American Drifter

by Heather Graham

  He shook his head. For now, he had to avoid the men following him and find Natal. They would have to leave until he could figure out the real purpose of the men in the blue suits. Until they were rid of Tio Amato. First things first—then the dream could begin.

  At last, the float passed. River looked around—no blue suits that he could see. He hurried on through the city, headed to the cog train that went up to the Christ the Redeemer statue. No one followed him; he was certain of that.

  The cog train was full; to keep his mind firmly in the present, he watched those who had never been on it before. It didn’t matter what language they were speaking—their appreciation of the glorious views from the train were evident in their wonder.

  The human condition, he found himself thinking. Men and women were so much the same, no matter where one went. There was the instinct for survival. There was whatever it was that lived in the soul that made people long for love, for that feeling of being together, moving forward, dreaming together, just seeking that happiness that has nothing to do with money and everything to do with the feeling of being as cherished as you cherish that special person.

  There was nothing like sharing the wonders of the world with someone you loved; he saw it in the faces of the happy couples on the train, saw it as they pointed to one another. There was nothing like striving for a family, for that complete feeling …

  He heard the laughter of a child. A sound that was happiness itself, one of the pure beauties of life. It was a sound like water dancing over stones, light and melodic on the air.

  And yet …

  It touched something deep inside of him. And, for a moment, he forgot the men in blue, forgot even his quest to find Natal. And he felt …

  Pain. A staggering sense of pain.

  The cog train stopped, shaking River from his thoughts as he followed the rest of the passengers off.

  When he arrived at the statue, he walked around the base. Twice. Three times. He listened to a guide telling visitors that the statue was ninety-eight feet tall and that it had been dedicated on October 31, 1931, but was not consecrated until October 12, 2006. River wondered if it mattered when it had been built—it was an icon in the world. But more than that, there was something in the statue’s artistry that touched the human heart. It was the welcoming arms, he thought.

  Staring up at the statue, something flashed through his head.

  For a moment, he heard that sweet sound of laughter again. He pictured a house that was warm and smelled sweetly of something baking …

  He would be welcome there; outstretched arms would greet him, loving and encompassing arms like those of the statue.

  Someone bumped into him and apologized profusely. He thought she might have been Scandinavian; her English and Portuguese mixed with something entirely different. He waved away her concerns but didn’t engage in conversation, still clinging to the edges of his vision. It was so close he could touch it …

  “I’ve seen the one in the Florida Keys,” a young man said, walking along with a girl, his arm around her. “Underwater—it’s a copy on one of the reefs. It’s cool, really cool—you dive down to see it. But it’s nothing next to this.”

  They walked on by.

  River looked around for men in blue suits; he didn’t see any.

  And so he started around the base of the statue again with the throngs of people visiting. Not everyone came for Carnaval, he thought; some came just to see the Christ the Redeemer statue.

  It was when he had just about given up hope of finding Natal in the crowd that he suddenly felt arms sweep around him. He turned, and she was there. Her face was radiant.

  “I knew that you would find me,” she said.

  He laughed. “I think you found me.”

  She was oddly grave for a minute, looking up at him.

  “You and I—we will always find one another,” she said.

  He needed to tell her what was going on with him—she had trusted him last night. She had simply run with him. She had brought him to the lake in the park and then …

  Then they had made love and he had sketched her. He hadn’t even remembered that they had been running—his concentration had been on her.

  He needed to tell her what had happened.

  Her name left his lips and then he paused, looking at her—really looking at her. He felt as if something were boiling up inside him—anger so hot he could barely contain it. Not against her—but against anyone who could do such a thing to anyone, much less a woman.

  Natal had tried to cover it with makeup, but she had a black eye.

  “He hit you?” River demanded, shaking.

  She shook her head.

  “You didn’t run into a door,” he told her. “Natal, please, don’t lie to me.”

  “River, don’t look at me like that. Listen to me, I beg you. Don’t waste your anger on such a man; he isn’t worth it. I’m begging you—let it go. I told him that I’m leaving him. In a way, it was my own fault. No one should ever strike out in anger, but I … I went a little crazy and I struck him first; he is so accustomed to violence that he struck back. He was sorry for that and all I wanted was to get away. Please, River—let it go. I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt because you tried to retaliate on my behalf. River—I have broken with him. I am free—please don’t ruin that. There is nothing you can do but be with me. Don’t ruin my new life by losing yours.”

  He held still. He felt the sweetness of the sun falling down upon him and the cool touch of the mountain air.

  She was right. What could he do? Go to Tio Amato’s house and burst in and beat the man to a pulp?

  He would never get past the doorway. Amato had many men—with guns.

  That left walking in with his own gun blazing and then there would be nowhere that he could run.

  And he’d never be with Natal.

  He took a deep breath, touching her hair gently. “I would die before I hurt you.”

  She smiled, took his hand, and pressed a kiss to his palm.

  “I know that you would never hurt me,” she said. “I know that you never will.”

