Chapter 9

DANNY MIXON WORKED LIKE HELL. He toughened hands and arms by chopping wood, hardened back and belly by volunteer stints in the vegetable garden. And every evening, he ran steadily and doggedly along the beach, spraying sand, putting mile after mile of roadwork behind him.

He looked different, and he was-stronger, clear-eyed, tanned. I watched him often, and wished I knew more about boxing, remembered the things my husband had said about the Army fighters he trained. It was strange, but I could think of Jim Curtis without sorrow now. , Danny was alive, so he was important. I watched him, hoping with all my heart that what he was doing would be enough to protect him from the brute strength and evil power of Kane Zell.

Danny moved nicely as he ran, stopping suddenly to pivot, jab, hook off the jab with his right hand high. There was beauty in him as he worked, beauty and an efficiency that was beginning to take on a high polish. He said he felt it, that he sensed the return of speed and timing he had once had, but that his reflexes were still off, that his punches lacked the old kick. I didn't know about that; I knew only that his body was a fine, gleaming machine now.

He needed a timing bag, but we had to make out without one. There were no swivels on the island, no springs and resilient leather. But I was proud of the authoritative snaps his wrapped hands made when they hammered flashing into the makeshift body bag he had put together.

But a constant fear nagged at me. Would all this be enough? Was it possible for a man to shake off the effects of many years of dissipation, to roll back time? I wondered if the years could be sloughed away like excess skin. Zell was so monstrous, so frighteningly animal. The kill and science of a stand-up fighter might not be enough to stop him-even if the fighter was young and in his prime. Danny wasn't either.

While he was resting, Danny talked about Zell: "If he's like a lot of big men, he's disdainful of anything except raw strength. Men like that sneer at professional fighters, say that they look pretty in the ring, but that the fighter would get his brains scrambled in an alley brawl.

"They talk like that until they actually meet a pug in an alley, and find out the hard way that location doesn't have a damned thing to do with speed, know-how and a punch; or with condition, either."

Danny made a habit of looking past me these days. He did it now, staring over my head and out to sea. "But I'm not kidding myself," he said. "A pug can be cute and tricky, but there comes a time when he's got to stand flat-footed and punch it out. If the other guy can take all you throw and keep coming, you've had it."

His face had a going-back look. "Then," he said softly, "then a fighter is on his back with a mouthful of blood, trying to stop the lights from spinning while the referee tolls off a count he can't quite make out."

He didn't say it, but I knew what he was thinking. Here, there'd be no referee, no rules to protect a downed fighter, no bell to save him. Here, if Danny went down, he'd never get up again.

He left me and ran down the beach once more, legs churning, bobbing, and weaving. I watched him go, and was suddenly conscious of someone close by. I turned wearily, expecting Zell. Joy Santee stood staring after Danny.

"I wouldn't," I said.

Her mouth tightened. "You've had your chance."

"It's not over; nobody rang a bell on me-or on Ella."

Joy was taut, restless, a deep need naked in her eyes. "I don't love the guy. I just need him."

I shook my head. "Danny has trouble enough. Don't make more for him."

Joy's fingers clenched. "What the hell do you want me to do, go make eyes at Jessie?"

"Not if you don't want to. Joy-maybe you're blowing this out of proportion. Maybe you want something because you've been told you can't have it."

Her eyes turned savage. "Why-because Zell took that damned kid, instead of me? Listen-Zell, Danny-or anyone else would do me right now. You may be able to sit on your emotions, but that's not for me. You and Ella can play the waiting game, but not me. I want a man-any man."

"Let him alone, Joy," I said. "He'll be fighting for his life soon. Don't complicate things."

She smiled archly. "Don't say I didn't warn you. I'm going to make Danny Mixon, and before the battle of the century. I don't think he'll be around afterward."

Damn her, I thought as she roll-hipped away. I was still staring hate after her when Ella approached and kneeled beside me. She had been chasing down the succulent land crabs, and had a bag filled with them.

"I heard part of that," she said. "Danny's a man, you know."

"And may not resist a direct offer?"

Ella's eyes were sleepy. "He'll be coming back up the beach soon."

"One of us-instead of her?"

"Is that cold-blooded, planning like this?"

I gave her half a smile. "Women have been planning such meetings since the beginning of time."

"But-"

"Afraid?" Her mouth trembled. "I guess I am."

"We talked it over," I reminded her. "We decided if Danny was such an idiot, we'd have to make the first move, remember?"

"I know, but it doesn't help. Suppose-suppose he doesn't want to love either of us?"

I said, "We'll work at it."

She held out a hand to me. "I have a shell-pink on one side, gray on the other. Shall I toss it."

"I'll take-gray."

Ella hesitated, then spun the bit of shell into the air. We followed it with our eyes, not breathing. The gray side was up.

I let my breath sigh out. "I-now that it's up to me, I'm not so sure."

Ella seemed relieved. "Now who's being silly? I don't-mind; Julie, really. In fact, I'd rather wait and let you t-tell me if-if Danny's-"

"Gentle? He will be, Ella-I'm certain he will be."

