The Jaguar Queen

by Betsey Kulakowski

  Bahati returned with a bottle of water. “Looks like your fridge is a bit empty. The cupboards are bare too.”

  “I haven’t had time to go to the store lately,” Lauren admitted. “With Rowan gone, it was just easier to go pick up a meal.”

  “Well if you’ll make me a list, I’ll run to the store before the pizza gets here.”

  “Sure,” Lauren reached for the notebook by the table. She and Rowan were both writers—it was part of their jobs—so there was always a pad of paper or a journal nearby. This one was full of notes for the show they’d done on Atlantis. “Just give me a minute.”

  She jotted down some things that would be easier for her to manage on her own. Not knowing how much longer it would be until Rowan came home, she figured she’d better get used to being self-sufficient while doing as little as possible. She gave the list to Bahati. “That ought to hold me,” she said.

  Bahati inspected the list. “Doesn’t seem like much,” she said.

  “It’ll do.”

  “If you say so. I’ll be back in a bit. Got your phone handy?”

  “Right here.” Lauren held it up.

  Poor Bahati. Lauren knew she had been by her bedside through the worst of her illness while she was in and out of delirium. She knew she could count on her co-worker. She curled up around her pillow, wishing it were Rowan. She needed him home, so she didn’t have to burden her friends. She sighed, picking up the remote. She flipped through the channels.

  Six weeks of this? Could she do it? Lauren wasn’t sure.

  * * *

  The muscle relaxers kicked in with a vengeance. Rowan was knocked out cold. Jean-René sat beside him on the airplane and prayed to God the thing didn’t crash. There wouldn’t be any way he could get over Rowan’s limp form if he had to evacuate in a hurry. He’d never imagined himself going out of the world that way. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility with as much traveling as they did. Alejandro had won the draw for the window seat, leaving Jean-René stuck between the two of them. He barely had enough room to set his iPad up on the tray table. With his earbuds stuck in his ears, he began replaying the video they’d collected, watching for anything they hadn’t noticed before.

  Rowan, with his chair leaning back as far as it would possibly go, snored so loud Jean-René could hear it through his so-called noise-cancelling headphones. It made Jean-René’s task more difficult. He finally gave up. They’d be in Houston before long, and he’d have a chance to get up and stretch his legs... assuming they could wake Rowan and get him up and moving.

  “So...” Alejandro nudged him. Jean-René lifted the headphones from his ear. “Who do you think the girl was? If she wasn’t Stephanie Wentworth?”

  Jean-René made a purely French noise in the back of his throat. “No telling. Dr. Rick said he’d keep in touch with her and see if he couldn’t help her.”

  “Have you gotten to Rowan’s body cam footage yet?”

  “No,” he said. “I’ve still got a hundred hours of my own footage to review.”

  “I’ll be anxious to see what you find,” Alejandro said.

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  Once she had her fill of pizza, Lauren got up long enough for a warm shower before she put on her pajamas. She found Bahati camped out on the sofa, watching television. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going home.”

  “I decided I’d just crash here tonight,” Bahati said. “If you don’t mind of course. It’s storming and I really don’t want to get out on the roads at a time like this.”

  Lauren glanced out the window, realizing the wind had picked up and the rain was coming down in sheets. It reminded her of growing up in Oklahoma where weather like this was more common. A rumble of thunder punctuated Bahati’s story, and Lauren nodded. “I wouldn’t want you out in that,” she said. “The sofa makes out into a bed, if you want me to show you how.”

  “No,” Bahati said, inspecting the sofa. “This is fine.”

  “Well the blankets are in the trunk over in the corner. There’s a pillow in there too.”

  “Thank you,” Bahati said. “Did the shower help?”

  “Yeah,” Lauren said, yawning. “See you in the morning.”

  “Good night.” Bahati got up to fetch the blankets and a pillow.

