Nathan’s dark eyebrows lifted. He raked back his hair with his fingers, feigning complete puzzlement. “What? That you have breasts? Honestly, Lydia, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t know that already.” He scooped up their native garments with one hand and took Lydia’s wrist in the other. “Come along. We did say we’d be back in the village by sunset. If we don’t hurry, they’ll all come looking for us.”
Shaking her head all the while, Lydia let herself be hustled along the path before she had a change of heart.
Nathan and Lydiaspent the first part of the evening—their last on Upolu—with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson in their small thatched home beside the church they had come to serve. Though the building materials differed significantly, the Wilsons’ house was familiar in that it was built to model thepapalagiidea of a suitable dwelling. Rectangular in shape, their home had a sloping roof, four walls for securing privacy, open squares at eye level meant to be windows but which held no glass, and a door. Mrs. Wilson had her house servant, a lovely young girl with blue-black hair and copper-colored skin, prepare a European-style dinner with chicken and rice that they had taken from the stores of theAvonlei.They sat at a table, on rough-hewn chairs, used all the proper utensils with their meal, and made excruciatingly correct and boring conversation.
As soon as they could politely excuse themselves, Nathan and Lydia did so. They were hardly a stone’s throw from the missionary’s home when Fa’amusami, the girl who had served their dinner, darted out from behind a palm and blocked their path. Her almond-shaped eyes fairly danced with the laughter she just managed to smother with the back of her hand.
“Come,” she said. “I make special treat for you. This way.”
Fa’amusami led them along the white coral sand, through a grove of palms, to herfale,the airy, beehive-like structure that the islanders called home. Oval in shape, thefalewas constructed with the trunks of palms that were driven vertically into the sand at wide intervals, some as large as five feet. Thefalethen was entirely open at ground level and the trunks supported an impressive dome of thatch. Steady ocean breezes swept through the dwelling and when it rained, mats were lowered from their position near the ceiling to keep it out. It was beautifully simplistic, perfectly functional, and so suited to the environment of the island that the Wilsons’ house seemed hopelessly out of place.
Fa’amusami introduced Lydia and Nathan to her father and mother, three younger sisters, and two brothers. Lydia’s tongue tripped over the names but they were scrupulously polite not to laugh at her. She and Nathan were servedpalusamiand ate it with their hands, licking the thick coconut cream from their fingertips and the corner of their lips as even the youngest children did. The bakedtaroon which it was served had a flavor unlike anything Lydia had tasted. Nathan watched her eat it delicately, learning each nuance of its succulent and strangely sweet and starchy flavor, and he thought about her kisses, how she touched his mouth in the same manner, learning the taste of him. He looked away quickly and caught Fa’amusami’s father, Fiame, watching him, an approving, knowing look in his dark eyes.
They sat on mats on the floor and drank sparingly ofkava,an intoxicating drink made from pepper plants native to the islands. Fiame shared stories about the islands that had been passed to him. He spoke with great skill, for he was amatai,a chief of lesser rank who specialized in oratory and who, on occasions of great importance, spoke for the highest-ranking village chiefs. They learned nopapalagiman, excepting Hugh Wilson, had ever been invited to their dwelling. Fiame did not trust thepapalagiwith his daughters, he told them, but since Nathan clearly had eyes for no one but his wife, Fiame made an exception of Fa’amusami’s request.
“One ofpapalagikill woman on Savai’i,” Fa’amusami explained to Nathan and Lydia as she walked with them to the harbor. “Father very careful after he hear of death. Very horrible. Wrists cut with shell used like knife. Stupid. No woman here take her life like that. Notfa’a Samoa.”
“Then it was a great honor you gave us tonight,” Lydia said. She took Fa’amusami’s slim brown hand in hers. “Thank you so much.” She glanced at Nathan, expecting him to echo her thanks to their hostess. He was frowning deeply, his blue-ringed gray eyes perfectly impenetrable.
“Excuse me,” he said abruptly, dropping his hand from Lydia’s waist. “I won’t be long.” With no explanation, he walked briskly back to thefaleand sought out Fiame.
