Green Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

Richard do all his leg work in gathering material for the sprightly articles he tossed off regularly. Thus, in the past years Richard had covered not only various local events, but also a number in Australia, South America, and, just now, the States. He had planned to fly home as usual, but a telephone call in New York from George Simpson had told Richard of his father’s massive stroke and incapacity, “and I’m needed at Medfield, at last.”
    She understood from the warmth of his tone when he mentioned his home that he loved the place, and also that he had felt exiled from it in some way which had to do with his father. Richard further explained that he was going to throw up his job once he’d reported to the journalist; and since his father’s condition had stabilized, he’d suddenly decided to return by sea instead of flying.
    “On such apparently chance decisions one’s future seems to hang,” he said looking at her somberly. This was actually the only acknowledgment he made of the attraction between them until the last night out.
    They had climbed to the boat deck after dinner and sat down on a locker beneath one of the lifeboats.
    The tiny stars pricked through the grayish northern sky.
    “Land,” said Richard quietly, “I can smell it. We’ll be nearing the Scilly Isles, and then England.”
    She shivered, but not from the damp wind. Richard put his arm around her. She relaxed against him, wanting nothing more, held fast in a timeless moment.
    The great ship plowed steadily through the Atlantic, rolling softly in the ocean swells.
    With faint astonishment she felt Richard begin to tremble, or was it only the far—below vibration . . . she did not question, nor did she move as he drew away. But he spoke suddenly in a harsh voice.
    “I want you, Celia. You know I want you. As you want me. But I’m
afraid.
At least, there’s a barrier.”
    She stiffened, the moment shattered. She tried to speak lightly. “A barrier? What barrier? I know you’ve no wife. Have you a mistress then? Or a mother you adore?”
    His long flexible hand clenched on his knee then fell open. “Nothing like that. I can’t explain the trouble, except it goes deep—and far into the past, something I read partly. No, that’s foolish, but when I saw you, I . . .” He stopped.
    Behind them streamed the
Queen Mary’s
foaming, glittering wake. There was faint music from the Veranda Grill, creakings from the ship, laughing voices in the distance.
    “I want you,” Richard repeated very low, “yet I want to be
alone.
Let alone . . . to serve God.”
    Celia drew back, incredulous. “Serve God . . .” she repeated. “I didn’t think—at least, I don’t understand . . .”
    Richard shook himself, and turned to her. “Of course you don’t. I don’t myself.”
    She had no time to puzzle over this thing which seemed jerked out of him against his will. Was he drunk, or had she heard wrong? For he grabbed her against him in a kind of frenzy. He kissed her hair, her cheeks, her neck, and then with violence her mouth, which opened to his in total response.
    She yielded as he pushed her backwards against the rail, feeling no hurt from the iron bar across her shoulders, feeling nothing but a savage joy in the closeness of their bodies.
    “Naow, naow—ye two!” said a stolid voice from the deck beside them. “No ’anky panky. Captain ’e don’t like fun and games up ’ere!”
    Celia and Richard separated slowly. She was confused, but Richard instantly recovered. He got up and gave the night watchman a slight nod.
    “Quite right, officer,” he said in his calm, well-modulated voice. “Though this lady is my fiancée, and we were not exactly indulging in fun and games.”
    The watchman was taken aback. He had supposed that these were the usual kids who often sneaked up from tourist class. “Well, naow, sir,” he said apologetically, “I’m only doing me duty.”
    “Of course,” said Richard, “we should