To the Limit

by Virginia Kelly

  The rain came down in sheets, slowing them to a near crawl. The wipers proved ineffective against the deluge, but Nick kept driving, his attention fixed on the miserable excuse of a road.

  Mary Beth glanced down at her watch. Nearly seven-thirty. "How much farther?"

  "We won't make the valley today, but we'll have a place to stay the night."

  The rain tapered, then quit, clouds racing east. Far ahead, lights twinkled through the mist.

  "What's that?" she asked.

  "San Vicente. The end of the road for us." Minutes later, he pulled the Jeep into the sheltering cover of a metal-roofed, dilapidated barn. They got out and walked into the town square. It was illuminated by towering light posts that reminded Mary Beth of a ballpark. Rolling mist replaced the rain, but from the looks of the carefully tended square, San Vicente had had its share. Puddles covered the grass in the center of the square, and mud lay thick on the unpaved road.

  "They have power way out here?" They were hours away from civilization.

  "These small towns go into cooperative efforts, like the Incas used to do. They get an engineer to come in and plan it all, lay the power posts, then connect to the next small town."

  "I can't believe there's another town out here. We're in the middle of nowhere."

  "You'd be surprised at how close we are to Trujillo."

  "Where we stopped for food?"

  Nick nodded.

  "That was hours ago."

  "A straight line from Trujillo to San Vicente would take less than half an hour."

  "But I thought Trujillo was on the edge of the mountain."

  "It is. San Vicente is on the next eastward mountain." Nick shifted the bag he carried to his right shoulder. "Let's go."

  Cool and humid, the night air revived them after the long trip. Mary Beth followed Nick as he walked toward a whitewashed two-story frame house at one corner of the square. He knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited, the streetlights casting them in tall shadows. She hoped it was only the light that made him look so tired.

  Finally, they heard footsteps and the door opened. A short, heavy woman stood framed in the doorway. She blinked at them, then laughed in pleasure.

  "Nicholas!" She opened her arms and he stepped forward. "Qué bien," she said, hugging him. "Ven, ven. Pasa."

  Nick pulled away, still holding the woman's hand. "Doña Inez, this is Mary Beth. Mary Beth, Doña Inez Alvarez, a good friend of the family."

  Inez stretched out her hand toward Mary Beth. "It is a pleasure, no?" She cast a quick curious glance at Nick as she said the words.

  "My pleasure, Doña Inez," Mary Beth replied.

  "Ah, Nicholas," she said, looking Mary Beth up and down. "Your mother, she is well?"

  "She is. Very well."

  "Muy bien." She nodded, then looked back at Mary Beth. "I have two rooms and food."

  "Gracias," Nick replied.

  Doña Inez led them through a darkened living room decorated with heavy Spanish furniture and into an immaculate kitchen.

  "Siéntate, Nicholas," she said, tying an apron around her ample middle. "Please, you too, Mary Beth."

  Nick sat down on a wooden chair beside a small table as their hostess kept up a constant chatter that told Mary Beth she was a close friend of Doña Elena's. Finally, she set plates before them and wiped her hands on her apron.

  Mary Beth hadn't known how hungry she was. She and Nick ate huge ham sandwiches and drank the sweet national cola, following it all with strong black coffee.

  Finally, Nick gave Doña Inez an edited version of the purpose of their trip. Without lying, he let her believe they were simply touring, giving Mary Beth a chance to experience the wild untamed areas of San Mateo, showing her those places he'd loved when he was a boy. Somehow he managed to tell her that if anyone looked for him she was to say he was not here. He was sneaking away from work, he explained, and wanted to have the time off without interruption. It amazed Mary Beth that anyone who knew Nick would think he would shirk any duty.

  And she wondered if Nick knew his old family friend had her own version of the trip, a more romantic one. The gray-haired woman kept giving her speculative looks.

  Then she led them up a finely carved wooden staircase to the second floor. "Nicholas, this is your room," she said, opening the first door. Nick stepped in, and Dona Inez continued down the hall. "Mary Beth, this is your room." She opened a second door and walked inside. She flicked on a lamp on a tiny ornate table in the entrance and continued inside. "You will share a bathroom, bien?"

