The Paradise Affair by Bill Pronzini

Author:Bill Pronzini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

13

SABINA

She could not seem to sleep beyond a series of fitful dozes.

It wasn’t the heat or the humidity, or the fact that, except for the faint distant sound of the surf, the night had a preternatural stillness. It was that she was alone in the guesthouse. After Stephen’s death she had adapted well enough to solitary living and to sleeping alone, even learned to cherish solitude; self-reliance had made her a stronger woman. Nor had she had any trouble sleeping alone during John’s infrequent absences since their marriage. But here in Hawaii, in a strange environment three thousand miles from home, she couldn’t help feeling a restless sense of displacement, of being at loose ends now that he was away.

Lying awake, she wished she had insisted on going with him to the Big Island. Sharing whatever hardships he might endure over there would have been preferable to the hardship of passively waiting. Margaret had graciously offered to show her the local attractions—they had spent most of this day on a buggy trip to Diamond Head, the views from the top of which were breathtaking—and she was good company if a little too inquisitive about Sabina’s investigative experiences. So the days would be tolerable enough until John’s return. It was the nights, if this one was an indication, that would be the hardest to bear.

The inability to do more than doze drove her out of bed finally, out onto the screened porch. There had been no rain tonight, nor was there any threat of it in the offing. The moon was up, nearly full, bright when not obscured by a thin scud of clouds. Perhaps a walk on the beach would tire her enough so she could sleep.

She dressed in a skirt and blouse, slipped her bare feet into beach sandals, tied a long scarf around her head and neck, and went outside. The lack of even a breath of ocean breeze made the night’s stillness acute, and the mingled scents of tropical flowers were almost cloyingly sweet. The whiteness of intermittent moonlight made it easy enough for her to traverse the crushed-shell path that led down to the beach. Mosquitoes and other night bugs thrummed around her on the way, but they were not bothersome enough to change her mind about continuing.

When she reached the gate, she could see lights in every direction—a winking yellow beacon high atop the massive shape of Diamond Head, winking lanterns out beyond the reef that marked the presence of native fishing boats, a broad sweep of shore and ship lights in the harbor three miles away, the glow of the arcs that lined the city streets. The sight, not unlike that of the San Francisco bay front as seen from Nob Hill or Telegraph Hill on a clear night, gave birth to a faint feeling of homesickness. As much as she liked Hawaii and the Pritchards, the visit here had not lived up to her expectations thus far.

She stepped through the gate, walked southward along the surf line.

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