Chris (15 page)

Chris gritted her teeth and set her jaw. She threw back the cover and swung her legs to the edge of the bed. She braced her feet against the floor and stood up, holding onto the headboard with one hand.

"Mate, you're a skeptic," she said. "I said I'm going back to New York tonight and I'm going back to New York tonight."

Johnnie moved forward to give her a hand. Chris found that she could not put her weight on the bruised left leg. She let Johnnie help her to a chair. Johnnie did not say anything, but his face was hard with disapproval.

Carol came and sat on the floor at Chris' feet. She cocked her head to one side and winked up at Chris. "You're crazy," she said. "But I love it."

Johnnie stood leaning against the mantle, hands in his trousers' pockets. His black eyes were almost somber. "Look," he said. "I ought to clobber you right now and throw you back in bed. But I won't. What I am going to do is drive you home. It's a long trip and you're not going to make it sitting up in the car. I've got an old mattress from a cot and a bunch of extra blankets.

“I’ll fix up a bed in back of the station wagon. Carol," he said, nodding at the girl, "can follow us in the car. Okay?"

Chris wrinkled her nose distastefully. She didn't enjoy being treated like an invalid. But Johnnie was right. The ache was too much. And maybe she could sleep. Maybe she could sleep enough to get the ache out of her by the time she saw Jonathan. He wouldn't be at all happy if he saw her like this.

"Okay," Chris said. "It's a deal."

"Good," Johnnie said. "I'll go get the wagon ready. We might as well get started as soon as possible." He started toward the door. "If there's anything you want, just send Carol down. I’ll be out back."

When Johnnie had gone, Carol moved closer to Chris and leaned her head against Chris' knee. She looked up at Chris tenderly, her eyes soft with love. "Honey," she said, "what happened out there?"

"I got a cramp in this bum leg of mine, that's all," Chris said. "Johnnie and Clem were right about the rough water. Once I lost the use of my leg, I couldn't pull hard enough to get out of the current." She put out a hand and laid it on Carol's head. "I'm just thankful you were there when I got out. Otherwise I'd be fattening up the gulls by now." She rumpled the girl's hair affectionately.

"I told you you were too stubborn to kill," Carol said. "But what about the trip? Do you think you'll be ready to dive again that soon?"

Chris did not answer for a moment. She was ashamed to admit to Carol how she really felt. But she knew that Carol would guess, and that Carol had a pretty good idea of how badly she had been hurt. So she said, "I'm afraid I'll have to get Brandt to send somebody else with me. I won't miss this trip. But it's going to be a long time before this leg's going to get me anywhere. Not to mention the shoulder."

"I wish I could be with you," Carol said.

Chris smiled down at the girl. "Darling, I wish you could, too." She knew she meant it. Depressed, weary and sore as she was, Chris remembered just two things—that Carol had saved her life, and that Dizz would give her hell for getting hurt.

Carol, her gentle Carol, would not yell at her. Not when she was beaten and miserable.

Too tired to think or care, Chris longed to he in Carol's arms, to let Carol's tender touch and soft words ease the misery of her body and soul. She did not want to have to think anymore. Not about Dizz. Not about Tongariva. Not about anything. She wanted only to be held and loved.

She leaned forward and kissed the top of Carol's head. "Darling," she said, "I love you. And I need you, Carol. I need you to help me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, like we are now, happy and alone."

Carol took Chris' hand and kissed the raw fingers. "Please be sure, honey," she said. "I don't want to lose you, once I think I've got you."

"You've got me, darling. I want to be with you. I want to put my head in your lap and go to sleep and sleep until it doesn't hurt anymore."

"I know, Chris. I know," Carol said.

"Oh, Carol, do you? Do you know I'm finished? That I’ll never go diving again? Or chase off after a pearl or a treasure? Do you know?" Her voice was harsh with suffering. "I'll sit and write articles and limp around on a cane. I'll never get to Tongariva or anywhere else. I'm finished." She looked at Carol with something close to desperation.

