by Bobbi Smith
Absent from the island for many months now, Father Pierre was eagerly looking forward to a reunion with his old friends Jacques Duchant and Chief Luatu. He was also anxious to meet the two white men who, according to the Kikini natives, had been washed ashore on Malika after the bad storm several weeks before. Spotting the children waving to him from the beach, he stood up and returned their greeting.
The little ones, recognizing the priest even at a great distance, ran excitedly to the village with the news. The drums quickly spread the word of his imminent arrival, and the people, always glad to see the gentle missionary, turned out en masse to greet him. Jumping into their canoes, they paddled quickly out to sea to meet his canoe.
Delighted with his welcome, when the boats had at last pulled into the shore, Father Pierre quickly climbed from his own outrigger to embrace each of his joyous followers. Glancing up, he saw Luatu at the edge of the beach. Taking a baby in his arms and holding another child by the hand, he led the way to the chief.
When Luatu had heard of Father Papin's imminent arrival, he, too, had hurried down to the beach and had waited at the edge of the forest in dignified restraint for the priest to come to him.
Surrounded by the welcoming throng of villagers, Father Pierre crossed the sands to greet Luatu.
"It has been a long time, my friend." Father hugged him.
"Too long," the chief agreed. "Were your visits to the other islands successful?" he inquired as they started off toward his home.
"The Lord only knows," Papin answered, his eyes twinkling.
"Word of your arrival has already been sent by the drums, so I am sure Jacques will be here soon."
"Thank you. Is he well? And Espri?" Father Pierre had a special fondness for Luatu's granddaughter. He had watched her mature, and he knew that the man who captured her heart would win a prize of untold value.
"Jacques is fine and so is Espri," Luatu informed him.
"I have greatly missed Malika's beauty and its love," Father Pierre declared as he kissed the baby and handed her over to her smiling mother. Then, with a quick blessing, he dismissed the crowd, promising to spend time with each of them later, after his visit with their chief.
"It is good that the people love you," the chief remarked as he watched his people disperse.
"It is an unbroken circle," Pierre responded sincerely as they settled in at the dining hut. "Now, tell me what has happened on my favorite island. I am sure I have missed much during my time away."
And Luatu began to regale him with tales of the island's happenings.
Some distance away, Manti heard the message of the drums and grew livid. The interloper had returned! Hatred filled him, for the white priest's preachings of one loving God had begun to erode his own power over the Malikans. Furious, he stormed off to the village, determined to try to prevent Father Pierre from gaining any more influence over his people.
His expression hostile, his arms folded defensively across his chest, Manti approached his chief and the priest. "Luatu."
Looking up, Luatu gestured to his friend. "Come. Join us, Manti. I was just telling Father of the village news."
Aware of the native high priest's intense dislike and distrust, Father Pierre smiled. "Please, Manti."
Manti eyed the priest malevolently as he sat near Luatu. He had no use for this white man who had come to the island for the sole purpose of turning his followers away from their tribal worship. Listening in bitter silence, Manti was pleased to learn that the man had met with little success during his journeys.
"Have there been any births while I was gone?" Father Pierre asked as he accepted a cup of fresh, sweet coconut milk from a serving girl.
"There were two fine babies born, one boy and one girl," Luatu informed him. "But there was one death."
Papin was shocked by the news. "Who? One of the old men?"
"No. It was Konga, son of Autiki. He was killed in a shark attack."
"But he was a strong young man . . . how did it happen?"
"He was trying to save another who had fallen into the sea, and lost his own life in the struggle."
"And the other man?"
"He was saved."
The priest nodded. "I had heard, on Kikini, that two men had been recovered from the sea. Did they survive?"
"Yes. Jacques and Espri found one and nursed him back to health."
"Tommy O'Ryan is the other man. He is well, too."
"It is a credit to your Christian kindness that you cared enough to help them," Father said approvingly.
"It has always been our way," Manti sniped.
"Indeed, it has." Papin refused to be intimidated by the powerful native. "And you as a people are to be commended for it."
Manti sat back rigidly.
"The two white men are basically good men," Luatu continued, "although I am certain they are growing restless in their desire to return to their own homes. They have been here for nearly two months now."
"I have no news of any ships, but perhaps there will be one soon," Papin said encouragingly. "It is never good to be away from loved ones for too long." Then, remembering Konga, Father Pierre asked, "It is a noble thing Konga did. Was there a funeral?"
"No, there was no need; his body was lost," the chief explained. "But Manti did perform the ceremonial death ritual."
Trying not to offend the pagan priest, Father looked over at Manti and answered tactfully, "Then I am sure Konga has been well served, but I will also add my prayers to Manti's in order to insure his eternal salvation."
A flicker of emotion showed in Manti's eyes at the white man's proclamation, but he held his tongue, though his thoughts were vicious. So! The arrogant white priest thought his prayers were not powerful enough to save Konga, did he?
"Father Pierre!" Jacques's call rang out across the clearing, interrupting Manti's malicious musings.
"Jacques! Mon vieux ami!" Pierre lapsed into French for a moment as they hugged one another. "How have you been? And where is that beautiful daughter of yours?"
