“Guatemala.” He says. “My sister helps out with an orphanage there and I’m going to help out for a bit.”
“That’s really nice of you.” I say. “Whereabouts?”
“I’ve never been there, but it’s in Sololá, over by latke Atitlán.”
“That’s where I’m headed.” I say with a smile, extending my hand. “Natalie.”
“Carl, but people call me Riff.” He says.
“Des, then.” I say.
The flight attendant taps my shoulder and hands me a little plastic cup of ice, followed by two bottles. “You look like a double is in order.”
Just as I take them, the fasten seatbelt sign comes on again and I hear the door up front being sealed. “Things are looking up already.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Friday Morning - Reed
The sun is creeping up, bringing the light of the new day. At some point, we went through the lock at Sault Saint. Marie and this is certainly better than the last time. I know there’s still a long way to go and I could be discovered as a stowaway at any time, but the wind and the sun are making me happy, as well as the thought of Des.
The gulls are investigating, and I hope that they don’t give me away, but the sound is one of a refreshing freedom, like nothing I’ve felt in a while. It reminds me of growing up, but those California summers seem like they’re a million years away. I need to scout out a better hiding spot, but I’m just laying here, enjoying watching the clouds pass by, moving even faster than they should, because they’re headed West as I’m moving East.
When I finally do rouse myself, I unfortunately don’t find a container that’s unlocked. I don’t want to venture too far, especially out into the open where I might be seen by stray eyes on the bridge. Hell, if I can just hold off for a day or so until we make it to open water, they’re not going to stop to kick me off.
Making another check down an aisle I didn’t remember being down, I turn a corner and almost run into a young woman. She looks just as surprised as me, but doesn’t cry out.
I try to say something, but my words seem lost on me, so I switch to Spanish.
“Where are we going?” I ask, knowing I can at least get my point across.
“Belize.” She says. “You in trouble?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “You can kind of say that.”
She’s pretty, and her dark eyes look me up and down. I don’t get the vibe that she’s checking out anything but my trustworthiness, though. I seem to pass.
“Where are you going?” She asks.
“Guatemala.” I say. She smiles, so I decide to add to it. “I’m trying to get to the woman I love there.”
Those eyes soften a little more. “You’ll have to tell me the story.” She says. “Later. After dark. Here.” She punctuates the words slowly and it tells me that my Spanish is probably rustier than I thought, since she feels the need to make them clear and simple. I just nod and she gives me one more smile before going along again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Friday Afternoon – Des
The layover in Houston about killed the last nerve that I had left. My expectations of the FBI rounding me up again didn’t die until now, standing at the roundabout outside of the Guatemala City airport with Riff.
We had spent the night talking, and I think I gave him just enough information to know where I was, even though he didn’t know the details. I’m just about to give him a hug and say my goodbyes when a car pulls up, smoke rolling out the windows. The smell makes me grin. It’s a whole different world down here, Des.
Riff opens the back door and I see laughing from where I stand at the curb as he talks to the passengers, but I also see them all scooting over to the far side of the seat as he climbs in, tossing his backpack into the back of the old station wagon.
“C’mon, Des.” He says. “No better cover than a car full of stoner ex-pats. At least ride with us down to the bus terminal.”
I laugh and I climb in, watching the eyes on me, but they’re all smiling.
“Riff’s got a girlfriend.” One of them says.
“No, but she’s cool. She’s a secret agent or something.” They all laugh as we pull away, the car weaving perilously through the streets, honking all the way.
I think I have a contact high by the time we reach the bus depot, but it’s actually the happiest I’ve felt outside of Reed’s arms in weeks and I thank the motely band as the two of us take our leave.
“You’re stuck with me, Des.” Riff says, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Elizabeta is the only bus that goes to Atitlán.”
“I couldn’t think of a better companion.” I say, looking at the school bus he’s pointing out. Structurally, it’s a good old American school bus; aside from the paint job that puts the standard orange to shame and the luggage rails installed on top. The miasma of life I see stepping on board both astounds me and makes me smile at the same time. People from young Americans in ties to woman in traditional garb are only the beginning. Riff slides into the seat next to me.
