A Gentle Fragrance

by Pamela Griffin

  The conversation between them lightened considerably as Bill did just that, making Sarah laugh at the slang words and their meanings. He taught her slang phrases for any person who was remarkable, comically pantomiming “the bee’s knees,” “the elephant’s eyebrows,” “the snake’s hips,” and more, until she was laughing so hard tears rolled from her eyes.

  When he got down on all fours and pantomimed “the cat’s meow,” and actually sidled near her, purring, she had the craziest urge to pet him and did lift her hand. Before she went through with it, however, she realized what she was doing and slowly withdrew it. He seemed not to notice and went on to show her “the gnat’s elbow” and “the cat’s pajamas.”

  Thoroughly entertained by her husband’s silly antics, Sarah felt the first stirrings of hope that their marriage could flourish, based on friendship alone, if not love.

  Though on her part, she would always love Bill.

  Fourteen

  Three days later, Bill stood on the porch and thought a lot about that picnic. It was the first time he’d seen and heard Sarah laugh again, really laugh. Like she had during her ride on her pet dolphin. And he’d purposely striven for humor, acting like a sap, just to hear her delight. The ring of her laughter made him feel good inside.

  The screen door creaked open, and he turned his head. Brent joined him on the porch, coming to stand beside him. Both men stared straight ahead.

  “I came to inquire as to whether you’re feeling well,” Brent said. “You were quiet at dinner.”

  Bill chuckled. “I’m surprised you noticed. With fifteen boys chattering away, dinnertime can’t exactly be described as silent in this place.”

  “Yes, that is one area on which we still have improvements to make. The newest additions to the refuge instigate questions and incite the others to trouble.”

  “Chad and Roland?”

  Brent nodded. “They do more than instigate questions, I’m sorry to say. Being brothers, they often urge one another to dissension.”

  “They play off one another.” Bill thought about that. “I’ve noticed Chad tends to be more of a leader. They seem very close. I rarely see them apart.”

  “They are close.”

  The words Brent spoke didn’t seem to be all about Chad and Roland, and Bill felt his brother nurtured the same thoughts he did. In speaking of the two boys, Bill couldn’t help but be reminded of how close he and Brent once were, Brent always playing follower to Bill’s leader.

  “We did have some good times, didn’t we?” Bill let out a sigh of reminiscence.

  Brent’s expression became nostalgic. “We did.”

  The desire to rectify past mistakes spurred Bill to speak. “But we can never go back, can we?”

  Brent hesitated. “It’s not always wise to revisit the past, no.”

  Bill closed his eyes, the crushing blow of defeat bowing his shoulders. He had so wanted not only to make amends with his brother and ask for his forgiveness, but also he’d hoped to rekindle the strong friendship they’d once shared. Though his brother had accepted him back, had even been friendly, he maintained a wary distance.

  Again, Bill wondered if he would always be chained to his past sins. God had forgiven him and accepted him, though he was in no way as good a Christian as his brother and Stewart were, and he doubted he would ever be considered worthy enough to have the town regard him with respect. Still, he had hoped that at some point Brent could move beyond the past and give Bill another chance to be his brother, as close as they’d once been.

  Before Bill could retreat to the house, Brent spoke. “Perhaps it’s not my place to ask this, but given the fact you did come to me for advice, I don’t feel as if I’m treading on forbidden ground.” He cleared his throat. “I trust matters have improved between you and your wife?”

  Bill wished he could give him a positive response, but the truth was he just didn’t know. “She seemed to enjoy the picnic and the lake.”

  “Yes, so I’ve heard. Darcy tells me she has visited the lake every day since you took her there.”

  Bill eyed him in shock. “She has? How did she get there? She doesn’t know how to drive a car or wagon.”

  “Apparently, she walked. As the lake is off the road, it’s not difficult to find.”

  Bill shouldn’t have been surprised Sarah went on foot those two miles, since she’d engaged in more walking than that every day when on her island. But the impulsive, unpredictable actions of his young wife never failed to astonish him. Part woman, part child, Sarah excited and delighted him. I’d do anything if I could have her love. I just don’t know what to do anymore to get it.