  Lauren paused to open the blinds in her room so she could watch the storm. She wasn’t sure she’d sleep any time soon. The lightning over the harbor was more interesting than anything on television this time of night. She lay down and made herself comfortable. A crackling bolt of lightning raced across the sky, illuminating the room, followed by a crash of thunder.

  She fell asleep much quicker than she expected, and she had been thinking of Rowan, when she nodded off. At some point in the night, she rolled over and found him lying beside her. She curled up into the crook of his arm, resting her head on his shoulder, running a hand down his chest. She sighed, breathing deeply, smelling the faint hint of his cologne beneath the musky smell of unwashed male. He pulled her in and kissed her head, before they drifted back to sleep in each other’s arms.

  Chapter 13

  The sun was up when Lauren woke. She thought it odd the blankets on Rowan’s side of the bed had been tossed back, as if he’d just left it. Lauren rolled over and blinked back the strange dreams. She closed her eyes, knowing there was nowhere she needed to be. Even if she wanted to go somewhere, she couldn’t. She began to drift back to sleep. The dreamy moment of bliss lasted only a moment when she realized she could smell bacon. That was odd. Bahati didn’t like bacon. She never made it. Why would she? Lauren threw back the covers, and rolled over slowly, making her way to her feet, pulling on her bathrobe, and stepping into her slippers.

  She shuffled into the living room and froze as Rowan came around the corner, holding a plate of golden, steaming pancakes, slathered with butter, and drizzled with syrup. A side of crispy bacon confirmed her senses. Lauren let out a yelp and stumbled backwards, catching herself on the door frame. “Rowan! You’re home?”

  He looked pained as he sat the plate down and reached for her, drawing her into his arms. “I got in a couple of hours ago,” he said, holding her, realizing she was shivering. “You curled up next to me and slept on my shoulder. Don’t you remember?”

  “I thought I’d called you into my dreams,” Lauren sniffed. “I’m so glad you’re home.” She leaned back and kissed him fiercely. He winced but made no noise. He didn’t try to pull away. “You’re hurt?” She backed away, holding him at arm’s length so she could inspect him. His neck was still stiff, and he had a wicked bruise on his forehead, right at the edge of his hairline. His left eye was black and blue. “What happened?”

  “I took a tumble during one of the night investigations. Nothing serious,” he said. “But you’re supposed to be in bed. I was just bringing you breakfast.”

  “And it smells wonderful.” She conceded and returned to bed. He brought the plate and handed it to her. “I’ll go make you a cup of coffee.”

  “I can’t have it,” she said. “Just some juice or better yet, water.”

  “No coffee?” Rowan stopped mid-turn. She realized he had to turn his whole body to look back at her. “Really?”

  “Doctor said no caffeine. No tea, no coffee, no sodas.”

  Rowan gazed at her, stone-faced. “That’s probably better for you and the baby anyway,” he said, headed back to the kitchen.

  He returned with a glass of orange juice and had a plate for himself. He climbed into bed beside her and sat cross-legged as they ate in companionable silence. It was good to be home. Nothing could make him go off and leave her again. He’d given the crew the rest of the week off. They’d pick back up analyzing the data the following Monday. They were due some downtime. And after the curious turn of events with the mystery woman on the night of the solstice, he needed the rest too. Hopefully in a few days, his back would be better. He had enough muscle relaxers, he hoped, to make that happen.

  �
�There’s more, if you’re still hungry,” Rowan said.

  “No, thank you.” She handed him her empty plate.

  He finished his. “So, Netflix and binge today?”

  “Not like I’m going anywhere.” Lauren glanced out the window. She scooted down under the blankets, pulling the comforter up over her shoulders. He took their plates away and returned, climbing into bed beside her. He took another muscle relaxer and settled where she could curl up next to him. “How are you feeling? Better?”

  “Tons.” Lauren sighed. “I guess Bahati told you how sick I was.”

  “She did,” he said. “More than once, I wanted to come home... investigation be damned.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.” She yawned. “You couldn’t have done anything. Now, tell me about what you found?”