“So.” He says. “If you need a place to stay, I can probably hook you up.”
“I’d like that, Riff.” I say. “A fresh start sounds so good right now.”
___
The country is simply beautiful. Trees, mountains, everything I’ve missed living in the city. It’s a far cry from home, but the hope is that home will be here soon. Reed is home, and I can only hope he feels the same way.
As far as the ride goes, it’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. The driver peels around the mountainous turns at perilous speeds while his ‘assistant’ of sorts hangs out of the front door, peering around the corner to warn of oncoming traffic, though there’s not a lot of that. My hand is sore from clutching the seatback for almost the entire duration of the multiple-hour journey. Riff has apparently done this before, because he’s simply sitting there, casually reading a book.
“Relax, Des.” He says, quietly.
It makes me laugh, but I do. A little. Focus on the beauty, Des, I tell myself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Reed
I’ve been on board a few days now, but they all seem to be rolling together. There’s a skeleton crew aboard, though the only ones I’ve met are in Blanca’s group. They’ve basically taken me in, partly in spite to their employers, but I’d like to think because they like me. My Spanish isn’t perfect, but they’re helping me with what English they have, and the story I’ve told them over the course of the last few nights has been mostly true. Regardless, they’ve been enthralled, and it makes me laugh when I hear the younger girls talk about the bravery of ‘Señora Des.’ Honestly, though, their admiration is no greater than my own. I went in there to save her life and she ended up saving mine. The most painful part is not knowing; I can only have faith that she’ll be there when I arrive. Unfortunately, I’ll have to live with the doubt for another week, at least.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Des
I’m thinking about him most of the day, but at least I have some distractions to keep me going. Riff’s sister, Claudia, embraced me not just physically, but personally. I’m sharing her room in the little complex that belongs to the orphanage, but she says even that may change once some of the visiting missionaries fly back to the states in a few days. Every morning, I stand at the railing of the balcony, looking down the dizzying heights to the lake below, the impressive spires of the lake’s remaining volcanoes in the background, the town I know now to be Panajachel sitting quietly on the lakeside hundreds of feet below. I can almost imagine him there, and I know that I need to open up to Claudia more about it. I don’t know how I’ll find him, but I believe in my heart that he’ll be down there.
Right now, though, I’m working with the kids, and it makes my heart happy. I never gave much consideration to having any of my own, but the exposure is like a contagious disease working its way into my heart. The joy at such simple things as this, snack time, make me wonder at how spoiled I’ve been all
my life.
“Señora Des, Señora Des.” It’s Keyrin. She’s about seven and always brings me a smile, tugging at my arm every time I’m around. My Spanish is growing, but the language barrier only seems to make her more interested in communicating with me. I can’t follow what she’s excitedly saying, but her excitement is spreading to me.
“She got a sponsor.” Claudia says, walking through the room, a baby no more than a month old cradled in her arms.
“What does that mean?” I ask, trying to calm the cute little beauty at my side.
“She gets to go to school.”
It makes me smile, and I throw my arms around the pretty little thing. She buries her head in my shoulder and I feel the tears coming. It hurts more because it’s a thing that most of us take for granted.
She whispers something in my ear, and I don’t get all of it, but the gist is that if she can go to school, she’ll be more likely to find a family that wants her. It starts the tears rolling even more.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Reed
It’s been almost two weeks since the last night that I saw her, but that face is still crystal clear in my mind’s eye. With a little help from my newfound friends, I’ve made it through Belize and into Guatemala. The hitchhiking has been going well, and I’m almost there. The bulk of the money I took went into the bank, well, several banks to avoid too much scrutiny. The rest ended up with Blanca and the crew that I left behind.
