Gwen struggled to come up with a nice way to say what she knew she had to. Nothing polite came to mind. “I won’t tell you, because I don’t want John to know. He’s stalked me for the last two years and he’s dangerous.” She pushed back from the table.
“John is a good man, Gwennie. He loves you. I’ve spent hours on the phone with him while he’s cried. He feels horrible for getting angry with you and he’s promised to never lose his temper again. You must realize that it takes two. If he’s willing to give you a second chance after leaving him … why can’t you give him a second chance?” Gwen cringed inside. When she’d said John’s name, the floodgate her mother had held at bay opened wide.
Her mother refused to believe that two marital years of hearing the same promises, only to have John hit her again and again, equated to enough second chances. “It’s true, Gwen. I do love you … and I am sorry.” She jerked around at John’s voice behind her as he entered the back door like he owned the place.
“You can’t be here. I’ll call the police.” Her voice whispered past the rush of terror that constricted her throat. With a triumphant smile he pushed a paper across the table so she could read it. The court order was stamped “dismissed” with today’s date. Gwen felt her slowly rebuilt life slip through her fingers like water.
“Would you like some pie?” her mother offered in the singsong voice Carol had used when trying to pacify her dad. She gave Gwen a look that told her to “be nice.”
“Yes, Mrs. Kramer. You know how much I enjoy your home baking.” He pulled out the chair next to hers, sat, and leaned in so his face was mere inches from her. “You look beautiful, Gwen. I’ve missed you so much.” The brush of his fingers on her arm brought up the casserole and Gwen vomited across the table.
John jumped away from her with a hiss. His hand rose as if to slap her. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and flinched instinctively, but the impact never came. When she peeked John was grinning at her playfully. “You always have gotten sick when you’re nervous.” She had to get out of there. “I brought you a present.” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out three florescent pink books.
“My journals.” Gwen reached out her hand. They were the only things she had regretted leaving behind when she’d escaped him.
He held them just out of her reach. “I’ll trade them for a kiss,” he teased.
“Oh, you kids.” Carol sighed loudly. “Young love is so inspiring.”
Gwen managed to stand. Her legs felt like noodles as she started to back away from John, past her mother and toward the front door in the living room. “Keep them.” It broke her heart to see the written account of childhood dreams in John’s slimy hand. If you give him power he will take advantage of it. You must be willing to set aside pride, ego, and personal desires if you wish to remain free of him in heart and mind, Gwen. Breaking the pattern of abuse requires more than just leaving your abuser. Her therapist sessions floated into her mind.
The smile vanished from John’s face with every step backward she took. Recognizing the moment he snapped, she turned and dashed through the screen. His hand shoved right between her shoulder blades, sending her tumbling down the few stairs onto the concrete walkway. The wind whooshed from her lungs. She tried to crawl away from him on her skinned knees and battered hands.
“Gwen!” His voice held a low threat she knew all too well. “Why are you making me do this?”
“Gwennie, please, come back in the house. What will the neighbors think? We don’t air dirty laundry in public,” her mother pleaded.
Tears blurred her vision when John grasped her by the back of her hair, partially lifting her from the ground with a painful grip on her arm, and started to drag her back toward the porch stairs. Like the call of angels, the sound of sirens got louder. Please be coming here. She silently prayed. John stopped and gripped her arm harder. Her arm felt like it was about to snap. He cursed under his breath. His lips at her ear, he whispered too low for Carol to hear, “You are mine, Gwen. You will always belong to me. No matter where you go or how long it takes, I will find you. And when I do, you will come back to me. This isn’t over.” With a final hard tearing yank of her hair, he let her go. She landed back on her scrapped hands and knees. Her journals hit the grass next to her head.
From the corner of her eye she saw him climb into his car and tear out of the driveway. A moment later a police cruiser roared past in the direction John had taken and Martha’s Mercedes pulled up to the curb. Gwen grasped the precious books to her chest.
