Chapter 12
The following morning, Jane was at the small writing desk which Madeleine had thoughtfully provided, trying to compose a' letter to her husband. She would get halfway through the first paragraph, and stop. There was no way, seemingly, that she could communicate with him effectively. He was as remote as -- as the South Pole. There was no point of contact -- of communication, in fact -- between them at this late date. And so, Jane had been wracking her brains for a satisfactory way to tell him that she no longer cared for him. By this time, Jane was on the verge of beginning divorce proceedings. These past days, here in Haiti, had put things into focus quite nicely. It was now apparent that Jane could not and, indeed, would not -- consent to live with Bill Morrow as his wife. Whatever happened here, at this seaside resort, would have no effect on her decision. She simply could not tolerate being married to that man any longer. And Alexander had entered her life. That, really, had been the catalyst which had brought her so quickly to this irrevocable, decisive step.
And now the only problem was to put it down on paper.
With attention to detail, Jane began again: Dear Bill, I am sure that this will be a terrific shock to you, and there is no way in the world that I can soften the ...
Abruptly, Jane tore the thin sheet of writing paper in half, and put it in the wastebasket. She took another sheet from the drawer, put it flat on the small table, and began again: Dear Bill, This will probably be the nastiest letter you'll ever get from me, but there's just no way to soften the blow. I have felt for a long time that things have not been quite right between us, and I ...
Jane stopped writing all at once, and suddenly crumpled the sheet of paper into a tight ball, throwing it into the wastebasket angrily, so that it made a small Chunk when it struck the metal bottom of the pail.
"Well I'll be damned," Jane said quietly, shaking her head and looking at the ball-point pen in her hand. "I'll just be damned. I can't seem to write a simple letter anymore!"
But, at the back of her mind, Jane knew that this was not a "simple letter" at all -- it was the most important letter she had ever written in her life.
She began again: Dear Bill, This letter is probably the most painful that I have ever written...
All at once, there was a loud knock at the door, and Jane stopped writing. Giving up completely, she threw the crumpled paper into the metal pail, closed the drawer with a BANG, and walked to the door of her bedroom.
She opened the door, and saw Madeleine standing before her, with a big smile on her face.
"You're pretty happy for this time of the morning, Madeleine my dear," Jane said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"Clean conscience does it," Madeleine replied. "May I come in?"
"Certainly," Jane replied, stepping aside to let the short, darker woman into her bedroom.
Madeleine walked into the bedroom slowly, like a sergeant inspecting a private soldier's bunk.
"You've certainly made yourself at home. I hope you're enjoying your stay with us."
Jane felt a twinge of apprehension in her stomach, and nodded her head.
"I'm having a nice time," she said simply.
Madeleine sat on the edge of the bed, and looked up at Jane speculatively, her eyes narrowing suddenly.
"I understand you attended the festival in the village last night Was Alexander there?"
Jane nodded her head.
"Yes, he was there. Why do you ask?"
"No reason, actually," Madeleine said, her eyes covering the room quickly, darting over the carpet and chairs and writing table.
"You like Alexander quite a lot, don't you, Jane?"
Jane looked at Madeleine for a moment, her eyes narrowing suddenly.
"What's this all about?" she said slowly. "Have I done something wrong? Is there any reason why Alexander and I shouldn't see each other?"
"I don't want you to get too fond of him, Jane. That's all."
"Why in the world not?
Madeleine's face, small and oval, framed by her thick dark hair, hardened suddenly.
"Because it wouldn't be good for you, that's all."
Jane felt her face grow hot, and knew, from Madeleine's amused expression, that she was blushing furiously.
"It certainly seems to be good for you," Jane replied tartly, her eyes wide with rage.
Madeleine's amused expression vanished abruptly.
"Just what the hell do you mean by that?" Madeleine said, her voice soft, deadly. Menace was in the marrow of her tone. Jane was, suddenly, afraid of Madeleine as never before.
"Just a manner of speaking," Jane replied noncommittally, edging away from Madeleine instinctively.
Abruptly, Madeleine was off the bed, and moving toward Jane. She slapped Jane, hard, with the flat of her open hand, and left a white mark on the taller woman's cheek.
Her hand going to her face, Jane staggered back, her eyes filling abruptly with tears.
"I want an explanation of that last remark," Madeleine said evenly.
Jane, her eyes blazing with hate, struck back, but verbally:
"You certainly don't mind sleeping with him, though, do you? You aren't above doing that, are you?"
To Jane's amazement, Madeleine's eyes widened. She let out a harsh, abrupt laugh.
"Of course I sleep with him, you ninny! You don't think I'd go near that dipso husband of mine, do you? Be real, my dear, naive friend."
Madeleine sat back on the bed, and laughed out loud.
"Did you really think I'd have that big hunk of man around here and not make use of him? You idiot."
Jane felt puzzled, unsure.
"Then... then why did you get angry just now?" she asked, her hand trailing to her cheek, which was still smarting from the slap.
"Knowing it is one thing," Madeleine purred, leaning forward slightly, "being told about it is something else again. My dear girl, have you ever heard of minding your own business?"
Jane blinked, and shook her bead.
"I just don't understand you, Madeleine."
Madeleine smiled. "It's not necessary that you understand me. just that you do as I say.
Jane looked up abruptly.
"What?"
Madeleine looked Jane in the eye.
"Frederick and I are going away for a couple of days. Since you're here, I'd like you to sort of look after the place while we're gone."
Jane, somewhat mollified, nodded her head.
"All right, Madeleine -- of course I'll be glad to do you that favor. Just one more thing."
Madeleine nodded her head.
"Sure. just name it."
Jane slapped Madeleine across the face, hard.
"You don't go around slapping me in the face," she said, looking Madeleine in the eye.
Laughing, Madeleine turned, shrugging off the blow as though it had never happened.
"Anything else?" Madeleine asked, her eyes bright, merry.
"No, I guess not -- except for one thing. When are you leaving?"
"This afternoon. I'll give you a few details at lunch. Nothing to it, really. just lock up and see that the lights are off."
Jane nodded, and looked at Madeleine inquiringly. Secretly, she was amazed at the aplomb with which Madeleine had shrugged off that slap in the face. She must have an interior of chrome steel, Jane mused, looking at the slight, bright-eyed woman before her.
"So long," Madeleine said, smiling and shutting the door behind her as she left.
As soon as the door was closed, Jane sat on the edge of the bed, and let herself relax slowly, exhaling a full breath of air loudly. That Madeleine was unbelievable -- hard and unbelievably tough, that was it.
Silently, to herself, Jane wondered at the combination of circumstances that could produce someone like Madeleine.
She shook her head. She could not even guess at them.