Bride in Barbados (22 page)

"It's all right," she assured him. "In fact, if you
gentlemen will excuse me, I'll be back in a few minutes." She retired
to the ladies' room.

When she returned to the table, Curt was finishing a club
sandwich as Jonathan talked earnestly. Looking up, Jonathan smiled.
"Ah, here she is. Curt wants me to look at a piece of land that's for
sale about five miles from here. I thought you might enjoy driving out
there with us."

She thought of spending the long afternoon alone at the
plantation and agreed. Curt, in the front seat with Jonathan's driver,
half-turned so that he and Jonathan could continue their conversation.
It seemed that Curt thought the piece of land would be a good site for
some small tourist cabins and wanted Jonathan's opinion. "I've done
some research," Curt was saying, "and learned that the number of
tourists visiting the island has increased markedly in the last five
years. The greatest need in accommodations is in the moderate price
range—places where families with children can afford to stay
for a week, perhaps cooking some of their own meals. An adequate
kitchenette could be installed in each cabin using very little space."

As Curt continued to outline his ideas for eight or ten
cabins, Susan laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes,
enjoying the air conditioning and the smooth movement of the Rolls.

A few minutes later, Curt was saying, "Stop here. It's
about a quarter-mile down this lane. There's a good sea view."

The car halted and Susan lifted her head as Jonathan
opened the door. "You'll probably enjoy stretching your legs, Susan."
He helped her from the car and the three of them walked up a small
incline as Curt pointed out the boundaries of the land that was for
sale.

"I think we could save most of the trees. It would make
the cabins seem more private, even though there would be only a few
yards separating them. You can do a lot with shrubbery,
too—and over there would be a good location for a swimming
pool."

The path along which they were walking was rocky and Susan
placed her feet carefully. Her balance wasn't as sure as it had been.
She halted atop the little knoll to look across a narrow strip of weedy
grass and down to where foamy white waves crashed against the rocky
coast. Jonathan and Curt were behind her, deep in conversation about
the cabins. From the corner of her eye, she saw Curt's arm gesturing
widely to emphasize a point, and then there was the scrambling sound of
shoes trying to gain a purchase on the loose rocks.

A weight hit Susan from behind and she was sliding, then
falling down the incline. In a sheer reflex action, her hands grabbed
onto clumps of weeds.

It all happened so quickly that she hadn't time to be
afraid until she lay, unmoving, on her side, clutching at the weeds
that had saved her from tumbling all the way to the edge of the cliff
and over onto the rocks below.

Then she began to shake uncontrollably. She was aware of
Jonathan and Curt scrambling down the incline to where she lay.

"Susan!" It was Jonathan's voice. "Oh, my God! Are you
hurt?"

She couldn't speak immediately. The men knelt beside her
and Jonathan's voice rose angrily, "You clumsy oaf!"

From behind them, on the path, there was the sound of a
vehicle approaching very fast. Curt began to speak in a whining tone.
"I lost my footing. Susan, I'm so terribly sorry. Please, forgive me.
Here, can you get up? Let me help you."

Her thundering heart began to slow down and she sat up
gingerly. "I'm all right—I think."

The approaching vehicle wasn't the Rolls, which they had
left at the road, for it sounded too loud for Jonathan's car. The
vehicle came to a skidding halt and there was a creak as a door was
opened, then slammed shut. Jonathan and Curt were helping her to her
feet.

"Take it easy now," Jonathan said soothingly. "Go slowly.
Maybe we should carry you to the car."

"No, it isn't necessary." Susan stood on her feet, leaning
against Jonathan, and took in several deep breaths.

A black man appeared on the knoll. "I saw you from the
lane," he announced abruptly. "Can I help?" He was wearing worn brown
twill trousers, a khaki shirt and a stained straw hat. It was a moment
before Susan recognized him, for she'd only see him a few times and at
some distance. It was Abraham Jaimes, Mala's husband.

