Wes looked up with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He had lost weight even over the short period of time he had been under the hot sun of Brazil. Now, however, he seemed to hold fast to Ian’s words and nodded. “All right. We’ll do that, then. She’s got to make it, Ian—she’s just got to!”
****
The fever at times seemed to be hotter than Emily could bear, while at other times the cold came with a shaking, teethchattering force. The voices would fade in and out, and sometimes she felt a touch of a hand. But during those times she could not distinguish who was wiping her face with a cool cloth, although she knew there were two individuals close by.
Sometimes the darkness would surround her, holding her in an ebony canopy, and at other times the light would filter through. And when she would open her eyes, she would see faces that seemed to swim and waver as she tried to focus. Sometimes the dreams would come, and she would know that they were dreams, and yet they were so very real. Once she saw herself and Jared and Wes as clearly as if it were a photograph. They were swimming in the pond, and they were very young. She could hear, she thought, the sounds of the squealing and the screaming and the laughter. She could almost feel the refreshing waters as the vision of fond childhood memories filled her mind.
Consciousness came back with a rush as she seemed to emerge from a dark tunnel. Her eyes opened, and for a moment she could not understand what she saw, and then she saw a face.
“Wes—?” Her lips were dry, so dry she could scarcely speak. She licked them in an effort to speak more clearly. “Wes, is that you?”
“No. It’s Ian. Wes is asleep. How do you feel?”
Emily knew that she was wringing wet, but the dullness of mind and the abyss that had tried to hold her captive were now gone. “I’m thirsty,” she whispered.
“I’ll get you some water.”
Emily lay there, her bones aching. She saw the outline of the jungle through the door of her tent and attempted to sit up.
“Here, let me help you,” Ian said.
A strong arm came around her shoulders, and she was lifted as if she were a child. Then she felt the touch of the tin cup against her lips. She grasped at the hand that held it, choking the water down.
“Take it easy, now. Very small sips. You can have all you want, but slowly.”
“That’s so good,” Emily said, licking her dry lips.
“I know,” Ian said.
His voice was low, but she focused on his face. He had not shaved, and the bristles of his reddish whiskers covered his face.
“Here. Have a little more. Just a sip.”
Emily forced herself to sip the tepid water slowly. It was the best drink she had ever had in her life. She felt the liquid soaking down her parched throat and into her dehydrated body. He did not move his arms, so as she sat there in his embrace, the weakness was more frightening than anything she had ever known. For a long time he gave her small sips of water, and finally she said, “How long have I been sick?”
“This is the third day, but your fever’s broken now. You’ll be all right.”
“Can I get up?”
“Not for a while. I want you to drink water in small sips, and I’m going to make a broth. You’ve eaten practically nothing. Can I trust you to take the water slowly if I leave it?”
“Yes.” Emily took the cup, and she felt him lower her back. He pulled her knapsack under her head.
“There. Now you can sip the water. I’ll go start stewing something for you.”
Emily lay there, careful only to take small sips of water. By the time she had finished the cup, Wes had come into her tent, his eyes eager. “How do you feel, sis?”
“Much better.”
“What a relief! You gave me quite a scare.” Wes reached over and brushed her damp hair back off her forehead. “I didn’t bargain for your getting so sick when we came out here.”
“I hope you never get malaria.”
“Ian says I probably will if I stay here long enough. He says everybody gets it sooner or later.”
Wes sat down, and when she asked him, he helped her get into a sitting position. He held her braced against his arm and said, “I don’t ever remember being so scared. There’s no doctor around to help when somebody gets hurt or sick this far in the interior.”
“I’m sorry to be such a trouble.”
“Don’t be silly!”
He sat there holding her and then said, “I don’t think Ian has slept more than three or four hours a night. I just fall over sometimes. This heat drains me, but he seems to be used to it. He’s quite a nurse. And he sure knows how to pray, sis. He’s done a lot of that for you.”
Emily took a sip of the water and suddenly caught an odor of something that smelled heavenly. “I’m so hungry,” she said.
“That’s good. You’ve got to eat to get your strength back.”
Thirty minutes later Ian stooped and came into the small tent. “Kind of crowded, but you hold her up, Wes, and I’ll feed her.”
“I can feed myself,” Emily protested.
“No, let me do it.” Ian dipped a spoonful of the stew, blew on it, then held it out as he would to a child. “Open wide,” he grinned.
Emily opened her mouth, feeling rather foolish. The stew was delicious, and she smacked her lips. “That’s so good.”
“I won’t tell you what’s in it,” Ian smiled.
“It’s not monkey, is it?”
“No, it’s not monkey. It’s a bird that lives around here. They’re about the size of doves. It takes several of them to make a meal, but it’s the best thing in Brazil, I think.”
Emily ate as fast as he could put the stew in her mouth, and as soon as he was finished feeding her, an irresistible fatigue and urge for sleep overtook her. “Thank you. That was . . . good. . . .”
Wes stared at her. “She fainted.”
“She’s just worn out. Lay her back down. She won’t need all these blankets. She’ll be better now.”
