Other Islands: Book Three of the Hook & Jill Saga

by Andrea Jones

  With defiance in the toss of her head, Jill removed a napkin to reveal a glass. Already, it cupped the amber wine. Her glass was half empty. You see, my husband, she seemed to say, your wife can’t resist a temptation. I indulged myself while I was waiting.

  And her husband believed her. With no further invitation, he brought the bottle to his lips, and imbibed. Jill watched as if counting his swallows. Presently she claimed the bottle for herself. She refilled her glass and resealed the cork. Laying the vessel in its net, Jill bid him chill it again. As it sank in the sea, Hook nodded in satisfaction. Were he that man below, he’d believe in Jill, too. This picnic’s purpose was nearly accomplished.

  But Lean Wolf had partaken enough of the victuals. Clearly, he felt the urge to devour his wife. Rising to his knees, he gripped her in his arms. Responding in kind, she pressed against him, opening her lips as she drew his down to hers. Soon she shrugged her right shoulder, slipping off one strap of her shift. Eagerly, her husband followed her lead, nestling his face in her neck. This time, Hook did not decline to witness their kisses. He bared his teeth, counting his heartbeats.

  Shoving the food to one side, Lean Wolf dragged his wife down, to lie with her on the quilt. As if in accord with Hook’s sensibilities, a gull cried out. Hook beheld Jill’s arms at work, stripping the vest from her lover’s body. Her jewels flashed on her fingers, and her crimson hand clawed at his breechclout. Naked as the merfolk, Lean Wolf lay full upon her, the russet skin tight at his backside. More than ready, he was, to feast at her banquet. Distasteful as Hook deemed this scene, yet he elected to let his gun lie.

  Already, another weapon was at work.

  CHAPTER 31

  Invisible Visions

  Thigh deep in clear, cool water, Raven and Willow dug their toes in the grit of the riverbed, to steady themselves against the rushing current. Together they rinsed a blanket, then dragged it toward shore. With her little one swathed in the cradleboard on her back, Willow took care with her footing. She was surprised when White Bear appeared at her elbow.

  “Let me help you, Wife,” he said, hefting the weight of the wet cloth for her.

  “But this is my work, White Bear. You need not concern yourself with washing, especially when you have business with the council.”

  “Our business is done,” he answered, “and this work is heavy for a woman who gave birth half a moon ago.” Although he appeared self-conscious about the task, White Bear helped the two women as they hauled the waterlogged cloth to the bank and wrung it out, spattering the pebbles. The scent of clean, damp wool pervaded the air, and, like the village around them, its colors burned bright in the sunshine.

  Willow’s sweet smile graced her face. “Your strength is welcome, Husband. You make our chore easier.”

  White Bear grunted his acknowledgment. When the blanket was stretched to dry in a sunny spot of the river bank, he addressed the other woman of his household.

  “Raven,” he said, in the strangely hushed tone he used for her since their union. He spoke as if guarding his gruff voice, so as not to place too much emphasis on her name. “Your visit with Lelaneh was interrupted the other day. On the council’s behalf, I must go to the Clearing. I will escort you there this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, White Bear,” Raven said. Her only sign of change in her relations with White Bear was the blue jay feather she wore in her hair. She had allowed Willow to believe that it symbolized only the rite of passage she had undergone, her end-of-mourning, but in fact it held dual meaning for its wearer. As always when Willow was watching, Raven avoided the intimacy in White Bear’s eyes. She wondered if doing so only made her feelings more obvious. To counter that impression, she ventured a glance at White Bear, and immediately regretted it. Raven saw by the man’s intensity that their sojourn to the Clearing was meant to be more of a tryst than an errand. In spite of her resolve to discourage him, a pang of desire surged through her, and Raven’s heart leapt with eagerness. Managing to keep her voice level, she said, “I will prepare.”

  White Bear donned the moccasins he had retrieved from the woodlands yesterday, and settled farther down the river’s edge to talk with Panther, leaving the two women to finish the washing. Only when she and Raven were working alone again did the other explanation for White Bear’s attentiveness occur to Willow. She stood up straight, almost forgetting to move slowly for the baby’s sake. Gently, she jostled the baby with a soothing rhythm, and she smiled.

