The Scorpio Illusion Part 6

"Id been away too long, far longer than I would have been without you. Organizationally, things were a mess, and several interfering government regimes werent helping. But now that the Quai dOrsay is firmly behind us, things are easier." "How so?"

"For example, one time last year in Ethiopia ..." As she spoke of the triumphs of her several charities-over bureaucratic barriers or far worse-her natural ebullience lent a kind of lovely electricity to everything about her. Her wide, soft eyes were so alive, her face so expressive, revealing that well of infinite hope she drew from and which sustained her. Her capacity for compa.s.sion was almost unreal, made infinitely credible by a sincerity that bordered on naivete, in itself denied by a soft-spoken intelligence and worldliness.

"... so you see, we got through with twenty-eight trucks! You cant imagine what it was like to see the villagers, especially the children whose hunger was in their faces, and the older ones who had nearly given up hope! I dont think I ever cried with so much happiness.... And now the supplies get through regularly, and were branching out everywhere, as long as we keep up the pressure!"

"Keep up ...?"

"You know, my darling, hara.s.s the hara.s.sers with our own threats, presented gently, of course, with our very official doc.u.ments. The Republic of France is not to be toyed with!" Dominique smiled triumphantly, her eyes bright.

He loved her so. She could not leave him again!

"Lets go get a drink," said Hawthorne.

"Oh, yes, please! I do so want to talk to you, Tye. I missed you so. I have an appointment with my uncles lawyer at the bank, but he can wait."

"Its called island charm. n.o.body gets anywhere on time."

"Ill call him from wherever we are."

4.

They sat at a sidewalk cafe, their hands clasped across the table as a waiter brought Dominique an iced tea and Hawthorne a carafe of chilled white wine. Tyrell spoke.

"Why did you disappear?"

"I told you. I had other commitments."

"We might have become one, a commitment, I mean."

"Thats what frightened me. Quite simply, you were becoming too important."

"For what? I thought you felt the way I did."

"Your confusion and your guilt about Ingrid were overwhelming, Tye. You didnt drink because you were an alcoholic, your charters proved that. You simply had to go a little wild when you werent responsible for anyone but yourself. You couldnt forgive yourself for what happened."

"That was it, wasnt it?"

"What was?"

"You wanted to be more than a nursemaid, and I was so wrapped up in myself, I couldnt see it. Im so sorry."

"Tye, you were deeply hurt and bewildered, I understood that. If Id felt the way you say, we wouldnt have had the time we did together. Almost two years, my darling."

"It wasnt long enough."

"No, it wasnt."

"Remember how we first met?" asked Hawthorne warmly, his eyes locked with hers.

"How could I forget?" she replied, laughing softly and squeezing his hand. "Id leased a boat and was sailing it into the marina on St. Thomas when I had some difficulty pulling into the slip I was told to use."

"Difficulty? You came in under full sail as though you were tacking toward a racing marker. You scared the h.e.l.l out of me."

"I dont know how afraid you were, but you were certainly angry."

"Dominique, my sloop was moored in your direct line of attack."

"Oh, yes, you stood on your deck, waving your arms and swearing at me-but then I did manage to miss you, didnt I?"

"I still dont know how you did it."

"You couldnt see, my darling. You were so angry, youd fallen into the water." They both laughed, leaning toward each other over the table. "I felt so ashamed," continued Dominique softly. "But I did apologize to you when you came on sh.o.r.e."

"Yes, you did, at Fishbaits Whisky Shack. Your coming over to me made me the envy of all the charters ... and it was the beginning of some of the happiest months of my life. What I remember best were the sails we took alone to so many tiny islands, sleeping on the beaches-making love there."

"And loving, my darling."

"Can we start again? The past recedes, and Im a lot less screwed up now. Im even known to laugh a lot and tell dumb jokes, and youd like my brother.... Can we start again, Dominique?"

"Im married, Tye."

It was as though Hawthorne had been struck by the bow of an ocean liner while in a fog-bound sea. For several moments he could not speak, speech was beyond him; he was capable only of lowering his eyes and doing his best to simulate normal breathing. He began to release Dominiques hand; she abruptly stopped him, covering both with her free one. "Please dont, my darling."

"Hes a lucky fellow," said Tyrell, staring at their hands. "Is he also a nice guy?"

