Adam and Eva

by Sandra Kitt

  “So was my ex-wife,” he said caustically.

  Eva looked at his face in the dark. “But don’t you like Lavona?”

  Adam shifted from one foot to the other. “I like her well enough.”

  Eva frowned and pursed her lips ruefully. Adam could compare his ex-wife and Lavona. They were both beautiful. But he did not say the same of her. On the other hand, he’d said he wouldn’t treat her as he did Lavona. She shook her head gently. There were too many differences for her to understand.

  “Maxwell, why did you tell me that?” she asked softly.

  “Because you’re still not sure of me,” he whispered, “or yourself.”

  She couldn’t answer that because he was too close to the truth.

  “Lavona and I understand each other. There’s never been any pretending that our relationship was ever anything else outside of a bedroom.”

  Eva looked at him, somewhat in wonder. Did Adam see their relationship as anything more…or less…or different?

  “Maxwell…I—I like you holding me.” She felt the need to admit, to justify. He came closer to her and taking her by the shoulders turned her to face him fully. Adam stretched his fingers along one cheek, his thumb forcing her head up. He bent to kiss her gently, but thoroughly.

  “That’s a start,” he said thickly. He turned back to his Jeep.

  “Maxwell?”

  He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.

  “Would you like to come upstairs?”

  He hesitated only a second before answering. “No,” he said firmly. “We both know what would happen if I do.” He climbed into the Jeep, started the engine, and without another word drove away.

  Eva climbed the stairs to her house. She put her things away in a slow, lethargic manner, thinking as she moved how the past seemed to be getting dimmer. And distantly unreal.

  Chapter Seven

  Eva lifted the rum drink absently and took a sip. She grimaced and put the glass down again, forcing the liquid in her mouth down her throat. The ice had melted in the glass, and the drink tasted like nothing more than warm, tinted water.

  “I order you another one,” Deacon said next to her.

  “Oh, no. No more for me, thank you.” Eva quickly inserted as Deacon moved to signal for the waiter.

  “Come on, Eva,” Deacon scoffed at her. “This is a celebration! It’s Carnival time. Everybody drink and dance.”

  Eva smiled weakly, feeling a headache beginning to set in at her temples. “For me it’s more fun just to watch. Maybe later,” she assured him, hoping that later he would have forgotten. Deacon turned to have a word with his sister and brother-in-law, and Eva sighed inwardly, gently massaging her forehead.

  The music being performed had a certain cadence and rhythm to it that at this moment seemed to be keeping exact step to the pain in her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on blocking out one or the other and finding it didn’t work.

  Eva jumped guiltily at the voice in her ear, and the arm which briefly rested around her back and shoulders. She turned her eyes back to Deacon.

  “Good music, eh?” he flashed a wide smile from his dark face.

  “Very nice,” Eva agreed.

  “They make love songs, you know,” Deacon informed her.

  Eva gave him a skeptical look. “It sounds too festive to be love songs.”

  “Oh yes. We like happy music for all things. Even sad occasions. We celebrate everything!” and he began to move his shoulders to the music in a sensual rotation, leaning toward her. Eva’s eyes widened as they followed the suggestive movements. But then he laughed and grabbed for her hand. “That private dance,” he whispered low, “only for lovers.”

  “Is it?” Eva asked wanly.

  “Yes! I dance for you, yes? I dance the whole dance if you stay, marry Deacon.”

  Eva hoped her chuckle sounded like gentle amusement. “That’s quite all right.”

  The musical evening had started with a steel band, which was lovely but just a bit too loud. Then it had changed to reggae for a while, complete with a lead singer in long Rastafarian dreadlocks. Now it was calypso, with everyone around her in the smoky room swaying to the music.

  Eva looked at the crowd of people through the fog of cigarette smoke, at the mixture of people who’d come to celebrate the whole week on St. John. The streets and stores and restaurants had been hard pressed to accommodate not only those already on the island but those arriving from St. Thomas and Puerto Rico as well.

  So far Eva had managed to avoid much of the crowds, having spent the first half of the week in Adam Maxwell’s company. The memory of those days made her want to be alone, apart from all of this celebration and merriment so that she could sort out her feelings. She had elected to avoid his company the previous day by deciding her cupboards were low on supplies and she had to shop in town to restock.

