CHAPTER FOUR: FISHING MADE EASY?
The astronaut extended his hand and helped his genie out of the car before he interlaced their fingers and walked with her towards the entrance of the Lodge. When he held open the door for her, he couldn't help admiring her looks. Her hair was made up artistically, her dress a vision of pale blue and cream-coloured lace and satin, her hand in his felt soft and delicate and she smelled like the ancient mysteries of the orient.
Jeannie's heart was beating so hard and loud that she was surprised her master couldn't hear and feel it when he held her hand. He had taken her out for dinner and dancing many, many times, usually when he felt she deserved a treat like when a full month had passed and she hadn't got him into any kind of trouble. And he always helped her into and out of the car and offered her his arm. Her master was an old-fashioned gentleman that way and she loved it, whenever that certain attentiveness was directed at her, but there was something about tonight... he had never held her hand in a romantic way before. And she felt as if she were on a real date tonight. And as much as she steeled herself she was helpless against the rising tide of hope. The entire day felt like a dream to her starting with her waking up in his arms, making new friends over breakfast and then he had helped her cleaning up afterwards with a simple declaration that she was also on holidays and they would share the chores, even if it meant doing things the hard and time-consuming way. Doing the dishes in a bucket had never been such fun before. And then they had engaged their wits in a fierce game of chess. She had finally beaten him hours later, which he had acknowledged with his usual bewildered aplomb. Really, he should know better by now; after all her people had played Chatrang, an early version of the modern chess, long, long before Europeans had discovered it for themselves and declared it a game for kings.
"Would you like to wait here or come with me when I try to reach Jim?" he asked her in the lobby. Jeannie giggled softly. As if she would let him out of her sight for even one moment! Her master looked far too handsome for his own good. If she wasn't watchful, he would be surrounded by the most beautiful women faster than she could blink.
"I'll come with you," she replied and reached timidly for his hand and was rewarded for her act of faith when she felt his hand clasped hers in a firm grip and he lead her over to the reception desk to make a phone call to Atlanta. Unfortunately the phone booth was quite small so Jeannie had to wait outside after all, so she picked up a magazine from a table nearby and browsed it. Oh, look: Rita Mitchell had found her seventh husband. She tensed up, when a male voice whispered into her ear from behind.
"My name is Bond. Jeffrey Bond, Commander. And you are, miss?"
Looking for her master for help she saw that he had turned his back on her. She turned around.
"I'm Gordon. Jeannie Gordon, former WAF." She quoted coolly back, hoping to discourage the man who looked nothing like Sean Connery.
"Former WAF... have you been naughty, Jeannie Gordon? How delicious. Why don't you tell me all about your misdeeds over drinks and dinner?"
"I think not." Relieved Jeannie sagged when she heard her master's voice. Immediately she tried to move closer to him, but found her arm was gripped tightly by the other man.
"She with you, Mr...?"
"Major Anthony Nelson, Air Force."
"I see. Commander Jeffrey Bond. So have a nice evening, major, I'm sure you'll find some other company."
"I believe it's for the lady to decide with whom she likes to spend the evening, sir."
"Sure. And as long as she makes up her mind, we'll have Vodka Martini shaken, not stirred at the bar." He all but dragged Jeannie away, while her master looked as if he would like nothing more than to further argue the point, but was prohibited by rank and custom. The last thing Jeannie saw was a beautiful woman slinking up to her master. She frowned and tried to keep up with the commander. If her master didn't come to her aid, she would make sure the commander learnt that he was not god's gift to women and then she would take care of the female interloper.
Tony stiffened, when he felt a hand running up his arm and breathed in a cloud of expensive perfume.
"Looks, as if this battle has been won by the navy, major." He turned his head and looked into the brown eyes of a most attractive woman closer to 45 than forty he guessed, but extremely well groomed to underplay her age. Her voice held a sensual timbre when she laughed softly.
"I'm Mrs. Alexander Wilcox III, please call me Rosalind."
"Major Tony Nelson." He relaxed a bit. She was married.
"The astronaut? What a pleasure. And here I was already looking forward to an extremely dull evening and suddenly you fall out of the sky." … and right into my life/arms. Tony completed the sentence in his mind. It wasn't as if he hadn't ever heard that line before.
"Now, since we're both stood up for the evening, why don't we make the best out of it and have dinner together, Tony?" She stepped closer and traced a well-manicured finger along his jaw. "In case you're worried about my husband, don't be. Every year we come out here for a couple of weeks. Alexander is after the small fishes and I'm after the big ones. And we both have our fun."
Gently Tony extracted himself from her clutches by taking a half step back. Gallantly he pressed a barely felt kiss on the back of her hand.
"Mrs. Wilcox, were the circumstances any different, I'd love to have dinner with you. But I'm afraid I've already swallowed another one's bait. Now, if you please excuse me, I have to win a war."