“That son of a bitch.” Martha squatted daintily next to her and brushed the curls from Gwen’s face. “I went by the university to tell you the judge upheld your restraining order against John. Maggie told me you were here. I had a bad feeling so I called the police. It looks like my suspicions were right.”
With her relief came a few tears. Her mother disappeared into the house with a slam of the screen door. Gwen saw the final look of furious disappointment on her mother’s face as the front door closed and the lock clicked. Somewhere inside Gwen knew she’d never see her mother again.
The police cruiser returned. The officer helped her to her feet and guided her toward Martha’s car. “I lost him. An arrest warrant has been issued. Every officer from here to Memphis will be looking for your ex-husband, ma’am. Come in to the station and I’ll write up the assault charges.”
Gwen could only shake her head. Martha spoke up. “Officer, Dr. Kramer has a plane to catch out of Memphis in a few hours. Would you be willing to escort us to pick up her bags and follow us to the Tennessee state line?”
The officer lips took a grim line. “I’ll do one better than that. My cousin is a Tennessee State trooper. I’ll have him meet us at the state line and escort you from there to the boarding gate.” He opened Martha’s passenger door for her. “I hope you’re going far from here, ma’am.”
Her thumb rubbed the journal as Martha drove her back to the university. Maggie was waiting at her truck, holding a first aid kit when they pulled up. The officer politely transferred Gwen’s bags from Maggie’s truck into Martha’s car trunk. Maggie slid into the back seat and handed her a wipe to start cleaning the small cuts.
“Do you want to file assault charges? I’m sure the officer would do it at the airport before your flight. It might not be a bad idea.” Martha asked pulling from the parking lot leaving Maggie’s truck on campus.
Gwen shook her head. “I just want to get out of here.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Gwen, if he finds you and shows up, then what?” Martha whistled softly like she had a secret. Maggie poked her in the arm. “Deets,” She demanded.
“Well, I sort of anonymously reported him as a terrorist, so his passport will get flagged in customs.” Martha grinned.
“And!” Maggie prompted.
“And … I sent your police files and a copy of the restraining order to the Belize police department.” Martha’s grin turned into a full-blown devious smile. “If he shows up, Senor Jefez, the commissioner of police, assured me himself that they will crawl up his ass with a microscope. I even had him send that to me in writing.”
Gwen was speechless but Maggie wasn’t. “OH, HELLS YA! Martha, you are amazing.”
Martha shrugged and winked at Gwen. “I do what I do.”
Gwen wasn’t amused. “If he finds out, he might go after you, Martha.” Her concern for her friend and attorney overrode the appreciation she knew she should feel.
“Oh, man, I wish he would.” Martha hooted. “Concealed gun permit, two hours a week at the firing range, a black belt in martial arts, and three days a week with a personal trainer would be put to good use on that bastard. In all the battered-women cases I handle, not once have I been able to dole out the deserved justice.”
Gwen wished she were more like Martha or even Maggie. Neither of her friends would ever have ended up with a John.
Chapter Four
Turned out the wealth of his time did not hold much value in the
twenty-first century. It was the forethought of Gia passed through generations that created the legacy of wealth Enrique gave him in the form of paper called money, bonds, and stocks. When he’d tried to give it to Enrique, his nephew had laughed. ‘Trust me, uncle, I am quite … comfortable. I will put it back into the safe for you with your other things.’
With Enrique's help and his own natural talent for language, Arka began to get the feel of the modern world. He still couldn't drive like Enrique and found shoes very uncomfortable, preferring to be barefoot as much as possible. It took six months of helping without invitation at the site of his village before the man in charge had taken notice of Arka and Enrique. Dr. Hanson had broached Enrique first. “Why do you come here every day and donate your time?”
Enrique had shrugged. “My uncle and I have a love for our heritage. By helping, we ensure that our family’s artifacts are in good hands.”
Arka had joined in the conversation using the English he'd picked up. “I am quite knowledgeable on the history of this area.”
Dr. Hanson had narrowed his eyes with suspicion and held up an artifact. Though it was cracked and chipped, Arka knew without question that it had belonged to Arjuna. Sometimes the reminders of those long past people he cared for overwhelmed him. “Tell me what this is.”
