Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady) (20 page)

“Will he tie up to us?” She was careful not to look at him as she stepped in.

“Probably not – there’s another mooring.”

She edged away from him. Was she afraid he would start to make love to her again? Only moments ago she’d shared his need, but now she’d had time to think, to withdraw, run away to safety.

Move carefully, he warned himself. Casually, he asked, “Can I look at your film this evening? I’d like to see what you’ve done.” He slid the dinghy into the water, waving to acknowledge a greeting from the captain of the fishing boat.

Jenny was silent until they were aboard
Lady Harriet
. Then, as she watched Jake hooking up wires to the portable recorder he had brought, she spoke suddenly.

“Jake, I called Marty about this film. He’s interested in buying it.”

He plugged in the last wire, switched on the recorder and said evenly, “Naturally, he’d be interested. He’s been trying to hire you ever since we won the award. Where’s your camera, Jenny?”

She walked into her cabin and pulled out the camera case, brought it back and thumped it down in front of him.

He said sharply, “Careful! That’s a delicate instrument!”

Her voice was tense, her face expressionless as she demanded, “Don’t you care if I sell it to Marty?“

“
Of course I care!
” He realized he was shouting, forced his voice quiet. “I’d like to throw something, start shouting – but what the hell am I supposed to do about it? I’m trying to be restrained—“

“Oh, Jake!” She couldn’t help laughing. He was glowering at her, fury and frustration flowing from him in waves. “What am I going to do with you? Restrained? You? You start swearing every time you get upset!”

“I am trying,” he said grimly. “Here, give me the first video. Do you have notes? Are you going to give me a rundown, or should I just look?”

“Just look.”

“Is there any coffee? I’d like a cup while I watch this.”

“The coffee pot—“

“Sorry, I forgot. No, J— Jenny.” Damn! He had to remember not to call her Jennifer! “Don’t start cleaning it now. Throw it overboard. We’ll get George a new one as a getting-out-of-hospital present.”

She watched him as the film started. She saw when he stopped being aware of her and became absorbed in the details of the moving pictures she had taken. Once, he frowned.

“It’s not edited yet, Jake. You shouldn’t really see it until I—”

“Shh! Quiet and let me look at it.” She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again. He wouldn’t listen until he was done watching.

“It’s going to be good,” he told her when the last of the video had played. “Very good.”

“I hoped it would,” she breathed, her eyes glowing with pleasure.

Sounds of music drifted in on the night air.

“Good taste in music,” Jake commented. “Shall we go listen?”

Outside, they sat on the side deck, leaning against the coach cabin as they drank their tea and listened to the music across the water. The sun was setting, sending red streaks across the water. The ancient trees on shore had transformed themselves into black silhouettes – the whole world a painting in black and red from the sunset.

“Did you really talk to Marty?” Jake asked. The music stopped briefly, then strains of the
Blue Danube
came to them on the night air.

She drew her legs up, slipped her arms around them. “I phoned him, but— I thought about selling it to him, but I wouldn’t really do that, Jake. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I could market it for you,” he offered, adding swiftly, “No, don’t misunderstand me, Jenny. You keep copyright. I’ll just act as your agent.”

“Why? What would you get out of that?“

She was eyeing him uneasily, but he said frankly, “I’d like you to work with me on this Queen Charlotte film.”

If she said yes, she’d be on location, working side by side with Jake. She wanted badly to say yes, but she evaded, “You’re going to do it?”

“If you’ll help. I can’t do it alone. I honestly don’t have the perspective. I love this place, but you know what would happen if I tried to put together a film on it.”

She nodded. “You’re too close to it. You wouldn’t be able to weed out the—”

“Drivel?” he suggested wryly.

She giggled. “You’re an artist. Artists don’t produce drivel.”

“Not even about hamburgers?”

“Well, that, maybe,” she agreed with a grin. “How is that last Madison film going?”

“Hans is doing it. At least – he’d better be doing it. If not, he’s getting his walking papers. Right now we could spend some time—”

“Making notes?” she suggested, reading his mind. “Doing research?” She shouldn’t. She knew it was better to make a clean break, but she found herself getting excited against her will.

“Set up a story board?” he suggested. “You’d have to direct this one, Jenny.”

“Co-direct,” she amended. Could she get hold of a story board pad in Queen Charlotte? Not likely. Jake would have to send for one from Vancouver. Jake was watching, assessing her reaction. She challenged him, “You know very well we’ll be thrashing out every scene. You couldn’t keep your fingers off it.”

“It worked well on the Swiftsure film, didn’t it?” he asked softly, making Jenny feel breathless, as if they were talking about more than films.

“Yes, it did,” she agreed slowly. “It was a great film.”

The pink had faded to darkness. A long-necked crane flew along the shoreline, a black silhouette against the sky.

“Will you do it, Jenny?”

She turned to look at him, trying to penetrate the darkness. She demanded softly, “What are you asking of me, Jake?”

