9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  “Where is that smoke coming from?”

  “The edge of the rainforest. The climate has been slowly growing hotter and drier even here where it rains nearly seventy inches a year. Careless agriculture, industry, and drug trafficking cause fires that spread into the rainforest.” He glanced her direction. “We will go through a burned section along the Pasion River.”

  She couldn’t fathom a fire in the rainforest. Wasn’t everything wet and therefore more likely to snuff out a fire than feed it? Mixed varieties of deciduous trees dotted the landscape of rolling hills covered in yellow grass. The road gradually climbed a steep rock and coniferous forested grade before easing down into a lowland valley once more. The trip was as diverse in scenery as the many native languages of the country.

  They passed through a small town of adobe huts with palm thatched roofs. Women attending chores wore the traditional bright colored skirts and blouses of the region, and the men wore jeans, no shirts or shoes. Children, barefoot and curious, lined the street.

  “Is there a chance to stop and visit?” Her interest in people of other nationalities could never be sated. Peering at their audience she wished to learn more about the Mayans of today.

  Tino shook his head as the vehicle sped away from the village. “I want to get a good distance downriver before the afternoon rain hits.”

  “With the shorter trees and open areas, I forget we’re in a rainforest.” She took in the lowlands with patches of mahogany trees and rolling grass-covered hills around them. Twisting in the seat, she peered back at the town they left behind. “This isn’t the picture you normally see on a documentary about the rainforest.”

  “They do not get as much rain here. We are headed closer to the rainforest and once we get on the river we will be heading into the denser forest.”

  Isabella dug in the duffle bag. “Where’s the drinking water?”

  “Drinks are in the back.”

  Tino pulled the truck over and stepped out. He’d have to be more careful around the doctor. For all her gullibility, she had a mind that deducted and researched. Keeping his true identity a secret from her would be a challenge. He retrieved a can of Gallo and a canteen. He slid under the steering wheel, handed her the canteen, and popped the top on the beer.

  She frowned. “You aren’t going to drink and drive? It isn’t even noon.”

  Her attitude reminded him of his initial perspective of her, when he only knew her name. Sour and bossy. “Yes, this is my beverage of choice since the water around here is unsuitable to drink.” It wasn’t his drink of choice. He only used it as a prop to reinforce his cover of a bum who could only get a job as a guide.

  “But beer? You could purchase juice or soda.” She narrowed her eyes. “What happens if you get drunk and can’t find your way to the dig? We’ll end up stranded in the jungle.”

  “I have never become drunk. I drink only when I am thirsty.” The gall of her to imply he didn’t know his way around the jungle. He sneaked a peek at the Government Issue watch with GPS strapped to his left wrist.

  “I still think you could make a better choice. Alcohol has a drying effect on the body.”

  Tino stabbed her with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding stare. “What is sticking your clothes to you?” A sheen of perspiration glistened her skin, adding more definition to her collarbone and high cheek bones. His blood heated at the sight. He tamped the sensation down. Doctor Mumphrey wasn’t his type, she was out of his league, and he didn’t make attachments. In his line of work all he could enjoy were one nighters, and she wasn’t the one night type.

  Isabella didn’t blush, but the indignant set to her jaw slackened. Her slender fingers unscrewed the lid on the canteen. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back, and raised the vessel to her lips. Contentment transformed her features to the childlike innocence he’d noticed the night before. She slowly drank, savoring each mouthful and swallowing in slow motion. The effect more erotic than anything he’d seen before.

  ¡Coño! Tino stared out the window. The sooner he got her to the dig the better. His protective instincts had kicked in. Not good. Once he dropped her off it was adios intriguing señorita.

  He put the truck in gear and pressed down on the throttle. The truck lurched forward.

  “Hey!”

  Tino glanced over. Her shirt front clung to her chest, emphasizing her nipples and small bumps of breast. He couldn’t pull his gaze from the sight. The small mounds, while not his usual choice, were damn tempting.

  “Why’d you—”

  She shrieked and pointed to the road.

  Tino glanced at the road and swerved the truck in time to avoid hitting a tour bus.

  The truck wobbled then settled as his fingers gripped the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead at the road. His heart hammered at the near collision and his uncontrolled infatuation with the woman’s breasts astounded him. Every woman he’d ever dated had curves and full bodies. This stick-shaped woman shouldn’t cause his brain to mush every time he looked at her.

  “Sheesh, where did you learn how to drive?” Isabella pulled the garment away from her skin, fanning the material.

  He watched from the corner of his eye. She ran a hand up inside her shirt and fluttered the cloth.

  “You’d think in this heat it wouldn’t take long to dry.”

  He nearly groaned as her actions enlarged the sleeve hole, giving him a view of her chest. Tino forced his gaze back to the road and thoughts to the agent in Sayaxche who had a boat waiting for him. Better to set his thoughts on the mission than the distracting woman.

  He’d meet Roberto where the informant rented boats to the tourists and the cartels running up and down the river setting up drug drops and shuffles. Roberto was the DEA’s best informant of activity in the region, and the only person in the region who knew Tino’s true identity and purpose.

