie laughed. "If I can manage without Christopher for a month, you can stay away from Jacqui that long. And who knows? She might start to miss you."
"There's only one thing that worries me, Katie."
"What's that?"
"Being alone with Suzanne."
"I thought it was over between you?"
"It is, but damn, every time she's around me, I get nervous. She's so beautiful and to know what it's like to have her..."
"Mark Kingsford!" Katie glared at him. "The only thing you need to know is how you felt after the last time you were with her..."
Mark paled as he remembered how disgusted he had been with himself.
"Right, Mark?"
"Right, Katie."
"Besides, Uncle Isaac will be here soon."
"I hope so."
"Why do you say that? He only had a few meetings, didn't he?"
"Actually..."
"What?"
"Actually, he didn't have any meetings at all. He's spending this time with his mistress."
"His mistress?" Katie fell silent for a moment. Then questioned, "Mark?"
"What Katie?"
"What is she like?"
"Cherie?"
"Yes."
"Well, I tell you. When I first met her I was determined to hate her."
"Why?"
"Because of Suzanne. All I could think of was that Isaac was hurting her. But now that I understand the situation better, I see Cherie in a different light."
"What do you mean? She's still a kept woman."
"But, Katie, she's very nice. Cherie went out of her way to be kind to me that day and I was totally unresponsive to her."
"You were just surprised."
"And angry. But Isaac explained it all and I feel kind of sorry for Cherie now."
"Why?"
"Isaac would have married her years ago, except that she's a quadroon. You know how impossible it would be for a white man to marry a free woman of color..."
"They probably would have been killed for daring to cross color lines, wouldn't they?"
"That's right."
Katie stopped walking, her body tense with useless anger. "The whole situation is ridiculous! I mean, it's perfectly all right for a white man to sleep with a black woman as long as he doesn't marry her."
"It is ridiculous, Katie, but there's nothing we can do about it."
"I wish there were, Mark," she declared.
"Katie," Mark dragged her back to reality. "We're here on holiday. Let's have fun."
"I'm sorry, Mark." Katie temporarily gave up her plans to change the world.
Grinning at each other, they continued their walk on the beach, taking the time now to admire all the delights that nature had created on Last Island.
The next week passed in a panorama of seaside activities. Katie and Mark were busy exploring the island during the day and attending various parties at the private summer cottages in the evenings.
Suzanne attended the soirees and cotillions, too, enjoying the chance to visit with her friends. But as the week wore on and Isaac still hadn't joined them, her mood had grown more tense. Where was he? Was he spending all this time with his mistress? It still pained her to realize that Isaac preferred the company of his mistress and their bastard son to her. But she had given up fighting that arrangement years ago.
Suzanne supposed that she wouldn't have been so concerned about Isaac if Christopher Fletcher had been on the island. But he, too, was late in arriving. She was looking forward to spending some time alone with him again, for after all, he hadn't rebuffed her the first time. They had only been rudely interrupted at a very inopportune moment and had not had a chance since then to continue their very interesting conversation. She was going to do everything in her power to get Christopher alone and when she did... well, the thought made her smile.
Isaac looked worriedly at Cherie, "I think we'd best call in a physician."
"What's wrong?" Cherie asked tearfully.
"I'm afraid it's the fever," he told her solemnly.
"No!" the word came from her in a gasp. "Not Denis!"
Rushing past Isaac, she entered her son's bedroom and knelt by his bed.
"But he was fine last night..." she touched Denis's cheek tentatively. "Isaac, he's burning up!"
Isaac left the room to find the maid. After sending her for the doctor, he returned to Denis's bedside with a bowl of cool water and clean cloths.
"I'll bathe him. It should help bring his fever down."
But the gentle strokes of the cooling cloth did nothing to
lessen the heat emanating from the child's feverwracked body.
"Papa," he mumbled in feverish confusion. "I'm so hot. I hurt so bad..."
"I know, son. We've sent for the doctor. He'll be here soon..." Isaac held his son's small hand tightly, wishing that he could bear the pain for him.
When the knock came at the front door, Cherie rushed to answer it.
