Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady)

by Vanessa Grant

  He hadn’t slept, and he’d made a mess of the film, shooting again and again, missing the best angles, his eyes watching Jennifer when they should have been watching the viewfinder.

  Despite the fact that he’d grown to depend on her so much, he’d vowed not to take her with him on the next trip.

  If he saw a little less of Jennifer, perhaps he could shake this hopeless infatuation he had for her. If he could get her back in the background of his life, out of his dreams—

  So he had hired Hans, ostensibly as a photographer, but actually as a buffer between himself and Jennifer.

  It hadn’t helped.

  She was glaring at him, challenging him to deny her accusation. He couldn’t tell her the truth, and he wasn’t very good at lies. Weakly, he said, “If being left behind bothered you, why didn’t you say something?”

  She shifted in her seat, her hair sweeping back in an angry gesture. He smelled the soft perfume from her shampoo. He wanted to touch the hair, smooth it back, see her eyes close as he covered her lips with his. Those lips moved angrily, saying, “Jake, I did! I’ve told you that I wanted something more challenging – most recently, I asked if I could get back into active film-making, and you gave me that bloody hamburger thing!”

  “I didn’t know you minded that much.” He’d never really thought about what she must be feeling, her reaction to Hans coming in to take over much of her job. “Damn it, Jennifer! Why did you have to wait until now – when you’ve already decided to leave – to speak your mind. You know I get busy, involved, can’t concentrate on anything but the job I’m on. You, of all people, should understand that. If you had a problem, if you weren’t happy about your work, you should have made me listen.”

  “Now that’s a good one! What was I to do? Hit you over the head with it? Stand in front of you like a road block and demand to be heard?” She was glaring at him, breathing quickly, her breasts rising and falling rapidly under the sweater.

  He moved slightly closer to her, suppressed an urge to touch his lips to her forehead, said, “If that’s what it takes, yes.”

  She stared at him, hazel eyes turned black with anger. Then, suddenly, she laughed, shaking her head and saying, “Maybe you’re right, I don’t know. In any case, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Doesn’t it? Jennifer, why are you really going on this crazy excursion? Is it George? Do you love him that much? I don’t think you do. I don’t think you know what you’re doing. You’re throwing your career away. If you’re discontent with the way things are, we can work on that, change a few things.”

  She stared at him intently. “What things, Jake?”

  There was something in her eyes beyond his comprehension. He shifted uncomfortably and found himself changing the subject.

  “This flight wasn’t booked going back when I got on. You could probably get a flight back – come back to Vancouver and spend some time thinking about this.”

  “There’s nothing to think about.”

  Without planning to, he found himself touching her face, turning it towards him so he could look into her eyes. “Why are you on this plane, Jennifer? It’s not like you to throw everything away so rashly. Surely—”

  Her eyes dropped away, covered by long brown lashes. “As you said the other day, you really don’t know anything about me.”

  “The other day, when you quit, you were screaming at me.” He couldn’t get over that – Jennifer, flaming hot and screaming.

  “Would you rather I screamed now?” she asked on a shaky laugh.

  “It might be better.” He found himself smiling back at her, admitting, “I’d like it. I’d know what you were thinking then. It’s a mask, isn’t it? All that cool confidence, not the real Jennifer at all. What are you really thinking now?”

  Her eyes met his, sparkling halfway between laughter and anger. “If you want the truth, I’m wishing you’d get the hell off this plane.”

  He gestured to the window. “We’re thirty thousand feet high. Getting out could be a problem.”

  She’d jerked her head abruptly, staring out the window. “My God, we are! I was so busy being furious with you, I didn’t notice the takeoff— Jake, will you stop this crazy attempt to get me back to work. I’m not coming.”

  All the arguments he had intended to use evaporated as he watched her turn away to look back out the window.

