KEEPING THE LIGHTS BURNING
By Richard B. (Rick) Messer

Chapter 9: Dark Clouds and Silver Linings

    It is said that the Marleybone Grand Hotel is the premier establishment on Casino Island.  A Class ‘A’ hotel where the rich and famous come to see and be seen.  It is said that every one of note and notoriety has at least once passed through the doors of this hotel during its rich history.

    The dining room/ballroom is upscale, sometimes liken to the Grand Hotel of New York City.  The menu provides a meal for every discerning taste, a wine list to satisfy the most appreciative palate and an orchestra with a wide repertoire running from the stately to the jazzy.

    At a table in a corner of the dining area a young rabbit couple were engaged in soft conversation. The cream furred fem with a bubble helmet of honey colored curls was being expressive with her hands, the black cigarette holder weaving in tight patterns, the small cigar tracing wispy contrails through the air.  Her male companion was light gray in body fur with black ears and a black ‘moustache’ across his upper lip.  To Geoffrey Boswell the bar over his mouth has been a source of good-natured ribbing from friends and co-workers.  They are always calling the young buck ‘Groucho’, after the famous silver screen comedian, Groucho Manx.  But that is all that they share in common; Geoffrey being a rabbit while Julian - the star’s real name - Manx was feline.

    But that didn’t matter to Jennifer Monroe.  She still loved the young engineer from the Althing Transportation Committee, with or without the ‘moustache.’  Which was why he sat in rapt attention, leaning on the table and his ears tilted forward to catch every word and nuance of what had happened to his betrothed that afternoon.

    Jenny paused in her narration, to take a sip of wine and her smoke.
 
    “I mean, if I hadn’t noticed that same taxi circling around like it did, then Beverly and I would be stretched out at the morgue instead of spending the evening with our dates.”

    Geoffrey’s dark eyes were wide with excitement.  “You seem to be getting your share of excitement lately.  First, there’s the fight with the towerwreckers two days ago.  Now they’re attacking you and your friend on the very streets of Casino Island.  You’d almost think that you’re too high profile to be out anymore.  I’m almost afraid they’ll come storming through the doors and shoot up the place.”

    The lepine fem blew smoke towards the ceiling while chuckling.

    “I doubt they’ll try something like that, Geoffrey.  Whoever these characters are they try to keep a low profile.  They could have a go again tomorrow or leave well enough alone from now on.”

    Geoffrey Boswell could only nod in agreement, as he didn’t have anything to offer to refute his fiancé’s statement.  Then something caught his eye across the dance floor.  Jenny followed his gaze.  Across the polished marble floor approached a rare couple led by a waiter.  They drew the attention of several other patrons and caused conversations close by to go mute.

    They were humans, though the male was a familiar figure to many.  Silas Stanbridge wore his naval mess dress: dark trousers, white waist-length jacket with a couple of rows of ribbons over the left breast pocket plus a gold metal pinned to the flap, and a white shirt with black bow tie.  However, it was his companion that attracted the most stares.  Beverly Plumb wore a white evening dress with matching gloves, pumps, and handbag.  Silver earrings hung below dark blond hair that had been marcelled with a part on the left side, and a silver chain was draped around her throat.

    They stopped in front of the rabbit couple.  Geoffrey stood and shook hands with Beverly while Silas introduced his date.

    “So you are the famous ‘Angel of Mercy’ from this afternoon,” stated the rabbit engineer.

    Beverly flashed a smile.  “That seems to be what the press has been trumpeting all day in their newspapers.”  The smile faded.  “I just wished it had been an otherwise quiet afternoon.”

    The captain coughed quietly into his fist.

    “It is good to see you again, Mr. Boswell.  I trust that our fair Miss Monroe has been bending your ears double with her adventures.”

    Geoffrey felt his ears flush a little as he nodded in reply.  “Seems she’s been wanting to unload her tales of woe to someone other than the press.”

    Jenny could only roll her eyes in Beverly’s direction before taking her date by the hand and coax him back into his seat.  “Hey, you and I came here to be together and have a good time.  Let them find their own party!”

    Giving a hurt look the male rabbit muttered, “You call death and destruction having a good time?”

