Pictures of You

by Barbara Delinsky

  Her trembling limbs clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, locking herself into his embrace. It was a short distance for him to reach to her knees and sweep her, weightless, into his arms, without the slightest disruption of their passion-devouring kiss.

  Eva moaned softly as he lay her down on a grassy spot against the rocky wall nearby. “Your muscles?” he asked, fearing that he had hurt her.

  “No, yours,” she murmured breathlessly. “What is it you do to me?” she pleaded, burying her hands in his thick hair and drawing his face down to hers in renewed embrace. His body moved to partially cover hers, his hands beginning a lust-arousing exploration of her flesh. Her T-shirt was no barrier as his fingers delved beneath to touch the bare skin of her midriff, sending flames of excitement through her as a prelude to the greater ardor as they moved up to circle the swell of her breast.

  Eva had never known the height of passion to which his spell now drew her, rising higher and higher with each caress, each soul-reaching kiss, Her nostrils gloried in his smell, her hands in the feel of his strong flesh beneath her searching palms. She savored the taste of his lips, smoldering against hers, his tongue seeking out hers. Desire consumed her as her fingers, in trembling haste, unbuttoned his shirt to romp amid the luxuriant blanket on his chest.

  His lips left hers to nibble at her ear lobe, her chin, then sear a path down her neck and shoulders to the graceful cleavage between her breasts. Any second thoughts she might have had vanished as he gently eased the scooped neck of her T-shirt aside, followed by the lacy cup of her bra, to expose her cream-colored breast. Explosive currents raced through her as his tongue explored their rosy peaks, firming instantly under his touch. Mercifully, at the moment when she would have cried out in delight, his lips recaptured hers, becoming more demanding as was his own need.

  “Oh, my God, I want you so much.” The soft whisper had escaped Eva’s lips, even as Roberto kissed them into silence.

  “Eva? … Eva?” Her name filtered through the aura of passion. Roberto’s body stiffened as she realized that the lips so close to hers had made no sound. Paul! Looking for her! She tensed in turn, totally immobilized by the shock of the interruption.

  Roberto held her to him, tighter if anything, as he called back to Paul in a calm, even voice, “She’s with me, Paulo. We’ll join you in a couple of minutes.” The familiar form of his name took any edge off the reply. They remained as they were, bodies intertwined, the only sound the frantic beating of two hearts amid the crunch of receding footsteps over the dry ground.

  Alone once again, Roberto sat up, gently drawing Eva with him before releasing her to move back several feet. The moment was gone; each knew it. Eva felt screams of frustration gathering at the back of her throat. Determined to regain her lost control, she stood up, took several deep breaths, and began to straighten the clothing which had come askew. Roberto did the same, though she saw no sign of any torment he might be suffering as a result of their checked passion.

  “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry,” Eva began tremulously, eyes downcast.

  When he made no response she looked up to meet his gaze. No thoughts escaped the murky depths of his black eyes, but the moonlight betrayed a look of measured anger around his mouth. She flinched even before he spoke.

  “Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he hissed through thin-drawn lips as he pivoted and headed back toward the camp. In spite of her own remonstration, Eva was stunned and hurt by his rejection. It took her several minutes more to compose herself enough to follow him.

  Moments later, her bedroll wrapped around her more for psychological protection than climatic, she was engulfed by a wave of misery, an ache of torment she’d never known before. Ironic, she thought bitterly, how she could be so high and then so low within such a short time. What a fool she had made of herself. How could she have betrayed herself so blatantly? This man would wreak havoc within her. He couldn’t offer her the stability she wanted, the protection she needed, the love she craved. Then it hit her like a bolt: Love, the word she had avoided in all her thoughts of him. But now she knew; there was no further question in her mind. For every fiber in her body and very soul that warned her against Roberto there was a matching fiber that cried out her love for him. She loved him. As she had never loved before. Desirous only of being with him, sensing him, wanting him, and giving her very essence in return. It was a beautiful thing, she mourned, which was hopelessly doomed. She had to protect herself now, or she would return to New York in worse shape than she had left it. She had thought Stu was right for her, and then suffered for her mistake. Now she knew Roberto was wrong for her; no amount of one-sided love could change that.

