Ari settled next to Rafe, their elbows barely brushing. With her tin cup wrapped in both hands, she gazed fondly at the river. Two squadrons of brightly colored parrots swooped overhead. Then a white egret, a cousin to the great blue heron, came winging by, slow and graceful, on the lookout for frogs along the banks of the river.
“I’m going to miss all this,” she admitted softly. “The quiet. The beauty. New York City is noisy, dirty and polluted. People are crushed together, unrelenting waves of humanity on the sidewalks, in the subways….”
Rafe gave her a sideways glance. “It is a different world, mi flor.”
She managed a painful half smile. Drowning in the warmth of his gaze, she uttered, “And more than anything, I’m going to miss you, Rafe.” Ari felt the words jam up in her throat. Her heart felt heavy in her breast. “I—there’s so much I want to say to you, Rafe, but the time—it isn’t right and I know it. I have to go home. I have to try and sell the book…and face my father….”
“Shh, mi flor,” he whispered, his voice catching. “I understand. More than you realize.”
After searching his sad features, Ari’s gaze dropped to his strong, wonderful mouth. The corners were drawn inward with pain. That was how she felt, too. “I’m going to miss how you share your feelings with me. It has been so easy living here with you. And I feel like I’ve grown a decade by being here. I feel different, in a good way, about myself now.” She tore her gaze from his, sipped her coffee and stared out at the river. “When I came, I was a shy little shadow running away from myself. I didn’t believe in me. I didn’t believe I could draw one orchid, much less forty of them. Leaving here today, I feel strong and good, Rafe. About myself. About the book that you’ve helped me with so much.” She smiled at him. “The stories you’ve given me as text really make the drawings of the orchids come alive. They aren’t just pretty pictures. There is meaning, legend and symbology behind each one of them.”
He nodded. “Chief Aroka helped us a lot, too, don’t forget.”
“Don’t worry, when I sell this book, my acknowledgement page is going to have the names of everyone who helped me. Especially Inca, who gave me the incredible gift of just being herself. What a role model she’s been to me.” Ari’s gaze softened. “And you’ll be the first person I name.” Unable to help herself, she reached over and slid her hand over his, where it rested on his knee. She saw him tense momentarily. They’d not touched one another since that fateful night when he’d wept in her arms. Oh, how she longed to have him touch her again! But Ari was mature enough to know that she didn’t want to lead Rafe on like that. It wasn’t fair to him—or to her.
Gripping her fingers in his, Rafe gave her a gentle smile in return. “Getting the book sold should be your only focus now.”
Reluctantly, Ari withdrew her fingers. “I bought a writer’s reference book that has all the publishers listed. I made an A list of ten of them that I’m going to contact as soon as I land in New York. I don’t know what will happen, or even if the editors will see me or not. But I’ve got to try….” A heated sensation throbbed in her lower body. How many times had she wondered what it would be like to love Rafe? And then the fear that she would never be good enough, that she would fail, inevitably chilled her.
Slipping his hand back around the tin cup he held, Rafe said confidently, “All you have to do is show them your exquisite drawings, and they will be helpless to say anything but yes to publishing your book.”
Ari laughed. “That’s not how real-life publishing goes, from my understanding. No, I’m prepared to knock on a lot of doors and get a lot of no’s flung in my face. It might take weeks…even months to get it sold, but that’s what I’ll do.”
“And your father? How do you think he’s going to react to you being in New York by yourself? You said he expects you to come home to your apartment in Georgetown?”
“Mmm, that.” Ari sighed and frowned. “He’s my biggest obstacle, Rafe. Every time I think of him, of having to call him once I land in the U.S., my stomach clenches. I thought about using the Iridium phone, but I just needed this time alone. I did write him several letters, though. I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ll kowtow to him just like before.” With a shake of her head, she murmured, “Inca made me realize in her own way that my father has me—or had me—under his thumb. I was his do-bee. Do this. Do that. Do his bidding. Do what he wanted. Well—” she pushed several strands away from her eyes “—I can’t go home and do that. I have to be strong enough to stand up to him.”
