A Gentle Fragrance Page 3

  Josiah nodded. “God’s called you, Bill. You can’t escape Him, though you’ve tried. He saved your life and has chosen you. You’re the one holding back, but from your avid questions lately, I don’t think it will be much longer until you reach the place of acceptance in Christ.”

  Bill swung around. “You don’t get it—I killed a man. Several men.”

  Josiah calmly regarded Bill as if he’d just told him he’d swatted a fly.

  “Don’t you understand?” Bill swung his hands out to the sides. “I’m not worth the trouble.”

  “Whatever sins lay in your past, God has knowledge of every one of them. Still, He desires you to come to Him, just as He called Saul and gave him a new name and a new mission. He brought you to this island, carried on the back of a dolphin, to recover in a missionary’s hut. Do you not see the irony of that?” He chuckled, but Bill didn’t feel like laughing. “Would it ease your mind to talk of it?”

  Bill closed his eyes. He’d pushed the killings to a far corner of his mind, hoping the memory would rot and disintegrate there. But bad memories never died. “It was either be gunned down or pull the trigger. When someone points a gun at your heart, you don’t ask questions.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?” Bill turned on him. “How can you? Have you ever killed a man in cold blood? Watched as the life seeped from him, as his eyes filled with fear? As he reached up as though begging you somehow to save him, to turn back time—when only seconds before he was the enemy?” He clutched handfuls of his hair. Tore at it while stalking away.

  “Yes.”

  The word came so soft at first Bill didn’t think he’d heard correctly.

  “Years before I became a missionary, I was a violent young man accustomed to barroom brawling.”

  Bill swung around to face Josiah.

  “During one such brawl, I confronted a peer who’d proven to be an enemy to my selfish desires. I was drunk. I was angry. I knew when to quit but didn’t. He kept coming at me, giving punch for punch. I hit him over the head with a chair. He crumpled at my feet. Yet even then, Bill, even then I drew back my fist to finish him off. It was the look in his eyes that stopped me. I’d never seen such fear, such knowing. He reached up—not with his fist—but with his hand outstretched, and clasped my shoulder as if to hold on, as if he were drowning and I was his rope. Something inside me broke. Instead of punching him, I cradled him against me as if he were a child. He died that night. So you see, Bill, I do know.”

  Gripping silence filled the air. Throat working hard against emotion, Bill swallowed and stared into the cheerless face of the calm man before him. Then without another word, he turned and left the hut.

  ❧

  Twilight’s indigo darkness colored the warm air as Sarah returned, her arms laden with coconuts. She couldn’t help but feel her father had pushed her out. That he wanted to talk to Bill alone was patently obvious. She had obeyed, yes, but at the same time she’d shielded her true feelings of hurt confusion.

  The sound of gasping, as though someone were struggling for air to breathe, made her stop in alarm. Quickly she moved through the trees, her steps silent. She spotted Bill standing at the edge of the cliff, his back to her, the moon silvering his fair hair. The peaceful thunder of the reef echoed beyond. His shoulders shook.

  “I’ll never understand,” he rasped. “Not in a million years. It makes no sense. But who am I to talk about sense? An ex-mobster. A chiseler, a racketeer, and God knows what else. . . .” His chuckle was dry. “Yeah, I guess You do know, don’t You? I guess there’s no hiding anything from You, though I certainly never tried. Lay all one’s cards out on the table—that was always Lucky Bill’s motto. So here I am, laying out every filthy card in my deck.”

  Sarah struggled to hear his next words.

  “I have no idea why You’d want the likes of me, but after hearing Josiah’s story, I’ve got no more excuses to run. I’ve heard what’s been read every night for the past two weeks—all about You and what You’ve done—and I recognize truth for what it is. You got my attention with the dolphin, but being forced to listen really opened my eyes.” He let out a self-derisive laugh. “I think I might’ve recognized the truth when Brent was always preaching it, but I was too much of a tough guy to admit it. I always felt my luck would carry me through, that I didn’t need You. But those days are gone. I don’t feel so tough or so lucky anymore.”