  “Now I understand White Bear’s behavior. Raven, he comes to the river to watch you. And not in the old way, with a crease between his eyes. He looks at you softly, the way he looks at Baby.”

  “You are imagining it, Willow. Your husband helps us because he considers your welfare. You must not overdo. He knows that Baby takes her nourishment from your body, and that you must keep yourself strong.”

  Willow nodded, wisely. “My sister, you are too shy or too headstrong to admit the truth. I understand that when White Bear found you after your ritual, he won your trust at last.”

  “Yes, Willow. White Bear won my trust.” Two days ago, after declaring her love to White Bear and consummating it so ardently, Raven was grateful to accept her lover’s consideration as he bore her weary body home. But she had roused at the edge of the encampment, insisting that White Bear set her down. She sensed that his pride might be pleased to show off his new wife, but, wishing to spare Willow the gossip that would ensue, Raven could not allow her sister’s husband to carry her farther. She had walked into the village, a woman accompanied, but not acquired.

  “Raven, you may confide in me. You know I wish for you to find contentment.”

  “I told you when we returned home, Willow. White Bear and I came to an understanding that day, and now all is well between us. Your husband and I talked of our care for you and for Baby, and as we talked, my respect for him grew even deeper.”

  “Well, respect makes a smooth path for a man and a woman to walk. It is the ground on which White Bear and I stood, when we began our lives together.”

  The women gathered their baskets, and turned to climb the slope toward their tepee. Raven felt relief when her feet left the pebbles of the riverbank for the soft grass of the dwelling place. She breathed more freely, too, as Willow seemed to accept Raven’s evasion concerning her feelings for White Bear.

  Yet Willow had not finished with the subject. Raven’s steps faltered as, delicately, Willow continued, “I know that, even after your end-of-mourning, you can never forget your life with Ash. No man can take his place in your heart. Not even White Bear, who to me is the only man worthy of my love. Of course my husband cannot replace yours, but you may find in him a helpmeet. Even though you may share little passion, he will be an ally upon whom you may rely.”

  Thus expressed, Willow’s outlook made Raven more determined to sail to the Other Island. Willow’s happiness lay at stake. She must never learn of White Bear’s new attachment to Raven, nor of Raven’s true feeling for White Bear. “Willow, I…” But Raven possessed no words to prepare her sister for her departure. To disappear without explanation would be too cruel. Raven must think how best to warn Willow of her intent to leave— and she must do it quickly.

  Willow saw her sister’s struggle, and her eyes offered comfort. “Please trust me, sister. You will find contentment once White Bear gives you a child.”

  In her distress, Raven’s arms gave out, and she dropped the basket she was carrying. Grateful to hide her face from Willow, Raven bent to haul it up again, and kept her back turned as she brushed imaginary debris from the bottom.

  Willow did not know of Raven’s determination to evade pregnancy, but Raven knew that White Bear remembered. Three times she had caught him gazing at her, his gray eyes puzzling. As she had done long before they made love, Raven avoided closeness with the brother-in-law who thought of himself as her husband. Yet she knew White Bear to be as stubborn as herself. Although he ceased to press her to allow him between her blankets, she had suspecte
d that he hoped for secret time with her elsewhere. After his offer to escort her to the Clearing, Raven was keenly aware that, unless she resisted, today’s walk would lead to the raptures they’d enjoyed two days before. And, perhaps, to the entanglement of a child.

  Gazing down to the river bank where White Bear sat straight and proud, a finer figure than any of the other warriors, Raven doubted her will to forbear. Even now she longed to caress his copper skin, to soothe the scars his past battles had earned him. Forgoing her feelings had been easier when White Bear held so little esteem for Raven. How long could she deny her yearning, now that he reciprocated it? How much damage could the emotion she felt for this man— this love fully shared by her loved one— inflict on her sister’s marriage?

  Raven was certain of one fact. Only her absence could ensure her sister’s serenity. Within days, Raven expected the signal from the Black Chief. Whether with child or no, she must vanish from her sister’s home. Raven must leave Willow here, secure in her position as White Bear’s only wife, as the only mother of White Bear’s children, and as the single recipient of her husband’s love.

