The Life Of Reilly

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, just as he was about to set out for his daily jog on the beach, Jack stepped out of his house to find Buster waiting in the now-dry wallow they’d made together yesterday.

Jack stared at the gator, wondering why he was hanging around here when lately he’d preferred to be up at the airport. But the obvious plea was just too much to ignore, especially since he couldn’t see even the smallest puff of cloud in the sky.

“Okay, Buster,” he said. “I’ll get the hose.”

“Mmmmmmmhhhhhh.”

This gator talked. Of that Jack had not the least doubt. Admittedly the beast was limited by lack of lips and proper vocal chords, but somewhere during his long gator-solitary life on this island, he seemed to have learned English.

Jack turned the hose on Buster, and a stream of water ran over the rough hide, causing the gator to groan ecstatically.

“It might,” Jack said to Buster, “be ecologically more sound to put you in my bathtub.”

Umum, Buster answered, shaking his head.

“No, I guess not. I’d have to change the water anyway to keep it clean.”

Buster groaned happily, wiggling in the dirt until it mixed with the water and became mud.

An amused voice came from next door. “Does watering him make him grow?”

Jack looked up to see Lynn standing in front of her house, backpack slung over one shoulder, a stack of file folders in her arms.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “But since the drought it sure makes him happy.”

She laughed. “I agree. A happy gator is desirable. Do you feed him, too?”

“That’s one thing we avoid. We don’t want him too comfortable around us.”

“So what does he eat?”

“Well, he was eating fish and birds at the pool but now…” Jack shrugged. “I suspect it may be time to dump a few dead chickens and fish waste somewhere near the pool. He can’t be catching a whole lot right now.”

“I was thinking that, too.” She walked to her porch and set down her folders and backpack before coming toward them. She remained a respectful distance from Buster, though. “He and I had a visit this morning. A very nice conversation.”

“You didn’t run shrieking? Most newcomers do the first time they meet him.”

“I’d heard about him from my students. No point in becoming terrified, from what I heard.”

“None really. If he ever attacked a human, it was One-Hand Hank Hanratty, the guy who brought him here. The local myth is that Hank lost his hand to Buster, who wasn’t real happy about being the only gator here. Or maybe he wasn’t happy about being brought here. Whatever, he’s certainly adapted.”

“Quite well it seems. He’s even gotten you to do his bidding.”

Jack laughed and looked at the gator, who was happily rolling in the mud. “I guess that’s enough. We don’t have water to waste.” He turned off the spigot and Buster made a sound very like awwwwwwwwww but kept on rolling happily.

“I swear,” Jack said, “I’m never again going to refer to the reptilian brain as the cause of most of the bad in human nature. This reptile is both smart and a good guy.”

“I see your point.”

He wiped his hands on his shorts and flashed her a grin. “Wanna come jogging with me on the beach? It’s the best time. Great breeze, beautiful water…”

She hesitated, just long enough to make him wonder if he had something green caught between his teeth. But then she smiled. “I was going to go in early, but…Just let me change. Although I warn you, I’m used to jogging on pavement, not sand. I don’t know how far I’ll get.”

“Not a problem. I’ll just leave you in my dust.”

She grinned. “We’ll see about that.” Then she whirled, scooped up her school things, trotted back to her house and disappeared inside.

Jack found he was still smiling. He glanced at Buster. “She’s pretty unaffected and charming, isn’t she.”

Buster lifted a muddy eyelid. “Mmmmhmmmmm.”

“I thought you’d agree. And don’t worry, I’ll rustle up some chickens from the general store and some fish offal from the docks after my run and I’ll drop them off for you up near the falls.”

Buster made a disappointed groan.

“Look, you know it’s against the rules to feed you in town. Although, I have to admit, after all this time, we ought to trust you more.”

Buster seemed to nod.

“And, I’d be awful surprised if no one has ever fed you in town.”

Buster winked, as if to say, I’ll never tell.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Well, I’ll see what I can do.”

Buster rumbled something and worked his way deeper into the mud.