  Eva had already spent two bad nights imagining Maxwell making love to her as Kevin stood in the background in censuring, hurt silence. The thought of Kevin had been effective in staying her and keeping her from Maxwell. But it had in no way stilled her desire or her need. What had settled instead was a kind of guilt and confusion-ladened depression. Part of it had to do with feeling as though she was afflicted with some inner energy, gravitating her closer and closer to the potent physical aura that was Maxwell. She felt herself opening up and responding to him in a way that, in her mind and admitted limited experience, could only be described as wanton. The other part of her depression was based on her growing knowledge that she wanted to experience all of it.

  There was a charm and persuasive power to the man that went beyond the hard outer shell he so effectively wore for the rest of the world. But Eva was starting to feel that she was already reaching beneath the façade. Yet it had to happen slowly, so afraid was she of being sucked into a vortex of heated emotions that would destroy her.

  On Wednesday morning Eva had driven to a small market just outside of Cruz Bay to do her shopping. It was as she stood in line at the checkout counter that she encountered the final link to set the depression firmly inside herself.

  A thin little girl of about ten or eleven walked cautiously up to her and looked into her face shyly. Eva saw her staring and smiled in a friendly fashion. The little girl, who was very pretty with a heart-shaped caramel-colored face and enormous black eyes, returned the smile.

  “Are you Diane’s friend?” she asked Eva.

  “Diane?” Eva questioned. “Oh you mean Diane Maxwell? Yes…I guess I am. Are you Dory?” Eva asked. Dory merely continued to stare at her and smile. “I understand you’re in the parade on Friday?” Eva ventured comfortably.

  “Uh-huh,” was the response from Dory, apparently not inclined to be a conversationalist. “Diane helped me with my costume. Are you coming to see it?”

  “I hope so.” Eva looked around her. “Are you alone? Is Diane with you?”

  “She went back to her father this morning.”

  “Oh, I see. But…”

  “Dory is with me,” came the sultry, lilting voice behind Eva. Her stomach churned as she twisted and recognized Lavona standing to the side. Lavona had her mass of thick wavy hair pulled back off her tawny face and pinned at the temples with combs. She wore an eyelet lace summer camisole, and it was obvious that she wore no bra with the flimsy top. She was well-built and proportioned, but Eva wondered that she had the nerve to be so blatant. The pretty top, however, did set off her creamy brown skin to perfection. It was worn with a pair of red slacks, molded to Lavona’s legs and hips.

  “Oh, hello,” Eva mouthed politely, stiffening nonetheless with remembered anger at the way Lavona tended to treat her. Lavona didn’t return the greeting, and Eva wondered in additional irritation if that was a habit she got from Adam, or he got from her.

  Lavona looked at Eva’s much less voluptuous form with an expression that could easily be interpreted as one of derision and amusement. She gave the little girl, Dory, her packages. �
�I be right out. Stand outside now.”

  Dory took the packages. “See you on Friday,” she said to Eva as she walked out of the store.

  “Bye, Dory,” Eva said to her retreating body. Eva took a deep breath and turned back to Lavona in curiosity. She found out at once that subtlety was not one of Lavona’s strong points, either.

  “Adam belongs to me, you know,” she announced silkily.

  Eva ground her teeth, hating to admit to herself that she loved the sound of this woman’s voice. She wondered, ruefully, how Maxwell could refuse this beauty anything when she said his name with such allure.

  “Does, er, he know this?” she asked Lavona blandly. Lavona’s lashes swept low over her round cheeks, and her eyes were momentarily veiled.

  “We’ve been together long time. He’s very happy with me.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Eva nodded, remembering Maxwell’s blunt description of his relationship to this woman. “But I don’t think he belongs to anyone.”

  “I just think you should know. He only wants one thing from you.” Lavona laughed lightly then, and that too was musical. “He all the time tell me what women are good for.”

  “Maybe that’s what you’re good for,” Eva interrupted angrily, “but he’d better not say so to me!”

