The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series)

by Calinda B

  “Yes, that would be fine.”

  I thank him and wander away. Sober and I take a moment to scope out the terrain. My dog seems quite happy here. There are other dogs here to play with. In Seattle, I had to crate him a lot while I was out or at work. It’s more natural for him to just be here and be a dog. I’m going to like living here - as soon as I can purge the memories of being brought here under abduction. Restoring this place to a productive plantation run in a caring manner will help that process, I’m sure.

  The plantation is a beautiful display of green, leading up to hillsides and jungle. Insects hum, monkeys chatter, and an abundance of birds flit about, vocalizing their activities. The scent of flowers, coffee, and fecund soil titillates my nose. I stroll through trees and forest. Manicured lawns. Rows and rows of coffee bean trees. Red soil that stains the bottoms of my feet when I walk barefoot. I can’t believe this is mine. All mine.

  An hour later, Carlos, Sober Dober, and I are trundling along in his Chevy pick-up truck. The truck is a fully restored, red and white gleaming beauty. I can tell Carlos is proud of his vehicle.

  “Did you restore this truck yourself?”

  He beams. “Me and my sons did it. She’s a beauty, no?”

  “She is. Very beautiful.” I brush a hand across the seat. Carlos has done a detailed job on the vehicle. I am fortunate to have someone in my employ who takes such good care of his things.

  We chat idly for a half hour as we make our way along the bumpy dirt road to the place where he is to pick up his wife. We trek deeper and deeper into the jungle until the road is barely serviceable. We finally come to a stop outside of a small round building with a thatched roof. The home sits atop stilts and appears to be quite old. It backs up to the jungle. Carlos pulls on the parking break, and we exit the truck.

  “Wait here,” he says to me in a tremulous voice.

  “I’m just going to look around,” I answer. I glance over to him. His face appears strained and taut. “I won’t go up to the house, I promise.” He seems to relax. I wander through a small garden, abundant with veggies. The sounds of a nearby waterfall greet my ears. This place is relaxing, harmonious, and soothing. As I am beginning to grow accustomed to the jungle fauna chatter, squawk, buzz, and hum. I make my way behind the house and find the source of the waterfall sound. There is a small brook tumbling over rocks and falling several feet into the stream below. I love waterfalls. To me, they are pure magic. I pause, listening, soaking in the simple allure of coursing water.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the frail movement of a small woman. That must be Carlos’ wife. I turn my head in the other direction and come face to face with one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She’s wearing a long simple skirt and a short sleeved top. Her feet are bare. Her long dark hair flows down past her shoulders. Her face is lightly marked with age. She must be in her late forties but she moves as one who is much younger. Brilliant blue eyes sparkle out of her nut brown face. Her eyes are old, wise, and full of sorrow. Her gaze meets mine, surprised, wary, afraid, assertive.

  “Who are you?” she challenges. “What are you doing in my forest?”

  “I’m…I’m Marissa Engles,” I state, and I boldly extend my hand, forgetting about my electrical handshake for a moment.

  She hesitates before taking my proffered hand lightly in her own. When we touch, her eyebrows lift and she looks me in the eyes. “You…you’re the one…”

  She looks like someone I should know. Her eyes look like… “I’m the one who?”

  “You can’t be here,” she hisses. “Go!”

  “I’m sorry. You must be the oracionista. Please let me apologize. I know you don’t want to be seen. I know you don’t want to be…” I stop babbling and study her face. There’s a familiarity there. The features are similar to someone I know. My fingers fly to my mouth. I pry them away and say, “You’re Daniel’s mother!”

  “You can’t know this. You mustn’t tell a soul. Please…” She grabs my hand. Her eyes are pleading, desperate. “You’re the one I’ve heard of. You’re the one who has mated with my boy.” Tears fill her eyes.

  “I…I…we’re together, yes. Or we were until he threw himself into the darkness.”

  She glances right and left as if I’ve said something evil. “There are spirits in this world who are dark beyond belief,” she whispers. “My son, he commands them. He is the only one who wields such power.” She crosses herself as if she has spoken evil.

