by Marilyn Turk
She turned on her heel and marched away. The nerve of him questioning her activities. He had carried his over-protection too far. She was an adult and could make her own decisions. Who did he think he was anyway? And she had thought he was such a nice guy. Well, even Russell Thompson had his faults.
Behind her, Russell called out, “Lexie, wait.”
But she was tired of waiting. Tired of other people and things controlling her life. She finally had the freedom to do what she wanted to, and nobody better get in her way. Nobody.
Chapter 29
Blast! That was exactly what he was afraid of. He had overstepped his boundaries. All he’d wanted to do was warn her about Spencer, but his words hadn’t come out right. He’d prayed about it, hadn’t he? Weren’t his motives pure?
Russell strolled back to the clubhouse, studying the ground. Lord, what should I do now? He didn’t want Lexie angry with him, but she was, and rightly so. As he neared the clubhouse, raucous laughter came from the billiards room, and he recognized Spencer’s voice. He gritted his teeth, overhearing the cad’s coarse remarks about some woman.
If he talked about Lexie that way, Russell would … what would he do? Challenge him to a duel? Punch him? While it would give him personal satisfaction to deliver justified punishment, such an act would probably backfire on himself. Still, curiosity pulled him to the room. What if he talked about Lexie? Russell had to find out.
Inside, Spencer sat in a leather armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table as half a dozen other men hovered about, some sitting, others standing. When Russell entered the room, the laughter quieted. Spencer lifted his glass of amber fluid in Russell’s direction.
“Well, if it isn’t our illustrious superintendent! Come on in, Russ, and pour yourself a drink.”
Russell nodded to the other young men present, most of whom seemed too young to drink alcohol. Yet, eager to prove their manhood among their peers, each held a glass. It rankled Russell how Spencer gathered an audience wherever he went. But as he considered those in attendance, he realized how naïve they were. Spencer, the experienced man of the world, represented what they wanted to be—handsome, athletic, popular. They had no idea what he was really like.
“Have a seat and join us.” Spencer motioned to the sofa, whereupon a young man seated there quickly rose to his feet.
“Keep your seat, I’m not staying long.” Russell stuck his hands in his trousers and rocked on his heels. “Thought I’d see who was winning the pool game, but it looks like no one’s playing.” Thank goodness, he came up with that one.
“Not now, maybe later.” Spencer propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, a cigarette in one hand, and waved the other hand holding the drink. “You looking for a game? I might take you on after I finish this.”
“No, no. I’ll take a rain check on that.” Russell glanced around the room at each of the boyish faces. “Guess you boys won’t hear from the draft board for a while.”
A couple of faces dropped their gazes down to the floor, but one spoke up.
“I’m joining up when we leave the island. I’m not waiting to be drafted.”
Another joined in. “Me too.”
Russell knew the boy’s family and doubted he’d be allowed to sign up until he finished college.
“What’s your hurry?” Spencer said, his words starting to slur. “I have it on good authority this war will be over in no time.”
“Is that what you’re waiting for, Spencer?” Russell knew Spencer’s father was a powerful senator and could probably keep his son from being drafted.
“Well, of course. Aren’t you?” Spencer eyed Russell’s leg. “Oh, never mind. They wouldn’t draft you anyway, would they? They only want able-bodied men.”
Russell clenched his jaw as heat flushed his body. It took every bit of his strength to keep from walking across the room and knocking out a few of those gleaming teeth. But he wouldn’t lower himself. He wouldn’t take the bait and give Spencer the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under Russell’s skin.
Russell forced a smile. “Well, it’s a good thing we have you here to protect the home front.” He turned to leave, stopping at the door to glance back over his shoulder. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
He couldn’t get away from there fast enough. Good thing Lexie’s name didn’t come up. It was one thing to suffer embarrassment over his own shortcomings, but quite another if he’d heard any disparaging remarks about her. He wanted to find her and apologize, but she might not have cooled off yet. He’d never seen her so angry, well not as an adult anyway.