“Yes,” Rafe said quietly, “there comes a time in everyone’s life where they must leap out of the nest and fly on their own.”
She nodded. “You did that with your father when you walked away from his plans for you, from the business he wanted you to eventually run.”
“There’s a price to pay,” Rafe said carefully. “I only hope your father will not be as pigheaded as mine was, and disown you because you want to have a life of your own after your book sells. I hope he doesn’t expect you to work on Wall Street and crunch numbers.” He smiled at her. She looked exquisite this morning, her lips soft and slightly parted, her eyes the color of the pale sky above them, with gold in their depths. Rafe knew how happy Ari was here. The rain forest had embraced her, had loved her, and she had loved it in return. And now she was leaving.
Ari was about to speak when she heard the chut-chut-chut of a tug coming. Standing up, cup in hand, she craned her neck. Sure enough, a brightly painted red-and-white tug was chugging up the channel toward the houseboat. For a moment, she felt a keen thrill of excitement, like that of a knife slicing through her heart. And simultaneously, she felt like crying. She didn’t want to leave Rafe. Ari was fairly sure that she loved him. Oh, they’d never spoken about it. No, since that catalytic night in the hold, he’d backed off, given her room and kept their friendship warm but without the touches and kisses of before.
How much she missed all that! Setting the cup down on the log, she gave Rafe a helpless smile. “My taxi is here….”
Rising, he said, “Let me get your luggage for you. I’ll transfer it to the tug.”
Standing there, she watched Rafe move toward their home. And it was a home for Ari. Fighting back tears, she gulped unsteadily. Forcing herself to move, she slowly followed him.
Rafe moved the luggage to the tug. The captain, a dark-skinned Indian by the name of Pablo, his front teeth missing, helped Rafe put the luggage on the deck. Ari stood on shore, her heart beating hard in her chest. Beneath her arm, encased in plastic, were the four sketchbooks filled with orchids she’d drawn for the book.
“Just a moment,” Rafe told her, and he trotted quickly back to the houseboat and up the ramp.
Puzzled, Ari watched as he moved to the cockpit. As he emerged, he was smiling and holding something in his large hand. As he strode down the ramp and over to where she stood, her eyes widened enormously. There, in his hand, was an incredible orchid she’d never seen before.
“Oh, Rafe!” she cried, reaching out as he handed it gently to her.
Seeing the joy in her eyes, the way her mouth lifted, he felt his heart exploding in his chest. There was everything to love about Ari, from her innocent reactions to the beauty of the orchids to her powerful response to life—and to him. As their fingers met and touched, he placed the blossom, actually a spray of four, each one white with a pink lip, into her hand.
“Here, mi flor, a parting gift from my heart to your heart,” he whispered, as he held her luminous gaze. “This is Encyclia randii. I purposely did not show this one to you because I knew you would leave, and the legend about it belongs to someone who goes away. When a man gives a woman this orchid, he hopes that she will one day return to him.” His fingers closed carefully over hers and over the orchid. As he held her tearful gaze, his voice broke. “The man, as the legend goes, hopes that by giving the woman he cares for the orchid, she will one day, at the right time, present it back to him upon her return. This is the orchid of farewell
and new beginnings. I want you to have it…. It’s very rare….”
Choking on a sob, Ari stared at the orchid. “Look at the colors, Rafe. It’s so incredibly beautiful….”
“Hauntingly beautiful. More ghost than real,” he agreed in a quiet tone. She was so close. He wanted to kiss her goodbye. His head said no, to keep his distance. Yet as Rafe looked up into her eyes and saw the tears fall across her flushed cheeks, he moved forward.
Taking Ari into his arms, mindful she had the sketchpads beneath her left arm and the orchid in her right hand, he slid his hands along her shoulders. “May I kiss you goodbye?” he asked huskily.
Ari quivered as his strong, capable fingers slid along her linen-jacketed shoulders. “Yes…oh, yes…please?” she whispered, and leaned up on tiptoe, her breasts brushing against his chest.