“Just this film.” His voice was impersonal and low in the darkness. “Have your trip with George. We’ll get together here and there along the way, work out the details. Then next spring you can fly back from the Caribbean – or wherever – and we can come up here for the filming.”

He must have sensed her silent weakening. He said, “I’ll take you around when we get back to Queen Charlotte. I’ll show you the village. We’ll get Luke to fly us to some of the old villages.”

“You’ve got to be in Keremeos in three days,” she reminded him. “What’s happening to the museum pamphlet? And that Heysworth film that was developing? Don’t you have to get back to Vancouver?”

He ticked off each item on his fingers, a smile in his voice. “The pamphlet is done, at the printers now. Charlotte is keeping track of it, and she’ll call Violet with a message for me if there’s any problem. The Heysworth contract is signed, but I got the dates put off. You and I have time to do some sightseeing – two days’ worth before I have to catch the plane and get to work on Chris’s mountain climbing. We’ll take cameras, get some film – just to get a feel for it.” He was standing up, as if everything was settled.

She said nervously, “You’re trying to pressure me.”

“If I don’t, you’ll disappear on me.”

“Yes,” she whispered, admitting it, knowing it would be better if she did, if he didn’t keep coming after her, making her realize how much she would miss him.

“I can’t let you do that, Jenny.”

When he talked in that voice, there was no point arguing with him. He would have his way.

“All right,” she said slowly. “We’ll go. We’ll look. But I’m not promising anything. It doesn’t mean I’ll say yes, Jake.”

He nodded, satisfied for the moment. “All right. Right now you’d better show me around this vessel, then we’ll get some sleep. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

She didn’t expect to sleep well. She could hear Jake’s sounds through the thin wall of her stateroom, the sound of his clothes sliding off his body, the covers being pulled back as he climbed into bed. She breathed softly, quietly, and she could hear Jake breathing nearby.

She closed her eyes and listened. If she spoke, he would hear her. She knew from his breathing that he was not asleep yet. She listened, waiting for his breathing to deepen.

If she got up, walked into the cabin where he slept, he would take her in his arms and make love to her. She closed her eyes, wanting his touch, her body coming alive from the memory of his hands and his lips making love to her.

The door to his cabin was open. She would have heard if he had closed it. Was he asleep yet? What would he do if she came to him?

She’d be standing in the corridor, looking in, trembling, afraid he wouldn’t want her after all. Then, if he did, if he took her hand and drew her into his arms, she’d have the morning to face.

She slept poorly, waking several times, each time fighting the battle with herself, wanting to go to Jake, yet afraid.

She was up with the sun, washing and getting breakfast ready, managing to look as if she’d slept well instead of spending the night in frustrated longing.

It was natural enough, she supposed. She hadn’t had a lover since Lance. She was a normal woman, having her woman’s needs stirred for the first time in years.

She shook her head, admitting to herself that it was more than that. It wasn’t just sex she wanted. It was Jake.

Jake was casual and businesslike as he ate breakfast, then got them underway. Jenny followed his instructions as he steered
Lady Harriet
through the channel. She held the chart, spotted markers, confirmed his estimates of their progress with detailed examinations of the chart while he fought the wild currents. Twice, they passed empty hulks of wrecked ships on the shore. Then they were through, approaching Queen Charlotte.

The floats were full, so Jake brought
Lady Harriet
in to raft against a fishing boat. The skipper helped with the lines, staring at Jake and finally asking, “You’re Mary Hall’s boy, aren’t you?”

Boy? Jenny smiled, watching Jake and the fisherman deep in conversation as they tied the lines. Then, when the lines were tied to their satisfaction and the fishing talk was over, Jake led her off towards the town.

“Violet made me promise to bring you do dinner. Do you want to visit George first to reassure her about the boat?”

“Yes, please, but I’m not dressed for dinner! I don’t have any clothes with me for that sort of thing!”

“This is Queen Charlotte, not high society Vancouver. Violet’s not going to care what you’re wearing – she’s a blue jeans lady herself, so you’ll feel right at home.”

Jake’s aunt was astonishingly beautiful, her long black hair framing a face that was proud and dramatically angular.

“Jenny, come in. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You certainly look better than you did when I saw you at the hospital.”

“You saw me at the hospital?”

“You were sleeping – sleeping off the clams, I guess.”

Violet and her husband Nat lived in a home that was set up on the hillside with a view of the harbor. Their living room was gently littered with the signs of their wide interests – magazines ranging from
Time
and
Newsweek
to a West Coast fishing magazine. A latch-hooking project was spread out near a comfortable chair.

“Your design?” asked Jake, walking over to the partly finished rug which bore the outline of a large, black raven.

“Yes,” Violet agreed. “I wanted to use it for the hallway, but Nat says it’s sacrilege for us to walk on the sacred raven.” She laughed, drawing a smile from Jake. “And how would he know? He’s the white man.”