Her Name Will Be Faith

by Christopher Nicole

  Mark looked at the list which hung by his earphones. “I guess she’s a girl named Faith,” he said. “You reckon there’s any charity down there, Doc?”

  “Nope. And even less hope, for those who can’t get out of the way.”

  JULY: The Fourth Week

  SATURDAY 22 JULY

  Park Avenue

  The telephone jangled. Jo put it on open speech; she had an idea who it might be. She had in fact expected this call yesterday.

  “Hi,” Michael said.

  “Hi.”

  “Just got in. Well, last night.” From his voice, she had an idea he had spent most of the night drinking. “Aren’t you going to ask me how we did?”

  “How did you do?” Jo asked.

  “Well…” His voice was triumphant. “There are a couple of protests to be heard today, but it’s as near a certainty as you can have that we’ve won our class.” He waited for a moment, then asked, “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

  Presumably the fact of having won the race made everything that had gone before irrelevant, at least in his eyes. “Congratulations,” she said.

  “It was some race,” he told her. “Flat calm to begin with. Would you believe on Monday morning we could still see the hills around Newport? Then light airs. Now that’s where real skill comes in, taking advantage of every puff of wind, entering the Gulf Stream at just the right place… the guys all agree it couldn’t have been done without me.”

  “I’m sure they’re right,” Jo agreed.

  “Then the winds picked up and we had a good breeze for the last couple of days. The ship behaved like a dream. Now tell me, how’s the boy?”

  “Doing well.”

  “Still in hospital?”

  “No, I collected him yesterday. But he still has to rest. He’s in bed.”

  “Great. Then everything has gone all right.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Everything has gone all right.”

  “Well, that’s great. What are your plans?”

  “Owen Michael and I are flying down to Eleuthera on Monday.”

  “The doctor given you the okay on that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, great. He’ll like that. And it’s bound to do him good.”

  “What are your plans?”

  “Well, like I told you before we left, the guys and I thought we’d take a week cruising around Bermuda. There’s some great snorkeling and fishing to be had here. And there’s nothing for me to hurry back for, is there? Not with Owen Michael on the mend and all of you down in the Bahamas.”

  “Nothing at all,” Jo said, and hung up. She gazed at Richard, who had arrived just as the phone had rung, and was mixing them Bloody Marys. Now he looked back at her. She had wanted him to hear the conversation, but she felt she had to offer some explanation. “He has this marvelous facility of remembering only what he wants to remember, and forgetting everything else,” she said. “We had the most vicious quarrel over the phone when he wouldn’t abandon the race because of Owen Michael’s illness. I called him some terrible names, virtually in public. But now all is sweetness and light, because he’s won his damned race. Not that he is going to change any of his plans, of course.”

  Richard handed her a glass. “You sound kind of bitter.”

  “Don’t you think I have cause to be?”

  He gave one of his half smiles. “I’m a prejudiced witness. But I would say you have every reason to be bitter.”

  She drank, sat on the settee, brooded out of the undraped picture window at the skyline of New York, gleaming in the morning sunlight; Richard had come here so regularly during the past week she had ceased worrying about the porters. Now, presumably she should be worrying about Owen Michael’s reaction. On Dr Matthey’s recommendation she had given him a sedative last night to make sure he had no ill effects after the excitement of coming home. But he was going to wake up any minute. “So what would be your solution?”

  “You know it. Divorce Donnelly and marry me.”

  “I wish it were as simple as that.”

  “Everything in life is simple, if you just make up your mind to do it. And divorce is no more difficult than anything else. The guy’s a heel. Or he sure comes across that way. And there’s no real question of guilt, nowadays, either. Just a matter of will.”

  “You have got to be joking. Don’t you think I’ve gone over this time and again in my mind? Guilt? There may not be any in the eyes of the law, but I wouldn’t have much chance with friends and family, now would I? I commit adultery with you, while Michael is committing adultery with a yacht?” She sighed. “Believe me, Richard, I’d move in with you tomorrow, if it weren’t for the children.”

