The Black Orchid

by Sawyer Caine

  It was a beautiful black orchid, just like the one Frederick held in his tomb. The tears flooded my eyes, and I had to look away again. “I’m so sorry, my love,” I whispered low so no one else would hear it. When Alandro and his father returned to the boat, I had my emotions back in my control again.

  We rode in the boat all day long, stopping only a few times to get out for necessity and to eat once more. Josepe became more and more wary. Alandro told me that his father felt we were getting close to the place where they were staying.

  “Father says we will have to leave the boat and gear here and go inland a bit. He says a big waterfall is a few miles in and the last time he saw his people, that was where they were. He doesn’t know if they are still there, but he thinks that we should look there first.”

  “They are at the falls?” I asked in shock. Of course. That was a sacred place for them, and it was still close to the river. The stream that fed the falls was huge, and they could easily fish out of the pools and feed themselves well in that place. I told Alandro that I’d been there before, and he smiled and nodded as he handed me my pack to carry. We were only taking food and water with us.

  Josepe and Alandro tried to disguise the boat with sticks and fern leaves, then we headed off into the dense jungle with Josepe leading the way, blazing a trail for us with his machete. We must have walked for hours. It was nearing dark when I heard the sound of the falls and felt its thunder beneath my feet. It was like turning back the hands of time again. Though the light was starting to fade, here beneath the jungle canopy, Josepe still had enough to see by and he continued toward that sound.

  Suddenly, he stopped and held up his hand. Alandro stiffened beside me and reached out to take my arm. We were surrounded. All around us stood tall, well-muscled and very angry looking young men. They had bows drawn and fitted with arrows and were pointing them directly at us. My eyes alone moved as I looked around at them all. I could tell by their way of dress they were Warao. The biggest one looked to be about Alandro’s age. He was quite tall, six-four I would guess. He had big, broad shoulders and a very strong build. His eyes were large, round and rimmed with long lashes and his mouth was full and soft looking. He was naked except for a loin cloth much like the one Nekai had always worn. He was very beautiful. I was spellbound as I stared at him. Something was so familiar about him. “He looks like…,” I whispered. Alandro moved to shush me, but the young man had heard me speak.

  Josepe stood with his hands up and slowly lowered the one holding the machete. I heard him speaking to the big boy in their slow, rolling language. I watched as the big boy nodded his head, then stepped past Josepe to look down at me. He tilted his head to one side while regarding me, and then the words that fell out of his mouth astounded us all.

  “Alfred Heathwood,” he said clearly as he looked into my eyes.

  We three gave an audible gasp and Alandro gripped my arm. “Do you know him?” he asked in a loud whisper.

  “He might be older than he looks. Perhaps he remembers me from when I was here fifteen years ago,” I answered as I inclined my head toward Alandro and spoke as softly as I could.

  The young man turned and gestured for us to follow him. The others with him had lowered their bows and put away the arrows but were still watching us closely with suspicion. Alandro walked beside me and Josepe in front of us as we followed the big boy along a narrow path. Soon, I could clearly hear the falls and I could see glimpses of torches through the jungle up ahead.

  We came out into the clearing before the falls. A circle of large huts was built up on stilts in the round, open-sided fashion that I’d seen in the old village. In the center was a large fire-pit and around it were gathered women and some children. They all stood up and took notice of us when we drew near. I could hear shouts going all around in their language as they told each other about the strangers. I even heard a man call Josepe’s name. Josepe looked aside at the man and nodded but kept to his path behind the big boy who led us.

  We stopped in front of the largest of the huts, presumably the shaman’s. The big boy gestured for us to wait, then he went up the steps and called into the hut.

  “He is calling for his father. This boy is the shaman’s son,” Alandro whispered to me. I nodded, my anxiety level growing stronger with every minute.

  I could hear someone moving about within the hut, then the red mat that hung over the door lifted slowly. The big boy was standing in front of it. I could barely see, but when he moved aside, my knees went weak, and I nearly fainted.

