It took everything Matt had not to sweep Jenny into his arms and hold her. Simply hold her. That’s what she needed. She needed someone to praise her. To tell her that she was a good person, capable of intelligent work. Stiffening his arms at his sides to make sure he didn’t do anything he might regret, he rumbled, “You bring all this out in me. It’s you.”
Chapter Four
Jenny tried to swallow her surprise as they stood in the office of Gringo Bill’s Hostel with the owner, Margerite Kaiser.
“You’re in room 35, Senor Williams. You and your wife will be on the top floor, with a complete view of the plaza, not to mention beautiful Machu Picchu.”
A short woman with a cloud of curly black hair, Margerite smiled as she lifted a key from the box on the wall, her brown eyes sparkling.
Jenny gulped. Wife? Was that what the woman had called her? Frantically, she searched her sleep-deprived brain for this detail of their mission, but came up empty. They had landed at Lima at 4:30 a.m. and caught the first flight out to Cuzco, at 5:20. From there they’d taken the Inca train down to Agua Caliente. Now, as she watched Matt lean over the desk and sign a fictitious name, she tried to recall if he or Morgan had mentioned they would be traveling as man and wife. All undercover agents went by fictitious names, but posing as Matt’s wife? And then Jenny remembered reading somewhere in the back of the report that Matt and she would pose as a couple, tourists from North America—Matt and Jenny Williams. She was no longer Jenny Wright, single woman from Montana.
“Thank you, Senora Kaiser,” Matt murmured, as he picked up the key. He turned and smiled down at Jenny. “Ready for our adventure, darling?”
Blinking belatedly, Jenny realized he was using that intimate, dark tone to speak to her. “Why, er…yes. Yes, I am, honey….”
“Sounds like you two need some sleep,” Marguerite chuckled. Looking at her watch, she said, “It’s 2:00 p.m. I suggest you take a nap. You’ll feel better after three hours or so of rest. And then when you get up, go over to India Feliz for dinner. It’s the best restaurant we have in Agua Caliente.”
Jenny thanked the warm hostess and headed out of the small office with Matt. The hostel was beautiful, in her opinion—three stories high and made from river rocks gathered from the mighty Urubamba River, which ran no more than a tenth of a mile from the main plaza, where Gringo Bill’s was located. Even here in the lobby she could hear the roar of the river as it splashed over huge granite and lava boulders littering its path. Walking from the train station, she had watched the wild, frothing water swirl and bubble around the behemoth boulders. Now, as she passed a stunning oval planter filled with jungle foliage and fragrant orchids in the center of the lobby, Jenny was glad she was here. There was high humidity at this time of day and she was perspiring freely. In Cuzco, Matt had taken her shopping for some loose cotton slacks and tops to replace her silk suit, which she had no business wearing in such a climate.
Climbing the cobbled stone stairs to the third floor, she noted the colorfully painted doors to the rooms, each a different hue. “This place reminds me of a rainbow,” she told Matt as they climbed steadily upward. Impulsively, Jenny skipped up ahead of him.
“This is a nice place,” he agreed. Balancing their two pieces of luggage in his hands, Matt watched her run up the stairs like a graceful deer. Her hair, although straight, responded to the high humidity. Soft strands curled around her brow and cheeks, giving her a girlish look. Her eyes sparkled like deep blue sapphires, and he found himself grinning. There was nothing to dislike about Jenny Wright. She was the diametric opposite of his ex-wife, who didn’t have a spontaneous bone in her body.
Hurrying down the concrete passageway and reading the numbers as she went, Jenny finally spotted room 35 at the very end. Opening the door, she stood aside as Matt brought the luggage into the spacious, carpeted, L-shaped room. As she closed it, her heart sank. There was one queen-size bed in the room, and that was it.
Standing there, she watched Matt place the luggage on the bed and begin to unzip his suitcase. “There’s only one bed,” she said lamely.
Matt nodded. “When you pose as a married couple, there’s usually only one bed.”
“Wh-what did you do in the past when your partner was a woman?” Morgan always paired a man and a woman on Perseus assignments. He’d found that the two usually complemented each other, both providing unique and necessary skills to the operation. Just because they worked together didn’t mean there was anything but a professional relationship between them, however. So how did they handle such a situation? Jenny wondered.
