Pictures of You Page 13

  Reluctant to return to the scene of the devastation just yet, she was relieved when Jacques appeared to wash at the falls.

  “Do you mind if I dry off here in the sun while you wash?” she asked, mindful of his possible desire for privacy.

  “Mais non, Eva! By all means, stay where you are. I’d like the company.” His friendliness warmed her inside as the sun began its work outside.

  “Tell me, Jacques. Roberto seems to have recovered. Now you seem in good spirits, too. Aren’t you terribly disappointed?” she asked, returning his friendly tone.

  “Of course I am! But, you see, I am a businessman, like Roberto. And a successful one, if I may add.” His smile was so sincere that she couldn’t begrudge the cockiness in the least. “In business, and many other things in life, for that matter, one must be prepared to take risks. Roberto knows that. We took a calculated risk in coming all the way out here to get the Topaz. It was really a, how do you say it, a long shot.”

  Eva interrupted, anxious to get to the point of her question. “But having come all the way here from Paris, don’t you feel defeated?”

  “Not at all,” he went on patiently, his accent soothing her as much as his words. “You see, a calculated risk implies that there will not be a total loss should the risk fail. In this case, ici, we have failed in the ultimate objective, but the process of the journey has been of nearly as much merit as that further objective. Comprenez-vous?” He made such sense that Eva had to admire him all the more.

  “That’s a great way of looking at it, Jacques. I guess I hadn’t seen it quite like that … but you’re right! Does Pierre agree with you?”

  “In a way. Pierre, as I’m sure you can tell, is a very intense person. He is much more goal-oriented than I. Actually, it’s just that I have many subgoals, most of which this trip has satisfied. As for Pierre, perhaps he is disappointed; if so, at least it will take his mind off his other worries.” He sent a knowing grin toward her after this last evaluation, then added, “I’d better see what I can do back at the camp. Are you coming?” He rolled down his sleeves, having passably cleaned himself.

  As renewed as she felt, Eva was still not ready to face the camp. Shaking her head, she explained, “I’m not quite ready to see it all over again. I think I’ll stay here a bit. If someone needs me desperately, you know where I’ll be,” and she sent him on his way with a smile that relected the fondness she felt for this kind and very sensible man.

  When he had disappeared around the bend, Eva lay back on the rock to soak in the few last drying shafts of sunlight She glanced sideways at the cascading water, its rapid heartbeat the sole sign of the tumult that had been.

  Mulling over Jacques’s philosophy, she realized just how right he had been. This trip had much to praise it, even without the joy of seeing the Espinhaco Topaz. For much to her amazement, she had indeed been freed of her obsession with Stu, his death, and his family since she had been here. True, she had thought about them, but never with the same mind-possessing pall she had lived with in New York. As heartbreaking as she knew her love for Roberto to be, at least it had reminded her that life still went on, that there was indeed a future.

  “You look like Eve in the garden of Eden!” an affectionate note sounded. Eva looked up to see Paul standing there, astonished that he too should have suggested the same analogy that she and Roberto had both made. The uncanniness was furthered when Tom appeared from behind Paul to add, his twinkling eyes teasing her, “Except that you are wearing clothes … .”

  Eva bounded up, hiding her embarrassment behind a warm grin, to deliver mock clobbers to the heads of the two. “You jokers! Hey, how do you feel, Tom?” she asked, becoming momentarily serious.

  “I’m fine, Eva. Just filthy! So if you’ll excuse me, I can wash up,” he humored her with a wink.

  Paul added, “I think you could help Roberto back at the camp.” Eva wondered if there was something in his suggestion beyond the mere words, but she chose to overlook it as she waved over her shoulder and headed toward the bend.

