Vineyard Deceit (29 page)

“Shucks,” said the receptionist. “Now I have to go home to Homer and the kids. Maybe next time you'll ask me first?”

“Sure. You might try getting Homer to fix your cauliflower for you.”

“Homer's idea of a sophisticated meal is a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. I don't think he knows how to boil water.”

“See you in a bit,” I said to Zee. I gave her a big smile.
She lifted her chin and walked away. She had wonderful legs. I watched them go around a corner and out of sight, then raised my eyebrows at the receptionist. She gave me a friendly look. I went out to the LandCruiser. So far, so good.

25

I put two glasses in the freezer beside the bottle of Absolut and got ready to fry up the cauliflower. Oil in the wok, some milk in one bowl, some flour in another. Not too much later, Zee's Jeep came down my long driveway, stopped, and produced its driver.

The first thing she said was, “Did she have to wear my clothes?”

“Yes.” I puckered hopefully, and she reluctantly allowed her cheek to be kissed.

I handed her an icy glass of vodka. “Sit. Admire the view.” I escorted her to my best white lawn chair, salvaged from the Big D, repainted, and as good as new. Archie Bunker's chair was next on the repair list. “I shall return,” I said.

The only people who don't like fried cauliflower are the kind you really shouldn't hang around with anyway since sooner or later they'll corrupt whatever good taste you have in other areas of your life as well. Like a lot of excellent recipes, the one for fried cauliflower is simple: get your oil hot, dip your cauliflower in the milk, then the flour, shake off the excess flour, and drop the cauliflower into the oil. As soon as it's golden brown, take the cauliflower out, drain it, lightly salt it, and
eat
it! None of it ever goes to waste at my house. I made up a plateful and took it out to Zee.

She sniffed the aroma. She looked at the plate.

“If madam is not pleased, the chef will be charmed to commit suicide in a manner of madam's choosing.”

“Madam is not pleased yet.”

“Then it will be my pleasure to begin the suicide immediately after I have had a final meal of this most excellent vegetable.” I went back inside and cooked a plate for myself, then returned, plate in one hand, vodka glass in the other. Zee's plate was half empty. I wasn't surprised. A small nurse can eat a large horse at the end of a working day.

“You can delay the suicide for the time being,” she said, munching.

“Madam is too kind.”

“Well,” she said as I sat down. “Let's have it.”

I told her the truth about my adventures with Helga. By the time I was done, her cauliflower was gone and she was eating mine. I got up and went inside and cooked up what was left. I brought it out with the Absolut bottle.

I poured. We sat and looked out over the pond to the Sound. Sailboats, white against the darkening water, were trying to catch a whiff of evening wind to take them into harbor. Along the spit of sand separating the Sound from the pond, the parked cars were thinning out as the August people reluctantly abandoned the beach.

“All right,” said Zee. “You were right. There was an explanation. But it felt funny seeing another woman in my pants.”

“No one can fill your pants but you, dear,” I said.

“Thanks a lot.”

“I think you should stay with your Aunt Amelia for a couple of days. You have the weekend off, and I'd like to do some fishing. Maybe we could go up to Lobsterville and try for weakfish.”

“My gear's at home. Are you protecting me again?”

“You'd both have a good time visiting. You can tell her all there is to know about being kidnapped.”

“I've talked to her on the phone and told her everything about that. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I didn't like it. I hated being tied up. I think it's made me claustrophobic.” She suddenly shivered in the warm evening air.

I felt a shaft of pain in my soul. I wanted to hold her so tightly that she would lose all of her fear. But before I could move she seemed to reach inside of herself and find some of that secret, unsuspected strength that women discover when they must have it, the strength that takes them through the deaths of parents, sisters, lovers, children, through the sicknesses and betrayals and cruelties of life, and allows them to endure and even find joy when many men, equally afflicted, would either go mad or turn to stone or die.

She sat up straight. “But I think it's also made me a better nurse,” she said. “Now I understand better what it's like to be totally helpless, like some of my patients. I thought I understood before, but now, having had no arms or legs or eyes for all that time and never knowing if I'd ever have them again, I understand better. Having someone take me to the bathroom, having someone feed me, never hearing a voice, all that . . . was for the good. I should probably be grateful. I hated it, but I should probably be grateful.”

I didn't think I would be, in her place. I thought that the hate and fear would be all I could get out of it.

“I don't want you alone for the next three days,” I said. “On Monday the Padishah and his gang are headed for home. After that I don't think we'll have to worry about what the guy on the phone said.”

“You really think somebody will try to hurt us?”

“I don't know. The Padishah has a bad reputation at home. People he doesn't like end up dead. I just don't want you to be alone this weekend.”

“Don't worry so much about me.”

“Tell the sun not to shine.”

“I'll be very careful.”

“We've been through this before. You don't know who's coming after you, so you might not know he's there until . . .”

“Until it's too late? After surviving being tied up for three days, I don't feel very afraid of the Padishah.”

“Nagy's the one to be afraid of, not the Padishah.”

“Well, let's ask the Chief to keep an eye on Nagy, then. He can have a man keep an eye on him over the weekend. No Nagy, no trouble. Simple. I can go home, and you can stop worrying.”