“She reminded me of someone,” Lydia told Nathan much later that evening. They had been rowed back to theAvonlei,not in one of the ship’s crafts, but in the nativefautasi,a many-oared boat that skimmed the ocean’s surface like a water spider. In the morning, perhaps before they even woke, theAvonleiwould be sailing out of Apia Harbour, on the last leg of its journey to Sydney. They had only just left the island and already it seemed that her memories were more dreamlike than not.
“Who?” he asked. He was standing at the shaving basin, wiping the last bit of lather from his face. He had gotten into the habit of shaving at night when he knew how he was going to spend his time in bed with Lydia. The ritual was so imprinted in Lydia’s mind that color suffused her face whenever she happened to glance at his shaving mug.
Nathan looked in her direction and realized Lydia was paying absolutely no attention to what he was doing. Not only wasn’t she blushing, she had done nothing about getting out of her day dress. The collar was still modestly buttoned to her throat and she hadn’t undone her braid. She was sitting on the edge of the bunk, her hands folded quietly in her lap, while her very busy thoughts caused a furrow to form between the gentle arc of her eyebrows.
Nathan tossed the towel he’d been using on top of the washstand and went to sit beside her. “What’s this all about?” he asked. “Have you remembered something?”
“I don’t know…I’m not sure. Fa’amusami. I keep thinking I’ve met her before. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?” She looked at Nathan now, her frown still in place. “I’ve certainly never been to Samoa before.”
“Not as far as I know. Here, let me play the lady’s maid.” He lifted Lydia’s feet, first one, then the other, taking off each shoe in turn. She didn’t even protest as he reached under her gown and rolled down her stockings. “You used to have a personal maid, someone who did this sort of thing for you, I suspect. Or at least helped you with your clothes. Do you recall anything about her?”
Lydia shook her head. “Nothing.”
“The case could be made that she and Fa’amusami share some of the same features. Almond-shaped dark eyes, black hair, a softness in the way they speak. Perhaps it’s Pei Ling you’re thinking of.”
“Pei Ling.” Lydia said the name slowly, trying it out. It was completely unfamiliar. “She was my maid?”
“Your maid and something more. I think she was your greatest protector, save Samuel.” Nathan was a little surprised to discover that in all he had told Lydia about her past, he had never mentioned Pei Ling. Had he done it purposely, afraid that she would remember everything if he spoke of her? Knowing Lydia’s nature, and the things Samuel had shared offhandedly one time about how Lydia had met Pei Ling, Nathan suspected the Chinese girl was more friend than servant.
“Did she like you?” asked Lydia. She pushed at her gown, covering her bare calves, while Nathan massaged her feet.
Nathan raised a single eyebrow at her display of modesty. It was really too bad, he thought, that thefa’a Samoadid not have a more far-reaching influence. “Like me?” he repeated. “That’s an odd query.”
“You said she was my protector. I wondered if she helped me elope with you.”
“No. She didn’t do that. But I think she trusted me.” At least she had. Nathan couldn’t imagine what Pei Ling might think of him now. The letter he had written her, the explanation he had hoped she would share with Samuel, was it enough to make him less offensive in Pei Ling’s eyes? He wished he knew. Pei Ling’s thinking could very well be a hint of what he might expect from Lydia some day. “She was dedicated to you,” he said. “If she liked me, then I’m not so certain she likes me now.”
“But then she doesn’t know you as I do,” said Lydia.
Nathan didn’t say anything to that. Moving Lydia’s feet to one side, he unfastened the buttons at her throat and eased the gown over her shoulders. Her complexion had become rosy from her time in the sun and there were freckles across her collarbones. He leaned forward and kissed each one.
Lydia let him push her back gently on the bed. She raised her hips to allow Nathan to remove her gown and slip it down her legs. He kissed the dark shadow of her navel through her chemise as he worked the dress off her. “Tell me about Pei Ling,” she said. “Perhaps it will help me recall something.”
Nathan dropped Lydia’s gown on the floor and, a moment later, her pantalettes. He sighed and sat up fully. Only one of them was engaged in the task at hand and it was a most unsatisfactory arrangement. “I suppose I must,” he said. His voice hinted at regret, though whether it was because of what he had to give up immediately or what he could lose in the future was unclear to him.
“I really don’t know very much about her, not from anything you’ve said, but Samuel once told me something about you and Pei Ling...”
