The Australian (5 page)

She went back to her suitcase and stared at it, denying her eyes the tears they wanted to shed. Well, she didn’t need John’s crumbs, thank you, she told herself. She’d go away and forget him. She’d forget him completely.

Sure, she would. She sat down on the bed and wailed. The coverlet still smelled of the spicy cologne he wore. Her lips touched it with aching passion, and it was a long time before she could force herself to get up and finish packing.

Hours later she said good-bye to her parents in Brisbane and climbed aboard a plane bound for the Hawaiian Islands. Despite the fact that she had promised herself she wouldn’t, her helpless eyes scanned the airport terminal for a glimpse of John. But he wasn’t there. Why should he be? He’d said his good-byes. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Four

Priss settled in at the University of Hawaii in Honolulu, on the island of Oahu, and found the diversity of cultures and races as fascinating as she’d found Australia. She lived off campus, with Aunt Margaret, and found her young-minded aunt a lively and delightful companion. When Priss wasn’t attending classes, her aunt toured her around the island. Priss found breathtaking beauty in the beaches and mountains and volcanos and flowers, and day by day the hurt of leaving behind her family and the man she loved began to ease.

One of her biggest consolations was the new friend she’d found in Ronald George, a tall dark-haired Englishman with blue eyes who was studying for a degree in education, too.

Her introduction to him had come the first day of classes, when he’d sidled up to her in the auditorium and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I say,” he asked conspiratorially, “would you be interested in having a blazing affair with me during algebra? It is a bit crowded in here right now, but I do see a place just behind the curtains in the auditorium...”

She’d looked up at him dumbfounded. “What?”

“Just a short affair,” he continued. “Until second period class? All right, then, you’ve talked me into marriage. But you’ll have to wait until I have an hour to spare. Say, around lunchtime?” He grinned. “I’m Ronald George, by the way. You’d have seen the name on our marriage certificate, but I thought you might like to know beforehand.”

“You’re incredible!” she burst out. She stared up at him while she decided between running for help or laughing aloud.

“Yes, and just think, you haven’t even seen me in action yet!” He leered at her playfully. “How about it? Or we could become engaged now. The thing is, old girl, I don’t have a ring on me....”

She decided in favor of laughter. “Oh, stop, I’ll hurt myself,” she gasped after laughing until her stomach ached.

He brushed back a lock of his wavy dark hair. “I knew we’d hit it off. You’re just my type. A girl.”

She held out her hand. “I’m Priscilla Johnson, from Queensland, Australia.”

“What an odd accent you have, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he commented. “Sort of southern Australian?”

“I’m from Alabama originally,” she confessed. “My father teaches in Providence. That’s a small town northwest of Brisbane, near several large stations.”

“Ah, yes. Australia.” He studied her with a warm smile. “I’d like to teach there myself, when I take my degree. Especially if that’s where
you’re
going to teach.”

“It is.” She smiled back. “Been here long?”

“Two whole nights,” he said. “I miss the rain and the fog and the cold back home,” he sighed.

“I left spring in Australia.”

“I say, we’ll probably both die in this island paradise,” he predicted.

“I know a girl who’s studying to be a doctor,” she told him. “She’ll save us once she gets through premed. You can’t possibly catch pneumonia until then.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I shall put on a mustard plaster tonight. And perhaps a couple of hot dogs to keep it company.”

The bell rang just as she was warming to him, but in the weeks and months that followed, they became fast friends. Both of them knew it wasn’t going to be any mad romance, but they found they genuinely liked each other. And Priss needed a friend desperately. The longer she was away from John Sterling, the more she missed him. It became an actual pain to lie down at night and think about him.

By the time six months had passed and Easter rolled around, she’d had all too much time to think about how she’d hounded John for the last two years. It hadn’t helped that Renée had written that John was riding around with Janie Weeks, a notorious divorcée in the district. It was probably nothing, Renée had written, but people were talking about it. Still, Priss was certain John was carrying on an affair and it hurt in an intolerable way.

She cried for hours after that, and her usually bright face was full of bitter hurt as she went to her sociology class just before school let out for Easter vacation.

“What’s wrong, Priss?” Ronald asked her, his fond eyes concerned. “I say, you aren’t breaking your heart over me, I hope?” He grinned. “Dying of unbridled passion...?”

“Well, maybe,” she teased. Then her face became serious. “I don’t want to go home at Easter,” she lied.