"Thank you for stopping," Jonathan said to him. "The lady
has had a rather nasty accident." He didn't appear to recognize Abraham
and, indeed, it was probable that he'd never seen him before. Nor did
Curt seem to know who he was, for he looked at the black man with a
blank expression. What was one of Travis's workmen doing so far from
the plantation in the middle of the day? Susan started to say his name,
but then she saw that Abraham was gazing at her as if he'd never seen
her before. For one confused moment, she imagined that there was a
warning in Abraham's still expression, and her acknowledgment of him
died in her throat.

Was it possible that he
didn't
know
who she was? If not, then she might be able to keep what had just
happened from Travis, after all. He would have a fit if he learned
she'd fallen, and Susan could hardly blame him. It
had
been careless of her to go climbing about alone on such uneven ground.
She should have waited for the men in the lane.

"I'm all right," she said, standing straight and
taking
hesitant steps toward the car. "Really, I am."

Jonathan and Curt each took an arm to help her along the
path. Abraham stood motionless, watching them, until they passed the
jeep he had been driving and were back in the Rolls. Jonathan insisted
that she lie down in the back seat, and he and Curt got into the front
with the driver.

The Rolls moved forward. "Look, that jeep's right on our
tail," Curt said after a few moments. From her prone position in the
back seat, Susan couldn't see the road, but she knew that Curt was
speaking of Abraham. Maybe he
had
recognized her
and meant to follow them back to the plantation to assure himself that
she was all right. Then, of course, he would go straight to Travis. She
closed her eyes and tried not to think about it.

At the house, Jonathan helped her inside. Mala heard them
and came into the entryway.

"Mrs. Sennett had a fall," Jonathan told her. "She should
lie down."

Mala looked frightened and began to make little clucking
sounds as she urged Susan toward the living room. "Better not try the
stairs until the doctor sees you."

"You're both making too much fuss," Susan insisted. "I'm
not hurt, except for a few scratches on my knees."

She lay on the couch and Jonathan stood beside her,
anxious and frowning. "Jonathan, stop looking so worried."

Mala hovered beside Jonathan for a moment. "I call Dr. Elliott." She ignored Susan's protests and
went to the telephone that stood on a table at the end of the couch.

"You—you'd better go," Susan said in a low voice
to Jonathan. "The doctor will convince them I'm all right." She didn't
add that she didn't want him there when Travis came in, and she was
certain that Abraham had gone to find him.

But he seemed to understand. "Yes, perhaps you're right.
I—I can't tell you how responsible I feel for what happened.
I should never have allowed you to leave the car. I'll phone you later
to see what the doctor says." He was gone by the time Mala had finished
her telephone conversation.

Whatever the black woman said got Dr. Elliott there within
twenty minutes. In the meantime, Mala had cleansed Susan's scraped
knees and applied a healing salve. Travis was with the doctor when he
came into the living room. They must have met at the front door.

Dr. Elliott pulled a chair over next to the couch and
opened his black bag, pulling out his stethoscope. As he listened for
the baby's heartbeat and questioned Susan, Travis stood beside the
couch, looking grim and quite angry.

Finally the doctor said, "Mother and baby seem fine. I
think you should stay in bed for a couple of days, just as a
precaution, Susan. Whatever you do, don't go for any more hikes."

Relieved at the prognosis, Susan murmured an agreement.
"If you have any pain, call me immediately," Dr. Elliott went on.
"Since you've chosen home delivery, I'd better be with you
from
the beginning. Sometimes a first baby can be difficult."

As Travis showed the doctor out, she left the couch and
headed for the stairs, refusing Mala's offer of aid. But Travis
returned in time to see her intention and, cursing at her
foolhardiness, scooped her into his arms and carried her up to her
room. She clung to his neck, her cheek pressed against his chest. The
strong, steady beat of his heart drummed in her ear.

He laid her on the bed and unbuckled her sandals, removing
them. Then he sat beside her and smoothed back from her face the long
strands of hair that had escaped the pins. He looked into her eyes
anxiously. "When Abraham found me and told me what had
happened—" He broke off, swallowing. "I went through hell
until I got back here and the doctor said you were all right."

"It was all a lot of excitement over nothing," Susan
insisted.