Less than five minutes later, Lynn, clad in a jogging outfit, met Jack on the cracked pavement. They stretched a bit, then loped at an easy pace down toward the beach. “It’s easier if you run on the wet sand,” Jack told her. “The water has it pretty much packed.”

“Yes. The electrolytic effect of the water increases the charge interaction between the sand particles, forming a more stable soil matrix.”

“That means the water has the sand packed, right?” Jack asked, staring at her.

“Umm…yes. I guess I’ve spent more time in laboratories than I have at beaches.”

“Living here ought to remedy that.”

From his mud wallow, Buster watched them go, apparently content to let the stupid humans run around in the heat by themselves.

THEY RAN AWAY from the town, to avoid the fishing boats and piers, along a wide expanse of spun-sugar sand. Lynn felt her calves straining in a new way, even on the harder wet sand, but she hardly cared. She was still utterly enthralled by the Caribbean blue water, a color that defied description. She could have scientifically explained that incredible blue-green down to the last grain of sand on the ocean floor, the exact depth of the water and its refractory abilities, but for once the scientist in her just wanted to shut down and let her senses drink it all in.

Besides, however far she had gone at Princeton working with the quantum universe and the observer effect, the reaction of the observer remained unquantifiable. In short, there was no scientific way to explain her reaction to the sheer beauty around her.

And at the moment, she didn’t care.

She was breathing deeply and her calves were screaming when finally Jack slowed to a halt, the tiki-hut roofs of the casino in sight.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He was hardly out of breath.

“My legs are complaining about the sand.”

He flashed a charming grin. “Let’s walk back then.”

She glanced at her watch and saw that she still had plenty of time. “At least part of the way,” she agreed. “You’re a bad influence, you know.”

“That’s the first time I’ve been told that.” He cleared his throat, indicating he was joking, as they turned and started back.

“I’m sure,” she agreed dryly.

“What did I influence this morning?”

“Well, like I said before, I was going to school early. I wanted to prepare some projects to do with my students.”

He looked at her with an arched brow. “Not a volcano, I hope.”

“Why not?”

He pointed to Big Mouth, the towering volcanic cone that had birthed the island. “Because we live with the real thing.”

“And it’s going to erupt for the benefit of my class?”

“Gee whiz, I hope not.”

She had to laugh at his pretend look of horror. “No, not volcanoes,” she finally said. “Isn’t there a volcanologist on the island?”

“Yeah, Edna. I’ll introduce you, if you like. She could probably tell the kids whole bunches of fascinating stuff. Maybe even take them on a walk up to the lava tubes.”

She nodded, trying not to grimace as her legs tried to knot up on her. “I hope I can walk to school. Darn, that was a punishing run.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

She looked askance at him. “You’re awfully sympathetic, being a minister and all.”

He shrugged, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Absolutely heartless, that’s me. Try walking backward instead.”

“Huh?”

“Trust me.”

Uggh. The last time she’d heard those words…. But she decided to let go of the memory and pivoted, glancing over her shoulder as she walked, feeling how the reversed motion stretched and soothed her calf muscles.

“Don’t look,” he said. “You’ll make your neck ache. Just trust your muscle memory to guide you.”

“You sound like Obi-Wan Kenobi from StarWars.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Nah. Just an old, broken down, church-league basketball coach.”

She wished she wasn’t imagining him out on a basketball court. She wished she wasn’t dragging her gaze away from an awesome pair of runner’s legs, close enough to touch, muscles rippling with a controlled power that made his stride seem utterly effortless. She’d thought he was attractive before, but somehow this morning, he’d passed attraction and hit the top of the scale at ten or so. Perfect ten. She almost giggled at herself.

“My class,” she said, in a tone meant to remind herself of important matters. Instead she came off sounding stern, as if corralling recalcitrant five-year-olds.

“Yes,” he agreed, looking suitably solemn. “Your class.”

She cleared her throat and made herself look away from him. The water was more beautiful, after all. Wasn’t it?

“One of the things I’ve been learning from my students is how little they know of anything off this island.”

“Is that bad?”