He was being tested. The man in charge was very fluent in his culture, though they did not have everything accurate. Arka was surprised at how much the people of this time correctly deduced from mere remnants. “It is a jade jar with the image of Ixchel, the Moon Goddess. It was used by a rites priestess to hold special purification herbs.”
Dr. Hanson looked hard at the image on the jar. “We don't know what the jars held or what they were used for … but you are correct about the Ixchel.” He seemed interested in Arka’s disclosure. “Why do you think it held herbs?”
Enrique chuckled. “From our fathers, and their fathers and so on and so on.”
Arka picked up on Enrique’s clue of how to reinforce the credibility of his knowledge. “My father told me when a boy reached manhood he was sent to the priestess. She would use herbs to purify both the man and herself, and then she would train him in the rites of pleasuring women.”
“Hmm. An interesting theory.” Dr. Hanson smiled in a friendly manner and extended his hand. “Well, gentlemen, you looking for a paid job?”
Arka followed Enrique’s lead and shook Dr. Hanson's hand with a nod. “What are your names?” Enrique introduced them both. “I have a colleague arriving today. I'd like you to work under her direction. Her name is Dr. Gwen Kramer.” Dr. Hanson led them toward the area where Arka had buried the amethyst skull. His heart beat faster with every step. “I want you to start two-foot-square string sections here in advance of her arrival.”
He gave them a serious stare. “Dr. Kramer’s father and I worked on many digs together. I've known her since she was a girl. Without knowing anything, she found amazing artifacts even as a child. I had to beat many rival intern offers to get her here. Treat her with utmost respect.” Dr. Hanson wandered to someone calling to him from another hole.
Arka cleared the area. A vibration of her life force emanated from the deeply buried crystal and steadily increased as he worked, filling him with anticipation. Gwen. Her name rolled through his mind. The heralding of the skull’s vibration made him sure Gwen was the Goddess of Moonlight. Would she recognize him, or had his dreams been the product of his young imagination? They'd been so real to him. Her blond hair had thickened and lengthened while her body changed from that of a girl to a woman who was growing at the same rate as he did. His last dream of her was etched into his mind.
She had knelt in the shadow of the moon’s light. Her delicate hand swirled ripples into a still pool. He'd nearly been able to see her face reflected in the water when he'd stepped up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Instead of taking his hand and running beside him, the way they usually spent their time together, she had dropped her head. Her shoulder shook as if she were weeping. Her hand had risen to his on her shoulder. She squeezed his hand hard and then shimmered away.
In a cloud of dust and crunching tires, a Jeep stopped a few feet from where he knelt. The vibration underground pounded hard in time with his pulse. He could hear the cry of welcome the skull let out. The Goddess of Moonlight had arrived. The daughter of the Moon Goddess, in human form, finally. He tried to see her through the dust, but the sun setting behind her made it impossible.
“Gwen … I mean Dr. Kramer,” Dr. Hanson greeted her.
“Gwen is good, Arthur. Every time I hear Dr. Kramer, I look around for my father.” Her voice rolled over him, heating his blood, and caused more than his heart to pound. She stepped clear of the Jeep and Arka realized his memory of her tiny form was correct. When she hugged Dr. Hanson, the top of her head barely reached his collarbone. Her white-blond hair was in a tight braid down her back, ending at the curve of her bottom, which was perfectly displayed in a pair of tan shorts.
Enrique elbowed him and lifted his eyebrows up and down. “Goddess is fine, my uncle,” he whispered.
Arka scowled at him. “Of course she’s fine. She’s a goddess. No illness would ever come to her.”
Enrique erupted in laughter and made an hourglass shape with his hands. “I mean fine.”
Arka could not agree with his nephew’s assessment more. His manhood bobbed behind his zipper, making its opinion of the goddess known as well. Not that he would ever risk the god’s wrath by saying it out loud. Goddesses were to be worshipped, not ogled.
“I can't tell you how happy I am you chose to join me for your internship. The competition for you was fierce.” Dr. Hanson seemed on the verge of bursting with excitement.