Groaning softly, Rafe slid his hand upward along her long, slender neck and framed her face. Looking deeply into her tear-damp eyes, he leaned down…down to capture her orchidlike lips, which were parted, bathed in her tears and waiting for him.
His world centered only on Ari. On her mouth opening like the ripe blossom of an orchid to the rays of sunlight as he connected with her. Sliding his mouth tenderly along hers, like a butterfly brushing them, he whispered, “You are in my heart, Ari. You always will be….”
As his mouth took hers more strongly, she moaned and sank against his tall, strong body. She could taste the coffee on his mouth, the scent of the lime soap he’d used in his recent shower. Her heart soared. More tears fell, met and melded against their clinging mouths. Never had she loved anyone as she loved Rafe. And she had to leave him.
Rafe eased his mouth from hers. He tasted the salt of her tears upon his lips. Gently smoothing the tendrils of hair around her face, he tried to smile and failed. “Once the orchid begins to die, press it for me? And when you want, bring it back to me. I’ll be here, waiting for it…and you….”
Ari cried off and on throughout the flight back to the United States. When Condor Airlines landed at JFKInternationalAirport, she walked as if she had a million pounds of fear upon her shoulders. When she realized she was becoming like her old self again, her shoulders rounded, her head hanging down, she gave herself a good talking to. After Rafe had given her the orchid, she’d attached the spray to her hair, and every so often she would touch it to ensure that it was still in place. Touching it was almost like having Rafe beside her.
After she made her way through Customs, and then out into the airy terminal packed with thousands of human beings like bees coming and going from their hive, Ari retrieved her luggage. Weighted down, she glumly walked outside. Night had fallen and in the distance she could see the brightly lit skyline of Manhattan. This was her destiny. Grimly she flung back her shoulders and forced herself to lift her chin. If Inca saw her so down, she’d pounce on her like a jaguar and give her a chastising she’d not soon forget.
Making her step more confident, Ari sought out a cabbie and got into his bright yellow vehicle. Her plans for New York had been made before she’d left for Brazil. She’d done her homework on which hotel she wanted to stay in. The Sun-flower Hotel was located in the heart of New York, near where most publishers had offices.
Tiredness ate at her. The flight had been long and exhausting. She wished to be home, with Rafe, at the houseboat. Already she missed him so much. Ari had relied on his levelheaded maturity. He’d been a wonderful and patient teacher. And how she’d grown beneath his nurturing!
Rubbing her chest, her heart aching without respite, Ari forced herself to think ahead. Once she got to the hotel at 42nd Street and Lexington, she would have to call her father and let him know she was back. Her stomach clenched. What would he say?
“Ari! You’re back. Thank God.”
Ari stood over the phone next to her bed in the hotel. Her heart was beating with fear. “Hi, Father. How are you?”
“I’m fine. But you? Where are you calling from? Are you at your Georgetown condo?”
Her heart fell. Her fingers wrapped spasmodically around the phone. “No…I’m not. I’m in New York City. Remember? I told you that after I got the drawings completed, and the text, I was going to try and sell the book?”
“You’re where?”
She closed her eyes and sat down on the edge of the queen-size bed. He hadn’t changed one whit in three months. And Ari felt like she was a new person, in comparison to him. “Father, nothing has changed. I’m staying in New York until I can sell my book.”
“Don’t tell me you managed to actually draw orchids?” She heard the sarcasm in his deep voice.
At first Ari was crushed. And then anger flared inside her. She remembered what Inca had said about people who wanted to disempower her; that it was up to her to first recognize it, then stop it, and keep her own truth at the center of her heart. Moving the phone from her right hand to her left, she allowed the anger to be heard in her voice. The old Ari would have been cowed and spoken in a soft, apologetic tone. She didn’t do that now.
“Father, it’s obvious you don’t think I’m capable of doing anything on my own. I may not have my mother’s talent, but I can draw orchids pretty well. Anyway, an editor will determine that, not you or me.”
“Don’t you get snotty with me, young lady—”
“I’m not being snotty. I’m being honest. You’re not taking away from me what I’ve done,” she said, her voice wobbling with anger.