Incensed Mrs. Alexander Wilcox III balled her hands into fists and watched the handsome astronaut making a bee-line for the bar.
"Accept it, dear. Your days of easy fishing are coming to an end."
"Oh shut up, Alexander." She hissed. He chuckled.
"Don't be a poor loser. Shall we have dinner?" The elderly gentleman folded up his newspaper and stood up from the lobby's couch to offer his arm to her. Gracefully she accepted. After all there were still so many other fish for them to catch this season and they both knew it.
Tony rushed through the door and heard a loud crash. Immediately he looked for Jeannie and found her standing over her "kidnapper" who clutched his right ankle with both hands, his face a grimace of pain. His pristine dinner suit was decorated with the remnants of this evening's choices of desert that had been previously placed on the now upturned desert trolley.
An old man tried to reach for his cane lying on the floor and apologised profusely. He really should have put away his cane in a better way instead of simply leaning it against his chair where anyone could stumble over it. Another man with the airs of a doctor knelt down beside the commander. He prodded carefully and voiced his diagnosis.
"Well, Jeff. This one's sprained rather badly. Mr. Abernathy, may we prevail on your cane for a moment or two? It's best, if you lie down in your room and put some ice on your ankle before it swells, Jeff. If it's not okay by the day after tomorrow, call for me again."
"Of course. Commander Bond, I'm so awfully sorry." Helpfully old Mr. Abernathy held out his cane to the man on the floor. Putting up a good face on things the navy man accepted Tony's eager help getting him up. He yelped when he felt Tony's full weight on his good foot.
"Oh, I'm such a klutz, commander. My apologies."
The injured stiffened warily, when Tony came still closer under the disguise of being a clumsy helper and heard his quiet murmur.
"Don't you worry about Jeannie. I'll keep her company. Oh, by the way: she prefers champagne to Vodka Martini... And this is for gripping her arm tightly." He finished with an unforgiving voice.
Tony was all the good Samaritan, when he drove the cane into he injured foot. The unfortunate commander yelped louder.
"Doctor, I think it's best, if you take over for me. I don't seem to be particularly helpful tonight." Chagrined Tony addressed the small crowd around them.
He stepped back and embraced Jeannie with one arm, indicating rights of possession to every man in this room while trying to soothe the sore spot on her upper arm where she had been gripped. Jeannie leaned right into him, her face full of compassion for the injured.
"Oh, the poor man. He must be in such pain. I never wanted..."
"Be quiet, darling." Tony hissed through his teeth. "You're not insured. And they court-martial me for striking a fellow officer."
She giggled. He grinned. Both quickly schooled their expressions into compassion.
When the Wilcoxes appeared in the door, Alexander let his wife precede and paused to let the heavily limping commander and the doctor pass. When Jeannie saw her she turned a bit in her master's embrace and placed a proprietary hand on his chest. Her master was hers, not hers! With a tilt of her head she challenged her competition and felt satisfied when the other woman looked away.
Tony led her away after the show was over and the crowd dispersed, everyone murmuring about it and exchanging opinions on what exactly just happened and casting speculating glances at the "klutz" and the beauty on his arm. After all everyone knew everyone and each other's reputation at Little Bear Lake.
"Do you still want to have dinner?"
"Of course I do. What did Mr. Davis jr.'s manager say?"
"He'll see what he can do for us. If he has tickets to spare, he'll give us a ring here at the Lodge."
"That's wonderful, master. Thank you."
They let themselves be seated at their table and looked forward to the quiet rest of the evening. The food was good, the background music not to loud and the company simply wonderful. Amused Tony watched her animated gestures when she told him how she and Mozart became friends when he chased her around the dining table in 1780 and they decided spontaneously that they would blink to Vienna to attend the premiere of The Magic Flute within the next couple of days and perhaps visit some of their other special friends. And later, when he held her closely in his arms on the small dance floor and looked down into her sparkling eyes, he knew he was falling in love with her all over again.
And still later, when they had laid down in their sleeping bags and scooted closer to each other Tony couldn't help but say what was in his heart.
"Thank you, Jeannie. For a wonderful day."
"Oh, master. It was wonderful for me, too." She melted and pulled a hand out of her sleeping bag to find his, conveniently placed in the narrow space between them.
"Are you wearing a t-shirt?" He mentally kicked himself. He really was a klutz tonight, going like a bull at a gate.
"Yes...? Well, you seem most comfortable in your t-shirt and sleep shorts. So I thought I adapt to your style for this camping trip. Is it not right?" She withdrew her hand and buried herself deeper into the sleeping-bag.
He chuckled half sad, half amused. Only Jeannie...!
"It's perfect for this trip, Jeannie."
He bent over and gave her a soft, but lingering kiss goodnight and Jeannie blinked out the light.
tbc