by Linda George
Alex had no idea what to expect from this group, just as he never knew what to expect from any group. Now, though, the idea of spending two weeks with a beautiful woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a shy smile made him happier than he’d been in a long time. He pulled a list of names from his pocket. Which one was she, he wondered? In the morning, he’d ask her name.
Chapter 4
Sharon disappeared into the bathroom immediately while Lynn chose one of the queen-sized beds and turned the covers back. She heard the shower. All those long hours on the plane had been spent in anticipation, excitement, and fatigue, followed by complete exhaustion. After that harrowing ride to the hotel, hot water was exactly what they both needed to be able to sleep the rest of the night. Breakfast was included in their stay at Casa Andina, so they’d have to be up no later than seven if they were going to get dressed, to the restaurant off the lobby for the breakfast buffet, then back to the room for a few minutes before it was time to leave at nine.
Lynn wandered around the room and stopped before a set of figures on the wall that seemed to be a mother, father, and child. But all three were naked, with nothing hidden. She’d seen the same three figures in the lobby. Were they specific to the hotel, or to Lima, or to Peru? She had no idea. She looked at the rest of the décor. It was a perfect blend of earth tones and soft patterns. She opened the curtains on the huge windows at one end of the room but couldn’t see much outside. There were lights on vehicles, but no way to see the buildings clearly, or anything in the distance. Mountains or the Pacific?
Lynn realized she should have gone through the tour information while on the plane. Right now, her mind was so muddled, she couldn’t remember what they were scheduled to see tomorrow. No, make that later today.
Sharon emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “Your turn!”
“Thanks.” Lynn headed for the bathroom and immediately turned the hot water back on to keep the room steamy and warm. After washing away muscle tension, and a kink in her back from that awful seat on the plane from Houston, she washed her long hair, turned the water off with regret that she couldn’t stay longer, then stepped out onto the mat. She enjoyed the soft towel on her skin, and slipped into the red flannel pajamas she’d bought just for this vacation. By the time she’d combed her hair, creamed her face, and brushed her teeth, Sharon was in bed, almost asleep.
Lynn tiptoed to her own bed.
Sharon roused. “I set the alarm for 7:00. We’ll have to eat breakfast and have our teeth brushed by 9:00, when the van gets here.”
“Great. For our first day of touring, I’ll be half-asleep.” She settled into the soft sheets and pulled the comforter up around her neck. “One more night here, right?”
“Right. Then on to Cusco. No more talking. Sleep.”
Lynn appreciated the pillowtop mattress, and relaxed into her down pillow.
“So far so good,” she whispered. Sharon was already asleep.
Lynn turned off the light and closed her eyes. Just before she drifted off, she remembered Alex Vereau’s smile, his kind eyes, and heard his laugh just before the elevator door closed.
She whispered again, “So far so good.”
<><><><>
Alex appreciated the group’s request that he stay at the hotels where the group would be staying on this tour. Usually, he went home to Cusco every evening and got up early to return to wherever they were staying for the next morning’s tour. Of course, he usually didn’t do the part of the tour in Lima.
After a shower, he fell into bed, turned off the light, and closed his eyes. Her face still lingered in his memory. He definitely had to learn her name first thing in the morning.
<><><><>
When the alarm went off, Lynn wanted to turn over and go back to sleep. Sharon was already dragging herself into the bathroom to dress and, as she always said, “find her face and glue it back on.”
Lynn got up and went to the windows to check out the view. What she saw was nothing she’d expected. Full cloud cover. No sun at all. Fog. The poem, “Fog,” by Carl Sandburg came to mind. It ended with “then moved on.” This fog, though, showed no sign of moving anywhere, on “little cat feet” or any other way. It engulfed everything she could see—buildings that, in places, looked like someone had put them up with colored cardboard, and people scurrying below, dressed in warm clothes with jackets. The morning traffic appeared to be as bad as it had been last night, even at this early hour.
“Sharon! Come look at this! Our first glimpse of Lima!”
Sharon emerged, trying to poke earrings through her earlobes. She looked, but didn’t say anything for a minute. “Okay. Where are the mountains? The Pacific? And look at the traffic! It must be morning rush hour. Or second rush hour? I think I read there are about eight million people in the Lima area. They may have rush hour all day long!”
“I have no idea which direction we’re facing, so I have no clue about the ocean or mountains. Since the sun is completely obscured, we can’t tell which way is east. For that matter, where is the sun? We obviously got here on a rainy day. It’s winter here, after all. Maybe the fog and clouds will burn off by this afternoon. Where are we going first?”
“Not sure. Some ruins with a huge pyramid, I think. Then the Larco Museum for a tour and late lunch. According to my guide book, the grounds around that Museum are covered with flowers, every color you can imagine. Don’t forget your camera!”
As if anyone on this tour could forget to bring a camera! Lynn rushed to the bathroom to get ready, with Sharon coaxing her constantly.
“You look gorgeous! No need to mar that natural beauty with a lot of make-up! Just brush your hair and let it fly!”
Lynn managed to get ready in record time, in spite of the fatigue from lack of sleep. At least she’d be able to rest a little on the bus on the way. She brushed her hair back into a pony tail and secured it with an elastic band.