Her soft laugher filled the air—even the birds in the trees quieted to listen. “You know my passion for Maya, Inca, and Aztec culture. Plus, how could I say no to you. Of course, the promise of my own dig site helped my decision to come to Central America.”
“Would you like to see your new home?” He lifted his palm to indicate the mobile metal structure a few men had rolled near where Enrique and Arka were making lines with string and sharpened sticks.
All afternoon people had brought things—food, equipment, and a wood and cloth dwelling structure. “That tent is for us,” Enrique had told him before he’d left, only to return a few hours later with his and Arka’s belongings, clothing, and sleeping rolls. Arka had taken a short break to bury the Sun God’s skull for safekeeping.
The Goddess of Moonlight’s voice floated to him again. “Later. You know what I want to see, Arthur. Don't tease.” The shadow of her hat hid her upper face, but her ruby-colored lips against the paleness of her cheeks made him think of juicy berries. His mouth salivated. Her full breasts quivered with each step she took. Entranced by the appearance of her nipples as they peaked beneath the cream-colored tank top, he failed to notice her pace slow.
His eyes rose to meet hers. Dark, indigo blue like the night sky, they held him captivated. He heard her draw in a quick, startled breath as her hand fluttered to her chest. The skull pounded a final crescendo only he could feel from beneath the ground and fell silent. Instinctively Arka dropped to one knee, forearm braced on his thigh, and bowed his head to her.
“You got a rock in your shoe?” Enrique nudged him with his leg and extended his hand to the goddess with a smile. Arka looked at his bare foot. He didn’t have a rock … oh, the bow. He realized what he’d just done without thought. “Welcome Dr. Kramer, I'm Enrique and this is my uncle Arka.”
He raised his head to look upon her beauty but remained kneeling. Her hand trembled; her eyes remained locked to his as she shook his nephew’s hand. “Arka … like the Mayan Journeyer of myth?” He gave her a single nod. A radiant smile lit her face. “That has always been my favorite story. I used to make my father tell it to me over and over as a girl. I know this is crazy but, you seem … familiar. Did you study in Mississippi?”
Relief flooded him. She'
d shared his dreams after all. “I am not formally educated, Dr. Kramer. My skills are from my forefathers.” He answered with a thick voice he barely recognized as his.
“I've hired these gentlemen to work under your direction.” Dr. Hanson gave Arka a confused look. “I'll leave it to them to show you the site. Enrique, please make sure Dr. Kramer's bags get to her trailer.” Enrique went to the Jeep and Dr. Hanson returned to his duties, leaving Arka and Gwen staring at each other.
“Are you … um … okay? You might want to breathe. Your lips are turning blue.” She shifted from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. He took a deep, loud breath, and she smiled again. He hadn’t realized he was holding it.
Arka hesitated. If he rose, she would see the evidence of her effect on him, but he had little choice. Sure enough, her gaze traveled down his chest and lingered at the bulge in his shorts before she blushed and looked away. He wished he could take her hand as he'd done in his dreams. Instead he simply walked beside her.
She removed her hat, stepped carefully over the strings, squatted, and placed her other hand directly over the location of the skull. “You are going to share your treasures with me?” she whispered to the ground. The sun reflected off her hair, held tightly bound to her head by the braid.
Arka grinned at the look of joy on her beautiful face. “Would you like to start now?” he asked. Despite the dark circles of fatigue under her eyes, she nodded. Arka searched through the tools that had been dropped off when the trailer had been delivered, giving him a much-needed moment to collect his thoughts.
She'd laid out a tarp when he returned with a trowel, screen, and brush. She bounced up and down on her toes, her hands clasped together at her chest. Every hop lifted a peek of cleavage into view at the top of her shirt. The blood he'd begged back to his brain turned traitor and returned to his groin. He gave the sun a brief glare. Kinich Ahau, you are cruel to this man. I hope you find your manhood as uselessly hard as mine is right now, he mentally told the Sun God with an internal groan.
Mayan Lover Page 3