  In the same way she had steadied herself against the rushing of the river, Raven tried to fight the tide of her emotion. She labored up the slope, lugging her basket of washing, grappling, too, with her very nature. Raven knew herself. She knew her passions still flamed as brightly as they’d burned for her husband Ash. She knew that White Bear had succeeded him.

  Should she— and could she— deny herself just one last hour of ardor?

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  As Lean Wolf stirred, he sensed the cold and closeness of a cavern. Dim light greeted his eyes, but instead of the earth-scent of his cave, he detected an odor of fish. He recollected that he lay by the seashore, at the Mermaids’ Lagoon. At his side, where Red Hand’s voluptuousness should warm him, he viewed an empty place on her quilt. Rubbing the cloth, he found that it, too, was cool. Red Hand had returned to the sea.

  He had slept soundly after their tryst, awakening with a tangy taste on his tongue and the memory of her touch at his loins. He couldn’t recall moving from the water’s edge to this cavern. Woozily, he half wondered now if he’d dreamt their encounter. Raising a forearm to his nose, he sniffed his skin. Red Hand’s perfume prickled into his nostrils, confirming that he had, in truth, held his wife in his embrace. Along with the pride of his conquest, he felt a sense of shame at his memory lapse. But he would never let on to Red Hand that the drink she served him befuddled his mind. Wife or no, no woman would laugh that he might be weak against firewater. Sighing, Lean Wolf let her scent fill his mind instead, and he felt the resultant urges swell his branch. He stroked it, surprised at how promptly his hardness formed again, so soon after sating his wife. No matter how many times he enjoyed her, it seemed she just left him lusting for more.

  He rolled to sit up. His vest and breechclout awaited, neatly folded. Peering out the cave’s entrance, he saw the glimmer of waves as they licked at the rock shelf, green and luscious. But, except for his canoe, the shelf itself lay unoccupied. No sea creatures basked there. Lean Wolf felt a rush of disappointment.

  His need resurged. It was urgent; he hadn’t the patience, today, to fish for a mermaid. His yellow bird had flown. His old friend White Bear had appropriated Raven’s interest, for now. Where was a man to find comfort with a simple, warm-blooded woman?

  The answer was obvious. Smirking, Lean Wolf drew on his clothing. He rolled up the quilt and left it for his next opportunity. For a moment, he paused to allow his foggy mind to remember what Red Hand arranged for their coming encounter. He envisioned her, brazen in sunlight, her shape barely veiled by lace on white linen, her eyes the blue of blossoms that bloomed in a crevice by his cavern. And she’d spoken, with a mixture of offering and authority: “I’m to sail again soon, Husband. But don’t think I’ll neglect you. We shall have an afternoon of adventure together. Watch for me, with the third sun from now, at midday. Open our cavern, and I’ll come to you— soon.”

  “Not soon enough, Yellow Bird,” Lean Wolf muttered now, flexing his biceps to feel her kerchief stretch tight on its bulge. Walking stiffly, he strutted into the afternoon. He set his canoe on the water. “And I’ll decide, Wife, if you’ll sail, or if you’ll stay in your cage.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  White Bear was guarded as he approached the Clearing. For the People of the tribe, two of its residents remained outcast and Invisibles. He judged that he and Raven might enter here without violating taboo, but circumspection required that their visit be restricted to the corner where the tepee of Rowan and Lightly stood. As an elder of the tribe, he, more significantly than anyone, must uphold its customs.

  Accordingly, when to the accompaniment of the parrot’s shrilling he and Raven presented themselves, he waited under the garden trellis, unresponsive to the curious gazes of Lily and the children until the twin men greeted him. In order to avoid undue offense, White Bear also ignored the other inhabitants, including Lelaneh, who, seeing Raven, entered the house and returned with a packet. The third woman, Red Fawn, did not show herself.

  White Bear bore white paint on his face this afternoon, a crescent notched like an unstrung bow, outlining his face from eyebrow to chin, indicative of diplomacy. Also in white, a bear paw print, claws downward, was painted on his other cheek. As usual, his arrows hung at his back, and he’d strapped his knife at his knee. He carried a long, thin buckskin wrap, thickly fringed and elaborately beaded, like his moccasins, but darker and more pliable, showing its age.

