by Peggy Gaddis
“I don’t think that really means anything, Captain,” Claire assured him, smiling. “Women are funny people, you know — ”
Both the captain and Curt grinned at that.
“I’m afraid we don’t know, Miss Frazier, which is the reason we are badgering you like this.” It was the captain who spoke, his tone friendly, a twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t think, then, that Mrs. Barclay is afraid of the Major?”
“I don’t see how she, or anyone else for that matter, could be.”
“He is a self-confessed card-sharp, you remember,” Curt reminded her, and she turned on him swiftly.
“That’s not true,” she flashed. “Oh, I mean he confessed, but he was really lying because he wanted so much to return MacEwen’s money that he had won the night before, and it was the only way MacEwen would accept it.”
The captain nodded thoughtfully.
“That brings us to MacEwen,” he said after a moment. “Odd sort of fellow. Curt tells me that MacEwen has complained to him that Mrs. Barclay abuses her daughter.”
Curt spoke before Claire could get her thoughts in order.
“Which, of course, is the most outrageous nonsense,” he said swiftly. “Vera Barclay is devoted to the girl; too much so, maybe. She seems determined to keep Nora as much of a baby as she can, for fear, I suppose, that if she grows up as she should, she’ll marry and be lost to her mother.”
Claire studied him curiously, wondering if he really believed that, and Curt looked back at her steadily, as though daring her to deny it.
She lifted her shoulders in a tiny gesture that just barely missed being a shrug.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t be very helpful on that phase of the situation,” she drawled. “After all, Curt knows Vera much better than anyone else on board, I’m sure.”
Curt merely grinned, obviously completely undisturbed by the gentle taunt.
“She’s a very interesting woman,” he said politely.
“And beautiful.” Claire could not keep back the words.
“Oh, yes, that, too,” Curt agreed, and she thought there was a twinkle in his eyes as they studied her.
“Well, it’s a most disturbing business,” said the captain heavily. “I can’t remember when we’ve carried a passenger list like it, can you, Curt?”
“Well, we’ve never had a card shark aboard — sorry, Claire, he said he was — or an attempted suicide,” Curt agreed cautiously.
Claire smiled at the captain.
“Makes you wish that your ship had never been required to carry passengers as well as cargo, doesn’t it, Captain?” Her voice commiserated with his frame of mind.
He smiled warmly at her. “Oh, no, Miss Frazier. If we’d never carried passengers, we wouldn’t have had the pleasure of your company aboard,” he reminded her. And the slight flamboyance, the faintly old-fashioned gallantry were tempered by his obvious sincerity. “I — ah — I’ve been wondering about something else, Miss Frazier.”
Claire tensed slightly and said only, “Yes, Captain?”
“I believe that you are, at the moment, unemployed?”
“I’m on vacation, Captain,” she corrected him firmly.
“You plan to return to your work at the hospital when your vacation ends?” he pursued.
“Why, I really haven’t any plans, Captain.” She was puzzled but not offended at his persistence. “I want to have a visit with my parents in Honolulu, and I may decide to stay there. I resigned at the hospital, but if I should ever want to go back, they’ll accept me.”
“With great good pleasure and benefit to the hospital I’m sure,” the captain assured her. “I was wondering if we could dare offer you a job with our line?”
Claire’s eyes widened as she looked from one to the other.
“You mean aboard the Highland Queen?” she asked, bewildered.
The captain nodded, smiling at her bewilderment.
“You see, as things stand now, we may only carry twelve passengers because we don’t carry either a doctor or an RN,” he explained. “But there is space that could carry a larger number, if we had an RN aboard. And if we could persuade you to be that RN, we would all be very happy.”
“Very happy indeed,” Curt echoed politely, but there was a warmth in his voice that lent an unexpected emphasis to his words.
Claire looked from one to the other and laughed helplessly.
“You really are two of the most amazing men I’ve ever met,” she admitted. “I don’t know what to say — ”
“You don’t like the sea? Shipboard?” asked the captain anxiously.