  "Of course. Gracias."

  In the intimate light of the bedroom, Mary Beth saw a look of concern cross the woman's face. She seemed to struggle with something she wanted to say.

  "Is something wrong?"

  The woman stared at her for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. "It is not my concern, no? But Nicholas, he is a good boy. He has a kind heart. You will be good to him, no?"

  Mary Beth drifted awake. The quiet rain she'd heard all night had stopped. Outside, weak sunlight washed the morning in a golden glow. The house stood still and quiet.

  Stretching, she rolled over and plumped the pillow. She felt new. After a hot bath, which included a shampoo that washed out more of the fading hair dye, she'd fallen into a sound sleep in the clean comfortable bed.

  She'd pondered Inez Alvarez's last words to her as she'd fallen asleep in a borrowed floral knit gown. Why would this family friend ask her to be good to Nick? Mary Beth had no power over him. He held the power to devastate her if she let the feelings she had for him blind her to who and what he was. She'd seen him work his charm on Dona Inez. He didn't lie, but he avoided the truth.

  Then it hit her. Did Dona Inez believe her to be like Laura Morales? A lover who might come back to haunt Nick with claims of a pregnancy? How little people knew him. How did he and Laura put up with their families' and friends' erroneous beliefs about them?

  There was only one answer. Their love for Daniel Vargas and his son took precedence over all else.

  Mary Beth would do well to remember this fact.

  With deliberate effort, she pushed aside the troublesome thoughts. Stretching again, she got out of bed. Donning her jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt—her last clean one—she carefully opened the bathroom door. It was dark. Nick had closed the door to his bedroom. Did he think she would come in search of him? That she wanted him so badly she would embarrass herself again?

  Won't happen, she told herself, flipping on the light.

  The mirror revealed that she looked … well, bad. Really bad. The black dye streaked her hair. Maybe another half-dozen or so washings would get her back to normal. Right now she looked like a beautician's nightmare. Grimacing at her reflection, she turned on the cold water, grateful that at least water was plentiful here, that the sink didn't gurgle as had the one at the bungalow at the sawmill. Moments later, eyes closed, face dripping, she reached to her left, where she'd seen a towel rack with a fresh towel.

  "Looking for this?"

  Her eyes flew open. Nick, hair ruffled, stood next to her, holding the towel.

  "You scared me to death!"

  His only response was a half grin.

  Jerking the towel from him, she scrubbed her face dry.

  "Leave some skin, niña," he said as she finished.

  "Bathroom's yours," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

  "You wet your hair," he said. He was too close. Too close and barely dressed, barefoot, wearing only black jeans.

  "It'll dry," she replied, but before she could turn around, he reached out and pushed the wet strand of hair behind her ear. Why she stood still and let him, she would never know. Worse yet, she closed her eyes. She was a fool.

  A distant, mechanical bang resonated around them. Jerking her eyes open, she could see nothing. It was pitch dark.

  "Turn on the lights," she said, trying to catch her breath.

  "Power's out. Something just blew." Did his voice sound scr
atchy?

  Reaching toward her right, she sought the wall of the small bathroom, but instead, backed into the sink. Realizing her mistake, she turned and stepped in the direction of her room. Only to run into Nick.

  "Watch out," he said, grasping her arms.

  She could hear him breathing, the rhythm altered and quick. Then, with velvety blackness all around them, he ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders and stepped even closer.

  She knew what would happen next, knew but did nothing to move away. She was a total fool.

  He was a solid presence—a warm, hard, solid presence in an otherwise unearthly void. She didn't protest when she felt his hand on her cheek. Didn't question when the touch of his fingers on her lips blotted out all doubts. The heat of him, her passion for him, was something she couldn't deny. The fact that he had come to her obliterated all other thoughts. When his mouth touched hers, tentatively at first, she was lost.

  Then he was holding her to him, holding her when it wasn't necessary because she wasn't going anywhere. In the dark, the kiss was her only reality.

