The Golden Angel Page 7

“You may not, but I do.” Charterhouse suddenly laughed aloud. “I sound like a wise old bird, don’t I? But you’re alone out here, or we’re alone together, and things happen between men and women. Sometimes things that shouldn’t.”

  “There’s no need for me to be afraid of you, is there, Stephen?”

  “No, there really isn’t.” He reached out and ran his hand over her hair as it hung down her back. It was a natural gesture, and he rested his hand on her shoulder, saying, “You’ve been very good for me, Erin.”

  “Good for you? How’s that?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve become a bit cynical about women.”

  “Have you known many women, Stephen?”

  The directness of the question made Charterhouse blink. “Well, that’s coming right out with it,” he said wryly. “Not all that many really—but my experience hasn’t been perfect.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s is. Did you love any of them?”

  “Twice I thought I did, but both times it turned out I was mistaken.” He picked up the cup of tea and stared down into it as if it were a crystal ball. “Life is a funny thing,” he murmured. There was economy in the straight lines of his face, and his light blue eyes seemed troubled. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Life takes a different shape at times. At least mine does. It’s like a tree. It puts out new branches, but the old branches die. I guess that’s what my life has been, a constant pattern of discard and new growth. Old things pass away, and new things come.” He was pensive for a moment, far away from her and absorbed in some deep-seated memory. He shook his shoulders and smiled. “I don’t know why I’m mooning on like this. Life is fun, but it’s also quiet when the goldfish die.”

  Erin suddenly laughed. “What in the world does that mean?”

  “About the goldfish? I don’t know. It’s something a friend of mine used to say. It’s rather silly, but one of those things that has stuck in my mind. I guess that’s about the depth of my philosophy. Come on, let’s sit down. We’ve done all we can to this plane anyhow.” He slapped the side of the craft almost as one would slap the side of a favorite horse. They moved over and sat down in the shade of the aircraft, and she filled their cups of tea from the pot she had brought out with them. For a while they sat talking about the final repairs on the plane, and finally she said, “Do you ever think about God, Stephen?”

  “I did when the plane was going down. You can bet on that.” His tone grew serious, and he said, “Shakespeare said once, ‘This fell sergeant, death, is strict in his arrest.’ ”

  Erin said at once, “Shakespeare said a lot about death. I remember Caesar said to his wife, ‘Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.’ ”

  “Right. And Edgar said to his father in King Lear, ‘Men must endure their going hence, even as their coming hither; ripeness is all.’ ”

  “I never liked Lear, but I remember in Twelfth Night there was a song. I forget who sang it. I don’t know the tune, but I always loved the words:

  “Come away, come away, death,

  And in sad cypress let me be laid;

  Fly away, fly away, breath;

  I am slain by a fair cruel maid.”

  “How do you happen to know that? It must be a rather obscure passage. I don’t remember it at all.”

  “I don’t know. My father used to read Shakespeare to us a lot, and some of the passages just stuck in my mind. That one did.”

  “ ‘I am slain by a fair cruel maid,’ ” Stephen echoed. He smiled then and reached out and pinched her arm. “Some day there’s going to be a whole field full of corpses slain by the fair maid Erin Winslow.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly! That doesn’t happen anymore.”

  “I suppose not.”

  Erin studied him for a moment, then said, “You didn’t answer my question really.”

  “About being afraid and thinking about God? Any man of sense does. When the plane was going down, I was pretty sure that was the end of it, and I thought of two things. One was another line from Shakespeare: ‘A man can die but once; we owe God a death.’ And the other was from the Bible: ‘As it is appointed unto men once to die.’ Well, at least I think it’s from the Bible.”

  “Yes, it is. From the book of Hebrews, chapter nine, verse twenty-seven—and the last of it is, ‘But after this the judgment.’ ”

  “Well, I thought about death and the judgment a lot. It seemed I was in that dive for a long time, and all I could think of was ‘This is the end of it.’ ”

  Erin was watching the ground. An ant was trundling some kind of a burden along, striving to move it from one place to another. Its efforts seemed to have no purpose, for it was not food, as far as Erin could tell. She put her finger down in the ant’s way, and it began trying to get around the obstacle. “The Masai have a myth about death—just a story, of course.”