“Except for one thing.” I told her about Wapple and his request from the White House. “Everyone's cooperating,” I said. “Everyone's being very discreet. Everyone's agreed not to ruffle the Padishah's feathers. Orders from headquarters. I doubt if the Chief will see fit to put a man on the Padishah's personal bodyguard.”

Zee looked out into the evening. On the Sound a bit of wind from the southwest had answered the sailors' whistles, and the white boats were leaning toward Edgartown. “Maybe you're right,” she said. “I know you. If I go home, you'll probably camp in my driveway with one of your dad's old shotguns.” She looked at me. “Won't you?”

“It would be best if you went to Amelia's. You'd be safe there.”

“I think I'd rather stay here.”

Surprise and a rush of desire stopped my speech. I took a sip of icy vodka and willed my brain to control my hormones. “It would be better if you'd stay with Amelia.”

“You're a real flatterer. I make you an offer you can't refuse and you say no. I must be losing my touch.” She looked at my face, saw something there, and nodded. “Ah, I get it. If he comes here after you, you don't want me under your feet.”

“He's not coming here,” I said as convincingly as I could.

“Then I'll stay. You can be manly, and I'll be right here for you to protect. Or vice versa, as the case may be.” She got to her feet. “Home first for fishing gear, then back in a flash.” She came over to me. She was like a dark sun shining. “If we get to sleep soon enough, we can be at Lobsterville at daylight. What do you think of that plan?”

I got up from my chair. The top of her head came just to my chin. She put her arms around my neck, tipped her face up, and pulled my lips down to hers. Our kiss was long, and when it ended we were breathless. She laid her head against my chest. “Maybe I don't have to go home,” she said. “We can stop by my place in the morning and pick up my gear on our way.”

My brain was no longer in the fight. I couldn't think of a single argument against her revised plan. My eyes discovered the vodka bottle on the table. “You're Absolut-ly right,” I said. I picked her up in my arms and walked into the house.

There was no best time to make love with Zee. Every time was the best time there ever was. In the fading evening light I carried her to my bedroom and stood her on her feet. She put her hands to her head, and the dark hair that had been pinned up for her day of nursing came tumbling down, thick and blue-black over the white collar of her uniform. A flock of goats moving down the slopes of Gilead. I put out my own big hands and unbuttoned her blouse. Her skin was tanned and smooth. Her lips were like a scarlet thread and her mouth was lovely. She dropped the uniform on the floor. I touched her throat. Her breasts were firm and sleek. Like two fawns that feed among the lilies.

My own clothes were off, and she came smiling and naked and pressed herself against me, arms around my waist. Such sweetness. She was all fair, my love; there was no flaw in her. We lay on the bed, and that long hair flowed over me like liquid night. She ravished my heart
with a glance of her eyes. Love sweeter than wine, lips like nectar, love like a well of living water from which we drank until we could drink no more.

Afterwards Zee poked a finger into the little depression that contains my belly button and smiled a lazy smile. She put the finger into my mouth. “Taste that.”

“Salty.”

“Sweat. You have a little puddle of it in the middle of your belly. Maybe you haven't been getting enough exercise lately.”

“I have no one to blame but you. Besides, you're a little slithery yourself.”

“You're quite right. Time for a shower. Come on.”

We got off the tumbled, sweaty sheets, found beach towels, and went out into the night and showered together under the stars.

Then we went back inside and went to bed. Zee curled herself against me and was asleep in minutes, her arm around my waist, her knees tucked up against the back of mine, her skin smooth and warm against my own. I lay awake and thought about Colonel Nagy, Jake Spitz, and the stolen necklace. I listened to the night wind in the trees and to the rustle of nocturnal creatures moving through the leaves under the oak brush. Everything sounded normal, and finally I too went to sleep.

At five we were at her house in West Tisbury. While she collected her fishing gear and put her rod on the roof rack, I wandered through and around the house and found no sign of anyone having tried to enter. An hour later, on the Lobsterville beach near the only parking spot that Gay Head's xenophobic citizens allowed along the road, I landed a nice weakfish just after Zee lost one she almost had in.

“I'm refraining from saying that fishing is really a man's game,” I said. “I hope you appreciate that.”

“Oh, of course. It's a real pleasure to fish with one of the few males who's totally free of sexist inclinations.” She
made her cast. I watched the lure arc out and splash into the water. It was a lovely cast.

“We're a rare and vulnerable minority,” I said, “but there are some of us around. Say, do you want me to show you how to do that right?”

We fished until an hour after the sun came up over the Chilmark Hills and the water began to dance with light. Before we decided it was time for breakfast, we had nailed four fish, two each.

“Tell you what,” said Zee. “We'll go to my place and you can cook one of these guys up for breakfast along with some eggs and toast and coffee. I'll pour the orange juice. And afterwards you can wash up while I read the paper. What do you say?”

“Suits me. You can fillet the other fish while I'm cooking.”

“That's man's work,” she said.

“I don't think you've got this role stuff down, yet. I'm Nimrod, the mighty hunter, and you're Vesta, goddess of the hearth. I bring home the bacon and you cook it up in a pan and never let me forget I'm a man. God, I love that song!”