by Helen Conrad
“No. When did you send it?”
“Yesterday.”
He laughed. “Internet’s been down for days. For all the modern conveniences we supposedly have now, we still depend on things like the government supply ship to drop by to know what’s going on in the world.”
She hugged him tighter, not willing to let him go. A part of her knew that this was mostly a show for Jack’s benefit. She had to prove to him that they really were close, that Karl might just want to marry her after all. She knew he didn’t believe it. And then she realized the fatal flaw in all this: it should be Karl she was concerned about. Not Jack Masters. But she pushed those thoughts away.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked coyly, pulling her head back to smile into Karl’s delighted gaze. “I can stay for a while?”
“Mind? I’m . . . I’m ...” Words failed him in his joy, and Summer felt warm and wanted. She turned a defiant glance Jack’s way, and for the first time, Karl noticed him.
“Oh, Jack.” His arms dropped Summer so that she almost reeled backward. He looked from one to the other of them, not understanding why they had arrived together.
“Jack gave me a ride over in his boat,” Summer explained. “It was so kind of you, Jack, to help me find Karl. I’m sure I will be seeing you again before I leave.”
She might as well have saved her breath. She wasn’t going to get rid of him that effortlessly. He stood easily, as though loose and ready for any action that might be required. His eyes never left Summer’s flushed face. “It was my pleasure. You know that.”
Karl glanced nervously at Jack as though not liking something about his answer. “Will it be okay with you if Summer stays here with me while . . .?”
But Jack was shaking his head. “No,” he said with a finality that left no room for compromise. “It will not be okay.”
They both stared at him. “I don’t understand,” Summer said coldly. “Are you saying you don’t like the idea of me staying with my old friend, a person who practically lived at my house the whole time he was going to college in Texas. ...”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Summer glared at Karl, waiting for him to tell Jack where he could go but the expression she saw on the man’s face didn’t give her much hope of it actually coming to pass.
“Listen, Jack,” Karl began, trying to be reasonable. “There really is no reason why she shouldn’t stay here. I mean, let’s face it. This is Polynesia. Puritanical morals don’t make much sense here.”
Jack lounged closer, and Summer felt herself backing slightly away, unconsciously reacting to the menace in his bearing.
“Is that your rationale, Benson? Morals don’t make sense here?” His smile sliced angrily through the distance between them. “This is my island,” he said slowly, with hard emphasis. “I think I know the Samoans who live here better than you do. And what they may expect from each other has nothing to do with what they expect from me, my family, and guests on my island.”
“Oh my God, Jack,” Karl burst out, finally showing some spirit. “That’s nineteenth century colonialism. How outdated can you get?”
Jack’s eyes were fierce, penetrating. “Just as outdated as I want to get on my own island.”
Karl’s gaze shifted. “Okay. I’ll put her up in the village with…with Valima.”
There was something in Jack’s eyes now that made Summer think suddenly that he must hate Karl. The mention of the girl’s name seemed to have triggered something primitive and frightening deep inside him. She had the impression that he was just barely restraining himself from lunging at Karl’s throat.
“With Valima?” he ground out hoarsely. “You would do a thing like that?”
Karl was staring at the toe of his boot. “Okay, so that isn’t such a hot idea. Maybe someone else in the village will...”
“No,” Jack said firmly. “She’ll stay at Lagi with me.”
Summer gasped. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought he would say a thing like that. As far as she could tell, he despised her. She didn’t much blame him either. They hadn’t exactly hit it off in the normal manner. So why would he want to share his home with her? It was impossible, of course.
“How on earth would that be any better than staying here with Karl?” she cried accusingly.
His dark gaze flickered over her. “I have a large house, with many rooms, and lots of privacy.” He shot a quick glance at Karl who was remaining remarkably quiet. “And I have a mother in residence. Just the thing for appearances.”
Her heart sank. She knew that last card was an ace.
“This is ridiculous,” she sputtered desperately. “I can stay with Karl just fine. I’ll only stay here for a few days. Karl will sleep outside in a sleeping bag. Right, Karl?” She willed the man to look up and help her, but he merely shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I think Jack’s idea is the best. You had better stay over there.”
Summer’s glance flew from one to the other, and she could see that it was decided. She wanted to scream at Karl. How could he let this man walk all over him like this? She supposed he was Karl’s boss, but still… This was his private life.
But there wasn’t much she could do about it now. So she agreed that she would stay at Jack’s home, and Jack left the two of them alone, promising to send someone for her luggage.
Karl was happy to see her anyway, and that was the important thing.
“How long can you stay?” he asked eagerly once he’d given her a tour of his tiny house—a basic, utilitarian box without much individual character, even in the decor.
“How long do you want me?” she laughed, feeling secure in her plans. He wanted her. His letters had said so again and again. And she was sure he was the kind of man she needed.
“You know the answer to that,” he said lovingly, putting an arm around her and pulling her in close.
They talked and laughed and reminisced for some time while Summer basked in his admiration and subtly built the foundations of a future with the man.
“I was so sorry when you wrote me about your father,” Karl said compassionately. He knew how close they’d been.
