Emily’s disclosures had, if anything given substance to her feelings toward Clay. Her feelings were now based on more than physical attraction, on more than idealized admiration because of the book and his diving skills. He was suddenly real and somehow vulnerable and the insight into his past enabled her to sense that she could entrust the most guarded parts of herself with him.
…
In order to see Clay’s boat Christina’s eyes strained against the early afternoon sun, but it was gone and disappointment crossed her face as she pulled up beside the small shop near the dock. Joe was working outside, his dark, muscular torso bent laboriously over the roofing material he was about to lift and carry up the ladder.
“Joe…hi.”
“Miss Weldon!” His wide smiling face greeted her with nods of genuine pleasure. “How are you this fine day?” He wiped his brow with his forearm.
“I was thinking I might find Clay but it looks like he’s gone and left you with the dirty work.
Wiping his hands on a soft rag drawn from a back pocket Joe approached the car and agreed, “You know, Miss Weldon, I was thinking the same thing myself.” His face remained lit with good humor.
Christina wished she didn’t have to ask. “Clay having a diving lesson today?” Her tone was casual, almost disinterested.
“No, he took Penny over to St. Thomas last night as soon as he got back…but he’ll be back by 6:30.”
Joe’s announcement hit Christina with an internal force that stopped the breath within her. For a moment her thoughts seemed to flee and her words, her questions fell into an abyss of speechless shock.
Behind Joe, a man approached and said, “Could you help us? Do you work here?” The woman beside him was carrying a scuba tank.
Joe turned from Christina. “Hi there, how may I help you?”
“We’ve broken a valve on my wife’s tank. If we can’t fix it we’ll need to rent another one for a few days.”
Joe turned back to Christina. She was looking blankly in the direction of the couple. He reached out and touched her hand. “It was good to see you again today. I’ll tell Clay that you were by.”
“No, no…don’t do that please Joe…okay?” Her eyes displayed an inner degree of mounting emotion.
Joe tilted his head with suggested confusion and concern. “Are you all right, Miss Weldon?”
Christina reached for the sanctuary of her sunglasses. “Yes, Joe, I’m fine…ah…I just don’t want Clay to know that I was here, okay? It’s important. I want to…” she searched for words “…to surprise him later.”
“We’re sort of in a hurry” the woman said from behind Joe.
“No problem,” he responded with a wide smile, ignoring her.
“If you ever need help with another dive Miss Weldon, I hope you’ll include me. That was really exciting. My wife is very anxious to see the ring.”
“Thank you Joe. I’ll see you again…probably.” Christina was now fighting tears and she sniffed in control.
Joe scowled, “You drive home careful now, okay?” His voice softened in concern.
“Okay, goodbye Joe…don’t worry about me…I just hate to leave the islands…it makes me sad.” Christina tried to laugh at herself in a casual manner that might reassure Joe that nothing was wrong.
Minutes away from the dock Christina realized she was driving too fast and that her emotions were clouding her judgment. Slamming on the brakes at the side of the road a cloud of dust engulfed the car as she reached the outskirts of town. Seizing her sun glasses, Christina threw them to the seat and covered her eyes with her fingers. Rough spasms of air rushed through her hands as she wept.
“Damn…damn…damn…!” Christina hit the steering wheel violently with both hands enunciating each explanation. “How could I have been so god damn gullible,” she cried to the empty car.
Emily’s words were ringing in her ears. “Everyone knows about Penny.” Yes, Christina had known about Penny from the beginning and had it stopped her from making a fool of herself? Had it stopped her from…? Tears burned down Christina’s face, its surface sensitive from weeks of exposure to sun and salt water.
…
The house was empty when Christina arrived and she was glad that she did not have to face Agatha. She felt empty and furious at the same time and looking at herself in the mirror she saw the inner destruction that would have been all too evident to Agatha’s probing eyes.
As a clock, somewhere in the room behind her, struck 2:30, Christina turned from the mirror and ran impulsively to the phone.
“When is the next flight off the island? ...I don’t care where…anywhere off this island in the direction of Seattle but I can connect with some flight to there tomorrow. I want to leave Tortola this afternoon.” There was a pause.
“Puerto Rico…? Four…? That will be fine.” Another pause. Christina’s mind raced feverishly over her packing needs.
“Christina Weldon… Yes… Thank you. I’ll be on it.”
Hanging up the phone Christina forced her eyes shut and as she pressed her fist hard against her teeth her tears becoming weaker, more tired, more painful.
Another call to Jonathan cemented her plan. “Jonathan, I don’t care if the Vaughn’s will be unhappy. I have to leave right away.” Christina began a series of insistences in the face of Jonathan’s protests. “I insist that you take me - I will leave a note explaining everything - I’ll have my suitcases ready in 30 minutes - Would you help me with them please? - Jonathan I’m sorry that Mrs. Vaughn will be upset but I must insist.”