I wasn't certain at all, but I had to go through with it now. We'd crossed the point of no return.

Ella scooped up the bag. "He's coming. You just have time to get to the coral."

"Wish me luck," I said.

Ella caught my hand. "I do, Julie. You know I do."

Then it was all up to me. I hurried to the coral spire we'd chosen for the ambush. Once behind it, we-Danny and I-would be sheltered from the view of anyone looking that way. I came around into its shadow and waited. Danny's approaching footsteps matched the beating of my heart, quick and heavy.

I stepped into his path. "Hello."

He stopped. "Hello-again."

"I picked the spot," I said. "It's private here."

Danny wiped at his sun-bronzed cheeks. "Julie-I don't need mothering now. I don't need nursing, either."

I didn't have to tiptoe to reach his mouth. I shook my head. "I know every argument you have in mind-that you're no good, that you're an alcoholic, that you've nothing left to take from-and you'll top it all off with that bit about your just being available."

"Isn't that it?" He said.

I hesitated. "Danny-I won't say this would have happened in other circumstances. It wouldn't have happened while I was with Jim. While he was my husband, there couldn't be anyone else. If you had come along then, I would have ignored you."

His eyes were clear and steady. "And now?"

"Now he's dead. As far as we're concerned, so is the world. We're alive-you and I."

"Am I alive, Julie Curtis?"

"You're being born again, this time through your own desire to live. You're getting a second chance-and so am I. Let's live, and love."

"Julie-"

I didn't have to tiptoe to reach his mouth. His lips were warm and soft. His arms slid around me, holding me easily, gently. His mouth moved away as he tried again.

"If you-"

"Shut up," I murmured. "Words were always weak things. Now they're useless."

My fingers stroked across the back of his neck, tightened to bring his face down to mine. This time his mouth wasn't soft, but hard, hard, owning to breathe flame into my own. My breasts flattened against his chest; my hips, my thighs reached to his, first exploring, then locking fiercely to him.

His hands searched across the small of my back, knowing the tense muscles, the swell of my hips, and he held tightly to me as we drifted to the sand together. Danny's body was white and gold and scented with musky maleness. My breasts were proud, offering themselves to his touch; there was bright sun on the marble of my stomach, bright sun on my furry mound. I was a woman again, taking, taking-in soft flame and dark comfort.

It was gentle, gentle, a wonder spinning deeper and deeper-a tenderness so magnificent, so intense that it became flesh-locked ecstasy that shook me, shattered me in spiraling glory.

From very far away, a wind blew. Somewhere in the distance, waves kissed at a dim shore. Very slowly, the world stopped spinning. The wind crept closer and the waves whispered nearer.

"Danny-" I whispered, "oh, my Danny."

He stirred, and I stirred with him.

"I love you, Julie Curtis," he said.

Lightly, my fingertips made a path through his hair. "I know, I know."

"I have never loved before."

"Only in other times, in gone times and gone places, "I said.

"So it doesn't count."

"It doesn't count, Danny."

"Now-now should be forever," he said against my cheek.

"It will be."

"Yes," he said, "yes, Julie-my darling."

Then we didn't talk. We listened to the wind and to the sea, and to our own breathing, and our forever stretched out beside us and before us. I told myself we'd never look back to what had been.

Nor to what might have been.

Joy Santee came across the campsite to me. She looked at me for a long moment, then said spitefully: "You did it. You look so damned bubbly you make me sick."

Ella half-stifled a giggle, and Joy turned on her. "You-what have you got to be happy about?"

"I'm happy for Julie," Ella said.

Joy stamped a foot. "Everybody-but everybody-has flipped. Don't you think you're in love with Danny, too? Doesn't it bother you that Julie made it with him?"

Ella said softly, "Not in the least, but you wouldn't understand."

"Oh wouldn't I?" Joy's face was ugly. "I understand you both claim to be in love with him, that you're planning to set up a cute husband-sharing act. Think you'll get away with it? The hell you will. Wait until I've had my ins with Danny Mixon."

Ella stared at her. "But-he wouldn't."

"Oh no; not much. Listen, no itchy-tailed women on this island are going to hoard a man-even if they could. And they can't. You show me a male who won't bed something new, the first chance he gets."

"Not Danny," Ella said flatly. "Danny won't."

"You idiot!" Joy snapped. "You'd better hope to hell he will. If he won't, where do you think that leaves you?"

Ella looked down at her hands. "I-I don't care. As long as he's happy with Julie-"

Joy waved both hands in the air. "Happy, happy-my ass."

I nudged Ella. "Let her rave. She knows she's missed the boat."

Joy snarled at me and switched-away. I counted the faces around the fire-Ella and me and Joy; Mary Tetson sweating over the cook pots, Helen Fergus and Jessie Marawski; sullen Eve Short; Claudia and Bess and Ilsa-colorless and with so little personality that they hadn't figured much in the island society. Elena Marquez was off with Zell in the forest. That left the Japanese girls-Michiko, Sako, Kyoko. They'd be at their raft. Danny was training. All present-or accounted for.