A smile crossed his face at a memory of nine-year-old Lexie stomping away, angry at him and Robert. They were going sailing in Robert’s little sailboat and wouldn’t let her come with them. She had been furious when they told her she couldn’t go. But Robert knew his mother would die of fright if he let Lexie join them. Russell remembered feeling sorry for her but knew it was for her own good—and her mother’s anxiety.
So she thought he didn’t want her to have fun? On the contrary, he truly wanted her to enjoy life, life without fear. But circumstances since she’d arrived had only contributed to her fears, not removed them. And now he had his own fear—fear that she would be hurt or taken advantage of by Spencer. How could he explain that fear to her—that there were some things one should be afraid of?
He glanced up at the second floor of the clubhouse at Lexie’s room. Maybe tomorrow he would have a chance to straighten things out. Sighing, he turned the other way and walked to the chapel.
Lexie called for room service the next morning. She didn’t want to see Russell and was afraid she’d run into him in the dining room again. She still simmered over yesterday’s conversation, and she didn’t want to talk to him—yet. So she’d just avoid him for the time-being. Deep down, she hated being upset with him because she considered him a friend, maybe even a close friend. But his words the day before had hurt, and now she wasn’t sure he was a friend.
After all, he’d challenged her decision, questioned her, making her feel like a little girl who had to explain her actions to an adult. Why was she accountable to Russell for her actions? For the first time in her life, she didn’t have to be accountable to anyone else. Why would he make her feel guilty? And about playing tennis, a sport she really enjoyed. What was wrong with that?
She sipped her tea and nibbled a cold scone. A thought hit her in the chest. Maybe he didn’t want her to play tennis because he couldn’t. She remembered Spencer’s comment about Russell’s leg and worried that his feelings were hurt. So he didn’t want her to play either? She shook her head. That didn’t fit his personality. Selfishness was not one of his characteristics. It just didn’t make sense.
She considered how much time they’d spent together since she’d been on the island. Russell was the one who wanted her to stay longer when she said she expected to leave soon. The time had passed quickly, mainly because she enjoyed his company. Could he be jealous of Spencer? Her heart beat faster. Of course, Spencer was very handsome, but so was Russell. Yet the two were so different, she couldn’t even compare them.
Someone knocked on her door, and she glanced at her watch. That must be the maid with the tennis clothes she’d dropped off at the laundry yesterday. Still in her chemise and bathrobe, she went to the door and opened it a crack.
The maid Stella held up the hanger with the clothes.
“Your laundry, miss.”
Could the woman manage to smile sometime? She’d certainly improve her looks if she tried.
“Thank you, I was waiting for those.” Lexie opened the door to admit the maid who barely looked at her. “Just lay them on the bed, please.”
Stella did as told and turned to leave, but she stopped and stared wide-eyed at Lexie’s gold necklace. Lexie’s hand instinctively flew to it as the maid’s eyes bore holes through her. Lexie opened the door wide for the woman to leave, hoping she’d take the hint.
“Thank you again,” Lexie
said, eager to get dressed and meet Spencer at the tennis courts.
Stella made eye contact with Lexie, then glanced away and hurried out the door. Such a strange woman. No doubt her husband, being a boat captain, was on the lookout for Germans. Could he have seen anything?
Lexie hurried into the outfit, excited to play tennis again. She wouldn’t feel guilty about that. Russell couldn’t spoil one of her favorite activities. She was sorry he couldn’t play, too, but that wasn’t her fault. Surely, he would understand if he tried. And if he didn’t, well, that wasn’t her fault either.
Chapter 30
“Atta boy!” Spencer shouted and clapped as Floyd stepped forward to receive his second-place trophy in the lawn bowling tournament.