The two men moved outside the tent, and Ian said, “We can go back if you’d like, Wes. We can make a stretcher, of sorts, and carry her.”
“I don’t know, Ian. You know Emily. She’s pretty stubborn. You think she’ll be all right if we go on?”
“We’ll have to stay here for a couple of days and keep her fed and let her get a little exercise. She won’t be able to carry much, so you and I’ll have to double up.”
“I don’t mind that.”
“All right. We’ll see what she says in the morning. But like you say, she’s a stubborn woman. I think she’ll want to go on.”
****
Emily stretched and said, “I feel so dirty. If I could just take a bath, I’d feel so much better.” She had washed her clothes during the three days they had waited and had done little else except eat the meat, wild fruits, and berries Ian brought into camp. Now, however, she ran her hand through her hair, which was stiff and lank. She had washed her face, but that didn’t feel like enough.
“No reason why you can’t,” Ian said. “There’s the river.”
Emily stared at him. “I’d be afraid to get in that. I’ve heard of piranha.”
“I was scared to get in the rivers myself when I first came, but I found out that not all piranhas are vicious, only certain ones. They’ve got a bad reputation, but they don’t attack a large animal unless the scent of blood is already in the water. We can find you a nice open space, and I’ll check it out.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Emily waited for fifteen minutes; then Ian came back to say, “There’s a good place down here that’s cut off from the main stream. No fish in it at all. You have soap?”
“Yes, but no towels. You wouldn’t let me bring any,” she said accusingly.
“Well, you can use a couple of your shirts and mine, too, if you need to. Come along. Wes, we’ve got to give the patient a bath.”
Emily stared at him and flushed. “Never
mind that,” she muttered.
She followed Ian down to the stream that was less than two hundred yards away. It was much wider than she thought and shielded on both banks by vegetation.
“There’s a nice sandy bottom right here. The water’s clear.”
“What about snakes?” Wes said.
“Well, I didn’t see any. I was taking a bath once, and an anaconda went swimming by. He looked like he was thirty feet long.”
“Did he see you?”
“I don’t know. I stayed mighty still, so he went on. Wes and I’ll wait within hollering distance. If you see a snake, give me a call.”
Emily waited until the two men disappeared, then slipped out of her clothes. With her bar of soap in her hand, she stepped into the stream, which was deliciously cool, and sat down. She washed her hair first, soaped herself all over, rinsed off, then did it all again.
From time to time she would look around cautiously but saw no sign of snakes or any other dangerous creatures. She did see a frog such as she had never seen before, a brilliant crimson color.
Finally she got out of the pool, dried herself off, and climbed into dry clothes. Slipping on her socks and her boots, she let her hair hang down and walked over to where she could hear the voices of the two men speaking quietly. “I’m ready,” she said.
Ian stepped out, still holding the rifle, and she said, “There was a red frog in there. I never saw a red frog before.”
“It’s probably a poison dart frog.”
“He’s poisonous?”
“The Indians make a pretty powerful poison out of him, so I wouldn’t pick one up if I were you.”
At that instant Wes said, “Look at that!”
Emily turned and blinked with surprise. She could not believe what she was seeing. “Is that a lizard?” she whispered.
Ian was smiling. “That’s a basilisk,” he said.
“What’s it doing? It’s running on top of the water on its hind legs!” Wes gasped. “I never saw anything like that!”
Emily stared at the lizard that was, indeed, skimming across the water bolt upright with his small legs held in front of him. “How does he do that?”
“Just sheer speed, I think. He doesn’t weigh much.” Ian suddenly laughed. “The natives call him the Jesus Christ lizard.”
“Why in the world do they call him that?”
“I preached a sermon shortly after I got here. I didn’t have much of their language yet. I was preaching about Jesus walking on the water, and when I said that, all the natives began to murmur in surprise. One of them told me about this lizard that walks on water. I thought they were kidding me until I saw my first one. That’s what they call it now—the Jesus Christ lizard. Made a pretty effective illustration.”
Emily watched as the lizard went back and forth over the water and then said, “I never saw anything like that.”
****
Emily’s strength came back quickly with a few days of rest and nourishment, and soon she was ready to continue their journey to the Guapi tribe. She informed Ian, and he agreed, that if she felt strong enough, they would start the next morning.
The night before they continued on their trip, Emily lay in her tent. She was so accustomed now to the jungle night sounds, they no longer frightened her. She began to pray but found it a struggle. For some reason she felt far away from God. This had happened to her before, of course, so she simply waited and finally asked God, “What’s wrong, Lord? Why can’t I feel your presence?”
There was no answer in her spirit, not for a long time. But finally Emily began to think of Ian Marlowe, and she knew then what the problem was.
I still haven’t forgiven him.
The thought leaped into her mind, and she knew instantly that God was trying to tell her something. Emily knew her Bible well, and nothing was clearer than the New Testament teaching embodied in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.”
