Chapter Six. I am tired. Unbelievably tired

Monday.

I am tired. Unbelievably tired. It breaks my heart to say goodbye to my beautiful island. I planted another hibiscus near Rebecca’s mango tree this morning and made my farewells. My body aches. I cannot endure another needle. They tell me I’m a fool to refuse further treatment but I’ll swear it’s worse than the disease. I can’t turn away their pain relief, though. Since it went into my bones I simply can’t imagine how a person does without the drugs. Last night I dreamed of Rebecca, dreamed she was holding me again. I am nearly ready to leave and still I have not written to Annabel…

Guiltily Annabel snapped her aunt’s diary closed. The answer is on the island, the letter had said. Surely she didn’t have to invade her aunt’s privacy, snoop about among the most intimate details of another woman’s life to uncover it. Was that what Aunt Annie had intended?

For a moment Annabel imagined someone else in her shoes, some cousin who had barely known Annie. What would they make of the diaries? Over thirty years worth piled into boxes in her aunt’s attic study. And the letters! Bundle after bundle, tied with thin ribbon and stuffed into the window seat.

The house itself was wonderful, a large sprawling timber construction, built around a central garden-filled courtyard and skirted by deep shady verandahs. Its name was Villa Luna and Annabel had loved it at first sight. It was built on the highest northwestern aspect of the island and looked out across jungle and palms to the huge blue of the Pacific. Set above a belt of stately mango trees, it was screened from ocean winds and the curiosity of the rare passers-by who might walk the beach below.

Exploring the property, Annabel had been amazed and delighted at how immediately at home she felt there, how oddly familiar it all seemed. It was as though she belonged, as if in some strange way the island had been waiting for her.

Behind the villa was a grassy glade and a stable housing a single black mare. Aunt Annie had adored horses and Kahlo, as the mare was called, had arrived by ferry only last year after her predecessor had died of old age. I’m too weak to ride her now, Annie had noted in her diary, but I can watch her run and keep her company. According to Mrs. Marsters, who kept house for the island several days a week, the mare was often tethered to the verandah and Annie would sit reading and writing, periodically talking to her like a friend.

During her first week on the island, Annabel had gradually befriended the elegant creature, and today for the first time she saddled her up. Kahlo shied a little initially, then whickered her acceptance as Annabel climbed into the saddle and gently guided her toward the jungle tracks. Soon she was behaving as though she had never known another rider. Her tail lifted, she pricked up her ears, stretched her pace, and responded to Annabel’s commands like a show-jumper.

They negotiated a path down through the mangos to Passion Bay and trotted along the beach. Whinnying at the sight of water, Kahlo strained at the reins, plainly thrilled by the change of scenery. Careful not to overtire the horse after her more sedentary existence, Annabel did not allow her to gallop. Later in the afternoon she tethered her to the front verandah and was gratified when the mare approached and contentedly nuzzled her lap while she read.

The diary was written over thirty years ago.

Father is at me again to marry Roger and even Laura is hounding me. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve told Rebecca that I must see her and begged her to come with me this summer. She says I cannot dither any longer and I must put poor Roger out of his misery, but he refuses to listen. What can I do?

Three weeks later another passage:

Oh joy! Oh bliss. Rebecca is coming with me to Europe. Last night we sat for hours in her car just talking and Rebecca gave me this little ring with a diamond horseshoe set in it for luck. I can hardly concentrate for thinking about her, imagining her on some Greek Island, wearing only flowers.

Annabel closed her eyes and stroked Kahlo absently. She had known Annie was a lesbian, her mother’s scandalous younger sister, the family skeleton in the closet. But who was Rebecca? Her aunt had never mentioned her. Yet obviously they had been in love, perhaps even lovers. Way back in the nineteen-sixties.

She sipped her iced tea and lapsed for a moment into her own private fantasy centered around the woman on the plane yesterday. Cody. Short for Cordelia. Annabel called to mind her deep, lazy accent. Australian-sounding, only softer. I lahve swemming, she’d said, looking down at the sea. And Annabel remembered; New Zealand was an island, too.