"Espri will be here later," Duchant explained. "You've just arrived?"
"Just a short time ago. Much has happened since I've been gone, and Luatu and Manti were just telling me the news of Konga's death."
Jacques sat with them. "It was a horrible thing."
The men then became involved in conversation, discussing all that had occurred since their parting.
Mitch and Tommy were working with Kohea when word of the missionary priest's return reached them. Mitch was anxious to speak with the priest, for he might have news of a ship in the area, so when Kohea urged them to quit work for the day and go to Luatu's to meet him, he was glad to do so.
Mitch was eager to leave the island. Though he had immersed himself in work, helping Kohea and the other men with any and every task, the six weeks since he'd last been with Espri had passed slowly, each hour seeming long and empty. Consciously, he denied feeling anything for Espri, yet he took great pains to avoid seeing her; and, though he had ample opportunity to indulge himself with the eager Malikan maidens, he felt no desire for any of them. So it was that he had marked time quietly, anticipating the day when he would finally be off the island and on his way home.
Tommy outwardly went along with Mitch's enthusiasm for a meeting with the priest, but he was far from eager to leave Malika. Even though he was aware of Tikiru's tapu status and the fact that she could never marry, his love for her had grown. Caught in the grip of their powerful feelings for one another, the pair had cast all thoughts of the danger of discovery aside. They continued to rendezvous whenever possible, cherishing each forbidden moment. Consequently Tommy hoped desperately that there was no news of a ship for he did not want to be forced to make a painful decision. To go would mean leaving his love behind; to stay might raise questions and ultimately put her in peril.
As they passed through the village they found that a pig had been slaughtered and set to roast in preparation for the welcoming feast that would be held tha
t night. Luatu saw them approaching and called out to them.
"Father Papin, this is Mitch Williams and Tommy O'Ryan." Jacques nodded toward each man as he said his name.
"Father," Mitch said.
Both men shook hands with the priest and then sat down.
"It is my understanding that you are two very blessed men."
"That's very true, Father," Tommy agreed. "And we've been made most welcome here."
Father Pierre smiled benignly. "I understand from Chief Luatu that you are anxious to be on your way home, and I regret that I have not brought you the good tidings that a ship is on its way. But the word is out on the other islands to send any vessel here."
"That's good to know, thank you." Mitch was not at all encouraged by the news.
"Here comes Espri now," Luatu announced, happy to see his granddaughter.
Espri was excited at the prospect of seeing Father Pierre, for his arrival seemed the answer to the fervid prayers she'd been saying over the past month. She loved the priest dearly and valued his counsel. Running toward him, she was swept up in his affectionate embrace, and it was a moment before she realized that Mitch was among those gathered around. She greeted him distantly.
"Espri," Mitch replied curtly.
His gaze was so cold as it raked over her that she was unnerved by it and quickly turned away. "Tommy, it's good to see you again."
"Hello, Espri," the younger man replied.
Although Mitch did not betray his feelings to the others, he was furious, and he cursed himself silently for the sudden surge of desire he'd felt when he'd first seen her. Damn! He'd stayed away from Espri all this time, yet his need for her was as powerful as it had ever been. He had thought that the attraction would lessen, but it hadn't. Try as he might, he could not deny the passion she aroused.
Espri was stricken. How could she have been so foolish to think that she could come to the village and not see Mitch! It had been only six weeks, but it seemed a lifetime. It took all of her self-control not to stare at him. She had thought her feeling for him was dead, killed the night she'd seen him with Tana, but she realized that was not so. She needed desperately to leave, to get away from his overwhelming presence.
Disguising her very real distress behind a façade of total absorption in what Father Pierre had to say, she tried to dwell purposefully on his every word. Yet time seemed to drag, and it was with great relief that she finally managed to excuse herself, telling the men that she had promised to help Laiti with preparations for the feast that night.
Mitch's eyes glowed with a fierce inner light as he watched her walk away, and he couldn't help but remember how perfect they'd been together.
The rest of the day had passed in a flurry of activity for Father Pierre. He had celebrated Mass for the natives, baptized the infants who had been born since his last visit, and met with several islanders who were professing an interest in his teachings. Now, as the moon rose over the darkness of the sea, the feasting began. Food and drink flowed freely, and everyone partook, save Manti, who stayed on the fringes of the festivities watching all the happenings with a jaundiced eye.
Mitch ate with Tommy and then disappeared into the shadows. From his vantage point just beyond the light of the big bonfire, he could watch Espri, unobserved. Driven by emotions that seemed out of control, he remained in the darkness, dwelling on her every laugh, every frown. Suddenly realizing what he was about, he became annoyed and stalked away into the night.
Although Espri sat in a place of honor near Father Pierre, she had had little opportunity to speak with the priest privately. He was surrounded by well-wishers. As the evening had passed in a continuous flow of greetings and loving exchanges, she had grown weary of the happy façade she was forced to maintain. She was not happy, and she doubted she would be for some time to come.
She had made every effort not to pay attention to Mitch, but his presence had seemed almost a tangible thing. Every time she'd looked up, he'd been there, his eyes resting on her with disturbing intensity. Then, just as disturbingly, he'd gone, leaving her to wonder where and with whom.
