High Tide at Noon (27 page)

They came over the rise between two steep coves, caught in the dreamlike silence. Joanna, hearing their quiet feet on the short grass, feeling Alec's arm snug around her waist, and the soft touch of the night wind on her face, thought: This isn't the path I followed this morning, looking for strawberries. It's as if some magic thing happens after sundown, and then nothing is the same. . . .

“Smell the blackberry blossoms,” she said dreamily, as the fragrance drifted in the air, intensified by night and dew.

“Look at them,” Alec said. “White flowers in the moonlight.” They stopped and looked down at the little gleaming stars that held a treasure of sweetness. On an impulse Joanna dropped to her knees in the grass and put her face close against the blossoms; they were cool and wet on her cheek, and the deep breath she drew was pure delight.

She sat back on her heels and smiled up at Alec. “I always wanted to do that. Did I look silly?”

“You look beautiful.” Very tall he was against the moon-washed sky, before he bent and broke off a cluster and tucked it behind her ear. He cupped her chin in his hand and said gently, “My darling,” before he kissed her.

The next day, when she saw him lounging across the beach, thin and lanky in his dungarees and rubber boots; when he came to the house and wrestled on the grass with Mark and Stevie—whenever she saw him as he moved among the Islanders, she felt her heart quicken. For this was the Alec they all knew and liked, but she knew a different one, and it was a secret thought, her knowledge of an Alec who tucked white flowers behind her ear and called her
darling
. It was with this Alec that she shared a dream, a world where no one else could ever come.

Just to think about it brought a lovely color to her face. She didn't need rouge or lipstick. Her mother and Kristi, who would be up here at any minute, were both pale today. It wasn't strange for Donna. And Kristi was pale from excitement and misery at once. She wanted to marry young Peter Gray, and Gunnar wouldn't even let Peter take her to dances. From the rainbow peaks of her own happiness, Joanna knew a deep pity for Kristi and Peter, but she couldn't think of it now. Not while the people of Bennett's Island were gathering downstairs to see her married, and the Island itself was so beautiful that it shook her heart.

For me, Joanna thought, standing before the mirror. Her red mouth shaped the words.
For me
. It was as if the Island knew, and had brushed its tawny fields with gold, and deepened the blue of its coves, and touched with flame the little vines and shrubs at the edge of the dark woods.

She heard voices at the foot of the stairs. They'd be coming soon. These few voices were almost the last she would know as Joanna Bennett. She touched her full lower lip with her finger. Yes, it had healed, though for a long time it had bled whenever Alec kissed her hard. He'd told her amiably, without asking what had happened to it, that it had better heal before October.

Simon Bird must know by now that she was out of his reach forever. He would be downstairs in the sitting room at this very moment; every one on the Island, old Johnny and Nathan, the Trudeaus, the Birds, had been invited to the wedding. So Stephen's father had always done; so Stephen would always do, and his sons after him.

Joanna herself had gone down to the Eastern End to ask Charles to come. He'd been knitting trapheads in the kitchen, and it had been a relief to see that he was as dean-shaven and neat as ever, his shirt just as white. Charles always wanted to wear white shirts for everything. The kitchen was very dean, and painted in warm light colors, and Charles had bought a new stove, and a vivid linoleum for the floor. There were starched curtains at the windows, and Mateel looked happy and no longer terrified. Color flashed into her face when Joanna told them about the wedding.

But Charles had shaken his head. Mateel said quickly, “But Charles—“ and was silent. Later Charles walked up to the gate with Joanna.

“Charles, please come!” she pleaded. “We all want you—
all
of us. Don't be stuffy and narrow about it. It's my wedding, Charles, and I always planned on having all my brothers at my wedding.”

Charles' dark face was impassive. “Sorry, Jo. But we're better off down here in our own neck of the woods, with the baby coming, and all. Thanks just the same, Jo.”

“You damn stiff-necked Bennett!” she raged at him, but she could have cried as she walked home through the woods.

Her parents came in, Kristi behind them with Joanna's white chrysanthemums and her own bronze and rose armful. “Hello,” Joanna said. “Where's Alec?”

“Gone out to haul a few to the south'ard,” said Stephen dryly.

