Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz
“It's those damn Elizabeth Nord papers, isn't it?” Gideon lifted his hand to touch the necklace around her throat. “That woman is having more of an effect on you now that she's gone than she ever had when she was alive.”
“She's making me ask some questions and find some answers,” Hannah agreed quietly.
“A part of you wants to become like her. You told me once that she was the kind of woman who didn't need anyone, not a lover or a child or even a close friend.”
“She was strong. Totally self-sufficient. Like you,” Hannah added. “And until I have that same kind of strength I think my safest course is to steer clear of people like you.”
“You can't steer clear of me, honey. I want you too much to just let you go off in search of yourself. Especially when I don't like the direction you've chosen to follow.”
She tugged on her shirt. “What's wrong with the direction I've chosen?”
“It scares the hell out of me.”
Her head came around in astonishment. “It scares you?”
“Yeah.”
“You don't want a strong woman for this summer affair you're planning, is that it?” She stood up and tugged on her jeans. “You want a pleasantly weak, malleable sort of female.”
“You're already strong enough, Hannah. What scares me is that if you keep drifting in your current direction you won't care what happens to me any longer.”
She stared at him. “Maybe that way I'll feel safe. Safe enough to come and stay with you for a while in Tucson.”
“I don't want you locking yourself safely away in some invisible cage, damn it. I want the real Hannah Jessett. The one who tries to tell me what's good for me and how to run my business. The one who melts in my arms at night.”
“So far, it sounds as if you haven't changed one bit. You want an affair conducted on your terms. Well, I've got other plans for the summer. When you can tell me what I'll get out of it besides free use of your pool for the rest of the season, maybe I'll consider the offer.” She turned and headed for the hall, intent on getting under a hot shower. Her body felt sticky and sweaty and she knew she carried the scent of him on her.
“Hannah.” He was on his feet behind her, not bothering with his clothing. Gideon caught her before she reached the bathroom. His hands came down on her shoulders, spinning her around. “I don't know what it is you want from me, but I'll try to give it to you within reason. Give me a chance, honey. You don't have to turn yourself into an Amazon to feel safe with me.”
She shivered from the almost overwhelming desire to surrender. It would be so simple, so inviting, to just throw herself into his arms and allow herself to be swept away for the summer. The necklace suddenly seemed very warm and heavy against her skin. Unconsciously she touched it and remembered all that it had stood for in the past. Her life was changing this summer. If she didn't find out what lay along the new paths she was exploring she would always wonder what she had denied herself. Gideon's eyes followed the movement of her fingers to her throat. She saw the glittering dislike in his gaze.
“I need time, Gideon.”
“How much time?” he demanded.
“I don't know. I want to do some thinking. I can't seem to think very clearly when you're around.”
“If I leave you alone you'll go straight back to those damn journals and papers. You'll start thinking again about whatever it is you're trying to prove to yourself and Vicky Armitage.”
“So? As soon as you're alone you'll start thinking about the war you're conducting with Hugh Ballantine. I'm not going to be hustled into something I'm not at all sure I want, Gideon. You've already hustled me enough. I agree with Ballantine. You're tricky. You might not lie to me, but you're quite capable of trying to manipulate me. Manipulating people is second nature to you.”
“I am not trying to manipulate you, damn it.”
“Gideon, you're so good at it that you don't even know when you're doing it.” Wearily she turned away. He released her reluctantly but the aggressive tension in him filled the hall.
“Hannah, come with me to Tucson. We'll spend the summer working it out.”
She halted at the odd combination of raw appeal and arrogant command in his voice. He sounded almost as torn as she felt. She wanted to give him what he wanted. But she could also see a hazy future that promised personal security and power on a scale she'd never before known. All she had to do was reach out and grab it. One thing was clear to her in that moment. She couldn't have both Gideon and that as yet uncharted future. Hannah braced one hand on the door jamb but she didn't turn to face him.
“I have to think, Gideon. I need time.” Without waiting for his response she went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
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G
IDEON LEFT
on an early morning plane for Tucson. Hannah took him to the airport and saw him off in near silence. He had spent the night on her sofa, alone. That morning he had been as silent as she, as if he knew there was nothing else to be said. In the departure lounge he suddenly hauled her close and kissed her hungrily.
“I'll give you a little time, Hannah, but not much.”
“Why are you so impatient, Gideon? Because you're not accustomed to a woman having doubts? She's supposed to leap at the chance of having an affair with you?”
“I'm impatient because I'm scared of losing you. That should be simple enough for you to understand. Goodbye, Hannah.”
She watched at the lounge window until the jet lifted into the sky and then slowly turned and made her way out of the airport. Interstate 5 was crowded on the trip back into the city. The congestion made her uncomfortable. She seemed overly conscious of the small spaces between the Toyota and the rest of the cars around it. Alertness on the freeway was one thing: paranoid nervousness was another. She had been regaining her self-confidence in driving, Hannah thought, but there were times when she seemed to be having a relapse. When she happened to glance to the side while driving over an interchange she felt a moment of queasiness. It was a long way down if one went through the guardrail.
Deliberately she pulled her imagination back from the brink and concentrated on watching for the proper exit as the downtown highrise buildings came into view. After a moment or two she had herself back under control.
When she reached the street where her apartment building was located she parked the Toyota with a sense of relief, the same relief she always experienced these days after finishing a trip in the car. Then she made her way up the stairs, trying to take satisfaction from the fact that she hardly needed the cane at all.
