The Black Orchid

by Sawyer Caine

  I took him into my arms and held him close. I could not speak, and I could barely breathe. After some time, I regained my composure and looked deep into those jade eyes. I put my hands on either side of his face and forced my emotions down deep. “Love, I will not leave you,” I vowed.

  “You will and you must. When you lay me to rest, go to him.”

  I held him in my arms and stroked my fingers through his hair. “I will do it if that is your will,” I answered.

  “It is my will,” he replied.

  Those were the last words he ever spoke to me. I lay with him that night and just before the sun rose at dawn, he left me. I held his hand as I felt the warmth go out of it. I watched as the man I loved went to God, nothing behind him but the shell of a body that had held him down in its last years, broken with sickness. Frederick had only been thirty-nine years old. It did not seem fair.

  *

  I put him in the crypt next to my father and mother. I placed the dried orchids in his hands. He had treasured them above all his possessions. His father had been notified by telegram that Frederick was ill, but he had been too busy to tear himself away from his business. He sent flowers, but they didn’t come for the funeral. I doubted Frederick would have minded. He’d become estranged from his father in these last years. Time and distance had driven them apart. I blamed myself for it.

  For days and days uncounted, I grieved for him, spending all my time in the crypt, talking to him endlessly. I sat in the garden and stared at the roses, remembering how Frederick had once wanted to be a world famous botanist. His weak lungs had taken that dream from him. I had been given everything, even the love of a beautiful man, and he had been given so much less. He had loved me unconditionally, and I had loved him through a veil. For him, it had been enough. I longed for death, wishing that it might take me to be with him. I prayed for it each and every day but it never came.

  I was sitting before the fire, dosing in my chair when he came to me. I saw him as clearly as I saw the flickering flames. He stood there, young, strong, his jade eyes flashing at me and he spoke to me.

  “You have not done as I asked of you. Why? Leave this place to Fritz and go! You told me that you would, but yet you have not. What do you wait for, Alfred? He is still there, he waits for you. Go to him! Go!”

  “Frederick!” I screamed as I stood and upset the small table next to me. “Wait, don’t leave me, don’t leave…” He was gone. I slumped down in the chair and gave way to miserable sobs. How could I ever go back? I would never be able to find him. How could I know if he even still lived? Who there would be able to help me find him? It was madness. No, I would stay here and dream of Frederick. I would wait for the sentence of my life to pass, and I would be with him again. I had no other choice. Nekai was a dream and a chance lost. I could not go back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The nights were too long and too cold without him. I grieved for him, and I could not find the way to let him go. Day after empty day passed with no reprieve from it. I was in my father’s study one afternoon when Fritz came to see me. I was reviewing my will and my legal papers. I wanted to be certain that everything was in order, and that I’d left nothing to chance. The knock on the door drew my attention away from my task.

  “Alfred, what the bloody hell was so damn important that you had to see me this morning and not tomorrow?” Fritz asked in exasperation as he folded his big frame into the chair opposite me.

  “I wanted to go over this will and testament with you. In the event of my death, Heathwood and everything that I possess will go to you. The house, grounds, stocks and bonds, everything will be yours. I want your signature on these forms so I can forward them to my attorney. I need to be sure that you will be taken care of.”

  “Alfred, why do you speak like this? You talk like a man on the doorstep of death. Do you mean to do harm to yourself?” he asked.

  “Fritz, I have nothing left to live for. Frederick is gone, and I cannot seem to move past this point. I can no longer find a reason to wake in the morning, and I am tired of grief with no reprieve. There is nothing…” I trailed off, unable to find the voice to continue.

  Fritz rose and paced back and forth, his hand on his chin and a violent look on his face. I felt the confrontation brewing, and I’d known he would be angry with me but I had prepared my defense. I would insist that without Frederick, I had no reason to continue. Fritz would not give me the chance to present that defense. He charged across the room like a raging bull and removed the painting of our mother that covered the safe in my father’s study. I watched as he worked the combination and opened it.

  “You say you have nothing to live for? What about him?” He asked as he held the picture of Nekai and Nekana out to me. I turned my head and refused to look at it. Fritz, however, was not to be dissuaded and kept moving it into my line of vision.

  “Fritz, stop torturing me with something I can never have!” I cried, attempting to get out of my chair. He stood over me and pushed me back down into it.

  “Look, Alfred, look at him and tell me that those old feelings aren’t still there. Look into his eyes and try to remember if you can,” he insisted.

  How little did he know that those tumultuous feelings had never left me. They lived under my skin, just beneath the surface and waiting for a catalyst to set them off. I took the picture in my shaking hand. I brushed the tip of my finger over the image of Nekai, preserved in the perfection of his youth. The old longing flared its ugly head once more, and I felt the slow burn of my desire for him awaken. I laid the picture down on the desk and shoved the chair back, walking over to the window and bracing my hands on the sill. I stood looking out over the gardens of Heathwood.

  “Fritz, I haven’t had word of him in fifteen years. The last I heard, the tribe had to move deeper into the jungle to be safe from their enemies. I wouldn’t have any way to even find him,” I protested.