"Dr. Lucien! Thank God you've come. It's Denis!" Cherie led him quickly to the sick room. "He was fine last night and now he's burning with fever..."
"Mr. Kingsford," Dr. Lucien greeted Isaac. "If you will take Miss Delabarre from the room, I'll examine the boy."
"Of course," after taking a last look at Denis, who was only semi-conscious, Isaac took Cherie out into the hall. "Let's wait downstairs, my love."
"But Denis may need me..."
"Dr. Lucien will call us, I'm sure."
The minutes dragged by, stretching their nerves taut, as they waited in silence for the doctor to finish his examination. Cherie could not sit down, and pacing the parlor in helpless anguish, she fought against remembering the horrors of the last yellow fever epidemic in 1853. Nearly one in every ten had died that summer from the ravaging disease that could kill within three days.
At the sound of Denis's door opening, Cherie and Isaac rushed into the hall to confront the doctor as he came downstairs.
"Dr. Lucien?" Isaac asked, keeping a supporting arm about Cherie's waist.
"It is the fever," he confirmed.
Cherie sagged against Isaac. "Oh, no. Denis is all I've got..."
"What can we do?"
"Very little. Keep him as cool as possible... perhaps some broth... Once it strikes, the outcome is in the hands of the Lord."
Cherie groaned. "Is there nothing more? Surely we can do something?"
"I'm sorry." he wished he did know the cure. "I'll check back with you later..."
He let himself out as Isaac and Cherie returned to their son's bedside to begin their vigil.
The candle had burned to a stub and the melted wax had puddled and hardened in the holder on the tabletop, but no one took notice. Hours had passed. Day had turned to night and night to early morning with no change in Denis's condition. His fever raged uncontrolled in spite of frequent sponge baths and constant fanning. Denis had been unconscious most of the time, rousing only occasionally to call for Isaac and his mother. He could keep no liquid down and grew continually weaker as the new day dawned.
Isaac watched as Cherie worked tirelessly over the inert body of their child.
"Cherie, you must rest or you, too, will take ill."
"No. I will not. I must save him." She looked at Isaac levelly, her earlier emotions now frozen by her grim determination to succeed.
Isaac came to her and embraced her. "Then let me help you. Sit down and I will take over."
"Isaac, I have to save him...He is all that I have in this world," she said desperately.
"You have me," Isaac tried to comfort her.
"Do I? Really?" moving from his embrace, she returned to Denis. "I have you only when it is convenient for you. I am alone in this."
Turning her back on him, she once again began bathing her son.
Isaac, stunned and hurt, left the room quickly. Going into the study, he poured himself a double shot of bourbon and downed the fiery liquid without thought. Refilling the glass, he strode to the window and pushing the drape aside, stared out at the first light of morning.
He had had no idea that Cherie had been discontented with their life. She had always been glad to see him and had never made any demands on his time. Until now, she had given him no indication that she had needed more from him. He had thought their relationship was as near to perfect as possible... and it grieved him to find that he had somehow been lack ing.
His thoughts were interrupted by the knock at the door and he went to answer it almost mechanically.
"Dr. Lucien?" Isaac was surprised.
"I thought I should check back with you as soon as possible." The doctor looked haggard. "There have been more cases reported.. .I've been out all night."
"Come in. Would you like some coffee? Or perhaps something a little stronger?" Isaac ushered him inside.
"Coffee would be wonderful, thank you."
"I'll get it right away."
`I'll go on up."
"Fine. Cherie is with him," he told him as he went to get the coffee.
Cherie was fanning Denis as the physician walked in.
"Miss Delabarre -"
"Oh, Doctor. I'm glad you're back. I've been sponging him down all night, but I don't know if it's helped or not."
"Has he awakened?"
"A few times."
"Does he know you?"
"Yes, he did..."
"That's good. Why don't you rest for a few moments while I see what I can do?" Cherie looked worried, but he walked her to the door. "Go on."
So dismissed, she left the room and started downstairs to find Isaac. Isaac was on his way back when he met her in the main floor hall. She looked so stricken that for a moment he thought the worst.