  "Nicholas!" Dona Inez called, pounding on Nick's bedroom door.

  Opening her eyes and pushing away from him, Mary Beth realized the lights had come back on. Nick stared down at her, seemingly as confused by what had happened between them as she was.

  "¿Sí?" he replied.

  "Desayuno," Doña Inez said. "Breakfast."

  Mary Beth took the cup of coffee Doña Inez handed her and sat down at the kitchen table. She'd practically run down the stairs.

  "I hope you slept well, Mary Beth. The power, it is erratic in the rainy season. I am sorry if it frightened you."

  "I slept very well, and no, the outage did not worry me."

  "Did Nick sleep well?"

  "I wouldn't know," Mary Beth replied, sure she was blushing. But she was saved from further embarrassment because her hostess had her back turned, putting something up in a cabinet. She seemed to presume she and Nick had spent a passionate night together. If she only knew.

  He still hadn't come downstairs. She'd heard the shower running when she'd left the room.

  Doña Inez turned and said, "Nick, he is—"

  He picked that moment to bound down the stairs. Had he been listening? She was sure everything could be heard in this small house.

  "Buenos días," he said, and bent to kiss Doña Inez.

  Moving easily this morning, he poured himself a cup of coffee as the older woman placed hot rolls and sliced ham and cheese on the table. "How is Arturo?" he asked.

  "Good. Very good." Doña Inez turned toward Mary Beth. "He likes your United States," she added.

  "Arturo is Doña Inez's son," Nick explained. "He's a pilot, training in the States."

  "I see," Mary Beth replied.

  "When he returns, he will live in the city." Doña Inez opened the curtains before joining them at the table. "San Vicente is a town of old people. All the young ones leave."

  Outside, the fog began drifting upward from the square. A middle-aged couple picked their way carefully around the mud and puddles. An old man sat on the single bench in the middle of the square, a dog at his feet.

  "When Nicholas and Daniel came here as boys, we had no electricity. They would play hard all day, then fall asleep as soon as the sun went down.

  "Your mother, Nicholas, she loved it here. Years before, when Doctor Jean lived here, she helped him in the clinic."

  Mary Beth remembered what Jean Rousseau had said about Nick's mother. Maybe there had been something between them, something brought to an end by her family and the general.

  Doña Inez continued. "Elena said that was what life was meant to be." She sighed and sat down heavily. "But that was before she lost Daniel, and I my Pepe…"

  Nick reached across the table and took Doña Inez's hand.

  "I am fine, hijo. I like to remember Pepe alive." She used the corner of her apron to wipe away a tear, then looked at Mary Beth. "Pepe is my oldest son. He died with Daniel."

  Mary Beth saw the grim line of Nick's mouth. This was another death he blamed on General Vargas.

  "Pepe, Arturo, Daniel and Nicholas. Ah, that was a wonderful time." Doña Inez looked beyond her small kitchen into the town square. The church bell began tolling. "Nicholas, do you know that Manuel is here? He is the priest. You must go see him before you leave."

  "How did he get an assignment to his hometown?"

  "He tells the bishop he knows the people, so he comes. He is a good priest."

  Relieved to no longer be the center of Doña Inez's scrutiny, Mary Beth gazed out the window, enjoying the last few sips of her coffee. Nick and Doña Inez continued their conversation, but she tuned out, fascinated by the way the mists rose and tumbled outside the window…

  "No, Nicholas," Inez was saying firmly.

  What had Mary Beth missed?

  "It is insanity. You were wild boys. I told your mother we should not let you do these crazy things, but she wanted—"

  "It will be fine."

  "Estás loco, hijo."

  Nick started to reply.

  "What will your mother say?" she asked, cutting him off.

  "I'm not a boy anymore. My mother knows this."

  "With her head, perhaps. Not with her heart."

  "This is something I must do."

  "For whom?" she challenged. "For you?" She gave him a look of disapproval. "You do nothing for yourself." She shook her head.

  Turning toward Mary Beth, she demanded, "If he does this for you, can you stop him?"