She had seemed shy, dropping her eyes whenever Annabel looked at her. Did she find her appearance repulsive? She wouldn’t be the first. Annabel felt the same sharp pang she’d experienced all through adolescence. She could have sworn she sensed genuine interest and had flirted lightly to test the water. Cody had responded—she hadn’t imagined that.

Cody was in Hibiscus Villa, the house nearest hers. Peering east past the mangos, Annabel made out the pattern of a thatched roof nestled among the palms. Perhaps she would call by tomorrow on some pretext. Maybe invite her to dinner. She conjured a vision of Cody sitting on her verandah, smoothing back that dark, cropped hair with the same appealing gesture that had caught her eye at the airport.

Annabel tried to recall when she had last made love. Months ago, maybe longer. She could barely remember. She had neither the time nor the energy these days of late. All of a sudden she wanted to change all that. Warm, perfumed air went straight to the groin, she concluded.

Cody pulled off her shorts and left them in a heap with her shirt, hat, and shades under a large beach umbrella. It was stupid to wear togs, she supposed, on an empty beach with no one to shock but a few gulls. But old habits die hard and Cody had never been nude bathing in her life. She poked an experimental toe into the water. It was clear and very warm. Reveling in its balmy caress, she swam out into the lagoon, conscious of the outlying coral reef and testing the currents for safety.

The water was amazingly calm, totally different from the chilly surf she was used to in Wellington. It was almost too good to be true, she decided, flipping onto her back and drifting toward the shore. Back home everyone would be shivering in their woolen pants, lighting fires, and buying king-size boxes of tissues. And here she was, swanning about on a deserted island, lapping up the sun and sea on a beach called, of all things, Passion Bay.

How did it get its name? she wondered idly, and imagined a range of highly erotic possibilities, most of them involving the woman on the plane. Annabel. Cody tested the name silently and remembered her bedroom smile, the way she had stood, hands on hips, eyeing Cody. The way she had flirted.

She seemed very sophisticated, quite unlike anyone Cody knew. She thought of Margaret—small voluptuous Margaret, the life and soul of the party, the woman who could sell sand to the Arabs. Her throat tightened and she fought off a flood of memories.

Damn Margaret! Cody wished she could erase every trace of her from her life, slam the door on the last five years. She wished she could forget that Margaret’s favorite color was blue, the very same blue as the sky over Passion Bay. She wished she could forget her elfin face, the dark freckles sprayed across her nose, her innocent, teasing eyes. But somehow Margaret kept seeping through the smallest cracks in her consciousness, at the very moments when Cody least expected her.

Feeling the gritty swirl of sand around her feet, she turned onto her belly and hoisted herself up onto the beach, lying where the half-hearted breakers lapped the shore. To hell with Margaret. This was her holiday and she was not about to let thoughts of her ex-lover dominate it. Margaret had done enough damage already. Willing herself to relax and empty her mind, she stood and washed herself off with sea water.

This place never saw winter, she supposed, returning to her shade umbrella and flopping down on her towel. She wondered how hot it would get in January, during the peak of the South Pacific summer. Unbearable, no doubt. She picked up her book and read a few pages without really concentrating. It felt strange and very decadent not to be at work. She should have invited Janet to come on holiday with her, she thought with a pang of guilt.

Cody closed her eyes and reminded herself that she was entitled to have this time alone. Besides, if Janet had come that would probably make her some kind of accessory, enjoying the proceeds of the crime. Cody’s thoughts strayed to the black briefcase in her friend’s room—of course, that implicated her as well. She closed her eyes, blocking out an image of Janet in a cell downtown with hardened criminals. The heat and the hypnotic pulse of the ocean were making her sleepy. Contentedly, she allowed herself to drift.

“I hope you’re wearing a sun block, ” a voice intruded just as she felt herself nodding off. Startled, she blinked up at the speaker, shielding her eyes from the glare.

