The Australian

by Diana Palmer

  Margaret looked hunted. She sat on the edge of her elegant Chippendale chair with her dainty hands clenched in her lap, her eyes troubled. “Darling, it’s been well over a week since John left.”

  Priss laughed, relieved. “Oh, you mean he hasn’t called! I didn’t really expect him to, you know. He said he had some things to iron out back home. Selling cattle again, I’ll bet; you know how he likes those sales!”

  But the older woman didn’t laugh. She didn’t want to tell Priss what she’d heard when she talked to Renée the previous night. That John had vanished from sight the past few days, and that no one had seen or heard from him. Perhaps it was nothing, but Priss was so caught up in the excitement of the hurried engagement that Margaret was worried. If anything went wrong...

  “It’s just not good to tempt fate,” Margaret said finally. “You’re so impulsive, darling.”

  “Stop worrying,” Priss chided. She got up and kissed Margaret’s wrinkled cheek. “Everything will be fine. And I’ll pay you something every week out of my allowance for the dress,” she added softly.

  “It’s not the money,” Margaret denied. She touched Priss’s shoulder affectionately. “I’ll make you a wedding present of it. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Cold chills worked their way down Priss’s backbone, but she hid her anxiety well. “Now stop that,” she said. “John would never let me down. He wouldn’t have proposed unless he meant it; unless he loved me. Now let’s have some lunch. I’m starved!”

  Margaret’s eyes followed the graceful movement as Priss ran off toward the kitchen. Priss was such a child. She didn’t realize that often men thought with their glands more than with their brains. John’s hunger for Priss had been obvious, but Margaret wondered if it would fade with his absence from her. Perhaps he had just gotten caught up in Priss’s infatuation and had been trapped by his own desire for her. He might even now be looking for a way out of the engagement. That could very well be why he hadn’t contacted Priss. It was a disturbing thought, and Margaret was afraid for her niece if it was true.

  Meanwhile the seed of suspicion had been firmly planted in Priss’s mind, and it didn’t go away. When the days kept passing without word from John, she began to worry even more. And finally, just to ease her own silly suspicions, she gave in and called him. She had to be sure. Her grades were falling from the devastating effect of loving him. And even if she went back to Australia to marry him, she had every intention of finishing her education and getting her teaching degree.

  She waited until night, when the rates would be cheaper, and let the phone ring for a long time before he finally answered.

  “John?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Priss!” There was a long static pause. “Priscilla?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” she confirmed. She sat down in the chair beside the hall phone, gripping the receiver. Something was wrong—she could feel it. “John, are you okay?”

  She heard a snap and a click, like a lighter firing up. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “How about you?”

  “I just miss you, that’s all,” she said. “I thought you’d call.”

  “I was going to, later tonight.”

  She stared at the cord. “How are things going over there?”

  There was another pause. “Fine,” he said curtly.

  “That’s nice. How’s your mother?”

  He sighed heavily. “She’s...doing very well. She’s gone to stay with her sister in California.”

  “California? She’ll enjoy visiting there.”

  “Yes.” He sounded exhausted.

  “How are you managing alone?” she teased.

  There was a pause again. “I’m...not alone.”

  “Are Randolph and Latrice visiting? I heard they had twins a year ago. Your brother must have his hands full,” she said softly. She knew Randy and Latrice quite well. They were frequent visitors at the Sterling Run.

  “It isn’t Randy.” There was a thud, as if he’d hit something. “I’ve got a woman here, if you want to know.”

  It was like being struck between the eyes with a hammer. The word echoed around in her head, ricocheting wildly. “A...cleaning woman?”

  He laughed coldly. “Now, you know better than that, don’t you?” he asked. “You said yourself, I’m passionate. And being around you was enough to drive any red-blooded man wild. I came back here aching like a boy, and Janie invited me over for dinner...” She heard the sigh. “Well, honey, you know what a dish she is. I couldn’t help myself. And afterward I asked her to move in.”

  Janie? Her eyes widened. Janie Weeks, the divorcée he’d been seen with before he flew to Hawaii? He’d said his seeing Janie didn’t concern her, but he’d never denied it. And he hadn’t spoken of love, either. Only of desire.

  She stared at the wall blankly. Her life was ending. John was telling her that he didn’t love her. They weren’t going to get married and live happily ever after. It had all been a bad joke. It was over.

  “But...I bought a wedding gown,” she began slowly, uncomprehending.

  “I came to my senses in time, thank God,” he replied stonily. “Priss, you’re eighteen years old. Eighteen! I’m twenty-eight. Those ten years, and your innocence, make it all impossible. I need someone older, more sophisticated, more experienced. I can’t tie myself down to a kid.”

  Her body felt washed in heat. He hadn’t treated her like a kid. She almost reminded him of that, but her pride wouldn’t let her.

  “I’m sorry, Priss,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Really damned sorry. But you have to understand, I went off the beam for a while. You went to my head a little, and I got some strange ideas about the future. Now I’m back in my right mind and stone sober, and I want my freedom more than I want you. It wouldn’t have worked out. Priss, are you there?”