Downstairs, after breakfast, Alex waited by the front door. “The van is here. Watch your step getting on.” He was wearing a white straw hat with a moss green and cranberry hatband that crossed in the back. He nodded to her and held the door.
“It’s foggy this morning.”
“Yes, it’s always foggy here in the winter.”
“How many months of winter do you have?”
“Nine.”
Lynn stopped and stared at him. “Nine? When it is not winter?”
“January, February, and March. That’s when Lima has sun and rain.”
“Doesn’t it rain during the winter?”
“Never. Just thick clouds and fog. Watch your step getting on the van. The steps will be damp.”
He offered his hand and she took it. Again, she noticed his soft touch. His other hand in the middle of her back—to steady her, he said—felt just as nice. She made her way into the back row of seats next to Sharon.
“Did you hear what he said about there being no sunshine or rain here except during the summer?”
“Yes, but it’s hard to believe. How can people live without sun and rain for three-fourths of the year?”
“I guess the fog and clouds won’t be burning off by the afternoon.”
Alex greeted them and expressed his hope that they’d enjoy their tour. He asked if they would tell him their names, which he promised to forget the minute he heard them.
Lynn smiled at that. They began in the front. She and Sharon were last to share their names. When he heard her name, he smiled and paused for a couple of seconds before getting back to his narrative about Peru. He seemed to be making an effort to establish eye contact with each person, but did he look at her more often than the others?
They experienced another harrowing ride through Lima, with Alex pointing out buildings and plazas and other sites, then giving brief information about each one. A great deal of what he told them had to do with Lima’s history, and that of the country. Lynn was surprised at how quickly she got used to the traffic, in spite of all the honking and stree
t noises. She was finally able to look out the windows and still concentrate on what Alex was telling them without being overly distracted by the extraordinary number of cars, trucks, and buses, and the honking that never seemed to stop. Alex explained that the drivers used hand signals to let other drivers know when they needed to change lanes or turn. Amazingly, all the drivers responded to these signals.
The only time Lynn and the others became concerned was when the van turned onto a street that had been closed in preparation for the festival coming up on the weekend—Peruvian Independence Day, according to Alex. The only way the driver could get out of the dead-end street was to back up, forcing cars behind them to also back up. Lynn noticed the hand signals the driver used to let the cars behind know what he was doing. He curved back the way they’d come, onto the street he’d turned off of, forcing even more vehicles to back up until he was straight on the main street. Then he drove ahead and traffic resumed as usual. Neither he nor Alex seemed to think much about it, and there hadn’t been even one fender-bender during the process.
“It happens all the time,” Alex said, and smiled at Lynn.
By the time they were moving again, she noticed that the traffic moved in an odd sort of rhythm, without any hint of a crash or even a disagreement between drivers. Surely, they had accidents all the time, though.
“Alex, are there many wrecks in Lima?” Lynn asked him.
“Wrecks?” He didn’t seem to understand the question.
“Cars crashing into each other in traffic.”
“Oh! No. Everyone knows the rules.”
Rules? Lynn and Sharon looked at each other, then at Barb, B. J., Cathi, Vicki, Dorothy and Sheila. Lynn saw the same expression on each face—disbelief! She couldn’t imagine trying to drive in Lima in a car, much less a van or bus! Truly, their driver had to be a “professional” in order to assure the safety of his passengers! At that point, Lynn decided it wasn’t worth worrying about the traffic any longer. Instead, she took a deep breath and focused on listening to Alex’s description of the places they passed. One thing was obvious. The citizens of Lima loved flower gardens. They were everywhere! She took photos through the window as they sped along, but didn’t have much hope of their coming out very well because of the movement of the van, and because of the gloom created by the cloud cover. Everything would probably come out gray. It was then she realized that everything they saw had the same general color superimposed over the colors below—a dull gray-brown.
“Alex, what is this gray-brown color on everything?”
He hesitated before answering. “Dirt. Exhaust. It does not rain here for many months, so the grime of daily life is never washed clean until the summer, when the rainy season comes.”
Lynn didn’t know what to say about that, so she just smiled an apology for having asked the question. Alex continued his commentary on the way to the first ruins they’d be touring—a place called Pachacamac, which Lynn had read about when she’d taught a unit on pyramids of the world last year. When his commentary paused, Alex shrugged a little. As much as he loved his country, there were things about it that weren’t beautiful, even to him. She wished she hadn’t asked.
<><><><>
Pachacamac was only twenty miles from Lima, but Alex explained it would take almost an hour to get there. Still disoriented, Lynn asked which direction they were going. South, he said, into the Lurin Valley, where several groups of people had lived before the Inca arrived in the 1200s—the pre-Incan cultures. Some of those cultures were called the Moche, the Wari, and the Nazca. He talked about them all the way, but Lynn had a hard time paying attention. So, she watched Alex gesturing as he explained what they’d be seeing while pointing out places of interest along the way.
It was fascinating how much Alex knew all about this area, and not only general information. He knew specifics and never hesitated even a few seconds before answering questions the group put to him. The smile he wore constantly was proof that he loved his job as a guide.