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands. “That was a difficult time. But life goes on.” She looked up, smiling at him. “And there is so much to be done.”
He grunted. “Not around here, there isn’t. The work is not exactly demanding.”
“How did you ever end up coming out here to work anyway?” she asked curiously.
“Don’t you remember?” he replied, and she felt a twinge of annoyance at him for asking the question. Of course she didn’t remember. She’d never paid the slightest attention to Karl’s job in Samoa. She remembered only that he was moping around the house for a month or two, trying to convince her that she would miss him when he left for the Pacific, and that she’d become thoroughly sick of the subject.
But he was ready to enlighten her.
“You know I’m really an artist. I majored in Agriculture, because that was what my father wanted me to do, but my heart has always been in art.”
She nodded. She remembered now. Karl’s father had been the overbearing sort. She was glad her Daddy had never been that way—only on the subject of marriage. That was the one thing that he had been adamant about. Every time she had rebelliously declared that men were no good, that she would never marry, he had turned purple with rage. If she’d only known how far that rage would take him, she would never have uttered a word on the subject.
“Well, my father had a best friend, one of those blood brother sort of relationships. They went through the service together, saved each other’s lives in Viet Nam. And that buddy was Clayton Masters.”
“I see. Jack’s father?”
“Right. When I graduated from college, the Masters needed a manager for their copra operation. I was qualified, so I took it. I thought it would give me time to develop my painting.”
“And has it?”
&
nbsp; He shrugged. “Oh, I do have time to paint. But it is such a stultifying atmosphere. Someone used to a larger world, like I am, tends to go a bit stir-crazy once in a while.”
She nodded sympathetically. “Why do you stay?”
He hesitated, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I probably won’t stay much longer. But it is such a marvelous opportunity. You know, non-Samoans are not allowed to take jobs here.”
“Why is that?”
“Imported laborers had to be paid more to get them to come. The higher salaries for outsiders developed resentments in the local community. Now, only Samoans are allowed to own land or to hold regular jobs.”
“That’s probably a good way to conserve the land for the people who rightfully own it,” Summer said thoughtfully. “In so many places, they end up being the dispossessed.”
“Right. That’s why I feel so lucky to have this job. If it weren’t for the Masters’ pull, I wouldn’t be able to live a tropical existence like I do.”
“What makes them so special? They own this island, don’t they? And they aren’t Samoan.”
“They own only half of it, really. This island is a sort of no-man’s land. It doesn’t appear on many maps, and no one is really sure if it belongs to Western Samoa, which is independent under New Zealand’s protection, or American Samoa. Meanwhile, the Masters, who have owned the place since the days of Robert Louis Stevenson’s stay here, go on. Actually, I think there is a Samoan grandmother back in there somewhere.”
Summer nodded, thinking of Jack’s extreme good looks. He definitely had an exotic darkness in his background. That was part of what made him seem so dangerous, wasn’t it? So dangerous, and so intoxicatingly attractive.
She winced, wishing she hadn’t let those thoughts surface.
“But I don’t know if that gives them enough island blood to qualify for land ownership,” Karl was saying. “Anyway, they run the place well, provide plenty of jobs, and no one wants to kick them out. They’ll probably go on this way for generations. Unless ...”
“Unless what?”
He shrugged again. “Oh, I don’t know. If someone in the family was to do something that forced the government’s hand. Commit a crime. Become the center of bad publicity even. Who knows?”
He had a speculative look that she didn’t like, so she changed the subject slightly.
“And what about Jack? How do you get along with him?”
“Fine.” But he didn’t say it with much enthusiasm. “He’s gone a lot, and that’s when we get along best.” He grinned.
“He’s gone a lot, is he?” she said, wondering idly where a man like that would go. “What does he do, run other family businesses?”
Now Karl’s face was contorted with thought, and he seemed almost to be talking to himself. “I really don’t know and that’s the funny part. There is a business that brings in some money, I think, though it seems to run itself for the most part. Who knows what Jack is up to.”
“Up to?” She laughed. “You make it sound almost ominous, and certainly mysterious.”
“Well, it is. He goes on these long trips constantly, and no one knows where or why.”
“Oh, come on. Someone must know. His mother, if no one else.”
He nodded. “Yes, she probably does know. I don’t think anyone else does. At least, anyone who will talk to me.”
She shrugged. “Maybe he’s a playboy. Maybe a gambler, or a pirate in his spare time.”
“Yeah,” Karl reluctantly agreed. “Or maybe he’s an axe murderer. He’s cold blooded enough.”
She made a face. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it? I mean, do you hate the man, or what?”
“No, no,” he assured her hastily. “I said, we get along fine. It’s just that ...” His jaw tightened, and he looked out over the jungle.
“Hell. The truth is, I don’t like the guy much. His family has run this place for years. Run it into the ground, if you ask me. They sit up there on the hill and treat the islanders as their own personal slaves. It’s disgusting.”
He slammed a fist into his palm. Summer kept still, letting him release his pent up anger. “He’s sitting there going broke,” he said hoarsely. “Everybody knows it. And yet he . . .”