“What the hell has gotten into you, Ari? Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m footing all your damn bills for this little escapade. The least you owe me is respect, not anger.”
Shaking now, the adrenaline flooding through her, Ari sat with her right fist clenched on her lap. “That’s another thing I was going to talk to you about, Father. I’m staying here in New York and I’ll get a job. I don’t care if it’s a menial job or not. I’m staying in this city, making the rounds, knocking on doors until I get this book sold.”
“Dammit, Ari! Has going down to Brazil made you crazy?”
Tears jammed her eyes. She scrunched them shut and forced the tears back. This was not a time to cry. Her father always took her tears as a sign of weakness. But right now, she felt scared and overwhelmed. Recalling how many times Rafe had placed himself in real danger for others fueled her. Ari had a mission to accomplish for her mother. She saw her father as an enemy trying to stop her. “Yes, it’s made me crazy! I’ve finally gotten out from beneath your thumb, Father. I’ve had three months to find out who Ari Worthington is. And I’m not going to cower any more. I’m going ahead with this dream of mine.”
“You’ve lost your senses, young lady! Now, I’m going to send one of my attachés up there and—”
Ari slammed the phone down. She sat there, shaking visibly. Fists tight in her lap, she tried to breathe deeply, to center herself as Inca had taught her. Within a minute, she felt calmer. Her heart was settling back down. Reaching over, she touched the waxy, thick petals of the orchid Rafe had given her, which now sat in a small glass of water on the bedstand. She could almost feel his smile, his approval of her standing up to her father.
“Well, I’ve burned all my bridges, Rafe and Inca. You’re probably cheering me on, and I’m scared to death….” Looking around, worried and fretting, Ari knew that her hundred-dollar-a-night hotel room would have to go, and soon. She’d saved some money, but not enough to stay in such a place for long. No, she’d have to get a job—fast. Looking around the Victorian-style room, she chewed on her lower lip. How she wished Rafe was here. He made her feel strong, as if she could accomplish anything she set out to do.
Lonely as never before, Ari got up and started to unpack her sketchbooks. She brought them back to the bed and sat down, the first one across her lap. One day, when Rafe was working on his reports at the campfire, she’d made a sketch of him. She’d never shown it to him for fear he’d laugh at her. Turning to that page, she sighed as she studied the sketch. He was in profile, his face clean and strong looking.
She had many canisters of film yet to be developed, including a number of photographs of him, but Ari knew she’d have to get a job first in order to be able to afford the processing.
Briefly touching his tousled black hair, she closed her eyes and imagined that she was threading her fingers through his hair once more, as she had that night she’d held him. That night was indelibly branded upon her heart, her spirit. No man had ever trusted her enough to cry in her arms. Rafe was so different from all the other men she’d encountered in her life thus far. Opening her eyes, she glumly looked around the room.
Well, tomorrow a new chapter in her life would begin; she had to find a job and then start knocking on editors’ doors. Frightened as never before, Ari knew she’d have to walk through her fear and keep her eyes on her dream. Glancing at the orchids, she wanted more than anything to be home with Rafe. In Amazonia. Was that a dream, too? Could she make it come true? Rafe wanted her back. He had not said he loved her, but in her heart, she knew he did. And she thought she understood why he hadn’t said those words to her. He was a throwback to ages past, when a man was a courtly gentleman. A Victorian era aristocrat who respected her completely. Enough to allow her the freedom to follow her dream of having her book published.
As Ari listlessly stood and opened her suitcase to find her nightgown, she remembered Rafe telling her that if love was real between a man and a woman, it allowed each of them to walk their own path. That marriage, to him, was a partnership, and that each partner had to respect the other’s passions and dreams. Well, he was giving her that freedom now. And he’d given her an orchid that was an open invitation to go back home. How desperately she wanted to! Being in a large city, alone, without friends or help, was daunting. Yet Ari knew she had to do this. Inca had told her that there were tests in everyone’s life, where they had to walk a gauntlet of fire alone. Those that had the heart, the faith in themselves and the driving need to reach their goals would survive.
Man of Passion Page 14