“Good!” he chuckled. “Stay here and I’ll take you to a luau at my roommate’s parents’ home.”

“That sounds like fun,” she said. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve talked about you so much, Danny’s dying to meet you.”

Her eyes searched his. “Well...”

“Come on,” he chided. “I’m not trying to talk you into anything. Just friends, as we agreed.”

She relaxed. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Great!” he exclaimed. “I’ll tell Danny you’re coming. This is going to be a gala affair, old girl; they’re even roasting a suckling pig I hear.” He leaned down. “Not to worry, the pig had absolutely nothing left to live for—he’d only just been jilted by his girlfriend.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re good for me!”

“What did I tell you in the beginning?” he asked with a smug smile.

She relaxed a little then, because she had a concrete reason to stay in Hawaii. She didn’t want to have to tell her parents the truth: that she was dying because John didn’t care enough to write to her. That she couldn’t bear to see him with another woman.

That night she called Renée and Adam from Margaret’s house.

“Not coming home?” Renée gasped. “But, darling, we’ve made plans...”

“I’m sorry,” she said, pretending cheerfulness, “but you remember I told you about Ronald George? Well, he’s invited me to this big luau at his friend’s home a couple of days from now, and he’s such a nice guy...well, I said yes before I thought.” She crossed her fingers against the lie.

“He’s the British boy,” Renée recalled. She sighed. “Priss, we’ve invited some people over tomorrow night, kind of a homecoming party for you. John was coming.”

She closed her eyes on a wave of loneliness and love. “With his new lady, no doubt?” she grated.

There was a pause. “You don’t understand,” Renée began. “I need to explain—”

“Yes, I understand very well,” Priscilla interrupted, sounding mature and sophisticated. “I had a wild crush on John, but being over here has cured me. I want someone younger, like Ronald, who can enjoy the things I do. I’m having such a good time, Mom. You don’t really mind if I skip this one holiday, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Renée said, “if it’s what you really want.”

“It is,” Priscilla said firmly. “Is Dad there?”

“He’s working late tonight, but I’ll have him call you when he comes in if you like.”

“No, don’t. I’ll call back in a day or so. Mom...?” She wanted to ask about John—if he was healthy and if he might marry that new woman—but she didn’t dare, not after the fabrications she’d just put forth. “I love you,” she said instead.

“I love you, too, darling,” Renée said. “Priss, about John...”

“That part of my life is over, and I’m sure he’s glad,” Priscilla said quietly. “It must be lovely for him, not being chased by me.”

“He looks rather lonely, if you want to know,” came the soft reply. “He asks about you all the time. He said you were supposed to write to him.”

She felt hot and cold all at once. “He...didn’t really want me to, you know. It was just that he felt sorry for me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Mom, you and Dad have to meet Ronald,” she said enthusiastically. “He comes from a very upper-crust British family. He’s wildly intelligent and full of fun, and he’s going to come back to Providence with me when we graduate to teach! Isn’t that great? He’s super. You and Dad will like him a lot.”

Renée sighed heavily. “Yes, dear, I’m sure we will. You must bring him home with you sometime.”

After that the conversation became general, and John wasn’t mentioned again. But when Renée said good-bye and hung up, memories of him ran around and around in Priscilla’s head until she wanted to scream. He’d made all those comments about waiting for her and putting his mark on her, but he hadn’t meant them. Her mother was a hopeless romantic, and she loved John. It was no wonder she was still playing matchmaker. But Priss was through mooning over John Sterling. She was going to survive, one way or another, and close him out of her life and her heart. She was going to get over him.

* * *

The luau was wonderful, very Polynesian and exciting. Ronald’s roommate, Danny, was Hawaiian, an intelligent young man with liquid brown eyes and a quick wit. Priss liked him immediately. And Danny’s parents were as open and friendly as he was. Besides, several of the kids from college were there. Priss enjoyed herself. Yet part of her was still mourning John, as she had been since leaving Australia.

“Priss, you’ve been brooding for days,” Ronald remarked as they strolled along the beach together. He glanced down at her in the late evening breeze, studying her drawn face. “It’s a man, isn’t it?”

She glanced at him and sighed. “Yes.” She’d never told him about John. She couldn’t talk to anyone about John, not even Aunt Margaret.

“Bad experience?”

“Nothing like that,” she laughed softly. “I was madly infatuated and chased him, that’s all. I’m still a little embarrassed about it.”

“How did he feel?”