  “What is it?”

  “They say when the world began, every animal had a task to do, even the chameleon. When the first man was made he wandered alone, and he worried because he couldn’t remember yesterday. Well, God saw this, and He sent the chameleon to him, saying there would never be such a thing as death—that there would always be a tomorrow and that the days would never stop. But after this God sent an egret with a different message, saying that a thing called death would come to man, and he said, ‘Whichever message gets to the ears of man first will be the true one.’ ”

  Erin looked up and her countenance was still as she spoke. There was an innate patience in her at times that intrigued Charterhouse. “But the chameleon was lazy. He lagged so much that the egret got there first. And the egret gave the message of death, and ever since then men have died.”

  “Fascinating story. You know so much about the Masai.”

  “I guess I do. They’re such fine people. The most courageous I’ve ever known, and they never lie. They just tell the truth.”

  For some reason her words caught at Stephen Charterhouse. He grew very still and finally said in a voice no more than a whisper, “That’s a fine thing—truth. We need more of it in this world.”

  ****

  Erin ran into the house closely followed by Charterhouse. She found her parents sitting at the kitchen table and burst out excitedly, “The plane’s all fixed! It’s ready to fly again, and Stephen says he’ll take me up if you’ll give your permission.”

  “Now, I didn’t really say that, Erin,” Charterhouse spoke up at once. He came to stand in front of the Winslows and smiled at the young woman’s excitement. “What I said was I’ll take the plane up and test it out thoroughly and then if it’s in perfect running order, with your parents’ permission, I’ll take you up for a short flight. But I’ll go first.”

  “Please, can I do it, Daddy?” Erin cried. “I want to so much!”

  Barney cast a glance at his wife, who nodded slightly. “I never trust those things, but I suppose it’s no more dangerous than being out in lion country.”

  “Not a bit of it,” Charterhouse said. “I’ll test my crate out well before I’ll risk Erin in it. Come along, Erin. You can watch me take off anyway.”

  The two left at once, and as soon as they were gone, Katie said, “I’m afraid of that thing.”

  “So am I, to be truthful,” Barney agreed. “I’d rather face a charging rhino than risk my life in that thing.”

  “We don’t really know much about this man, do we?”

  “Not much. He doesn’t talk a great deal about his past. But I did talk to Giles Conboy in Nairobi. He says that Charterhouse is a careful pilot, that he avoids every risk. Not at all a daredevil.”

  “Well, that’s something, I suppose.” Katie shook her head and said quietly, “I worry about Erin.”

  “You think she’s drawn to Stephen?”

  “Why, of course she is! Why wouldn’t she be?”

  Barney shook his head and lifted his hands in a gesture of resignation. “How should I know? I’m not an expert on romance.”

  Leaning over, Katie took
his hand. “Well, you were once—and you still are at times.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes. You have your moments.”

  The two sat there holding hands thinking of old times, but gradually their thoughts returned to their daughter, who suddenly seemed very vulnerable. Both were aware that she had no experience at all with men, and they were equally aware that Charterhouse was an attractive man and, though he did not boast of it, must have known something about women by experience. They sat there quietly, in the way that happily married people have of knowing each other’s thoughts without words being spoken.

  ****

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this? It can be dangerous.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Stephen!” Erin’s face glowed with excitement. They were standing beside the plane, and she had put on the extra helmet he had brought for her. The goggles were up on her head ready to be pulled down, and she was quivering with anticipation. “Come on, let’s go. I can’t wait.”

  “All right. You get in the front.” He moved to help her, but she put her foot on the step and agilely mounted into the cockpit before he could get to her. He climbed in the back seat and looked at Tallboy, whom he had instructed how to turn the propeller to get the engine started. He waved his hand, and the tall black man gave the propeller a powerful spin.