  She was astounded at the high spirits during supper, even with Jacques’s earlier rationalization. She was sure, moreover, that the sugar-cane brandy, called cachaça by the Brazilians, which Roberto mysteriously produced from among the supplies, was no bit player in the definitely therapeutic evening. How foresighted he had been to bring along this medicine, Eva acknowledged, feeling the numbing glow of it herself. How much nicer it would have been, though, to have enjoyed it in celebration of a greater success!

  The brandy had been definitely called for—it had been very depressing, after they had washed up, to determine bag for bag what had been lost. Eva had lost both her knapsack and her bedroll under the overhang. Miraculously, her camera gear had been hastily stowed with the things on the opposite side of the ruin and was, for the most part, in good working order. Several other bedrolls and knapsacks, not to mention practically all of the digging equipment, had been lost. Roberto readily conceded that it would be impossible to uncover anything more with the few tools that remained.

  “This is a democratic expedition,” he maintained. “If the majority of you want to try, we try. But it is my judgment that, with the few supplies we have, we have little hope for the gear packed under the hundreds of pounds of earth over there. As for the Topaz, it would take a bulldozer to make much progress toward reaching it now!”

  “What do you suggest, Roberto?” Jacques’s easy manner came right to the point.

  “As much as I hate to say it, I suggest we start back for Terra Vermelho in the morning. We can share clothes, bedrolls, whatever is necessary for the trip back, and we are in good shape for food. Any objections?” His eye scanned the group seated around him, and when no sound of objection was raised, he nodded his head in acknowledgment. It was at that point that the cachaça had appeared, and things moved uphill from there.

  The evening was indeed a merry one, particularly in light of the day’s tragedy. But Eva could understand why. She tried as hard as the next to compensate for the bitter disappointment they all shared, to one extent or another. Having gone through such a trial with these men, she felt closer to all of them tonight, a bond cemented by their mutual ordeal. She drank her share of cachaça, soon participating freely in the laughter.

  She was unaware of going to bed that night, so strongly had the brandy affected her. Somewhere in her subconscious, she vaguely remembered crawling away from the others, curling up on the ground with a rock as a pillow, and savoring her release from the traumatic day’s happenings. Through her haze she sensed some movement around her, some weight bringing warmth to her shoulders, and then nothing.

  When she woke up in the morning she was in Roberto’s arms. So content had she been, nestled against the warm lines of his body, that she hadn’t realized where she was until her head shifted and her ear came to rest against a heartbeat that she knew could not be her own. She bolted up, only to be restrained by the arm that encircled her shoulder. Simultaneously, a hand clapped over her mouth to prevent her outcry, as he motioned with his eyes that the others were sleeping nearby.

  It was to her utter dismay that she found herself lying snugly against him, one arm across his chest, legs intertwined. As soon as he was sure that she would be silent, he released her. She promptly disengaged herself from him, snaked out of the sleeping bag—his, she noted, since hers had been buried—and ran quietly to the waterfall to catch her breath.

  The sun had not yet come up, but the pale light of dawn provided what little light she needed to find the way to her spot. Splashing cold water on her face, the reality of the situation became clear. She had spent the night with Roberto. What had happened? How had she gotten there? Had anything else happened? She was still dressed in the grimy clothes of yesterday at least that was a good sign. She sat down and buried her face in her hands in embarrassment at her predicament.

  It was thus that Roberto found her moments later. He doused his own face with water before coming to sit down
next to her. She hadn’t looked up yet; she hadn’t needed to, to know that it was he who had joined her.

  “That was quite a night,” he teased, a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “Was it?” she replied coldly.

  “What do you remember?”

  “Not much,” she admitted miserably, seeing no point in hiding the truth.

  “You didn’t have all that much to drink. Do you always react that way to liquor?” He kept his voice soft and peered at her through inquisitive eyes.

  “No. Only when I live through torrential rainstorms and landslides!” she retorted sarcastically.

  “Ah, I see your sense of humor is returning. Good! Now, tell me what you do remember about last night.” His persistence angered her, he was that determined to humiliate her.