    With a shared chuckle the humans continued after the patient waiter to their own table.  Silas gave a start as he recognized the place he had been the evening before with the Eurasian actress, Celine Monvel.

    “Is something wrong, Silas?” Beverly asked as the waiter helped her into her chair.

    The captain shook his head slightly.  “Nothing serious, my dear.  It’s just that I was at this same table last night.”

    “Oh?” The woman brightened at that.  “Are you seeing someone else?”

    Catching the subtle hint of jealously in her words, Silas replied, “No, just a dinner date with Celine Monvel.”

    “The actress?”  It seemed she was familiar with that furson.

    He nodded and gave a brief rundown of what had occurred the day before that led to the date, then leading up to the Burmese’ sudden departure.

    “Poor thing,” said Beverly as she laid her purse on the table before her.

    Silas gave a noncommittal shrug as he pulled his pipe out.  “May I?”

    His date smiled.  “As long as I can join you.”

    That brought a look of surprise to the man’s bearded face as he watch the woman pull out a familiar looking flat black tin and cigarette holder.  With a chuckle he drew a match from the table holder and struck it.

    “I see that my Pilot Officer has already corrupted you.”
 
    Beverly leaned forward to accept the light.  Then sitting back she blew smoke into the air.

    “Not hardly, my dear,” she countered, using his honorific before launching into the story she had told Jenny Monroe earlier that day.  When she had finished Silas Stanbridge chuckled again as he lit his pipe.

    “You are, indeed, an extraordinary woman.  You’ve faced gunfire calmly while people are dying about you, performed your nursing tasks without qualm, and engaged in a vice that few females would even consider.”

    Knocking ash into the ashtray, Beverly countered, “I wasn’t calm when the bullets started flying.  To tell the truth, I damn near shit my drawers!  I wanted to cry like a baby while patching up those poor furries, and I couldn’t care less what anyone says about my habits.  If I wanted to, I could have taken up pipe smoking.  But that wasn’t the case when I was staying with my uncle.”

    Again, the man nodded his understanding.  A most independent woman, he thought.  Someone I think I’ve finally found to fill this void in my life.

    By then the waiter returned to take their drink order.

    “Anything you like to have?” asked the captain.

    Beverly shook her head.  “I’m not particular about my drink.  Usually I’ve either a beer or bourbon and water.  But working with a Sikh couple has put a brake on my pleasures.”

    “May I suggest a rum and Coca-Cola, then?” offered the canine waiter with a smile.

    Silas nodded.  “Sounds good; make that two rum and Coca-Colas, please.”

    After the waiter left the woman asked, “Never heard of that drink.”

    Blowing smoke Silas answered, “It came out of Cuba about ten years ago.  It’s very popular in the Caribbean and has worked its way up the East Coast before heading westward.  When I’m having dinner with Orin and his family he and I usually have one afterwards.  Say, while I’m talking about the Clements, would you be interested in having dinner with his family tomorrow evening?”

    Beverly considered the offer while puffing quietly on her smoke.

    “Are you trying to overwhelm me with such pleasures on so short a trip?”

    The man sat there, regarding the woman sitting next to him.  No longer in her nurse’s uniform she presented a very pleasant picture of femininity, more so than the other night on his ship.  The blond hair worked into deep waves with a part along the left side of her head, the graceful curves of her body and how her dress accentuated those.  The tan of her skin showed that she wasn’t one involved in worshipping the sun like a tourist coming for a brief visit, but of someone who didn’t mind working outdoors.  But those blues eyes, lighter than his, glowed when they fell upon him, as if she was seeing him again as the other day on the beach of Little Orpington Island.
 
    “Yes, I am,” the man said shortly, “because I don’t know if I’ll be lucky again in finding another human woman.”  He swallowed the lump in his throat as he reached inside his jacket again, fearful that what courage he had now would evaporate.  Reaching across the table, Silas took Beverly’s left hand in his as he brought forth a small brown box and placed it in her palm.

    “That is why I’m asking you, Beverly Plumb, if you’ll consent to be my wife.”  So saying he opened the lid.

