Christopher Nicole: Her Name Will Be Faith

James and Suzanne, the two younger Robson children, came in. “Hi, everybody.” They gave a general greeting. “Hi, Dale,” Suzanne added softly.

“Oh, hi there, Suzanne. How’re you doing?”

“Okay, I guess.” She sidled over to the bench around the breakfast table where he was sitting and parked herself on the end, trapping him. She was plump and curvy with an uncooked pastry complexion, but her eyes were gentle and smiling and everyone knew her for a sweetheart.

Dale made a big effort to talk about subjects which might interest her, knowing he’d regret it later when she’d had a drink or two. She’d never needed much encouragement.

Jo and Marcia helped Babs to carry the serving dishes through to the antique sideboard in the dining room where Big Mike sharpened the carving knife and set about the meat. When everyone had a heaped plate in front of them and Mike had said grace, Neal Robson rose to his feet. “Before we eat,” he said, “I have something to say.”

“Make it brief,” Mike recommended; he and Neal had been in the army in Korea together.

Neal grinned at him. “We have done it,” he said.

They stared at him.

“Bought that place in Eleuthera,” he explained. “The one you’ve been trying to talk me into for years.”

“Well, son of a gun,” Mike said. “I never thought you’d go through with it.”

“I’m so scared,” Meg squealed. “I think it’s a crazy idea.”

“You’ll love it,” Babs told her. “Oh, I am so pleased. We’ll be down there together… oh, the swimming, and the snorkelling…”

“And the diving,” Dale added.

“And the sun,” Jo put in.

“We’ll be down in July, as usual,” Mike said. “When are you planning on getting there?”

“Well,” Neal said. “We rather thought we’d go down next month. According to your Lawson, that house hasn’t been lived in for ten years.”

“At least that,” Mike agreed.

“It’ll be full of crawly bugs,” Dale grinned.

“Ooh!” Meg shrilled.

“Dale!” Babs remonstrated. “All you have to do, Meg dear, is shut the place up and have it fumigated.”

“Yeah, but there’s a lot to do to it,” Neal said.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Meg said again.

“What about?” Mike inquired.

“Well, snakes, and…”

“There are no dangerous snakes in the Bahamas,” Mike declared.

“But some of them are so big.”

“Chicken snakes,” Mike said reassuringly. “They won’t trouble you.”

“But what about things like hurricanes?” Meg squeaked.

“Hurricanes? They’re no hassle.”

“Oh, but when one reads the newspapers…”

“You don’t want to believe everything you read in the newspapers,” Mike announced. “We had a hurricane down there. Three years ago.”

“Well,” Babs said. “I don’t think it was actually a hurricane. Didn’t they call it a tropical depression, or something?”

“It was a hurricane,” Mike said firmly. “Don’t you remember that wind howling?”

“And the rain,” Marcia said, squeezing Benny’s hand. “So much got in we had to sleep in the lounge.”

“It must have been awful, but awful. Weren’t you terrified?” Meg asked.

The Donnellys exchanged glances.

“I’ll confess I was a bit worried at first, but providing one is sensible and takes the proper precautions, like boarding up the windows, why…” Mike spread his hands expansively. “It’s a doddle.”

“Read three books by candlelight,” Dale said.

“You read through a hurricane?” James Robson was aghast.

“Sure. Not easy, mind you, because the candle flame kept blowing out.”

Marcia kicked him under the table but the Robsons didn’t realize they were being roasted.

“Believe me,” Mike declared. “Hurricanes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”

“Then how come people die in them?” James wanted to know. “They do, you know.”

“Oh, sure they do. When they’re living in some shantytown in Haiti and the whole house comes down on them. It shouldn’t ever happen to a proper building.”

“Anyway,” Dale said, “hurricanes hardly ever hit the same place again for years and years. So Eleuthera has got to be the safest place in the Bahamas for a long time to come.”

“I think you’re talking about lightning,” Marcia objected. “So how come the house gets struck by lightning every year?”

“You get struck by lightning?” Meg gasped.

“Does no more damage than that storm,” Mike asserted.

Jo remained silent as the conversation continued. Perhaps she was just irritated with Michael, but the whole family was being a bit over the top tonight. She could remember that storm. It certainly hadn’t been a hurricane; the winds had never risen above 5o mph. Yet it had been terrifying, out on Dolphin Point, with the waves crashing on the rocks on one side and rolling up the beach on the other, and the wind howling, and the trees bending, and the rain teeming down as the thunder and lightning had been continuous. They had all been scared, not least Big Mike; she had been more afraid for the children than herself, had first really felt the bitterness that she should be there, coping, while Michael was racing Esmeralda in the relatively calm waters off Bermuda. But in fact no real damage had been done, although Mike was gradually increasing the wind strength every time he talked about it. She wondered what his reaction would be to a real hurricane.

“Hello there!” The front door opened and Michael stalked in. “Not too late for some food, I hope?”

“Mike!” His father leapt up and seized his hand; he was the only person allowed to call his eldest son by the diminutive, as Michael Donnelly junior was determined to grow away from his Irish roots. “Jo says you had trouble.”

“Defective gear.” He kissed Babs, blew one at his wife. “Kids in bed?”

“Yes,” she said.

The rest of the party was already on their dessert, but Mike provided his son with a plate of roast beef, and the conversation became concerned with yachts and racing. Mike could hardly wait for the meal to end. As soon as they left the table, he pushed Michael into the little study. “Boy, am I glad you’re back.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “Problems?”

“You have got to be kidding. Calthrop White wants to float a stock issue.”

“So?”

“By August.”

Michael sat down and lit a cigarette. “He has to be nuts.”

“I told him. But he has to have it going. He’s trying to buy some British TV station. Seems the franchise comes up in the fall and he reckons he can get it for $125 million.”

“What the hell does he want another network for?”

“He’s ambitious, I guess. So there’s work to be done. He’s our best customer.”

“But, Dad…”

“Okay, okay. It shouldn’t interfere with the racing. I’m letting Palmer handle most of the work on it. Now let me give you the big one.” Michael raised his eyebrows. “Bigger than that?”

Mike winked. “For us, maybe. I had a phone call from Lawson this morning. Let me tell you what he has in mind.”

Michael listened, pulling his chin. “Sure it’s not one of his get-rich-quick schemes?”

“Sure it is. But this one could just work.”

“A million bucks? Can we raise that?”

“Could be. What do you think?”

“A million bucks,” Michael said again. “Holy shit, Dad, that wouldn’t be too bad. You talked to Babs?”

“I haven’t talked to anyone except you. But if you’re for it…”

Michael Donnelly considered a moment longer, then stretched out his hand. “Count me in. But… just let’s keep it between ourselves for the time being, eh?”