  Chills ripple up and down my spine. “Yes,” I say. “How is it that you’re here? Your husband…Armando…he’s looking for me. He’s somewhere in the area. He wants to hurt me to get to Daniel.”

  Her brown eyes grow cold. “You can’t speak of that man. Do not speak his name in my presence. Speaking his name will call him to me. He has bound our souls. I can never be unbound from him. I can only hide, throughout time until, unless…” Her words break off into a sob. “Go! Get away from here! Do not speak of our meeting to anyone. Not even to Daniel. You must not. My husband can’t know that I’m here.” She pauses. Her eyes appear huge and wild in an otherworldly way. The blue of her eyes glows as if she’s from another planet.

  Who or what the hell is this family I am now a part of?

  “I will die to protect my son, do you hear me? I will give myself over to death until my soul bound husband finds me again. Now go!” She raises a hand and points toward Carlos’ truck.

  Is this what I have to look forward to with Daniel? No one can claim me in such a manner, I think defiantly. “I…what can I do to help you?” I stammer.

  “There is nothing anyone can do. You can kill Armando. You can harm him. It does not matter.” Her voice softens, and she clutches both my hands. “You are a powerful woman, Light Rebel. Go and take care of him. Take care of my boy. He cannot undo what his father has done.”

  How does everyone know who I am? And what the hell is she talking about?

  “My son was wise to bind with you.”

  “Was he?” I spit out the words before I can edit myself. “He didn’t ask for my permission.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “That cannot be. That cannot happen. Bad things can happen if one binds the soul to another whom he has not gained permission from.” She backs away from me. Her hands fly to her mouth. “My son! He has put himself in harm’s way. My foolish, foolish son!” She takes another step backwards. “Go! I must consult with the oracles. I must find a way to undo what my son has brought upon himself. Go!”

  Shaken, I step away from her.

  “Miss Engles!” Carlos calls. “We must go!’

  I’ll say. Without a second glance, I race away from Gabriela Catalina Padilla-Navid, the mother of my “shouldn’t have done it” soul bound lover.

  Chapter 19

  I’m exhausted, hungry, and confused. Meeting Daniel’s mother and hearing her revelations about the soul binding has unnerved me to no end. And I’ve had a busy afternoon. I met Rosa, Carlos’ lovely wife, arranged for medical care at my expense since I’m now quite wealthy having inherited El Demonio’s wealth, and enjoyed coffee and conversation with the couple and their family before taking my leave. When I arrive back at the plantation, night has fallen. As we pull up to the house, the sun has fallen from the Brazilian sky, leaving a faint wash of color in the darkening heavens. I hop out of the truck and bid farewell to Carlos’ oldest son, Marco. “See you,” I say with a wave.

  “Adeus,” he says with a smile and drives away.

  I enter the house to be welcomed by fragrant smells. Fish. Vegetables. Bread. My stomach begins to mewl like a newborn baby. Saliva fills my mouth. I wander into the kitchen to find the table has been set for two. Candles glow softly in the center of the table. Plates, silverware, water glasses, and wine glasses have been artfully arranged.

  Rafe strides out of the kitchen, a white apron tied about his waist. “You’re home!”

  I appraise his attire. There’s something about a muscular man wearing an apron th
at’s both sexy and comical. I smile at him. “I am. I’m also famished.”

  “Sit. The girls and I have worked all afternoon to prepare your supper.”

  “Did you?” I say suspiciously. Maybe one of them was his conquest for the day. “You seem relaxed. Did you, um, take care of your needs?”

  He doesn’t answer. “Here,” he says, pulling out my chair.

  I’m too tired to protest or raise a fuss at his non-answer redirect. “Thanks. What’s for dinner?”

  “Local fare, artfully prepared.”

  “By the staff?”

  “By me!” Rafe look as excited as a school boy bringing home his first frog. “I’ve never had anyone to cook for. I learned to cook around the world. Wherever I’ve been sent on assignment, I’ve learned to cook what the culture dictates. After the job was done,” he adds.