Lexie, standing beside Spencer, added her applause to the group of spectators witnessing the award ceremony. As Russell had predicted, Mr. Gibbs won first place for the tenth consecutive year. A twinge of sympathy for Floyd squeezed Lexie’s chest. Would the poor guy ever win at anything?
Floyd joined Spencer and Lexie afterwards, the small silver trophy at his side.
Spencer slapped him on the back, looking down at Floyd’s award. “Let’s see that prize!”
Floyd lifted it high enough for them to see, a wry smile working its way across his face.
“Hey, that’s swell. Next year, you’ll get the big one. The old guy looks like he might not be around next year.”
Lexie shot a quick glance at the older gentleman, hoping he hadn’t heard the remark. Spencer’s lack of tact embarrassed her, but it didn’t affect him. He could deliver barbs, laugh them off, and get away with being impolite while no one seemed to notice. She thought Floyd noticed, though, based on the crimson that appeared on his cheeks. He never protested his cousin’s behavior, but instead remained a faithful fan like so many others.
Much as she disliked Spencer’s manners, she couldn’t help but enjoy his attention. Fun and handsome, who wouldn’t want to be around him? Russell, for one. She hadn’t seen him for several days, not since their disagreement.
“Say, let’s celebrate!”
Lexie whipped her head at Spencer’s suggestion.
“Why don’t we go to the beach—have a picnic?” Spencer called out, garnering everyone’s attention.
One of the young men standing nearby responded. “Swell idea! I’m game, are you?” He addressed the others in his group.
Heads bobbed and voices concurred. Before Lexie knew it, she was swept along with a group of other girls and guys away from the Grand Lawn. Spencer gave orders to various individuals to bring food and beverages.
Mrs. Appleton called out to Floyd from the veranda, and he hurried over and handed his mother the trophy. She beamed with pride, showing him off to the ladies and gentlemen beside her. He waved to Lexie and called out to her, “I’ll catch up with you later.” Poor man—those apron strings were still connected.
“Let’s ride bikes!” One of the young women in the beach entourage called out, and several detoured to the bike hut.
“We’ll take the roadster,” Spencer said to Lexie. “I need to stop at the Annex to pick up a couple of things first anyway.”
“Don’t you want to ride bikes?”
“Not my style, babe.” When they reached the Annex, he said, “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Spencer entered one of the ground floor apartments and returned a few minutes later carrying a bottle of liquor in one hand and two glasses in the other. An older gentleman followed carrying a blanket and a basket, which he put in the backseat of the gleaming red sports car parked in front of the building. “Thank you, James.” The man nodded and returned to the apartment.
Spencer opened the passenger door of the car and motioned for Lexie to get in. She obliged, and he climbed in the other side.
“Is this your car?” Lexie admired the convertible, one of the few cars on the island.
“It belongs to a special friend who lets me use it whenever I want.” Lexie was curious about the “special friend,” knowing Spencer’s penchant for name-dropping.
“Would you like one for the road?” Spencer held up a glass.
“No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” He opened the bottle, poured a couple of ounces in the glass, and downed it in a gulp before starting the car. Lexie’s stomach tightened at the sight, an unpleasant memory of her father invading her thoughts.
“So, I hear you own one of these cottages now. Nice. So what’s it like? Aren’t you going to invite me over?”
Lexie jerked her head at his question. “I’m afraid it’s not in any condition to have guests.”
Spencer laughed. “Bet it’s swell. Say, you could fix it up and throw some great parties, couldn’t you? Wouldn’t have to bother with the stuffy old clubhouse.”
“I suppose I could if I were going to keep it.”
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t you? Hey, not very many single gals own their own place on an island. You could live it up here!”
“I doubt the other members would allow too much partying. Jekyll’s not really that kind of place.”
“Don’t I know? Oh well, just think about it. I’d be glad to help you liven things up around here.” He threw back his head and laughed as they pulled up beside all the bikes that were parked by the path to the beach.