  The man who stood in the doorway was massive, with broad shoulders, a sculpted chest, bulging biceps and a tight, muscled stomach. His eyes were dark, deep-set and somewhat severe looking. His black hair was cut in long layers and fell just below his shoulders. He wore the ceremonial headband of a shaman, red with two feathers hanging down from one side of it. Draped over his massive shoulders was a red cloak fastened at the neck with a carved wooden broach and he wore only a dark loincloth that stopped at his knees. He held a staff in his hand. When he turned to look directly at me, I saw a healed scar that ran down the left side of his face near one eye. In my mind, I saw that scar when it had been fresh, when that face had been younger, when the man who stood before me had been a boy.

  “Nekai!” I cried as the last of my breath left my lungs in an audible gasp. He was alive. He was here, and he stood only a few feet from me. Nekai, my Nekai, I’d found him at last!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I could neither speak nor move as I stood transfixed. He was alive in the jungle, living within a stone’s throw of the very spot where I’d first touched him, where I’d first committed that greedy, sinful act of trying to claim him for my own when he was never mine for the having. He had become a magnificent specimen of a man, so much larger and stronger than he’d been when last I’d laid my unscrupulous eyes upon him. The boy who stood with him had to be at least fourteen, though he looked much older. The Warao men were all big, muscular brutes but their leader, my lost love, was the tallest and strongest of them all.

  He took a few steps away from the hut, moving almost warily toward us, then closed the distance in three, large strides. My breath would not come as I raised my eyes to look up at this man who, when last we’d stood face to face, had been forced to look up at me. The tables were definitely turned now. He towered over me.

  Josepe spoke in their language, and Alandro moved closer to me so that he could translate. I could not take my eyes off of Nekai, so changed he was and yet so much remained the same, beautiful and unattainable, just the way I remembered him. He was forbidden to me yet so close within my grasp, a teasing, tantalizing something that I could never have and must be damned to be always desiring for.

  “Father is telling the shaman that you have come a long way to find the Warao. The shaman asked my father if we had any trouble from enemies on the river, and my father told him that we did not. The shaman asked if it was only you that has come and my father assured him that it was so. Now, the shaman is telling my father that he wishes to speak with you alone in his hut. You must go up with him. Do not be afraid. I do not think that you are in any danger, but his mood seems volatile. Don’t say anything disrespectful to him, please or he may spear you in the gullet.”

  Alandro certainly had a way with words. I swallowed hard and nodded, then followed Nekai when he made his way back to the hut. When his son attempted to enter behind him, Nekai put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and shook his head no, speaking to him in their language. The boy nodded and stepped back, glancing suspiciously at me as if he feared I meant to do harm to his father. As if there was a chance under heaven that I could ever do so.

  When I ducked my head to enter, Nekai’s son reached up and pulled the woven mat down over the door to give us privacy from the curious eyes of the tribe. Nekai stood with his back to me, facing the fire pit in the center of the large hut. We were alone. Though I could easily hear the conversations taking place outside the hut and smell th
e food cooking over fire pits, it was as if the world had shrank down to the confines of this small space and only he and I existed.

  When he faced me, his expression remained unreadable. I longed to throw myself at him, beg for his forgiveness for abandoning him and plead with him to let me stay, remain with them so that I might at least bask in his glory. I saw him take a deep breath, his full mouth parting slightly to reveal his straight, white teeth. His tongue darted out and ran over his bottom lip as he shifted nervously. I could feel his indecision. Finally, he relented to whatever inhibition had been restraining him, and he grabbed the front of my sweat-soaked and filthy shirt, pulling me tightly against him. He put his strong arms around me, crushing me and his chin rested on top of my head.

  “Alfred,” he sighed, the vibration of his voice rumbling through my body and making me shiver.

  “Nekai,” I returned as my arms snaked around his waist.