  He was staring into her eyes when something distracted him. Frowning, he looked around her and gritted his teeth.

  Now—now when he needed to concentrate on Natal’s problems, and not on his own.

  One of the men was back.

  There he was. One of the men in the blue suits. This time, it was the hatless bald guy. “We have to go,” he said huskily.

  “All right,” she said. She seemed puzzled, concerned.

  He looked at her quickly. She didn’t know anything about the men in the blue suits. She didn’t know what he had done. It was in self-defense; she would understand.

  But right now, she didn’t know.

  “We have to go, now. I’ll explain; I’ll tell you everything,” he assured her. “As soon as we have a moment, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “I trust you—whatever it is, I trust you,” she said. “We are running from the police?”

  “I’m not sure … I’ll explain later. We’ve got to go.”

  “This way!” she said.

  Natal was good. She was quick with a smile and her words were soft and polite and charming. She managed to get them into a crowd. And somehow—while it had seemed that there were dozens of people ahead of them to get on the cog train that would take them back down the mountain—they managed to get on the next one, the passengers around them chatting merrily enough. No one seemed to realize that they had pushed their way through to the front.

  Then again, it was Carnaval in Rio, a city that prided itself on its joy.

  River kept smiling and thanking people and nodding and agreeing when one of the wonders of the city seen from the cog train was pointed out.

  Soon enough, they were back at the lower station. Afraid that the men would be behind them again soon, River kept moving with Natal’s hand in his.

  “Where should we go?” she murmured.

&nb
sp; “Away—no matter what the crowd in the city, we need to go far. Where those who are not part of the farmland and the native population don’t go. I’m afraid … no matter how many people are doing a samba and no matter how many floats or dancers or parades may move through the city, they will see me. We have to go far.”

  “Then we must take a bus. And you have a transportation card. I will slip in behind you. We’ll be fine. But we must hurry, lest they realize we are truly escaping. Come on.”

  Once again, she knew her way. They took back streets, winding along through alleys and staying off the major boulevards until Natal cried, “Here!”

  They caught a bus that River hadn’t taken before.

  But she was just letting that bus take them to a different stop, where they hopped another bus. And then another.

  And then they were headed out of the city, toward the land reclaimed from the rainforest, where native Brazilians lived and worked, where it was still possible to simply disappear behind the crops, into a rich and fertile landscape with sheltering trees.

  He discovered that they were back on the farmland where they had gone the first day they had been together. Where they had enjoyed their picnic—and given the remains to the old couple, along with their blanket.

  “No one has followed us,” Natal said, carefully looking around. “No one exited the bus when we did; no one was on the road; we’re safe.”

  “I think so,” he agreed.

  But would he ever really be safe? And though she had left Tio Amato, could he ask her to run with him for … as long as it took?

  Maybe forever?

  “Come, it’s time to talk. But we must have something. We’ll buy from the farmers. No one from the city comes here.”

  They paused to buy fruit juice from a vendor. When they walked out into the field, River knew that he had to talk to her then.

  “Natal, I have to tell you what happened—why I keep running.”

  She stood by his side as they stared at the sun setting over the fields and the distant mountains.

  She squeezed his hand, not saying anything.

  “I stabbed a man,” River said. He was afraid that she would wrench away from him. That she’d seen all the violence she could bear.

  He waited for her reaction, barely daring to breathe.

  She looked up at him. “If you stabbed him, he needed stabbing.”

  Her words were flat and true and trusting. Relief flooded him so fully that he felt his limbs trembling; he had fallen impossibly in love with her. If she had rejected him, he wasn’t sure if he cared what the men in the blue suits wanted.

  “I didn’t want to; I tried to leave,” River explained. “But this man—he attacked me with the knife. I got it away from him and told him that I didn’t want trouble. He charged at me like a rhino. I didn’t want to do it.”

  She touched his face gently. “I know you; I know what you’re saying is true.”

  “I believe the man worked for Tio Amato,” he told her. “I’d seen him before. At the track—with Tio Amato.”

  “If he worked for Tio Amato, there is no doubt,” she said, “he most likely deserved to be stabbed.” She let out a breath. “God alone knows what such a man might have done to others in his life.”

  “But I’m an American. Ex-military. I’m afraid that the Brazilian police would never see it that way. Especially because I’m almost certain that the man worked for Tio Amato.”

  She nodded gravely, studying his face. “So what’s your plan? What do you want to do?”

  “To leave,” he said softly. “To take a train.” He paused. He didn’t say exactly where he was going. “North—away from the city. Would you come with me?”

  The world seemed to stop then. Every second that passed seemed like an eternity. He felt like a schoolboy, praying that she would agree, knees like rubber, hands shaking.

  “Of course,” she said.

  He thought that he would collapse, he was so relieved. It was as if his entire body had turned to liquid.