“Depends.” She still refused to look at him. “I don’t want to bring in the big, bad world, if that’s what you mean. It’s not my job anyway. Besides, they already gamble. How much harm could I do?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Point taken,” he said finally, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sin and degradation, all the way down to kindergarten.”

She eyed him. “Why do I think you’re making fun of me?”

“It’s just the way you said it. There’s nothing inherently wrong with gambling. It becomes a problem only when you bet more than you can afford to lose, when you forget that the game is played for the pleasure of the game itself and not for the profit from it. Kids here learn from very early that you can enjoy the game within the limits of your resources, that you don’t need a bigger risk in order to experience the pleasure. It’s not a forbidden, secret passion. It’s just something fun to do, and a good way to learn about the ups and downs of life.”

“And here it’s a civic duty. I know. And frankly I don’t care. If that’s how people here want to govern, by the outcome of card games, that’s their business.”

“Then why did you say what you did?”

She thought back to her words. “I guess that came out wrong.”

He merely smiled.

“I guess what I’m trying to get at is that these kids know a lot about cards, a lot about fishing, a lot about every little nook and cranny on the island. But they don’t know a lot about how the ecology works or how different it is in other places. Or how much impact man has.”

“Those would be good lessons.”

She stopped walking and leaned forward, grasping her toes and lifting gently.

“Cramping?”

When she looked up, his gaze was a blend of concern and something else…open admiration for the way her pose highlighted her…assets. She quickly stood up.

“A little. It’ll wear off.”

She forced away the thoughts of how she must have looked a moment earlier, and instead scooped up a handful of wet sand and let it slowly slip over her tilted hand. “Don’t you see it, Jack? At first it barely moves. Then, as the water seeps down to contact my skin, it forms a lubricating layer. Friction decreases. The sand slides faster, and…” It fell to the earth with a plop.

She looked at him. “Every molecule is a miracle. Every atom, every quark. Even the most ordinary activity is part of the flow of mass and consciousness through space-time, ripples of potential talking to one another in a language so subtle and beautiful that even now we’re only beginning to understand parts of it. I want my students to see that beauty, to see that magic.”

He smiled broadly now, nodding. “That would be great. So what project were you thinking of?”

“I want to start first by showing them the interconnectedness of the ecosystem. How everything depends on everything else, and nothing is too small or insignificant to consider. Then I want to move on to a contained ecology, like an unpopulated island.”

“Well, I know of the perfect island, although I’m not a hundred-percent certain it’s never been contaminated.”

She waved a hand. “Contamination is inevitable. So long as the wind blows and the waves wash ashore, things will travel—from seeds, to microbes.”

He nodded. “You’re doing good, teach. Maybe you can even tell us what impact Buster has had on this island.”

She looked at him. “Buster is part of this island now. And I suspect he’s done less damage than the casino.”

“Shh. He’s a very self-important alligator.”

She laughed then, feeling better than she had since Delphine had first appeared in her living room.

Delphine. Oh, lord, there was trouble coming. Lynn could feel it in her bones.

CHAPTER FIVE

LYNN BEGAN TO FEEL she was making genuine inroads into her new life and new job. She had learned each student’s name and was settling into something of a comfortable and even normal routine, if such could be said to exist on Treasure Island.

Then, of course, Delphine returned. The timing was just too perfect. In another world, she might have thought it an accident. But the way things were going lately….

Coming down the short hallway in the white panties and men’s T-shirt she slept in, she entered the kitchen with no thought except coffee. She hadn’t even waited to put her contacts in, and she’d lost her glasses in the move, a mistake because without them she needed to make the coffee by touch, since the world was utterly out-of-focus.

Not that she had a chance to practice, because just as she stepped toward the sink with the coffee carafe in her hand, the under-sink cupboard doors blew open and water spewed forth with all the ferocity of a fire hose.

Lynn shrieked. “Delphine!”

But Delphine apparently had decided to remain invisible this morning, even though it was totally obvious to Lynn that nothing short of diabolical intervention could have sprung that leak exactly at that instant.

