You Are Always Safe With Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

fortune herself. She had married a fortune—and by her good graces they were all here tonight, relishing the most wonderful food, the gentle night air blowing off the sea, the sweet rocking of the boat under them, the friendship of friends one had not chosen as friends but who were nevertheless bonded together in the essence of this experience.
    Fiona tonight wore a short black cocktail dress, a big feathery hat, and had diamonds around her neck whose facets caught the dim glow of the deck lights and shot arrows of brightness around the table. A show girl grown old, she was still and forever a show girl. She had a photo album she had passed around of herself singing torch songs in nightclubs (where she had met her wealthy husband). In them she was glamorous, young, sexy, and always wreathed in a haze of cigar and cigarette smoke. Another of those amazing lives, Lilly thought. Not the straight and narrow, like hers, not the predictable, like hers, but edgy and dangerous, a little wild, even breathtaking, Fiona on spike heels in those clubs where she leaned over men’s shoulders, and bumped them with her hip as she passed by.
    In the shadows of the boat, Barish hung back shyly, waiting for a time to clear away the dishes, lay out the cups for coffee, a boy who seemed amazingly young to Lilly, and almost invisible. What was his life like, what did he want from it, or dream about? She sometimes saw him sitting among the ropes and gear on the foredeck, smoking a cigarette, staring out over the water. Sometimes he sat leaning against a point of the raised anchor, among the flapping of towels clothes-pinned to the rails and drying in the wind. Did he dream of meeting girls? Surely there were none here at sea and no time to meet any in the ports. The muscles of his back were smooth and perfect. Like a young buck, he walked in a body of strength and grace—and seemed unaware of its beauty.
    “Oh my God,” cried Jane Cotton and everyone looked toward the steps from the galley as Morat came forth with a cake on which sparklers were lit, throwing stars out in front of him as he brought the cake to the table and presented it to Jane. “Oh, I can’t believe this!” she cried in delight, and above the tiny fireworks Morat smiled proudly. Behind him Izak was bringing yet another delicacy, little fried donut balls sticky with sweet syrup.
    “What is that called?” Lance inquired of the sticky balls, and Izak said, “ Tulumba Tatlisi.”
    “Why is your language so hard to understand?” Lance demanded.
    “No, it is yours very hard,” Morat replied, laughing. “I study your language, I have lessons with her,” (he pointed to Marianne) “and make worser mistakes every time.”
    “More mistakes,” she corrected him.
    “Yes,” he said. “Yes. Always more worse mistakes. I give up.”
    And while they talked Izak cleanly cut the cake and passed slices to each one of them.

LILLY BELLY DANCES
    The next day while the boat was still docked in Kas in order that some repairs could be made to the generator and the larder could be restocked by Morat, Lilly walked alone into town in the brilliance of noon heat.
    She passed a school where small children at the fence begged to know her name and then—as she walked along the road—called after her in their proud new English, “Goodbye Lilly! Goodbye Lilly!” Their sweet voices and round smiling faces brought unbidden tears to her eyes. She imagined that when school was over, the children would play till dusk and then be called inside to the lighted kitchens of their families. Later their mothers and fathers would tuck them into bed. She could picture their smooth cheeks, their eyelashes closed and dark against their pale cheeks. That they had called her by name had somehow torn her heart asunder. She continued on the village street out of sight of them, wiping her tears with a handkerchief and grateful she was alone and that no one she knew could see her so shaken with pain.
    She