Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady)

by Vanessa Grant

  “There you are! Come in! Come in! You’re Jennifer? We’ve been worried about you and George these last few days – thought George was a man, in fact!” The blue eyes glinted with humor. “Glad to see you here safe. This is Glenda, my wife!” He gestured to a heavy-set woman squeezed in at his side. “Come in, girl! Come to the fire! Glenda, get a drink for them.”

  Glenda wasn’t a Scot. If anything, her voice had an American accent. “You’ll have your usual, Jake? What about you, Jennifer? Coffee? Tea? Beer? We’re having dinner in a few minutes – it’s just about done.” She gestured to an oil stove on the far side of the cabin, near where George and a teenage boy were bent over George’s guitar. “That’s my son, Gerry. He’s in seventh heaven, learning to play guitar. What will you have to drink, Jennifer?”

  “Call me Jenny, please. I’ll have whatever George had.”

  That was beer. Jenny sipped it as she listened to Jake and David MacDougal catching up on each other’s lives. She learned that fishing had been good for David this year, and that another good year would assure their son’s university education.

  When Glenda moved into the galley, Jenny stepped around the men to join her, helping to hand out steaming bowls of clam chowder and fresh biscuits.

  There wasn’t room for them all at the small table. They ate sitting around the oil stove, holding their bowls in their hands, talking about fishing and music and the Queen Charlotte mining town that had just been bulldozed into the ground.

  The boy, Gerry, said he hoped he’d get a guitar for Christmas.

  “He’s already spoiled,” said David with a grin. “He’s our only child, and I think he gets everything he wants too easily.”

  George smiled at Gerry. “You won’t get too much support for that notion from us. Jenny and I are both only children.”

  So was Jake, although he didn’t say so. He was leaning back in the corner of the settee, watching them all as if he were composing a shot for his camera.

  She didn’t think he was listening until he asked, “Were you spoiled, Jennifer?”

  “Of course,” she agreed.

  George was back at her guitar, but her fingers fell silent and she said, quietly and directly to Jake, “Don’t let her fool you. Jenny never saw enough of her parents to get spoiled. My aunt and uncle spent their lives working their way around the world. They left Jenny behind.”

  Jake’s eyes moved from George to Jenny, probing. Jenny got up, taking his bowl out of his hand and moving over to the galley, her voice cold as she denied, “George is exaggerating. Glenda, can I help with those dishes?”

  Glenda reached for a dishtowel. “I’d be a fool to refuse that offer. If we get them out of the way, we’ll have more room.”

  Someone from another boat heard the music and came along with an accordion, making even more music – and dancing. Jenny wouldn’t have thought there was room on board Julie II for anything more than quiet conversation, but one couple managed to dance on the wheelhouse floor, though they did have to be careful.

  The moon came out. The rain stopped. The musicians moved outside with the dancers. Jenny found herself outside on the wharf, swinging on David MacDougal’s arm to a polka.

  Then there was Jake, taking her in his arms and moving her smoothly over the planks to the strains of a haunting waltz.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked as he swept her gently across the wharf.

  “Yes,” she admitted, tipping her head back to look at his face in the moonlight. “But I’m exhausted! I thought David would spin us into the water with that polka.”

  “Relax,” he told her. “I’ll do the work. Close your eyes.”

  She shook her head, still smiling but half-serious as she said, “I don’t dare. If I close my eyes, where will you take me?”

  “Trust me,” he suggested, and in the midst of the darkness and the music, it almost seemed that she could.

  It was so easy to sway in his arms, her eyes closed, letting him guide their steps. When his hands slid to her wrists, she let him guide her arms, slipping them both around his neck and giving herself up to the night.

  The music stopped momentarily as George and the man with the accordion consulted on their next number. Jenny opened her eyes and looked back at George sitting on the gunwale of the fishing boat.

  The music began again, disjointed at first, then coming together into a popular Western tune. Jake kept his arms around her waist.