Joanna laughed. “I wouldn't be surprised if he did go out to haul at the last minute. He's been working so hard since he got his traps out that it's a wonder he'd take time off for his wedding.”

“He's down there,” said Donna, “looking as calm as if he'd been married twenty times before.”

“Maybe he has, for all we know,” said Joanna tranquilly. Kristi looked shocked, and turned pink as the others laughed. Donna kissed Joanna lightly and went downstairs. In a moment Miss Hollis, at the cottage organ brought up from the schoolhouse, would begin the wedding march. Joanna stood very still at the head of the stairs, her hand on Stephen's arm; Kristi, on the step below, looked up at her with wet blue eyes and a tremulous mouth.

“Weddings always make me cry,” she said shakily.

“If you howl at mine,” said Joanna, “I'll pinch you. Honest, Kristi!” Kristi smiled waveringly, and then, with only the faintest preliminary wheeze, the organ began to play.

It seemed only an instant before they were in the big sitting room. It was crowded now. Young Julian Yetton's nose was running, Joanna noticed, and Rachel was spotty; she saw Nils standing back against a window, serious and scrubbed-looking in his dark blue suit. Nils, you wanted it to be you, she thought swiftly in that instant. But you'll marry some day, and she'll be a lucky girl, whoever she is.

Funny, the way some faces stood out so clearly before her eyes. She had one glimpse of Simon Bird. His color is very bad, she thought, and then she saw Alec.

He was standing by the fireplace, the mantel behind him garlanded in juniper and bittersweet. Mr. Guthrie, the minister from Brigport, was there too, the late sunlight shining on his glasses. Owen was beside Alec, darkly handsome, and nervous in spite of his stillness. But Alec wasn't nervous, Joanna thought with an inward chuckle, and neither was she. Of all these people, she and Alec were the most at ease.

He was waiting for her; he had that waiting look in his eyes and in the tilt of his head. Their glances met across the little space left between them, and they smiled. Her heart began to beat faster, her fingers tightened on Stephen's arm.

Why, I'm going to be
married!
she thought all at once, as if it were a new and tremendous thought. We're not just going out for a walk to Sou-west Point, we're going to live together for always.

She wanted to run the last few steps. But somehow she walked them, and the music was stopping, and at last, as if she had been journeying toward him for all her life, she reached his side.

I
N THE COOL BLUE OCTOBER DUSK
Joanna and Alec came alone to their house. It stood apart from the rest of the Island, as aloof in its way as the Bennett house was; backed by the steep dark hillside, cut off from the Bennett meadow by the woods and the orchard, with its field running down to a narrow rocky cove to the west, and stretching down to the village in front, it held a true feeling of solitude for Joanna as they went up the steps to the porch.

The door was unlocked. Alec opened it, and swung Joanna into his arms to carry her into the kitchen. He kissed her, and for a long moment their lips clung before he put her down.

“I can't believe it,” she said.

“Believe what?”

“That we're alone . . . and when we take walks and go sailing we'll come home together. Not you up here, and me across the meadow.”

He ran his lips across her cheek. “It's you and me, and the whole world before us. I'll light a lamp, huh?” He was gone for a moment, then she heard the sharp crack of a match, and light grew in the kitchen. They looked at each other by lamplight, and then at the room.

“It looks good,” Joanna said with pride. She had made the curtains, Alec had done the painting and laid the linoleum; together they had done the papering. They had worked on the house all summer, when Alec wasn't fishing, or worklng on his traps. A great many people had helped them. Nils had rebuilt the very door through which Alec had carried his wife tonight.

They left the lighted lamp on the table and wandered through the other rooms in the dark. The front room was no longer Alec's sleeping quarters now, but a real sitting room, with bookshelves and pictures. Alec dropped into his new easy chair and pulled her down onto his knees.

“This is where we'll sit and listen to the radio,” he said contentedly. “In Pappa's chair. I see where Momma's chair isn't going to get much use.”

Joanna chuckled against his shoulder. Alec was all hers, and forever . . . all the world before us, he'd said. It was such a vast prospect that she couldn't take it in all at once. You will, Joanna, she assured herself. Little by little you'll know it's not really a dream, that you're married to the man. You'll wake up in the morning—

She pressed closer to Alec. Will I be as happy as this tomorrow morning? she wondered. But then she knew that she would be happy. The gods that Alec was always talking about had blessed them from the start; they would always be blessed.

