The Australian. Diana Palmer

force herself to get up and finish packing.

      Hours later she said good-bye to her parents in Brisbane and climbed aboard a plane bound for the Hawaiian Islands. Despite the fact that she had promised herself she wouldn’t, her helpless eyes scanned the airport terminal for a glimpse of John. But he wasn’t there. Why should he be? He’d said his good-byes. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long day.

      Chapter Four

      Priss settled in at the University of Hawaii in Honolulu, on the island of Oahu, and found the diversity of cultures and races as fascinating as she’d found Australia. She lived off campus, with Aunt Margaret, and found her young-minded aunt a lively and delightful companion. When Priss wasn’t attending classes, her aunt toured her around the island. Priss found breathtaking beauty in the beaches and mountains and volcanos and flowers, and day by day the hurt of leaving behind her family and the man she loved began to ease.

      One of her biggest consolations was the new friend she’d found in Ronald George, a tall dark-haired Englishman with blue eyes who was studying for a degree in education, too.

      Her introduction to him had come the first day of classes, when he’d sidled up to her in the auditorium and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

      “I say,” he asked conspiratorially, “would you be interested in having a blazing affair with me during algebra? It is a bit crowded in here right now, but I do see a place just behind the curtains in the auditorium...”

      She’d looked up at him dumbfounded. “What?”

      “Just a short affair,” he continued. “Until second period class? All right, then, you’ve talked me into marriage. But you’ll have to wait until I have an hour to spare. Say, around lunchtime?” He grinned. “I’m Ronald George, by the way. You’d have seen the name on our marriage certificate, but I thought you might like to know beforehand.”

      “You’re incredible!” she burst out. She stared up at him while she decided between running for help or laughing aloud.

      “Yes, and just think, you haven’t even seen me in action yet!” He leered at her playfully. “How about it? Or we could become engaged now. The thing is, old girl, I don’t have a ring on me....”

      She decided in favor of laughter. “Oh, stop, I’ll hurt myself,” she gasped after laughing until her stomach ached.

      He brushed back a lock of his wavy dark hair. “I knew we’d hit it off. You’re just my type. A girl.”

      She held out her hand. “I’m Priscilla Johnson, from Queensland, Australia.”

      “What an odd accent you have, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he commented. “Sort of southern Australian?”

      “I’m from Alabama originally,” she confessed. “My father teaches in Providence. That’s a small town northwest of Brisbane, near several large stations.”

      “Ah, yes. Australia.” He studied her with a warm smile. “I’d like to teach there myself, when I take my degree. Especially if that’s where you’re going to teach.”

      “It is.” She smiled back. “Been here long?”

      “Two whole nights,” he said. “I miss the rain and the fog and the cold back home,” he sighed.

      “I left spring in Australia.”

      “I say, we’ll probably both die in this island paradise,” he predicted.

      “I know a girl who’s studying to be a doctor,” she told him. “She’ll save us once she gets through premed. You can’t possibly catch pneumonia until then.”

      “Oh. Well, in that case, I shall put on a mustard plaster tonight. And perhaps a couple of hot dogs to keep it company.”

      The bell rang just as she was warming to him, but in the weeks and months that followed, they became fast friends. Both of them knew it wasn’t going to be any mad romance, but they found they genuinely liked each other. And Priss needed a friend desperately. The longer she was away from John Sterling, the more she missed him. It became an actual pain to lie down at night and think about him.

      By the time six months had passed and Easter rolled around, she’d had all too much time to think about how she’d hounded John for the last two years. It hadn’t helped that Renée had written that John was riding around with Janie Weeks, a notorious divorcée in the district. It was probably nothing, Renée had written, but people were talking about it. Still, Priss was certain John was carrying on an affair and it hurt in an intolerable way.

      She cried for hours after that, and her usually bright face was full of bitter hurt as she went to her sociology class just before school let out for Easter vacation.

      “What’s wrong, Priss?” Ronald asked her, his fond eyes concerned. “I say, you aren’t breaking your heart over me, I hope?” He grinned. “Dying of unbridled passion...?”

      “Well, maybe,” she teased. Then her face became serious. “I don’t want to go home at Easter,” she lied.

      “Good!” he chuckled. “Stay here and I’ll take you to a luau at my roommate’s parents’ home.”

      “That sounds like fun,” she said. “Really?”

      “Really. I’ve talked about you so much, Danny’s dying to meet you.”

      Her eyes searched his. “Well...”

      “Come on,” he chided. “I’m not trying to talk you into anything. Just friends, as we agreed.”

      She relaxed. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

      “Great!” he exclaimed. “I’ll tell Danny you’re coming. This is going to be a gala affair, old girl; they’re even roasting a suckling pig I hear.” He leaned down. “Not to worry, the pig had absolutely nothing left to live for—he’d only just been jilted by his girlfriend.”

      She burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re good for me!”

      “What did I tell you in the beginning?” he asked with a smug smile.

      She relaxed a little then, because she had a concrete reason to stay in Hawaii. She didn’t want to have to tell her parents the truth: that she was dying because John didn’t care enough to write to her. That she couldn’t bear to see him with another woman.

      That night she called Renée and Adam from Margaret’s house.

      “Not coming home?” Renée gasped. “But, darling, we’ve made plans...”

      “I’m sorry,” she said, pretending cheerfulness, “but you remember I told you about Ronald George? Well, he’s invited me to this big luau at his friend’s home a couple of days from now, and he’s such a nice guy...well, I said yes before I thought.” She crossed her fingers against the lie.

      “He’s the British boy,” Renée recalled. She sighed. “Priss, we’ve invited some people over tomorrow night, kind of a homecoming party for you. John was coming.”