The celebration was in full swing when Lexie and Spencer stepped onto the beach. Lexie was amazed at how quickly the party had come together. Scattered blankets and picnic hampers invited the partygoers to relax and enjoy themselves. Several guys carried open bottles of liquor searching for empty glasses to refill. Laughter and gaiety filled the air, accompanied by the gentle sloshing of the waves and cries of seagulls overhead.
The young men removed their shoes and rolled up their pants as they trod into the shallow tide, splashing each other. Some of the guys pulled off their shirts and dove into the chilly water, drenching their undershirts and trousers. The girls tittered and giggled, most of them vying for Spencer’s attention. Everyone enjoyed themselves, and increasingly so as they consumed more alcohol. Everyone but Lexie.
She settled on the corner of a blanket, pasting a smile on her face as she listened to the inane chatter around her. The fact that she didn’t drink was one thing that separated her. But besides the drinking, Lexie’s life had not been problem-free like theirs. The guys bragged and taunted each other while the girls preened. These people never thought about losing their family fortunes or estates—others took care of their important affairs so they didn’t have to.
Although Lexie wasn’t the oldest in the group at twenty-two, she felt more mature. She was not one of them and felt like a spectator instead of a participant. These people seemed ignorant to the fact that a war was going on beyond this island. Young men their age placed themselves in danger on the battleground while these people cavorted without a care in the world. She glanced around to see If there were anyone who could carry on a real conversation. But there wasn’t. She sighed. Where was Russell? Their discussions were real, not fake and meaningless like the ones she overheard.
As she watched Spencer, she wondered why he mentioned her cottage. Was it just coincidence that he suggested she keep it? Or had he and Floyd discussed the cottage? She couldn’t imagine why he would be interested in it, unless Floyd put him up to it.
Her face ached from faking a smile, and she was tired of pretending to have a good time. Spencer was preoccupied with entertaining everyone else, so she didn’t think he would miss her if she left. She stood up and brushed off the sand from her clothes.
“Hey, Lexie! Where are you going? Aren’t you having fun?” Spencer had noticed.
“Just going for a walk.” She took a few steps away from the group, studying the sand at her feet. The usually clean beige sand was littered with black slimy blobs. She bent over for a closer look, expecting them to be some sort of jellyfish. But they didn’t appear to be living matter. What on earth were they? As far as she could see, the black blobs
lined the shore.
“Say, man, what’s that on your pants?” A voice behind her made her turn. One of the young men pointed to the pants of another.
“Don’t know, but you’ve got some on yours too.” The man touched a black streak on his pants. “It’s greasy. Look—the stuff’s floating in the water. I’m getting out!”
Everyone in the water dashed out, glancing down at their clothes, all of which bore some trace of the black stuff.
“Must be some kind of seaweed.”
“It stinks. Hope it comes out.”
Lexie had a sinking feeling in her stomach that the mysterious black stuff was more than seaweed. Farther down the beach, she saw a familiar figure looking out at the water. She strode away from the others and walked up to Abner Jones standing sentinel.
He saw her and nodded. “Miss Smithfield.”
“Mr. Jones. Have you seen anything unusual today?”
He shook his head. “Not out there.”
“Do you know what this black stuff is on the beach? Is it seaweed?”
“No, ma’am. It’s petroleum.”
“Petroleum? But, where did it come from?”
Abner Jones pointed to an orange object lying in the debris washed up on the beach. Lexie walked over to it and gasped when she recognized a life jacket, mostly covered with the black slime.
“That tanker that got torpedoed out there.”
Lexie’s eyes widened. It really happened. And now even Jekyll Island was touched by the war.
Spencer’s voice rang out. “Lexie! Come on. We’re leaving.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw him waving her back.
“Excuse me, Mr. Jones. I must go. Thank you for keeping watch for us.”
Abner Jones nodded and Lexie returned to the group, now picking up the remnants of the picnic. Young men in soggy, streaked clothes stamped around as they gathered their belongings.