  Jenny twisted around and asked, “Won’t somebody complain about the noise?”

  “Not likely. I think they’re all here.” The party had grown as the evening went on, people joining them in ones and twos. The MacDougals’ teenage son was still firmly attached to George. Jenny closed her eyes again as Jake gathered her close to move with the music. She drifted on a tide of fantasy until Jake said, “I see George is wearing a wedding ring. Where’s Mr. George?”

  George was having fun tonight, but Jenny knew the sadness would still be there if she looked deep into her cousin’s eyes. “He died.”

  “Recently?” asked Jake.

  “Two years ago.”

  He swept her in a sudden turn, avoiding a collision with David and Glenda.

  “Having a good time?” shouted David. Jenny nodded.

  Above her head, Jake’s voice asked “Was his name Lance?”

  Startled, she said, “Scott. His name was Scott. Lance was—” She broke off, tried desperately to think of a change of subject that would divert him.

  They bumped into another couple. Jake steered her away from the light and the music. She pulled back out of his arms, feeling the cool night air through her blouse.

  He said, “I was just trying to figure something out.”

  “Jumping to conclusions again, Jake?” she accused him, forcing the anger, hoping to divert his inquiry into her past. “What is it now? You’ve got me having an affair with George’s husband?”

  “Take it easy,” he said, drawing her back towards him, his voice low and persuasive. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I—”

  “You did!” She shook his hands away, but they wouldn’t leave her arms.

  “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to figure you out and—” He stopped, strangely at a loss for words.

  “Why?” she asked with a tinge of desperation in her voice. “Why do you have to figure me out?”

  He shook his head, his hands moving along her arms, palms brushing against her skin. “I don’t know,” he admitted, drawing her closer, kissing her with a sudden, rough gentleness, not giving her time to respond or push away before his hands dropped and she was standing alone, staring at him, finding herself aching for his touch.

  “Jake,” she whispered, the music drowning her words. “Please don’t—”

  He was waiting for her to finish, but she shrugged and turned away. “Good night, Jake. I’m tired.”

  He didn’t try to stop her, but his deep voice followed her. “Jennifer Winslow, you intrigue the hell out of me!“

  Chapter 6

  Jenny shifted in her bunk, trying to recapture the images of a dream she wasn’t ready to leave. Sounds, low but insistent, had been working their way into her consciousness for some time.

  The drone of an engine, suddenly louder, then receding. The roar of a truck, a horn honking: signs of daytime, of civilization.

  And closer, the steady intrusion of George’s voice. And Jake’s.

  “It’s risky,” Jake was saying to George, then other words she couldn’t hear. Eyes closed, ears open, she caught something about spring tides… sure to wait… even the pilot advises local knowledge.

  “…a great idea!” That was George’s voice.

  Jake and George plotting— what? If Jake convinced George that Jenny was better off back at work, her cousin was capable of waging an irresistible campaign. Jenny tried and failed to remember even once when she had managed to hold out against a determined George.

  Or a determined Jake. She’d succeeded i
n quitting, leaving Vancouver against his wishes. But he was here, now, still fighting that battle.

  “What are you two plotting?” she demanded a moment later as she came out of her cabin.

  Jake was sitting across the table from George. Was he staying with David and Glenda aboard the Julie II? If so, the fishing boat must be equipped with a shower. His hair was still damp, just beginning to wave over his forehead. He pushed it back as he looked up from the book in front of him. He smiled, seeing Jenny, but she saw the swift glance he exchanged with George.

  “We’re plotting your safe passage.” He was smiling, but his eyes were telling her this was no joke. “Since you insist on having this fling, I’m trying to do what I can to keep you two maniacs from being shipwrecked on an unfriendly rock.”

  “Fling?” She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove, thinking hard. He was talking sailing, but he had some plan to get her back in his studio, back to being Jenny-in-the-back-room, watching him with Monica. She met his eyes deliberately, held them as she walked across to the table.