"Honey," Carol said, "if I believed that, I'd shoot you now, like a race horse with a broken leg. For your own good." She touched the fingers again with her lips. "But you're going to see Dr. Brandt at nine. You're going to walk in there and tell that man you're going to Tongariva. And a week from now, as you said, you'll be there." She spoke with a conviction that did not sound forced.

Chris knew that it must be so.

They sat together in the dark, content not to talk. Carol sat leaning against the chair, her fingers around Chris' ankle. Chris brooded until, finally, she got bored with it. Then she began to plan.

The problem was first to get back on her feet. Then she could consider diving again. It wouldn't do much good to think about going to Tongariva if she couldn't even walk to the plane.

First you have to move all the movable parts. Like this, with the fingers. She got them into a claw, then relaxed. Then again. Now the leg.

Every movement was a torture. She wanted to scream, to let it out. But she flexed the fingers, then the leg. Then the shoulder, then the leg.

"Honey," Carol said suddenly. "What about Dizz?"

"What about her?" Chris said. She had managed not to think about Dizz for many minutes.

"Well, I'd like to have this week with you before you go"

"That's fair enough," Chris said.

"We'll have to tell her," Carol said.

Chris sighed. She did not relish the task. "Ill tell her myself. As soon as I get home tomorrow. It'll be better that way." She expected there would be a scene.

No reason to put Carol in the middle of it. Carol had had no part in the unhappy thing that had been her life with Dizz. No sense in exposing her to the bitter end of it.

"You're sure you want to do it alone?" Carol asked.

"Positive," Chris said. "I know Dizz."

They heard Johnnie come up the stairs and into the room. He was wearing a black pea jacket and carrying two extra ones over his arm. He-handed one to Carol.

"Okay, skipper," Johnnie said. "I'm ready if you are."

"Right," Chris said. "I think you'd better help me, Johnnie."

Johnnie stepped to the chair as Carol scrambled out of the way. He helped Chris into the jacket and buttoned it for her. Then Johnnie lifted Chris in his arms like a child and carried her out of the room.

Carol switched off the light and followed them down the stairs.

When he had settled Chris comfortably in back of the station wagon, Johnnie turned to Carol.

"We’ll take it slow," Johnnie said. "We've got plenty of time."

Chris lay in the darkness. The voices moved off. She heard the mumble of them in the distance. She kept her eyes closed tight, her lips pressed together. She did not want to cry, and she was very close to it.

For some reason, everything seemed to have gone wrong with her world. Here she was, on the brink of the most important job she'd ever had, and she had gotten smashed up. And here she was, still in love with Dizz, and making plans to go off and live with another woman.

But I love Carol, she thought. She loves me and understands me and she'll help me pull myself together. Dizz wouldn't understand. All she’ll have for me is an "I told you so." She'll despise me for being a failure. And Chris knew that nothing could hurt her more.

She heard Johnnie crunching over the gravel to the car.

"All set, skipper?" Johnnie asked, poking his head in the window.

"Yeah," Chris said. "All set."

Jonathan was having himself a quiet case of hysterics. He had been stamping up and down the office, chewing his nails and massaging his bald pate. Finally he sat down at his desk and made a meager attempt at self-control.

For two hours Chris had been patiently explaining to him that she was not about to die and was not even immobilized, and for two hours he'd been screaming that this was the most expensive and important project the museum had ever undertaken and that he could not risk sending her, that she was obviously in no condition to handle the job.

"All right," Chris said finally. "I’ll make a compromise with you."

Jonathan stopped screaming. “For instance?" he said.

"For instance," Chris said," you send Morris or Disney or somebody else along to help me. I'll let him do most of the dirty work. And take credit for whatever we find. I'll even finance my part of the expenses." It would be well worth it, even if she went a little hungry for awhile.

Jonathan frowned. "But why?" he said.

"Look, Jonathan," Chris said. "This trip means more to me now than finding Glories. It means my whole future. I have to prove to myself that I haven't been relegated to arm chair exploring."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "Are you afraid you might be?"

He had been waiting a long time for her to come a cropper, Chris knew, on account of Dizz. At the same time, he was not anxious to lose Chris as a scout for the museum. From the look on his face, Chris knew he could not decide whether to clap or weep.

Chris shook her head. "Not afraid, Jonathan. Just too block-headed to admit it."

