9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  Three men with guns led the pack string and three followed. The leader and another man entered the cave. In his past trips to the cave, Tino had witnessed a small contingent of narcos. If the two who entered the cave were the only ones here, he had a chance to get inside and look around. The load that just left and the unwatched entrance led him to believe he would find little, but he needed to know the layout for future reference.

  Tino crept up to the cave entrance, crouched inside the opening out of sight of anyone approaching, and listened. Muffled scrapes and low voices filtered down the dimly lit tunnel. He stood, pressing his back against the cave wall and cautiously sidestepped toward the voices and light.

  He hung back in the shadows and watched the two men. They sat on folding chairs pulled up to a crate. One shuffled cards while the other placed bottles of Gallo on the makeshift table. Beyond them gaped a continuation of the cave. The area where the two played cards held only staples for daily needs. No bundled drugs or loose artifacts lay around.

  He had to get past the men and into the cave. Backtracking, he found a protruding boulder barely large enough to hide his crouching body. He prayed that in the dim light and in pursuit of an intruder, they wouldn’t notice him hiding behind the rock.

  Tino picked up several rocks the size of his fists and tossed two toward the men, then sent one bouncing back toward the entrance and ducked behind the rock. Within seconds, the narcos ran past him toward the entrance. Tino jumped to his feet and bolted for the dimly lit area, running through the space where the men played cards, he charged into the dark passage of the cave beyond.

  Once the darkness wrapped around him, he slowed his pace, extracting a small penlight from his pocket. Damp earth cooled the passage and awakened memories of the dank moldy apartment his family had lived in when they first arrived in the United States. His chest ached at the memories of his mother and father working menial jobs to support them until his father obtained his teaching credentials and they moved into a house more befitting a university professor. He and his brother then attended a private school where they could be monitored for fear their past would catch up to them.

  Pushing the memories from his mind, he continued to follow the small glow of his penlight for fifteen minutes through the passageway. If he spread his arms he’d touch both sides at once. The narrow passage opened up into a small area that held buckets of artifacts and bundles of…he rubbed his finger over the powdery substance on the bundles. Touching his tongue to his finger he cringed at the bitter taste of opium.

  Half the amount of bundles that left on the donkeys stood against the wall. He flashed the light around the area and found another passage just as well traveled as the one leading him into this chamber. Tino counted the bundles, set the number in his memory, and headed into the next tunnel.

  He traveled in the dark for an hour before sounds and a small spot of light filtered down the tunnel toward him. His penlight, beamed at the ground, illuminated stone steps ascending toward the light and voices.

  “What do you bloody mean you can’t go any farther on this corridor? The glyphs state this is the way to riches.” Walsh’s booming voice carried in the darkness.

  Tino glanced at his watch. Underground the GPS did him little good. He had no idea which direction he’d traveled following the tunnel. Was he at the dig or somewhere else that Walsh had a hand in? The man got around.

  Not wishing anyone to know about this tunnel to the narcos’ drug stash until he had re-enforcements brought in to confiscate the goods, he’d sit tight and wait for the workers and Walsh to leave. His stomach rumbled. It could be a long wait.

  *~*

  Isabella finished copying the designs on the urn and replaced it in the crate. Eunice had long since left for lunch. Isabella’s stomach growled. She’d appease the gluttonous organ now that she had the information she wanted. The woman’s face on the urn haunted her thoughts as she walked to the mess tent. Small glyphs around the bottom of the urn reminded her of others she’d seen in the altar chamber.

  Her feet started to turn toward the dig, but her mutinous stomach overrode her feet and she entered the mess tent. To her relief she was the only occupant. The others were evidently taking a siesta after their lunch and avoiding the heat of the midday sun.

  Pedro hurried forward. “Where have you been? The others have eaten and gone back to work, no?”

  “I was busy. But I’d love some juice and food.” She sat close to the door, enjoying the slight breeze that blew through the mosquito netting.