Her heart skittered at the thought of sleeping here, with Matt only inches away from her. She wasn’t afraid of him, of what he might do. She was afraid of what she might do to him during her sleep! Even in sleep, she was restless and always on the move.
Opening dresser drawers, Matt deposited all his clothes into them. “We slept on the same bed together. Why?”
Jenny moved over to her luggage and started filling dresser drawers on the opposite side of the room. “I just didn’t think about this ruse of being married…what it would entail.”
Giving her an amused look, Matt murmured, “Relax, you’re safe, Jenny. I’ll stay on my side of the bed, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He held up a pair of blue cotton pajamas. “I even brought pj’s, see? Normally, I sleep naked, but since you’re along, I thought I’d better dress for the occasion.”
Her eyes grew huge. She gulped. Matt decided to stop teasing her, and folded the pajamas into the bottom drawer.
“You wanted an undercover assignment. This is what it’s like,” he said, stuffing his empty canvas bag beneath the bed.
Busying herself, Jenny said, “Right…yes, of course, you’re right.” Her heart bounded. “I’m worried I might keep you up at night. I squirm in my sleep. I’m restless…I talk. Sometimes I sleepwalk…” She babbled as she quickly stuffed her three days’ worth of clothes into the drawers.
“We’ll work it out,” he soothed. Matt went to the banks of windows lining two sides of the room, all opened to allow in the fresh, clean air. Below them was the concrete plaza, a long, rectangular school topped with a Spanish-tile red roof on one side, a gray stone Catholic church on the other, and the Inka Pizza Restaurant anchoring the third. Up the wide main street, which was littered with touristas from around the world, brightly painted buildings were squeezed together in an unending line, and looked like boxcars hooked up to one another. Untying the thick, dark green curtains at the side of the windows, Matt drew them closed so that there was a modicum of darkness in the room.
“You’ve got to be tired,” he said. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he unlaced his Ecco hiking boots and nudged them off his large feet. Well-made boots indicated to anyone who recognized them that he was a serious climber and hiker. Rich touristas always wore them here in Peru. It was like wearing Gucci shoes in Italy.
Jenny turned and stood by the dresser, her arms wrapped around herself. “I guess I am,” she replied, studying him. Matt looked exhausted. She saw dark circles beneath his eyes and felt a twinge of worry for him. The flight had been long and stressful.
Matt finished removing his boots, placed his large, square hands on his thighs and looked over at her. “You guess? I’m ready to fall over. Come on, I’ll share the bed with you.” He lay down with a sigh, taking the space nearest the pale green stucco wall.
Chewing her lower lip, Jenny said, “Uh…you go ahead and sleep for a while, Matt. I’m a little too wired to try and rest right now.” She hurried over to the window and looked down at the plaza. School had just gotten out, and children of all ages, looking neat and clean in their blue-and-white school uniforms, were gathering to play soccer. Their laughter drifted upward, and she smiled faintly. She loved children.
“I’ll just go down to the plaza, Matt. If I stay up here, I’ll fritter around and drive you crazy, and you’ll never get to sleep.” She smiled as she saw a group of five-, six-and sev
en-year-olds beginning to choose teams for the game. Their mothers, all in colorful native costumes, sat on the steps of the school, knitting or crocheting as they kept a maternal eye on their children. A number of elderly people had gathered to watch the game, too. “There’re lots of benches all around the plaza. I’ll just sit down there on one of them. I’ve got to come down from this trip. I’ll watch the children and rest up that way.”
He closed his eyes. “Okay, have it your way. You got the room key?”
“Yes. Go to sleep. I’ll keep busy, don’t worry.” If the truth be known, Jenny was absolutely petrified of lying on that bed alongside Matt. She wasn’t sure what she’d do tonight, but right now, at least, she’d been granted a reprieve. Hurrying to the door, she picked up her purse, and her floppy, wide-brimmed straw hat, and left as quietly as she could. Relieved that Matt didn’t know why she was really leaving the room, she hurried down the three flights of stairs.
Gringo Bill’s sat on one corner of the main plaza. As she walked down the sloping street leading into the plaza, Jenny noted the sky was a pale blue with white puffs of clouds here and there. She spied a green bench on the sidelines near where the children were playing soccer, and hurried to it, breathing a sigh of relief.