It was her, this time staring down with an expression of faint concern.

“You’re probably not used to this kind of heat, ” she told Cody in a businesslike tone. “Although I guess you don’t need to be as careful as I do.”

She wore a white pajama-style outfit in lightweight cotton, a large drooped-brim hat and dark glasses. Cody figured her skin was so fair she would burn terribly unless she protected it. If Annabel ever sported a tan, it would be compliments of that instant bronzing stuff.

“I thought you might have fallen asleep.” Politely Annabel removed her sunglasses, her eyes roaming Cody with candid appreciation. “I was worried.”

Cody pulled herself up to sitting position, at once conscious of her inadequate bikini top and Annabel’s steady lavender gaze. “I put cream on earlier, ” she said. “And I do tan easily. But you’re right. Even with my skin I’d turn to lobster if I lay out here all afternoon.”

Annabel lowered herself onto the sand next to Cody. “I plaster myself all over in factor forty. I’m always terrified I’ll miss a spot so I tend to keep my clothes on. And of course, I can only swim at night. It’s kind of wonderful…naked in the moonlight.” Stretching languidly, she propped herself back on her hands and surveyed Cody with an expression that was hard to decipher. “How’s the water today? ”

“It’s divine. I love this beach. Beats a sand storm on Lyall Bay any day.”

Annabel looked at her sideways. “Lyall Bay? ”

“A beach where I live. The place is more famous for its wind than its surf. Open your mouth and it fills up with sand.”

Annabel laughed softly. It melted like caramel in the back of her throat. “Sounds like a real resort.”

“It can be…when the locals aren’t tossing fish and chip wrappers all over it and letting their rottweilers practice guard duty on the swimmers.”

“Lends a whole new meaning to Jaws.” Annabel’s eyes sparkled.

Rolling onto her side, Cody leaned on one elbow to face her. “What line of work are you in? ”

Annabel didn’t answer at first. Returning her dark glasses to her face, she said, as if weighing her words, “I was in the financial sector, but I’m not working at the moment.” It sounded evasive, and Cody wondered with a quick jolt whether she had lost her job, too.

“Me, neither. I was made redundant.”

“Redundant? Oh, you mean laid off.” Annabel moved closer to Cody so she was fully shaded by the umbrella, and changed position, lying flat on her back.

Cody watched her fine cotton shirt settle on the outline of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the fabric clung slightly where her skin was damp with the heat. Cody experienced a crazy urge to lean across and bite a nipple through the thin covering. Embarrassed, she looked away, suddenly tongue-tied.

“What was your job? ” Annabel asked.

“I’m a DBA, ” Cody managed to sound like she wasn’t hyperventilating. “Database Administrator. I specialize in systems security.”

“Computers.” Annabel sounded dismayed. “Wonderful inventions, but—”

“Who’d want to work with them? ”

“I don’t know how we ever lived without them. I certainly couldn’t have done my job. All the same, I can’t imagine anything worse than having to manage one for a living.” Annabel smiled quickly. “I’m sorry. I hope you’re not offended.”

“Deeply, ” Cody said, poker-faced. “You’ve no idea what it does to a girl’s social life to talk encryption and platform—I mean women are simply bowled over, rendered speechless.” She sat up, brushed the sand slowly off her arms and breasts, and began to apply more lotion in long slow caresses, conscious of Annabel following her movements. Dropping her voice conspiratorially, she added. “It’s the mystique of the machine. Why do you do it, they ask…” Turning her attention to her legs, she parted them and applied cream along the insides of her thighs.

“So why do you do it? ” Annabel asked.

“Because it’s there.”

Annabel burst out laughing. “Well thank you for sharing.”

Cody unfastened the back of her bikini top, dropped the bottle onto Annabel’s stomach, and asked with brazen innocence, “Would you mind doing my back? ”

Screened by the dark lenses, Annabel’s expression was unreadable. She sat up, squeezed some lotion into her palm, and applied it methodically to Cody’s shoulders and neck. After a moment she asked, “Seriously, though, aren’t there things you’d rather do? I mean, I know you computer people are all that stands between us and the end of the world come the millennium, but really.”