  Lavona arched a brow knowingly. “You like Adam, very much. You very foolish. He forget you before long. You go back home and he stay here with me.”

  Eva took a slow, deep breath to fill her lungs and steady her body. Her hands were clenched into tight angry fists in the pockets of her sweater. There was certainly probability in what Lavona was saying. Eva also realized that she herself had more or less admitted to an interest in Adam Maxwell that had slipped out spontaneously. “I think you’re very foolish to let yourself be treated that way. Is that what you want?” she asked Lavona.

  Lavona shrugged her shoulder negligently. Eva was fascinated. This woman might look soft and feminine, but she was tough and sure of herself. “I get from Adam what I want. He’s very good-looking. All man, yes? But I won’t stay with him forever. I am going to marry a rich man who can take care of me. I’ll have pretty babies and a pretty home. Adam doesn’t want that.”

  Eva raised her brows at Lavona’s bold admission. “And I suppose you know what he does want?”

  Lavona grimaced prettily. “Me…” she purred. “For now. And his fish.”

  It was not lost on Eva that in Lavona’s mind, she apparently didn’t compete on either level. She stared blankly at Lavona, and it suddenly hit her how ludicrous, how funny it was to be standing in a food market having this conversation over a man who was only just beginning to be more than a stranger, with a woman she didn’t think very much of. Adam Maxwell could be much more to her. Did Lavona Morris actually see that in her? Could she be so much woman as to pick up on the dawning thoughts that she, Eva, may feel much more for Maxwell than made good sense? Florence Steward hadn’t raised any fools, and Eva fervently hoped she wasn’t going to disappoint her mother now.

  “I’m sure you mean well,” Eva said sarcastically to Lavona. “But I can take care of myself.”

  Lavona shrugged again. She didn’t care one way or the other. “Just so you don’t think that Adam will. You be very sorry otherwise.”

  And with that Lavona turned and gracefully made her way from the store. Eva stood watching her departure for long minutes. Lavona had been very effective whether or not she knew it. If Eva was unsure before, she was now filled with more doubts and fears.

  And even that afternoon as she met Deacon Butler and part of his family to attend the musical concert, Eva felt the mood persist, making it difficult for her to find a smile or to appear cheerful. She knew that she’d never have taken any of Lavona’s speculations and observations to heart if there wasn’t one or two truths in there somewhere.

  Her depression settled in deeper. Eva tried to read the face of her watch. It was almost ten thirty. She let out a sigh of relief. Eva knew that the last ferry back to St. Thomas had been postponed until twelve o’clock. Deacon would be leaving soon, and she could go home to bed. Suddenly the music didn’t seem so loud, and her headache was a low-grade throb she could live with for another hour or so.

  Deacon’s arm was across the back of her chair, his rough, callused fingers occasionally patting her arm. He was a nice man, but she hoped he didn’t think that anything more would develop from this casual evening. Eva liked him very much, but certainly not more than that.

  Eva turned her head in his direction, and her eyes caught a familiar body and face. Her eyes lifted and she found herself looking into the closed, hard gaze of Adam Maxwell. Beside him, looking exotic and lovely, was Lavona Morris.

  Eva’s stomach sank somewhere around her knees and her heart lurched to her throat. Adam was dressed in wheat-colored slacks and a short-sleeved black cotton shirt opened at the throat. The smoky haze of the room cast an eerie light and shadow over his features for a moment, so that his jaw and sensuous bottom lip seemed prominently outlined. Eva felt a familiar constriction in her chest at the sight of him. But Adam’s eyes swept briefly over her and away without any greeting or acknowledgment as Lavona claimed his attention with a slender hand to his arm.

  Lavona was dressed in a clinging black dress with spaghetti straps. It had slits up the sides and was cinched at the waist with a gold belt. With a hand at the back of her waist, Adam urged Lavona to the other side of the room and a vacant table. Lavona was lost to Eva’s view through the crowds of heads in front of her, but Adam’s shoulders and head were clearly discernable above everyone else, even as he slouched in his seat, an ankle lifted across his bent knee, very like the first time she’d seen him.