The apartment seemed very empty. Hannah locked the door behind her and set down the cane. For a few minutes she stood gazing out the window. Gideon was gone again.
This time she could have gone with him. The choice had been hers. Hannah didn't doubt that he wanted her with him for the summer. But, then, she hadn't doubted that he had wanted her on Santa Inez.
Elizabeth Nord's journal still lay on the desk. Slowly Hannah wandered over and sat down in front of it. Somehow, she felt certain, the answers all lay within the old, leather-bound volume. Somewhere in this book was the key she needed to make the choices that lay ahead of her.
Going with Gideon would have foreclosed on some of those choices. Hannah knew that with a sure instinct. She would not be free to choose while he was around. Gideon would fill up too much of her life, demand too much of her attention, and force her to concentrate too much on him. Nord had been right to refuse “Dear Roddy's” proposal of marriage. Whoever Roddy was, he would have trapped her and used her. Gideon wouldn't use Hannah in the same way, but he would use her, nevertheless.
Hannah looked down at an entry dated early in the year of 1942.
The war is coming close. I know I shall have to leave soon. But I desperately need more time here. I am beginning to worry about some discrepancies, which are occurring in the information my informants are giving me. They're relatively minor and probably aren't significant, but they are starting to become a concern. Why does Laneoloa give me one explanation for tasting the menstrual blood of a new cult initiate while Kanaea provides a different reason? Also, I'm beginning to doubt the emphasis on lesbianism among the group's members. When I expressed great interest in it at the beginning of my studies, my informants gave me a tremendous amount of detailed information about the female sexual rites practiced during certain ceremonies. Yet I saw no indication of such sexual practices during the ceremony last night. I don't understand why certain details are not coinciding properly.
The next entry was dated three days later. It read:
The islanders have decided to abandon the village and the island. I have explained to the women that there is every possibility the Japanese will be landing soon. Preparations are being made tonight to hide the sacred vessel. My informants have told me that it must not leave the island, and in this the men seem in agreement. I have recommended that it not be hidden in the village as there is too much likelihood of looting. Tonight, during a special ceremony, a location will be chosen. Damn this war. There is so much to be learned here on Revelation and I am so afraid that afterward all will be changed. Men and their idiotic notions of settling conflicts. What have they done to us this time?
The next entry was written hastily and dated a few days later:
I am on a ship headed for Hawaii. The islanders have gone their own way and I hope they will be safe. The navy has provided me with transport. I am told the Japanese took Revelation Island this morning. A few minutes ago a young man who looks as though he has already seen too much war approached me. It seems that military intelligence would like a firsthand report of the terrain on Revelation. Their information is sketchy and comes from old atlases. I suppose this means that an attempt will be made to take Revelation back from the Japanese. I cannot bear to think of the slaughter that must ensue. My poor island will be bathed in blood. I will tell this young man who already has so much age in his eyes what I can. I fear it will not do much to lessen the carnage.
Hannah stared at the page in front of her, imagining her aunt's feelings as she had sat jotting the notes in her journal. Elizabeth Nord had known even then that nothing would ever be the same on Revelation Island. All the data she would ever have for writing
The Amazons of Revelation Island
was in her hands at that point. A small, unique culture would be lost to the world from that moment on, recalled only in the text of
Amazons
.
There were further notes, mostly hurried observations and a few last-minute recollections that Nord had obviously wanted to get down on paper before she forgot them. Hannah read them quickly, looking for the time when Nord had decided to write the book. When she found it several pages later, Hannah slowed her reading once more.
I have been going through the elaborate notes I made regarding the initiation ceremony. There is no longer any doubt in my mind about the discrepancies. At least two of my informants have given me differing explanations of the portion of the ritual in which the young girls are initiated into the cult. Is it possible they have lied to me?
Hannah skipped ahead a few paragraphs and found another notation of a discrepancy in the explanations of Nord's female informants. It was a small point having to do with a matter of dress but it was clear that it had bothered Nord.
There is so much information to be considered. I suppose it is not at all strange that I have gotten a few things mixed up, but it is so unlike me to make a mistake of this kind. Yet why would my informants deliberately mislead me?
Time slipped past in the journals as Nord made the decision to write her book and began putting the extensive data into order. “I have come across a particularly valuable reference,” she wrote late in 1942.
It is a missionary's journal from the last century and contains some notes on the people of Revelation Island. I am ecstatic over the discovery. Perhaps I will find information that will help substantiate some of my own findings. There may also be some details that will help me clear up some of the curious discrepancies I have noted recently.
The next entry was of a different nature:
Roddy stopped by to see me this afternoon. He has changed little during the past few months. He has made it plain that he thinks I made an error in turning down his proposal of marriage. I, on the other hand, have never been so glad of a decision in my life. He is also convinced I have wasted my time on Revelation Island.
In an entry dated the following day Hannah could almost feel the concern underlying the sentences.
I have been through the missionary's journal and have found it most upsetting. The Reverend Helmsley also noted some odd discrepancies in the explanations given to him by the Revelation Islanders. His informants were all male, of course, but he speaks of his wife having made contact with some of the women and of their accounts differing markedly. I have begun to realize that because I was a woman, I did not communicate well with the men of the island. I relied heavily on the women for information. A pattern is emerging here and it makes me uneasy.