  “Perhaps you’re trying too hard?”

  Bill hadn’t realized he’d spoken, and he looked at Brent in surprise.

  “Love is a gentle fragrance, Bill. As delicate as the sweet scent of a rose. It cannot be forced, nor can it be captured. It blossoms when it’s ready, and when that day arrives, the fragrance stirs the senses in ways that cannot be expressed or imagined.”

  Brent’s words moved him. “You always were such a poet.” His remark was not unkind. “Yet what if that rose never blossoms. Then what?”

  Brent actually grinned. His eyes seemed to sparkle behind his spectacles. “Somehow, Bill, I don’t think you have cause for concern in that regard.”

  Bill realized his brother had no idea of the truth, since he didn’t know all the facts, including that his and Sarah’s marital relations were nonexistent. And he felt it was time to change the subject. “Can I ask a question?”

  Brent inclined his head in an inviting manner.

  “What’s the story behind the spectacles? Sometimes you have them on, sometimes you carry them in your pocket.”

  “The twins have a tendency to grab for them.”

  Brent’s face flushed, and Bill grinned, suddenly realizing the true reason Brent went without them far more than he wore them. He’d overheard Darcy comment to Brent how much she liked his eyes, and Bill felt the absence of the spectacles must have something to do with that.

  Bill looked out over the yard. A few of the boys who’d been working there now stared toward the thicket that led to the road. Their mouths hung open as they gawked, standing as though turned into living statues.

  Bill looked that way. His heart jumped, then dropped.

  Sarah came walking toward them, barefoot, her long hair damp, loose, and hanging to her thighs. Instead of the gray dress she usually wore, she had reverted to her islandwear and wore her red, knee-length sarong.

  “Hello.” Her smile was uncertain as she reached them.

  Brent turned. His eyes went wide in shock before he hurriedly looked away. “I should go grade some essays. Good day, Sarah. Bill.” Quickly he escaped into the house.

  Sarah halted. “I have done something wrong?” The worry on her face did not escape Bill’s notice.

  He should explain to his wife about conventions concerning dress and what was considered appropriate. Her father had let her run too wild on that island. Noticing that the boys continued to gawk, he called out to them. “Don’t you have chores that need tending to?”

  A few looked away and resumed their work. But the rest continued to stare.

  He took hold of Sarah’s arm, pulling her with him into the house. “You should change clothes. You must be cold.”

  “I’m not cold.”

  “Well, you should change clothes anyway.”

  “I have done something to displease you?”

  Her soft anxious words gave Bill pause, and he forced himself to calm. “Don’t you like the dress I bought you?” He continued walking with her up the stairs.

  “I cannot swim in it.”

  “Swim?” He looked at her, though he shouldn’t be surprised. They reached their bedroom, and he brought her with him inside, away from the prying ears of anyone curious enough to listen.

  “You do not approve?”

  He felt her withdrawal, saw the hurt disappointment in her eyes.
When had her eyes ever been so revealing? Her face was awash with emotion, showing her feelings as she never had before except on the day she left her father. And he realized this must be very important to her. How could he deny her this one request when she’d given up so much by leaving her island and those she loved?

  “I suppose it’s all right for you to visit the lake and swim. I know how much you love the water.” He sighed, leaned against the door. “But from now on, I want you to take the other dress with you and change into it before you return to the refuge.”

  She looked down at her sarong, then up at him again. “Does the dress displease you, Bill?”

  The dress definitely did not displease him. Forcing himself to look away from her slender curves and shapely calves, he stared into her eyes. They held such a look of distressed confusion, and he knew he wasn’t going about this at all well. Maybe Darcy or Charleigh could explain about social propriety if he asked. He was sure they wouldn’t mind.

  “Please, just change into the dress I bought you, Sarah.”