  “I can’t wait,” I say with a wan smile. “Thank you.”

  We proceed to dine on an array of exotic, artfully prepared dishes. After we’ve finished, I push away from the table. “This was fantastic, Rafe. I had no idea that you could cook so well. You’re an amazing cook.” I reach for my glass of wine and pour the remains down my throat. “So, seriously,” I begin. “This is what can happen if your needs are met? I’m going to send you off more often,” I say, benevolent and pleased with my generous attitude.

  “Right,” Rafe says, his eyes darting away from me.

  “No more withdrawal episodes today?” I ask.

  “Only a couple, and I dealt with them,” he answers evasively. “Amalia,” he calls, once more steering the conversation away from this topic. “Por favor limpar a mesa.”

  “What did you ask her?”

  “I asked her to clear the table. Would you like dessert?”

  “I’m stuffed. And super tired. What I really want is to take a long soak and to go to bed.”

  He seems pleased, like this was the correct answer.

  When Amalia hustles from the kitchen, he jabbers to her in Portuguese, and she commences with the dining clean up.

  “Come,” he says to me. “Amalia told me there is a huge soaking tub that El D used to use. The staff has scrubbed it for your arrival and smudged the area clean with incense and jungle herbs. They have cast the evil spirits out. You will find it quite hospitable.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “What will you do while I’m bathing?” I ask.

  “Wander around. Go to my room. I’ll find something to do.”

  “You’re not going to try to take a soak with me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No.”

  “Then, no. I told you, I’ll find something to do.”

  “Whatever you did while we were apart has sure put you in a good mood.”

  “It did,” he says. “Let’s go.”

  “Why are you avoiding my queries?”

  “Let me show you to your bath. I’ll explain in the morning.”

  “We’re not sleeping together like we did last night.”

  “Fine,” he says with exasperation. “I know that. Amalia has already shown me my room.”

  “Did she give you a private tour? I thought she was not one you wanted to mess with?”

  “My dear jealous Light Rebel, I can assure you that I have only been on a strict friendship basis with Amalia, Renata, Carlita, and Carmelita today. My hands have only conveyed kindness and propriety to the staff here.”

  “So who did you do? Someone in the field?”

  “I don’t want to discuss it. Now let’s see to your bath.”

  He guides me to a room at the back of the house. “I’d rather not sleep in the room I was brought to when I was kidnapped,” I say before stepping through the doorway.

  “Already anticipated and dealt with. That room has been completely redone, smudged, and purified. But that is not the room you’ll call your own. Alexander had a room specifically prepared for you that no one has ever slept in. The staff was instructed to keep it clean and well-maintained until it became yours. They have done their job. You’ll see.”

  He holds open the door to a small outdoor pool, sunk into a stone terrace. The tub is the perfect size for two and could hold four if needed. The water is steaming and fragrant. The area is softly lit with candles. The candle light illuminates the greenery creating a soft, inviting environment. It’s fun having staff who anticipate my every need.

  “Oh, my!” I exclaim. “This is beautiful!”

  “It was designed specifically for you.”

  “Really,” I say with a frown. So much was done on my behalf without my knowledge. This seems to be the story of my life.

  “Really. Now enjoy. I’ll see you…” Rafe hesitates. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s what?” He looks confused.

  “You’re just going to walk away?”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’m suspicious.”

  A quiet laugh bubbles up from his throat. He’s got a beautiful laugh. I wonder if he knows that. I tread towards the hot tub, kick off my sandals and let the toes of one foot dangle in the water. “Heavenly.”

  “Just enjoy yourself. Stop being so suspicious, and have a good soak.” He swiftly departs and leaves me to my own devices.

  Something’s up with him, I think before letting my cares float away. I unzip and let my dress slide down my body. I push my panties to the stones. Naked, I ease into the warm water. “Ahhh. This feels really good. I think I’m going to like living here. I can soak here whenever I want to? Pure bliss.” My eyes take in the flowers, bushes, and small trees lining the pool. The sky looms overhead, sparkling with stars. Daniel? Are you there? There’s no reply. I hope you’re well, I add, just in case he’s listening.

