The Moonflower by Phyllis A. Whitney

Author:Phyllis A. Whitney
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504043885
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2017-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

12.

That night Marcia lay awake for a long time, thinking back through the years. There was no wind tonight and the creakings were only the normal ones heard in an elderly wooden house. Jerome slept in the next room and no sense of menace troubled her.

How clearly and achingly she could remember him as he had been after her father’s death, when he had come back from Japan for the first time, and for the first time had seen her as a grown young woman plainly in love with him. For a little while he had turned to her as if the daughter of the man he had worshiped could answer some deep need in him. It was as if, in coming home, he had fled from something in Japan that he wanted never to see again, something he needed to forget. Or perhaps he fled from something in himself that left him fearful and touched with horror. Whatever he had felt, he had turned in those first days of their marriage to Marcia’s eager gift of love as though it could hold away the ominous dark that encroached upon his being.

Marcia turned restlessly on her pillow, trying to understand, to fathom.

Chiyo—was it Chiyo?

Chiyo, the lovely and delicate and delightful. Chiyo, who would surely please the senses of any man. And she was American born, she could speak his own language. Yet Marcia had a feeling that there was something more, something less obvious which held Jerome to Japan. Chiyo, yes, but still something more than Chiyo.

Ichiro Minato was plainly a malcontent and not a particularly pleasant person. Yet he stayed on in this house. Why? What was the adherent that held these people together under the same roof? What part did the woman in the white kimono play and what was the nature of her illness?

At length Marcia slept and woke to find spring rain streaking the window panes, soaking the thirsty garden. Laurie was downcast until later in the morning, when the sun broke through and brought blue skies with it to bless the afternoon.

Sunday was not a day for the closing of business in Japan. A few offices might close, but most shops stayed open. Monday was the more popular closing day throughout the country. Nevertheless, holiday throngs seemed to be out that afternoon, because of the cherry blossoms. Jerome left the car at the foot of Teapot Hill, so they could walk up past the tiny, open-front shops. Kyoto pottery was famous and the shops were endlessly fascinating with their display of everything from tourist trash to the beautiful and unique. There were exquisite tea sets, dishes of every kind, colorful ceramic figures of gods and men and animals, doll shops and souvenir shops. And always, as they climbed the steep bill, the bright red pagoda that fronted the temple buildings rose above them, beckoning like a finger.

When they reached the stone steps leading up to the main entrance, Jerome chose instead to take them around to the side.

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