  “I’m here.” She sounded almost normal, despite the fact that her heart was breaking and there were tears in her eyes. “I hear you.”

  There was another pause. “You understand, surely,” he said roughly. “If you’d been a little older or more experienced, we could have had a good time together, with no strings. But you’re just too intense, Priss. And worlds too young for me. My oath, I shudder just thinking about what marriage would have been like with you.”

  Her lips trembled, and the tears overflowed. “I love you,” she whispered brokenly. “How do I stop?”

  He swallowed, and she heard a ragged breath over the phone. “Priss,” he ground out. “It’s just desire, nothing more,” he said, but he sounded odd. “The same desire I felt for you. But I’m over mine, and you’ll get over yours. For God’s sake, you didn’t really expect me to marry you just so I could sleep with you?”

  The way he said it made her sound like a naive little idiot. She took a steadying breath. “That’s me, all right,” she laughed bitterly. “I’m just a kid, after all. Just a green little girl...”

  “Isn’t it better to find out now than after we’d married and messed up our lives?” he growled. “You’re well rid of me. Just think of it that way, can’t you?”

  “I’ll do my best; I promise you,” she said, hating him. “After all, I’m young. And Ronald won’t let me pine away.”

  There was a pause before he spoke. “Your life is your own concern and none of mine. I’ve got Janie. And my God, what a contrast she is to you,” he added on a cold laugh. “All woman. Sweet and wild and giving, not a child looking for rainbows. She’s satisfied with plain sex, and I don’t have to buy her a wedding band.”

  She could picture him with the woman. She could see them... She closed her eyes, aware of a tension on the other end of the line, but it didn’t register. “So that’s that,” she said quietly. “What a good thing you didn’t get me a ring. I’m only sorry you didn’t come to your senses before I went out and told t
he whole world we were getting married.”

  “Gossip dies down eventually.” He sounded bored.

  “For men, certainly,” she replied. “Not for women. Especially not here.”

  “Well, then, you’ll just have to keep your little chin up, won’t you?” he informed her. “Tell them you dropped me—I don’t mind.”

  She drew in a deep breath while her heart seemed to go crazy. “Lie to my friends the way you lied to me? No, thanks. I still have some integrity,” she said with bitter pride. “I’m glad you came to your senses, John,” she added on a broken sob. “I wouldn’t marry you now if you were—”

  “You wouldn’t be asked,” he interrupted coldly. “I want a woman, not a silly little girl. At least now you won’t be following me around like a pet dog anymore, will you?”

  Tears burst from her eyes. She felt sick and empty and dead inside. “No,” she cried. “I won’t.”

  There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. But she hung up quietly before he had the chance to say anything else. She couldn’t have borne another word.

  She cried and cried, the tears silent and hot and profuse. She was still sitting there when Margaret came into the hall and stopped suddenly.

  “Priscilla! What is it, dear?” she asked, concerned.

  “That was John,” Priss whispered, red-eyed. “He isn’t going to marry me. He’s decided that his divorcée is more than enough for him. He can have her without marriage, you see.”

  Margaret caught her breath. “Can he, now?” she said gruffly. “Here, I’ll call Renée, and we’ll find out what’s going on.”

  Renée answered the phone when Margaret called, her own eyes red, her voice wobbling as she told Margaret it was all true, that John did...have a woman at his house, that he’d been to see them, to tell them about why he was ending the engagement.

  “Can she talk to me, Margaret?” Renée asked Adam’s sister.

  “No,” Margaret said. “She’s gone up to her room in tears. She’s just devastated. Why, Renée? Why would he do such a thing?”

  Renée had to fight for control. “Priss is young, she’ll...get over it. Darling, tell her to call me when she’s calmer, will you? And thank you, Margaret, for taking such...such good care of her.”

  “Renée, are you all right? You sound odd...”

  “I’ve got a cold,” she replied. “I’m fine. Look after Priss. And yourself. ’Bye, darling.”

  She hung up, wiping the tears away. Adam came into the living room and took her quietly into his arms.

  “Poor Priss,” she muttered tearfully.

  “Yes,” he agreed, patting her. “But John was right. With the situation as it was, what else could he do?”

  “What a burden he placed on us, though, darling,” she stated despondently.

  “A horrible mess, all around,” Adam agreed. He smoothed her hair. “At least we can spare Priss.” Adam kissed her. “Regrets aren’t going to do either of them any good. Besides, Priss is young, as we keep saying. The young heal quickly.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Renée said fervently. “Oh, I do hope you are.”

  * * *

  It was all Priss could do to lie in bed that night. She couldn’t call her parents back. She couldn’t bear the sympathy she knew would be in their voices. Margaret seemed to understand that because she left her niece alone after bringing her a cup of tea and two aspirin to help her sleep.

  The next morning Priss slept late. It had been long past midnight when she finally dropped off to sleep the night before. She got up, dressed in jeans and a neat top and sneakers, and went downtown.

  The lady who’d waited on her in the department store didn’t ask any questions as she brought out the dress Priss had watched her put away so carefully. She arranged the ticket to credit Margaret’s account, and all the while Priss stared blankly at the gown.