  Pedro hurried back to the kitchen and returned with a tall glass of juice and a plate filled with tortillas, cheese, and fruit.

  “Gracias.” She rolled cheese in the warm tortilla and bit into the savory combination. “If you ever want to set up a restaurant in the States, give me a call. I’d vouch for your culinary prowess.”

  “I enjoy feeding people who take pleasure from food.” He winked. “Food pleases you, no?”

  “Very much.” She thought of something else that pleased her very much. Where was Tino right now? Was he off looking for jaguars or more dangerous animals? Until his confession he was not a guide, though she’d suspected as much, she hadn’t worried about him. Now, knowing he worked a dangerous job, she worried. Couldn’t help herself. In a short time, he had become more important to her than anyone else in her life. And not just because of the wonderful way he made her body feel, but because he listened to what she had to say. Truly listened.

  She finished the food and thanked Pedro. If she kept her mind busy it wouldn’t have time to dwell on Tino’s adventures. Rather than track Virgil down for permission to use books he’d already given her permission to use, she hurried to his tent. He’d be in the dig. He never took a siesta. She wasn’t even sure he slept at night because his lantern burned at all hours. She entered his tent. It hadn’t changed much since the other day when she’d used his reference books.

  The book she wanted sat on top of the others. Coincidence? Or was Virgil on the cusp of figuring out what they sought? Thinking of his cruel remarks and tossing Tino out of camp, she couldn’t bring herself to remain in Virgil’s tent. She took the book outside and sat on the grass, opening the book on her lap.

  There they were. The symbols she’d tried to figure out the other day. They represented the name of a woman. She stared across the compound, unseeing. The woman who was sacrificed. Isabella’s stomach churned. The sacrifice of the virgin made the moon god cry. What about this particular woman left sorrow rather than hope? For the sacrifices were gifts to the gods to bring good weather and crops.

  Sadness for this woman wrapped around her heart. Clutching the book to her chest, Isabella returned to her tent and lay down. She needed to sleep. That had to be why this information caused her so much grief. She was tired.

  But sleep eluded her. Her mind spun with the drawings, the sadness, and restlessness. Finally, unable to shake the images and unease, Isabella rose, crossed the compound, and entered the dig site. Something compelled her to read the glyphs and look at the carvings in the altar chamber once more.

  The workers glanced up as she entered. Virgil eyed her and then the book clutched in her arms.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, stepping forward.

  “I need to see the carvings on the wall in the other chamber.” Without missing a step, she continued into the chamber. Virgil’s footsteps echoed behind her. Isabella placed the book, open to the pages she had read, on the sacrificial altar. She stepped to her left and studied the drawings on the wall with more interest than on the day before.

  The story made more sense after connecting the urn, the glyphs she didn’t know, and then this artwork. It played out in her head as if she stood watching the event.

  “What are you finding?” Virgil stood next to her.

  Her skin grew cold and her heart raced with fear. He means you harm. He brings evil. A voice in her head warned. The voice and her reactions to Virgil were illogical, but her intelli
gence knew there were some things that couldn’t be explained. Like her drive to learn all she could about the native people of the Americas.

  The urgent voice felt more a friend than Virgil at this moment. She shook her head. “Nothing. I thought I’d found something that connected, made sense of the stone and glyphs. I-I was wrong.”

  His eyebrows rose and he stared at her. Doubt shimmered in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. And why should he? She walked in here—the dampness of her clothes registered as her mind divorced itself from the story. She’d walked into the dig wet from rain pouring outside. Rain she hadn’t even noticed until now. She’d been in a trance, induced by her knowledge that the pieces put together would give her answers.

  A worker stuck his head into the chamber. “Señor, we leave for dinner.”

  Virgil waved him away and took another step toward her. Instinct moved her feet back. His eyes widened then cloaked.

  “Are you coming to dinner?” The tone wasn’t an invitation but more an accusation.