  A wave of inadequacy washed over her at once but it was more an indication of her own state of mind than it was of her physical attractiveness. Eva wore a taupe crepe dress, shirred at the shoulders. It had a mock wrap front that showed suggestively the deep valley of her breasts. It had a slim skirt to it and was also belted with a black crepe sash. While Lavona’s dress was obviously displaying her charms, Eva’s subtly hinted at hers, presenting a much more enticing picture.

  “You ready for another drink?” Deacon crooned in her ear, causing Eva to jump. His fingers rubbed the ball of her shoulder and a chill shook her that had nothing to do with the touch but rather with the apparent aloof indifference Adam had shown her seconds before. Had he completely wiped Monday and Tuesday from his mind? Was Lavona right about him?

  “Yes, please,” Eva murmured.

  “What would you like?”

  She shook her head and shrugged. “Anything…”

  She ended up having two more drinks and her head began to pound again. Deacon tried to persuade her to dance, but Eva firmly refused. She was continually drawn to Maxwell’s direction, but he seemed totally engulfed in either the music or Lavona. But in the following noise, movements, and music, Eva missed that he covertly watched her, too.

  Finally at eleven forty-five, Deacon, his sister, and brother-in-law rose to leave. Deacon kept a possessive arm about Eva’s shoulder, and she smiled at him, determined to leave Maxwell’s presence with equal indifference. The still night air was welcomed after the long hours inside the closed and stuffy restaurant hall.

  “I take you home now,” Deacon said.

  “No, don’t. That’s not necessary,” Eva said quickly.

  “Yeah, can’t have you travelin’ in the dark by yourself.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but there are too many people around for anything to happen to me. Besides, you’ll miss the last ferry,” Eva reasoned. That finally sank in.

  Eva walked with them to the ferry and watched them board. She was not surprised when Deacon gave her a quick affectionate kiss on the cheek and left her. She smiled sadly.

  “You come to St. Thomas again next week, yes?” he shouted at her from the ferry.

  “Maybe!” She waved as the boat slipped slowly from the dock.

  “Then I come back h
ere!”

  Eva laughed at the wide grin he gave her. “Goodnight!” she shouted as the engines began to rev. Then she walked to her Jeep for the short ride home.

  Eva was emotionally exhausted, but unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned in the bed for more than an hour, until the sheets were warmed from her body and uncomfortable. She climbed out of bed and went to take a quick, cool shower. She came out and toweled herself dry, prepared to try and sleep. But Eva stopped in mid action when there came the sound of footsteps on her gallery. Her heart thudded in terror, suddenly aware of her total isolation and vulnerability. Silently she reached for her silk kimono-styled robe and wrapped it quickly around her still-damp body. In the dark she tiptoed to the door connecting the gallery to her room.

  “Who is it?” she asked softly through the dark. The footsteps shifted, and a light was turned on causing Eva to blink painfully. Adam Maxwell stood in the glaring brightness, scowling at her. He quickly took in her scanty attire. Adam pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned against the wall, his rugged brown face oddly shadowed by the ceiling light.

  “Are you alone?” he asked.

  The question took her by surprise, but just for an instant Eva was tempted to prevaricate. Instead, she asked her own question. “Why do you want to know?” She leaned in the bedroom doorway, pulling the robe belt tighter around her waist. Maxwell’s eyes, somewhat overly bright, dropped to the movement and then slowly raised back to her face. It was hard for Eva to decide what look he wore now.

  “I wouldn’t want to, er, interrupt anything,” he said sarcastically.

  Eva let out a sigh of impatience. “The only thing you’re interrupting is my sleep. Do you realize it’s almost two o’clock?” Another thought quickly entered her mind, wiping away her defensive posture. “Where’s Diane?” she asked, frowning.

  Maxwell was still watching her in an odd way.

  “Diane is home. Dory Hamilton is staying with her tonight.”

  “And Lavona? Is she staying with you?” Eva asked before she could stop herself, because the thought that she might be right was suddenly so disturbing. She saw a sparkle, a light of challenge flash in Adam’s eyes. Eva bit down on the inside of her bottom lip and moved to sit at the glass and wrought-iron dining table. “What do you want?” she asked quietly, looking at him, but keeping her eyes low, somewhere around his chest and the opening of his shirt.