  Rowan proceeded to tell her about their adventures. “The coolest part was this cenote we dove in,” he said, telling her all about the skeletons and the altar. He was prepared for the scolding he knew would follow. She hated caves and diving in them was even worse. Because she was afraid, she worried for him, and hated him taking unnecessary risks. Much to his surprise, though, she didn’t say anything, so he continued. He didn’t leave out the part about the carving at the bottom of the cenote, or the ancient Maya glyphs that the sun had illuminated. He talked all about their margarita nights and some of the unique things they found, but he trailed off when he realized she’d nodded off, as he lay flat on his back. He’d been daydreaming as he talked, realizing he was drowsy too.

  * * *

  Rowan was snoring vigorously when she woke up. She got up and went to the kitchen to get something to drink, finding his backpack on the kitchen table. They usually brought one another little trinkets when they traveled separately. She grinned, wondering what he’d brought her. She unzipped the bag and recoiled at the smell before rummaging through the pack, pulling out a sweaty t-shirt, damp socks... and a pair of swampy boxer shorts. She had to wonder how long they’d been in there. Still, she couldn’t just leave them to mildew. She pinched her nose carrying them to the laundry, tossing them in and set the washer to run.

  She shook her head as she washed her hands and then went back to her search. She found his favorite camera and his digital voice recorder. She studied them both, realizing the battery on the voice recorder was completely drained. She took it over to the charging station at his desk and plugged it in. She then went to his camera and scrolled through the digital images. He was a good photographer. After years working with Jean-René, he’d better be. He was a good writer too. Combined, he’d used his talents to host a blog for the Exploration Channel.

  It reminded Lauren about needing to talk to him about the travel show the Network bosses were interested in. She was bound and determined to talk them out of it. The last thing she wanted to do was travel with a newborn. Traveling was difficult enough without diapers, baby wipes and breastfeeding. She cringed thinking about all the times she’d been trapped in a plane with a baby. The changing pressure in the cabin usually sent them wailing as their little ears popped. She’d been seated next to an exhausted mother on one flight. The poor woman ended up changing a particularly stinky diaper right there in the aisle. The smell was so bad the flight attendant passed out free bottles of booze. It kept the rest of the passengers from revolting.

  Lauren had ended up with the baby on her shoulder long enough for the woman to go dispose of the diaper and wash her hands. When she returned, Lauren had calmed the child and it had fallen asleep in her arms with her hair wrapped in its chubby little fist. They spent the rest of the flight that way, and the child’s mother managed a brief nap before they got into LAX.

  A week later, a bouquet of flowers arrived at her office with a thank you note from the mother. The woman recognized Lauren from her TV show. She hadn’t done it for the thanks. She’d done it because she secretly loved babies. It’d been a long time since she’d gotten to hold one. She never expected to have one of her own someday. She’d resigned herself early in her career to being married to her job. Rowan had changed all that. Having a baby of her own hadn’t even been on her radar.

  A foot caught her in the ribs, reminding her of the little one she would hold soon. She returned to her rummaging. At the bottom of his backpack, she found a tiny parcel wrapped in layers of paper packing material. Inside, was a terracotta ceramic tile, a Maya glyph, intended to be used as a coaster. She inspected it with a bemused huff of amusement. “Cute,” she chortled.

  Rowan found her standing there. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” He came up behind her, snaking his arms around her middle, resting his head on her shoulder, sighing. “Oh, I see you found your present.”

  “Ek Balam, the jaguar god,” she said. “I love it.”

  Rowan’s head cocked sideways. “How did you know it was the jaguar?”

  She gave a half-hearted lift of her shoulder. “I don’t know, but that’s what it says.” She ran her thumb along the pattern. “Literally, this means, he who kills with one blow.” She pointed out each of the syllables and markings spelled out in the square.

  “Since when did you learn to read ancient Maya?”

  She lifted her shoulder again. “I don’t know. I’ve been doing a lot of reading and research while you were gone. I feel like I’ve been reading in my sleep.”