“Of course I do. I’ve enjoyed every minute,” Claire soothed his anxiety. “It’s just that I’m not sure I would like it indefinitely. I mean, after all, I’m a landlubber. You’ll have to give me time to think about it.”
“It’s a good life,” Curt assured her, and there was more than a trace of eagerness in his voice. “I honestly believe you would like it. There’s enough variety about our ports of call to keep you from getting bored; we rarely know exactly where we are going when we set out or how soon we’ll get there. Some of our passengers have called us ‘The Good Ship, What’s Your Hurry?’ They seem to feel it’s a welcome relief from the hustle and bustle of life ashore.”
“I can see how it would be,” Claire answered, remembering the days of her training and then her service on Emergency and in other wards of the hospital where everybody but the patient, usually supine and helpless, seemed to be rushing about like mad.
She looked from one face to the other, saw the eagerness in their eyes, and added swiftly, “For a vacation, I mean. I’m not a bit sure how it would be for a steady diet.”
“We’d try very hard to keep you from being bored,” Curt assured her so eagerly that the captain shot him a swift, rather startled glance. “Promise you will at least consider it, won’t you, Claire?”
“Of course,” the captain cleared his throat as though bringing them back to a realization of his presence, “you understand, Miss Frazier, I’d have to get authorization from the home office of the shipping line, and we might not be able to offer you a very fancy salary — ”
Claire stood up, smiling.
“I’ll think about it, Captain,” she promised him. “But I must warn you I won’t be able to make up my mind until I’ve had my visit with my parents.”
“Of course, of course, my dear Miss Frazier,” answered the captain heartily. “Just bear us in mind, and we’ll give you an address at which you can cable us. Meanwhile, my most hearty thanks for all you’ve done.”
“I was glad to be of service, Captain, and thank you for everything.” Claire put her hand in his and turned toward the door. “Good night, and thank you both.”
Curt held the door for her and walked with her down the corridor to her own door. She paused at the door of the Barclay cabin and touched the knob. But the door was locked, as she had been certain it would be. Either Vera or Nora — and it was most likely to have been Vera — had fought off the effects of the sedative sufficiently to lock the door and slip the chain in place.
Claire leaned her ear close against the panel and heard a faint, lady-like but quite unmistakable snore. She smothered a smile, remembering how many times her most refined, most dignified feminine patients had emitted that same sound beneath the effects of a sedative.
Curt frowned at the locked door and offered a master key, but Claire shook her head, moving on to her own door before she answered, her voice quite low.
“They are both asleep and will be for at least eight hours,” she told him softly. “I’ll check with Vera in the morning, before breakfast. But I feel sure Nora is going to be fine.”
“You’re quite a girl,” said Curt quietly. And beneath the look in his eyes, Claire felt color rise in her cheeks. “I hope very much you will sail again with the Highland Queen as a member of the ship’s personnel. A very important member, by the way!”
“Well, thank you.”
She stepped through the door into her cabin, smiled at him and closed the door in his handsome face.
She sat down on the edge of her bed and stared straight ahead of her. It had been quite an evening, and she was trying to sort out her somewhat chaotic thoughts. She was much disturbed because the sorting was badly upset by memories of Curt’s handsome face, his deep, vibrant voice and his quite undeniable charm.
Chapter Twelve
Because it had been so late before she managed to get to sleep, Claire awoke late. And as she came from her stateroom, Vera was just emerging from her own, moving carefully glancing back over her shoulder as she drew the door shut behind her.
She was pale and drawn this morning, and not even the most careful make-up could conceal the fact. She greeted Claire with a nervous start and managed a smile that was unconvincing.
“Oh, hello,” she said softly. “My poor baby is still sleeping.”
“That’s good for her,” Claire said quietly. “I won’t disturb her then. I’ll come back later.”
Vera laid a hand on her arm and slowed her as they walked toward the salon.