  She didn’t sit down. Standing, she had the advantage of height over him. Her heart was pounding, but she managed to make her voice hard and cold as she said, “I think it’s time we got something straight.”

  His eyes sparkled dangerously, challenging her. She put her cup down, pushed her hands into her jeans’ pockets and hunched her shoulders. She was losing her cool and her voice showed it as she said aggressively, “This nice, social visit isn’t fooling anybody, Jake! You didn’t come to give advice, or to have a morning cup of coffee with us. You came to bring me back to Vancouver.”

  Her words rang through the little boat, but he didn’t answer. He was waiting.

  “Isn’t that right?” she demanded.

  “Yes,” he agreed, his voice refusing to give anything away.

  “Jake, I’m not on my holidays. If you’re thinking that I’ll be back to finish the Madison series, or any other work, you’re wrong! This isn’t just a fling. I’ve quit! I won’t be back! I’m not your affair any more.”

  Affair.

  The word hung between them. There had never been an affair, but for just a moment his eyes were heated with intimate knowledge of her. She felt her face growing hot. She followed his glance, down over the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips. As if he could see through the light summer fabric.

  She picked her cup up, turning it in her hands, meeting George’s eyes and finding no help there, only a warm curiosity.

  The heat drained out of Jake’s eyes. His voice was casual, as if she were a chance acquaintance. “George says you’re planning to go down the west coast of Graham Island. Do you know that most of the inlets out there are uncharted?”

  He hadn’t listened to a word she had said!

  “Yes,” said Jenny, her voice taking on a flat aggressive tone that he’d never heard before. “We don’t go into any bays unless we have good charts. We’re not totally inexperienced.”

  Their eyes met again, sparks flaring between them as Jake asked, “And you’re planning to visit Queen Charlotte City?”

  “Yes!” She glared at him.

  George was frowning. “I don’t know, Jenny. Jake just read the Pacific Pilot book to me – I didn’t realize that the narrows west of Queen Charlotte were that hazardous. I did want to go in, but maybe we should reconsider.”

  Jake pushed the book across to her, his finger jabbing at the paragraph on Skidegate Narrows. “Read it, Jennifer.”

  It wasn’t cheerful reading. The passage was shallow, tortuous, and subject to treacherous currents.

  “You’re saying we shouldn’t go through?” Jenny pushed the Pilot Book back to him. Just what was he up to?

  “Not without a guide,” he said, his eyes moving swiftly to George and back again.

  Jenny reached over and slammed the book shut. “You two have already worked this out!”

  George said quickly, trying to pacify Jenny, “Jake volunteered to guide us.”

  Jenny glared at Jake. “Why? Getting us through the narrows isn’t going to help you get me back to work.”

  Jake shrugged. Jenny demanded, “Or is it just another one of your attempts to run my life?”

  “I guess that’s it,” he agreed. George let out a soft noise that might have been a giggle.

  Jenny ignored her, anger in her voice as she demanded, “The book— this book says the narrows shouldn’t be navigated without intimate local knowledge. Do you have intimate local knowledge?”

  “I know the way through.” He was smiling, knowing she wanted him to lose that cool control, to be goaded into anger. What was getting into her? Looking for fights with Jake was asking for trouble.

  She took refuge in the details of navigation. “You said the passage was well marked?”

  “It is,” he agreed with a slight smile. “And there’s more than one wreck visible on shore.”

  Jenny paused, knowing he had her on this one. George was looking on Jake with approval, evidently glad of the offer of guidance. There wasn’t much she could do about it. Jake would be guiding them, but she didn’t have to like it.

  She sat down beside George, directly facing Jake. “How come you’re so available to help us, Jake? How are you managing time to follow us around the Pacific? Don’t you have to go back to work?”

  He picked up his own cup and sipped before he answered. Today he was wearing a heavily-knit Indian sweater that carried a stylized raven design. He looked like one of the locals. She tried to close her eyes and imagine him back in the city. He was less dangerous there, easier to handle – if Jake could ever be described as easy to handle!