  “I thought you dreamt only of me while I was gone.” He kissed her cheek.

  “I did dream of you,” she said. “You came to see me in the hospital. Bahati said you were diving in a cenote, but you were here. You kissed me, just like that.”

  “I guess my secret is out. You weren’t supposed to know about the cenote.”

  “Uh huh.” She chortled. “Just promise me you didn’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  “Would I do that?” Rowan gasped, a titter of nervous laughter escaped his throat.

  “Yes, and we both know it.” She wormed her way out of his grasp. She finally made it to the kitchen, which had been her original plan.

  “There’s one other present for you.” He stepped around her, pulling the backpack across the table. He rummaged through pockets, trying to find it. It took him a moment, but he finally produced a small plastic zip-top bag with a form in it. He handed her the bag. She looked at the paper through the plastic, puzzled, then flipped the bag over. Inside, a silver cartouche with Maya hieroglyphs caught the light of the sun coming through the sliding glass doors nearby. A wide smile spread across her face.

  “It’s your name in Maya,” Rowan said and took the packet back. He opened it.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t her name. It was just a series of symbols equating to little more than gibberish.

  He leaned in and kissed her, pressing her stomach to his. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I’m going to make a salad. Do you want some?”

  “No,” he said, taking the head of romaine from her hand. “You’re going to go lay down. I’m going to make us salads.”

  “With some grilled chicken?”

  “I’ll even make my homemade creamy garlic dressing.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You want everything on it?”

  “Of course,” Lauren said. “Bahati went to the store for me yesterday. Should be plenty of fixings.”

  He reached in the refrigerator for a bottle of mineral water. “Your favorite.” He held it up. She snagged it from him and returned to her bed, straightening up the blankets before climbing back in.

  * * *

  She sat picking lint off the duvet cover, glancing out the window. The ocean was a deeper blue than the sky. The sliding door leading out to the patio was open, letting in the warm breeze. The air smelled of salt and the sea. She sighed as she sank back into her bed. She still found it hard to believe it could be so warm this late in the year. In Oklahoma, it was usually cold in December. It rarely snowed on the plains, though at least once in her life she coul
d remember a white Christmas.

  Sand was as close as you could get to snow in Southern California, and she couldn’t even get close to the sand. Last year, they made sandcastles instead of snowmen. This Christmas would be different. Lauren knitted her brow, thinking about Christmas for the first time in days. She picked up her phone and opened the calendar. Christmas Eve was tomorrow. She hadn’t done any Christmas shopping, and her annual care packages of homemade cookies and peanut butter fudge would be missing from everyone’s stocking. She was fairly sure the crew would understand.

  * * *

  After lunch, Rowan left Lauren to do the only thing she could do, lie in bed, and surf the web. Meanwhile, he tidied up the house. He put the laundry into the dryer before he returned with his laptop, and camera. He stretched out beside her and set to work. He linked the camera to his laptop so he could download the video that’d been shot the last day in Mexico.

  “Did you get anything good?” Lauren asked, snuggling up next to him when he sat back to watch the footage. She took one of the earbuds from his ear and stuck it in her own.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think we did. Jean-René and Alejandro interviewed some of the local Maya that had come to Chichén Itzá in the hopes of welcoming their ancestors. We got underwater video from the cenote. There are literally hundreds of hours of video that needs to be reviewed.”

  “Plenty for me to do,” Lauren said. “What else?”

  “Well, there’s video from my body cam we need to look at. I didn’t get a chance to tell you about what happened.”

  Lauren listened to him tell the story. She was transfixed by his account. By the time he was finished, his hands were shaking. A mist of sweat had broken on his brow despite the cool air coming through the screen door. The skies had gone dark, despite the hour. A flash of lightning made him jump and a rumble of thunder echoed over the bay, leaving him even more shaken. She caught his hand. “Rowan, that’s unbelievable,” Lauren said. “But then again... I’ve seen stranger.”