Father Pierre had known Espri since childhood, and he sensed a sadness about her that he'd never witnessed before. She had always been lighthearted and loving, and it bothered him that her gaiety was strained. It was during a lull, late in the evening, that he first had the chance to question her.
"Espri? Is something wrong?" His words, so accurate in their perception, caught her unaware for she had been trying her best not to allow her distress to show.
"Is it that obvious?" she returned, smiling with a certain grimness.
"Only to me, ma petite." He frowned. "Would you like to talk?"
"I do need your advice, but I don't want to take you from your feast. Perhaps you could come home with us tomorrow?"
"Of course, I had planned on spending time with you and your father, and that will give me the chance to do both."
Relief washed over her. Soon she would be able to unburden herself. Father Pierre was the wisest man she'd ever known; he would be able to tell her what to do.
"Why do you insist on taking these foolish chances?" Nelani raged at Tikiru, who was readying herself for another meeting with her lover.
"Manti is in the village. It will be safe," she answered easily.
"But it's foolhardy for you to continue this way. Don't you realize what could happen if you're found out?"
"And how will I be found out?" Tikiru turned on her servant. "Who would ever suspect?"
"You are taking a great risk."
"It is my risk," Tikiru told her haughtily as she started to leave. "And it is worth any price to be with Tommy."
Manti was disgusted. All night, he'd watched the islanders fawn over the white missionary. Such folly! Didn't they know that the gods of their ancestors were the only true gods and that their behavior was angering them? Unable to witness any more, he left, intent on returning to the temple and offering up a sacrifice of his own to appease the deities.
Hidden behind a bank of clouds, the moon offered little light at this late hour, and for that reason Tikiru was not clearly discernible on her way back to her hut. Slipping silently through the forest in her concealing wrap after her meeting with Tommy, she did not see Manti as he walked the path to the temple.
Manti, however, saw the cloaked figure of a woman, and noting the direction of her flight, he followed her, thinking something amiss. Forbidden to barge into the taupau's quarters, he called out her name in fierce inquiry.
"Tikiru!"
Having heard footsteps behind her, Tikiru had darted around to Nelani's sleeping room and had entered there, waking her slave and sending her out to meet with Manti.
"Where is Tikiru?" he demanded imperiously.
"She is sleeping, Manti." Nelani bowed humbly before her high priest.
"If she is sleeping, then who did I just see running through the forest?" he asked cagily.
"It was I, O Most High," she lied, to protect her mistress.
"Is there a problem, Manti?" Tikiru suddenly emerged from her own hut, looking very much as if she'd just been awakened from a sound sleep.
"Your servant has been leaving you unattended while you slept," Manti informed her.
"Nelani! Haven't I forbidden you to meet with that man?" she asked harshly.
"Yes, Tikiru."
"And you defied me?"
"Yes."
"I will leave you to handle this." The high priest turned to leave the glade, relieved that his concern had been unfounded.
Tikiru nodded and watched until he disappeared into the forest. Then she herded Nelani back inside, and they stared at each other, terribly aware of what had almost happened.
"You will take a note to Tommy in the morning." Tikiru began to shake as fear of discovery gripped her heart, for she knew the horrible punishment Manti would deal out, should he find that she'd defiled her vows. "I will not be able to meet with him again. It will be too dangerous . . . for both of
us."
"What?" Father Pierre looked at Espri in stunned surprise as they sat talking the following day.
Eyes downcast, she nodded. "I'm going to have a baby."
"Who's the father?" he demanded, standing up authoritatively in front of her.
"It doesn't matter, Father Pierre," she responded dejectedly.
"It most certainly does matter, Espri," he insisted, and then the dreaded thought struck him. "Was it Konga?" he asked sympathetically, touching her shoulder lightly to comfort her.
"No!" Espri looked up at him quickly.
"Then, who?"
Sighing, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hide the truth much longer, she confessed. "The father of my child is Mitch Williams."
"The white man I met yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Have you told him?"
"No!" She was stricken at the thought.
"Then you must. He has a right to know if it is his child you are to bear," he explained logically.
"I can't tell him. He doesn't love me, Father. What happened between us . . . well, it was a mistake."
"You're calling your unborn child 'a mistake'?" He was outraged. "Surely, you loved this man if you gave yourself to him. I know you that well, Espri."
"I did love him."
"Did?" His searching gaze rested on her pale, tense features.
"I don't know anymore. It seemed so right at the time . . ." Tears fell unheeded as she finally gave in to the desperation that had been haunting her since she'd first realized her condition.
"It is his duty to care for you and the child, Espri," Father Pierre pronounced authoritatively. "I will handle this from here on."
"But I don't want to marry him if he doesn't want me!" she protested, in anguish.
"He wanted you enough to make love to you, Espri. Besides, it's too late to worry about that. You are having his child." He patted her hand reassuringly. "I will speak with your father, and we will see what can be arranged."
Espri groaned. How had this ever happened to her?
"Will you trust me to do what's best for you?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"Good. Why don't you stay here while I go talk to Jacques?" Father Pierre suggested, then started off to plan her future.