  Wrapped in a cocoon of anguish, pure exhaustion—psychological and physical—finally claimed her. She fell into a state of willed unawareness, a deep stupor, a necessary escape into the depths of unconsciousness.

  No sound disturbed her shallow peace. She remained immune to everything through the long night except her own need for survival. She was unaware of the low voices that trailed off only after several hours of camaraderie; she was unaware of others asleep in the clearing; she was unaware of the first light of dawn as it edged over the hilltops and glistened through the dew-gilded trees. It was only when a firm hand shook her shoulder—had she imagined a gentle touch to her cheek not a moment before?—that she reluctantly emerged from her protective shell to gather her things together and prepare to break camp.

  Roberto had evidently excused her from breakfast chores, she surmised, as Paul approached her with a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. He studied her intently as he stood before her briefly. Eva avoided his eyes as she thanked him for the food and sat down to sip the coffee, wondering how much he suspected about her absence the night before. Two brothers, so alike yet so different. Paul could read her mind just as Roberto could, but while Paul used what he gleaned to understand and comfort her, Roberto used it to torment her.

  “You okay?” he asked softly; then, at her affirmative nod, he turned back to the fire. She watched him go, then felt her gaze slip to Roberto who, having already finished his breakfast, was helping Carlos reload the donkeys’ backs. He was so strong, so sure of himself, she had to admit; if only she could borrow some of that same strength and confidence, she would make it through this trip regardless of those deeper, more disturbing emotions.

  The coffee had begun to really wake her up, and she was surprised at how well she felt. The evening’s rest, as all-encompassing as it had been, had performed wonders on her body. Perhaps the open air—fresh and bracing—had aided the healing process. Whatever, concluded Eva with relief, she felt ready and able to face another day’s hike, particularly knowing that she might see the Espinhaco Topaz before the day was out.

  While the last of the cleaning up and packing was done, Eva took the opportunity to take more pictures. Her camera had been accepted as a bona fide member of the expedition by now, so she was able to photograph without drawing anyone’s attention. As she snapped, she was also able to monitor the progress of the group through her lens so that she would in no way detain them when they were ready to move out. Thoroughly engrossed as she focused on Carlos untying the donkeys and leading them out of the clearing toward the path, she flinched at a curt order issued close to her ear.

  “I can see where you get your practice. Now, if you can force yourself to stop caressing that fool black box, we can get going!”

  Jolted by his sudden interruption of her concentration and embarrassed by the private meaning of his words, she reddened, grabbed her bags together indignantly, and strode away from Roberto with as much conviction as she could pretend to, knowing that he would be watching and enjoying her stormy exit.

  The march resumed without further fuss, the pace a hearty one bolstered by the refreshing morning air. Eva had thrown her sweater over her shoulders against the early-morning chill, but the sun soon rose high enough to take its place on her bare arms. She enjo
yed the hike today, her body having grown accustomed to both the packs and the steady pace, as she knew it would. The blisters on her heels were covered by the Band-Aids Roberto had given her, so she felt a minimum of discomfort from that quarter.

  In fact, the only quarter from which she did feel discomfort was the emotional one. Having finally admitted to herself that she was in love with Roberto, she suffered the dull ache of desire at the thought of him. While her head told her one thing, her heart contradicted it. She was caught in the middle of an unabating battle between the forces of reason, which strove to eliminate Roberto from her mind, and the forces of passion, which could not function without his constant presence.

  This inner war waged on as the small caravan covered ground, the undulating path challenging by its very vacillation. The terrain had grown more rugged by midmorning as the path showed signs of natural erosion. Eva kept up with the others easily, scrambling up the rocky rises, tumbling down the jagged declines, taking the occasional detour through the underbrush to skirt a blocked stretch of path.