  Tino didn’t like having anyone in the area know who he was and why he was there, but he needed the man’s help to get in the area of the new drug shipments.

  He shot a glance at Isabella. The woman’s gullibility could prove troublesome, which meant he should stay with Isabella while she shopped for her items, but he needed time alone with Roberto.

  She’d stopped fanning her shirt. Her attention centered on peeling an avocado with the large knife she took from a pirata. How had she been selected to carry the contraband passports? Did her travel agent set it up? Or was Dr. Martin using his young colleague’s infatuation for him to get passports smuggled into the country and perhaps Mayan artifacts out?

  The thought of her mooning over some old archeologist soured his disposition. She was a good-looking woman, a bit on the thin side, but he knew plenty of men who liked their woman less rounded. She had brains. Too many. Her mind worked fast and conjured up more fiction than a spy novel. He found her wariness of him insulting, but thought it would do her well to use that fear on anyone else she encountered while in Guatemala. He’d found though most of the locals were honest, you never knew when you’d come across someone working in black market organs, adoptions, or drugs. That included the policia.

  “Wow! These are even better down here than in the states.” Green clung to her fingertips as she took another bite of the avocado. “They’re so fresh! People in the states would go bananas to taste this.” She finished the fruit and started to peel another one.

  “Eat that one faster than the last. We have only ten minutes until we reach Sayaxche.” He would have liked to question her about her life. She was a walking contradiction—innocent, brilliant, gullible, and tough. But getting close to her or anyone was a bad idea. His revenge could easily spill over onto anyone he called a friend.

  Chapter 4

  Isabella studied the rustic settlement of Sayaxche. The highway merged with less sophisticated pavement and dirt streets at the edge of town. Adobe, cane, cardboard, and metal formed the sides and roofs of small houses. The town center hosted colorful stucco buildings ranging from pristine condition to crumbling
walls and faded paint. A web of utility wires hovered over and between the structures. Their truck emerged from the narrow street onto a dirt river bank edged with colorful boats of various sizes. The wide murky river sloshed around the boats and slithered onto the bank.

  Tino stopped the truck near a small wooden dock with a handful of less decorative boats.

  Isabella stepped out of the vehicle and stretched. Cars and tour buses were parked to the sides. A wooden ferry carried freight trucks across the water to a road on the opposite shore beginning at the river’s edge and disappearing into the forest.

  “There are few businesses, but I think between the farmacia and the mercado you will find most of what you need.” Tino locked the truck and waited for her to join him at the front of the vehicle. “I will show you the stores then come back and load our supplies into the boat.”

  Isabella nodded and fell into step, taking in all the sights and people as Tino strode along the dirt path. Mostly groups of tourists hovered along the river bank, but as they walked the streets, she noted the locals and their curious gazes. If Tino left her alone, she could spend some time conversing with the locals. The thought hurried her feet along. The faster she got rid of him, the sooner she could nourish her passion of learning about different cultures.

  “Here is the farmacia and just over there,” Tino pointed down the street, “is the mercado.” He put a hand on her arm, drawing her attention to him. The heat of his hard palm and his solemn gaze captured her attention. “This town is usually safe, but be careful. You are a gringo woman and alone.”

  She waved off his concern. “I won’t attract trouble. You’re starting to sound like Virgil.”

  Tino’s eyebrows rose. “Then trouble follows you?”

  Heat hotter than the climate rose up her neck and scalded her cheeks. “No.”

  He continued to stare at her. His dark blue probing gaze caused her feet to shuffle, her heart to race, and her gaze to drop to her dusty toes.

  “Do your best to not find trouble. I would like to head downstream in an hour.” He squeezed her arm and spun on his heel, striding away from her.

  The words flowed over her as a caress rather than a reprimand. She rubbed her upper arm and watched his long, graceful, confident strides. A few spots and a long tail and he’d fit right alongside a jaguar in the jungle. She shook off those thoughts and stepped to the door of the pharmacy.

  She pulled out her list and walked to the counter. “¿Hola, Me podría ayudar encuentre estos artículos?”

  The man behind the counter grinned. He couldn’t read her list written in English. She tried to explain the items if she didn’t know the exact words. Her Spanish reflected the dialect of the many Mesoamerican languages she studied, making it hard at times for the clerk to understand exactly what she said. She, however, left the pharmacy smiling. There were only a few items left to find at the mercantile.

  She’d managed to learn a little about the people of Sayaxche while they searched the store for her items. Most of the population were Mayan descendants from the Petén region. The store clerk was proud of his heritage. She agreed with him that he had every right to be proud. His predecessors were highly intelligent people.

  Isabella stepped into the street, her purchases tucked into her backpack.

  The hum of an engine purred along the street behind her. She moved to the side, but the vehicle didn’t pass. The mercado was half a block away. The sides painted in colorful advertisements beckoned to her like a butterfly to a vibrant flower. The hair on her arms tingled as the vehicle continued to follow. Isabella glanced over her shoulder at the mud-brown car. Two men sat in the front seat, both dressed better than the locals. They smiled and nodded, but something about them sent a shiver of apprehension slithering up her back.

  She ducked into the store and immediately captured the attention of the clerk. “Hola, necesito éstos.”

