by Carmen Amato
“I don’t know,” Eddo said. He didn’t move his head. It was nearly in Luz’s lap. “Looks ridiculous, doesn’t it.”
“No, not ridiculous,” she said, suddenly very conscious that she was touching him and that he was shirtless. “I’m glad you showed me.”
“And this.” Eddo indicated his left collarbone and Luz saw a bump there.
She fingered the bump then slid her hand back to the silver hairs.
That was where she’d held the cold pack when he told her the day they’d spent together had been the best day of his life.
Very slowly, Luz took her hand away from his head, gathered up the edge of her tee shirt and lifted it just high enough for him to see.
Eddo dropped to his knees to be eye level with the scar. He ran his fingertips over its length.
“Well,” he said. “That’s impressive all right. They didn’t do a very good job of sewing you up, did they?”
“They did at first,” Luz said, her voice thick with nerves. “In the hospital. But when the doctor at the free clinic took out the stitches it didn’t hold together.”
She tried to pull down the tee but Eddo began to massage the scar and the skin around it. “Have you been putting anything on it?” he asked.
“No.”
“Taking vitamin C?”
“No.” She watched with stunned fascination as he rubbed her skin. His biceps flexed and she could see the veins in his arms.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Luz,” Eddo said very quietly.
“No.” Luz held her breath as his hand came dangerously close to her bra.
“If you don’t want to come to San Miguel, I understand.” He had both hands on her now, still rubbing gently. “I know I don’t deserve five minutes of your time. But don’t let it be because of this. Madre de Dios, it makes me want you more, not less. Whatever I can do to make things right between us, Luz, I swear to the Virgin that whatever--.”
Luz yanked off her shirt.
'
There was a blurred passage to the bedroom and a wild fumble for a condom. They came together swiftly, almost savagely. Luz dug her fingers into Eddo’s back, pulling him to her, leaving her mark on his skin. She wanted to consume him, devour him, swallow him in great gulps. He ran his tongue over her breasts and she cried out.
And then he was inside her, a fire igniting her from the inside out. The mattress keened beneath them as they rolled across the bed, Luz’s knees clenched around Eddo’s ribs. His arms were like steel around her shoulders, his hands buried in her hair and their mouths locked together.
Luz ended up on top. Eddo pushed her upright and thumbed her just where their bodies were joined. The climax came before her mind was ready for it and she screamed and convulsed in surprise, riding him through the explosion.
Eddo flipped Luz over as the spasms rocked her. He thrust in and out rapidly, panting hoarsely, his body rigid with need. Luz scraped her nails up his sides and he shuddered. When his climax came Eddo’s body jerked, nearly lifting her off the bed. He groaned and bowed away from her and snapped his head back. Luz fought for air as she felt him jerk again and again.
The jerking slowed, then stopped. Eddo grabbed her side and rolled them a quarter turn so that he wouldn’t collapse on top of her. They lay tangled together, damp with sweat, chests heaving.
“Madre de Dios,” Eddo said huskily. He kissed her palm. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Eddo slid out of her, keeping the condom in place. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Luz watched as he staggered to the bathroom. As she heard the water run she started to cry, tears of relief and joy and emotional exhaustion coursing down her cheeks. She felt the connection around her heart again; the thread she’d thought was gone forever.
“Hey, hey, what’s this?” Eddo came back into the bedroom and touched her wet cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Ah, corazón, you’re exhausted,” he said, his voice full of self-reproach.
“No. It’s just . . .” Luz gulped around her tears. “I kept telling myself that just knowing you were alive was enough. But it wasn’t.”
“I know, corazón. I know.”
Eddo made her get under the covers. He crawled in with her and kissed her tears and called her Kagemusha until Luz laughed and knew she’d cried enough for one day.
Chapter 60
Tuesday morning Luz stood on the porch of the long white ranch house that the hotel manager had somewhat optimistically called a villa, but which probably had been the foreman’s house when the hotel property was a working hacienda. The mountain air was crisp and cool and smelled like grass and freedom. She wore skinny black jeans, a pink cashmere turtleneck, Camper walking shoes, Ray-Ban sunglasses, a belted black alpaca sweater coat from Peru, and an array of Dior cosmetics. Her hair was pulled back with a beaded Swarovski clip and a pink suede DKNY purse hung from her shoulder.