  He managed a stiff smile before leaving the room. As he strode downstairs, a sense of irony struck him. He had never conformed to strict conventions or society’s stiff rules. Yet those ideas altered the moment he saw those boys gawking at his wife. Even though he knew she’d been blameless in her actions, he hadn’t liked the attention she received. Not one bit. Odd that he, who’d once snubbed his nose at the law and everything about it, was now all in favor of protocol. Bill shook his head in stupefied amusement at the changed man he’d become.

  Life, indeed, was an irony.

  ❧

  With no one to see her, Sarah let the tears run down her cheeks as she changed into the ugly gray dress. Never had she imagined her simple sarong would cause such a stir. Bill never said anything about it on the island. But then, New York was so different from her island.

  She sighed and picked up the cross, again looking at its symbols. Under the one showing her mother’s death had been carved another one—the sun, weak and far to the corner. The crown at the opposite corner showed the distance that had come between her and her father, no doubt. But between them was what looked like a snake.

  She frowned. A snake?

  Snakes symbolized evil, according to her father. She wondered why he would show evil had come between them.

  A knock at the door broke her from her musings. “Yes?”

  Charleigh entered, smiling. “I hope you don’t mind if I visit for a bit. Bill thought you might like to talk.”

  “Of course.” Sarah laid down the cross and watched as Charleigh came to sit beside her on the bed. Her bright red hair shone as the sun hit it, reminding Sarah of one of the beautiful tropical flowers on her island. The woman was so beautiful in both features and spirit. Since the day Sarah had come here, Charleigh had shown her nothing but kindness.

  “I heard about what happened.” Charleigh’s green eyes conveyed sympathy. “I know things are difficult for you, adapting to a new way of life, but I want you to know I’m here to help you as you learn. And I’d like to explain how things are here in America, so it will help you understand what just happened and why everyone acted so strangely.”

  She went on to explain about conventions and that hemlines to the knees were looked upon with horror—protocol stated they must remain below the calves, though some people didn’t even approve of that and were horrified by the rising hemlines. As she spoke, her gaze went to both the drab dress Sarah wore and the colorful one she’d laid across a chair. “It’s very pretty.”

  “Thank you. I made it myself. On the island, many of the women wear clothes of such color, of many different hues.” Sarah sighed.

  Charleigh fingered the cloth. She looked back at the gray-checked dress, then to the sarong, her gaze thoughtful. “As the months progress, you’ll need new clothing at any rate. Darcy told me about your condition, and I’m so happy for you. She also mentioned that she invited you to join us when we go to Manhattan next week.” She brightened. “We could visit the boutique and buy you a lovely dress, Sarah. You would look pretty in green or blue.”

  Sarah lowered her head. “I am not certain Bill would approve.”

  “I think he would adore you in those colors.”

  “No, I mean about going to Manhattan. When I have spoken of the city in the past, he became very quiet. I think he has bad memories there.”

  “Would you like Stewart to talk with him?”

  Sarah considered the offer. “If he wouldn’t mind, yes. I should like to go with you to the city.” Charleigh and Darcy had become such good friends. To be in their close company for a day might take some of the burden of loneliness off Sarah’s heart caused by her husband’s distance.

  ❧

  “No.” Bill’s reply came swift and forceful.

  Stewart’s eyes flashed in surprise. But then, Bill reasoned, the man couldn’t know the dangers of what he asked. The two sat on chairs on the porch. Bill often came here to relax, yet the suddenness of Stewart’s question caused him to tense.

  Stewart was silent a moment. “Perhaps you might think it over? The women really enjoy a day of shopping in Manhattan. I try to bring them with me whenever business takes me there, and I must meet with a judge about an important matter concerning one of the boys he put in my care.”

  Bill admired this man who had done so much for so many child delinquents. “You take from all the courts then?”

  “My former position as a lawyer puts me in contact with many from that establishment.” He looked straight at Bill. “I take those no one wants, those the court has given up on, and I try to give them a home, hope, and a second chance.”