  Roberto, a distance from her at the head of the expedition, snapped out directives with an impatience that surprised her. She would have thought him to be in his glory with the arrival at the mine imminent. Something troubled him, making him uncharacteristically moody as they wound their way on. Eva assumed that the deterioration of the path worried him, and she wondered somewhat apprehensively what they would find at the end of their trek.

  CHAPTER 6

  The heat of the sun had begun to intensify once again, as the group paused to rest shortly after noon. The going had been more difficult than they had expected, so rather than plod through without stop to the mine, Roberto had readjusted their estimated arrival to the late afternoon. This, in addition to the taxing nature of the day’s climb, warranted the midday rest.

  Apprehension hung heavily among them as they rested and ate the small lunch that Jacques and Carlos had passed out. Roberto seated himself at a distance from Eva, she noted with a mixed sense of relief, and studied the map of the mine as he ate. She was sure that he already knew it by heart but was probably anticipating where the poorer conditions would be found, if his occasional brooding look was any indication of his thoughts.

  Lunch behind them, they moved on. It was even warmer than it had been yesterday, and Eva sweated along with the rest of them. She was grateful for the cool tank top she had put on in the privacy of her bedroll that morning, having all too clearly remembered the previous day’s heat. She was also grateful for her natural curls, which in earlier years she had gone to such pains to straighten, but which now formed vibrant tendrils around her face, becoming her increasingly as the heat took its toll on all else. As they walked on, she cooled herself by securing the bulk of the hair in a casual topknot, leaving only loose wisps to mingle with the drops of perspiration at the sides of her face and on her neck. She was rather pleased with herself for managing both of her packs so well, although she did permit Tom to spell her occasionally with one of them.

  As the afternoon wore on, the group moved more slowly, hampered both by the unpredictable terrain and by growing fatigue. By the time the sun had settled in its late-afternoon perch, casting long shadows through the tree branches, they heard a new sound piercing the silence of the mountainside. Water, somewhere just ahead—and they knew that they had reached their destination. Sure enough, several twists and turns around the hillside brought them to a waterfall, tumbling gently but gleefully across their path. No one complained as they passed beneath its cooling spray to negotiate one last turn. Only then did they emerge into a large clearing, dominated by the deserted mine entrance they had been seeking.

  Shouts rang out from the front runners and Eva bounded forward to join in the spontaneous celebration, for not only had they reached the mine but its entrance stood clear and open, a welcome invitation for their exploration.

  Roberto was the only one among them to remain detached from the broad grins and backslapping that took place. Even the ominous Pierre begrudgingly smiled his pleasure at their arrival at the mine, drawing Eva within the range of his enjoyment for the first time. Roberto, however, stood back, his hands on his hips and legs apart, studying the hillside out of which the mine had been carved. The soil was dry and of the red hue Eva had become so accustomed to, having to continually dust it off her sneakers, pants, and bags. As he regarded it now, his eye moved from the gaping entrance to the mound of earth that served as its roof, to the adjacent incline rising above it. He remained deeply engrossed in his examination as he moved from one side to another, scrutinizing every angle above, to the side of, and behind the mine entrance.

  Eva took the opportunity of the otherwise light moment to use her camera. The sense of achievement, as premature as it really was, was so visible on the faces of these men she was coming to know so well that she couldn’t resist photographing them. Changing the lens to a telephoto, she stood back and framed Tom’s tongue-in-cheek exploration of the sides of the mine door, Jacques’s own attempts at photographing the scene with his miniature camera, Pierre’s victory pipe, its cherry-rich aroma wafting deliciously through the otherwise pure air, Paul’s warm expression as he approached Roberto.

  On this last frame she lingered long after she had made the exposure to study the two brothers. Although she was out of earshot, Paul’s gestures seemed aimed at easing Roberto’s tension, albeit without success. Eventually the two did find something to share a smile about; Eva suspected that it had little to do with the mine.

  Camp was quickly made, the donkeys quartered by a clump of dwarf trees, the packs unloaded, and all muscles flexed into a sort of forced relaxation. Excitement ran high, though no one dared pose the one question everyone wanted to know the answer to. Finally, Jacques spoke up, the suspense too much.

