Ari blotted her eyes and apologized profusely to the chief. She wondered what Rafe had said to her in his own tongue. Whatever it was, she saw that his eyes had softened.
“Aroka says it is good to cry. He says it pleases the rain gods and goddesses.”
Sniffing and wiping her nose a final time, Ari stuffed his handkerchief into the pocket of her jeans. “Tell him that his gift is priceless to me. It will be the first orchid that I’ll try to draw. I know it won’t be any good, but I’m so inspired by its beauty.” She held it up for Rafe to observe. “Look at it! Doesn’t it seem otherworldly to you? As if it is just a visitor to our world?”
Chuckling, Rafe said, “The Indians believe that orchids are very ancient teachers to us all, if we will only sit and listen to them. As you know, orchids don’t need any soil to live or grow in. All they need—” he gestured toward the jungle and the apricot-colored clouds above them as the sun set “—is air and humidity. No other plant on the face of Mother Earth can do that. So, yes, they are special. Far more special and unique than most people suspect.”
As Ari held the orchid, she felt transported. All she wanted to do was sit quietly with this plant and communicate with it by drawing it. She knew from past experience that when she drew, she entered an altered state of consciousness. The outer world would fall away and there was only her, the colors, the textures and the scent of the orchid. It was a time she always looked forward to, as if the true gift was being able to walk across that invisible bridge of energy and light and be in communion with the spirit of the orchid itself.
“Yes,” she whispered unsteadily, “I know exactly what you mean.”
“I thought you might,” Rafe murmured. He saw a number of other Indians, all members of Aroka’s immediate family, coming down the path to greet them. “Well, I’ve got some work to do for a few minutes. Why don’t you put your new friend below, in the galley? I’ll tidy up around here and then we’ll go back with the chief and his family and have some pig for dinner.”
Overwhelmed with so much going on all at once, Ari was glad for his advice. She spoke in Spanish to Aroka and politely excused herself. He nodded, bowed and grinned, though she wasn’t sure he understood her. Scrambling up the plank, Ari was captured by the drama unfolding in the sky around them. The once white, frayed-looking cumulus clouds that haunted the jungle, hanging hundreds of feet above the triple canopy, had turned from a peach color to a deep orange hue with a fringing of crimson along their edges. The sky was no longer blue, but a soft whitish color that was quickly being chased away by inky looking darkness. Magical…yes, this place was pure magic. Ari almost thought that if she willed the clouds to change shape, they would; such was the thrumming power that swirled around her, embraced her and made her feel part of all things in this magnificent place called Amazonia.
Ari awoke slowly the next morning, her face pressed deeply into the small goose down pillow. As she moved from her stomach to her back, the light cotton sheet and thin blanket felt much too warm to her. Shoving them away, she untangled the knee-length, violet silk nightgown she wore. What time was it? From the depths of the houseboat, she heard a cricket singing its heart out. Smiling sleepily, she realized that the faint light of dawn was filtering down through the opened hatch above the wooden stairs. Looking at her watch, blinking away the sleep from her eyes, Ari saw that it was 6:00 a.m.
Groaning, she pushed herself upward. This was the first day of her life. Her life. Not her father’s, but her own. As she placed her bare feet on the cool teakwood deck, she stretched languidly and smiled. Other sounds drifted into her consciousness. Her stomach rumbled. Laughing softly, she got to her feet. She shouldn’t be hungry at all! The chief’s wife had urged her to eat and then eat some more. Everyone had poked at her ribs and told her she was too skinny, saying that in a thunderstorm, the wind goddess would carry her away. They’d all had many laughs over Ari’s thinness. And she’d dutifully eaten more than her fill. Of course, Rafe didn’t help things by agreeing with the Jumas.
What a wonderful night she’d had with Aroka and his family. She’d loved sitting outside their thatched hut, around the coals of the campfire, sharing the delicious meal of wild pig.
As Ari emerged from the toilet, she picked up her brush and ran it through the thick, golden strands of her hair. Today was the first day of her life. That awareness thrummed through her once more, quiet and yet strong and filled with brimming vibrancy. She could hardly wait to get dressed and start sketching the orchid that sat on the table across from her makeshift bed.