    The woman sat stunned, by both the words and the gift.  She stared at the gold ring set in the black velvet of the liner as it gleamed in the light of the dining room.  Mechanically, Beverly lifted her face to stare at the man as she set her holder down into the ashtray.  There came brightness to her eyes, a brightness brought on by the rising joy in her heart, and the tears that came as well.  She looked down once more at that little hoop of gold, the sign of unity between a man and woman for countless centuries.  The tears spilled over to streak her makeup down her cheek as she sought to find the words to express what she was feeling at the moment.  There were none, only the urge to throw her arms around the captain’s neck, which she succumbed to.
 
    “Oh, yes, Silas!  Yes! Yes! Yes!”  She pulled back to wipe her face with the napkin, and succeeding in smearing her mascara across her cheeks.  Frantically, she dug through her purse to find her makeup case and glance into the mirror.

    “Oh, shit, I’m a mess!”
 
    “Here, let me,” replied Silas as he pulled his handkerchief out, dipped a corner into his water glass, and began to clean away the smears.  When he was done he took the ring from the case; his date hastily pulling off the glove before Silas could slide the ring onto her left ring finger.  It slid on perfectly.

    “How did you know it will fit?” Beverly asked in wonder.

    A grin broke over that bearded face.  “I’ve a good feel for the size of an object.  Comes from years of practice when you need to find a bolt or a rope in the dark.  That night on the deck of the Ida Lewis, when we were holding hands, I was ‘measuring’ your finger size to determine the size of ring I needed to get.”

    Beverly said nothing for a long time, only admiring the ring as it encircled her finger.
 
    Is this true, she thought, does this mean an end to my solitary spinster’s life?  But she had only to look into the eyes of this man she had only met two days ago to find the answer there.  Carefully she pulled off the other glove, folding both neatly and laying them aside on the table.  By then the waiter returned with their drinks.  After he left the couple hoisted their glasses and made a quiet toast.

    “To us,” Silas simply said.

    “To us,” answered Beverly.

    The glasses clinked and they took a sip.  The woman winced slightly as she set her drink down.

    “Damn, that’s got a bite!”

    The captain chuckled.  “Don’t worry about the bite.  It’s the kick you have to watch out for later.”

    By then the orchestra was on stage and began playing.  Silas gave Beverly a questioning look as the music began to fill the room.  She answered with a nod and a grin.  Rising together the human couple glided across the floor to join some other patrons.  A young Afghan female, with a flowing blond mane and silver lamé attire, approached the microphone and began to sing.

    As the crowd whirled around the dance floor, Beverly felt peace in her life at the moment.  It was the kind of moment she had dreamed of most of her life.  And now that dream has come true.  She looked up at that bearded face over her, studied the lines of the sun browned features and the twinkle of those deep blue eyes, and felt a growing tingle deep in her soul that soon, soon, her life will be complete.

    During the whirl around the floor they met up with Jenny and Geoffrey.  The human woman smiled at them then flashed the ring on her hand.  Jenny’s eyes widened as she gave a small squeal of surprise.  She broke away from her date to embrace Beverly, anxious as a schoolgirl over something very new.  They giggled, embraced again, and kissed each other’s cheeks while the males shook hands.  Soon they had separated and resumed their dancing.  After a couple of songs, the captain and his date returned to their table.  Their waiter had left menus.  Perusing the list, Beverly felt a nervous clutch in her stomach as she noticed the prices.

    “Silas, can you afford this meal?  I’m sorry to be so nosy about it, but they are a bit steep!”

    The man chuckled.  “I’ve been saving my profits from the Syndic these past ten years.  The only real expenditures I have are my motorcycle and buying birthday and Christmas gifts for Orin’s children, as well as for the crew of Jenny’s airplane.”

    Beverly just shook her head.  “I don’t know if I want the steak or chicken.  I’ve had enough fish with the Singhs.”

    The waiter returned, waiting.  The man turned to him before Beverly could say anything.

    “We would like two Porterhouse steaks, medium well, with baked potatoes, sour cream, and butter.  And a light salad before that.”

    The canine wrote it down, recovered the menus, then smiled as he spun on his heels.

    “Thanks for making my mind up,” the woman said as she fitted another small cigar to her holder.

    The man chuckled.  “Seeing as how well you loved Eustis’ cooking the other night onboard ship I figured you wanted to return to some ‘civilized’ food.”

