So Much for Dreams Page 13

  She got onto her knees and went to him, her hands against his chest. "Joe, you know that's not rational. You must know that."

  "Oh, I know it." He said wryly, "Hank spent a lot of time telling me what it was in fancy words. The only thing he said, though, that really made any sense to me, was that I should get the hell away. It seemed like a good idea, and I did it. I arranged for another doctor to take over my patients for three months and I went."

  "Three years ago? On the boat?" She stroked his arm where it rested on the chair, but he didn't feel it.

  "Julie and I had bought the boat the year after Sherrie was born. Julie named it. Free Moments, because I didn't have that many. I should have taken it easier, given her more time ... the kids."

  She said softly, "Three years ago? You can't stay away forever."

  Her drew back and she was alone although there were only inches between them. "Yes I can," he said harshly.

  Of course he could.

  "You can sail away and just keep going?" Living in this country was very inexpensive and she supposed whatever savings he had would last a long time. But— "It's not the right thing," she said softly. "I know you have to make your own decisions, but Joe, I know about this. I've lost everybody that ever mattered to me. My parents. Leo. But if you turn away from people, if you don't let yourself get involved—Well, maybe you don't get hurt, but you sure the hell don't live either."

  Her heart was pounding and he was not going to say anything. She said, raggedly, "I'm sorry. It's none of my business, is it?"

  "No," he agreed, standing up, shaking her words off. "Let's go back to the boat. We'll get an early start tomorrow." But he was the one who stood still, not moving, staring out at his own boat. Finally he moved, saying briskly, "We've got to find Cathy. That's what you came to Mexico for."

  That night as she slept in the small cabin at the front of the boat, she found that she could lie very still and hear Joe's breathing. Maybe that was symbolic of what was between them. Dinah alone in a bunk, awake, listening. Joe, sleeping in the next cabin, his life not altered by the woman who loved him. But his touch on her body and her soul had altered her world forever.

  Did he still love Julie?

  The next day was windy and they had hard work sailing north to Isla San Francisco. The wind was brisk from the north. Joe set the sails and tacked into the waves and wind, beating their way slowly towards the island in jagged steps dictated by the strong northerly.

  Joe called it sailing uphill, going against the wind. It was wet, the bow of the boat pounding into the waves, sending sheets of spray back over the cockpit. With the sun overhead, the wind and waves wild, the hard work of hauling on lines and winches seemed to fill her with a new energy.

  They were too busy handling the boat to feel tension between them. Dinah found Joe easy to work with, his instructions clear and calm. He didn't shout or get excited, but when the boat leaned over hard and pounded into the white water she could see the grin of pleasure on his face and she felt happy. Maybe Alice could be talked into giving up her crew position. Maybe Joe would let Dinah come with him if she didn't talk about loving.

  The tiny Isla San Francisco grew larger on the horizon. It was a small island with a crescent-shaped bay on its west side. It was late afternoon before they rounded the lighthouse at the entrance to the bay and escaped the wild water by motoring over to the north side of the bay.

  There were three other boats anchored in the bay, all sailboats. "Don't recognize any of them," said Joe tersely as he went forward to let the anchor go. "Wait till we get settled, then we'll see."

  The anchor made a thump, then a rumbling race of chain. Joe took his time after the anchor was set, watching the rocks on the beach, judging whether they were solidly anchored. "If the wind turns south," he warned her, "we'll have to set to and move over to the other side of the bay. This is a beautiful spot, but it's not much of an anchorage in a south wind."

  The boat closest to the shore was Buena Vista.

  "Do you want me to go with you?" asked Joe. "Or would it be better for you to see her alone?"

  "I don't know." Now, so close to Cathy, she was aware of all the things that could go wrong. Cathy had written Leo, might not welcome Dinah's appearance in his place. What if it wasn't Cathy after all? "I need you," she said finally. "For the dinghy. I don't know how to run it."

  He nodded and started readying the dinghy, adding wryly, "And for courage?" and she admitted that he was right.

  "I'm nervous about how she'll react. She wrote Leo, and—Well, she called for help. I just have to hope she'll accept it from me."

