She knew I was standing there and after a moment looked up with a practiced smile, said, “Ah, Mr. Jundson. Did you want to see me about something? Would you like to hear some of my latest records, or perhaps you care for an orangeade?”
The words were practiced too, and I said, “Or, tennis anyone?”
A puzzled look ran across her face. “Tennis?”
“A kind of joke, a poor one. Look, Ruita we're sailing in a few hours and—”
“I trust our accounts are clear. My mother usually handles the business end.”
There wasn't anything more to say, except goodbye. Ruita walked out of the room. I followed—we were in her bed room, simple furniture made of palm trunk wood. “Will you ever return to Numaga, Mr. Jundson?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I? I merely asked because Mother might keep some copra for you and—”
I grabbed her, turned her gently around. “Ruita, let's stop this kid talk. I'm really sorry about last night. It had nothing to do with you. You know how I feel about you.”
She pushed my hands from her shoulders.
“I love you,” I said.
“Do you, Ray, or is love merely a handy word?”
“No one really knows what love is, but as much as I understand it, I love you ...” I glanced past her face, saw the little perfume bottles on her dresser. “Do you like perfumes?”
Ruita gasped. Turning away from me, she asked fiercely, “Are we back to polite talk again, Mr. Jundson?”
“No, no. That is—perfumes were important in my... wife's life. I used to give her silly little bottles every payday.”
“They're not important in mine! We islanders bathe many times a day, have no need for covering dirt and odors! I never used these, bought them long ago in Sydney—a whim.”
“Milly never used hers for another reason. She didn't want the odor to remain in her ... lover's bed. His wife might have found out. It's a cute little yarn, all the way.”
“But if you've left her, never cared for her, then—why last night, Ray?”
“She had nothing to do with that I'm afraid to try living with you. I'm afraid I'll mess it up, make us both unhappy.”
She stood there, trying to figure it out. “Are you afraid because of our difference in color or—?”
“No, it isn't anything as stupid as that. It's—well, I love you so much I can't risk making you unhappy.”
“We could only bring joy to each other.”
I shook my head. “I wish I was sure of that, Ruita. I know myself and ... I can't explain it, it's mixed up in my mind. All I know is I can't chance hurting you.”
“Don't you think last night—now—hurts?”
“A tiny hurt compared to what messed-up lives can be. All I can tell you is that I'll try my best to come back to you.”
I reached over to kiss her and she slapped me hard across my face.
“Yes, Mr. Jundson, you'll try to come back to your native girl for a little fun. You'll expect her to be waiting!”
I grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. She began to cry. I held her close and kissed her. Her lips didn't respond. “Darling,” I whispered into her ear, “with us it has to be everything, all down the line or a bust-up. And if we messed up I'm not sure I could stand it, or that you could.”
She suddenly kissed me as hard as she could, her arms going around me like iron, her whole body alive and pressing. When I started to kiss her back, she pushed me away and said coldly, “Any time you return to Numaga, Mr. Jundson, we shall have copra waiting for you.”
She walked out of the room slowly and I stood there for a moment, then realized it was a little play to save face and I didn't blame her. I ran down to the beach.
It took us some time to make the Hooker ready, mainly because every time we were about to pull up anchor, some joker would come rushing out in his canoe with a request to deliver a note to his cousin or somebody in Papeete, or to see about buying this and that for him—although we hadn't said we'd return and this was the first visit we'd made to Numaga.
I was hoping Ruita would come down to see us off but she didn't. Some people paddled out to bring us a gift of coconut crabs which we tied to the rigging to keep fresh, and we kept horsing around so long I thought we'd miss the tide. I checked the bilge for gas fumes, got our old converted Buick motor working and then turned it off. “We've lost the tide,” I said.
“Naw, plenty of water. Get her going,” Eddie said as he pulled up anchor and took the wheel. We went over the reef, an angry rusty red beneath the surging water, without bumping the keel.
We hauled up the sails and the wind was good. I shut off the motor and let Eddie take the first watch since we were in an area of crazy currents. We didn't have any one method of standing watch. We were reasonable about it; each stood watch as long as he felt like it, then awoke the other. When we were a day or more away from any known islands or reefs, running before the steady trade winds, we'd lash the helm down and let the boat run herself.
Now as I sat atop the cabin and watched Ruita's island become a cloud on the horizon behind us, I felt proud of our boat. I'd really been lucky getting the cutter; she was a fine sea boat—forty-two feet over-all and thirty-two feet on the waterline, gaff-rigged, with a long pole bowsprit you rarely see these days. In fact, you rarely see a cutter like mine.
The Pacific was choppy and whenever we dipped into a gully of waves and lost some wind for a split second, the copra stench was sickening. We had a good boat, if a smelly one, probably never would luck up on any real money, yet for some unknown reason I wanted to be a seagoing bum rather than settle down with Ruita.
As Numaga disappeared on the horizon I tried to find the reason, but couldn't think of one that made sense. Eddie and I didn't have a bad life, nor a wonderfully good one; rather it was a painless way of passing time.
Still, living with Ruita would be just as carefree, and in many delightful ways even more so. Yet, while I was sure I could take life as a small-time trader, I was afraid to stick myself on some isolated island, even with a Ruita. Or was the real reason the fact that I was frightened of a second failure in marriage? Or was it that marrying Ruita would mean I'd stay in the islands forever? I kept telling myself I wanted to remain here for the rest of my days, but did I really?
Eddie leaned over the wheel and yawned, said, “Sure can't figure you and Ruita. A gal with everything—looks...”
“Why don't you shut up!”
He shrugged and we were on a silent kick for the rest of the day and most of the following morning.
Two days later when we were within sight of Tahiti, or rather the jagged outline of Moorea, Eddie opened the hold and, screwing up his tan face at the stench, removed a fifty-pound bag of copra. “This bag we hide—for drinking and movie money.”