  “That is a legal matter, my love, and I don’t think it will be a problem either. I told you, courts don’t consider guilt or innocence in divorce cases these days. The decision will be based entirely on which parent is the better one to have custody of the children — for their good. Well, when Donnelly’s behavior, not only about Owen Michael’s illness but over the whole vacation scene, the way he’s always away from home, is brought out, I don’t think any right-minded judge would hesitate for a moment as to who should have them.”

  “Court,” she said, and hugged herself. “Judge. The whole thing sounds too terrible for words.”

  “It isn’t, really.”

  “Because you’ve been through it. I guess maybe it’s different for a man. Anyway, from what you’ve told me, it was a mutual decision — and there were no children involved. Michael wouldn’t go along with that, especially if it meant losing Owen Michael and Tamsin. Anyway, he’s a Catholic, so he’d thump that tub. He’d fight tooth and nail, and he’d fight dirty, too. Every last bit of dirty linen in our lives would be hung out to dry. And even if I did get custody of the children, think of the effect the whole thing would have on them. Not only the split. They’d have to be allowed to spend time with Michael every so often, and boy, would he attempt to turn them against me.”

  “Like I said, the guy’s a heel. But Jo… are you going to spend the rest of your life in misery for fear of him and what he might do? That’s emotional blackmail, even if he hasn’t started to apply it yet.”

  She smiled. “Then what about you? Do you really want to take on two hooligans?”

  “As long as they’re your hooligans, I’d like nothing better.”

  Her smile became genuinely warm. “Yes, I think you would. I know you’d make a good father. Oh, Richard, how I want to… look, give me a little time to think, will you? When I come back from Eleuthera I’ll have it all sorted out in my mind, I promise.”

  He frowned. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I don’t think you should go down there right now.”

  “But I have to. I told Michael I was going. It’ll be quite all right; Dr Matthey says that as long as I make sure Owen Michael just lazes about, does no diving or anything like that, a couple of weeks in the Bahamas would be the best possible thing for him.” She touched his hand. “And for me. It’s pretty difficult to make decisions about us, knowing I’m going to see you in half an hour. You’re just too close. My mind is full of you, rather than what’s best for us. Can you understand that?”

  “Sure I can. But I wasn’t thinking about Owen Michael, Jo. Or about us. I was thinking about Faith.”

  Her turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you been watching my forecasts?”

  “I haven’t really felt like watching anything this past week.”

  “Well… I didn’t mention it before, because I didn’t want you worrying about Tamsin.”

  Jo sat up straight. “You mean Faith’s a biggie?”

  “Not yet. But she’s doing everything she isn’t supposed to do. Or maybe it’s everything she is supposed to do, if she means to cause the maximum trouble. You remember she was moving fairly slowly, but even so she should have reached the Caribbean by now. But she’s slowed down even more, almost stalled in fact. Yet with no deviation
in course; she still has a bead drawn on Puerto Rico. And her winds are increasing all the time. We expect her to be upgraded to Hurricane by tonight.”

  “You mean she could pose a threat to the Bahamas?”

  “We have no means of knowing. She could go straight across Puerto Rico into the Caribbean, she could turn up north before reaching the islands — neither would pose any threat to Eleuthera — or she could hit Puerto Rico and then turn north, which would carry her in a straight line up the eastern Bahamas. I’m afraid that’s the most likely course for her to follow.”

  “Oh, my God. When will this happen?”

  “Well, there are storm warnings in Puerto Rico right this minute. If she were to do what I suggest, and travelling at her present speed, she could be in the Bahamas by next Wednesday.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Jo gasped. “I must get hold of them.”

  “Don’t you think they know? They’ll have been watching the Miami forecasts.”

  “Perhaps. But I really must try.”