"Well," he said, bringing his fingers together under his chin, "since you put it that way, I haven't much choice. But how do I know you're not going to take ridiculous risks? If anything happens to you, I'll get it in the neck."

"I’ll swear to it," she said.

He sat pensively pursing his lips. Then he said, "Sheila's going to go with you, isn't she?"

Chris did not answer for a long minute. She knew what Jonathan had in mind. He would not trust her to behave, but he would trust Dizz to keep an eye on her. Dizz could be most adamant about a responsibility to anybody but Chris. She wanted others to think only the best of her. Chris guessed Dizz probably wanted her good opinion too. She just couldn't keep up the front all the time.

She thought of Carol and her promise to tell Dizz she was leaving her. Yet she knew that without Dizz, Jonathan could keep her from making this trip. And at the moment nothing was as important as this trip.

"Yes," she said. "She is."

"Yes," Jonathan said. "I think we can count on Sheila to keep you in line."

He came out from behind his chair and walked to where Chris sat. "You have everything in order, I trust."

"Naturally," Chris said. She handed him the heavy folder. "Look it over."

Jonathan was not satisfied until he had made a personal evaluation of every grain of sand on the island. He harangued over each minutest detail. Finally he closed the folder and clasped his hands on top of it. He looked across at Chris, a smile of approval in his eyes.

"Good," he said. "You'll leave the city Thursday at noon. We’ll have a car here at eleven to take you and the others to the plane. We'll check on Wednesday for last minute items." He rose and leaned over the desk to shake Chris' hand. "Good hunting, Chris," he said.

“Thanks, Jonathan," she said.

Chris limped painfully from Jonathan's office, then stopped outside the door and leaned her back against the wall. Now that she was all clear with Jonathan, she had another problem on her hands.

What could she tell Carol to make her understand? Surely she must know how important this trip was to Chris.

But how could she know? Chris herself hadn't known until this morning. Lying awake on the mattress in the back of Johnnie's station wagon, she'd thought about nothing else the whole long way home. And she had lifted Dizz out of the framework of her plans and fitted Carol in. It would seem strange without Dizz, maybe even lonely for awhile. Dizz was not good for her, she knew. A life of self-denial and frustration, of self-abasement and of abuse was all she could hope for with Dizz. But there was a challenge there she would never have with Carol. The wish to possess something that would not be possessed, like chasing a butterfly that flitted always out of reach.

She and Carol could build something great together, working and playing and living together. A rich, constructive, satisfying life. Carol did not have the fatal fascination that belonged to Dizz. But she was gentle and good. She was beautiful and she could respond to passion, could feel desire and follow it to satisfaction. She would be good for Chris. They would be good for each other.

How can I tell her? How can I say, "I love you but you'll have to wait. I want to live with you, but I have something more important to do first."

Chris sighed and left her post against the wall. She walked back to the solarium. She did not bother to knock, but entered and stopped just inside the door.

Carol and Johnnie were drinking coffee, nervous and waiting to hear from her.

"Hi," Chris said. "Johnnie, do me a favor and wait for me in the station wagon, will you? I want to talk to Carol." Her eyes were pleading.

"Sure, skipper," Johnnie said. He got up immediately and left the room.

Chris watched Johnnie leave, then turned to face Carol.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Carol said. "Did he say no?"

"Not quite. He made it conditional," Chris answered. She sat down in the chair Johnnie had just left. "I agreed to take another diver and put up the cash for my share." She frowned. She did not know how to phrase the rest.

"What else?" Carol asked quietly.

Chris flushed, knowing her discomfort was plain on her face. "He insists that Dizz go along as originally planned. He's always had a thing for Dizz. He trusts her more than he trusts me, anyhow."

Carol hesitated before she asked. "Did you agree?"

"Yes."

Carol got up from her chair and went to stand at the counter by the windows. She was crying almost silently.

Chris did not move. She did not have the words to comfort the girl. She could only wait until the hurt had passed and hope that Carol would forgive her.

After a few minutes Carol came to stand behind Chris' chair. She put her cool hands on either side of Chris' neck and massaged with gentle fingers.