  “What of his sister? You told me that she was at university in Caracas. Perhaps you might find some trail there that you could follow. The monks at Tucupita, have you written to them as of late? Mayhap they have some word…”

  “Fritz, why are you encouraging this madness? When I first talked of taking that damn idol back to the jungle after father passed, you were the only voice of reason that insisted it was foolish nonsense. Now you are trying to convince me to go on yet another wild chase?”

  “I told you I didn’t want you to go that first time because I didn’t believe in that dark-magic nonsense, but if half the stories you and Frederick have told me were true, then I was clearly wrong and something stronger than us is at work here. Alfred, I’ve watched the sadness in your eyes all these years. I’ve stood by as you lived your life the way you thought others wanted you to. You’ve done right by Frederick since you came back. You stayed with him and you were faithful to him in word and deed if not entirely in thought. Why do you think that you do not deserve happiness?”

  “I’m too old to go back now, Fritz. He would be thirty-one years old. He’s surely married and a family man now. What could I possibly give to him, scarred up with this bum leg, gray beginning to show in my hair, lines starting around my eyes? I’m forty-three years old, Fritz. What would he want with me now?”

  “Can you not just go and see him and then you will know the answers to those questions. Try to find him at least, Alfred. Send a letter to Tucupita and inquire about them. Do this for me so that I can know that you are, at the very least, not going to do harm to yourself.”

  I turned from the window and made my way back to the desk. Fritz pushed a sheet of stationary and a quill pen to me. I took it from him and dipped the tip into the inkwell. I hesitated only a moment, then launched into the letter. I’d toyed with the idea of penning a letter to the monks for so many years that I knew exactly what I wanted to say. It took me only a few moments to finish my inquiry. Before I could change my mind, he grabbed it away from me and read it.

  “Post the envelope while I re
ad!” he ordered, and I wrote the address for the monastery on the front of the envelope. When I was finished, he took that from me too and folded the letter, pushing it into the envelope and sealing it with the wax Heathwood seal of the bear on its hind legs.

  “I’ll post this for you when I go back to London. Now we wait, and I expect you to begin getting your mind set for this. They will write back to you, and then you will let me know when they do, agreed?” he insisted.

  “Yes, I’ll let you know. I’ll telephone you when I hear from them.”

  Time passed quickly that spring as I waited for the response from Tucupita. I’d sent a letter much like it to the university at Caracas hoping to reach Nekana, but they had written back to inform me that they hadn’t heard from her for several years.

  I was in the music room with Fritz, listening to Annalise playing Rachmaninoff for us both the day the letter arrived. Fritz was almost as excited as I at the prospect of news. We retired to the study, and he poured us both a glass of Scotch while I tore open the letter and fell into my chair as I read.

  “My Dear Lord Heathwood,

  I am so pleased to hear from you again after all these years. I expected that sooner or later you would inquire about your lost friends again. I regret to inform you that I have had no word from them in a very long time. They no longer trade with the town and the raftsmen do not go down the Orinoco far enough to find them. They removed themselves deep into the jungle in an effort to be safe from the conflicts that were brewing here after you left.

  I can tell you that Nekana was a doctor working among the indigenous tribes when last I spoke with her. It has been several years. She was having supplies airlifted and dropped in the jungle by a colleague at Caracas. If you need to know exactly where the tribe is, you might contact the university and make inquiry as to whether or not those medical shipments are still being delivered. Perhaps they can give you a general location in which to look.

  I’m afraid that none of the raftsmen would be able to take you by river to the location. The best I could offer you would be to try and find a guide here in Tucupita that would be willing, for the right price, to go with you into the jungle and attempt to find them. The Warao have become wary and untrusting of outsiders in these later years. I would warn you that the possibility exists that both Nekai and Nekana may no longer be with them. You know how dangerous life in the jungle is and well, I don’t need to say more on that.

  I will make a few inquiries for you and see what I can discover. I am enclosing the number for the telephone at the monastery. We have decided to bring ourselves into modern times a bit and had one installed. Please call for me at your convenience, and we can discuss this matter in more detail. I will close by telling you this.

  When I had the unfortunate task of informing young Nekai that you no longer wished to have communication with him, he was rather devastated by the news. I know that he had been working so hard to learn English so that he could speak with you. He made very good progress even after you refused to communicate further with him. I have one last letter that he wrote but you instructed me not to send it so I did not. If you would like to have it, I will post it to you. Let me know.

  Sincerely,

  Father Dawes”

  “Well for God’s sake, man, call him!” Fritz roared as he snatched the letter away from me and reached for the telephone on my desk.

  “Fritz, wait, I hardly know what to say…” I stammered off as he had already dialed the number, adding the international code. He held the receiver out to me, and I took it from him with an exasperated sigh.

  When the voice on the other line answered in Spanish, I panicked for a moment, then cleared my throat and asked for Father Dawes. “Un momento,” was the reply.