  “I’ll go back to Vancouver this afternoon on the jet from Sandspit. I’ve only been away three days – a weekend’s work will catch it up.”

  “Then you don’t need me, do you? If it only takes a couple of days to catch up.”

  His eyes flashed, but his voice was neutral. “I’ll fly back next Wednesday. I have an aunt living in Queen Charlotte – George has her number now. When you get to the west side of the narrows, you can call me—”

  “Call you? How?”

  “Radiophone. Yours is working now – David fixed it. A loose wire.”

  “Oh. So I’ll call.” She glared at him, but it made no impression at all. “I suppose there’s no point telling you to get out of my life?”

  “No point at all,” he agreed mildly, refusing to rise to her anger. His smile infuriated her.

  “And what about your work?” she demanded again. “A week here. A week there. Unless Austin Media has changed, it’s not enough. There’s still two episodes in the Great Hamburger Caper to be filmed, aren’t there? And the Eglinton film.”

  “Only one hamburger episode. I’ve managed to finish one, and I’ve left Hans working on the last one— what did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Giving her opinion of Hans wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere.

  She took her cup to the sink as Jake informed her, “I thought I’d take you sightseeing this morning.”

  She wanted to see his islands, but ... She stared down at the cup in her hands, admitting to herself that she’d missed him terribly ever since she got off that jet in Ketchikan. Now, knowing he would be meeting them again in a few days, she felt excitement and anticipation growing.

  Was she insane? Jake was going back to Vancouver meanwhile. He would return to her directly from Monica. God, poor Monica! Jake was marrying her, yet only moments ago his eyes had been hot with desire as they roved over Jenny.

  If she were to answer his desire with her own, meet his eyes honestly and boldly—

  No! She wasn’t going to be Jake’s next girl, a temporary mistress, left lonely and desperate when the affair was over.

  But what if she did? Would he still marry Monica? Or wouldn’t it matter that he had been unfaithful to his promised bride?

  Her eyes shifted back to him. He’d been watching her, trying to see her thoughts. She r
ecovered quickly, asking, “What about George? Are you taking us both sight seeing?”

  George said, “I’m busy, giving guitar lessons to Gerry. He sings, and he’d like to play. You could join us if you like, Jenny.” There was mischief behind her smile.

  “Not me!” The two cousins laughed together and Jenny’s voice was bright and superficial as she explained to Jake, “I’m the girl they threw out of the church choir.”

  He smiled and the tension was gone. She felt the warmth flowing through her body, her lips curving in response to his as he said, “I thought you had a blameless past. What did you do to get tossed out of the choir?”

  “I sang,” she admitted, grinning.

  George said, “They didn’t really throw her out.”

  Jenny agreed, “No, but I got the message when the bishop came to town and the choirmaster asked me just to move my lips, not make any noise. I know my limits. I’ll stick to singing in the shower when no one else is around. If it’s a choice between a jam session and a sightseeing tour, I’d better take the tour.”

  The deck shifted under their feet as they left. Jake asked, “What happened after the bishop?“

  “I know when I’m not wanted. I just went away and didn’t come back.”

  He said softly, “That’s a bad habit of yours, running away instead of fighting back.”

  A speedboat roared past, setting the larger boats swaying on its wake. Jenny stepped off Lady Harriet. Jake stepped down behind her. There was no one else in sight, only the boats tied to either side of the float.

  Fighting back was dangerous. She knew better than to stand up and ask to be rejected.

  “It’s safer,” she said finally, not looking at him.

  His hand came down on her shoulder, turning her towards him. The water was still, his eyes deep and waiting. “Is safety important to you?”

  If she touched him, he would take her in his arms. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering when she had first started working for Jake.

  He had seemed deeply involved with a dark-haired woman named Elissa. Jenny had seen them dancing once, Jake’s arms around her, his eyes warm with desire as they looked down. Then, suddenly, Jake wasn’t seeing her any more. She was gone, with no sign of regret on Jake’s side.