“Sorry for me.”

“Oh.” He reached out and caught her hand. “I had the same thing happen, actually,” he confided. “She doesn’t know I’m alive.”

“Have you considered putting a notice in the paper?” she asked, tongue in cheek.

He burst out laughing. “I don’t think it would work. She doesn’t read the paper.” He wrinkled his eyebrows. “Confidentially, old girl, I’m not sure she can read. But, my, what a figure!”

“Poor old thing.”

“I’ll survive,” he replied. He sighed, watching the whitecaps pound against the white sand. “People always love the wrong people.”

“Yes, I know.” She squeezed his hand. “But it’s nice to have friends to console you.”

He smiled. “Still sure you don’t want to have a blazing affair with me?”

“Sorry. I’m just not one for blazing affairs. But I need all the friends I can get.”

“Actually,” he reflected, winking down at her, “I was going to say the same thing. It’s nice having a female to talk to about other females. I wouldn’t dare rock the boat!”

“You’re a nice bloke,” she said. “Does that sound Australian?” she added, all eyes. “I’m practicing.”

“I say, jolly good!” he grinned. He frowned. “Does that sound British? I have to keep in practice, too, you know.”

She laughed and tossed her hair in the breeze. The whole world smelled of salt sea air and tropical flowers, and she held on to his hand as they walked. It was lovely having him for a friend. If only she could forget about John and put him completely out of her mind. The thought of Janie Weeks wrapping her thin arms around the big Australian made Priss ill. What in the world did John see in that horrible man-eater? Priss’s face fell. Probably someone as experienced as himself. He’d made a lot of remarks about Priss’s age.

She stared at the gorgeous sunset with misty eyes. “Paradise,” she said softly. “As much as I love it, sometimes I’d trade it all for a Queensland drought. Except for the rainy season in summer, we go dry most of the year.”

“You mentioned it had been a dry summer back home,” Ronald recalled.

“Yes, a lot of the station owners had setbacks. My parents told me John Sterling lost a lot of sheep and cattle. But I don’t suppose it would bother him, with the numbers of animals he has.”

“He’d be the man, I presume?” Ronald asked softly.

“Yes.” She tossed back her hair. “The Sterling Run is enormous. But it was never the property that interested me. It was the man.”

“Ever thought of telling him how you feel?”

She laughed shortly. “He knows how I feel. He’s always known. He just doesn’t care. He said he wasn’t much good at writing letters, that he’d have his mother do it for him.” She sighed bitterly. “Besides, he’s been seen around the district with the local wild woman.”

“So that’s how it is.”

“That’s how it is.” She tried to blot out the memory of that last day at home, but, as always, it haunted her.

“Poor kid,” he comforted, and tightened his fingers.

“I’ll get over him,” she said. “All I need is a little time.”

But as she lay in bed that night back at Aunt Margaret’s house, she wondered if she was ever going to forget him. None of the boys at college, even Ronald, did a thing for her in any physical or emotional way. She was a one-man woman, and John was the one man. All the bravado in the world wasn’t going to change that.

She tossed and turned, hearing over and over again her mother’s voice telling her how lonely John seemed. Well, if he was lonely, why wouldn’t he write?

Somewhere in the distance a phone rang, and minutes later Aunt Margaret’s soft voice sounded outside the bedroom door. She opened it a crack and peeked in, all soft curling salt and pepper hair and brown eyes. She was like a feminine version of Adam Johnson, the only one of his two sisters who favored him.

“It’s for you, darling,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Feel like talking to a man with a sexy voice?”

“I might as well,” Priss said with a reluctant grin, “I’m not sleeping very well. Is it Ronald?”

“No,” Margaret said. “Go ahead. Pick it up. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

Puzzled, Priss lifted the receiver. “Hello?”

“You can’t pick up a bloody pen and write me two lines?” John Sterling demanded.

Her heart went wild. “John!” she burst out, all her good resolutions forgotten, her pride in ashes immediately at just the sound of his voice. She twisted the cord in her nervous fingers. “Oh, John, I miss you so much!”

There was a brief pause while she tried to regain her lost composure.

Damn, I’ve done it again, she thought furiously. She composed herself. “I miss everyone at home,” she amended. “But it’s great here, John, lots of sunshine and things to do, and places to see—”

“Stop rambling. Are you still dressed?”

She forced humor into her voice. “Why? Are you getting kinky? Want me to describe my night attire?”