  Charterhouse’s hands on the controls were sure, and the engine at once burst into action. Tallboy backed away abruptly, his eyes wide. Then he turned and ran away as the gust from the propeller stirred up clouds of pale dust. Charterhouse gently advanced the throttle, and the plane moved forward.

  In the front seat Erin fastened her seat belt as Stephen had taught her and clenched her hands tightly together. She had looked forward to this flight all night long, after Stephen had told her the previous day that the plane appeared to be totally sound. Now as the craft picked up speed, her heart beat faster. She kept her eyes on the ground, which suddenly dropped away from beneath her. It fell farther and farther, and with delight she turned to watch her house as it grew smaller almost magically. Turning to the other side, she watched the fields below and was delighted to see the stables and the creek that held the homestead as if in the crook of an elbow, all lying beneath her. She had traversed every square foot of this ground many, many times, but now as the plane rose she could see all of it in one grand view. She saw the copse where the leopard had dragged the prize yearling three years earlier, and beyond that the bluff where she had shot her first game, a small deer called a dik-dik.

  The plane rose higher and higher, and once Erin turned around in her seat and laughed at Stephen, shouting, “This is wonderful!” Everything was noise and movement, and there was a freshness to the air she had not experienced before. Her world was usually filled with odors of manure from the animals in the barn, the fresh scent of soil just turned over, the luxuriant green smell of the vegetation, and the acrid smell of dust. But here it was only fresh air, moist and almost sweet as the small plane rose quicker than any falcon.

  When the plane banked, she went with the movement, delighting in the freedom of it. The plane still rose, and as they passed over the rolling plains, she saw little puffs of dust spring into the air as a herd of zebra ran in a panic at the sound of the engine. They were the most useless animals in Africa, as far as she was concerned, no use at all—except to the lions who fed on them. Ten minutes later she saw a huge herd of impala and wildebeest plunge into flight, and as the shadow of the plane passed over them, Erin laughed in delight. Stephen circled, throttled down, and lost altitude as the propeller bit into the air to give her a better view.

  For over an hour Stephen sent the small plane in sweeping curves, steep climbs, and deep descents. Erin loved it all! She loved the sight of the impala leaping impossibly as they ran, and the wildebeest flaunting their brittle horns, sometimes throwing themselves on the ground in a comical fashion, almost like circus clowns. She had no idea why they did this, but she enjoyed watching their antics.

  The zebras stirred up billowing clouds of dust, bucking like unbroken horses. They ran with their necks arched and their tails extended straight out behind them.

  Finally Stephen slapped the fuselage right behind her head, and when she turned, he pointed downward. She shook her head, “No—more!” but he grinned and banked the plane. He brought it in to a perfect landing, and then when it rolled to a stop, he shut the engine off. He got out first and reached up for her. She jumped into his arms, and in her excitement held on to his forearms, her eyes dancing and her lips parted in a happy smile. “Oh, Stephen, it was wonderful!”

  “You really liked it?”

  “I never liked anything so much! I’ve always loved to ride horses, and I always will—but this is something else. When can we go up again?”

  Stephen laughed and suddenly reached out and gave her a hug. She pressed herself against him and put her hands on his cheeks. “Please,” she begged. “Take me up again.”

  “After lunch, if your parents agree.”

  “They’ll agree,” she said. “I know they will.”

  ****

  “I’m not sure it’s such a good thing, this closeness between Stephen and Erin.” Patrick Winslow was strolling along with his father. They had been out hunting, and now they returned with their game bag full of birds.

  “You don’t like him?” Barney asked, turning his gaze on his son. “I rather think he’s a nice fellow.”

  “Oh, of course I like him, but what do we know about him?”

  Patrick had come home on a few days leave from his job. He had been quick to see the relationship that had blossomed between his sister and Stephen Charterhouse. He had said nothing until now, for indeed, Charterhouse was charming and seemed a straightforward man. Now, however, Patrick lifted his eyes to the plane, where Erin was standing very close to the Englishman. He was speaking to her and moving his hands in expressive gestures. Even from this distance Patrick could see that Erin was totally absorbed in the man.

