by Carol Grace
Josh pulled up in front of her house with the rain falling. He couldn’t believe she was there on the porch waiting for him. It was amazing that he’d convinced her to come along on this trip. If only she were going because of him. But he couldn’t let himself believe that. Instead, she was going because she wanted to see the lake and because she wanted to help the fishermen get their loan.
Even so he was afraid she’d change her mind, so he’d avoided her this past week so she wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell him she had to plant potatoes or pick berries or anything else rather than go with him. But with this rain he didn’t see how anyone could do much planting of anything.
Before he could get out of his car she dashed through the light rain in her pink shirt that matched her cheeks and her khaki pants and jacket. Her hair, brushed back behind her ears, made her look about eighteen. When his eyes reached her sandaled feet, he frowned.
“I hope you brought some warm shoes. It’s cold up there.” He didn’t tell her that if she hadn’t he’d take her bare feet in his hands and warm than himself. He tore his eyes from her pink toes and started the car.
She adjusted her seat belt. “I know all about the lake,” she told him, her smile sending excitement simmering through his body. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed seeing her this past week, or how much he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, right here in front of her house before they’d gone even one mile. But he started driving and she started talking about the Indians and their sun god. There was something about her voice that made everything she said sound fascinating.
She turned to face him, her eyes dark pools of mystery. “No one knows where the Incas came from,’’ she said. “Legend has it they first appeared on the island in the middle of the lake sent there by the sun god to start a new civilization.” She gazed off dreamily at the white stone houses that lined the streets of Castillo. “I want to see the sun rise from the Island of the Sun the way they did, from the doorway of the temple.”
Josh wanted to see the sun rise from the island, too, and he wanted to see it set with her. He didn’t know what made him think of that. He’d convinced himself and her, too, that this was just a business trip. Now here he was wondering how she’d look with the early-morning sun on her face. It must be the legend of the Incas, one man and one woman, set down in the middle of a lake to begin civilization, that had set him off.
Lost in his thoughts, he drove past the train station, made a U-turn and doubled back.
“You know they say they submerged their treasure in the middle of the lake to hide it from the Spaniards.” Catherine’s tone was reflective, almost dreamy.
He parked the car next to the station and lifted their over night bags from the back seat. He didn’t speak until they were settled comfortably in the buffet car of the narrow-gauge train.
“You know,” he said, looking out the window, “I’ve heard enough sunken treasure stories to last a lifetime. Usually there’s just enough truth in them to send men off with their last dollar and a gleam in their eye.’’
She leaned forward in her seat. “Like your father?”
“Yes.” The train started with a jolt, and he braced himself against the padded seat. “The last time I saw him he was going to look for sunken treasure off the coast of Mexico. He’d invested his last dollar in a recovery operation. All he had left except for the shares to the mine. And he would have sold those if he could have found someone to buy them. My mother kissed him goodbye as she always did and wished him good luck. But his luck had run out. His plane went down.” His words were flat and emotionless, but underneath there was a current of regret and sadness.
Catherine laced her fingers together. “At least he left you something. A legacy. Something of his own. Something he valued.”
“The shares to the silver mine? He left them to me because he couldn’t sell them. They were worthless.”
“Maybe, but my parents left me nothing. No house, no land... nothing.”
“Nothing? What about the memories? The security of knowing you’d never go hungry, two parents there when you needed them, the barn with the hay and the kittens. All that.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, all that. Gone. Do you want to see where they live now?” She fished in her purse for her wallet and pulled out a snapshot of a man and a woman standing on a patio, a small postage-stamp lawn in the background.
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, holding the picture by the edges.
“It’s a condominium,” she explained patiently.
“You make it sound like a slum,” he noted.
“You didn’t see the farm,” she said, her dark eyes reproachful.
He looked at the picture again. He could see where Catherine had gotten her dark, expressive eyes and her smile. “They look happy,” he remarked.
“I know what you’re thinking. If they’re happy, why can’t I be happy for them? I don’t know. I feel like an ungrateful child.” She sighed and put the picture back in her wallet.
He studied her face. “Maybe when you get back you’ll feel differently about them.”
She looked up sharply. “I’m not going back.”
“That’s right, too many memories,” he said soothingly.
“Or not enough,” she said, gazing intently out the window at the green-terraced hills and jagged white-capped mountains in the background.
The steward rang a little bell and took orders for lunch. After they ate, they talked about the descendants of the Incas they were going to visit. No further mention was made of buried treasure or lost farmland.
In the last hour they fell into a comfortable silence, watching rain clouds obscure the view, lulled into serenity by the gentle motion of the train. Catherine leaned back on the plush upholstery and closed her eyes. She wondered if there was anyone she’d rather be with than Josh on a train trip. Even though he couldn’t possibly understand how she felt about the farm, there was a warmth in his gaze and sympathy she could wrap around her like a blanket. He cared about her, she realized suddenly. He really cared.
She stole a glance at him from under her lashes. He was looking at her with such longing that it made her heart contract. Why had he really brought her along on this trip? Did he only need a translator? And why had she come? Was it truly to see the Island of the Sun? Or was it that she’d go anywhere he went, just to be with him.