Suddenly, Jack himself appeared in the doorway, his tall form outlined in black by the screen, and they both found themselves staring at him as he entered, startled by his sudden appearance, a bit disconcerted by it. He looked at the two of them, one at a time, and his mouth quirked with something like amusement.
“Ready to go?” he asked Summer.
She rose, but she couldn’t resist a caustic comment. “You didn’t trust me, did you? You came over to make sure I obeyed your command to show up at your house.”
“Why else would I have bothered to come?” he said crisply, but the slight twist to his lips showed he took no offense. “Come to dinner, Karl,” he threw back over his shoulder as he preceded her through the door. “Seven sharp. I have a surprise for you. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Summer looked back to make a face at Karl, but he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was looking very much like a seriously worried man.
Chapter Three
“Lagi is the Samoan word for heaven,” Jack answered when she asked him about the sign that stood at the bottom of the winding path leading up to his home. “The plantation was named by my great grandfather who built the house at the turn of the previous century. When he brought his Samoan wife to live here with him, he felt he had created his own heaven on earth.”
Summer looked at him curiously. The warm voice he had just spoken in surprised her. But his face was as hard and blank of expression as ever, and he returned her stare without softening to it.
The house had a dark, brooding quality, despite its cheery white exterior. Inside, the rooms were large and high ceilinged, the furniture light rattan with colorful flower print linen upholstery, but the large windows were all draped in heavy curtains, pulled to and shutting out most of the light. Summer supposed it was done to also shut out the heat as the house was very open and not air-conditioned, although she thought a little heat would have been worth the attending sunshine.
“Come and meet my mother first,” Jack ordered. “Then I’ll show you to your room.”
She left her cases in the entryway and followed him to a room at the back of the first floor. A soft rap on the wooden door brought a smiling island face at the opening.
“Oh, Jack,” the woman said happily. “I’m so glad you stopped by to see her. She’s feeling very strong this afternoon, and would love to see you and your friend.”
Jack introduced the woman as Nora Tuamona, his mother’s nurse, and led Summer into the room.
The bedroom was streaming with the light of the sun in direct contrast to the rest of the house. The outer wall was almost entirely glass and no curtains attempted to hold back the bright sunbeams.
A large bed at one side of the room held a tiny woman who was obviously very ill. It was with effort that she moved her gray head so that her huge, dark eyes could take in all of Summer as she entered, but the welcoming smile was warm and genuine.
Jack went to her immediately, and Summer was amazed at the transformation his expression underwent in the few short seconds it took to cross the room. Suddenly, his face shone with a mixture of gentleness and love that reached out to envelop the small woman who clung weakly to his kiss.
“Mother,” he said gently. “I’d like you to meet a ... a friend of mine.”
“Come here,” she whispered, holding out her hand so that Summer was drawn to sit beside her on the bed. “What is your name, dear?”
The voice was surprisingly strong, sounding almost incongruous coming from such a weak looking body.
“Summer Davis,” Summer answered promptly, smiling at the woman with effort. She was feeling uncertain, walking on quicksand, not sure what this was all about.
“A beautiful name.” The woman held her hand tightly and gazed
at her lovingly, increasing Summer’s alarm. “Such a beautiful girl.” She turned to smile at her son. “I knew you would find the perfect girl if you looked long enough, Jack. Your father would be proud.”
Summer threw a desperate glance at Jack and saw that he was looking as alarmed as she felt. “Mother,” he began, but she suddenly collapsed back against the pillows, her eyes closed, and the nurse motioned for them to leave.
Once outside the room, Summer turned on Jack with fury. “Why didn’t you warn me she was so ill?” she demanded. “I had no idea ...”
“What’s the matter?” His voice cut like naked steel. “Can’t you deal with anything outside the realm of the beautiful people? Can’t you take life in the real world?”
Instead of trying to defend what she knew in her heart was indefensible, Summer veered onto another complaint. “And who gave her the idea that I was something special to you? What did you tell her?”
His jaw hardened. All remnants of the gentleness he had shown his mother had vanished by now.
“I didn’t tell her anything. She just assumed that I wouldn’t be bringing a woman in to meet her unless ...”
“Then you knew what she would think before we ever went in!”
He shrugged. “I would’ve known if I’d thought about it. But I hadn’t thought that far.” He frowned at her in annoyance. “I’m just as disturbed about it as you are.”
She glanced at him sideways. “I find that hard to believe,” she retorted.
His mouth twisted in a mocking smile. “What possible reason would I have for pretending you were planning to be my wife?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly, suddenly uneasy again.
He stared at her for a long, long moment, his eyes like the depths of a black storm cloud. “I don’t pretend, Summer,” he said at last, very quietly. “I don’t ever pretend.”
A chill darted a prickly path down her spine. He was so cold, so hard, so imperturbable, that she turned away in uneasy irritation. “You said you would show me to my room,” she reminded him.
“Lia!” he called out, and in a moment a plain faced Samoan girl of about fifteen, with the widest grin Summer had ever seen, was bouncing before them. She wore rolled up jeans and a Hawaiian print shirt.