  “I worry about Erin because she’s innocent.”

  “Would you have her be otherwise?”

  “Of course not, Dad! What I mean is she has no experience. She’s never had a boyfriend. I don’t think she’s ever even shown any interest. That’s not quite good for a seventeen-year-old girl.”

  Barney’s eyes grew troubled, and he shook his head. “Your mother and I said about the same thing, but I don’t think that there’s much we can do about it.”

  “Charterhouse will be going soon, won’t he?”

  “Yes, later this week. The plane’s all ready, and he has some contracts to do some flying out of Nairobi, I understand.”

  “Maybe I can see more of him while he’s there.”

  “I think that would be a good thing, son. I guess parents always worry a lot about a young girl coming to this age. She’s never given us any problems over boys.”

  “Erin’s a strange girl, Dad. I don’t think there’s a sweeter girl in the world, but she’s always felt—well, she’s done so poorly in school, I think it’s left a mark on her. And here comes this handsome, romantic fellow flying into her life. She saved his life—like something out of a romance novel. It’s only natural she’d fall for him, but I think we need to look into it.”

  “He comes from a good family. I heard that much from Conboy in Nairobi.”

  “Yes, I’ve talked to Conboy. He has a good word for Charterhouse, but I’m just saying we need to be careful.”

  “We’ll be as careful as we can, but when a young girl’s in love for the first time, it’s hard to reason with her.”

  ****

  “Stephen, I want to ask a favor of you.”

  “I think I can safely say your favor is granted.” Charterhouse turned to face Erin. They were walking together along a path that led beside the stream that bordered the mission station. It was late in the afternoon. The two had been flying twice that day, and then they had gone out for a walk before bedtime. The moon was a thin
crescent overhead, and stars were scattered like frozen chips of light across the velvet darkness of the African sky. “What is it?” Charterhouse asked.

  “I want you to teach me how to fly.”

  Charterhouse laughed. “I knew that was coming.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Of course I did! All you’ve talked about is flying since the first time you went up. It’s natural enough.”

  “Will you do it?” She reached out, took his arm, and drew him to a halt. He turned to face her, and she looked at him and pleaded. “Please, Stephen. I want it more than anything in the world.”

  “Some people can’t learn to fly. They just can’t. It takes something that not everybody has.”

  “I know I can do it. I’ve always been slow with books, but I can feel the life of the plane. It becomes like a part of you, doesn’t it? I put my hands on the controls and followed your movements, and I know I can do it if you’ll just give me a chance.”

  Indeed, Charterhouse had foreseen this, and now he said, “Of course I will, if your parents agree, but they may not. That’s a little different from taking a ride with an experienced pilot.”

  “They’ll let me. I know they will. Thank you, Stephen.”

  She reached up, pulled his head down, and kissed him on the lips. It was a gentle gesture, an expression of gratitude, but suddenly Charterhouse pulled her close and returned her kiss with a deep longing, his lips lingering on hers. When he lifted his head, he said huskily, “You’re a sweet girl, Erin Winslow.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek, then put her head on his chest while he held her tight. “Thank you, Stephen, for coming into my life.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Part of You Will Die Soon. . . .”

  June had come in splendor to the African continent, and now white clouds drifted across an azure sky like fluffy bundles of silk. Out of the distance a black dot appeared, and as Stephen Charterhouse stood watching, he smiled broadly. “Well, by George, she’s done it quicker than anyone I ever saw!”

  Four months had passed since Erin had persuaded Charterhouse to give her lessons. He had begun at once and several times had flown back to the mission station to continue her training. This had been far too slow for Erin, and she had moved to Nairobi to live with her uncle Andrew and aunt Dorothy and her cousins. The family had moved to the city two years earlier, when Andrew had been offered the position of senior pastor of a large church there.