Children of the Storm

fear.
        “Well, if this theory of yours is correct-and, Bill, it's the most logical, maybe the only logical thing I've heard yet-then no one really wants to hurt Alex or Tina. All that Blenwell wants to do is scare everyone, a goal that he achieved remarkably well.”
        Peterson was silent for a time, standing before a wall of books, letting his eyes run over the colorful bindings. At last, he said, “Suppose that Blenwell convinced Rudolph that he didn't want to hurt anyone, least of all two defenseless children, that all he wanted was the island. But also suppose that, in reality, he was lying to Rudolph. Suppose, no matter what he convinced Rudolph of, he really does want to take a knife to the kids, really does want to kill them.”
        Her legs shook harder.
        She said, wanting to believe that it was true, “Rudolph wouldn't have been fooled easily. He's a very good man at his job. Sometimes, I feel he can see right through me, right into the center of my mind and know what I'm thinking.”
        “Me too,” Bill said. He stopped examining the books. “He's made me feel like a butterfly pinned on a collecting tray. But remember, Sonya, that a madman-let's say, in this case, Blenwell-can be terribly clever, cunning and quite convincing.”
        “Bill, I don't know what to think anymore!”
        She was trembling visibly now.
        He went to her and encircled her in both his arms, holding her to him like a father with child.
        Fat tears hung in the corners of her eyes.
        “Now, now,” he said.
        She wiped the corners of her eyes.
        He said, “I didn't mean to frighten you, Sonya. I just wanted to let you know what I suspect, ask you for your help. You're the only person I felt I could talk to.”
        “My help?” she asked.
        He let go of her with one arm and offered her his clean handkerchief, which she took and used.
        “Thank you,” she said. “But how can I help? What can I do?”
        “Saine seems to like you better than anyone in Seawatch,” he said, brushing a strand of her yellow hair away from her cheek.
        “Since I was almost strangled,” she said, “he no longer considers me a major suspect.”
        “Well,” Bill said, “perhaps you can get to him where I've failed, open his eyes.”
        “About Ken Blenwell?”
        “Yes.”
        “I've tried before.”
        “Try again, and again,” he said. “We haven't anything to lose.”
        “I guess not.”
        “And I'm convinced,” Bill said, “that sometime during the storm, Blenwell's going to make his move.”
        “I'll talk to Rudolph,” she said.
        “Good.” He kissed her, lightly on the lips, then more firmly, taking her breath away.
        “I'm okay now,” she said.
        “Sure?”
        “Very.”
        He looked at her critically, holding her face in one hand, like an artist holding his creation up to good light, and he said, “I can't even tell that you've been crying.”
        “I wasn't, really,” she said. “Just a tear or two, which can't be counted.” She smiled at him.
        He made a funny, mock expression of bedazzle-ment, holding a hand over his eyes to shield his vision. He said, “God, what a smile that is! It's like the light of the tropic sun!”
        “Or a hundred stars,” she said sarcastically.
        “That too.”
        She laughed, pushed him back playfully and handed over his dampened handkerchief.
        “I will frame it,” he told her.
        “No, you'll launder it.”
        He grew serious again. “Now, you're sure you're feeling all right, good enough to facing everyone in the kitchen?”
        “Yes,” she said. “I've felt better but I've also felt worse. Now, should we get back out there before Bess takes it in her head to come looking for us?”
        He grimaced. “I love that old woman, but-”
        “She tells bad jokes.”
        He laughed. “That too, now that you mention it.”
        She started for the door.
        “Wait!” he called. When she turned around, he pointed at the stacks of books and said, “We'd better not go back empty-handed, or we'll really be adding fuel to the fire of rumors.”

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    NINETEEN
        
        During their simple supper and twice during the card games that followed it, as the staff kept each other company, listened to the weather reports and waited to see how bad the winds and the rain would get, Sonya