    That brought a tinkle of laughter from Beverly as both began to delve into each other’s family histories.  By the time the meal arrived they were laughing over some familial insight that Silas had just mentioned.

    Beverly looked up from slicing off a bite of steak.

    “Are there any other humans out here in the archipelagoes?”

    Silas nodded.  “Besides you and me now, there is Father Gideon over on Lovo Island.  He has managed a leper colony there for twenty years.  Though there are times I would have enjoyed meeting him face to face, he insists that I stay aboard ship while he comes out by boat to take on the supplies he needs.  A pleasant little fellow, his research into this historical disease has opened new grounds into how the affliction operates.  And he has not contracted leprosy at all.  Claims it is God’s will that he remains clean.”  The man shook is head.  “Whatever the reason, he enjoys taking care of those afflicted.”

    “And who else?” asked Beverly.

    The captain frowned.  “A fellow by the name of Burke; don’t know what his first name is, if he has one.  Lives as a recluse way down on Howe’s Atoll, far to the south of Spontoon Island.  Don’t really know who he is or where he came from.  Showed up about eight years ago.  Natives there keep their distance as he is somewhat mad, by their reckoning.”

    “Mad?  How so?”

    With a shrug the man continued.  “Sometimes when one of our other buoy tenders makes a stop to work on a light tower, he would come out as happy as can be, sailing his canoe up to the tender and inquire how things are with the rest of the islands and the world in general.  Other times, he would be a raving lunatic, shouting abuses at the ship and crew, telling them to clear off and leave him in peace.”

    Beverly looked concerned over this.  “Poor fellow.  Has anybody tried to get him some help of any kind?”

    A shake of the head was her answer.  “Everyone just leaves him alone.  Most of the natives there run whenever he shows up, peaceful or not.  To them he is touched by the gods and best to stay away.”

    The nurse didn’t say anything for a while, busy with demolishing her steak.  When she next glanced up it was to catch a glint off of something else gold.

    “What is that medal you’re wearing?”  She pointed with her fork to the object dangling from Silas’ left breast pocket.

    The man glanced down and grunted.  “That’s the Gold Life Saving Award.  I got that for rescuing the crew of the freighter that was torpedoed by that German submarine I told you about.  After they shelled my ship and killed off the senior officers in the bridge.”  Then he indicated the blue and white ribbon above it.  “And this is the Navy Cross, given ‘for meritorious conduct in the course of performing his duties while in combat.’  That one is one step below the Congressional Medal of Honor.”

    Beverly stared wide-eyed.  “Really?” she asked breathlessly.

    Silas nodded.  “My squadron commander wanted me to get the Medal of Honor, but the Navy scuttled that idea, claiming it wasn’t really a combat situation we were in.  Instead, they gave me the Navy Cross.  But the Coast Guard thought I deserved something very special so I got the Life Saving Medal.”  He looked up at his date.  “In the history of the United States military services, close to three thousand Medals of Honor have been awarded, but less than one thousand Life Saving Medals have been given out.  That makes it far more important to me in getting this,” he tapped the medal with the tip of his knife, “ than any other award.  And all it cost me was my left foot.”

    Then a look came across his features as he sat up straight in his chair, fixed his gaze on the woman’s face, and pronounced, “I regret that I had but one foot to give to my country!”

    The other patrons looked up, startled by the sudden outburst of laughter from the blond human woman seated close by.  It took a few minutes for Beverly Plumb to get herself under control before she could resume eating.  The captain kept himself hunched over his meal, red-faced, while trying to keep from furthering the embarrassment of his date.

    But they did manage to finish their food.  The waiter appeared once more, asking if they were ready for desert.  But both patrons declined, feeling that it was best if they moved on to other attractions.  After paying the bill, Silas guided Beverly towards the doors to the foyer.  They waved briefly to Jennifer and Geoffrey as they passed.  In the great hall the captain glanced at the sign leading to the casino.

    “Do you feel lucky tonight?” he asked, nodding towards it.

    Sparing it a look the woman smiled and wrinkled her nose.  “With you, I’ll always feel lucky.”
    It was a contrast in settings as the humans made their way into the casino.  Brighter lights, a smokier atmosphere, and a cacophony of cries, laughter, and curses filled the wide-open space.