  As Sarah watched, Bill dropped to his knees. Her arms tightened around the coconuts. Compassion knotted her throat.

  “Josiah said all I had to do was ask You to take over, Jesus. So that’s what I’m doing. I’ve made a huge mess of things, and I have no idea where I’m going. But one thing I’m sure of is that I need You at the helm.” He let out a thundering breath in a humorless laugh. “Not sure how that’ll work since I’ve been captain of my ship for so long, doing things my way. But I’m willing to turn the wheel over now. You sure couldn’t make things any worse than they already are.”

  His last words were hoarse, and he bowed his head. Deep sobs shook his body.

  Her heart twisted at his brokenness. Something inside whispered for Sarah to go forward, to lay her hand against his shoulder, but she held back, thinking he might not welcome her eavesdropping.

  She should have made her presence known, but she hadn’t wanted to disturb him. Nor had she wanted to slip away. To secretly share in Bill’s decision pleased her. She couldn’t recall a time in which a villager’s decision for Christ gave her such joy as did Bill’s soul-stirring, heart-to-heart talk with God.

  Teary-eyed, she watched him several seconds longer, then silently retraced her steps to her father’s hut.

  ❧

  “Now that I’ve told you about my home, will you show me your island, Sarah?”

  The question startled her, and she turned to study Bill.

  “I need the exercise after lying around like a vegetable for so long.”

  Of its own accord, her gaze flicked down his trim physique; she couldn’t see that his convalescence had caused him to suffer in that regard. Embarrassed by the thought, she looked up into his eyes, which regarded her steadily but with none of the predatory animal look that had been in them during his first two weeks on the island.

  She glanced away, stacking the last of her father’s books on the shelf above his desk. “If you would like.”

  “I would like very much.”

  Tenderness laced his voice, making her warm all over. “Then we should go now before the hour comes that I must prepare dinner.”

  “I’m ready as a rooster.”

  She looked at him, confused by the terminology as she often was when he used what he called “slang.”

  He smiled and motioned for her to precede him. “Lead the way.”

  She cast him an uncertain smile before walking out of the hut. He soon joined her on the path. Why she should feel so awkward, she didn’t understand, and she fished for something to say.

  “It is difficult for me to see in my mind this Manhattan of which you speak. I cannot imagine buildings so tall they reach to the clouds, nor the absence of so many trees.” She looked at the wild panorama of greenery and color all around her. In the boughs of the breadfruit trees, birds let loose shrill cries, and geckos sought their shade. “What do the lizards climb if there are no trees? Where do the birds build their nests?”

  Bill laughed and the sound stirred her heart. “Sarah, you’re a delight. New York has no lizards, at least not giant ones that run amok like they do here. We have birds, though, and a park in the middle of the city. I guess they make their home there.”

  “No lizards?” She thought about that. “What about snakes or sharks?”

  “Not snakes like here. And the real sharks wear three-piece suits with felt fedoras and carry guns.” The smile left his face, and Sarah wished to bring it back.

  “Today, I will show you my favorite place on the island.” She smiled wide, attempting to rekindle his happi
ness. “It is where I go when circumstances lie heavy on my heart and I must think.”

  They walked deeper into the forest while she answered Bill’s frequent questions about the flora, the fauna, and the village. Sarah carefully avoided areas she knew presented dangers, both on the paths over which they walked and in the answers she gave about the people and their customs.

  “I can see why you love this island. Do you think you’ll ever want to leave?”

  His low words made Sarah stare. “I cannot think of leaving, it is all I know. . .and yet. . .”

  “Yes?” he prompted when she remained silent.

  “I’ve wondered what lies beyond the sea. My father’s books show me much, but they cannot tell me all I wish to know.” His question made her uneasy, as did the steady look he gave, and she moved ahead. “It’s up here, this place I wish to show you.”

  As they neared the area, Sarah heard the running of water rushing upon itself and quickened her pace. She rounded the corner and parted the bushes for Bill, watching his expression. His eyes brightened, and he smiled.