  It was white satin with alençon lace and illusion lace appliqués from its keyhole neckline to the empire waist. It had puffy little sleeves and a Juliet cap with a full veil flowing from it. Priss had never seen anything so exquisite in all her life. She remembered daydreaming, just days before, about how it would feel to have John see her in it, as they stood before a minister and pledged to love each other forever.

  “Here we go,” the saleslady said politely, getting Priss to sign the credit slip. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

  “So am I,” Priss said in a ghost of a voice.

  The saleslady’s polite smile faded. “Time helps,” she said quietly, and her eyes hinted at a past hurt that must have been similar to Priss’s. “There are kind, wonderful men in this world. I found mine on the second try. Don’t give up.”

  Priss found a smile for her, for that tiny bit of understanding that eased her path. “Thank you,” she said, and with one last lingering look at the gown, she turned and walked out of the store.

  She didn’t go to class that day. Instead she wandered through a tourist attraction, one of the many botanical gardens that Honolulu was famous for. Her eyes drank in orchids of every species, and oleander and birds of paradise and candle flowers. She touched the blooming fronds of the exquisite orange-blossomed flame tree, the royal poinciana, and sniffed the perfume that was much sweeter than anything in a bottle.

  Eventually she sat down on a bench and let the numbness creep over her, deaden the pain. It was a matter of making it through one day at a time, she told herself. First she had to forget John. She had to forget the day she’d left Australia, and the night he’d flown to Honolulu. She had to remember that John wanted a woman, not a little girl, and that she wasn’t worth a wedding ring to him.

  She listened to her own self-pity and laughed out loud. No, that wasn’t her thing. She wouldn’t be caught in that bitter trap. She’d have to get her mind on something else, and fast.

  Without really thinking about where she was going, she walked into the city hospital, to the admissions desk, and asked for the personnel office. And then she went in and volunteered some free time.

  * * *

  Inevitably people asked about her engagement, and she repeated again and again the pat little speech she had devised. It wasn’t the lie John had suggested, but it wasn’t the truth, either. She and John had decided that her education came first, she explained to save her savaged pride. It was much too soon for marriage. But there were sly smiles and knowing looks, and she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone—least of all herself. Over and over she kept hearing John’s deep voice telling her what a silly little girl she was. Laughing at her for following him around “like a little pet dog.” Her pride was shattered. Despite the healing powers of time, the humiliation lingered. She should have realized that all he’d wanted was her body. She should have known it would never work out. If only she could stop loving him!

  The nights were the roughest. Her days were full now: when she wasn’t in class, she was working in the children’s ward, reading stories and straightening pillows and making little faces smile. By helping other people, she forgot her own problems and turned outward instead of inward. But at night the memories returned in full force, dark and sweet. John, holding her. John, touching her responsive young body. John, promising heaven after they were married. He haunted her like a persistent ghost, and she knew all too well that it was more than she could bear to go back to Providence anytime soon to visit.

  She talked to her mother about it eventually, because it worried her so much.

  “I’m not a coward, really I’m not,” she told Renée. “It’s just that it still hurts, and...”

  “I know, darling,” Renée said. She had to bite her tongue not to blurt out the whole horrible story. But Adam was right, it wouldn’t help things. “Suppose Dad and I fly over and see you?”

  She smiled. “That would be nice, but can you afford it?”


  “Darling, Margaret browbeat your father into accepting the fare as an anniversary present. How about that?”

  “I love Aunt Margaret!”

  “So do we. We’ll talk more about the visit later. But getting back to you, how are you, darling?”

  Priss managed not to tell the truth. “I’m doing fine. I’m working in a children’s ward, and I think I’ve got a secretarial job lined up for summer vacation. I wish I could come home, but...”

  “Yes, I know. It’s too soon.” Renée sighed. “It would be terribly awkward if you ran into John.”

  “Have...have you seen him?” she asked, hating the question because it betrayed her.

  Renée had to grit her teeth. Oh, yes, she’d seen the poor miserable soul, looking years past his true age, his eyes so haunted that she couldn’t look into them.

  “Actually, no, darling,” Renée lied while tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Oh.” Priss sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s all for the best. Ronald and I are going to see that new comedy movie tonight. It should be fun.”

  “You aren’t still grieving?” her mother asked tentatively.

  “Of course not,” Priss assured her. “I’m getting along just fine. Perhaps it was infatuation after all.”

  Renée bit her tongue. “Perhaps it was. Take care, darling. I love you. Dad sends his love, too.”

  “That works both ways,” Priss said softly. “Thanks for being such great parents. I’ll call you again soon.”

  “Yes, please do. ’Bye.”

  Priss hung up and closed her eyes on fresh tears. Someday it would stop hurting. Someday she’d forget. Someday, somehow, the images would fade and there would be another spring, another season of love....

  Chapter Six

  It was almost dark by the time Renée and Adam Johnson pulled up in front of their small bungalow and caught sight of Priss.

  “Darling, how lovely you look,” Renée called out as her daughter ran across the paddock and into her arms. “College has made a sophisticate out of you.”