Climbing into a pair of jeans, a deep-pink tank top and a pair of hiking boots, Ari quickly brushed her teeth and tamed her flyaway hair into a semblance of order. She hurried up the creaking stairs, and as she emerged from the hold, she gasped. Above the quiet, muddy Amazon and the dark green jungle, the sky was alive with brilliant, swirling colors. Mouth falling open, Ari became momentarily lost in the pale peach, the deeper apricot and the fragile lavender hues near the eastern horizon, where the sun had yet to rise.
This morning the gauzy white clouds created by the constant humidity of the fertile rain forest below were like pale orange curtains languidly spreading and rippling across the light blue background. She stood, almost frozen, her hands on the rails at the top of the hatch, just allowing the colors to filter through her like nonstop energy. Lifting her chin, she closed her eyes and absorbed the other sounds—the call of birds awakening now that the sun was about to arrive. The screech of monkeys. The final croaks of nearby frogs.
Sweet scents—of orchids, she was sure—wafted into her nostrils. And then she caught another whiff, this time, of bacon and eggs and coffee. How was that possible? Opening her eyes, Ari twisted to look to her left. There, hunched over the campfire and holding a huge black skillet in hand, was Rafe. Her heart swelled. He was watching her, a soft hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his wonderfully shaped male mouth. Why was it that every time he looked at her she felt giddy, delicious and beautiful? No man had ever made her feel like that.
Leaping to the deck, Ari hurried down the plank and jogged to where he stood. “Good morning,” she whispered. “Can I do anything to help you?”
Rafe enjoyed the drowsy look in Ari’s wide blue eyes. What a change in her from yesterday! It was like night and day. She was relaxed now, and her happiness was evident in the sparkling gold flecks deep in her blue eyes, the soft, lush smile on her lips and the way she held herself. Today her shoulders weren’t as slumped. And she was able to hold eye contact with him longer.
“Good morning. No, just have a seat here.” He motioned to one of the smooth logs that doubled as a chair. “I’ve got scrambled eggs, lots of bacon and some fresh coffee ready for you.”
“I’m feeling very spoiled,” she said, laughing as she sat down. “This is wonderful! Thank you.” Rafe had placed two plastic plates with flatware on the log. There were salt and pepper shakers nearby.
Moving the bacon around with the fork over the low flame, Rafe decided that Ari was nothing like Justine. She actually enjoyed being here in his camp. The discovery was a pleasant shock to him. Setting the skillet on the coals, he rose and picked up the battered, blackened tin coffeepot. Ari handed him a tin mug. He poured the steaming, fragrant coffee into it and handed it back to her. She passed him a second one and he filled it and placed it on the log nearby.
As Ari raised the coffee to her lips, she saw large, bright red birds skimming the surface of the Amazon barely a hundred feet away. “What are those?”
Rafe turned. “Guara. Scarlet ibis. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
Gasping, she counted at least twenty of them. “Gorgeous! What a bright color against the chocolate brown of the Amazon and the deep green of the jungle.”
“Spoken like a true artist,” Rafe said with a smile as he divvied up the bacon and eggs between the two plates. “You see things in terms of color, light and hues. I like that.”
Sighing, Ari watched the unfolding of the sky
’s colors. “You’re right. I never realized that until just now. Look at the dawn. I’ve never seen anything like this anywhere. Ever.”
Rafe handed her a plate and flatware. “Get used to it. Amazonia has her own special magic that she works on those who visit her. In time, she’ll cast her spell on you, and you’ll never want to leave.” He sat down near her, but not near enough to make Ari feel uncomfortable. Setting his coffee cup on the ground next to his boot, he dug into the scrambled eggs with relish.
Sighing, Ari followed his lead. She salted her eggs, realizing once again how hungry she was. As they sat there, eating in silence, the sounds that surrounded them were melodic and caressing. Facing the slow-moving Amazon River and watching the bird population come to life as the sun broached the horizon was all Ari wanted. She saw scarlet-and-gold macaws flying rapidly from one side of the river to the other, always in that squadronlike formation. And then she saw another flight of smaller green-and-red parrots fly over their camp.