  "She might not need it," Joe pointed out as he held the dinghy for her to board. "She might have worked it out for herself."

  "Worked it out?" Dinah forced her voice calm. "Joe, she's just a kid. Do you think she'll make it, hopping from man to man for a bread ticket?"

  He nodded. "No. I'm sorry. Let's go." He fired the dinghy engine up and they started out, and she thought he murmured something like, "I just hope we don't have trouble with the captain of the bloody boat."

  Dinah hadn't really thought of all this from the point of view of the man on Buena Vista. A few minutes later they learned that he looked even younger than Walt had suggested. His head appeared through a hatch when Joe rapped on the hull of the boat. He was frowning, annoyed at the interruption. Dinah guessed he was about twenty-two.

  Joe said, "We're looking for a Canadian girl named Cathy Stinardson."

  If possible, Barry scowled more deeply. "Why? Who are you?"

  "Friends," Dinah said quickly. "She is here, isn't she? She wrote, and—"

  "She wrote her friend Leo." The boy was scowling and Dinah had the feeling he had problems deeper than he was able to handle.

  "I know," she said.

  Joe said mildly, "Look, why not let us come on board. I'm Joe and this is Dinah and we're not going to do either you or Cathy any harm. You're Barry, aren't you?"

  "Yeah." He hesitated, then nodded. "OK. She's inside. She's not feeling very good." As Dinah climbed onto the boat, Barry asked, "Is there really a guy called Leo? I wasn't sure if she was having me on or not."

  Joe caught Dinah's hand as she started into the cabin. "I'll wait here. It's going to be easier for her if there aren't too many of us. Call me if you need me."

  "Thanks." She smiled at the warmth in his eyes and inside her something began to flower. This man was going to have a hard time keeping the indifferent mask he had sported when she first met him. She said softly, "I know I can count on you," and he looked startled but not as alarmed as he might have a few days ago.

  Cathy had not had the baby yet, but it couldn't be long now. She was lying on the settee behind a dining table, her Mexican-style summer dress stretched enormously over the abdomen. When she saw Dinah, she did not recognize her.

  "Barry," she said uneasily. "You said you wouldn't have anyone aboard. I don't want to see anyone."

  Dinah passed Barry, sat down across the table from Cathy. "I came to see you," she said, watching Cathy's face closing into rejection. "We met last year," she went on, and Cathy was trying not to listen. "You were at Leo's for a week. I'm Dinah. I was downstairs, and we spent some time together."

  "Leo—" Cathy didn't want to ask. "I wrote him. He didn't answer." Her voice was flat, telling Dinah she didn't care if Leo answered her letter or not.

  "Your letter didn't come until a few days ago. It was mailed in February, but it didn't get to Leo's house until now." She leaned closer, stopped when Cathy drew back. "Cathy, I'm sorry, but Leo died in February."

  "He never got my letter?" It took some time to sink in. Leo had not ignored her appeal. She gulped. "I waited, went to the post office every day."

  "Honey, why didn't you phone him? You could have called collect." The call would have come just before Leo went into hospital, and Leo would have done something about it, somehow gotten Cathy onto a plane home.

  "I was scared to." She gulped and Dinah re
membered how her own fingers had trembled as she dialed Leo's telephone number that night ten years ago. One ring. Two. Three, and she had been starting to hang up, quickly, before he could answer.

  Then his voice on the line. Her silence, fingers curling into the receiver, hurting. "This is Leo," he'd had said for the second time. "Who's there?"

  She had managed, "Dinah. I—You don't remember who I am." She had been ready to hang up quickly at the slightest word from him.

  "I remember," he had said quietly, proving it by saying, "You didn't want to go back to Prince George. I wasn't going to send you back there, Dinah."

  She had swallowed, said aggressively, "Yeah, well. You'd have sent me somewhere, wouldn't you?"

  He had not answered that, had asked instead, "Where have you been?"

