Chapter 7

When Richard returned to the Mansion he was already in complete command of all his senses and not even tired, refreshed by the cool air of the night in the country as Roger drove silently home from the voodoo gathering. The erects of the will-obliterating concoction were gone from his mind.

When he arrived, it wasn't long since Alice had fallen asleep, exhausted from the prolonged anguish over his absence, the continued nervous tension which had not abandoned her from the moment they had arrived in Haiti and received Roger Antrim's call, and more recently from the unexpected physical exertions while she indulged the act of lesbian love with the Mansion's hostess.

For a long while, before she could find peace in her sleep, Alice had tossed around in her bed, and paced nervously around the room, alone with a gnawing sense of guilt which led her to indulge in self- deprecatory thoughts.

Richard Carlston found his wife lying rigidly in bed, with her muscles all contracted and covered by a thin film of sticky, viscous perspiration. The moment he sat on the bed, intending to go to sleep beside Alice, without disturbing her, she woke up, as if startled.

"Richard!" she exclaimed. "Oh, darling, you're back!" she exhaled, as if relieved of some terrible danger, and sat on the bed, nervously.

Darling, what is it?" Richard said soothingly. "It seems that you haven't seen me in a month! I was only away for the evening, and only a few hours... !"

Oh, Richard!" she three herself in his arms. "It seemed you were away for an eternity! I have been so afraid!"

"Afraid? Why?" Richard asked, tenderly, almost fatherly in his gesture. "Have you been having nightmares again?"

"This time it was not a nightmare, Dick. It was real!" Alice told him, bursting into nervous tears.

And from that moment on, she spoke to her husband, rapidly, nervously, almost hysterically, without stopping but to catch her breath and continue talking. She told him all what she had seen of Henrietta and the Negro workers, all what she had feared for him, all her suspicions about Roger Antrim... whom she confessed to distrust deeply, although she didn't explain why...

From his part, Richard couldn't help but believe his wife's apprehensive words. He knew that Alice was not a woman given to hysterics, nor to invent stories to obtain something she wanted. He had always known her to be a cool headed girl with a practical intelligence who was usually perfectly capable of evaluating a situation by the weight of facts and not emotions. That was something he had always appreciated in Alice, since the beginning of their life together.

It was true that he had already fallen into that state of apprehension about the voodoo practices that some educated people in Haiti had, who may cling to their logical disbelief of the superstitious basis of the faith, but nevertheless feel the uneasiness of a doubt hauling every one of their acts in life...

He had already accepted to drink whatever concoction they had prepared for him, had purchased the many--and some quite expensive-- gifts that the loa had asked from him through the words of the hungan whose body they had possessed. He had even agreed to neglect his conjugal life with Alice by not having touched her for two days already because he was keeping the period of sexual abstinence required from him before the ceremony--of his 'marriage' with the female deity chosen to be his spiritual bride... And in that ceremony--which he had been ready to perform--he was to 'dedicate two days of each week to the supernatural wife' which meant not to touch his human one nor to engage in any sort of sexual nor romantic contact with her... All in exchange for the 'protection and favor of the spirit so cared for'.

"Richard, let's go away, darling!" Alice pleaded, anxiously, taking him away from his deep, weary thoughts. "Tomorrow morning! Please, Richard... Let's leave this place first thing in the morning, or I think I'll go crazy!"

Perhaps that would be the solution. He needed to put his ideas in order, to review his beliefs, to regain his old confident self, which had always had full control of his acts and never hoped to gain neither fame nor prosperity from anything other than his own efforts. He longed to be again the man he used to be, cheerful and confident in his own possibilities, instead of his frightened, superstitious fanatic he had become, afraid of the words of a miserable, ignorant laborer who believed himself to possess the secret of the universe and the power of the primitive gods he summoned and who used his body in order to communicate with the living...

A religion of darkness! The living allowing the dead to rule their lives... And he had gotten involved in all this!

No, he couldn't let himself sink so deeply in the same quicksand of ignorance and superstition that he hoped to eliminate with his studies and researches on the subject.

He had been warned, repeatedly, by the hungan, with his grave, eerie voice, that the gods were jealous of their matrimonial partners which they had chosen themselves, and a transgression of any of their commands was usually followed by a palpable demonstration of the god's wrath.

He was clearly advised that should he engage in carnal contact with his wife--or any other suman woman--during the pre-nuptial period of abstinence required, or during the days he was supposed to dedicate to the loa every week, for the rest of his stay, would surely mean to endanger the life of that mortal woman. And Richard found that --in the bottom of his heart--he was afraid, not for him, but for whatever could happen to Alice because of his transgression.

Maybe--thinking about it in a cold, logical manner--if they both left Haiti, the voodoo priests wouldn't have the chance to 'help' a loa carry out its revenge by lending them their own human intervention to make the prophesied doom come to happen.

"Yes, darling..." He then said, as if by impulse, "Let's leave! Let's go away from this place. Let's go to Port-au-Prince and not stop there but take the first plane back home! You're right, Alice! All this is nothing more than depravation. Our hosts are nothing but degenerate people with whom we have nothing in common..." He smiled at her, trying to wipe away all his weariness and regain his old, comfortable self-assurance which he so much needed now...

"Oh Dick," she said, putting her arms his waist. "You really do make me happy. I was so afraid you wouldn't believe me and refuse to leave. You have been so much involved with this voodoo thing and I've been so worried about you, darling!

She went very close next to him in bed, where they were both snuggled against one another.

"I feel so warm, so safe now, Dick..." she whispered, letting her head rest against the crook of his arm. His hand closed around her shoulder and he pulled her closer and kissed her hair, smelling the fresh, clean scent of her shampoo and cologne.

"I do love you, please believe me, darling," he murmured. "I don't want you to think that there's ever anything more important for me than you, Alice..."

She raised her face to his and he kissed her deeply, tenderly and she could feel a rush of warmth permeate her body, and her nerves began to tingle as she resumed his kiss. Her arms reached across to him and clung to his sides and her fingers dug into his ribs.

Richard pulled away for just a minute, and said: Take it easy, baby. Do you know what you're doing to me?"

Yes," she answered, "the same thing you are doing to me." Her voice had a hidden urgency and he turned and pushed her back onto the mattress, covering her face, her throat and neck with sweet, fluttering kisses.

Oh, Dick," she moaned. "I do need you." She couldn't bring herself to say anything of her fears, of what had happened during those endless nights while he was away in his voodoo involvement. But right now her only truth was that she needed him, she needed him to make her feel safe and loved again.

His hands roamed slowly, carefully over her soft breasts, feeling the throbbing of her heart and pulse wherever his hands touched. He wanted to feel the soft silkiness of her skin and she didn't try to stop him as he fumbled with the buttons of her sweater, easing it from her shoulders so that her ripe, voluptuous breasts stood up proud and firm beneath her brassiere.