He made a sound of impatience. "I've tried to be tolerant,
but this tears it. I don't want you to see Wicksham again. You could
have been hurt —lost the baby."

She sighed tiredly. "But I wasn't. There's no harm done."

"I could strangle him with my bare hands. This time I'm
going to him and lay down the law."

"I'm the one who went walking where I shouldn't have.
Besides, it wasn't Jonathan's idea to go out into the country. It was
Curt."

"Curt!" The frown lines etched even more deeply between
his brows. "He was with you?"

She nodded, wishing, too late, that she hadn't mentioned
Curt. "He wanted Jonathan to look at some land. They're thinking of
going into business together."

"Don't be naive, Susan! Why would Wicksham want to go into
business with someone like my cousin?"

She turned on her side, away from him. "I don't know and I
don't care. Just let me rest."

She could feel his anger and knew that he wanted to know
more about what had happened that afternoon. But he left the room, and
she moved restlessly on the bed until she found a relatively
comfortable position.

She had no intention of talking to Travis again about her
fall. It had happened because of her own carelessness, but fortunately
she and the baby were unhurt. The way Travis had acted, anyone would
think that Curt and Jonathan had wanted her to fall! She knew why he
was in such an unreasonable state. If she had not been so lucky, she
could have lost the baby—his heir, as he had so pointedly
reminded her. That was what had frightened him so badly. She closed her
eyes and forced back resentment. Soon she was asleep.

She was allowed to leave her bed two days later, with the
stipulation from Dr. Elliott that she keep to the house. She had
expected Jonathan to phone, as he had promised, and on her first trip
downstairs she questioned Mala.

"Have there been any phone calls for me?"

Mala, who was serving her lunch, thought for a moment.
"Miz Harte called yesterday. She comin' out to see you this afternoon,
I think."

It was perhaps a measure of Susan's boredom that she
accepted this announcement with some degree of anticipation. "Weren't
there any other calls? What about Mr. Wicksham?"

Mala looked blank and shook her head. "No'm, nobody else."

Susan knew that there was only one explanation for
Jonathan's failure to inquire about her. Travis had indeed gone to him,
as he had threatened, and told him not to contact his wife again. The
high-handedness of it made her fume. She sheer arrogance of Travis's
thinking he could decide whom she might speak to on the telephone was
beyond belief. But there was little she could do about it at the
moment, she thought angrily, as she felt the baby kick. She
could
tell Travis again that she would pick her own friends, and she decided
to do it that very evening.

She was in the sitting room reading a baby-care manual
that she'd purchased months ago when Kay Harte appeared in the doorway
carrying a bouquet of yellow roses in a hand-painted Italian vase.

"Mala said I should come on back." Kay announced, walking
into the room.

"Hello, Kay." Susan laid the manual aside. She had it
practically memorized by now, anyway. "How did you know I have a thing
for yellow roses?" She accepted the vase, admiring the bouquet from
several angles before setting it down on a low table. "They're
beautiful. Thank you."

Kay looked crisp and cool in her pink shirtwaist dress.
She took a chair and admitted, "Travis mentioned once—oh, months
ago—that you're crazy about yellow roses. I had the devil of
a time finding them in Bridgetown, and then the last florist I called
had them."

"You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

"No trouble," Kay said, smiling. "Tell me, how are you
feeling after your little accident?"

Evidently Travis had told her about what had happened in
the country. How many times had he talked to her since the accident,
Susan wondered. Did he see her or phone her every day? With some
effort, she squeezed these thoughts from her mind. "I feel about as
well as anyone can, under the circumstances." She made a face. "Good
heavens, you look skinny!"

Kay laughed. "You're going to have your figure back in no
time. When's the little stranger due?"

Surely Travis had told her, but Susan played the game of
polite conversation. "Six days from today, and I hope he's not going to
be late."

"He? You've decided it's going to be a boy, have you?"

Susan had been thinking of the baby in those terms for
several weeks now, she realized. She made a gesture of
mock-helplessness. "Travis wants a son, and my husband always gets what
he wants."