Beyond the circular drive in front of the house, across a dirt road that turned to paving closer to the main hotel complex, a huge field of cut grass stretched all the way to a rocky hillside that continued in an irregular line to the right and was punctuated by a line of cypress trees standing tall and thin in the sunlight. If Luz squinted, she could just make out the topmost spires of the cathedral called La Parroquia, nearly hidden by a second line of cypress trees on top of the hill.
Monday had been a day of wonder. Eddo had woken her with a cup of gritty slurry he said was coffee and they’d made love gently, easing past the raw emotion of the previous night. At the Liverpool store in Polanco he’d ignored her agitated protests and bought her one of everything, including a new cell phone she used to call Señora Velasquez and leave a message. They’d gotten to San Miguel de Allende in time to check in, wander the town, and find some dinner. She’d fallen asleep in his arms in front of the living room fire.
Eddo came out of the house and kissed the back of her neck. “Almost Valencia, eh, Jimena?”
Luz leaned into him. “It’s perfect, Rodrigo. Thank you again.”
It took them ten minutes to walk to the main hotel complex and another ten to climb the hilly, cobbled streets to the paved plaza called El Jardin in the center of San Miguel.
Up close La Parroquia was small, but majestic and Gothic nonetheless. It dominated one side of El Jardin. It was flanked by an ornate museum building. Outdoor cafés did a brisk business along the other sides of the plaza. Women sold flowers from baskets to the café patrons, while street hawkers sold balloons and simple children’s pull toys.
They cruised the art galleries and shops and had lunch in an expensive Italian restaurant. Luz reveled in every new sight and taste.
After lunch they found a bench in front of La Parroquia. Luz got out her sketchpad and pencil box while Eddo bought a newspaper and took out a pair of reading glasses. He was soon engrossed in the sports pages.
Luz drew La Parroquia swiftly, feeling the town’s happy energy guide her. She elongated the spires, thin lines delineating the stone blocks, the pointed arches reaching to heaven. She placed La Parroquia in a blue sea with a tiny boat in the foreground. A man and a woman rowed toward the church. Luz smiled to herself as she put a tiny heart atop the church’s tallest spire.
“A boat.” Eddo put down his newspaper and stared at the drawing.
“What?”
Before Eddo could answer, they realized a tall woman was standing nearby, her head cocked to see the sketchpad. The woman was probably in her late fifties, wearing an expensive mauve tweed coat over a matching dress. She had a perfect coif of auburn hair.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the woman said in excellent, albeit accented, Spanish. “But it’s very good. Very clever.”
“Thank you,” Luz said.
“Do you work in oils?”
“Yes.”
“Are you represented?”
Luz’s eyes flicked to Eddo; she wasn’t sure what
the woman meant.
“Not yet,” Eddo answered. “Is your interest professional or personal?”
The woman’s name was Elaine Ralston and she owned art galleries in New York City and Dallas. A third in San Miguel would open in time for the summer tourism season.
“If you could do it in oils,” Elaine Ralston said. “I’d like to see it.”
They made an appointment to bring Luz’s artwork to her on Thursday afternoon. Elaine Ralston gave Eddo her card and walked on.
“Do you think she was serious?” Luz asked.
Eddo grinned. “Let’s go get you some paint.”
Chapter 61
Something clicked for Eddo when he saw Luz’s drawing. The way Gomez Mazzo and his bodyguards were so accustomed to the roll and pitch of a boat at sea. The lights that turned on in the shadowy yacht anchored outside the Amador Causeway marina at just the right time. Why no one ever saw El Toro in Mexico.
The asshole lived on a fucking yacht.
Wednesday morning, while Luz painted in the living room, Eddo went into the bedroom and called Tomás and Vasco. Surely someone would know how to track down a yacht. After a round of texts they agreed that Vasco would talk to Fonseca, then call Panama City and see what type of records they could get.
Damned if he didn’t fall asleep after that. Right in the middle of the day. Eddo woke to find his cell phone plugged into the charger, his reading glasses on the bedside table, and a blanket over him. Twilight gilded the trees outside the window and the old ranch house smelled like fresh coffee.