  I soak until my skin is pickled, wrinkled like a prune. Sated, soaked, and happy, I exit the pool.

  On cue, Amalia softly knocks on the door and calls my name. “Miss Engles?”

  “Yes?”

  She enters, holding a large, fluffy white towel. Her eyes avert as she approaches me. “Mr. Rafe. He teaches me. Words. Some words. Please.” She extends the towel in my direction, turning her head away from me.

  I wrap it around my body and step from the tub. “I’m so relaxed,” I say to her.

  She shakes her head.

  “Me.” I tap my chest. “Relaxed.” I press my palms together, hold them next to my face and close my eyes.

  Amalia laughs. “Ah. Sí. Dormir.” She holds her palms next to her head. “Come.” She extends her hand, and I let her lead me from this splendid oasis.

  She leads me upstairs, past the room I woke up in when I was abducted, down the hall and up another flight of stairs. At the top of the landing I find myself in a completely open-aired bedroom. My jaw drops as I take it in. Three stone walls enclose the huge bed. A half ceiling stands over the bed. The four poster bed is draped with a sheer white canopy. Candles glow on small, dark wood stands on either side of the bed. A gecko darts long the wall, chirping. The room is simple, elegant, and beautiful. It looks exactly like something I would have designed.

  Amalia bids me goodnight, says something else in Portuguese, and I am left alone. Sober’s toenails clack up the tiled stairs announcing his arrival.

  “And where have you been all day?” I ask him. “What do you think, Sober? Do you approve?”

  He wags his tail and seeks out a small pad of blankets, no doubt arranged for his slumber.

  “What, you’ve already scoped it out?” I part the canopy and collapse on the bed, fingering the light, soft coverings. Everything on the bed has the feel of a soft, downy nest in which to dream. I can see the stars from this vantage point. I can gaze out into the forest, too. For some reason I feel safe, held, protected in this room. Perhaps it’s the work of the staff. Perhaps it was intended to be this way. Perhaps it’s just me.

  As the quiet hum of the night forest provides a backdrop of sound, I drift into an exhausted s
lumber, thankful to be far, far away from the Bellevue nut house.

  “Marissa.”

  Eyes closed, I mumble. “Go away, whoever you are. I’m sleeping.”

  “Yes, you are indeed very much asleep.”

  “What?” I awaken or I think I awaken to a weird world. I’m still in my bed nestled in the tree tops, but it’s hazy up here. I seem to be looking through warped glass, much like when Rafe tucked me inside his invisible world. “Where am I?”

  “You’re safe. You’re in the crack between night and day, between light and dark.”

  “Rafe?” I look over to see him sitting cross-legged at the edge of the landing. I blink and rub my eyes. Even Rafe looks hazy.

  This is a new Rafe sitting across from me. I’ve never met this Rafe. His face looks youthful, innocent, and even sweet. He appears relaxed, joyful even. “How do you like it?”

  “Like what?”

  “This.” He sweeps his arms in front of him. “This is my world.”

  “It looks much like my world,” I say, confused.

  “It’s not. Step out of your canopy.”

  I push aside the delicate fabric and see that nothing is beneath the bed. My bed is suspended in space. “Whoa. How can this be? There’s no stone beneath me.”

  “There doesn’t need to be. We’re in a place that doesn’t really exist. And,” he says, smoothly rising to his feet. “If this place doesn’t really exist, we can do whatever we want because nothing matters here.”

  I glare at him. “Just what, exactly, are you proposing?”

  “My, my, you are quite the suspicious vixen. I’m just trying to explain that there are no rules here.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” I pull the covers over my lap as I peer over the edge of the bed into space. I can still hear the quiet chirps of the forest only they sound like they’re warped, too. I look for Sober. He looks like a cartoon dog, deep in sleep. His body is extended and huge. He’s got a giant barrel chest, a bulging tummy, and a tiny head.

  “You’re just seeing your dog’s dream self.”

  “Why is his chest and belly so big?”

  “We fed him well tonight. He’s probably dreaming of his dinner.”