  Confused, Mary Beth looked from Doña Inez to Nick.

  "Why do you want to go on this foolhardy … aventura?"

  Mute, Mary Beth stared.

  "Bah, you are both fools. You will break your necks." She turned toward Nick again. "And I will have to tell your mother she has lost another son." Doña Inez pushed back her chair. "Eat your breakfast," she said, shaking her head. "We should have stopped you then. Now that you are a man, you do not listen."

  With an angry challenge in her eyes, she turned to Mary Beth. "You are a woman. You will see reason. Ask him what he plans. You will see. It is foolish."

  "Doña Inez—" Nick began.

  "I must go to my sister today. She is sick. I will not be back for a week or more. You know where I keep the key." She pinned her gaze on him. "You will go see Manuel. He must hear your confession before you do this." Then she stalked out of the kitchen. The door slammed behind her.

  Mary Beth spoke into the ringing silence. "What was all that about?"

  "She doesn't want me to go into the valley."

  "She's worried, like your mother, about the place?"

  Nick pushed back his chair. "It's a little different."

  Suspicious now, Mary Beth stood. "In what way?"

  "She knows how I intend to get there."

  Mary Beth carefully examined his choice of words. "What do you mean you? What about me?"

  "I don't think it's a good idea that you go with me."

  Mary Beth crossed her arms. "We've been through this before. You told me you wouldn't leave me."

  Outside, the bell had stopped tolling. People were coming out of the church. A young priest, still dressed in his robes, stood outside, bidding goodbye to the parishioners.

  "Why does she think you should go to confession?"

  His lips turned up, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

  Mary Beth didn't like it. "What's going on?"

  "Come on," he said and led her out into the square. They walked around the church and, with a quick wave at the priest who waved back, Nick continued until the only thing they could see was the thick fog drifting up, at times revealing a magnificent panoramic view of the emerald-green ceja de montaña at the edge of town.

  Then he took her hand and led her toward a crude wooden railing two feet high, in front of wild vegetation. Beyond lay an abyss misted in tropical wetness. Small breaks in the fog bank revealed a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. He brought he
r to stand before the railing and pointed down.

  "This is the other way into the Rio Hermoso Valley."

  Chapter 13

  « ^ »

  "You must be kidding." Mary Beth squinted into the valley, against the still rising sun. She had never seen anything like it. During the moments when the mists parted, she could see the overgrown precipice, the boulders, the trees, the vines. The mud slides. "We can't go down here. We'll break our necks!"

  "I won't. But you will," Nick said with a certainty that made Mary Beth clench her fists.

  "What makes you the expert?"

  "Daniel, the Alvarez brothers and I used to go down to the valley this way."

  "When you had less brains than a peanut." The tactless words poured out, prompted by fear.

  "Thank you, Miss Ambassador's daughter." Nick smiled as if he'd just learned some secret of hers.

  Mary Beth watched the mists float away, revealing more of the treacherous drop. "How far down is it?"

  "Three thousand feet."

  "What?" She choked on the word.

  "Give or take a few hundred." He sounded so reasonable. "It'll take at least a half a day to get there."

  "What about a road?"

  "The only one into the valley will be watched by Vargas and his Rangers. They control this whole area. There's no choice."

  "It's suicide." They'd die. Both of them. In an endless fall. She felt her knees tremble. "Is there no other way?"

  "Not if the goal is to get there." He took her frozen hand in his warm one. "You're not going. You'll be safe here."

  How she wanted to stay! But there was no choice. "I have to go."

  Nick cursed. She hadn't heard some of the words he used, since some were in Spanish. But the majority were in English.

  "Mark is down there." She looked into his eyes, the color muted by the gray tropical mists. "It doesn't make any difference what's happening with him. He won't trust you if I'm not along."

  Nick shook his head and cursed again.

  She faced him more fully, intent on making him see she was serious. "I have to go." As much as the thought of descending into the cloud-shrouded nothingness of the tumbling cliff frightened her. Because no matter how badly she wanted to believe Nick would help her find Mark, that kernel of doubt lingered.