Children of the Storm

retrieving one of them. She decided against such a reckless foray, so long as she was on her own.
        She had gone almost two thirds of the island's length when, so suddenly that she let out a terrified squeal, someone stepped out of the palms along the beach and said, “Hello, there!”
        “Who-”
        He was tall, about Bill Peterson's age and size, though his hair was dark, as were his eyes, and he was more thoroughly, richly tanned than Bill, as if he had been born and raised in the open air, under clear skies. He was not so handsome as Bill, but more rugged, earthier in a way that made him look somewhat older than he really was.
        “Ken Blenwell,” he said, stepping in front of her and grinning broadly.
        She remembered the man whom she had seen when they took a boat tour around the island, the man standing on the Blenwell pier and watching the Lady Jane with field glasses. So this was what he looked like close up.
        “Do you have a name?” he asked, still grinning.
        “Oh, of course!” she said, embarrassed by her lapse. “You startled me so, that I sort of lost track.”
        “Sorry about that.”
        “I'm Sonya Carter.”
        “What a lovely name!” he said.
        “Thank you.”
        “Were you coming to see us?”
        His teeth were exceptionally white, strong and broad, like the teeth of a healthy animal.
        “Us?”
        “My grandparents and me,” he said. “The Blenwells? Down at Hawk House?”
        “Oh,” she said, “no. No, I was just out for a walk , getting to know the island. Am I close to Hawk House, then?”
        “Quite close, yes.”
        “I was enjoying myself so much,” she said, “that I didn't realize how far I'd come.”
        He stood before her, his bare feet planted wide apart in the warm sand, almost as if he were there to stop her from proceeding any farther. He said, “Well, this makes two disappointments in less than a week.”
        “Oh?”
        “When you came around the point in Lady Jane, with Peterson, I thought you were coming to pay us a visit then. But you went right on by, leaving me disappointed.” His grin no longer seemed as pleasant as it first had; it seemed positively threatening. Or was that her imagination? Yes, it must be that: imagination, exaggeration. He was still smiling; he seemed personable and charming.
        “That was you on the pier, with the binoculars?” she asked.
        “You know it was.”
        “I suppose I do, yes.”
        “Will you accept my invitation to visit us?” he asked, looking down on her. He was quite tall.
        “I'd like that.”
        “Now?”
        She hesitated, then said, “I don't see why not.”
        “Wonderful!”
        He stepped out of her way, walked up beside her and took her arm, as if he thought she might turn and run unless he had a good hold on her. His grip was firm; he appeared inordinately strong.
        They walked along the beach together. From a distance, they might have looked like any happy-go-lucky couple. Up close, the observer would have seen the lines of tension around the girl's eyes, would have seen something-something not quite identifiable, but unsettling, in the big man's dark face.
        “You like the island?” he asked.
        “It's beautiful,” she said.
        “It is that. Someday, I hope to own it.”
        “Oh?”
        “Unless, of course, your employer, Dougherty, refuses to sell his portion. But I'm confident that, given time, he'll come around to my offer. It's more than adequate. He could turn a neat profit with what I'm willing to go for it.”
        “But I doubt he needs the money,” she said. She didn't know why she felt like needling the man, but she couldn't resist the chance.
        “Everyone needs the money-or thinks he does. Millionaires are no different; Dougherty is no different.” As the beach turned and Hawk House came into view, he let go her arm. “What strikes you most about Distingue?”
        “Too many things to choose one,” she said. “The beaches are so pure white.”
        “That's because they're white volcanic beaches. The sand was formed at the most terrific heat- oh, ten or twenty thousand years ago, and maybe longer. Surely, longer.”
        “And the palm trees,” she said, motioning to the lovely green giants to their left where they closed in on Hawk House. “I wanted to climb one of the coconut palms for some fruit,