The train chugged to a stop before she could answer her own question. A railway spur ran directly to the lakefront pier where they got out to board the wind-powered ferry across the lake. Gulls swooped and cried in the late-afternoon sky. They looked out across the choppy sea.
“This is a long way to go to make a small loan, isn’t it?” she asked.
He leaned against the railing of the boat. “I could have asked them to come to town to fill out the applications, but I wanted to see how they work and live and hear them tell me how they’d use the money.”
She turned to look at him. “The way you did with us.”
The wind blew his dark hair across his forehead. “I learned a lot by coming to the farm.” He’d learned what caused the sadness in the depths of her eyes, and why she was afraid to fail, afraid even to return to the land where she’d failed.
She turned her collar up against the wind. The other passengers went inside the small cabin, and they were alone on the deck. “You never told me what made you change your mind.”
Flecks of light glinted in his dark blue eyes, and he braced himself against the rise and fall of the boat. He knew what he couldn’t say. He couldn’t mention the hammock, or the night under the stars with her. “Maybe it was the way you talked to the potatoes,” he said finally. “That’s when I knew you were different from everybody else.”
One corner of her mouth curved upward. “I hope you haven’t told anyone about that. It’s my secret method.”
He grinned. A vicious wave slapped the side of the ferry, and he grabbed her arms to catch her as she pitched forward
. His arms tightened around her. “Your secret is safe with me,” he murmured in her ear. “And so are you.” He pulled her back against the hull and crushed her to him. Their lips met and he kissed her with breathtaking thoroughness. She felt her knees weaken as the boat whistle announced their arrival.
Josh put his hands over her ears to protect than from the sharp whistle. Then he gently kissed Catherine’s eyelids and the spot where her pulse fluttered at her temples. People were gathering their belongings and coming out on deck, but he ignored them. Instead he cupped her chin in his hands and lost himself in the depths of her dark eyes.
Her arms wound around him, and she reached up to thread her fingers in his short-cropped hair. He wished he knew what she was thinking. He’d given her two good reasons to come on this trip, translating for him and helping the villagers, but the look in her eyes made him hope there was another, more personal reason she’d come.
Over her head he saw that the boat had entered the lagoon. He wished they could sail around the lake all day with the wind in their hair and his lips on hers. Beneath the surface of her warm skin he felt the warmth of her heart, her generosity and her adventurous spirit. It was that he wanted to capture, to make part of himself. But somewhere in the distance was the last call, and she broke away, grabbed her bag and led him to the gangway.
Catherine smoothed her jacket and looked around at the reed boats that lined the shore without seeing them. She wondered if she looked as shaky as she felt. They hadn’t even set foot on the island and already she was wondering how she would keep her feelings in check with Josh around. First she’d been oblivious to the arrival of the boat; now she didn’t know which way to turn. Everyone on shore was yelling and waving to someone debarking.
Finally a short dark-haired man with high cheekbones approached than and introduced himself as Duran’s cousin Miguel. Proudly he led them to the center of the island where twenty or so huts made of dried reeds clustered around a one-room schoolhouse of galvanized iron sheets. Men, women and barefoot children gathered to meet them, smiling shyly.
Miguel apologized for the scarcity of accommodations and asked if they would mind sleeping in the schoolhouse. Catherine shot Josh a nervous glance and said they’d be delighted.
After setting their bags inside the room filled with wooden benches, Miguel left them with instructions to come to his house for dinner. One light bulb swung from the ceiling, illuminating walls covered with students’ pictures, and in the corner two straw mattresses were covered with clean sheets and blankets. The mattresses were placed a few feet apart, as if their hosts weren’t exactly sure what their relationship was. They weren’t the only ones, Catherine thought, directing her gaze to the small sink in the corner and the door that led to the bathroom.
She was trying so hard to keep her distance from Josh. She’d been doing so well until she stumbled against him on the deck. He said she was safe with him. But she knew that wasn’t true. Nobody could keep someone else safe. Your only protection was to rely on yourself, then if you failed you could only blame yourself.
Josh walked around the room restlessly, picking up books and putting them down, then peering out the window into the rapidly falling night. Catherine leaned against the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, trying not to look at the beds in the corner, trying not to think about sleeping next to Josh on a straw mattress.
Finally she ran out of places to look and her gaze caught Josh’s and held. She thought of the intensity of his kisses on the boat deck, and tension filled the air in the schoolhouse. Maybe he was thinking about them, too. How on earth were they going to hang on to the last shred of their self-control while sleeping next to each other?
As if he’d read her thoughts, he leaned against the blackboard and cleared his throat. “What do you think of the sleeping arrangements? I hope you’re not allergic to straw.”
“No,” she said. “What about you?”
He shook his head.
“On the other hand,” she said, “it’s a little stuffy in here. I’ll move my mattress over to the window.”
“Good idea.” Before she could protest he was shoving both mattresses across the floor and wedging them together without a space between than.