    After purchasing chips the pair held a brief council over where to start.  Beverly felt like trying her luck at the craps table.  Silas nodded his agreement.

    The crowd around the table parted to let them in.  They placed their bets and waited for the dice to roll.  Beverly won.  She placed another bet, which doubled on the next roll.  It went on like this for several minutes before the ivory cubes reached her spot.  Taking them up and giving them a quick shake the woman gave a cast and watched as they came up ‘7’.  Not believing her fortune she kept going amazed at how quickly the stack of chips grew.  Silas said nothing.  Wherever his date laid her chips, he followed suit.

    A murmur of French sounded over the woman’s left shoulder, along with a whiff of tobacco smoke.  Beverly turned to see an elegantly dressed pair of Greyhounds watching the proceedings.  Both wore pince-nez glasses, white gloves, and cream colored clothing.  And both smoked, the female holding a long gold toned holder while her mate puffed on a long slender cigar.  They turned to see her watching them; she smiled a greeting.  After several more minutes of success, Beverly turned to the male canine.

    “Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur,” she asked in her passable French, “but can I have one of those?"    Startled by the request the Greyhound turned to his mate.  She merely shrugged while taking a puff of her cigarette.  Reaching into his jacket the canine removed a flat leather case and pulled the cap off.  The woman took the proffered panatela, thanked him, and turned to Silas.  Seeing what she had done the man struck a match from his own case, offering the light.

    “Thanks,” the woman said as she puffed the cigar to life.  Then planting the smoke into the corner of her mouth, Beverly Plumb growled out, “Come on, bones, baby needs a new pair of shoes!”  After a quick shake she rolled them across the green felt to the far end of the table.  A shout went up from the assembled as the black spots totaled ‘11’.

    After a few more minutes of this success the woman passed on the dice, much to the obvious relief of the croupier.  He gave the humans small baskets to carry their winnings in as they turned away to try their luck someplace else.

    “Where to, honey?” Beverly asked as she took a deep drag on her cigar.

    Deep blue eyes scanned the ocean of avians and furries before settling on the blackjack table in a far corner.

    “Aye, we be bound for greener tables, luv,” Silas growled in a pseudo-pirate’s voice as he guided their way through the crowd.

    At the table they found a seat that the man took.  His date stood beside him, pulling on her smoke.  Across the way sat a Weimaraner in a double-breasted suit of light gray silk.  The light glittered off of the monocle set into his right eye.  He nodded greetings to the newcomer before focusing his attention on the dealer.  A card was passed to each player, faced down, before a second card followed, face up.  The captain noted he had a Jack of Hearts showing.  He lifted the corner of his down card.  It was the Ace of Diamonds.  When the dealer indicated whether he wanted another card, Silas looked thoughtful for a moment then motioned ‘No’.  The gray canine across the table looked at his Ten of Spades and buried card before motioning for another card.  The card landed next to the Ten.  It bore the Queen of Clubs.  The canine frowned as he turned over the buried card, which was the Queen of Diamonds.
 
    “Well done, dear,” murmured Beverly into her date’s ear before kissing his forehead.

    “I say, old fellow,” spoke up the Weimaraner, his voice bearing a mild trace of a British accent.  “Not bad for the first go.  Shall we raise the stakes and make it more interesting?”

    A thoughtful look passed over Silas’ countenance again before he nodded his agreement.  So the following plays saw more chips being wagered by the pair until only they alone remained seated at the blackjack table, facing off the dealer’s hand.
 
    For the next half-hour the shares of winning passed evenly between the two until a hand was played that offered a sizable fortune to the victor.  Between human and canine was a silent understanding that this was the final hand.  The gray furred hunter studied his cards, took a puff from his cigarette, then looked at them again.  Silas had only spared a glance at his, keeping his attention on his opponent.  Each would see the other and raise the stakes.  Finally the canine signaled for a card.  It was a Nine of Clubs.  The captain noticed how the other’s eyes narrowed and a lip was drawn into a sneer.  Busted!  Even the dealer went over.  With a quiet turn of a hand Silas lifted his faced down card over.  The Ten of Spades, to go with the Ten of Clubs showing!