The words seemed to be burned on Emily’s mind and in her spirit. She lay awake that night struggling with her feelings. Seeing Ian Marlowe, the man she had known as James Parker, had brought back all the memories of those times. She knew that she felt humiliated as a woman, for he had deceived her and caused her to fall in love with him. Then, when she had found out what kind of man he truly was, she had felt shamed. Even now, after these years of trying to forget what he’d done, she did not really know whether she had grown angrier with the man called James Parker for his deceit about her brother, or for his misleading her into feelings for him that she now regretted.
Emily Winslow struggled with all those thoughts for a long time that night, and finally in desperation she prayed, “Oh, God, I can’t forgive him!” The silence seemed to be almost deafening, and finally she turned over and managed to go to sleep. She had, however, just before she dropped off, a sudden thought: I’ve got to settle this matter, or I can’t go on with God.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I Never Loved Anyone. . . .”
Emily sat with her back against a towering tree, notebook in hand, and pencil scrolling across the page. She had decided to use pencils instead of pens, since the dampness would be apt to spoil the ink. She had been awakened earlier by Wes and had joined the men at breakfast. Now while they were packing the gear, she put her thoughts down in writing:
The malaria did something to me mentally, I think, as well as physically. Naturally it was a miserable time with aches, pains, and fevers. I was either freezing to death or burning up. Ian says that it may come back when I least expect it. I feel much stronger this morning, but I still am not as well as I would like to be. We will be leaving in a few minutes, and Ian says we will reach the Guapi village sometime late this afternoon. I am anxious to get there so I can start my work.
Emily looked up and noted that Wes was laughing at something Ian had said. For some reason Wes’s amusement caused a resentment she could not define. She knew it was tied up somehow with her feelings toward Ian, and as she began writing again, she let her thoughts flow freely onto the paper.
My sickness showed me how weak and frail I really am. I could easily have died and been buried here, and everything would have been over for me. For a time I thought I would die, and curiously enough I was not so much afraid as disappointed. I kept thinking, “But, God, I’ve got to live! There are so many things I need to do.” Maybe everyone who dies thinks of everything they wished they could have finished. I remember those were the words my grandmother said when she died. She hated to leave things undone. That’s exactly how I felt when I thought that death was imminent.
I might as well put down on paper what I feel and hope that no one ever reads it. I’ve been struggling for so long over my feelings toward Ian. Perhaps I should say toward James Parker. I have trouble at times remembering that Ian Marlowe and James Parker are one and the same man. I’ve harbored such bitterness for the man who deceived my family and me for so long, but now I’m confused. I remember Mom and Dad urged me to forgive James, but when I received his letter I didn’t do that. And now there’s something deep down inside of me, sort of like a cancer, I suppose, that keeps eating away at my spirit. I’ve known for a long time that I couldn’t pray as I could before I developed this bitterness. Now it seems to be with me constantly.
Emily broke off when Wes came over and said, “All ready to head out, sis.”
Scrambling to her feet, Emily folded the cover of the notebook and stuck the pencil in her pocket. “I’m ready.”
Ian came over and handed her a knapsack that could not have weighed over fifteen pounds. “I can carry more than this,” Emily protested.
“I don’t want you to push too hard,” Ian said. “Wes and I can handle the rest of the gear.” Ian looked up at the sunlight suffused through the canopy and said, “We’ll take it easy today. If we don’t reach the Guapi today, we’ll make it tomorrow.”
Emily nodded, although the words almost leaped to her lips, You don’t have to slow down for me.
She had always recognized the streak of stubbornness that lay in her, but she had always called it by a nobler name. Perseverance, perhaps. Determination. Here in the jungle, far from anything civilized, she realized this was no time to be stubborn. Despite her feelings for Ian Marlowe, her life and Wes’s were in his hands. “All right,” she said. “You’re the guide.”
“Well, I must say, malaria has improved your disposition.” Ian grinned at her and reached out and tugged a lock of hair that hung down her back. “You’re getting absolutely tame.”
Emily could not help returning his smile, but she pushed his hand away. “Never mind that. Let’s get going.”
They donned their knapsacks, and Ian, carrying the rifle as usual, was in the lead. Emily followed him, with Wes bringing up the rear. As they made their way through the jungle, Emily was conscious that her strength was limited. She, who had always been strong, now was at the mercy of her own frailty. Determined not to show it, she trekked along through the silent jungle all morning. She was thankful for the breaks Ian had taken during the morning so she could rest a bit.
Suddenly Ian said, “There’s a snake over here, but it’s harmless. Don’t let it frighten you.”
Emily turned quickly in the direction Ian was pointing the muzzle of his rifle. She took a deep breath, for there was a large snake with beautiful green and blue markings with white rings.
“You say it’s harmless, Ian?”
“To us it is. I suppose it’s dangerous to mice and rats. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Emily stared at the snake. “I’ve always been terrified of snakes. Do you really think he’s beautiful?”
“God has made everything beautiful in its time.”
“Is that in the Bible?”
“Why, yes it is. It’s in Ecclesiastes 3:11, I believe.”
Emily quickly turned from the serpent to study Ian’s face. Even as she did, she realized this man was very different from the James Parker she remembered.
The Amazon Quest (House of Winslow Book #25) Page 22