  "Around." She had looked out at the dark street. "I'm fine." A police car had slowed as it passed, the officer twisting to look into the booth. Then there had been a noise from the car radio and the flashing lights had gone on as he sped away. Earlier there had been the ambulance for the boy who had attacked her, and she had hidden until it was gone.

  "Is that why you called me?" Leo had asked. "To give me a line about how great everything is?"

  She had been silent, her fingers tense on the receiver until Leo had asked, "Have you had supper?"

  "No." She hadn't eaten all day.

  "Then how about a meal and a bed for the night?" She realized now, looking at Cathy, how careful Leo's voice had been on the telephone that night as he said, "I've got a spare room."

  "What do you want for it?" she had demanded suspiciously.

  "We'll work something out."

  "I'm not going to have it on with you," she had said sullenly.

  "No," he had agreed, and she had found herself tempted to believe he meant it.

  Leo had made a deal with her that night. She would look after his house and cook his dinners, and she could have the apartment downstairs. No restrictions on her social life, but no dope and no booze, and no noise that kept him up nights. The one condition was that Dinah had to agree to undergo a week of educational testing, then agree to seriously consider the resulting recommendations.

  Ten years later, and Cathy's face was turning rigid with sulky rejection as she asked, "What're you doing here? I didn't ask you to come. I don't need anyone. I'm fine."

  When Cathy's eyes looked desperately around at the inside of the boat, they found Barry. "Barry's going to look after me."

  Dinah wondered if Cathy could see the unease on Barry's face. She said, "Cathy, Leo asked me to help you." There was no sign that the girl had heard. "There's room in the house. Leo left me the house, for me and for his kids." Leo always called them that, his kids. Even Dinah who was twenty-six now. "The apartment downstairs is empty," she said.

  It had been Dinah's apartment until she moved upstairs after Leo died. Once she finished school and started working, she had paid rent. There hadn't been any reason to move. It was the only home she had. Now she said, "There's room for you and the baby."

  "We gotta eat," the girl said tightly. "An' my baby's not gonna be a welfare brat like me. And don't say I can get it adopted. I'm not goin' to do that. It's my baby. I'm not giving it to anybody."

  Dinah said carefully, "I need someone to cook supper during the weekdays, and do a bit of light housework so the house doesn't get too messy. If you wanted to do that for me, I'd give you room and board and a bit extra. You'd have time to go back to school."

  It was almost word-for-word the offer Leo had made her ten years ago. Cathy unknowingly answered as Dinah had. "I'm not much of a cook."

  "Neither am I." Dinah relaxed a bit. "I've got a good cookbook you can use."

  Cathy shifted uncomfortably, her hand pressing against the hard roundness of her abdomen. She looked so terribly young as she asked, "Why school? Why do I have to do that?"

  "You know the reasons. The baby. You. So you can control your own life. If that's not enough, what about Leo? You promised Leo. You said if he helped you, that you'd go back to school."

  "But he didn't—"

  "He sent me." He had not said Cathy's name, but he had asked Dinah to look after the kids. "So you've got a promise to keep."

  Cathy stared at her, her face unyielding. Outside, the wind must have shifted, coming into the bay and rocking the boat on the waves. Cathy touched her stomach gently, as if it were complaining at the motion. "Why you? Why would he get you to look after his kids."

  "Maybe because I'm one of them." Cathy frowned and Dinah said, "Ten years ago it was me calling him, and he came."

  The suspicion was less, but still there. "I'm not going to give up the baby. It's my baby."

  "That has to be your own decision," Dinah said. Barry shifted uncomfortably, stood up as if about to leave for the cockpit outside.

  "OK," said Cathy finally, then she closed her eyes tightly and gasped painfully.

  Barry said nervously, "She's been having those pains all day. I wanted to get her to the doctor, but the weather didn't look too good and she didn't want to go." His concern and helplessness were in his voice. He was a nice boy, knew Cathy needed help, but was not sure enough to be firm with her.

  Cathy was panting slightly. "I—I can't speak Spanish. I won't have someone looking after me who can't understand. They might do anything to me!" Cathy squeezed her eyes tight and wailed, "I don't know anything about this! I don't know how to have a baby, and I—"

  Dinah smoothed her curly red hair, but Cathy would not be calmed. She started to cry. Dinah called softly, "Joe?"