  “I told you. I don’t remember much,” she snapped. “I remember lying down, something being thrown over me, and that’s about all until I woke up in …” she broke off, unable to spell out the source of her mortification.

  “In my arms?” He wasn’t going to let up on her.

  She became more perturbed by the minute. “You tell me what happened. One of us must have been aware of what he was doing and it sure wasn’t me! What did happen?” she demanded.

  His devilish smile irked her even more. “You had no sleeping bag and I did. When you more or less passed out, I put you into mine. Where was I to sleep? You didn’t seem to mind a bit when I climbed in with you. In fact, you were very cuddly!” he smirked, but to Eva’s greater embarrassment, he hadn’t finished.

  “I can’t say I got much sleep. You nearly drove me crazy, moving next to me so seductively! So you see the sacrifices I make? The least you could do is to thank me!” His mockery was too much for Eva.

  “Thank you?” she burst out, then immediately lowered her voice, realizing that the last thing she wanted was for any of the others to know what had taken place.

  “Thank you?” she repeated in a harsh whisper. “What should I thank you for? For putting me into your bed with you? You’ve been wanting to do that since the day I arrived,” she accused, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Do you always take advantage of helpless women?” ..

  She found his calmness, as he replied, all the more maddening in light of her own agitation. He stated quietly, “I have never taken advantage of you. You’ve gotten just what you wanted. Can you deny that you slept better last night, next to me, than you have in months?”

  “If it hadn’t been for your damned brandy,” her eyes flashed with her ready response, “I wouldn’t have been anywhere near you. You are detestable! Are you so desperate to seduce me that you have to resort to getting me drunk?”

  It was with only minor satisfaction that her words finally hit a sensitive cord. He stood up abruptly, grabbed her upper arms with his powerful hands, yanked her to her feet, and pulled her body firmly against his. She had no choice but to look up at him, his eyes blazing with a passion her heart wished were love but her mind knew to be hatred.

  His response was calculated, each word spoken with conviction. “No, Eva. When I take you, you’ll be stone sober. Lovemaking, in case you didn’t know, is an activity involving two people. You, my black widow, will make love to me as passionately as I will to you. And you’ll remember every minute of it!” With a final piercing glance, he thrust her away and was gone. Eva could only stagger at his force, her open mouth a token of all the words that hadn’t come.

  Trembling, she turned back to the waterfall. When I take you, he had said. When … when … she gagged on his presumption. That was, after all, what he wanted. Not her company. Not her help. But her body! When I take you, he had said. Of all the … she couldn’t think of enough derogatory names to use to describe him.

  Yet as each one entered and then passed from her mind, she knew that her love for him was as strong as ever. He had been right. She had slept better, in his arms, last night than she had slept in a very long time. She had felt safe, warm, comforted, cared for, and desired. Yes, even the last—desire—was what she needed. She needed to be desired, unfortunately not only in body, as Roberto wanted her, but also in spirit. She had come so close to finding the perfect relationship, she reflected sadly, just as the expedition had come so close to finding the perfect Topaz. The major element lacking in the relationship she saw between herself and Roberto was entirely one-sided, his love.

  Well, she rationalized, it was almost over now. They would soon be on the return leg of their journey. By tomorrow they would be back in Terra Vermelho, and as soon as possible after that, she would be on her way to New York. As much as she hated to return there, she feared remaining here more. And anyway, she had her pictures to deliver to her editor.

  The aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the trees and around the bend, bidding her return to the scene of the crime. And return she did, avoiding Roberto’s gaze and his company. She discovered that the rest of the crew had awaked in her absence, and both packing and breakfast were well under way.

  There was something terribly anticlimactic about the morning. The effects of the brandy were gone, so there were neither high spirits nor the dark of night to hide from view the devastation of the mine collapse. Particularly noticeable in the morning air, once the coffee had been downed, was the odor of wet earth, a dank sort of smell which imprinted itself in Eva’s memory, guaranteeing that in the future should she smell a similar odor of moisture, her mind would reflexively return to this mountain side.