  His scent was all around me, and I remembered it like it had been yesterday. Oh God, I had longed for him like a man wandering through an inhospitable wasteland longs for water. He alone could quench my thirst. His big hands slid up my back and ran through my hair as I tilted my head back to look up at him.

  “I missed you,” he whispered.

  I could not stop the gasp of astonished surprise that escaped my lips. He had spoken perfect English. “Nekai!” I cried. “You… you can… you can talk to me?”

  “Yes, not so good like Nekana but yes. Alfred, why you leave me? Why?”

  His face contorted as he tried to keep his emotion in check. He stepped back from me with his head down, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. His powerful body shook with the effort to contain his anger. The feeling was so palpable that I could almost reach out and touch it. I knew he had every right to ask that question, but I didn’t know if I could form the answer in a way that he would understand. I knew that Nekai was not stupid, but I could hardly understand my reasoning myself.

  “Nekai, Frederick is dead. He was sick for a long time. He has been gone now for six months. I promised him I would find you again. I’m sorry I left you alone here. I had no choice. Frederick tolerated a lot of abuse from me. Oh Nekai, I never wanted to hurt you…” My voice broke as the tears welled up in my eyes. Talking to him of Frederick had been almost too much to bear. The pain of his loss was still fresh with me.

  Nekai reached out for me again and held me close to him. He was still trembling, and I knew that the situation was mercurial at best. If I could only help him to understand…

  “Frederick is gone? I am sorry. I know you love him more than me. I know you and me, it was wrong, but I wanted you. You made me feel so good. Nekana, she tell me that I should forget about Alfred Heathwood, but I cannot. I have the picture and the presents you send to me. I cannot throw away. I want to keep close to me to remember. Why, why you stop writing to me? I am just learn how to do it so well and you stop. You make me cry so much for you. Nekana, she hold me and tell me to be a man, but I want to know why”

  His teeth were clenched, and I could see the anger coming to a head again. I wanted to ease his pain, but my own was so overwhelming. I reached up and brushed my fingers over the scar on the side of his face, remembering that day when he’d come back to us at the pyramid. That terrible day when I’d though he was lost to us forever.

  “Nekai, Frederick knew he was dying. He wanted to have as much time with me as he could, and he asked me to stop conversing with you because he knew… he knew that you still held my heart. He wanted to hold it for as long as he had left. Please understand my position, Nekai. He was my lover. I owed him the respect to do as he asked me to do. Can you see? Can you understand why I had no choice? I didn’t want to do it, but it was the right thing to do for him. I did love him, Nekai. I loved you… love you too, but he had to come first in my life. If I had stayed with you, think of what might have happened. You had to become the leader of your tribe, have a son to carry on after you. If I had stayed…”

  He pushed me away and walked back to the fire pit, kneeling down to poke at the embers with a stick. I knelt beside him and reached up, brushing his hair back from his cheek.

  “Nekai, please…” I begged.

  “You hurt me, Alfred. You always hurt me when I see you. You come to hurt me again?” he asked, turning those dark, tear-filled eyes upon me. “Many people die here, my father, my friends. We fight our enemies but you, you run away and leave me, always hurt me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Nekai. I can see that you are happy now. You have a handsome, strong son who looks like you. I wanted happiness and fulfillment for you. I can see that you don’t want me here. I will go back with Alandro and Josepe in the morning, and you can forget that you ever saw me. It is enough for me just to know that you are alive and safe. I’ll go.”

  I stood up and forced myself to walk away from him yet again. My legs trembled, and my heart kept skipping beats. My bad leg was trying its best to give out, but I forced it to move, wishing I hadn’t left my cane in the boat. I ducked my head and lifted the woven mat to go through the door, hearing his voice as he spoke the final words.

  “You say you love me, but you do not know that word, Alfred. You only hurt.”