…
The landforms below the aircraft looked familiar, like old friends waiting on the clear turquoise surface of a mystical playground. They had not changed in these many weeks and across these many years but Christina had. She closed her eyes and settled back into the plane’s cushioned seat. She had changed a great deal. And now, her life would never be the same. She was certain of that.
Christina breathed deeply. Arthur would probably be reading the note soon. Perhaps Agatha had already intercepted it.
Dear Arthur,
I realize that it is unforgiveable for me to leave in this fashion but I must for reasons that I cannot explain. You and your mother have been marvelous hosts and your handling of the dive and all the problems was superb.
Jonathan did not want to take me to the airport without your knowledge but despite his protests I’m afraid I insisted.
Arthur your friendship is very important to me and I ask that you trust this impulsive action on my part. I will try to explain it to you later.
For my father’s sake I will return for the ceremony if you’ll let me know sometime in advance.
Again, thank you for all of your kindness, your patience and above all, your friendship.
Love, Christina
…
H. Trent Weldon looked wryly at his young daughter and took another bite from the richly jellied muffin. Following the path of her eyes he looked out of the window to the object of her absent gaze. The mailman was walking cautiously up the slippery, wet brick walkway of the comfortable Tudor house.
“It’s not my manner to pry Christina, but in the two weeks since your return you seem to have developed a particular interest in the post. Would it be inappropriate of me to ask what you’re expecting?”
Christina turned and a warming smile softened her expression. She took both of her father’s hands. “I haven’t been very good company have I? I’m sorry…I guess I’m sort of feeling let down after all of the excitement over the ring.”
Rubbing the backs of her fingers with his thumbs, H. Trent observed, “Your letters had a tone that led me to believe perhaps that you were falling in love with Arthur while you were in Tortola. He hasn’t written has he?”
“Oh no…not with…I mean…” Christina stopped her confession, “…Arthur and I are just good friends, Daddy. I think I had somewhat of a crush on him when he was in Seattle but together…well… we sorted that out. Actually, I�
��ve been looking for the photographs of the dive to arrive. I really am very anxious for you to see them.”
“I missed you a great deal while you were gone, Christina. At first I think I even pouted a bit…I know I felt cranky when you called…the night I told you it was inconvenient to talk. Don’t know why I said that. Wanted to call you right back but I didn’t. It would be correct of me to say that I realized how dependent I’d become on you.”
“Oh, Daddy…”
“No, now let me finish. It was wrong to have taken so much of your young life with my needs. After your mother’s death…,” H. Trent’s voice cracked with emotion as it always had when he mentioned her mother. “I think I concentrated too much on my career and too little on you. You should have had more time for yourself, more time with boys and dances and….”
“Daddy, please. I wouldn’t have wanted my life different and I know all I need to know about men, believe me. We traveled around maybe more than I liked, but you have been a wonderful parent…really.”
“I don’t agree. I’m feeling better now, as you know, and Dean Fuller has offered me a small seminar in the fall if I want to return to classroom work. I think I might give it a try. But…regardless of my decision Christina I think you should feel the freedom to perhaps get your own apartment in the near future. Mrs. Landers has proven she can put up with my idiosyncrasies and she’s even proven to be a worthy chess opponent and we rather get on quite well. She can continue to take care of the house and you will be free to pursue your own career and interests. I’ll help you financially, of course.”
Christina suddenly recognized that her father too had seen the stagnation that had occurred in their isolated inter-dependence and that he had developed a degree of interest in another relationship while they were apart.
“You devil you; you’re kicking me out for Mrs. Landers…aren’t you?” Her voice teased him and she looked at H. Trent from a new perspective.
Despite the obvious physical stress that his heart attack had caused he was a very handsome man of 63 and in the university mainstream there were probably many women who would welcome his company. Christina looked at her father and realized that they had both, in their different ways, hidden from the rest of the world. They had retreated into their work and the safety of their relationship. Within their relationship there was no risk. Love was implied - a given fact - loving others involved potential loss. In this process however, they had also hidden from the truth of the impact of the loss of her mother. Christina was suddenly struck with the realization that neither of them had let go of her mother in a healthy way. They had both just come home from her funeral and stopped really living themselves. Now both had encountered the real world outside of their relationship and returning to their secluded pretense was no longer possible.
Ending the conversation, H. Trent said, “I think you should get the mail and not let your imagination run away with you.”
They both laughed with the relief the discussion had brought to their polite relationship. It would now be easier to be honest with her father, but the idea of moving away seemed somehow immediately frightening. In Tortola she had contemplated a life away from her father and with Clay but now with her father’s suggestion that she was losing even him, in a manner of speaking, she felt suddenly…
Christina excused herself and with a sense of desperation beginning to overtake her, ran out into the rain to see if anything…anything at all that would serve as some excuse to think of something else had been left in their mailbox.
Chapter 21
The photographs didn’t arrive at the Weldon residence until two weeks later and were waiting unopened, on the hall table one afternoon when Christina returned from the store. Swallowing deeply Christina put her parcels down on the floor of the hall and slowly reached for the brown envelope. The letter on top of the photographs was from Arthur.