"Denis?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion.
"He's the same," she responded, nervously glancing upstairs. "Dr. Lucien sent me out of the room."
"Cherie-" Isaac breathed a small prayer of thankfulness that his son was still alive. "Cherie, he will be all right."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Denis is a healthy boy. I'm sure he'll make it."
"Oh, Isaac," her veneer of calm finally shattered. "What if he doesn't? What if he doesn't?"
For Christopher, the trip from New Orleans to Last Island had seemed to take longer than travelling from Philadelphia to Greenwood. It had been late afternoon before he finally arrived at the resort and by the time he settled in, it was dusk. Anxious to find Katie, he'd headed for the hotel after learning of the cotillion being held there tonight.
The hotel was ablaze with lights and the melodic strains of a waltz drifted out across the sandy beaches and shell-lined drives as Christopher rode up to the entrance. Eager to reclaim Katie, he left his horse with a stableboy and hurried inside to find her.
Katie had almost decided not to attend the dance this evening, but Mark had encouraged her to go. Now, as she stood listening politely to Lavinia Crawford and Suzanne exchanging small talk, she wished she'd not let Mark talk her into it. Excusing herself, she left them to walk out on the hotel's side gallery alone.
The moon was bright that night, etching the island in stark relief of black and white. The murmuring of the surf as it lapped hungrily at the shore had a hypnotic effect on Katie as she leaned on the balustrade, sighing deeply. The night could be magical if only Christopher were here. A cooling breeze from the north chilled her and Katie was turning to go back inside when she saw him coming through the ballroom doorway.
"Christopher," she whispered her heart's desire.
Without speaking, she went into his arms. Restraining himself with great effort, Christopher didn't kiss her.
"I finally got here," he grinned, looking almost boyish in the dim moonlight.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it," Katie couldn't take her eyes off his lean, tanned features.
"You never have to worry about that. I'll always..."
"Here you are, Christopher," Suzanne interrupted them as she came outside with Lavinia. "I thought I saw you come in."
Christopher quickly released Katie and turned to greet the other ladies. "Good evening Suzanne."
"Christopher, this is Lavinia Crawford. She and her husband Wade own Millbrook."
"Mrs. Crawford," he acknowledged the introduction.
"Mr. Fletcher, I've heard so many nice things about you from Suzanne," Lavinia babbled, impressed by this handsome newcomer. She had seen him at the ball at Kingsford House but had not managed an introduction that night. "I understand that you own Greenwood now."
"Yes ma'am."
"Such a lovely place."
Katie was about to scream. Her first moment alone with Christopher in over a month and Suzanne had to ruin it. And while she was tense with frustration, he seemed quite relaxed as he stood by her side.
"Why don't we rejoin the party?" Suzanne maneuvered cleverly. "Perhaps you'd like some refreshments?"
"Of course," Christopher agreed, understanding her plotting. "Katie?"
He ushered them back inside and summoned a waiter to bring him a bourbon. It was going to be a long night.
The hours passed in miserable slow-motion for Katie as she was forced to endure Suzanne's constant company. Her only relief came when Christopher danced with her and then there was little that they could say to one another. As the musicians began another waltz, he swept her quickly into his arms and out onto the dance floor before Suzanne found some way to prevent it.
"I'm sorry, Katie. I didn't want our first night back together to be like this."
"Neither did I," her eyes filled with tears.
Christopher groaned when he saw her misery. "Ah, Katie. I missed you so...and to be stuck here..."
"Will you meet me later? On the beach?" The idea gave Katie some hope. "I need to be with you so badly."
His hands tightened on her as he thought of the possibility. "Will you be able to get away?"
"I think so," she determined.
"All right, I'll be waiting for you on the beach below the hotel. Say, about an hour after the dance ends?"
Katie smiled, "I'll be there."
Katie's mood had definitely improved as the dance ended and they walked slowly back to the others. Christopher, unable to put it off any longer, asked Suzanne for the next dance, which much to his aggravation was another waltz. He had hoped for a polka or a schottische so he wouldn't have to hold her too intimately.