  “No, I had a late lunch and want to remain here a while longer to see if I didn’t overlook something.” She didn’t really want to stay here alone, but she also didn’t want to be with Virgil. The whole trance-like episode, the voice, and her unease with a family friend left her unsure of anything at the moment. Least of all acting normal.

  “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I could help. We are in this together.”

  “That’s the crux. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I see it.” She offered a weak smile. “I think?”

  Virgil studied her a moment longer then pivoted on his heel and left the chamber.

  His departure lessened the tension in her shoulders and lightened the air. She walked over to the altar and ran her hands over the polished stone. Cold chilled her back. Her mind numbed as fear and regret entered her chest.

  What did it feel like to be placed upon this stone and know that you would never see another day or embrace love?

  Chapter 17

  Tino waited until he no longer heard Martin’s voice. He climbed the stairway, easing his foot onto each stone before putting his full weight on them. A large rock blocked the top of the stairs. Light glowed from a small peephole to the side of the rock, lower than his height. Through the hole, he watched Isabella study the wall. Her expression grew sadder with each meter she walked around the room.

  He grasped a stick protruding from the large stone and shoved. The rock slid sideways scraping along the floor, but moving easier than he’d expected. He stepped into the chamber.

  Isabella spun toward him, her eyes wide and full of fear.

  “Mi pichón.” Tino opened his arms, and Isabella drifted into his embrace. “I did not mean to scare you.” He kissed her head and hugged her tight. This woman never had cause to fear him.

  She snuggled against him, pressing her trembling body deeper into his embrace.

  “You are trembling. What is wrong?” Tino tipped her face up to peer into her eyes. Dilated pupils stared past his head, trance-like. Had Martin drugged her? Anger grew like an ocean wave cresting and crashing into full rage. He hadn’t trusted the man from the beginning. Isabella’s father was a fool to trust his money and his daughter to the archeologist. The shaking woman in his arms couldn’t know the depth of his rage. He drew in a calming breath and focused on caring for her. He’d confront the archeologist later.

  “Ezzabella, querida, look at me.” Tipping her chin, he peered into her eyes.

  Her gaze locked onto his face. The distant expression faded as her lips curved into a smile. “Where did you come from?”

  She does not remember my entrance. He searched her eyes and face for evidence she was fooling with him. Truth and uncertainty peered back from behind her shiny lenses.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?” Her brow wrinkled and her eyes lit with indignation.

  Tino nodded toward the boulder shoved aside, revealing the pathway to the narcos’ cave. “I came through that passage.”

  “How?” She walked to the opening and peered inside.

  He grasped her shoulders, catching her attention. “I scared you when I stepped through. Do you not remember?”

  She shook her head in slow motion.

  Isabella stared into Tino’s concerned eyes. Why didn’t she remember him coming into the altar chamber? Especially when he’d moved a large rock to do so.

  “Do you remember Dr. Martin in here talking to you?”

  Tino’s inquisition spiraled worry in her stomach. She nodded. Virgil had asked…her something. “I came into this chamber to… I found evidence that linked the stone tablet to a vase and to... It was about a sacrifice.” The air grew cold. Fear quaked in her limbs and landed in her chest. “It’s what Virgil brought me here to decipher.” She pointed to the carving behind the altar. “This ceremony.”

  The sorrow connected to this ceremony was draining.

  “Take me out of here,” she pleaded. Something about the chamber spun images of a woman, a man, love, and sorrow in her head and infused her with confusion, fear, and heartache.

  “I would like nothing more but I can only escort you to the door. If Martin sees me still hanging around there is no telling what he will do.” He glanced at the dark cave. “I will have to take my chances with the narcos.”

  Her fear snapped from the room to Tino. “No, everyone is in the mess tent. You can sneak out this way.”

  “I do not want to cause you trouble.” He placed a palm on her cheek.