  SUNDAY 23 JULY

  Park Avenue

  She was too worried to be good company that night. She found it difficult to accept that North Eleuthera would ever be hit by a major storm, and even if it was, she reminded herself that Lawson and Belle knew all about hurricanes, having lived in the Bahamas for years, and Big Mike and Babs and Dale were also perfectly able to take care of themselves. Yet when she remembered three years ago those seas getting higher and higher, until they had almost threatened to lap over the rocks below the house… and Tamsin was there.

  In the morning she telephoned the Whaletown post office. Inevitably it took her over an hour to get through, and then the line was bad. “Hi, there, Mis’ Donnelly,” the girl said. “I give Josh that message for Mr Donnelly, and he got it, ’cause he tol’ me so when he was in las’ week.”

  “Thanks a million,” Jo said. “I have another one for him.”

  “He don’ come into town on Sundays, ma’am.”

  “I know. But if Josh could take the message again…”

  “Josh don’ go out to Dolphin Point on Sundays.”

  “I know that too. But if he could perhaps make a special journey… it’s very important. I want Mr Donnelly to call me here in New York. Can you ask him to do that?”

  “Ah guess ah can give Josh the message, Mis’ Donnelly, when he comes outa church.”

  “I’d be most terribly grateful. And do remember to tell him it is most urgent.”

  “No problem, ma’am. You have a nice day.”

  Obviously, if anyone around Whaletown had heard there was a potential hurricane a few hundred miles south of them they weren’t worrying about it — but then, she remembered that in those sun kissed islands nobody ever really worried about anything… until it happened. And obviously she couldn’t hope to hear from Big Mike before tomorrow. And what was she going to say to him when he did call? Even if she told him she had changed her mind about coming down — as she had, not so much for herself but for Owen Michael: Dr Matthey would hardly approve of exposing the boy to the tensions and possible risks of a hurricane — he was very unlikely to pack up and come home just because there was a storm in the vicinity; he would remind her of how they had survived the last Tropical Storm to hit Eleuthera — just a doddle. Nor was there any way he could send Tamsin back alone. She was almost tempted to farm Owen Michael out and rush down and pick the little girl up… but she couldn’t leave him at this stage, not even with Marcia. Her anger with Michael grew. If ever a family needed two parents it was now.

  Marcia! There was an idea. She could drive down to Greenwich Village for a cup of coffee and hear what they thought about it. She just had to talk to someone, and Richard was at the studio. Besides, Richard was too close to the subject, took it all perhaps a shade too seriously. Marcia’s approach to life was essentially practical.

  She told Owen Michael she was going out for half an hour, installed him in front of the television set, and discovered both Marcia and Benny in overalls, surrounded by paint and wallpaper, hanging on to step ladders as they painted the ceiling in the first-floor lounge. “Hey, Jo,” Marcia called as she entered the room. “Have you heard there’s a storm could be gonna hit the Bahamas?”

  “Yes,” Jo said.

  “I’ll bet you wish you were there to see the fun,” Benny said.

  “Fun?” Jo asked. “I’m worried sick. Tamsin is there.”

  Marcia slid down her ladder to give her a hug, managing to transfer some wet paint from the back of her hand to Jo’s blouse as she did so. “Now, Jo, you know she’ll be all right. Dad and Lawson and Dale are there, and Babs and Belle…”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself,” Jo agreed.

  “So there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about, believe me.”

  “I know you’re right,” Jo said miserably.

  Marcia felt a surge of sympathy. “Come on, old girl, let’s put on some coffee. When’s Michael coming home?”

  “I have no idea,” Jo said. She didn’t want to get involved in chatting about Michael with any member of his family, at least, not until her own decision was irrevocable — as if it wasn’t already.

  Marcia, who had been kept informed of the situation by her mother, decided against pressing the subject. “Well, I’ve got some news for you, anyway.” She glanced at Benny and winked, before leading Jo down the creaky old stairs to their new kitchen.

  Jo tried to put her worries and resentments out of mind and look interested. “Tell, then. What is it?”