  Actually, the packing was an abbreviated affair this time around, since well over half of the supplies had either been consumed or entombed. To Eva’s surprise and chagrin, Roberto approached her just before they were ready to set off. She tried to head in the opposite direction, but he was too fast for her and cut her off.

  “What do you want now?” she demanded uneasily.

  “Shhh! Do you want everyone to know about our secret relationship?” he taunted in a low voice.

  “That kind of inane question doesn’t even deserve an answer. What do you want?” she spat out, trying desperately to keep a stern front under his melting gaze.

  To her puzzlement, there was a melancholy look in his eyes at her response. “Your camera bag. We have plenty of room for it on the donkeys. Do you want to pack it up?”

  “What? And get out of shape?” She refused to be bought off with empty gestures.

  “Hmmm … you’re right. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?” he chided, giving her a look from head to toe which left no question as to his meaning.

  Before she had time to recover from this visual rape —for that was how she thought of it—he turned from her and headed back to secure the final straps around the animals. Once more, she thought disdainfully, he had gotten the last word.

  Within moments they were on their way, retracing the steps they had so enthusiastically taken but two days before. Eva spared no last glance at the mine, or what had once been the mine. The sight of yesterday’s destruction still knotted her stomach, and, given the fact that redeeming the Topaz was now out of the question, she had no desire to linger further.

  Her Eden, as she thought of it fondly, was another matter. The early morning sun was now dancing on the shimmering stones in a primitive gavotte. Letting herself fall to the end of the procession, she lifted her camera to capture a few final shots of this, nature’s romp. She moved in closer, backed away, shifted to the left, then to the right, knelt down to ground level—snapping her shutter again and again in hopes that maybe one, just one, of her frames would capture the freedom, the happiness, the pure life that this waterfall symbolized for her. She had felt so at peace in this spot; if only she could look at a photograph in the future that would convey a fraction of that same peace, she would be grateful.

  Of course, the memories of this waterfall would also include memories of Roberto, his body warm and masculine, his chest firm and electrifying against her own. As painful as these memories might be to her, she knew that she would cherish them always.
Even now, flooding back, they sent a thrill of excitement through her.

  “Are you going to stand there much longer? You wouldn’t want to be lost forever, would you?” He stood so magnificently on the path, arms crossed on his chest, well-muscled legs set confidently, dark eyes staring at her—almost as a living re-creation of her momentary daydream.

  Seeing him thus, she couldn’t think of any properly sarcastic comment to make. Instead, she made one last exposure, this in token defiance of his implication that she shouldn’t stop, slipped the strap of the camera over one shoulder and the strap of the duffel over the other, took one last look, a personal farewell, at the waterfall, and joined him as he turned and proceeded on the path.

  “Yes, Roberto. I could be lost here forever. Right by that waterfall. It’s so peaceful there …” she replied pensively.

  “I think you’d get tired of constant serenity. You enjoy a good fight. Your face lights up, your whole body becomes alert. You rise to the challenge each time.” There was no mockery in his analysis this time, as they walked side by side, the rest of the party ahead and out of sight.

  She couldn’t totally deny what he said. He was perceptive once again, she had to admit. “I suppose you’re right. I do like a challenge. But there’s a difference between a challenge and a battle. Just as I thrive on the challenge, I die a little bit with every battle. There has to be a certain amount of harmony in life—at least, in some aspects of life.”

  “As in a marriage?” he broke in.

  “Yes. As in a marriage.” He knew to what she referred, so she didn’t elaborate. Although she felt the subject to be verging on the uncomfortable, she was thoroughly enjoying his company, she realized. He was fun to talk with, intelligent, perceptive. She opened up to him readily. More importantly, he seemed to be enjoying himself also. Without the sparring which usually characterized their interchanges, she sought to prolong the conversation.