She lifted her head and kissed Alec on the mouth, and felt his hand warm on her breast. The dusk crept around them, and the silence was immense. Even the sea was quiet.

“Isn't it
still!
” she whispered.

He answered against her lips, “But not for long. What about the serenade?”

She sat bolt upright and stared at him through the dimness. “Are they serenading us, Alec?”

“You didn't hope to get married without it, did you? Well, they kept it pretty quiet, but your two kid brothers gave it away.”

“And I thought they weren't going to have a shivaree—usually somebody lets you know ahead of time. I haven't got anything to give them!”

“Did you think they'd let a Bennett get married without all the works? Come here and calm down, wench. Cigars, coffee, pop, stuff for sandwiches—the cupboard is full.”

“Alec, you're wonderful!” She buried her face in his shoulder. The gentle pressure of his lips on her neck sent a sharp thrill across her skin. She lifted her face then, and they clung together in the warm, gathering darkness.

Wrapped in their deepening mood, intoxicated with their entrance into their new and personal world, they didn't hear the knock on the door until it turned into a persistent hammering.

“They'll go away in a minute,” Alec muttered against Joanna's cheek. She lay against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed, her head heavy; she didn't want to move, ever. She only wanted to lie here with Alec in the warm dark, and hear his soft whispers, and know the joy of his touch.

But the hammering didn't stop, it grew louder, until at last the kitchen door opened and Mark shouted lustily through the house, “Anybody home?”

“That devil!” whispered Joanna, suddenly possessed with a fierce desire to murder her younger brother. “He only came up here for mischief. Don't go, Alec! Maybe Owen put him up to it.”

They were very still, listening to Mark's feet in the kitchen. “Hey, this isn't a joke!” he hailed the silence. “D'you take me for a damn fool?”

“I'd better go,” Alec said. He went out to the kitchen and Joanna followed him, smoothing her hair and wondering why she had ever been so generous as to have her wedding in Teachers' Convention Week, so that Mark and Stevie could come home from school.

Mark greeted them with extraordinary excitement. “Charles just came up to the house!”

“
Charles?
Really?” said Joanna happily.

“Yep. But it's nothing to crow about. He wants Mother to go down to the Eastern End with him—he thinks Mateel is going to die. It's the baby, I guess. She fell downstairs right about supper time.” Mark's eyes were wide. “Charles looks like hell. He's some scared.”

“I should think so.” Joanna felt cold and wide-awake now. “Did Mother go?”

“Yep. She says it might not be as bad as Charles thinks, and then again it may be bad. Well—” For the first time Mark looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, I'll be going. Didn't mean to barge in on you fellas.”

“That's all right,” said Alec. “We were listening to the radio.”

Mark stared. “You haven't got one yet!”

“Well, if we had a radio we'd be listening to it,” Joanna explained gently. Mark went out, and Joanna and Alec looked at each other.

“The next thing is the serenade,” said Alec.

“Alec, what if Mateel's really dying?” Her fatally vivid imagination could see it all; a wedding, a birth, and a death in twenty-four hours. Charles left with a tiny baby, and the leaves from the big maple drifting down on a new grave. She shivered, and Alec put his arm around her.

“Mateel's as tough as they come.”

“But a fall—and a baby. That's dangerous, Alec. And Mother's not strong enough to walk all that distance and then look after Mateel.” Alec's arms couldn't warm her. Even her own joy wasn't enough to shut out the memory of Mateel's big frightened eyes and her twisting hands.

“Joanna.” Alec said it very quietly. “Listen, dear, if it would make you feel any better to walk down there and see for yourself, we'll go.”

“Alec, do you mind if we go?” she asked eagerly. “We only have to walk down and back. You married a worrier, Alec.” She put her arms around him under his suit coat and hugged him hard. “I've got to fat you up, Alexander Charles-Edward Douglass. I put in a big order at Uncle Nate's for milk and cream.” She tilted her head and looked up at him through her lashes. Her tongue was suddenly shy, trying to shape the words she had never said before, though she knew the truth of them.