Her brain spun with images of the length of her body pressed against his, his breath on her cheek, falling asleep in the warmth of his arms. “This is a business trip, isn’t it?” she asked slowly, her eyes troubled.
“Of course,” he said, as if he didn’t know she was referring to the sleeping arrangements and the growing sexual tension between them. “I just haven’t brought up the subject of the loan yet. I’m waiting for them to say something. But you know more about village etiquette. That’s why you’re so useful. That’s why I brought you.”
His blue eyes were clear and guileless. Useful, he said, like a calculator or an automatic teller machine. She felt foolish. He only put his mattress next to hers to enjoy the fresh air coming in through the window.
“What do you think?” he continued, lowering himself to the edge of the straw mattress. “Am I supposed to bring up the loan or are they?”
“Well, uh...I guess it’s better to just wait,” she concluded.
He rubbed his hands together briskly and stood. “That’s settled. Let’s go to dinner. They’re expecting us.”
Josh watched Catherine bend over the child-size sink to wash her hands. Her dark hair tumbled forward across her cheek. Despite his easy assurance he was having a hard time concentrating on the purpose of this trip. He was stuck on this island, trying to pretend every fiber of his being wasn’t crying out for her.
What had possessed him to bring her here with him, then kiss her on the boat and now move his mattress next to hers?
He might be able to sleep in the same room as her, but how could he sleep next to her where he could see the moonlight shining on her hair, smell the scent of the soap on her skin, and not gather her into his arms? He had told himself not to move both mattresses, but somehow the message had gotten lost between his brain and his hands.
This whole trip was turning into a shambles because he couldn’t stop thinking about Catherine. About how to get closer to her, physically and emotionally. No matter how close he got, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to explore her body, every inch of it, and he wanted to know what was in her mind, every corner of it.
When he looked up, she was standing at the door, watching him and waiting. He gave her a reassuring smile and patted her on the back casually as she walked ahead of him, keeping his hand pressed to the small of her back as they crossed the clearing.
She paused to admire the llama tethered next to Miguel’s house. She stroked its soft fur. “I wish I had one of these. They carry huge loads and have sweet dispositions.”
Josh watched her lay her cheek against the soft fur of the animal’s neck. “I’ll get you one.”
She shook her head. “Where would I keep it?”
His hand met hers on the llama’s back. Her fingers were warm and her touch sent vibrations up his arm. “In the field behind your house.”
“I mean, when I leave. What would we do—ride off into the sunset together, my llama and I?”
His eyes traced the outline of her lips, the shape of her eyebrows. “It would be quite a sight,” he admitted. “But maybe you’d better wait until you get a farm of your own.”
She stiffened and pulled her hand away. “I’m not going to get a farm of my own. If I don’t own anything, I won’t have anything to lose.”
He opened his mouth to protest this philosophy, but just then the door of the hut swung open and Miguel beckoned to them. He seated them around a small table where they ate fresh fish with wheat cakes. After dinner Miguel’s wife got out her knitting. Catherine watched while Miguel’s young son wove a toy boat out of reeds.
A knock on the door signaled the arrival of the neighbors. They filed in, taking places on the floor and finally occupying every inch of space on the straw mats that covered the d
irt.
Seated on the floor with the others and pressed tightly against Josh, she was conscious of the muscles in his arms, the fresh smell of the lake that clung to his clothes. While she studied the faces around the fire, wind-burned, weathered and lined with creases, she translated what the villagers said. As it turned out, they went straight to the subject of the loan.
“They say the reed boats are like wild horses. Hard to control. If they have motorboats, they can go smoother and farther and catch more fish.”
“Who will they sell the extra fish to?” Josh asked.
“A big company is opening a cannery on the lake, and they’ll buy all the fish they can catch. Trout were released in the lake some years ago, and they’ve grown beyond all expectations. They say they’re huge.” The men nodded and held out their arms to show how big they were.
“Tomorrow,” they said, “you will see.” Then they trooped out of the hut with promises to meet at dawn the next day to take Josh and Catherine out on the lake. Thanking Miguel and his wife for the dinner, Catherine and Josh strolled to the shore to look at the boats before retiring to the schoolhouse.
The night air was cool and soft on Catherine’s skin. After sitting cross-legged in the small hut, her muscles ached to stretch out. At the edge of the lake she paused. A full moon appeared from behind the clouds and flooded the lake with its brilliance. She gasped. It looked like a pool of silver. From behind her she heard Josh’s sharp intake of breath.
“Silver,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “No wonder it drives men crazy.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.
She leaned against him, savoring the warmth of his body, feeling his heart pound. Was he thinking of the mine? Should she tell him Pedro had agreed to take him there? She didn’t want to spoil this moment if he said no. This magic moment when the lake turned to liquid silver and her body felt like liquid fire.
She turned and he saw her face, pale as alabaster in the moonlight, tilted up to his. He struggled with the passion that raced through his body. He wanted to make love to her under the silver moon. If he kissed her now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Her eyes told him she wanted it too, but how would she feel in the morning in the cold light of day when he went back to being a banker in line for a promotion and she was a farmer without a farm?