“Color…it’s everywhere,” Ari said reverently as she caught Rafe’s gaze. He was wolfing down his large breakfast. She was picking slowly at her food, too excited by all that she was absorbing into her heart and soul to eat, despite her rumbling stomach. “I know my mother would have cried to see this. I had no idea how beautiful Amazonia really is. Books can paint word pictures, but to be here, to feel her…”
He smiled a little. “Yes, it’s a her. You feel her, don’t you?”
Giving him a confused look, Ari picked up a bit of bacon and chewed thoughtfully on it. “What is it, Rafe? What’s this feeling I sense in and around me? I’ve never had this sensation before. Am I crazy? Is it my wild imagination taking off again?”
Chuckling, he picked up his coffee and took a sip. Setting it back down at his feet, he said, “No. The Indians call it onca, jaguar energy. Onca is Portuguese for Jaguar. It is said that the jaguar is the queen of the jungle and she rules it in the name of Mother Earth. Jaguar energy is said to be alive and fertile—more powerful than any other energy or animal anywhere in the world.”
“It almost feels like there’s an invisible river flowing slowly through and around me.”
Nodding, Rafe said, “Yes.”
“And everyone can feel or sense this?”
“Everyone I know does.” And then he smiled. “But then, my life is here in Amazonia, with the Indians. They are very sensitive to this energy. They can tell you when there is an onca, jaguar, nearby. Each village has a jaguar priest or priestess. There is the Jaguar Clan, which is steeped in mystery and myths that go back hundreds, thousands of years, from what I can tell from my conversations with the Indians. Information about this mysterious and powerful clan is carried down to each new generation by word of mouth. Nothing has ever been written about the clan, or the people who train to work with jaguar medicine and energy.”
Her eyes widened. “I must go get my journal. You’re telling me so many wonderful stories! I don’t want to miss a word of it, Rafe.” She quickly set her breakfast aside and trotted back to the houseboat.
Chuckling indulgently, Rafe enjoyed watching Ari. She was an excited child. Yet she moved like a lithe gazelle, or maybe one of those blue or white herons that lived in the hundreds of igarapes along the Amazon river. He felt his heart swell with so many good feelings. Putting his own plate aside, he picked up his coffee and simply enjoyed the coming dawn. He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d become without the presence of a woman, until now.
Sipping the dark, fragrant coffee, Rafe didn’t try to fool himself. He was deeply drawn to Ari, to her innocence, to her idealistic view of life and the world around her. She was an artist to her soul. He could see that in the way color affected her. The hues that changed minute by minute here in Amazonia brought so many sweet expressions to her mobile features. He found himself absorbing her wonder like a thirsty sponge. Shaking his head, he realized that the Indians would say that the onca had brought him his mate. And of course, onca mated only once, for life. Then he caught himself. That Ari could be his mate was a ridiculous thought. After the debacle with Justine, Rafe had sworn off finding a woman. He had accepted that he would always be a loner.
Life was precious to Rafe. He lived in the moment, for at any time, he could be killed by a miner or drug runner’s bullet. Every day was like a feast before him and he wanted to take full advantage of each new dawn. He normally embraced life completely, without apology or hesitation—except when it came to women. No, they were to be approached slowly and with respect.
Though Ari was someone he wanted to know more intimately, he shoved that desire aside. Completely. Still, his body ached with the ripening awareness that he wanted to touch her. What would it be like to run his fingers through the strands of her golden hair? They had felt silky and strong tangled around his fingertips yesterday. She invited his touch. Her skin was like that of a soft, ripe peach and he wanted to explore every inch of her with kisses, the lick of his tongue, indulging and losing himself in her womanly fragrance. More than anything, he felt his heart clamoring loudly to own up to his feelings about her. How could he? Ari was here to live out a dream for herself and her mother. And that was all she was here for.