I’ve got about two hundred dollars in Quetzals in my pocket, which should take me the rest of the way and get me a place to stay. All I can think about is getting there. I can only hope that she made it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Des
A group of the ladies and I are riding in the back of a pickup truck down the road to Panajachel. Normally, we’d be standing, holding onto the framed pipes that allow them to get fifteen or more riders in the tiny bed on busier days; today we get to sit, in what I’m becoming used to as style.
Claudia listened to my story, though I sense a little bit of doubt in her and I don’t really blame her at all. The pale gringa with the red hair is probably the discussion amongst everyone, but I’m not letting it bother me. Speaking of the red hair, I’ve let it go. It’s not like I can find a decent straightening iron, anyway, but the kids, especially the little girls at the orphanage, love it.
I do feel welcomed, though, and I feel better about the long hard days of work than I did about anything I’ve ever done before, including my brief stint with the FBI. Claudia even arranged to have me join the little group I’m in now, picking up supplies, some purchased, some donated to the orphanage. We go down the mountain once every day or so, and I find a moment to myself to go down to the lakefront restaurant that Reed had gone on and on about as we sat on his couch, falling in love despite ourselves.
Today’s no different, and I feel like I’ll be doing this forever if he never makes it; holding out the hope that will always be in my heart.
The ride back up the hill feels like I’m going the wrong direction, but the little life I’m forging for myself down here is nice.
“Señora Des!” Keyrin grabs my arm as soon as I clamber out of the bed of the pickup truck.
I half expect her to tell me there’s a strange man here to see me, but I’m happy to congratulate her on the little backpack and school books she shows me.
“I’m so happy for you, Keyrin.” I say. I’m about to take her in my arms for a hug I need probably more than she does when she stands back, posing.
“And new shoes as well.” I say, and she comes in to me. I can feel her heart beating against mine and as she pulls away, she looks at me. One of her hands comes up to my cheek, wiping away a tear.
“Cadejo Blanca will bring him to you.” She whispers in my ear, then kisses my cheek before she runs off. I don’t know the reference, so I’ll have to remember to ask Claudia.
___
“Cadejo Blanco.” Claudia had told me, correcting Keyrin a little, and I’m thinking of the story on the way down the hill once again. He’s a white dog, a spirit animal that appears to travelers at night. The thought comforts me, but she had told me as well about the black version, who leads travelers astray.
“Maybe today is the day.” Luz offers, smiling at me. I smile back.
“Maybe.” I say, putting my hand on hers.
She makes the sign of the cross as we pull into town. I can only imagine the talk about the poor lonely lady that visits the town every day to look for her long-lost love. Certainly a new sad legend in the making. We are working on some of the transactions when Luz waves me off. “Go. Go check.”
I walk past the vendor stalls on the way to the lakeside restaurant, smiling and talking to some of the girls, none past ten, that are hawking their wares on the streets. If I had been able to drag more of my savings out of my account, I would have loved to have helped them all. As it was, I had what was remaining of the two daily ATM withdrawal limits I had pulled when leaving the states; one while still at the Milwaukee airport, the other the moment we set down in Houston. My accounts had apparently been frozen by the time Riff and I arrived in Guatemala City. Even that was rapidly dwindling, though it would have been a fortune to most around here.
I’m humming The Beach Boys, though it’s not perfectly right. I don’t sing ‘California boys’ in my head, but the thought is there. The wind is playing on the tangle of my hair as I pass the last buildings blocking my view of the restaurant veranda. I have to keep my eyes on the cobblestones through a rough patch; it’s a game I play most times to stave off my disappointment.
As my eyes come up, there’s a figure on the edge of the veranda, a beer in one hands, a pair of dusty boots kicked up on the railing, talking to the server. She looks up, then points in my direction as if answering his question. The head turns.
The tears are pouring from my face like a sieve as he stands, taking off a weather-beaten hat, letting those blonde locks shine through. They’re longer than I remember. Somehow, through everything I’ve been through at the FBI office, the journey here, and the intervening weeks; this moment freezes me in my tracks and I feel like I’m going to fall to the ground.
