’im and ’e knows it, so it bothers ’im. We both know the truth about the man.”
“We?”
“You and me, missy.”
Marisa smiled. “I guess we do, Mr. Lyle.”
He said, “You feel sorry for ’im don’t you?”
She closed her eyes to the warm sun. “Yes. He’s been trying so long and nothing’s happened for him. He works hard on his books but they just haven’t caught on. I guess I see myself in him to some extent. I had a hard time before my luck changed and I know how he feels. I know what he’s going through. Maybe I feel if … if I back off from him just now, when thing’s are going bad, it’s … it’s like saying he only matters to me if he’s doing well. You understand what I’m saying?”
Lyle dug his pipe into his worn tobacco pouch. “Aye, that I do. I was poor when I married Moira and it didn’t matter to ’er, but that was another time, in a different place than the one you are livin’ in. It’s nice of you to think that way, missy, but … well, I don’t want to be inteferin’ in yer affairs, so I’ll say it quickly then go about me business.”
He lit his pipe, inhaled deeply and put the burnt match in his pocket. “Got to be careful of fires, what with oil and petrol all abouts. I was sayin’ that your man must live ’is own life. You can’t do that fer ’im. Ask yerself what was ’e doin’ before you met ’im. He was eatin’ three meals a day and buttonin’ ’is underpants and pickin’ ’is nose. He didn’t need you. And that’s the thing to remember. You could walk away from ’im and ’es goin’ to survive. If ’e doesn’t, then that’s ’ow it’s meant to be. You think yer bein’ unselfish but all you’re doin’ is makin’ ’im more selfish with yer actions, you follow?”
Jack Lyle pointed the wet stem of his briar at her. “One more thing, missy. Life on the water’s taught me all I know and I can say this about yer man. ’Es ambitious, well and good, but that’s not the same as ’avin’ ability. Just ’cause you want somethin’ doesn’t mean God’s got to give it to ya. Yer man’s got a lot of wantin’ in ’im and I’m wonderin’ if that’s all ’e’s got. Just the wantin’ and not what it takes to make it come true.”
Marisa smiled weakly. “I’ve got to catch up to the others.”
“You do that, missy.”
“Do you always say what’s on your mind, Mr. Lyle?”
“Only when I find somebody worth talkin’ to, missy.”
Marisa looked ashore. Robert was staring at her and Lyle and that’s when she knew the two men would never get along.
She was right. Only hours later the hatred between them would cause the boat trip to end abruptly and bitterly.
It happened the next evening, just before dark. The day had been hot and on board The Drake tempers had been short. Larry’s music had begun to fray nerves and when Robert had asked him to turn it off the two had gotten into a shouting match. Marisa dropped an expensive earring into the canal and could only look behind her and curse as the boat continued on its way. Ellie spilled suntan lotion on a new skirt and ruined it. Nat misplaced several antique stickpins and a thorough search of the cabin hadn’t turned them up.
At dusk when the boat tied up in a cove Robert, tired and irritable from a particularly hard session of opening canal locks, was getting on everyone’s nerves. Jack Lyle had already gone ashore and disappeared in the woods, a practice of his whenever possible, rather than use the chemical toilet below. It was Nat Shields who, in charming and amusing fashion, told Robert the rest of them had taken a vote and voted that Robert go ashore for a walk and cool down. Nat offered to go with him while Marisa and Ellie washed a few clothes and Larry cooked supper. The two men would return in a half hour.
Ten minutes after the two had left the boat, Jack Lyle returned.
“Where’s Mr. Shields and Mr. Seldes Robert?” he asked.
Marisa, hanging a wet blouse