Slipping on the suddenly flooded floor in her bare feet, trying not to drop the glass carafe, she continued her way to the sink and counter. But despite her best efforts she fell.

“Delphine!” she cried again as she hit the floor on one side, cradling the carafe to her breast as if it were a baby. “I’m going to kill you, do you hear me? You’ll be deader than dead!”

Rising to her knees, she began crawling toward the counter, getting sprayed now directly in her face. She wondered if it was possible to hit a deceased aunt with a pipe wrench. If she could even find one.

JACK MARKS HEARD the shriek as he was watering the herb garden he tended on the side of his house. He wasn’t especially domestic, but he loved to cook, and he loved truly flavorful food, which here on Treasure Island meant growing your own herbs or impoverishing yourself to have them flown in.

Fresh was better anyway, he thought, humming as he watered. From time to time he turned the hose to hit Buster, who had for the time being taken up permanent residence in the wallow in front of Jack’s house. The neighbors were even beginning to remark on it. Jack, of course, knew the secret: water. He was the only one who cooled Buster off.

“Delphine!”

Who was Delphine? And why did Lynn sound so distressed? Jack felt the urge to go help, the white knight in him coming to the fore, then reminded himself to mind his own business. He sprayed Buster again, then bent over to shut off the water.

Another shriek and a thud. Jack straightened and looked toward Lynn’s house. The screen door to her kitchen might as well have been made of wood for all he could see.

“I’ll kill you, do you hear!” she shouted. “You’ll be deader than dead!”

O-o-o-kay, he thought. A life hung in the balance. Time not to mind his own business. He dropped the hose onto the ground, wiped his wet hands on his shorts and strode toward Lynn’s door.

As he came closer, he heard a rushing sound and Lynn’s voice erupting in language blue enough to dye the entire Caribbean. He winced, then felt an unwilling grin tug at his mouth. He didn’t know many people who could swear like that.

He reached the door and cupped his hands around his eyes so he could see past the screen into the dim kitchen. “Lynn?”

“Go away!”

Was she talking to him? Or to the Delphine she’d been shouting at earlier? Either way, she sounded stressed to the point of breaking, so he opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.

The flood wasn’t the first thing that caught his attention. Oh, no. He might be a preacher, but in that instant he was all man. With water spraying everywhere, Lynn was scrambling to get under her sink, tossing bottles and cans in every direction. She was also an extremely tempting sight in a white T-shirt that was nearly transparent from the water, clinging to her every curve like a caress. And that cute little rump, cased in white bikini panties, up in the air….

“Ooof!” Shock and pain hit him at exactly the same moment as a can of white enamel spray paint, flung across the room, hit him in the family jewels. For an instant, fiery pinwheels blinded his vision. He doubled over and lost his balance, falling face-first into the flood.

Shock retrieved him from pain long enough to turn him once again into a man of the cloth, one with a white horse and a lance. Another can flew, but he dodged it and crawled forward through the water.

“Damn it!” she said, twisting her face to one side as she tried to feel for the water cocks.

“Here, let me,” he said, sliding up beside her. It did not help to realize that cold wet clothes between two warm bodies was surprisingly sensual. He gritted his teeth and reached in for the cocks. Moments later he had shut them.

Lying side by side on the floor, looking into the cabinet, neither of them moved or spoke.

Finally he cleared his throat and said, “Who is Delphine?”

He might as well have touched her with an electric prod. She stiffened, jerked away and glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to be helpful. I heard you scream.”

“You think I can’t turn off the water by myself?”

Lying there, soaking wet, with his privates throbbing in pain, he wondered if he had lost his mind. Surely his help shouldn’t have elicited that kind of response.

“Of course I think you can turn off the water by yourself. I was just trying to be helpful.”

“You and Delphine both!” She pushed herself farther away. “I can live without this kind of help.”

“Who’s Delphine?” he asked. “I heard you yelling at her.”

“My aunt!” She sat up, looking thoroughly and utterly disgusted. Sitting up, however, gave him a wonderful view of her bobbing breasts. He closed his eyes.

“Your aunt is visiting you?”

“No.”