I can’t even speak to him as he bounds over the rail and crosses the short gap between us in just a few strides, taking me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest as he wraps one of those strong hands in my hair, pulling me into him. He smells like dust and sweat, but I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
___
Apparently, Reed’s doing a little better on money than I am, because the hotel room looks like a mansion to my more culturally-attuned eyes. The ladies had practically fallen all over him, making me laugh. I honestly think they all felt like they’d just met some sort of mythical creature, like something out of a fairy tale. I asked them to tell Claudia, and that I would be back at the orphanage as soon as I could. There was lots of clucking and giggling.
He’s just finishing locking the door behind us. We’ve spoken about twenty words since we were reunited. Just nothing I think of to say seems right; it all seems forced or awkward. I’m just staring at the relative opulence of the room like I’m seeing something I’ve only dreamed about. It makes me realize the change that’s come over me. The feeling of his arms wrapping around my waist is like home; his lips on the nape of my neck sending chills down my spine as I press myself back into his body.
I tilt my head as far as I can to the side, just feeling that sweet sensation, listening to the soft sound of his breath on my skin. “I knew you’d come.” I say.
“I’ll always come for you.” He says, turning me, his lips searching out mine. The kiss is gentle and warm.
“Shower.” I say, breaking the kiss.
Reed laughs. “Sorry, I just got here.”
I follow him into the bathroom and watch him as he starts the shower, testing the water with his hands. As he starts to unbutton his shirt, I push myself from where I’ve been leaning on the counter,
replacing them with my own.
“Don’t ever leave me again, Des.” He says as I work my way down his buttons.
“You know you don’t know me all that well.” I say, smirking as I see that beautiful chest come into view.
“Oh, really.” He says, grinning. He grabs both of my hands and steps back, pulling me into the shower stall with him. “Let’s work on that, Miss Desjardins.”
He silences my squawk of protest with his lips as I feel the hot water, and the happiness, sink into my skin. I pull the sopping shirt down over his arms and hear the wet squish as it hits the tiles. I pull my own shirt up over my head and his lips are right back in their place the moment it clears my hair. His hands are behind me, and I giggle as I feel him realize it’s a sports-bra. This time, it’s him dragging it off over my head. Okay, it’s a little bit awkward, but the dance we have to extract ourselves from the rest of our clothes makes both of us laugh, and it’s the medicine I’ve been needing for so long.
My hands are all over his body and his response to my touch is electric and immediate. I wrap my hand around him, resulting in a groan as his lips pull away from mine. “Hopefully you handle this gun a little better.” I say, letting it go and dashing out of the shower. I really think it takes him a moment to get the reference, but he’s laughing as he chases me to the bed, his hands grabbing me by the hips just as I’m about to scramble off the far side of the bed.
“You brute.” I coo, giving him my best Southern Belle. His hands are one me, one grabbing my dripping hair as he apparently works to guide himself inside of me with the other. It doesn’t take long, because I’ve anticipated this moment in my dreams every night since we’ve been apart.
The old Des would have been embarrassed by the moan that his forceful thrust presses from my lungs, sending him deep inside of me, but I want to show him how I feel; show him just what his touch means to me after all this time. The feeling of sublime fullness is only topped by the sensation of his weight on top of me, pressing me down to the comforter as I feel him press my back down with his hand. I arch my hips a little, feeling him slide in a little deeper, praising him once again with the husky sounds of pleasure coming from my lips. There are no words that could come at this moment, though none are needed at all as he starts to move in me, sending ripples of pleasure through me as I feel him withdraw, only to return once again with a passion I’ve never felt from a man before. Each thrust is more intense than the last and I’m shocked at how quickly my body is responding to him. I turn my head, pressing my cheek to the comforter, just barely able to see that massive chest above me, his eyes staring down at me with lust and hunger. It’s over for both of us a minute later. As I crash over the edge, my body quivering under his as my moans are almost completely cut off, I feel him plunge deep inside of me; feel his body releasing as his weight presses down on me.
Reed Page 13