Dear Christina,
You were correct to assume that my mother would be truly shocked by the unannounced haste of your departure. I would have called you, but I decided that your reasons were, as you suggested, probably quite personal and that I would respect your privacy.
I do regret, however, that our friendship is not such that I couldn’t have been of some help to you here at the time.
I assume that your departure had something to do with Clay. He came by the night you disappeared and left rather hurriedly after learning of your decision. I haven’t seen him since then. Joe delivered the photographs to me and said Clay wanted them sent to you so that you might share them with your father. They are wonderful, you’ll have to agree.
The officials have become particularly excited about the ring and the details of its placement within the cannon. Everyone loves a good romance story with shadings of tragedy, I guess.
A dedication ceremony is being planned for late August, a little longer than Mr. Pennwalter suggested but it should be a great affair. I hope that both you and H. Trent will attend. Mother, (who “forgives you,” she insists I say) wants you both to be our guests during your stay.
I will call you sometime next week. I miss you and hope that you are well.
Sincerely,
Arthur
Leaving the groceries unattended on the floor of the hallway, Christina walked swiftly to her room to look at photographs. As he had in his book Clay created a story with his pictures. It was a story, not about a clinical archeological search but a story about a love affair that had transcended time. The photographs were expertly conceived to invoke in the viewer, both a feeling of excitement and intrusiveness into the watery mystery. Clay had photographed her, with perhaps unconscious intent, in such a manner as to explore her very being. They showed her one moment naïve and unsure and in another the epitome of self-confidence and expertise. In only one photograph did Clay himself appear. Just before they had departed a fellow boatman had taken a picture of the entire crew. The sight of Clay ran a shiver along Christina’s spine, but hurt welled up within her and she tossed the picture quickly aside. The last photograph to appear from the protective tissues inserted between them shook Christina with surprise. It was out of place and had little relationship to the others. It was a picture of Christina smiling excitedly back towards Clay her hand displaying the ring thrust high in the air. Light reflecting off the ring caused the picture to look mysteriously hazy and dreamlike. Clay had taken it in the cabin just after the ring’s discovery…just after he had put it on her finger. The picture was an intimate statement of what had happened between them. He had captured their experience in her eyes and in her momentary romance with the ring. In the photograph the ring had metaphorically been reunited with its hopeful young Spanish owner and she was alive with her inner secret, the acknowledgement of her love by the young adventurer.
How could he have taken such a photograph, so filled with apparent caring and yet be so deceitful to both her and Penny? Despair and confusion reawakened within Christina. In the past month she had been able to push some of her feelings down; she had been able to pretend that the experience had been somewhat out of the real context of her life, that it was perhaps even an exaggerated inner fantasy. The photograph made the intimate experience with Clay all too real and as she sank weakened into the chair the picture slipped silently from her fingers onto the cold surface of the floor. Christina stared mindlessly at the ceiling and a single tear crossed from the corner of her eye to her hairline.
…
By early August, Christina had been in her new apartment for one month. She had occupied herself in decorating concerns, in cutting and highlighting her hair and in finishing her paper on the discovery of the ring. Her tan had been re-established to the degree possible in Seattle and she had made several weekend trips to Victoria and Vancouver, British Columbia.
Having postponed making reservations for Tortola until the last minute, Christina, in the second week of August, half-heartedly hoped that they couldn’t make arrangements for travel. When the travel agent finally confirmed
their reservations Christina felt a strange mixture of regret and apprehension, but her father’s excitement helped bolster her own doubts.
…
During the flight, H. Trent Weldon displayed a nervousness that Christina had not seen before in her father. In the earlier years of her life, H. Trent had been involved in rather frequent archeological discoveries but of late she realized, the recognition he received had become more indirect, almost entirely the result of his earlier work. Their participation in the public acknowledgement of the ring would be a marvelous tribute to her father’s life work and the recognition was coming at a time in his life that would have great meaning for him.
As the plane taxied up to the simple terminal building in Tortola, Christina remembered her arrival here almost six months earlier. It seemed a lifetime ago now, somewhere back in her distant past. So much had changed within her that she felt a sense of amusement at her earlier fears and misgivings about being away from home.
“I’m rather looking forward to seeing Arthur’s mother after all of these years.” H. Trent commented as he peered out the window toward the terminal.
“I’m sure Agatha will be equally interested in seeing you again,” Christina replied anxiously looking out the window herself.
“There he is; there’s Arthur.” Somehow she felt surprised that Arthur looked the same. It seemed that he too should have experienced the metamorphosis and change that she sensed had occurred to her.
As she moved towards Arthur’s welcoming posture the familiar salt-scented air of the island smoothed the travel weary expression on Christina’s face. Holding her hand up playfully to halt his greeting, Christina chided, “No, no, no…don’t tell me. Let me guess. Jonathan had a meeting and just didn’t have time to come and meet us.”
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