"Hes sweet and devoted and very, very rich."

"Hes got two out of three more than I do. But devoted I would be."

"The rich helped, I wont deny that. I dont have particularly expensive tastes, but my causes arent cheap. And the modeling profession, which certainly afforded me a lovely apartment and glorious clothes, doesnt care to hire crazy crusaders. I was glad to leave it behind me. I was never comfortable showing off designs barely an iota of the buying public could afford."

"Youre in another world, lady. Youre also a happily married woman, then?"

"I didnt say that," said Dominique quietly, firmly, her eyes now focused on their entwined hands.

"I missed something."

"We are a marriage of convenience, as La Rochefoucauld phrased it."

"I beg your pardon?" Hawthorne raised his eyes, studying her pa.s.sive face.

"My husband is a closet h.o.m.os.e.xual."

"Thank G.o.d for favors, large and small."

"Hed find that amusing.... We lead a strange life, Tye. Hes quite influential and extremely generous, not only in helping me raise funds but in the area of government a.s.sistance, which we frequently need."

"As in those official doc.u.ments you mentioned?" said Tyrell.

"Right to the top of the Quai dOrsay." Dominique smiled her engaging smile. "He says its little enough he can do, for he insists Im an enormous a.s.set to him."

"Obviously. No one could possibly ignore him with you at his side."

"Oh, he goes further than that. He insists I attract a better cla.s.s of clients, for only the wealthiest could afford me, if I were available. Its a joke, of course." With what appeared to be warm regret, Dominique disengaged her hands from his.

"Of course." Hawthorne poured the rest of the wine into his gla.s.s and leaned back in his chair. "Youre out here visiting your uncle on Saba?" he asked.

"Good Lord, I completely forgot! I really must call the bank and reach his lawyer.... Now you know what happens to me when I see you again."

"Id like to believe that-"

"You can, Tyrell," interrupted Dominique softly, leaning forward, her wide brown eyes riveted on his. "You really can, my darling.... Wheres the phone, Im sure I saw one."

"Its in the lobby."

"Ill be back in a few minutes. Dear old Uncle is thinking of moving again; his neighbors have become too considerate."

"Sabas recluse of recluses, as I recall," said Tyrell, smiling. "No phones, no mail, and, where possible, no visitors."

"I insisted on a satellite dish." Dominique moved back her chair and stood up. "He loves to watch international soccer; he thinks its black magic, but he watches it constantly.... Ill hurry."

"Ill be here." Hawthorne gazed at the receding figure of the woman he had thought was gone from his life. The rush of contradictory information was not much different from being buffeted by strong winds. The marriage had nearly drowned him; the marriage that was not a marriage at all had restored his breath, the new buoyancy exhilarating.... He could not lose her again; he would not lose her again.

He wondered if she would think to call her uncle on Saba and tell him shed be late returning. There were interisland planes usually every hour until the early evening, an aerial network throughout the chain. Theirs could not be a brief h.e.l.lo and good-bye, it was unthinkable, and he knew her well enough to realize she understood that. He smiled to himself at the thought of the eccentric uncle he had never met, the Parisian attorney who had spent more than thirty years in the swirling, back-stabbing world of arbitrage, racing from boardrooms to courtrooms, millions in the balance with every decision he made, and even then wary of panicking clients who too frequently put money before principle, voiding his hours of concentration.

All of this for a quiet, gentle man who wanted only to get away from the energy-sapping insanity and paint flowers and sunsets, a self-proclaimed latter-day Gauguin. Upon his retirement, Dominique said, he had packed his elderly maid, left a cold, impervious wife with more than enough to continue her extravagant ways, not bothered to contact two insufferable daughters, both infected with their mothers disease of greed, and flown off to the Caribbean "in search of my Tahiti."

Saba had been an accident brought about by a conversation with a stranger at the airport bar in Martinique. The man was a runaway who had decided to run back and spend his final years in the lights of Paris, and he had a modest but well-built house to sell on an island called Saba. Intrigued, Dominiques uncle had inquired further and was shown several billfold snapshots of the house in question. Sight unseen, except for the snapshots, the retired attorney bought it instantly, drawing up the papers himself on a nearby table while his maid looked on in astonishment and not a little trepidation. He then proceeded to place a call to his Paris firm, instructing his former vice president, now president, to pay the owner in full upon the mans arrival in Paris. His former subordinate was to deduct the purchase price from his former superiors generous pension. There was only one proviso-delivered to the owner in the airports bar. The man was to reach the local telephone company on Saba and have every phone in the house removed immediately. The perplexed returning expatriate, his good fortune beyond his dreams, got in touch with the island phone office on an airport pay phone, fairly screaming his instructions.