Before long, she actually dozed off, until the van swerved to miss another tour bus going the other direction.
“What did I miss?” she whispered to Sharon.
“About three hundred years,” Sharon whispered back with a smile.
When they reached the ruins, the driver parked the van and everyone got out. Lynn had read that these ruins included pyramids that, when newly built, were even higher and more massive than the pyramids on the Giza Plateau in Egypt. That was hard for her to imagine, having seen the pyramids of Khufu, Khafre, and Menkaure in television specials. One of the primary differences between the Giza pyramids and the ones here at Pachacamac was the way they were built. These pyramids were built of adobe and had eroded quite a bit over the centuries, while the Giza pyramids were built of limestone.
The bases of the Pachacamac pyramids were still enormous, but the tops had lost a great deal of height since they were built in the first century AD. According to Alex, the Lima civilization that built these pyramids reached their peak during the tenth century AD. The Incas followed in the 1400s, conquered the site, and turned it into a truly magnificent place.
“Here, you can see the Temple of the Sun and the Mamacuña palace, where women chosen by the king lived. If you like, you can climb to the top of the Pyramid of the Sun”—he pointed—“so you can see the river, trees, and other vegetation that grow on the south and southwest sides of the pyramid, and the Pacific Ocean to the west.” Alex introduced them to a guide who spent every day at Pachacamac who would accompany them up the pyramid. Alex would follow to make sure everyone climbed safely and to answer questions from those too far from the guide to be heard.
Lynn was so tired, she didn’t want to use up her energy climbing that enormous structure. How on earth was she going to keep up through so many days of touring?
“I’m going to stay here, I think,” she told Sharon, who looked relieved and said she’d stay with her.
Alex told her he understood the stresses of long flights. “Our driver will be in the van if you wish to sit inside.” He turned toward the pyramid. He turned once and smiled at them. At her? “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
Sharon took a deep breath, then said, “Why not?” She gave Lynn a look that said she’d even climb a pyramid to spend some time with their guide.
Lynn pulled out the guide book on Peru that she’d brought, and tried to read about the site, but she couldn’t focus and kept nodding off. So, she watched the long line of tourists ascending the pyramid on a well-traveled pathway, and tried to pick out their group. There was Barb next to Vicki and B.J., with Cathi, Dorothy and Sheila right behind. Sheila was turned halfway toward Alex, who gestured in the way Lynn had already identified as his way of embellishing whatever he was teaching. Sharon brought up the rear beside Alex. Lynn could imagine the look on her face—fascination. His white hat didn’t shine in the sun, since there was no sun, but it was certainly brighter than the color of the pyramid and all the ground around it.
She realized, then, that the site—all of it—was the same gray-brown as the city had been. No wonder she couldn’t muster any energy. One thing she loved about Virginia was the vast array of color. A hundred shades of green in the foliage, thousands of flowers of every hue, and buildings constructed with a thousand different materials in distinctive colors, gave her all the energy she ever needed. This monochrome environment was overpowering her.
Lynn looked for a place where she could sit and simply become part of the site. People wandered everywhere. She left the pathway to cut across an area covered in footprints, but a man in uniform called to her with a frown on his face. Her Spanish wasn’t great, but she could tell he didn’t like her cutting across that area. She mumbled, “Sorry. I didn’t realize—“
He walked toward her, waving one arm in a gesture clearly meant to direct her back onto the path.
Well. That was interesting. He clearly did not want her walking on his dirt!
She decided to do as Al
ex had suggested and sit on the bus. She made her way back and found the driver asleep in his seat. She tiptoed past him, but he still roused. When he saw her, he got out and stood by the front of the bus.
Sinking into the soft seat, Lynn took several deep breaths and tried to wake up a little. She thumbed through the guide book, wondering what it must it have been like to live here. Thousands of people had called Pachacamac home through the centuries. Did they have full cloud cover most of the year back then? If so, did they paint their homes and the pyramid bright colors to make up for the absence of color around them? She’d ask Alex when he got back.
That turned her thoughts to Alex. Was he married? Did he have a girlfriend? The answer, she knew, had to be yes to at least one or the other. He was too handsome and pleasant not to have someone who loved him, and who enjoyed being with him whenever he wasn’t sharing the history of Peru to a group of turistas. She’d have to ask him.
But why did it matter? She shouldn’t be interested in his personal life, but she was. She wanted to know if, at the end of the day, he’d be going home to a woman who loved and appreciated him, the way he clearly deserved to be appreciated. For a moment she envied him.
Then she realized she didn’t know him at all. How could she? They’d been in the same space—at the hotel last night, then in the van this morning—for only a few hours. When he wasn’t being a guide, he might be a completely different person, but she doubted it. There was a goodness about him that couldn’t be faked. She felt comfortable around him. Surely, if he weren’t as nice off duty as he was to the group, she could tell. Then, she wondered what he thought about all of them? What did he think about her? To him, she was only another turista—and a puny, tired one at that! He probably thought she was out of shape since she hadn’t had the energy to tour even the first place he’d taken the group.