  “All right,” he said softly, wanting to bring her gaze back to him. He reached over and loosened her hand from its grip on the arm of the seat, turning it and smothering it in his own large brown hand. Hers seemed small and fragile, which struck him as odd because she had always appeared so sturdy and self-contained.

  He remembered the day she had walked into his life, standing in the entrance to his studio, calmly watching while he tried to send her away. He didn’t have a job for her. He was overworked and too busy to waste time on brand new graduates who had stars in their eyes.

  He’d never known exactly how it happened, but she was seated at his messy desk, straightening out his attempts to schedule what was quickly turning into a nightmare of overwork instead of a successful artistic enterprise.

  Now he couldn’t imagine how Austin Media could survive without her, how he could maintain his sanity and still work.

  “Are you really so afraid of flying? Why didn’t you tell me? We could have gone to California by train last year.”

  “Two years ago,” she corrected once more, her voice businesslike, “and that would have been silly. Yes, I’m always nervous. No, don’t start telling me all the statistics about air travel being safest. I know it all, but when I’m up here I can’t help feeling that I have to keep this beast in the air by effort of will… If I relax for a minute, it’ll tumble to the ground.”

  “Try it – just for a minute.” He could feel her hand starting to relax as he massaged the tense muscles of her fingers. He found himself wondering what else she was afraid of, wanting to slay her dragons for her.

  “That’s pretty risky,” she said, laughing but still tense.

  “Life is full of risks,” he said softly, taking her other hand so that they both rested in his, holding her eyes with his.

  She said defensively, “I do know how silly it is, I really do. That’s why I get on these things anyway. And I won’t do anything silly, like screaming or demanding to be let off. I’ll just be quietly frightened.”

  “Are you?” he asked.

  She smiled then, shaking her head. “Not so much now,” she admitted. “Usually I try to get involved in a really good book the night before I fly. Then I spend the whole trip reading, pretending I’m at home in bed.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not a good book,” he said then, speaking before he thought, wishing the words back when he saw her flush as she pulled her hands away from his.

  He couldn’t even apologize or explain, because he had meant exactly what she thought he had. He had this clear image of her, lying in his arms, the bedding tumbled around them and her eyes looking up at him with green and golden fires burning deep in their depths.

  The stewardess delivered their drinks at that moment. The businessman on Jennifer’s other side was apparently asleep – or pretending to be, while he listened to Jennifer and Jake.

  Without looking, he was aware that she steadily sipped her drink until it was done, then she put the glass down with a click that seemed to indicate some sort of decision.

  “Jake, I want to tell you something about George. You’ve got the wrong idea, actually. George—”

  “Don’t, Jennifer.” He couldn’t bear the thought of listening to her declare her love for another man. “I don’t really want to hear it. I just don’t like to see you— no, don’t get your feathers up! I’m not going to lecture.”

  She smiled. “It sounded like the beginning of a lecture.”

  “Maybe it was,” he admitted ruefully. “Just a small lecture.” She relaxed, her shoulders touching his. He kept very still, saying, “I am worried about you. Geor
ge is your business. I’ve no right to interfere, but the sailing worries me.“

  “Jake—” she turned towards him, her face only inches from his, her eyes dark and serious. “—George has sailed all over – in the Caribbean, Tahiti. Even— ”

  “All right.” She wasn’t his woman. She never would be, yet he had an almost irresistible desire to kiss her until she was trembling in his arms. Damn it! If she’d only let him have a chance! He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice as he said, “Don’t bother singing the man’s praises.”

  “George isn’t a—”

  He rode over her words hurriedly before she could say any more. “Promise me one thing. No matter how experience he is, these aren’t waters to play with. Just look down there – no, forget about the damned airplane, but look at that water. We’re just over the north end of the Charlottes. See, that’s Graham Island below us.”