  “When do we go in, Roberto?” he asked, his lilting accent disguising any impatience he might have felt.

  Roberto did not respond immediately, a look of mild concern on his face as he continued to analyze the terrain surrounding the mine. When he eventually spoke it was in a slow and hesitant voice, as though he was not quite sure of the answer himself.

  “I think we’ll try a preliminary exploration now, while there’s still a little light. That hillside worries me. Do you see those indentations on the area behind the mine entrance?” he asked, the question purely rhetorical as he continued immediately. “It looks like the ground has sagged in some spots. There is also some erosion of the hill up here.” He pointed to the wall of the mountain to the left that overlooked the mine’s entrance. “I think we may have some work inside. Let’s take a look.”

  He sorted through the supplies which were now on the ground and unrolled one of the canvas packages to remove some long search-type flashlights. Taking one himself, he tossed others to Paul and Pierre, who were standing closest to him. He motioned to Tom to grab the coils of heavy rope that lay on the ground near the flashlights, and then headed for the mine. Carlos was content to occupy himself with the remaining unpacking and perhaps a little nap, but the others moved forward to follow Roberto. Eva was as eager as the rest to see what they faced, but as they neared the entrance Roberto turned brusquely.

  “You wait here, Eva, until we know something more. It could be difficult in the darkness inside.”

  “Oh, no!” she exclaimed, oblivious to the others looking on as she argued with Roberto. “I’ve got to go in. I’d really like to photograph what’s there as you find it!” She was already fumbling in her camera bag to get the flash which she knew she would need in the black corridors of the mine.

  “I don’t want you coming in with us now, Eva,” he repeated in a tautly held voice, his eyes boring into hers.

  “Come on … I’ve come all this way and kept up with the rest of you. I’ve earned my right to go in now!” It was her best argument, but she knew from his expression that it was not good enough for him.

  “You stay!” he growled, the fierceness of his tone raising several he
ads, then his voice softened to add, “If it’s safe, you can go in to photograph later,” and with that, he turned on his heel and led the men through the entrance, precluding any further discussion. Only Paul turned to look back at Eva, with a shrug of his shoulder and a sympathetic look, then she was left to smolder with no one for company but Carlos and his donkeys.

  Like a dog, she fumed silently—he had ordered her to “stay” just like a dog. But what really upset her was not his order but the fact that she had obeyed him. It wouldn’t have bothered her if she felt that he was really concerned with her safety; if that had been the case, she would have been flattered. But she was convinced that his refusal was one more attempt to humiliate her. He hadn’t wanted her along on this trip to begin with, and now that she was he would make her regret it. How could she have fallen in love with a man who could be so cruel? The question tormented her and she had no solution for it.

  Looking for a diversion to relieve her disappointment at not being allowed inside the mine, Eva remembered the waterfall around the turn, and gathering a few things together, she headed for it. The water, as it cascaded from the cliffs higher up, was cool and clear, a refreshing shower which Eva relished, having begun to feel grimy under the fine film of sweat and red dust that coated her skin. She splashed the water on herself, using the small bar of soap she had brought in her bag to cleanse her arms and face. The cool of the waterfall invigorated her, and in her condition of frustration, the temptation was too great. Within minutes she had stripped off her T-shirt and bra, wishing, though not quite daring, to go further, even knowing that the men were otherwise occupied. Bending at the waist, she soaped her hair under the renewing flow, allowing wayward sprinkles of the rinse to liberally moisten her body. Straightening again, she let water drip to the towel wrapped at her waistband. Falling from her saturated ringlets, it rippled down her neck and shoulders to trickle onto her breasts and back. As she reluctantly toweled herself dry, her terry-draped hand circled the fullness of her breast, bringing a sharp reminder of Roberto’s caress which had electrified her so. Even as she recalled it, the rosy peaks grew to pebble-hardness, until she quickly drew on her clothes and broke the spell.