Hemingway's Girl (31 page)

“I’m about at my limit,” said Mariella, her voice lighter than she felt. “He takes
up a lot of space.”

John chuckled and nodded his head.

“Where’s Ada?” asked Mariella.

“She passed out a while ago,” said Katy.

“We sent Pauline to bed and told her we’d watch the boys,” said Dos. “The little ones
drove her crazy all day until you took them spearfishing.”

“It’s kind of you to look after them with all of the other chores you’ve got to do,”
said Katy.

“I don’t consider it a chore to play with the boys,” said Mariella. “It’s nice to
have them around. I miss my little sisters.”

Mariella missed them terribly—more than she ever would
have anticipated. Papa’s boys’ voices, laughter, and play reminded her of Lulu and
Estelle, and Mariella couldn’t wait to see them again. She wished she could have brought
them with her.

“Look! Look!” Patrick was suddenly yelling from the beach, calling for Mariella and
the Dos Passoses to join them. They jumped up and hurried down the stairs to the sand
to see what had excited him so much. The moon was bright and lit the beach, but it
took Mariella a moment for her eyes to adjust. She saw a lot of movement in the sand.

“Turtles!” shrieked Gregory.

They all crowded around to watch the little creatures digging out of a depression
in the sand and flopping around.

“Look—they’re heading to the water,” said Mariella. She picked up Greg so he wouldn’t
step on them, and carried him along as the turtles struggled over mounds in the sand
to get to the sea.

Bumby told Patrick to make the sand smooth so the turtles wouldn’t have to climb over
the “sand mountains.” Dos grabbed an oar and helped them smooth a runway to the surf,
while Katy helped the tiny stragglers and wanderers back to the path.

Greg put his arms around Mariella’s neck and his head on her shoulder. She could smell
the wind in his salty hair and feel his plump cheek nestled against her neck.

God, how she missed the girls.

She stood for a while, facing Key West, sending her thoughts to her family on the
night breezes. Then she turned back to the moonlit path, and the turtles, and her
company, and embraced the beauty and the gift of the moment.

All night she dreamed of Gavin.

They were good dreams. Dreams that made her blush. She thought of them all that morning
as she went about her chores,
and nearly ran into Pauline as she carried the beach towels in from the line. Pauline
frowned and regarded Mariella suspiciously, grounding her in the moment.

“Does everyone have to be out of sorts today?” asked Pauline.

“I’m sorry,” said Mariella. “I was daydreaming. Who else is out of sorts?”

Pauline moved the brassy hair out of her eyes and turned her gaze in the direction
of the dock.

“Papa’s been grumbling all morning about the
Pilar
,” she said. “I think he’s getting bored. He just challenged the local champ to a
boxing match.”

Mariella’s interest was piqued. Over the past few days, Papa had bet the locals that
none of them could go three three-minute rounds with him. He’d pay two hundred and
fifty dollars to the guy who could, and no one had beaten him yet. Mariella would
enjoy watching a match, and turned her face eagerly to the dock. When she looked back
at Pauline, however, she could see Pauline’s disapproval. Mariella wiped the eager
look off her face.

“Are you worried he’ll lose?” asked Mariella.

“Yes! His opponent can carry a piano on his back.”

Mariella gasped and raised her eyebrows.

“I can’t watch,” said Pauline. With that, she went to her room, slamming the door
behind her. Mariella could certainly watch. She hurried the towels to her room for
folding later and ran down to the dock. When she got there, she’d already missed the
fight. All she saw was an enormous island man laid out on the dock and a crowd around
Papa, cheering and slapping him on the back. When he noticed Mariella, he grinned
and walked over to her.

“That guy could carry a piano on his back,” he said.

“Impressive,” said Mariella.

“When’s your soldier coming?” asked Papa. “I’d like to knock him out.”

Mariella narrowed her eyes at Papa.

“My soldier never loses,” she said.

“I don’t, either, so it should be a hell of a match.”

Mariella ignored his remark and turned to leave. She was dying for Gavin to come over
and give Papa a taste of defeat. She still didn’t know whether he’d make it, and their
separation was killing her. Gavin hadn’t sent a telegram in weeks, and Mariella was
beginning to worry that he’d forgotten her.

Finally, the next afternoon, there was a knock at her door. When she opened it, one
of the cleaning staff of the hotel handed her a telegram. She quickly unfolded it,
and her hands shook as she read it.

First weekend in August. Love, Gavin.

Mariella whooped and jumped up and down in her room. She couldn’t believe the good
news.