  He fought for composure. “Then we need to get back to the city. I will get another train ticket. I was supposed to go last night, but I saw you. I couldn’t leave once I’d seen you. Not without saying goodbye.”

  That made her smile. Despite her black eye, her smile made her face even more beautiful. Maybe it was the way her face seemed to light up for him. “Now you don’t have to say goodbye.” She squeezed his hand. “You wish to go tonight?”

  He touched her face. “This is love,” he said softly. Natal didn’t contradict him. He couldn’t allow himself the screams and the laughter and the exhilaration he wanted to feel and to act on—any more than he could forget that for this dream to take place, they had to escape. He had to hold on to reality and work for the future.

  “I think it’s important that we leave as quickly as possible,” he continued. “Luckily, the city is crazy busy. This is best for now, but we’ll have to go back to get the train out of Rio. Until then, we should lie low.”

  “I understand that, and I’ll go with you,” she said. “But I must get a few things.”

  “I can buy you new clothing,” he said quickly.

  “And you will, River,” she said, touching his face. “But it’s not clothing that I want, that I have to go back for. It’s my writing. My writing is like my life, you know. It is dreams of the things I will do, memories of the wonders that I have experienced. I can’t leave it behind. There is nothing material that I want or need, but what has been my soul … I can’t leave it, River.”

  “I’ll go with you, then,” he said.

  “No, you cannot.”

  “I’m going to protect you. If you must have such things, I must go with you.”

  “No, it’s best if you don’t. Please, River—you must stay away from Tio Amato. Let us really choose life. You can’t be my great protector in the future if you are dead over such a silly thing as a black eye.”

  He stood, rigid; he didn’t want to kill Amato. He truly hated killing.

  He just wanted to give the thug a good black eye in return and tell the man he was never, never to lift his hand against someone smaller and weaker again.

  Maybe it was more than that. It was true that he’d had enough of killing. Of death. But he wanted to hurt the man badly. He wanted him to feel what others did when they were in his power—desperate, hurting, terrified, and powerless.

  And maybe Natal knew, or understood, just what it was he felt. Maybe she was afraid that if he were somehow confronted by Tio Amato, he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself. He couldn’t prove the man was a murderer. There was no way to take him to court, to make him face legal recourse. All he had was …

  Himself.

  “Here’s the deal we will make,” Natal said firmly. “You will not come with me. If you follow me, I will not go with you. Do you understand?”

  He looked at her. She meant it.

  He nodded slowly.

  She was right; if he went near Tio Amato, he would act. If he acted, he’d be killed by Tio Amato’s henchmen. If he weren’t killed, he’d be arrested, and he’d spend the rest of his life in a Brazilian jail.

  He needed an army to take down Tio Amato. He was one man.

  He nodded again, letting Natal know that he fully understood her reasoning. And he took her into his arms. He just held her there where they stood, and he luxuriated in the trembling gratitude he felt.

  She was with him.

  “Where do I meet you? When will we catch this train?” she asked.

  He pulled away and held her by the shoulders, watching her anxiously. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

  “I don’t intend to confront him; if I don’t confront him, he’ll not argue with me. I don’t intend to see him anyway; the staff there loves me. I’ll just slip in and slip out. You must believe in me, River. You must believe that I can manage myself. Have faith—as I am having faith in you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper at the end. “Now
tell me—where do I meet you?”

  He told her about the small station where they would hopefully be able to board without seeing anyone. And he told her that the train was due to depart at eight.

  “I will be there,” she said firmly.

  “But … you’re going now? We should get something more to eat—we’ve had nothing but a few pieces of fruit. We should spend some time—”

  “No. The fruit was enough for now. We must make this all work out, River, because we will leave tonight. That is everything, my love, everything. We will get away. And then, we’ll have time together, time to enjoy good food and wine and … all good things. We’ll surf on the beaches in the north and picnic on the sands and be together—always,” she told him.

  My love, she had said. He nodded. “All right.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed his lips very gently and tenderly. He felt the stroke of her fingers on his arm.

  “You understand?” she said.

  “I do,” he confirmed.

  “I will be there.”

  “I believe you.”

  She held his gaze. “River, it’s true. I love you.”

  “And you are my dream. You are—everything,” he replied.

  She kissed his lips again. It felt like the whisper of a breeze, her touch beyond sweet, a promise that the future awaited, and that it would be good.

  He closed his eyes, just feeling her touch.

  “I love you,” she said again, and the words were part of her kiss.

  He opened his eyes.

  She was gone; she had disappeared as quickly as possible when his eyes had been closed; she had feared, he was certain, that he would argue with her again.

  That he would want to come with her.

  And he still wanted to be with her. The injustices dealt out by Tio Amato were just so wrong. Wasn’t a man’s role in life to fight against those things that were wrong?

  He turned to call after her—to tell her that they could at least go back to the city limits together.

  But she was really gone, out of sight.

  All he could feel was the lingering caress of her fingers stroking his arm.

  She was coming with him. Natal was coming with him.