I won’t feel guilty about it, he said to himself as he stared up toward the darkened ceiling of his bedroom. I simply did what I had to do. A strange cure for a doctor to employ, he thought, and that made him smile. Then why did he feel a nearly painful throbbing in his damned groin? Sex, he thought, made a man foolish; it overpowered his brain and complicated things. Well, there was going to be nothing complicated about this. But he pulled her closer, and his last thought before he fell into a light sleep was that she had to bathe away that awful pungent perfume.
He dreamed about an afternoon that he’d thought long forgotten, an afternoon some six years before. He was walking along beside his young friend, his step automatically shortened to match hers., not at first realizing that she wasn’t behaving normally.
‘The bird of paradise is so forceful,’ Juliana said, stopping a moment to sniff and lightly touch the vivid flower. ‘All sharp lines, in beautiful colors, of course, but it’s not delicate like the hibiscus.’
This was her fifth stop to admire flowers. He’d had lectures from Jules on all the flora on Maui over the three months he’d known her. He was hot, tired, and wanted to go swimming, so he stopped her.
‘Enough about the graceful hibiscus. Let’s get into the water and you can show me some blackspot sergeants.’
To his surprise, she ducked her head down, and a small ‘No’ barely reached his ears. ‘But you always want to go into the water,’
he said, patting her shoulder.
She raised her face for just a moment, and he was startled at the strange look in her eyes. ‘Jules,’ Saint had said finally, giving her his full attention. ‘What’s all this about? You’ve been acting strangely, I can’t get you to go swimming with me, all you’ve wanted to do is prattle on about flowers. Now, what’s going on?’
To his further surprise, a scarlet flush mounted her cheeks. He waited patiently, watching her pleat her cotton skirt with nervous fingers.
At last he said again, ‘If you’re not going to talk to me, we might as well get me out of my misery and go swimming. What do you say? Want to change your mind? I’ll make sure
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you don’t get too much sun. Where is your sarong?’
Her head shot up and she blurted out, ‘I can’t!’
He stared down at her thin, intense face, surrounded with the riotous red curls. She looked as though she wanted to sink into the soft grass beneath her feet. He frowned, curbing his impatience with her; then understanding hit him, and he wanted to laugh. But he said quite gently, taking her hand in his large one, ‘Come over here and let’s sit down a minute. It’s a great view, don’t you think?’
He felt her hand trembling, felt her pulling back, but paid her no heed. So it was her monthly flow, he thought. Perhaps he should simply ignore it and leave her on the beach while he swam. But she looked so strange; perhaps she wasn’t feeling well. Once they were seated on a flat volcanic rock, he said matter-of factly, ‘I’m your friend, and more than that, I’m a doctor. Your doctor. Now, talk to me.’
She wouldn’t look at him.
‘I’m dying,’ she said simply, her girl’s voice high and thin and resigned.
He blinked, looking at her profile sharply. ‘What the hell does that mean?’ Even as he spoke, he realized suddenly that this must be her first time. She was thirteen, and he hadn’t realized, hadn’t considered that she … He felt a fool, a big bungling one.
‘Jules, you’re not dying,’ he said. ‘You’re bleeding, aren’t you, for the first time?’
She looked at him, aghast, and her tongue flicked over her lower lip. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
In that moment he wished he could see that wilting, pallid mother of hers and shake her until her teeth rattled for being such a damned prude. He proceeded in a calm, practical voice to explain to her the process of becoming a woman. ‘Do you understand now, Jules?’ he finished. ‘There’s nothing to be worried about, I promise. You’re just fine. It’s all very natural.’