  I waited for a few moments, then the line crackled to life. “Yes, hello?”

  “Father, this is Alfred Heathwood. I just received your letter.”

  “Ah, yes, Lord Heathwood. I’d hoped to hear from you. How are you faring?”

  “Not very well, I’m afraid. Frederick passed away last winter and the loss has been… difficult for me.”

  “I’m so very sorry to hear that. What was the ailment if I may inquire?”

  “Consumption, but the doctors have assured me that I am free of it.”

  “That’s a blessing to be certain.”

  “Yes, I’m trying to move forward as I know he would have wanted me to. I know you are busy, Father, so I won’t keep you long. Did you have any luck with finding a guide? I sent letters to the university at Caracas, but they informed me that they have had no word from Nekana for several years.”

  “Yes, I did find a man who is willing to take you into the jungle. He told me that he knew about where they were, but it has been several years since he went to them. He is willing to take you to look for them if you wish to go. His price is rather high, however.”

  “Money is no object. Name the price, and I will pay it.” Fritz glanced up at me, but I meant exactly what I said.

  “He wants five thousand for the trip,” Father Dawes answered.

  “That is no hardship for me. Tell him I will pay it. Ask him when he can be ready. I will make the arrangements to come to you. Can I stay with you at the monastery? Oh, and Father, would you please post that last letter Nekai wrote to me?”

  “Yes, I’ll send it to you today. I will contact the man and let him know that the terms are acceptable.”

  “Do you trust him, Father, this man?”

  “Yes. He was once a Warao himself but left to come live in the city. I believe he is honest, and I don’t think you have to fear from him. His name is Josepe, and he lives here with his wife and son, Alandro. I think that the boy will be accompanying you as well.”

  “Good. The more, the merrier,” I replied. We closed the call with assurances that he would telephone me when he had talked with Josepe.

  When I turned to Fritz, he was smiling. “I can see the change in you already!” he beamed. “You’re getting excited, aren’t you, old boy? What did he have to say?”

  “He thinks he has a man that might be able to find them, but it could be a long shot since he hasn’t spoken to them in several years. This man was once one of the tribe but left to live in the city. He and his son will be accompanying me to try and find them. Fritz, do you think this is madness? Tell me if you do,” I begged.

  “No, Alfred, it’s not madness. You’ve been living half a life for too long now, and it’s time you were happy again. I will support you no matter what, but you must promise me that you will keep your head about you and not do anything foolish. This is dangerous, and you know that but I think it is something that you must do. You must at least attempt to find him again, even if only to assure yourself that he is still alive.”

  “Fritz, how is it that you are the one who has the wisdom when I am the older of the two of us?” I asked as he lit a cigarette and passed it across the desk to me.

  “Because you are the dreamer and I am the realist. Sometimes, it is not so very bad a thing to open your mind to the other way of thinking, though. I understand you. Frederick understood too. You know this is what he would have wanted you to do.”

  “Yes, he told me so,” I replied, fighting the tears that strained at the backs of my eyes.

  Fritz rose and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m here for you, my brother. I will do what I can to see you happy once again.”

  *

  I signed the papers that gave ownership of Heathwood and all my stocks over to Fritz. I’d transferred ample funds into a bank at Tucupita a week before. I would be able to live rather well with the money as long as I used my head. Charles loaded the small bags of luggage I’d packed along with a steamer trunk into the trunk of the car. Fritz stood off to one side as we waited to be ready to leave.

  I turned to look back at Heathwood one last time. Chances were great that I would never see it again. I’d spent the morning sitting beside Frederick’s tomb, talking to him about our life
together, and the adventures we’d shared. When Charles came for me, I stood and ran my fingers over his name, then leaned down and pressed my lips to the cold stone.

  “Be at peace, my love,” I whispered as I turned and slowly walked away.

  Fritz rode with me in the back of the car as Charles drove us to the docks. The fog was thick over the channel that morning, just as it had been all those long years ago when Frederick and I had made that same journey. We spoke no words to each other, just sat in company. Fritz knew, as I knew, that the likelihood that we would ever speak face to face again was very low.

  We embraced for a long while as the dock workers loaded my luggage on to the boat and Charles gave my arm a squeeze. I paused to embrace him as well. I could not find the words to say goodbye, so I raised my hand in farewell as they slipped into the mist behind me while the boat pulled away. They stood, side by side, on the dock. I waited until the fog obscured them completely before turning away and lighting a cigarette.

  I’d put the flask of Scotch into my coat pocket. I retrieved it and took a draught to calm my nerves, then reached for the envelope in the other pocket. It contained the photograph of Nekana and Nekai, all the correspondence from them and the necklace. The other treasures were packed in my trunk along with mementos and photographs of Frederick and my family that I wished to have with me. I ran my finger over the braid of hair, then looped the necklace around my neck and tucked it beneath my shirt for safekeeping. I stared at the photograph during the long car ride along the coast of France. I held it in my hands while I reclined in the suite of the same hotel Frederick and I had rested in while we waited for the flight in the morning.