  Her hair slid across his face as she nodded, looking where he pointed as he leaned across her and breathed in her scent. Was that her shampoo, or a particularly enticing perfume? She whispered, “It looks beautiful, wild and—”

  “There’s Dixon Entrance,” he pointed, leaning across her until his other arm came curved around her back. For a second she seemed to lean back against his arm. His voice was husky as he went on, “It’s the stretch of water between the Charlottes and the Alaska Panhandle. You’ll be crossing there from Ketchikan when you come south. It’s big and damned near empty. You might not see another boat all day when you cross. It can be blue and beautiful and gentle, but—” His hand gripped hers again, loosened when she winced, “—but it can be nasty when it wants – black and stormy and deadly! You know my mother’s people are from the islands?”

  “Yes, I knew that.” She turned, her eyes looking into his, her lips parted, only inches from his. He had to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “This is where they make their living, fishing these waters. My uncle and his two sons disappeared out here – the boat and all three of them. They were fishing and a winter storm blew up. Years ago when the herring fishery was big, the fishermen used to fish through the worst of the winter storms, hiding out when they had to, fishing when they could. Uncle Daniel and his boys just disappeared. They were never heard from, never found. Some wreckage washed up on Rose Spit, but—”

  Below them, the blue water was streaked with white from the wind.

  “Jake—”

  “I don’t want to terrify you, just make you careful. I want you to promise you’ll leave word every step of the way.”

  He’d managed to get through her anger. She was watching him, saying earnestly, “Leave word where?”

  “With me. Phone from Ketchikan – does George’s boat have a radiophone?”

  “Yes. George called me on it yesterday.”

  “All right.” He sensed her slight movement away from him and dropped his arm, giving her more room. “Phone me when you’re leaving. Tell me your planned route, your expected arrival at the next port – Masset, will it be? On the Charlottes?”

  “I’m not sure.” She was frowning, drawing herself back into that shell.

  “Then find out, and call me. Promise?”

  “All right,” she agreed, then her eyes met his briefly. “Yes, I promise.”

  “And when you get to Masset – if it is Masset – you’ll call me again. Tell me you’ve arrived safely.”

  She nodded, promising him, but drawing her reserve around her, avoiding his eyes and trying not to look out the window as they banked to land.

  “And— Jennifer?”

  She refused to turn back, but he said it anyway. “If you do change your mind, please don’t hesitate to come back. Any time.”

  When the plane landed, he stayed in his seat, watching her make her way up the aisle, her bag slung over one shoulder. She didn’t look back, and he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter.

  He flew back to Vancouver on the same flight, earning a curious, laughing look from the stewardess.

  Jennifer called the next day, ringing through when he was just coming out of his morning shower.

  “Radio on line,” the automated voice announced.

  “Jennifer? Where are you?” he stood, dripping on the carpet, listening to her voice tangled with a noise like a boat’s engine.

  “Ketchikan,” she said, sounding happy and excited. “We’re just leaving Ketchikan.”

  They were overdue. She should have called him yesterday, reported their safe arrival on the Queen Charlottes. Just a day.

  Where were they?

  Jake swung away from the television, losing patience waiting for the weather broadcast, picking up his telephone and dialing the Coast Guard weather station.

  “Why don’t I take a taxi home?” Monica picked up her purse from the table, dropping in her cigarettes and snapping it closed.

  Good idea, he almost said, quickly changing it to, “I’ll drive you.” How was he going to find Jennifer?

  Monica threw him an angry glance and insisted, “No, stay here. You’re already dialing that number, whatever it is. I’ll take a taxi home and we’ll try this evening again when you’re in a better mood.”

  He saw her clearly suddenly, saw the hurt in her eyes. “Monica, I don’t think—” he began, but stopped, realizing he was in no state to do a decent job of telling her their affair was over. If he admitted the unpleasant truth to himself, Monica’s main appeal had been a futile hope of getting a reaction out of Jennifer by dating her roommate. Futile was right! Jennifer hadn’t even blinked when he’d said he was probably going to marry Monica.

  She was smiling when she left, but he knew she was angry, and she had reason. He should have gone after her, insisted on taking her home, kissed her and— and told her goodbye.