“I can’t ever thank you, Claire, for saving her,” she managed huskily. “If I lost her — I wouldn’t want to live. I’d have nothing to live for. Everything I’ve ever done has been for her, to give her good things, nice clothes, good schools, the best of everything.”
Claire was touched by the aching sincerity in Vera’s voice. The next moment Vera said harshly, “Why did she do it, Claire? I’d told her everything was going to be all right — why couldn’t she believe me?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said gently. “But you mustn’t worry about her. She’s going to be quite all right — ”
“I just can’t understand why she would want to frighten me so,” Vera went on desperately. “Because, of course, she didn’t really mean to kill herself. She only pretended because she hates me!”
“Now, look, you mustn’t let yourself get overwrought and hysterical again,” Claire said firmly.
Vera drew a hard breath, and her chin steadied and went up a little.
“Oh, yes, that’s one against you in my book — having that Burke creature slap me! How she dared! And she looked as if she enjoyed it. That’s the unforgivable thing about it — that you ordered it and she enjoyed it! Curt, bless him, wouldn’t do it — ” Vera’s voice gained strength from rising anger at the memories she was evoking.
“It’s the traditional cure for hysteria, Vera,” Claire defended herself.
“Oh, I suppose so,” Vera answered curtly, and caught her breath and went rigid as she and Claire stepped into the salon and came face to face with Major Lesley.
He greeted them with his old-fashioned courtesy and seemed to find nothing unexpected in Vera’s rigidity or the sneer hatred that her eyes revealed as she met his.
“I do hope the little girl is doing well this morning?” Major Lesley asked her politely.
“I’m sure you’re very concerned about her.” Vera’s tone was an insolent slap in his face, and Major Lesley blinked and stepped back as she swept past him and on to the table where a few of the passengers were lingering over coffee and cigarettes.
Major Lesley watched her, and then he looked down at Claire and smiled.
“When you’ve had your breakfast, Claire, shall we have our regular constitutional around the deck? It’s a marvelous morning.” His tone was quite placid, and Claire studied him curiously.
“Why, yes, Major, I’d like that,” she answered, and he gave her his funny little bow and stepped out to the companionway and the deck.
Carl, the steward, smiled a warm greeting at Claire as he served her iced papaya juice, fresh crisp toast and bacon and eggs. The coffee was piping hot and delectable, and as the fragrance of the food rose, Claire realized how hungry she was.
Claire was in her usual seat, but Curt’s was empty. Obviously he had finished breakfast and departed to his duties. But the passengers lingered, eying Vera curiously, and Mrs. Burke murmured something to her friend Mrs. Hennessy. The two ladies smothered a laugh and left the table.
Angry color burned high beneath Vera’s make-up and her eyes flamed with anger as she watched them leave the salon, arm in arm, their ample bodies swaying a little to the gentle movement of the ship.
Claire was startled at the savage twist of Vera’s mouth and the blaze in her eyes. But she said nothing and went on with her breakfast. Vera ignored the food Carl placed before her and sat smoking, her eyes on space, her brows drawn together in a sullen frown.
Claire was just finishing her coffee when MacEwen came quickly into the salon, saw her, saw Vera, and hesitated, his jaw hardening. Then he came to Claire and, elaborately ignoring Vera, asked anxiously about Nora’s condition. Before Claire could reassure him, Vera turned her blazing eyes upon him.
“I really can’t see, Mr. Russell, why my daughter’s condition should concern you,” said Vera nastily.
MacEwen looked at her with eyes as cold and contemptuous as her tone.
“Can’t you, Mrs. Barclay? I happen to like Nora,” he said distinctly. “And what’s more, I happen to be sorry for her.”
Vera’s eyes widened slightly.
“Sorry for her?” she repeated as though she could not believe she had really heard him say that. “And may I ask why you should be sorry for her?”
“Well, since you’ve asked, chiefly because you are her mother,” said MacEwen furiously.
Vera caught her breath in rage.
“Why, you impossible creature! How dare you say that?” she gasped.
MacEwen met her eyes straightly.