The Caribbean was filled with such stories, for the islands were a haven for the disaffected, the burnt out, and the progressively dissolute. It took someone with compa.s.sion to understand them, someone of substance to care. And Dominique, one of the worlds original do-gooders, cared enough for her runaway uncle to pay attention.

"Would you believe it?" Dominique interrupted Tyrells reverie as she approached her chair. "The lawyer left a message for me that he was tied up and could we make it tomorrow! He made it abundantly clear that he would have phoned me on the island if there were a telephone."

"Logics on his side."

"Then I made another call, Commander-it was Commander, wasnt it?" Dominique sat down.

"Long ago," replied Tyrell, shaking his head, "and Ive since upgraded myself. Im a captain now, because its my own s.h.i.+p-boat."

"Thats upgrading?"

"Take my word for it, a full promotion. Whom did you call?"

"My uncles neighbors, the couple are so considerate, he wants to move again. They keep coming over with fresh vegetables from their garden, bypa.s.s the maid, and interrupt his painting-or his soccer."

"They sound like nice people."

"They are; he isnt, bless his cantankerous heart. Nevertheless, I gave them a chance to legitimately break in on him. I asked them to go over and tell him that there were problems with off-island owners.h.i.+p of property, that his lawyer, the bank, and I were trying to resolve them. Id be quite late getting back."

"Wonder of wonders," said Hawthorne, grinning, his full buoyancy returned. "I was hoping youd manage to reach him."

"Could I do anything else, my darling? I wasnt being polite, Tye. Ive missed you so."

"I just checked out of a room down the street," Tyrell said hesitantly. "Im sure I can get it back."

"Please. Do so, please. Whats the name of the hotel?"

"Hotels a little grand for what it is. Its called the Flamboyant, also a touch out of its cla.s.s."

"Go there, my darling, and Ill join you in ten or fifteen minutes. Tell the desk Im expected and to give me the room number."

"Why?"

"I want to bring you-us-a present. This is a celebration!" she said.

They held each other in the confines of the small hotel room, Dominique trembling in Hawthornes arms. The gift she had brought them was three bottles of chilled champagne, all carried upstairs in ice buckets by an overtipped desk clerk.

"At least its white wine," said Tyrell, releasing her and going to the trays on the bureau, opening the first bottle. "Do you realize I havent had any whiskey since four days after you disappeared? Of course, I drank up the entire islands supply in those four days and lost two charters, but thats when the bourbon bottles went into the drink."

"Then my leaving you had one positive result. Whiskey was only a crutch for you, not a necessity." Dominique sat at the small round table that overlooked the harbor of St. Barts.

"Spare me, Im not the same guy." Hawthorne carried their gla.s.ses and the bottle to the table, then pulled back the chair opposite her. "Whats that corny phrase?" he said, sitting down. " 'Heres looking at you, kid?"

"Heres to both of us, my darling." They drank, and Hawthorne refilled their gla.s.ses.

"So you have a charter here?" asked Dominique.

"No," Tyrell thought quickly, looking briefly out the window. "Im checking out Barts for a Florida hotel syndicate; theyre counting on the fact that gambling will be here soon and want my input. Its happening all over the islands, the economies are screaming for it."

"Yes, Ive heard that. Its sad, in a way."

"Very sad, and probably unavoidable. Casinos make for jobs.... I dont want to talk about the islands, I want to talk about us."

"Whats there to talk about, Tye? Your life is here, mine is in Europe, or Africa, or the refugee camps in the besieged countries, where people need our help. Pour me another; you and the wine are intoxicating."

"What about you, a life for you?" Hawthorne filled their gla.s.ses.

"It will come soon enough, my darling. One day Ill come back, and, if youre not entangled, Ill sit on your Olympic Charters doorstep and say, 'h.e.l.lo there, Commander, take me or throw me to the sharks. "

"How soon is soon enough?"