  “I’ll go first and make sure there isn’t anyone about.” She kissed his palm. “Please. I don’t want you running into the narcos.”

  Tino nodded, shoved the rock back in place, and took her by the elbow, escorting her to the dig entrance.

  Isabella stepped out and inhaled the hot moist air, welcoming the heat of the evening. She couldn’t fathom what she’d experienced in a scientific way, but she understood it through her study of Native American tales and her roots to them. The event she investigated had something to do with a woman, a woman who could be connected to her own past.

  She shook off the thoughts and scanned the camp. All was quiet.

  “Come.”

  Tino stepped out, grasped her hand, and drew her into the closest dense jungle. Once out of plain sight, he embraced her.

  “Good. You are no longer trembling.” He ran a hand down her back.

  She arched toward his touch like a cat asking for a favored spot to be scratched.

  “What about that chamber affects you?”

  “I think I’m connected to the woman who was sacrificed and made the moon god cry.”

  His hand stopped at the small of her back. The sensation of the pressure spun her mind to carnal thoughts.

  “You believe through your Hopi roots you are connected to the Mayans?” He removed his hand and grasped her face between his hands. “Mi pichón, could this be why you are so centered on deciphering everything you find?”

  She hadn’t thought of that before. Her ancestral roots could run as far back as the Mayans if the indigenous tribes of the North American southwest had co-mingled with the Aztecs and the Mayans at some point. Even if for nothing more than trade, a marriage could have been arranged. Yes, a North American warrior could have taken a liking to a Mayan maiden. Had she stumbled onto her roots?

  Isabella spun out of Tino’s embrace. “I can’t believe I could be digging up my family history.”

  Memories of the voice and sadness gripped her. She had to uncover what happened after the ceremony was performed.

  She clutched the front of Tino’s shirt. “I have to figure out what happened after the ceremony on the chamber wall.” She gazed into his eyes. Would he believe me? I have to take the chance.

  “A voice warned me to beware of Virgil. And the sadness I feel…This ceremony changed things for the Mayans. I can’t explain it, but it’s important I discover what before I tell Virgil or anyone what I’ve discovered.�
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  He gently extracted her fingers from his clothing. “I believe in your intellect and your emotions. I agree. If you feel that strongly do not tell Martin.”

  Holding her hands, Tino drew her body next to his. His mouth descended on hers, and she forgot everything, accepting all the wonders of his kiss.

  The roar of a howler monkey jerked her back to the present. “I forgot the book.” She stepped away from Tino.

  “What book?” He still held her hands, keeping her from exiting.

  “I had one of Virgil’s books in the altar chamber. I was using it to decipher the symbols I didn’t know. He can’t see it, in case he figures out the symbols before I do.” She took a step toward Tino but didn’t dare get close enough for him to kiss her again. She needed her wits about her to translate the story on the walls of the chamber and not become absorbed in the drawings. “I need to retrieve it before someone else picks it up.”

  “I will go with you.”

  “You can’t. Someone may have finished eating and see you.” Even though she protested, she didn’t want to return to the chamber alone. Not so soon after her last encounter.

  “We will pop out of the jungle close to the entrance.” He clasped her hand twining their fingers and led her back to the compound. Tino peered through the foliage before running to the cave with her in tow.

  They entered the dig and her feet felt like boulders as he continued toward the altar chamber. What was it about this room that spun her to another time and place? She sensed the fear and sorrow the instant she stepped through the door.

  “You are trembling again.” Tino glanced at the altar and squeezed her hand. “You go back out. I will get the book.”

  “No. I have to get over the response my body has to this room. It’s the key to discovering the past. I can feel it.” Isabella swallowed the lump in her throat and walked to the altar. She stared down at the book and found it opened to a different section. Someone had been here and looked at the book. Who? And why? Only she, Virgil…and Professor Walsh would be able to decipher the drawings. She folded the page, closed the book, and spun about to run out of the room. Tino’s wide chest stopped her retreat.