  “This is great, Sarah. I can see why you’d want to come here.”

  Pleased with his response, she viewed the lofty wall of bushes that surrounded the clearing, as though nurturing the waterfall and pool nestled within, secreting it away for her sole pleasure. Exotic flowers of ruby, violet, and gold bloomed from the bushes, and the grass lay soft beneath her feet. A natural rockslide stood at the edge, connected to the pool, something she’d enjoyed many times in her girlhood.

  “So quiet all of a sudden?” Bill prodded.

  “At times, I wish for my childhood back. Things were so uncomplicated then.”

  “And what’s to complicate your life now?” He plucked a red hibiscus from a bush and slid it behind her ear. “There. That’s what was missing.”

  The touch of his fingers on her hair, at her ear, made her breath catch.

  “Sarah?” His smile faded, and his eyes grew serious.

  She turned away, looking at the pool. She did want him to kiss her; she didn’t want him to kiss her. Never had she been so confused. But she didn’t want him to think her weak, and she masked her expression before facing him.

  “You are right. There is little to complicate my life; I am blessed.”

  He narrowed his eyes, studying her, when suddenly an ear-splitting screech split the air.

  ❧

  Alarmed, Bill looked up, just as a furry animal jumped down on him from the trees, its legs and arms spread wide. “Agh!” He slapped at the creature hanging on to him from behind, trying to wrest its hairy arms from around his shoulders, and was surprised to hear Sarah laughing.

  “Mutu, you naughty boy,” she said between chortles.

  The thing had a hand and began thumping Bill on the head with the flat of it.

  “Get it off me!” he demanded.

  “Mutu will harm no one. He only wants to be friends.”

  “This is friendly?” Bill grimaced as the monkey poked its finger into his ear. “Since you appear to be on good terms with the creatures of the animal kingdom, will you please tell it to get off?”

  “Mutu, come. You mustn’t treat our guest in such a way.”

  The animal didn’t budge, letting out a few ha-hoo, ha-hoos as though arguing with her.

  “Perhaps if we walk back to the hut, Mutu will lose interest.”

  “I’ve never seen him before,” Bill said, striving for patience as he walked with her. “I didn’t know the island had monkeys.” Now he could feel the inquisitive beast pulling up strands of his hair to study it. At least he hoped that’s all it was doing and that it didn’t have an appetite for hair.

  “Mutu was a freewill gift from a sea captain to my father. But Father will not let him into the hut. He does not like Mutu.”

  Bill had no problem understanding that viewpoint.

  “He sometimes visits me outside when I do chores. And he walks with me over the island when I visit my aunt.”

  “Do you go to the village often?” Bill tried to talk around the monkey’s fingers, which now pulled at his lower lip.

  “Mutu, stop that.” Her voice rang with quiet authority. To Bill’s relief, the monkey unlooped its arms from around him and fastened them around her neck, jumping to her side and wrapping its legs around her. Not pausing in her steps, she looped her arm around its back. “I go as often as necessary.”

  “Do you act as a nurse there? A teacher?”

  She hesitated. “My aunt teaches me many things. I go to learn from her.”

  Remembering what Josiah said, Bill looked at her. “The beliefs of your mother’s people?”

  “Do not judge what you do not understand.”

  “How can I learn the truth if I don’t raise questions?” When she didn’t respond, he persisted. “Last night, your father read that the Almighty God is a jealous God and there should be no others before Him. Yet isn’t that what your relatives do? Put other gods before Him? Even ancestor worship? So why do you take part in it?”

  Her step faltered. Bill reached out to grab her, but she quickly regained ground. The monkey chattered at him.

  “I do not take part. I go to learn the ancient beliefs and stories of my mother’s people. That is all.”

  “Why? Your father told me that the Bible forbids us to conform to the world’s ideals. Wouldn’t that same rule apply to life on this island? Tell me. I wish to know, Sarah. How can what your aunt teaches you and what your father teaches you be in any way related?”