Cody took a moment to respond, distracted by the sensory banquet of Annabel’s hands on her nape, her fragrance in her nostrils, the husky softness of her voice. “I can’t think of anything right now.” She had intended to say it flippantly, but a trace of defensiveness crept into her voice. Her jobless situation made her feel self-conscious, she supposed.

Annabel screwed the cap back on the lotion and wiped her hands on the towel. Facing Cody, she moistened her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “Are you sure about that? ”

Cody’s stomach dropped. This time she knew she was not imagining the innuendo. She had been flirting with Annabel and the other woman was returning it in kind. But then perhaps Annabel flirted with everyone, female or male. Sexual game-playing was a way of life for some women, so much so that it became unconscious. Well, two could play at that, and Cody was a free woman now. She could do what she liked.

Refastening her bikini top, she returned Annabel’s steady regard. “That would depend on the offer.”

A wicked smile pulled at the corners of Annabel’s mouth and she cocked her head to one side. “Tease, ” she said.

Her tone was one of playful invitation. If she wanted this flirtation to deepen, the door was wide open. But Cody’s boldness suddenly deserted her, and she took refuge in a safer conversational tack. “So, how do you like the island? ”

For a split second Annabel did not respond. Then, with a trace of resignation, she picked up the ball. “I love it here. After Boston it’s incredibly tranquil. The air tastes really fresh and everything is so lush and tropical. Have you ever been to Boston? ”

“I’ve never visited the States at all, ” Cody confessed. “Back home most people think it’s really dangerous. You know, crime everywhere, lunatics shooting up schools, crack babies. That’s all we get to hear about in the news.”

Annabel clasped her arms around her knees. “And all I know about New Zealand is that you have the most sheep in the world.”

“Three million people and seventy million sheep, ” Cody said. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”

Annabel laughed. It was deep, rich laughter that lingered in the warm air about them. “I guess vegetarianism is virtually a capital offense.”

“No, but we’re all very biodegradable. Besides, we don’t have to eat our mutton. We sell it to the Iranians.”

“You talk to the Iranians? ”

“No, ” Cody said blandly. “We sell to them.”

Both women chuckled. “Are you married? ” Annabel asked abruptly.

“Good God, no! ” Cody gave a graphic shudder, then felt embarrassed that she might have put her foot in it. Guardedly, she asked Annabel, “Are you? ”

“I was once, ” Annabel said. “Years ago in my callow youth.”

Cody felt a sharp pang of disappointment. Annabel was straight after all. Or was she? Heaps of lesbians had been married. “So what happened? ”

“I guess what didn’t happen was more the point. I was just a kid and Toby was everything my parents hoped for. I had such low self-esteem back then that I would have done nearly anything for approval.”

Low self-esteem! Cody’s face must have registered her disbelief, because Annabel sounded suddenly defensive. “I know it’s probably hard for someone like you to understand. You seem so confident. I suppose you’ve never had any doubts about yourself.”

What did she mean by that? Doubts about being a lesbian? “To a certain extent that’s true, ” Cody admitted. “But I wouldn’t say I’m brimming with self-esteem. Especially since…” She trailed off and deftly changed the subject. “So anyway what happened to Mr. Terrific? ”

“I left him after six months. Told him he deserved better than a frigid wife.”

Cody snorted. “I guess there was no question that you were the one with the problem? ”

Annabel shrugged. “It was the quickest way out. Besides, I’d fallen for someone, and it didn’t feel a bit like how it was with Toby.”

“Do tell, ” Cody prompted. “This is better than ‘Days of Our Lives.’”

“It was a woman.” Annabel slowly shook her head, her tone nostalgic. “Miss Clarice Harvey, my mother’s new piano teacher. She was wonderful. Tall, clever and very pre-Raphaelite. I’d moved back home after my marriage broke up, and she used to visit once a week. After three months I asked her out.” She fell into reflective silence.