She ran out her door and toward the dock, where she knew Papa was working on the
Pilar
, with every intention of teasing him about being scared for the boxing match. Breathless
and sweating by the time she reached him, Mariella was startled to see Papa outside
of the boat and gazing down the dock at the small plane that had just pulled in.

Jane Mason had arrived.

Mariella stood on the dock watching Jane in the center of the group of men. Her hair
stood out like a crown of red-gold in the midst of her brown suitors. She’d been out
fishing with them all day, and had killed a shark and hooked a tuna—an amazing feat,
since they hadn’t been biting thus far. To Mariella’s surprise, however, Papa wasn’t
among her attendants. He wasn’t hanging on her every word, and he even appeared put
out around her.

At the bar that night, after a few drinks, he seemed to warm up to Jane, much to Pauline’s
displeasure. Pauline maneuvered the seating so Papa was in the corner blocked by her,
but when she got up to go to the bathroom, Jane took her place. Mariella cringed when
Pauline returned to the bar.

“Oh, honey, is this your seat?” asked Jane.

“Take it,” said Pauline. “We were just getting ready to go to bed.”

Mariella raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t like Pauline to assert herself that way. Papa
laughed a little and pulled Pauline over to his lap.

“Let’s stay, Mama,” he said. “One more drink.”

Mariella exhaled her cigarette and shook her head. That was the wrong thing for him
to say.

Pauline pulled herself from his grasp and straightened her dress. “Let’s go.”

The bartender must have heard Papa’s suggestion for one more drink, because he appeared
with another overflowing glass and placed it in front of Papa at the bar.

“Look, see,” said Papa. “I can’t waste a perfectly full drink.” He picked up the drink
and sipped it.

Pauline left without a word, but she didn’t need to say anything. Her look said it
all.

Mariella stubbed out her cigarette and sat a few seats down from Papa and Jane. She
wasn’t quite ready to leave, either.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that,” said Jane.

“Nah, it’ll be fine,” he said.

Jane laughed and ordered a daiquiri.

“I enjoyed our hunt today, darling,” she said.

“Like the good old days,” he said.

“I wish you would have come on safari with us this year.”

He didn’t answer her. Mariella looked down the bar at him and saw that his face suddenly
turned very dark. Dangerously dark.

“Mr. Cooper’s a fine sportsman,” Jane continued.

Papa drained his glass and looked ahead. Mariella could feel the tension oozing out
of him. She wondered whether Jane could sense the change.

“Africa was such an adventure with him,
darling
, but you would have made it better.”

“I wouldn’t want to have been anywhere but here,” he said.

“Even not with me?” she asked.

“You had
Mr. Cooper
to entertain you,” he said through clenched teeth.

Jane grew quiet. She must have realized that he was angry. Mariella wondered who this
Mr. Cooper was, but it didn’t take a genius to understand that Papa was jealous.

“How’s your back these days?” he asked. “Keeping the windows closed around the house?”

Jane looked as if she’d been slapped. Mariella gasped.

God, he could be cruel.

Jane’s chair scraped against the floor and she walked out of the bar. He looked after
her and caught Mariella’s eyes in Jane’s wake. Mariella showed her disdain. He held
her gaze for a minute, his face as blank as white paper. She chastised him in her
mind and thought she could hear his thoughts justifying himself. Finally, he looked
away from her.

Mariella looked into her pack of cigarettes. Only one left. She’d smoked three on
the dock while waiting for Gavin’s plane. She searched the sky from every direction,
but couldn’t see a thing except high cirrus clouds in wisps over the deep blue of
the water. She paced up and down the dock a bit and finally lit the last one.

Great, dark forms glided under the surface of the water. She shivered, knowing the
sharks were only biding their time before nightfall, when they’d hunt. She saw smaller
fish leaping out of the waves and wished them luck outrunning the predators.

Then she heard the low buzz of the engine and the seaplane appeared.

She jumped up and down, waving like a madwoman. The local man waiting in the boat
to pick up Gavin laughed at her.

“That’s a good welcome,” he said.

She beamed and watched the plane land smoothly in the water. The man rowed out to
meet Gavin in the plane. She could see Gavin wave and she almost jumped into the water
to swim out to him. The boat brought him to the dock, and he threw his bag to the
pier, leaped onto it, and picked up Mariella, swinging her around and kissing her.

He held her face in his hands.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” he said. “I’d never have let you leave if I’d
realized.”

She laughed and kissed him again.

“I can tell you’re happy to see me, too, so I haven’t lost you to him,” said Gavin.

Mariella rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said. “I’m more yours than ever before.”

“Then it sounds like my prayers were answered,” he said. He picked up his bag, and
they started down the dock, hand in hand.