  The man smiled. “I have anything you could need, no?”

  “Oh, thank goodness, you speak English. I had a hard time explaining my needs to the other store owner.” She forgot her unease in the street and followed the man to the back of the store and a pile of fishing vests. She tried on the ones with the most pockets. After she found one that fit well, she made sure it also had two inside pockets with snaps.

  Following the store owner up and down the aisles, she picked up the remainder of her items. An army knife, water-proof matches, foil, braided fishing line, hooks, snare wire, knife blades, magnetized sewing needles, and safety pins. She paid for the items. “Do you have a room where I can change?”

  The man showed her a small, simple room in the back of the store. It would do. She only needed room to spread out her newly purchased items and secure them in her vest along with her valuables.

  “Gracias.” She smiled at the man and closed the door. There wasn’t a lock. Fearful someone might barge in, she shoved the small table up against the door. She dumped all her purchased items on the table. Items allowed on the plane, like her micro LED flashlight, nutrition bars, and water purification pills she pulled out of her backpack pockets. Emptying the last half of a tin of mints into a small vest pocket, she popped one in her mouth and filled the container with the necessities for survival.

  On the bottom of the tin, she placed a small signal mirror, two x-acto blades, several yards of nylon string, two magnetized sewing needles, a Fresnel magnifier, safety pins, and two feet of aluminum foil folded into a small square. She rolled mini magnesium fire starter and tinder tabs in a sealed bag and taped it. Using the knife, she chopped off an inch of a candle and tucked it into a corner of the tin, placing the remainder of the candle in her backpack. Two quart-sized zip-lock bags were folded into a small square along with a glass vial of twenty water purification tablets. She wound fifty feet of braided fishing line on a sewing bobbin and nestled it in the tin along with a plastic tube of hooks and swivels. Ten feet of twenty-four gauge snare wire looped around the inside of the tin.

  Snapping the lid shut, she placed it in a pocket of the vest and smiled with satisfaction. She was now prepared for anything. These items would ensure her survival if she became separated from Tino or later, God forbid, she ended up lost in the jungle or in the ruin.

  She pulled a roll of zip-lock plastic bags from her backpack and filled one with her first-aid items, stuffing it in one of the pockets on the vest. Another plastic bag was filled with nutrition bars and added to a pocket. Last, she pulled her driver’s license, passport, travelers checks, and health record from her backpack, placing them in a water proof bag and storing the information in one of the inside pockets of the vest. In the other inside pocket, she placed her journal and a pencil.

  After she’d stored the extra items in her pack, she slipped her arms into her long-sleeved shirt, pulled on wool socks, and laced up her boots. The heat in the room beaded perspiration on her forehead. She donned the vest, buttoning it up the front, and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

  Isabella shoved the table away from the door. The hot stifling air of the small area proved more sultry than the humidity outdoors. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face. She stepped out of the room, light-headed and groggy.

  “Seño, you need something for your head if you are traveling on the river, no?” The clerk held a wide-brimmed palm-leaf hat out.

  “Gracias.” She handed him five quetzals from an outside pocket of her backpack.

  “Por favor, seño!” He dropped the coins in his pocket. “You are always welcome to my store.”

  She nodded and stepped out into the hot sun, thankful the man had suggested the wide-brimmed hat. It provided more sun protection and breathability than her canvas hat.

  “Señorita viene, Mi abuelo dijo que usted quiso ver nuestra herencia.” A boy of about six grasped her hand and tugged.

  “Your grandfather has something to show me?” Isabella followed the child’s small finger as he pointed back to the first store she’d entered. The clerk’s enthusiasm about his
people had been infectious. What could this child and his grandfather wish to show her about the history of the Mayans? She glanced around and then down at the boy’s excited face. Her curiosity won out over any mistrust. She allowed the child to lead her down the alley.

  *~*

  Tino glanced at his watch.

  She was late.

  Fifteen minutes late.

  “Roberto, watch my things.” He stomped up the street. What could possibly take that long to purchase? Granted, she had a long list, but she had a list. It wasn’t like she had to make up her mind about the items.

  He stalked into the mercado and peered up and down the aisles.

  “May I help you, señor?” A small man, most likely the owner, scurried up to him.

  “Has a gringa señorita with reddish-brown hair been in here?”

  “Sí. She was charming, no?”

  ¡Coño! Where did she go? “How long since she left?”

  “Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.” His earlier cheerful smile faded. “Is she missing?”

  “Did you see which direction she went?” Tino couldn’t squelch the unease tightening his chest. He didn’t want something to happen to the doctor for professional reasons and personal. It wouldn’t look good on his report that he lost a civilian he was using to infiltrate the drug traffic, and he didn’t want to think what could happen to sweet Isabella should she get caught up in his job.

  “Pedro’s grandson was talking to her.” The man stepped out the door and pointed to the farmacia.

  “Gracias.” He jogged up the road to the other store. Tino burst through the door. “Pedro!”

  A man old enough to be his abuelo stepped from behind the counter. “¿Si?”

  “¿Dónde tomó su nieto a la mujer de gringa?” He questioned Isabella’s whereabouts.

  The old man shook his head. “No sé.”