An American couple discovers that passion can have terrible consequences in
remote parts of the globe.
When we were saying goodbye outside the restaurant in the late afternoon light, I
just could not help taking Jocelyn Maxwell's hands in mine and looking into those
strangely guarded eyes of hers. "I hope Pepper gets better," I said. "I
hope she gets better soon."
She nodded, then managed a smile. "I do wish we could
have entertained you at home," she replied. "But right now it's just not
possible."
"But this was lovely!" I told her. She seemed so
uncertain of herself that I gave her a hug. She held me tentatively, her body guarding
itself the way her eyes guarded her soul. As if somehow we would criticize her or her
husband. As if we would blame them for the condition of their child. When I released her,
she turned to Bruce and offered him her hand. "Nice to see you again," she said.
Bruce took the small hand and gave her one of his looks. "Journalist looks," I
call them and I ask him please not to use them when we are being private people. It's as
if his eyes are penetrating the very depths of your soul to see if you're lying. No wonder
Jocelyn was feeling guarded; I hardly blamed her. |