Looking around, she saw the magnificent loaflike, black mountain of Machu Picchu, thrusting its mighty nose upward, to a height of ten thousand feet. The sides of the black basalt-and-granite peak were covered with greenery—thousands upon thousands of bromeliads and orchids. Agua Caliente sat at six thousand, Jenny knew. She was glad that she lived in Philipsburg, Montana, which was near that same altitude. It made it easier for her to breathe, acclimated as she was.
As she sat down on the bench, a woman in a brown felt hat with a dark umber grogram ribbon around the crown joined her. Though the woman was little more than five feet tall, she was big boned and strong-looking. Her oval face and high cheekbones shouted of her Inca heritage, as did her ebony hair, plaited into two thick braids. She wore a red blouse embroidered with bright flowers and a well-worn, dark brown alpaca cardigan with white llamas on it. As she smiled and nodded deferentially in Jenny’s direction, Jenny noticed that her front two upper teeth were missing.
Jenny smiled and said hello in Spanish. The woman brightened. In her hands were several colorful, hand-knit alpaca sweaters, obviously for sale. At her side was a little boy about four years old—too young for school—holding on to his mother’s dark blue cotton skirt.
“Hola,” Jenny said warmly to him. She dug in her pants pocket. Matt had bought a couple bags of hard candy in Cuzco, explaining that the local children loved getting candy from the tourists. Producing a gold-wrapped piece of candy, she asked the woman if she could give it to her little one.
“Sí, sí, señorita.” The woman glowed and bowed her head, thanking Jenny effusively.
“Bueno, good,” Jenny said, and handed the candy to the shy little tyke. His dark brown hand reached out, his black, buttonlike eyes riveted on her hair. Jenny figured he probably hadn’t seen many blond-haired people down here, sure Indians comprised the bulk of the population of Peru, with their black hair and darker coloring.
“Tank u…”
Surprised that he spoke English, she smiled at the mother. “Habla inglés? Do you speak English?”
“A little,” the woman said proudly.
“Wonderful. Bueno! I’m Jenny. And you are?” she asked the woman.
“Maria.” She looked fondly at her little boy, who had now inched forward and was sucking furiously on the piece of hard candy. “And this is Daniel, my son.”
Leaning down, Jenny smiled into the child’s bright, curious eyes. “Hola, Daniel.” She put her hand out to him. “Nice to meet you.”
He stuck out his sticky hand, his fingers small and fine. Jenny gently shook it and released it.
“Here, señorita,” Maria produced a clean damp cloth from her skirt pocket. “Your hand, eh?”
Thanking her, Jenny wiped her sweet, sticky fingers off. “It’s my fault. I gave him the candy.”
“Señorita,” Maria pleaded as she brought her merchandise forward, “would you like to buy one of my fine alpaca sweaters? I knit each by hand.”
Jenny watched as the woman carefully laid out the exquisite hand-knit sweaters before her. “They’re all so beautiful, Senora Maria.” And soft, she thought as she ran her fingers lingeringly across the fuzzy, brightly dyed wool.
“You would look very pretty in this one,” the Peruvian woman said shyly, avoiding her eyes. “The colors go with your Inti hair.”
“Inti?”
“Si. Inti is our sun god. Your hair is the color of him,” she said, pointing upward toward the mountains, where the sun had just disappeared. “Gold hair. It is truly beautiful.”
Seeing the woman’s wistful expression, Jenny smiled. “I think black hair is beautiful, too.” She reached down and sifted her fingers through Daniel’s short, neatly cut hair. One thing for sure, the Peruvian people were proud of their children. Nowhere in the plaza, which was hopping with life, did she see one child with dirty clothes or a dirty face. Their clothes were clean, if threadbare, and their faces had been scrubbed until they shone like polished mahogany. There were no runny noses, no matted eyelashes or dirty, unkempt hair. Matt had told her that although Peru was considered a third-world nation, the people were very progressive. They thought everything of their children and family. Cleanliness was obviously a priority.
Daniel shyly opened his hand toward her after he finished the piece of candy, to ask for more.
“Another?” she laughed, and looked to his mother for permission. Maria smiled fondly at her son and nodded.