  “Your place reminds me of another charity I’ve heard about. Boys Town. Ever hear of it?”

  “In Omaha.” Stewart nodded. “A worthy institution. My desire is to one day provide even more room to house the children who need help. There are so many wandering souls out there.” He looked out over the trees, his expression distant.

  “You do a good job with what you have.”

  Another stretch of silence came between them.

  “If you’re worried that the women will be unaccompanied, I assure you, you have no cause for concern.” Stewart glanced at Bill. “Except for the short time I leave them under the care of the boutique’s manager, I’m with them at all times.”

  Bill carefully considered his next words. He’d been at the refuge almost two months, had hoped to put more time behind him before touching on those days, but maybe the moment had come for him to share a snippet of his dark past that refused to remain buried in his mind. With Stewart, who’d become an acquaintance but still considered Bill a stranger, he could. With Brent, who’d once been a close brother but still considered Bill a traitor, he could not. He still felt the distance between him and his brother.

  “When I left Manhattan more than a year ago, I left in a hurry.” He collected his thoughts, realizing Stewart already knew this. “I worked for a family involved in the underworld. Never mind what I did; I’m sure you can fill in the blanks, and you’d be right no matter what you put in them.”

  Stewart gave a short, comprehending nod.

  “There was trouble within the family. One of the sons was doing a double cross—er, betraying his father. He wanted all the power—something you often find in that kind of racket. Thirst for power.” Bill stared out across the lawn, finding it easier to look at the trees ahead than at Stewart. “I was what you would call stuck in the middle. I’d saved the man’s son once, and well, even though an outsider never becomes part of the family, that doesn’t mean they still don’t work for them.”

  “I do understand, Bill. I was a Manhattan lawyer, remember.”

  “Right.” Bill blew out a breath. “Okay, well, it’s like this. I drove Vittorio’s son to a meeting place. He was involved in some underhanded dealings with the enemy—another crime family—and, things went bad. Real bad. Vittorio’s son got shot, and someone on the outside saw m
e with a gun. The real killers vamoosed before they were seen, and I was left holding the bag. Word leaked back to Vittorio that I’d been the one to shoot his son. Thing is, he never would have believed Marco was anything but loyal. Marco was a convincing liar. But one doesn’t go up to the crime boss and say, “Sorry, you got the wrong fellow”—one runs. Because if you don’t, you’re a dead man. When you hurt one of the family, you have just nailed your own coffin shut.”

  Stewart remained silent a moment. “I understand your reason for leaving the country. But I don’t understand why you’re concerned about Sarah visiting Manhattan with us. You told Brent that Vittorio’s family thinks you’re dead.”

  Stewart’s reasoning was sound, yet Bill couldn’t help feel a niggling fear.

  “No one from Vittorio’s family knows Sarah is your wife. I shall take the women into Manhattan and be with them almost continually, and I do know how to protect if confronted, Bill. However, I sincerely doubt that even if a member of Vittorio’s crime family were to see Sarah, they would make the connection that she was your wife. They don’t know us, either. We’ll just be another group of people among the thousands there.”

  “May I ask why you’re so strongly in favor of taking Sarah?”

  Grinning, Stewart gave a helpless shrug. “It’s important to Charleigh, and what’s important to her is important to me. I want to do whatever is in my power to see her happy. She and Darcy enjoy shopping in the boutiques, and since I take them no more than twice a year, it’s a special event.”

  A sense of sadness swept into Bill’s heart. Stewart and Charleigh. Brent and Darcy. Obviously two couples so much in love. He wanted the same with Sarah. He could feel that vacancy in his life that much more strongly when he stood in the others’ presence and witnessed their adoring glances, the small touches they gave to one another. A loving hand on the back, a gentle touch on the arm.

  Bill sighed. “Do you think I don’t care about Sarah’s happiness?”

  “Not at all. I know you do. But at the same time, I think you’re being overprotective, which is natural, considering what you went through. But that was over a year ago, Bill, and they assume you’re dead. This is one day in Manhattan.”