  “Well…” Marcia grinned as she filled the machine. “It looks like we’ll need to advance the date of our wedding.”

  “You’re not…?”

  “We are. At least I am — pregnant.”

  “Oh, terrific! Accidental, or deliberate?” Jo was truly excited for them both.

  “Bit of both, I guess. We’d decided to start a family just as soon as we were married, and just stopped bothering… never imagined it could happen so quickly.”

  “Have you told Babs?”

  “No. It’s such a hassle, trying to get in touch with them down there. And it’s not something you can say over the phone. I’ll tell her when she comes home; it’s only another fortnight.”

  “How do you think she’ll take it?” Jo herself had no idea. Illegitimate babies might not be the catastrophe they had once been considered, but Babs and Mike were practicing Catholics, even if Marcia wasn’t, most of the time. How did one confess something like an illegitimate pregnancy?

  “Well,” Marcia said, practically, “Benny and I are getting married. We’ll just have to bring it forward, I guess.”

  “Um.” Jo felt her sister-in-law was refusing to consider that her parents might be upset. She gulped her coffee. “Well, I have to get back to Owen Michael.”

  “How is he, anyway?”

  “Thriving. Except that I haven’t told him yet we’re not going down to Eleuthera tomorrow.”

  “You’re not? You don’t mean you’re staying here because of that storm?” Marcia gave a shriek of laughter. “Oh, Jo, you really are a worry wart.”

  “Well, I don’t think Owen Michael should be exposed to any excitement right now,” Jo said stiffly, and then relented. “Look, why don’t you and Benny come over for supper tomorrow night. Save you cooking.” She knew Richard was working that evening.

  “Hey, Mom,” Owen Michael shouted as she entered the apartment. “There’s a hurricane making for Puerto Rico. It’s just come through on the news. Did you know that?”

  “I heard something about it,” Jo lied. “But it’s not a hurricane, darling, just a tropical storm. They’ve called it Faith.”

  “It’s a hurricane,” Owen Michael insisted. “They just said so. It has winds of eighty miles an hour at the center.”

  “Oh, my God!” Jo muttered.

  “Say, Mom, do you think it could hit the Bahamas?”

  “Of course it won’t hit the Bahamas. Puerto Rico is hundreds of miles away.”<
br />
  “Ah, shit! I was hoping we could get down there in time.”

  “I do wish you wouldn’t use that word,” Jo remarked. “And Owen Michael… we are not going to Dolphin Point tomorrow.”

  “Not going?” He turned away from the screen in dismay.

  “Dr Matthey has changed his mind.” Jo was becoming a most efficient liar; on the other hand, she had no doubt at all Dr Matthey would agree with her. “He thinks you should stay here for at least another week.”

  “Aw, Mom…”

  Jo went into the study and closed the door. Eighty miles an hour was at the very bottom end of the hurricane scale, but the storm hadn’t even reached Puerto Rico yet. She dialed Richard’s office number.

  “Hi,” he said. “Did you get through to your folks?”

  “It’s an Out Island, remember?” she told him. “I left a message for them to call me, but I don’t expect to hear before tomorrow morning. Richard, is it really true that Faith is now a hurricane?”

  “It’s true,” he said. “And quite honestly, I don’t like the look of her one little bit.”

  “You mean she could build?”

  “I mean she is doing just that.”

  “But you still don’t know if she’ll hit Eleuthera.”

  “I can’t have any idea about that until she hits Puerto Rico, which is expected in another twelve hours. Normally we can form some idea of what will happen then by reading the water temperatures, she’ll look for the warmest. Trouble is, this year the waters in the Bahamas are just as warm as in the Caribbean. In fact there are temperatures of over 26° Centigrade all the way up to Canada; big sharks have been reported north of Cape Cod, and they only go up there when their food fish move north, and those smaller fish move with the plankton which drifts up there with the warm water. Added to that the way the jet stream has gone right up north… Faith has the whole north-west Atlantic to play in.”