  She frowned, drawing her brows together. “You must speak of this with my father. I’m not well versed enough in the Word to give you an answer.”

  Silence settled between them, broken only by the monkey’s chattering and the myriad calls of birds in the trees. Once they reached the hut, Sarah made her excuses that she must see to the meal and left with the monkey still riding her hip. Bill watched her go, then turned his attention to her father, who sat about fifty feet away, whittling on something, with his back against the trunk of a palm. Bill moved toward him.

  “Did you have a pleasant walk?” Josiah asked, never taking his eyes from the knife he used to cut grooves onto the stick he held.

  “You realize that to take Sarah off this island and onto a ship of rowdy sailors for weeks on end is dangerous, don’t you?” Bill greeted him. “Have you thought that through? She’s beautiful and intelligent, but she’s also naive.”

  “So, you’ve decided to return and stop running. I’m glad. You’ll never be free until you face your fears.”

  Bill shrugged, as if it were of little consequence, when in reality he’d thought of little else since the night he’d turned to God. The idea of returning had nagged at him until he could no longer push it away. He could lose himself in New York at the reform school where his brother taught. The sea, the islands, they were wild and beautiful, but he missed home.

  “I sense you’re the type of man to protect others.” Josiah’s response came lazily. “You’ll see to it that no harm comes to Sarah.”

  “But I can’t be with her all the time!” Bill shook his head in frustration. “The vessel on which we sail will probably be a merchant mariner, like the one I was employed on—not a luxury passenger liner with a wide choice of rooms. And those sleeping berths don’t have locks on the doors!”

  “Well, then. . .” With unhurried ease, Josiah put his handiwork aside, also laying down his knife. He looked up, regarding Bill steadily. “There appears to be only one recourse.”

  Bill snorted. “And what’s that?”

  “Marry my daughter.”

  Five

  Marry Sarah? Marry Sarah?

  Bill struggled with the idea from the moment he had blinked at Josiah after the man had calmly uttered those profound words. Bill then spun on his heel—away from the absurd suggestion—running from it, right up until now, as he sat on the empty beach and stared at the moon. They would probably wonder why he hadn’t returned for dinner, but at thi
s moment, Bill didn’t care. He had no desire to face either of them.

  Yes, she was a beauty, and he was, without a doubt, attracted to her. The thought of holding Sarah in his arms—as his wife—sent warmth soaring through his veins. Her purity, her sweetness drew him. Her intelligence amazed him and at other times needled him. Though he’d never submitted to any authority, he respected the gentle obedience she exhibited toward her father and the loyalty she showed her aunt, even if he didn’t understand her reasons for doing what he’d heard was wrong.

  But Bill wasn’t the marrying type. Never had been. Never would be. That sort of thing was for men like his brother, Brent.

  Bill released a pent-up breath and rose from the sand, dusting off his trousers. He picked up a shell and pitched it toward the colorless sea. It disappeared in the silvery blackness.

  That’s what he’d attempted to do. Disappear. But it was time to resurface. He’d known it, even before Josiah broached the subject weeks ago. New York shouldn’t hold any dangers since Vittorio thought him dead. And Sarah would enjoy discovering the countryside. . . .

  No. Bill clenched his jaw. He may be a “new man,” as Josiah had told him, but marriage didn’t fit in with his plans for a new life, either. Josiah would just have to understand.

  Guilt swamped Bill. The missionary had done so much for him: opened his home and ministered to his needs both physical and spiritual, saved his life. Bill now looked forward to his nightly talks with Josiah and realized how heavily he relied on the man’s insights and wisdom. His own father had never had time for him, never approved of him, and Josiah had filled the father role in Bill’s life.

  But marry Sarah? Asking him to link his life to another person’s for all his natural-born days? Well, that was just asking too much.

  ❧

  Sarah sat on the floor of her aunt’s hut. While Aunt Lefu prepared octopus for the evening meal, Sarah continued to weave the golden-white thin strands from the pandanus tree for the fine mat she had worked on for two years, as was custom for her dowry.