Rafe heard her skipping down the plank. Lifting his head, he watched as she made her way back to where he sat. He remembered how she had hesitated earlier to come down the rickety and somewhat wobbly plank. This time she practically sailed down without apprehension. Yes, that was good. Ari was already learning to not be so afraid of the world around her. In fact, she was emboldened in her new surroundings and he knew why: he was supporting her as she stepped out of her normal, scared self, so that she could clasp life in both hands, instead.
He watched as she plopped down next to him breathless, and quickly opened her journal. Painstakingly, she took her pen, wrote down the day and the time. Silence lulled them as she began to pen the story of the onca goddess. Her handwriting was precise, with a flowery edge to it.
“I wish my handwriting was as easy to read as yours,” Rafe said. “My boss back at headquarters gripes all the time, when he gets my sweat-stained reports, that my hen scratching is like a doctor’s scrawl.”
Ari grinned. “I’m not surprised your reports are sweaty, I can feel the humidity in the air.” She lifted one hand and touched the other palm. “My hands are already damp.”
“Mmm, the humidity is usually at its highest in the morning hours. As the sun rises, it will lower. We’re in the dry season, fall, anyway, which is good if you want to sketch the orchids. Come winter, it will rain all day and night, almost nonstop. The Amazon will rise and flood out this area completely.”
“Really?” Ari looked around, impressed.
“Yes, so you’d better plan on getting most of your orchids drawn in the next three months.”
“I love the rain,” Ari said softly, returning to her journal. “I could hunt for orchids, bring them back to the houseboat and draw down below, couldn’t I?”
The thought of having her for longer than three months made him uneasy. How he wished Ari would stay that long, but the reasonable side of his nature, the pragmatic side, told him she would more than likely leave sooner rather than later. “Yes,” he said, “you could. I can string some lights above the table for you. I’ve got a small gasoline generator in the engine room that can be fired up and used on days like that. You’ll need good light to draw.”
Ari reached out, her fingers sliding along Rafe’s dark, hairy forearm. His flesh was hard and warm beneath her fingertips. She saw his eyes suddenly darken, like the sky as a storm gathered. His lips parted slightly in reaction to her unexpected touch. She couldn’t help herself, nor did she want to where Rafe was concerned. “You’re such a wonderful knight in shining armor to me.” Her voice lowered. “And you’re so thoughtful. I—I just never expected this…or you…and I feel like I’m in this wonderful, unfolding dream filled with beauty and love….”
Love. The word was like a brand burning into his heart. As
Ari softly touched his arm, an electric feeling moved wildly up through him, and Rafe could no longer think. She was so spontaneous, this wild, natural woman of his, that he was constantly caught off guard by her. He knew his heart was in danger, but he was helpless against the flow of feelings she conjured in him. Powerless in the face of her innocent affection—sweet feelings that would one day surely burn them both.
Chapter Six
Ari was just putting the finishing touches on her first orchid portrait when she heard shouts and cries from the Amazon River. Rafe had set up a small table and chair for her beneath the long, wide leaves of a two-year-old banana tree near the jungle’s edge, away from the path to the Juma village. She faced the river so that she could see all the colorful birds that were in constant flight across it. The spot provided shade as well as privacy, and she had wanted to be alone to draw. But she was glad she was close enough to where Rafe performed his daily activities. Putting her colored pencil aside, Ari raised her chin toward the sounds coming from the camp.
She could see three dugout canoes coming into the igarape. Rafe emerged from the houseboat and lifted his hand in greeting as he spoke in the Indian language to the men in loincloths, who paddled their canoes to the bank in order to disembark. Like all the Indians Ari had met so far, these men were very short compared to Rafe, who towered over them.
With a sigh, she thought about all that she’d encountered in the seven days since coming to Amazonia. Her life had slowed down to vivid moments with animals, visits with the Indian people or hours drawing her first orchid for the book. More than anything, Ari admitted to herself, Rafe’s constant company was what she desired. She derived great pleasure in watching him work, whether he was talking with the Indian leaders constantly coming and going from his campsite, or wrestling with a mountain of paperwork, which, he admitted, he hated doing.
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