  I suppressed a sigh of agony as I walked out of the hut, resolving to keep my distance from him until the morning when we would leave, and he could forget me again. Josepe and Alandro had set up a tent a few yards from the center of the village, and I went down to them. Alandro had built a fire out front and was cooking some meat on a spit over it. I sat down on a fallen log and stretched out my sore legs toward the heat.

  “What did he say to you?” Alandro asked eagerly.

  “More or less that he does not want me here,” I replied miserably. “I will be going back with you and your father in the morning. Coming here was a mistake. I’m sorry I inconvenienced you both.”

  “Oh, it was certainly no inconvenience. I always wanted to come to the village and see my people. Father needed to reconnect with his family here, and you did pay him so much money. When we get back to Tucupita, we will be the rich ones.”

  Night fell heavily around us, and I saw no more of Nekai. After a time, his son came over and knelt beside Alandro. They spoke hesitantly to one another, and I listened desperately though I could not understand anything that they said. I glanced at the boy from time to time. He was so big for such a young man. He so reminded me of his father when Nekai had been young and innocent and not burdened with the pain he carried now.

  I wanted to ask where Nekana was. I wondered about Nekai’s wife, and if he had other children besides this boy. I longed to hear about the fights they’d had with their enemies. So many questions left unasked, so many answers still unspoken. I struggled to contain my curiosity, but it finally got the best of me. I took advantage in a lull of their conversation, to interrupt.

  “Alandro, what is the boy’s name?” I asked.

  “His name is Jose,” he answered. Jose looked up at me when he heard Alandro speak his name, and he realized that I’d asked about him. He poked at the fire and regarded me with his solemn eyes.

  “How old is he?” I asked.

  Alandro turned to Jose and asked my question for me in their language. “He is fourteen years old.”

  Jose spoke to Alandro almost earnestly, gesturing toward me from time to time. When he stopped speaking, he looked directly at me with a venomous expression.

  “Jose wants to know what happened between you and his father in the hut. He says his father is sad and angry and will not come out and talk to anyone and will not let anyone come in to talk to him. Jose says that he does not understand why you have come back. He says that his father showed him the pictures of you and your friend many times and told him your name. He recognized you from the picture because his father looks at it a lot. Jose wonders why you would come back here to make his father sad again.”

  “Tell him that I did not mean to make his father angry or sad. Tell him that I
came back because I was once friends with his father when we were younger and that I missed him very much. I wanted to know that he was alive and well. I didn’t mean to cause any pain. Please tell him that I am very sorry for any harm I’ve done. Tell him, please…” I couldn’t finish what I’d wanted to say, that I loved Nekai with all my heart. It wasn’t this boy’s place to take those words to his father. It was mine, but Nekai did not want to hear it from me.

  Alandro turned to Jose and translated my words. I sat and stared at the fire, trying to keep my despair at bay. I would not break down in front of these natives or my guides. I would hold it in check until I was safe at Tucupita. I would find a room someplace off the beaten path and give myself over to the emptiness that had claimed me. I would drink myself to death and close the last pages of my worthless life.

  Jose remained, talking with Alandro for some time, then he rose and made to walk away. When I stood to go into the tent behind me, Jose reached out and grasped my arm. I looked back at him, and I could see that he was staring at the necklace around my neck. It was the carved bear and braid of Nekai’s hair that he had made and given me so long ago. Jose reached out and touched it, whispering something in their language, then he shook his head as if in disbelief before turning away from me and disappearing into the crowd near the central fire.

  *

  The sounds of the Warao village at night surrounded me as I lay on the blankets in Josepe and Alandro’s tent. It was a large tent or else we would have been tightly packed. I could hear the thunder of the falls jarring the ground beneath me, the occasional sounds of domestic life: a cough, a crying baby in the huts around us, and the calls of night birds and other animals out prowling about nearby.

  Normally those sounds would have seemed soothing to me. I had wanted desperately to hear those sounds, thinking that I would never again hear them. Now they were a cacophony of rough noises that reminded me I would never belong here, never be a part of this paradise.