  But Jennifer Winslow was somewhere out on the water, in a flimsy fiberglass sailboat, somewhere between Ketchikan and Masset.

  And he was in Vancouver, almost helpless.

  The man at the Rescue Coordination Center was very efficient about taking down the details of the Lady Harriet, overdue on a trip from Ketchikan, Alaska, to Masset on the Queen Charlotte Islands. Two people on board.

  There was nothing more he could do from this far away. He dialed Hans and unknowingly interrupted a passionate interlude with a girl Hans had been pursuing for over a month. The girl got her blouse buttoned up and her coat on while Jake recited a long list of instructions to Hans, then hung up without saying where he was going, merely, “I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll call you.”

  As he had expected, the next flight to Sandspit airport on the Queen Charlottes was not fully booked.

  Chapter 5

  They had a tremendous sail across Dixon Entrance. The wind was on their beam, sending Lady Harriet scurrying across the whitecaps. Jenny spent most of the trip on deck, with the hood to her cruiser suit tied tightly around her face and her hands deep in the suit’s pockets. Bundled up like that, only her face felt the spray as it flew over the boat.

  It made her feel like an adventurer, a seafaring explorer, at one with the wind and the waves. When George leaned out of the cockpit and shouted something, Jenny pulled back her hood and leaned closer to listen.

  “What did you say?” she shouted.

  “Jenny, is that boat coming our way? I keep altering course, but he keeps heading towards me no matter what I do.”

  The large workmanlike fishing vessel loomed up on their port side. It passed behind them and circled to come up alongside on their windward side, keeping pace with them.

  “He’s blocking our wind,” shouted George. “I hope he knows what he’s doing. What does he want?”

  Jenny went back out on deck in time to hear the loudhailer from the fishing boat.

  “Lady Harriet! Can you turn on your radio?”

  Jenny shook her head and shouted “No!”

  “Wave both arms in the air if you have no radio!”

  Jenny braced herself against a stay to keep from falling on the m
oving deck. She lifted both arms and waved at the fishing boat.

  “Lady Harriet!” boomed the fishing boat, “We’re responding to a Coast Guard report that you are overdue at Masset. Do you want me to tell Coast Guard that you’re okay and on your way into Masset?” Jenny signaled a ‘yes’ and the loudhailer boomed, “Roger! I’ll relay that you are okay! Heading for Masset! I have Julie II calling me on channel sixteen. I’ll relay your status to her as well.”

  And with that the big fishing boat pulled away in a long curve until it was heading east again. Jenny ducked into the cockpit.

  George was smiling as if at a private joke. “Someone seems to have declared us overdue.”

  “Jake, of course.” Jenny made a futile attempt to wipe the rainwater off her face with a wet hand. “He insisted on knowing when we’d be in Masset. Darn the man! He’s had everyone looking for us!”

  “We’d be glad of it if we were in trouble.”

  “I guess. I suppose we should have planned more time to get to Masset.” Her hands were soaking wet. She rubbed them against the damp nylon of her suit.

  George said, “We couldn’t be expected to know the weather would turn so foul. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered if the radio hadn’t gone kaput.” George spun the wheel. “You could have called someone and said you were okay, and your guardian angel would have relaxed. What’s this about telling Julie we’re all right? Who’s Julie?”

  “You’ve got me. I don’t know what he was talking about. I thought he said he’d notify the Julie II. Another boat, maybe? Jake’s started a terrible fuss over our being just three days late!”

  “Don’t knock it, Jenny. I wish I had someone to worry about me.” George turned away swiftly before Jenny could see her face. “Take the wheel, would you? I’ll make us some coffee.”

  After two years, George still wasn’t over Scott. In two years, would Jenny still be missing Jake? Ever since she’d left Vancouver she had felt as if a part of herself had been torn away. She kept turning to say things to him, tucking away small comments for the next time they were together.