  Standing proud, he announced to the men, “I bring word from the Council of Elders. I seek pow-wow with Rowan Life-Giver, and with Lightly of the Air.”

  Astonished, Rowan drew nearer. He hadn’t expected any member of the tribe to look at him or his partner, far less to ask for them by the names the elders had bestowed and then denied. But Rowan’s sharp, carved features remained stolid. The first Man of the Clearing asked, “Do you welcome this warrior?”

  Rowan said, “The warrior White Bear is welcome. Lightly of the Air is not present, but I will hear the council’s words.” Indicating the tepee, he stepped back and lifted the door flap. Beside it, Walking Man’s mark of taboo showed stark on the hide.

  Before White Bear moved to enter, he spoke again to the Men of the Clearing. “My second wife, Raven, requests counsel from the herbalist.”

  Ignoring the sensation that his claiming of Raven caused among the women, White Bear turned to Raven and pointed to a grassy spot near the tepee. She followed him there, unfolding the blanket she carried and spreading it out. The two braves then entered the tepee. Discreetly, Lily gathered the children to play along the stream bank in the woods behind the house, but Lelaneh joined Raven, as requested, folding her long legs and sweeping her hair to one side. The two women settled just out of earshot of the men.

  The area was pleasant. Now that she had permission to enter the Clearing, Raven took time to understand its appeal to the Outcasts. The flowers at the edge of the green lay open in the warmth of day, spreading their essence. Shade trees arched high overhead, filling the air with the buzzing sounds of summer. A work shed provided occupation for the twin men, and the house stood sturdy, a welcome shelter from weather and predators. The red-tinted smoke that rose from the smaller dwelling’s chimney gave a cheery, welcoming feel. Still, Raven was struck by the quiet, and by the lack of village activity.

  With a spur of pain, Raven felt herself to be a kindred spirit to the Outcasts. She recognized the alienation she must endure, once she sailed away from her tribe, and her sister…and from the husband who offered to fill her lonesome heart with love. In the depths of her soul, the reality resounded: however pleasant her next dwelling place might be, her first home would haunt her forever. These thoughts were too melancholy, and she narrowed her thinking in order to accomplish the tasks she must tackle before taking leave of her family.

  Soon a cloud of tobacco puffed from the tepee, bringing its mellow smell, and Rav
en and Lelaneh understood that the men passed the peace pipe that White Bear had carried. They looked at one another, Lelaneh’s smile all-encompassing, and Raven’s bittersweet.

  Lelaneh said, “First my status is restored, cleansed of taboo. Now, I gather, Rowan and Lightly are accepted, too! Tell me Raven. How came these good things to happen?”

  “White Bear is reserved, but from what he does say, we learned that the council have yielded to the will of the People. In the night, the villagers sewed a new tepee for Rowan and Lightly. Before dawn they erected it over fresh tent poles, and rekindled their cooking fire. This gesture made it clear even to Walking Man that the People overlook an old custom in order to honor these braves. White Bear speaks for us all. We wish to welcome our Messengers home.”

  “So the People, too, hold good judgement, and now teach the elders to change. I wish Red Fawn had not stepped out to collect her Neverlilies. She has missed the moment. But still, this news brings wings to the hearts at the Clearing.”

  “As I have learned, most changes are difficult, but some may bring joy.”

  “I see a new light on your face, Raven. Whatever change has come to you may be a fortunate one. Two days ago you ran from this very spot, in dread of White Bear. Now he calls you wife, and you speak of him with pride.”

  Raven fingered the jaybird feather that dangled at her collar bone. She had added beads to its clip, and more jay plumes she had found in the forest, white and blue with stripes of black. Her short hair felt smoother to her now, balanced out by the beauty of this headdress.

  Lelaneh respected Raven’s hesitation to speak. She offered the packet. “If you still wish for it, here is your tea.”

  “Of the changes that have occurred, nothing has caused me to alter my resolve. Yes, Lelaneh, I accept it, with thanks.” Raven tucked the packet of herbs in her pouch.