His eyes popped open and he sat up. “Just passing through?”

She scowled at him. “Quit giving me the third degree.”

“Well, you were threatening to kill her.”

Her jaw dropped, then a moment later snapped shut. “She’s not here.”

What was going on? There was suddenly something furtive in her eyes, as if she were hiding something. All of a sudden Jack had a truly uneasy feeling about this woman. Was she crazy? Was she hiding this Delphine somewhere in the house and planning to kill her?

The last idea he immediately batted away like a gnat as being highly unlikely. Crazy seemed more in the ballpark, especially on this island. Only slightly crazed people lived here and moved here. Himself, for example. He could have served in some nice wealthy church, driving a nice expensive car, eating at restaurants and all those other glorious things you got to do if you landed among well-to-do congregants. Instead he’d chosen to come here and live like a beach bum where at last he could be himself.

Most everyone here was a little bent. Why not the schoolteacher? On the other hand, she was charged with looking after the children….

Deciding he needed to keep an eye on her, he pushed himself to his feet. “Let me help you clean this up. I’m good at swabbing decks. Did it for four years in the navy before divinity school.”

“No. No!” Looking horrified, she jumped to her feet. “I’ll do it. You’ve got better things to do.”

He ignored her and bent down to look at the copper tubing. “I’ve never seen a pipe split that way. Look at that tear. It’s like someone slashed it.”

She started to bend to take a look, but at that instant appeared to realize her state. Looking down at herself, she turned bright red. “Get out of here,” she said hoarsely. “Now!” Then she turned and fled, slipping a bit on the wet floor.

Jack hesitated, unsure whether to laugh, swab the deck or just flee before he got sucked any further into this woman’s life. Then he realized he really had no choice; he’d been told to leave.

Turning, he marched out of her kitchen, ignoring the way water slopped over his feet and sandals. The woman was an oddball, he thought. She talked to herself, threatened to kill a woman who wasn’t even there just because she was frustrated with a burst pipe and then refused help with the cleanup.

That latter, he thought, was downright unneighborly. The least you could do is accept freely offered help when you had a bit of a catastrophe. Even if you were a woman, half-naked and exposed in a now-transparent T-shirt and panties. Heck, especially then!

He shook away the thought as stepped out the door and found himself face-to-face with Buster.

“Why aren’t you in your wallow?” Jack asked.

The alligator opened his mouth just enough to show all those huge, gleaming teeth and moved toward Jack.

Instinctively, Jack backed up. “I’m not your dinner.”

Buster groaned and shook his head, still showing his teeth.

“This is ridiculous,” Jack said. “You’ve never eaten anyone on this island.”

Buster appeared unimpressed, as if to say, there’s always a first time.

Jack moved to step around him, but Buster, moving with that always amazing reptilian speed, blocked the way.

“What is going on here?” Jack demanded. He stepped the other way and again was blocked.

“You devil,” he said to the great beast with the huge gleaming teeth. “You don’t want me to leave.”

“Mmmmhmmmmmm,” came the response.

Well darn, Jack thought. Here he was, stuck on a cement stoop, caught between the house from which he’d just been evicted and an alligator that appeared to have every intent of biting him if he moved in the wrong direction.

The choice between the slightly crazy virago inside and the slightly crazy alligator outside was hardly a choice. How long was he going to have to stand here?

For a moment he thought of trying to dart past Buster—after all, the alligator had never harmed a soul in recent memory—but he was intelligent enough to realize that if he moved fast, he might well evoke a predatorial instinct that not even Buster could control.

So what now, genius? he asked himself.

Buster settled the issue by opening his mouth to a gaping maw and darting toward him again.

Jack jumped back through the screen door and let it slam shut between them. “Now what?” he asked the empty kitchen as Buster grinned at him.

GRIPING BENEATH HER breath, both horrified and embarrassed beyond words, Lynn threw her soggy clothes into the bathtub and toweled herself dry.

“You’re gonna get it, Delphine,” she muttered. “I don’t know how, but you’re gonna get it. I’ve got enough problems without you bursting my pipes.”