Her Name Will Be Faith (23 page)

"No problem, ma'am. You have a nice day."

Obviously, if anyone around Whaletown had heard there
was a potential hurricane a few hundred miles south of them they weren't
worrying
about it – but then, she
remembered that in those sun kissed islands
nobody ever really worried
about anything… until it happened. And
obviously
she couldn't hope to hear from Big Mike before tomorrow. And
what was
she going to say to him when he did call? Even if she told him she had changed
her mind about coming down – as she had, not so much for herself but for
Owen Michael: Dr Matthey would hardly approve of
exposing the boy to the tensions and possible risks of a hurricane
– he
was very unlikely to pack up and come home just because there
was a storm in the vicinity; he would remind her of how they had survived the
last Tropical Storm to hit Eleuthera – just
a doddle. Nor was there any
way he could send Tamsin back alone. She was
almost tempted to farm Owen Michael out and rush down and pick the little girl
up… but she couldn't leave him at this stage, not even with Marcia. Her anger
with Michael grew. If ever a family needed two parents it was now.

Marcia! There was an idea. She
could drive down to Greenwich Village
for a cup of coffee and hear what they thought about it.
She just had to
talk
to someone, and Richard was at the studio. Besides, Richard was too
close to the subject, took it all perhaps a shade too
seriously. Marcia's approach to life was essentially practical.

She told Owen Michael she was going out for half an
hour, installed him in front of the television set, and discovered both Marcia
and Benny
in overalls, surrounded by paint
and wallpaper, hanging on to step ladders
as they painted the ceiling in the first-floor lounge. "Hey,
Jo," Marcia called as she entered the room. "Have you heard there's a
storm could
be gonna hit the Bahamas?"

"Yes," Jo said.

"I'll bet you wish you were there to see the
fun," Benny said.

"Fun?" Jo asked. "I'm worried sick.
Tamsin is there."

Marcia slid down her ladder to give her a hug,
managing to transfer some wet paint from the back of her hand to Jo's blouse as
she did so.
"Now, Jo, you know she'll
be all right. Dad and Lawson and Dale are
there, and Babs and Belle..."

"That's what I keep telling myself," Jo
agreed.

"So there is absolutely
nothing for you to worry about, believe me."

"I know you're right," Jo said miserably.

Marcia felt a surge of sympathy.
"Come on, old girl, let's put on some
coffee.
When's Michael coming home?"

"I have no idea," Jo
said. She didn't want to get involved in chatting
about Michael with any member of
his family, at least, not until her own
decision
was irrevocable – as if it wasn't already.

Marcia, who had been kept
informed of the situation by her mother,
decided against pressing the subject. "Well,
I've
got some news for you, anyway." She glanced at Benny and winked,
before leading Jo down the
creaky old
stairs to their new kitchen.

Jo tried to put her worries and
resentments out of mind and look
interested.
"Tell, then. What is it?"

"Well..." Marcia
grinned as she filled the machine. "It looks like
we'll need to advance the date of our wedding."

"You're not . .?"

"We are. At least I am – pregnant."

"Oh, terrific! Accidental, or
deliberate?" Jo was truly excited for them
both.

"Bit of both, I guess. We'd
decided to start a family just as soon as we
were married, and just stopped bothering… never
imagined it could
happen so
quickly."

"Have you told Babs?"

"No. It's such a hassle,
trying to get in touch with them down there.
And it's not something you can say over the phone.
I'll tell her when she
comes home; it's
only another fortnight."

"How do you think she'll
take it?" Jo herself had no idea. Illegitimate
babies might not be the
catastrophe they had once been considered, but
Babs and Mike were practicing Catholics, even if
Marcia wasn't, most of
the time. How did
one confess something like an illegitimate pregnancy?

"Well," Marcia said,
practically, "Benny and I are getting married.
We'll just have to bring it forward, I guess."

"Um." Jo felt her
sister-in-law was refusing to consider that her parents might be upset. She
gulped her coffee. "Well, I have to get back to Owen
Michael."

"How is he, anyway?"

"Thriving. Except that I
haven't told him yet we're not going down to
Eleuthera tomorrow."

"You're not? You don't mean
you're staying here because of that
storm?" Marcia gave a shriek of laughter. "Oh,
Jo, you really are a worry
wart."

"Well, I don't think Owen
Michael should be exposed to any excitement
right
now," Jo said stiffly, and then relented. "Look, why don't you and
Benny come over for supper tomorrow night. Save you
cooking." She
knew Richard was working that evening.

"Hey, Mom," Owen Michael
shouted as she entered the apartment.
"There's a hurricane making for Puerto Rico. It's
just come through on
the news. Did you
know that?"

"I heard something about
it," Jo lied. "But it's not a hurricane, darling,
just a tropical storm. They've called it Faith."

"It's a hurricane," Owen
Michael insisted. "They just said so. It has
winds of eighty miles an hour at the center."

"Oh, my God!" Jo muttered.

"Say, Mom, do you think it could hit the
Bahamas?"

"Of course it won't hit the
Bahamas. Puerto Rico is hundreds of miles
away."

"Ah, shit! I was hoping we could get down there
in time."

"I do wish you wouldn't use
that word," Jo remarked. "And Owen
Michael… we are not going to Dolphin Point tomorrow."

"Not going?" He turned away from the screen
in dismay.

