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looked caved in,
his arms long and ungainly and spotted by the sun, the flesh loose
on thin bones. Plastic eyeglasses hung from a chain. His
breast pocket drooped with pens, a doctor’s penlight, a pair
of sunglasses, a small white plastic ruler. He carried an
old black leather medical bag.
    As I stood, he waved and came forward in an ungainly,
headfirst lope.
    Not a camel. A flamingo.
    Touching his lips to Pam’s cheek, he said, “Evening,
kitten.”
    “Hi, Dad.”
    The narrow mouth widened a millimeter. “Miss
Castagna. A pleasure, dear.” He gave Robin’s fingertips a
brief, double-hand clasp, then took my hand, sighing, as if
he’d been waiting a long time to do it.
    “Dr. Delaware.”
    His hand was dry and limp,
exerting feeble pressure, then slipping away like a windblown
leaf.
    “I’m bringing you dinner,” said Gladys. “And don’t tell
me you grabbed a snack in the village.”
    “I didn’t,” said Moreland, putting his palms together.
“I promise, Gladys.”
    He sat down and inspected his napkin before unfolding
it. “I trust you’ve been well taken care of. Any
seasickness coming over?”
    We shook our heads.
    “Good.
Madeleine
’s a fine craft and Alwyn’s the best
of the supply captains. She used to belong to a sportsman from
Hawaii. Runs fine on sails, but Alwyn upgraded the engines
and he really makes good time. He babies that boat.”
    “How many boats make the run?” I said.
    “Three to six, depending on orders, circulating among
the smaller islands. On the average, we get one or two loads
twice a month.”
    “Must be expensive.”
    “It does inflate the cost of goods.”
    Cheryl returned with two plates piled high with
everything we’d eaten but the chicken. Beans had been added
to the rice. She set the food in front of Moreland and he
smiled up at her.
    “Thank you, dear. I hope your mother doesn’t expect me
to finish all this.”
    Cheryl giggled and scurried off.
    Moreland took a deep breath and raised a fork. “How’s
your little bulldog faring?”
    “Sleeping off the boat ride,” I said.
    Robin said, “Matter of fact, I’d better go check on him.
Excuse me.”
    I walked her to the stairway. When I got back, Moreland
was looking at his food but hadn’t touched it. Pam was
sitting in place, not moving.
    Moreland’s eyes drifted up to the black sky. For a
moment they seemed clouded. Then he blinked them clear. Pam
was fiddling with her napkin ring.
    “I think I’ll take a walk,” she said, rising.
    “Good night, kitten.”
    “Nice to meet you, Dr. Delaware.”
    “Nice to meet you.”
    Another exchange of pecks and she was gone. Moreland
took a forkful of rice and chewed slowly, washing it down
with water. “I’m
very
happy to finally meet you.”
    “Same here, doctor.”
    “Call me Bill. May I call you Alex?”
    “Of course.”
    “How are your accommodations?”
    “Great. Thanks for everything.”
    “What did you think of my Stevenson quote?”
    The question threw me. “Nice touch. Great writer.”
    “Home is the sailor,” he said. “This is
my
home, and
it’s my pleasure to have you here. Stevenson never made it
to the northern Marianas but he did have a feel for island
life. Great thinker as well as a great writer. The great
thinkers have much to offer. .   .   . I have high hopes for
our project, Alex. Who knows what patterns will emerge when we
really get into the data.”
    He put the fork down.
    “As I mentioned, I’m particularly interested in mental
health problems because they always pose the greatest
puzzles. And I’ve seen some fascinating cases.”
    He aimed the pouchy eyes at me. “For example, years ago
I encountered a case of—I suppose the closest label would
be lycanthropy, but it really wasn’t classical lycanthropy.”
    “A wolf-man?”
    “A cat
woman.
Have you seen that?”
    “During my training I saw schizophrenics with
transitory animal hallucinations.”
    “This was more than transitory. Thirty-year-old