    The hush that had settled over the kibitzers broke into laughter and applause.  The canine could only shake his long muzzled head in capitulation, a small smile gracing his lips as his ears flopped along his face.  Beverly gave a shout of glee as she took her date’s bearded face in both hands and bestowed a long kiss on his mouth.  That drew more chuckles from the onlookers.  When he at last came up for air, the man stood and stretched out his hand over the table.  The Weimaraner took it.

    “A most marvelous game, sir,” the canine said, pumping the shake.  “Indeed, sir, I have never seen the likes in all my years of gambling.  Even in Monte Carlo has there ever been such playing.”

    “Thank you very much, sir,” admitted Silas.  “I have not played the game in quite awhile, but felt that tonight was going to be my night.”

    The canine picked up the silver cigarette case from the table and walked around to face the human couple.  The woman had her right arm linked through her date’s left while taking a puff of her cigar.

    “A most fortuitous evening for you, I should say.  But, forgive me my manners.  The name’s Jarvis, Raymond Jarvis, from Coventry.  I was taking the evening off to enjoy the hospitalities of the Marleybone while on business here in the islands.  I had hoped to be here in August for what you natives call ‘Speed Week’.”

    “Speed Week?” asked Beverly through a veil of smoke.

    Turning to her the captain answered, “Yes, dear, its two weeks in August when the Spontoon Island Racing Association hosts the Schneider Cup race.  The nations of the world send their best seaplane racers here to show who has the fastest aircraft on floats.  The Navigational Aid Service assists with providing a couple of our buoy tenders as rescue vessels in the event a plane goes down with troubles.”

    Jarvis took another cigarette from his case and lit it.

    “Yes, a most interesting time, I understand.  Too bad it is during the busiest part of my company’s year.  Would really like to be here then.”

    Silas nodded.  “Maybe next year you could attend?”

    The Weimaraner could only spread his hands.  “Maybe, maybe not, what with the tension in Europe at the moment.  You should understand that.”

    The man pursed his lips as he nodded again.  “I believe I do.  But forgive my manners.  I’m Captain Silas Stanbridge, of the Spontoon Island Navigational Aid Service.  And this is my fiancé, Miss Beverly Plumb.”

    The canine took the woman’s hand and kissed the back of it.

    “Most charmed, madam, as I believe there are not too many of your kind left in the world.  But I will offer my congratulations on your forthcoming nuptials.”

    Beverly’s cheeks blushed.  “Thank you, sir.  And I hope you will have better luck during your stay on the islands.”  She turned to her date.  “Shall we cash our chips and call it a night, dear?”

    As the humans turned away to find the cashier’s cage, Raymond Jarvis watched them leave, taking a drag on his cigarette as his eyes narrowed.

    “Yes, my dear, I believe I will have better luck,” he chuckled to himself.  “Far more than you will ever know.”

    Outside the hotel, the humans were laughing to themselves as they skipped merrily down the steps.  Each had won a sizable fortune during their time at the tables and each bore a check attesting to that fact.  The doorfur had asked if they would need a taxi, but the request was graciously declined.

    “It’s too nice a night to spend in a car,” the woman stated.  So they set off down the sidewalk to make the two-block journey to her hotel.

    With slow steps the couple made their way, arm in arm.  Beverly took a deep pull of her cigar and began blowing smoke rings.  That brought a chuckle from Silas.

    “You sure are enjoying that thing.”

    “Trying to make up for lost time,” she smiled up at him.
    
    They paused under a streetlight long enough to embrace and share a deep kiss.  When they broke the woman took the other’s hat, setting it down over her wavy hair at a rakish angle.

    “Do you think I would look proper on the rolling deck of a ship?”  She smiled after setting the stub of her cigar into the corner of her mouth.

    Taking the stub between his fingers Silas sent it sailing into the gutter as he swept his woman up into his arms again for another round of kissing.  When they broke, no more words were spoken; none were needed, as the feelings for each other were expressed in the way their arms found the others waist and how the woman tilted her head against the man’s shoulder.  With slow, deliberate steps, they faded into the darkness of the night, and the dawn of a new relationship.


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