“He is the last of our babies,” she told Jenny sadly. “My other two babies, they die. The water. It is no good.” She patted Daniel’s head gently, her eyes holding a worried look.
Heart cringing, Jenny sat stunned. “The water?”
“Sí, señorita. Here, we have no good water. They tell us to boil it. But my other two children, both older than Daniel, they drank from the river.” She closed her eyes and wiped the tears from the corners. “I begged them to always drink the water I had boiled. But they did not listen. Now…” she sniffed “…they are gone. I pray to Inti daily to watch over Daniel. That the poison water of the river does not take him, too.”
“Oh, dear…” Jenny reached out and patted the woman’s hand. Maria was in her early thirties, but already the hardness of her life had left her oval face lined and stressed. “I’m so sorry, Maria. I truly am.” If she’d lost two of her children, Jenny was sure she’d look as tired and sad as Maria—or worse. How could the woman go on after such a loss?
“We need wells drilled here,” Maria confided in a broken tone. “Wells, they say, will give us clean, safe water. And we are so poor…. But it would save our children’s lives. I wish we had the money to make these wells….”
Anguished, Jenny sat there in silence. Daniel, who had now lost much of his shyness, climbed up into her lap to rest his head against her left shoulder, his eyes turned upward to look more closely at her golden hair. As she rocked the boy in her arms, Jenny couldn’t fathom losing someone as beautiful and cute as Daniel. Looking at Maria’s grief-stricken eyes, she felt her heart quiver with sadness for the woman.
“Well,” she murmured gently as she reached out with her free hand and patted the knitwear, “I really need sweaters, señora. I have a good friend back home who would love one. And I certainly need one!”
Instantly, Maria’s eyes lit up. “Yes? Two sweaters, señorita?”
“These are all sweaters for women. Do you knit any for men? I have a very dear friend who is muy grande, very large. Do you have any big ones?”
“Sí, sí, señorita, I do. But they are at my home.” She pointed up the concrete street leading from one side of the plaza.
Jenny smiled. “Why don’t we walk to your house? I would love to see all the sweaters you’ve knitted. They’re so beautiful. I’d lo
ve to buy at least three.” In the back of her mind, Jenny thought that Maria could use the money. She saw that her leather shoes were thin and full of holes. Although they were clean and polished, they were well past their prime.
“Sí, señorita!” Maria got up and gathered all her sweaters, carefully placing each into a bag before she slung it across her shoulder. She called to Daniel to climb down, but the little boy shook his head.
Laughing, Jenny rose and straddled Daniel’s legs across her left hip, her arm around him. “I’ll carry him, señora. Don’t worry.”
“You are sure, señorita?”
Jenny patted the woman’s shoulder. Maria was shorter than she was, but strong and firm from all the work she did. “I’m very sure. Let’s go! I’m excited to see all your sweaters.”
Matt awoke with a jerk. It was nearly dark. What time was it? He groaned and rolled over onto his side. Uncovering the black nylon flap across his chronograph watch, he saw it was 1800, or 6:00 p.m.
The door opened, creaking and squealing in protest. He sat up, his eyes narrowing. It was Jenny. Her arms were loaded with goods, he saw, as she turned and nudged the door shut with the toe of her boot.
“I see I can’t leave you by yourself. You’ll buy out Agua Caliente,” he observed in a gravelly tone.
Jenny jumped. She let out a little gasp. She hadn’t expected Matt to be up, and was trying to be quiet about entering the room. Nearly spilling her cargo, she brought the plastic bags over to the bed where he was sitting.
Laughing breathily, she said, “I’m going to turn the light on. You have to see the gorgeous, hand-knitted alpaca sweaters I just bought. And what bargain prices!”
Matt smiled a little as she bounded effortlessly back to the door and turned on the overhead light. He rubbed his eyes and felt the sleep easing from him. Jenny sat on the other side of the pile of plastic bags and quickly began pulling out the sweaters for him to look at.
“You never told me we could get beautiful alpaca sweaters down here, Matt. Look!” She held up a dark burgundy one with red, pink and orange hibiscus against a dark green, leafy background. “This is for Laura. Isn’t it breathtaking? Do you think she’ll like it?”
Woman of Innocence Page 5
