Phoenix Island by Charlotte Paul

Author:Charlotte Paul
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780451146496
Publisher: Signet
Published: 1975-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

26

The ritual of each night’s meeting began with the marking of Andrew’s “Crusoe Calendar.” A short notch for each of the first six days of the week, and a longer notch for the seventh day—which, after some discussion, they agreed was Sunday.

Their first Sunday had been indistinguishable from other days—for there was so much to be done, no one thought of interrupting the weekday work routine. But on the evening of their second Saturday, Andrew had sensed a general weariness of spirit as well as of body.

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” he had said, inscribing a short notch on the calendar pole. As he resumed his place in the circle, someone murmured in agreement, someone else nodded—but they were too tired to react further.

Looking at passive faces and dull eyes, Andrew realized that his responsibility as leader went beyond keeping them fed, watered, and sheltered—he was more than a herdsman protecting prize cattle. If they were to survive, then their inner selves, disparate as they were, would also have to be nurtured. Otherwise, physical fatigue would sink in too deep to be erased by a good night’s sleep.

And there was another factor that he, as leader, could not afford to ignore. This little colony included three single males whose sexual appetites would not subside simply because they had no partners. Nor would the physical beauty of the three females be less disturbing to two of the three—Warren being immune in this case—because they were already spoken for.

Of course, the arrival of a search party would be the ideal resolution. But an acceptable alternative, Andrew mused with a wry smile, would be the magical appearance of two pretty girls and one pretty boy. Rescue, in that case, might lose some of its charm.

Well, they could do something at least about physical fatigue. He cleared his throat.

“We need a change of pace,” he said. “What would you think of making Sunday different in some way from the other days of the week? I’m not sure how. That’s up to you. But shouldn’t we mark Sunday in some special way?”

“On Sunday, we always had roast chicken,” Norma reminisced, looking dreamily into the fire.

“On Sunday,” Warren said brightly, “dear maman broke out her best sherry and wore her black velvet. She was at home from three till five.”

“Are you thinking of some sort of religious observance, Dr. Held?” Blake’s voice was deferential, despite an undertone of doubt.

“Religion,” Felicia echoed sleepily. “When I was fifteen, I got interested in the Young Peoples’ Prayer Meeting on Sunday evening, because my girlfriend assured me there was always a boy to walk you home. I went… no one asked to take me home… and that was the last time I attended Young Peoples’ Prayer Meeting.”

“I can’t understand it,” Andrew said with a smile. “A beautiful red-headed girl?”

Felicia shrugged. “I had braces on my teeth, and my mother wouldn’t let me wear high heels.”

Andrew chuckled and returned to the issue.

“Something religious, if that’s what you want—though that sounds more formal, or perhaps more restrictive, than what I had in mind.

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