"Dr Matthey has changed his
mind." Jo was becoming a most efficient
liar; on the other hand, she had no doubt at all Dr
Matthey would
agree
with her. "He thinks you should stay here for at least another
week."

"Aw, Mom..."

Jo went into the study and closed
the door. Eighty miles an hour was
at the very bottom end of the hurricane scale, but the
storm hadn't even
reached Puerto Rico
yet. She dialed Richard's office number.

"Hi," he said. "Did you get through to
your folks?"

"It's an Out Island,
remember?" she told him. "I left a message for them to call me, but I
don't expect to hear before tomorrow morning.
Richard, is it really true that Faith is now a hurricane?"

"It's true," he said.
"And quite honestly, I don't like the look of her
one little bit."

"You mean she could build?"

"I mean she is doing just that."

"But you still don't know if she'll hit
Eleuthera."

"I can't have any idea about
that until she hits Puerto Rico, which is
expected in another twelve hours. Normally we can form
some idea of
what
will happen then by reading the water temperatures, she'll look for
the warmest. Trouble is, this year
the waters in the Bahamas are just as
warm as in the Caribbean. In fact there are temperatures
of over 26°
Centigrade
all the way up to Canada; big sharks have been reported
north of Cape Cod, and they only
go up there when their food fish move
north, and those smaller fish move with the plankton
which drifts up
there with the warm
water. Added to that the way the jet stream has
gone right up north… Faith has the whole north-west Atlantic to play
in."

"Jesus," she said. "Richard, I really
am worried."

"Well, take it easy," he recommended.
"When I said she's building, there's still no indication of her getting
above a Category Two Storm."

"How big is that?"

"Well, say something over 100 mph winds."

"100 mph? Oh, my God!
Richard, wouldn't I be justified in asking
them
to come home?"

"Sure, you would. No one sits out a hurricane who
doesn't have to. As to whether they'll still get a flight… you'll have to make
them hurry. How's Owen Michael?"

"He's fine," she said absently.

"Would you rather I didn't come round
tonight?"

She hesitated. She wanted him so badly. But she didn't
want Owen Michael involved – not yet; he was still unaware of Richard's
visit on
Saturday morning. "No,"
she said. "I want you to come. But make it
later, after Owen
Michael's in bed. He's still pretty weak and easily tired; I'll have him tucked
up by half past eight. Is nine okay?"

"Sure. I understand. But I
may not be able to stay very long. I'll have to get back here by midnight for a
late update; the big white chief likes
his
number one weatherman on duty when the weather happens to be making news."

"How's the old bastard taking it?"

"With a pinch of salt. Expects it to fizzle, like
all the others so far this
year.”

"I wish he was in Puerto Rico," Jo said.
"Maybe you should send him there to see for himself. Anyway, I don't mind
if you can only come for an hour. As long as you don't feel I'm wasting your
time." It would be disappointing to see him for so short a time, but it
would be better than
nothing.

"Oh, we men are called upon
to make these sacrifices from time to
time,"
he teased.

Jo giggled. "The sacrificial altar will be ready
at nine."

"I'll be there," he promised, laughing.

Owen Michael was sound asleep when Richard turned up.

"Have you eaten?" Jo asked, after they'd
kissed.

"No, but don't go to any trouble."

"I haven't had anything, either.
Go park yourself in the family room.
I've
got something ready on a tray."

They drank soup from mugs and tore meat off grilled
chicken pieces with their teeth, saying little and obviously with much on their
minds. "Do you want to know what I think you should do when Donnelly gets
back, and you return from Eleuthera, supposing you ever get there?"
Richard broke the silence, eventually, wiping grease off his fingers with a
paper napkin.

"Tell me."

"You move out of here, into
your place in Connecticut, with the
children,
and have him served with a petition immediately. You have a
pretty good case for mental cruelty and your best
chance of getting
custody of the kids is to leave me right out of the
picture, so he can't counter-claim on adultery."

"Yes, I guess you're right," she agreed, and
reloaded the tray. "There's no point in delaying, if I'm not going to get
down to Dolphin Point." She noticed his eyes kept straying to the clock.
"You don't have to go for an hour yet, do you?"

"No. But I have to be there
in
an hour.
May I come back afterwards?"

"Please," she smiled,
and then frowned. "You're uptight. Is it Faith?"

"I guess so." He sighed.

"I didn't ask if there was any more news of her.
I imagine you'd have told me if there was."

"Sweetheart, I don't want to worry you with
unnecessary details, when
we don't yet have
any idea where she's heading or how big she's going
to be. You've seen
enough hurricane tracks charted by now to know that from her present position
she could go anywhere."

"Yes, yes, I know that, but there's something on
your mind. Come on,
let's have it. What are
you holding back?" She wanted to know the worst.

"Well… the first reports are
starting to come in from Puerto Rico.
The
hurricane winds were beginning to hit San Juan just before I left the
studio, and the torrential rain was already, said
to be causing landslips
and
widespread damage. The system is still moving very slowly, too, just
on
ten knots, which gives it so much more potential."

"That isn't what you're not telling me," Jo
insisted.

He gave another sigh. "Mark
called in just before I left. He'd just
returned from the area. He says there has been a
significant change in
the track, from
just north of west, to northwest. That's good for Puerto Rico, of course;
they'll remain in the less dangerous semi-circle, down there."