“Because of the way you treat her, of course,” he said so distinctly that the few passengers lingering at the other end of the table heard and turned curious eyes on them. “If you treated a dog the way you treat her, Mrs. Barclay, the Humane Society would clap you in jail.”
Vera stared at him as though she could not believe her ears, and then, moving so swiftly that no one could guess her intention in time to try to stop her, she rose, picked up her coffee cup and hurled its contents straight into his face.
For an instant, as though startled at what she had done, Vera stared at the empty coffee cup and at its contents streaming down MacEwen’s face. Then she glanced about the table, turned swiftly and went at a stumbling run out of the salon.
Carl was busy with a napkin, mopping MacEwen’s face, and MacEwen’s grin was tight-lipped and without mirth.
“One thing we may say for freighter cruises, folks,” MacEwen addressed the other guests with an attempt at levity, “is that they are never dull. Not when there’s somebody like Mrs. Barclay aboard, anyway.”
He pushed Carl away, nodded and strode out of the salon.
“Now what the devil do you suppose that was all about?” Claire heard one of the other passengers ask his table companion.
“One thing I learned a long time ago is never to try to understand a woman,” his companion answered him. “Shall we get some fresh air?”
“By all means; I could use some after that little display,” the first speaker answered. And the two men rose, nodded smiling at Claire and took themselves off.
Claire declined Carl’s offer of more coffee and followed the men out on deck
Major Lesley was leaning against the railing, waiting for her and came eagerly to meet her.
The day was all that he had promised, and Claire smiled at him as she tucked her hand through his arm and they set out for their morning walk.
It was obvious that the little man’s mood was not as bright and gay as the morning, but they had made one complete turn about the deck before he put his thoughts into words.
“Miss Frazier, I’m truly, deeply sorry about that poor child,” he said unhappily.
Claire looked down at his unhappy eyes.
“She’s going to be quite all right, Major,” she told him, puzzled by his obvious concern.
“But she must have been in a terrific mental
disturbance to have attempted such a thing,” said the Major worriedly. “And I’m afraid I may have been responsible.”
“How could you have been, Major? You scarcely know the girl.”
He raised his eyes to meet hers and then looked away as he paused beside the railing and Claire stood waiting.
“But I’ve remembered where I first saw the mother and under what circumstances,” he confessed humbly, as though he admitted some crime.
“And you think that may have caused Nora to do what she did?”
Claire’s tone was touched with sympathy, though she could have only the vaguest possible idea what was troubling him.
Major Lesley nodded miserably. “Mrs. Barclay doesn’t remember me, but she’s frightened. And I wish she wouldn’t be. I very much wish she would realize that I have no intention of making any trouble for her.”
He looked up again at Claire, and his mouth was framed in a twisted attempt at a smile.
“I would like an opportunity to tell Mrs. Barclay that, but she avoids me,” Major Lesley explained painfully. “I’ve made several attempts to talk to her privately, but she always manages to slip away. It disturbs me very much that her fear of me may have caused the child to do what she did. And truly, Miss Frazier, Mrs. Barclay has nothing to fear from me. Nothing at all! I’ve retired!”
Claire was uneasy before his very real worry.
“I suppose all this sounds very mysterious to you, Miss Frazier, and I’d explain if I could, but I honestly feel it would be better for me to keep the unpleasant secret to myself,” he offered her a tacit apology.
“I’d much rather you did, Major,” Claire told him frankly. “A secret shared ceases to be a secret. It’s too bad you can’t manage to tell Mrs. Barclay that her secret is safe with you — ”
“I don’t suppose for a moment she would believe me if I did,” he sighed.
Claire felt sorry for him and laid her hand gently on his arm.
“Now look, Major,” she made her tone gay and rallying, “this is the trip you’ve planned for and saved for and studied for all these years. I just won’t have it spoiled for you by such worries. Whatever Mrs. Barclay’s secret may be, since you have no intention of revealing it to anyone, you mustn’t let it spoil your trip.”