  He would know what to do. Crazy Cathy, such a baby herself, avoiding doctors, acting as if she could delay having the baby by simply saying she was not ready.

  She felt Joe's hand on her shoulder and she moved aside to let him closer to Cathy. "She needs you," Dinah whispered.

  Chapter Nine

  Joe crouched beside Cathy as her body went rigid and she cried out in pain. His hand rested lightly on her distended abdomen.

  "Oooooh! I—It hurts!"

  He brushed her damp hair back, said quietly, "Cathy, you're fighting what's happening. Did you learn any breathing exercises for when the baby's coming?" Her head rocked back and forth in a wild negative, then her tenseness eased and she was left exhausted, her eyes closed, her face shiny with perspiration.

  "Barry?" Joe's voice was a quiet command that Barry responded to instantly. "Take my dinghy, go over to my boat—the ketch anchored just north of you. It's not locked. Go into the aft cabin and get the black leather bag that's under the chart table seat. The seat lifts up and the bag's under, in a hatch."

  Dinah heard the engine cough as Barry pulled the cord to start it. Then it caught and she heard it roar as the dinghy sped away. Cathy was groaning, but lying quietly under Joe's touch on her shoulder. Touch is important, Leo had always said. Just a little touch, but when people are hurting it's important to let them know you're there. People like Cathy, often rejected as a child, usually shook off touches, but Joe's hand on her seemed to calm.

  Dinah asked, "Joe, what can I do?"

  "See if you can find out where Barry stashes his linen. A couple of clean sheets. A clean towel—something to wrap the baby in. As for you, Cathy, I want you to breathe slowly and deeply. That's it. You want to relax, store up your energy. Just let the breath come in and fill up your lungs very slowly, very gently. Feel yourself relaxing—Dinah, see if there aren't some tapes somewhere."

  "Tape? What for?"

  "Not adhesive. Music. Something soothing to help keep her calm. There's a tape deck on the other side of the cabin. But for heaven's sake, don't stick in some heavy rock!" Dinah saw Cathy grin weakly and Joe said to the girl, "You might like it, but you don't want your baby dancing the jig, do you?"

  Cathy giggled and Joe smiled as he nodded to Dinah to go searching cupboards. She found sheets in a closet at the back of the boat. She sorted out two white ones and brought them back to Joe, put them on the opposite settee. He
was talking earnestly to Cathy in a low voice.

  "That's it. When you feel ... yes, that's the way. If you relax with it, it's easier."

  Dinah was rather amazed to find a Chopin tape. She put it in the player, turned the volume low. Watching, it seemed that the soft music did have a relaxing effect on Cathy. "Did you used to play music in the delivery room?" she asked Joe when he nodded his approval of the music.

  "Depends on the hospital. Some are stodgier than others. This hospital is rather informal."

  Cathy curved her arms around her stomach. "Joe, are you a real doctor?"

  "The real thing. Are you from Vancouver, Cathy?"

  "Yes."

  "That's where I trained. If you and I had both stayed in our own country, we could have been doing this together in some hospital." He grinned and added, "We'd probably have a lot less fun. No music. A disapproving nurse who couldn't possibly be as pretty to look at as Dinah is."

  Cathy closed her eyes and for a minute Dinah thought she had dropped off. "Is it going to be all right?"

  "Everything looks good." He squeezed her hand. "Why don't you let Dinah help you out of your things? You'll be more comfortable with just your dress and the sheet. Then when Barry gets back with my bag, I'll take a closer look. After that, we can take bets on when your daughter is going to arrive—and on whether she'll turn out to be a son."

  "She's a girl," Cathy insisted.

  It was hours before they knew the answer. Joe got Dinah to sit on a stool near Cathy's head, to talk to her and hold her hand. When Barry returned with the black bag, the two men removed the table to make an open area near Cathy. Dinah hadn't realized the table could be detached from its position, but without it there was much more room, although it couldn't be an ideal delivery room.