I thought of the raft, of the escape it implied, when and if it was ever finished and launched. Some of us would have to try it, I supposed. Some of us were unhappy, discontented; so much so that we'd risk our lives at sea, rather than remain. Was it all because of Zane's cruelty? There was also the sexual imbalance, the shortage of men.

And something else. If there was a man for each of us, wouldn't some of the couples have worked incessantly to return to the world they knew?

"Position" would beckon, as would "prestige." Wasn't most of mankind so bound to rabbit-warren society and symbols that they couldn't be content to just live?

Among us now, who would want to leave-if Zell allowed it?

Zell himself? Certainly not. Absolute monarch, sex-driven, soulless, mindless, Zell was master here, happy as he could be anywhere on earth.

Joy Santee? Of course, she wanted to leave. Outside, she could put a price tag on being a woman again.

Jessie Marawski? Twisted man-woman, she might not want to go back to a society that hated her kind.

Eve Short. She was in love, bad discarded the teachings of her past. He sexuality had found release here, and maybe she had mistaken passion for a finer emotion.

Elena Marquez, girl-woman. In time, she might miss the gaiety she'd left behind, the youth she had lost. Elena might go.

And Helen Fergus, loved by a woman and possibly loving back. The night would come when Zell would tear her away from Jessie. Being taken by him could either drive her forever into the shadow world of homosexuality or release her. Would she want to leave the island?

Faye Herman-definitely. Faye was push-button oriented, gossip-starved. Faye was suburbia. She would go.

Mary Tetson? Not so sure. She was aging, needing to be needed. She wanted to accomplish something in the world; why? To make up for the lack of good in her past? Mary might decide to stay on here.

The others? The Japanese and the others? Escapees all, frantic to get away.

That left Ella and Danny and me.

None of us had anything-or anyone-to return to.

I stared into the cook fire, knowing that I was building upon dreams, there might not be a world out there for any of us, that the raft was yet unfloated, that Zell may have discovered it and was only biding his time.

And even if the raft got away, the sea was vast and merciless. Its riders could starve or die of thirst; they could be swept away by angry waves. And if they ever reached land, what they'd find was only a guess.

"Julie?"

"Yes, Ella."

"Was he-was he-gentle."

"He was. He is."

"That's-wonderful," she murmured.

I put my hand on her smooth warm arm. "Ella, go to him. Go to him right now. Find out for yourself."

"I-I can't. Not so-so casually."

I squeezed her arm. "All right. I'll take you to him, then."

"You-you'd do that? You'd."

"Do anything for you," I said. "And for Danny. Come on."

We found him in the gathering twilight, alone by the edge of the sea that was being stained by the setting sun.

"Danny," I said quickly, before I lost my courage, "it-this is offbeat, I know. But-but if I don't mind, you shouldn't. I brought Ella to you. Please-please love her, Danny."

A shadow was across his face. I couldn't read his eyes. "Julie, you're flesh and fire, snowflakes and ease. No man could ask more."

Ella tried to tug free. I held to her. Swiftly, I thumbed apart the knot that held Ella's halter in place. Her fine breasts sprang free, gleaming in the scarlet light.

"She's beautiful, Danny," I whispered. "She's beautiful and fine and sweet. I love her; I want you to love her, too."

Ella was quivering all over. "J-Julie-don't-leave me.

"Not ever," I said. "Not now and not ever."

When I slipped off Ella's shorts, she said to him: "I'm a Negro."

"You're a lovely girl." He said.

I moved back from them, moved away and sat down, a watcher in the sand. I didn't feel guilty, this time. I didn't feel anything but warmth, a glow that spread through me as Danny took Ella in his arms and lowered her tenderly to the beach.

She was dark and rounded bronze in the crimson rays of the sinking sun. She was curling midnight against the white sands, molded flame, supine, eager, waiting. Danny kneeled over her. Softly, he touched his lips to her hair; lightly, his mouth moved over her pulsating flesh.

Each step was a slow step to another one. Ella's fear dimmed, the tenseness fled, and they were together. Her teeth were locked into his lip as she lifted to him, as she thrust and lifted and writhed with him. The drumbeat that rocked them, caused a quaking in my stomach. I felt it grow faster and louder and more wild until it filled the universe, until it burst with a spasm of mighty thunder. On Christ! How could I let her have him?

Warm and salt, Ella's tears glistened on Danny's cheek and clung damply to his mouth. She had half-words for him, sweet, stumbling words that attested to all things her body had already said.

Danny didn't say anything. He just lay there-spent.

It wasn't working out-I wanted to vomit; to cry; to be beaten for my stupidity. I could never share him with anyone. He was what I loved and valued more than anyone else in the world. I might have lost him now. What if he loved Ella? How could he respect me?

As I looked at their two bodies still joined, I wondered if I had thrown away the greatest love I could ever have. If I, by some chance, hadn't, I would fight for Danny! I'd be so good for him that he'd never look at another woman again.

That chance, I'd have to take. I thought again, watching Ella and Danny sigh away from each other, I thought that women always plan the future, even when there's no promise of one. There would be no future for me, if Danny didn't win over Kane Zell. And I didn't win over Ella.