Cody prompted, “Did she accept? ”

“Yes.” Annabel sighed. “But alas, it was a lesson in un-requited lust. She was engaged to a violinist with the Boston Symphony, and she wanted to bring him along on our date.”

“Say no more.” Cody grimaced. “Did you let her? ”

“Of course not. But she spent the whole evening talking about him anyway. God it was a disaster! In the end I bared my soul and, as calm as you please, she said, ‘Oh my goodness you must be a lesbian.’”

Cody burst out laughing, then apologized. “Hell, I’m sorry. Talk about insensitive.”

“Don’t worry about it, ” Annabel said. “I’ve always aspired to comedy. Anyway, do you know anyone who has a nice straightforward coming out story? ”

“Well actually…”

Annabel groaned. “Tell me it’s not true.”

“What can I say? I just started falling in love with girls, and finally one of them loved me back.”

“You never dated guys? ”

“A few times. Double dates mostly. But nothing serious, I mean I’ve never slept with one or anything.”

“Lucky you, ” Annabel muttered. “So are you in a relationship at the moment? ”

Cody paused. Chewing her lip, she studied the pattern on the towel. “No, ” she finally responded, her throat contracting. “I was, but…”

Annabel touched her arm lightly, unexpectedly, the gesture of comfort stirring a clamor of mixed emotion. “I’m sorry. When did it happen? ”

“Five weeks ago.” Cody cradled her head against her knees for a moment.

Annabel’s fingers tightened a little. “Rough? ”

Cody nodded, hunching her shoulders. She wished she didn’t feel so raw. Here she was in this beautiful place with this beautiful woman, and what was she doing? Talking about her ex.

“Is that why you came to the island? ” Annabel asked. She sounded tentative, as if wary of intruding.

“It’s part of the reason, ” Cody said huskily.

“And the rest? ” Annabel’s hand moved to rest cautiously on Cody’s shoulder.

A small shiver of awareness snaked down Cody’s spine. Unsettled by her wayward response to Annabel’s touch, she felt awkward. “It’s kind of complicated, ” she said evasively.

“I’m sorry. You must think me dreadfully inquisitive. I don’t mean to be.”

Her arm dropped. Cody immediately missed its weight and warmth. “It’s fine, ” she said. Why couldn’t she accept Annabel’s empathy for what it was, instead of reacting sexually to her slightest touch?

“I’m here if you want to talk about it, ” Annabel offered. “Sometimes it’s easier with a stranger.”

“That’s really nice of you, ” Cody said, conscious that her tone was unenthusiastic. “Right now I don’t think I can, but thanks.”

“No problem.” Annabel paused, then, as if against her better judgment, said, “Don’t give yourself a hard time. Everyone copes differently. It’s still very fresh.”

Understanding that she was trying to reach out to her on a level beyond the superficial, Cody felt both touched and embarrassed. Annabel was making an effort to relate to her, and she was backing off as fast as she could. “It’s weird, ” she spoke her thoughts out loud. “I’d never consider getting back together with her. And I’m angry with myself almost as much as her over what happened. So I don’t understand why I’m not just over it. I guess I need to do some work on my grief.”

Annabel grinned. “How about doing some work on your holiday instead. Have dinner with me tonight? ”

Cody felt her heart lurch. Dinner. “That would be great.”

“Say seven o’clock? ” Annabel traced a map in the sand with her finger. “My place is here, ” she said, making an X. “You can’t miss it. Just cut through the mango trees and look for a gabled roof. If I’m not there when you arrive, grab a chair and help yourself to a drink.” She got to her feet and brushed herself off. “I’m flying into Rarotonga this afternoon. Do you need anything? ”

Conscious of a sharp sense of disappointment that she was leaving already, Cody said, “No thanks.”

“Then I’ll see you later.” With a brief wave, Annabel strolled off across the white sand.