He wandered barefoot into the living room. Luz was working on her canvases at the table. He got a cup of coffee and sat in the big rocking chair to watch her, still amazed that he’d found her and that she was here with him. She’d lost that broken bird look and in its place was the alluring mix of physical presence, creative energy, and shy radiance that had so attracted him in October. Plus her sense of humor. And intelligence. Everything about her.
The three small canvases on the table looked fantastic to him, but Luz rolled her eyes when he said so and continued to dab at one with a tiny brush. The paints had come in a big rosewood box, which she seemed to think was better than gold, and it was open now, with the tubes of paint and brushes arranged in an orderly fashion. Eddo found himself smiling just to see her work, until he wondered if he was making her self-conscious. He put his mug in the kitchen, kissed the back of her neck, and said he’d go find them some dinner.
He drove to the center of town and poked around the shops. There was a great leather place where he found her a small clutch bag and a serape fabric suitcase with leather trim. In another shop he picked up a sheer embroidered rebozo shawl. A pendant necklace in a jeweler’s window caught his eye. A clever twist of silver joined a cherry-sized nugget of turquoise to a polished oval amethyst.
It was dark when he got back with his purchases and jamón serrano sandwiches on thick chupata rolls and an assortment of salads. Luz had finished painting. They ate on the floor, the table still occupied by wet canvases. As always they talked about everything and anything. Laughter came more easily with Luz than with anyone else.
Eddo waited until she had finished eating then gave her the things he’d bought, saving the jeweler’s box for last. “Happy birthday, Jimena,” he said.
Luz shook her head. “You’ve bought me too much already.”
“Birthday presents don’t count.”
She opened the box and gasped.
“Dios mio, dios mio,” Luz stammered. “I can’t accept this. It’s too expensive.”
Eddo clasped the pendant around her neck. “Two rules for you, Luz. Number one, don’t argue money with me. I’ll let you know if we run out. Number two; don’t ever steal anything else out of government offices.”
She came to him that night naked except for the stones gleaming against her skin, sweet shyness and open desire on her face at the same time. He was mesmerized. Their lovemaking was a complete fusion, demanding everything he had.
Eddo could barely move when it was over. He lay on his side facing her and tangled his fingers in her thick black hair. The silver chain of the necklace twinkled in the moonlight streaming in from the window. Luz’s skin looked like bronze.
“Would you ever dye your hair blonde?” he asked sleepily.
She traced his mouth with her fingertips. “No. It would be too fake.”
He wanted to say good, stay just the way you are but he was too tired. Luz detached his hand from her hair and tucked his fingers under her cheek. Eddo fell asleep to the rhythm of her breathing.
Chapter 62
Luz put on new jeans and a silk sweater then tidied the dresser top while Eddo shaved and took a shower. The appointment with Elaine Ralston was at 2:00 pm, leaving her five hours to vibrate nervously.
Eddo’s duffel was open, clothes spilling out of it. More clothes were on the floor, sorted into overlapping piles; “definitely clean,” “probably clean,” and a damp mash of soccer shorts, sweaty tee shirts, and muddy cleats. He’d worked out every morning, running drills with a ball up and down the field. Agile and fast, he’d probably been a spectacular player in his youth.
She prodded a dirty mound with her toe. After years of making sure everything around her was in its place, the mess gnawed at her. She went over to the clean pile, picked up a tee shirt and started to fold it neatly, just like she’d folded Señor Vega’s shirts. Halfway through she stopped, uncomfortably conscious that this was what she’d be doing if she was Eddo’s maid.
Luz sat down on the bed, confused and a little afraid. Why had she thought to fold his clothes? Is that how she thought of herself? As his muchacha with a few extras?
Eddo walked out of the bathroom naked, toweling his hair. “Do you want to walk into town for breakfast?” he asked. “Or try the hotel restaurant?”
Luz didn’t reply.
“What’s up?” Eddo wrapped the towel around his hips.
“I was wondering,” Luz said, knowing she was starting a conversation she’d regret. “If you would like me to . . . take care of . . . your stuff.” She gestured stiffly at the duffel. “Fold your things. And all.”
“Ahhh,” Eddo said slowly. He sat next to her on the edge of the bed, his shoulder pressing against hers. “I think we’re going to have a moment here.”
Luz sat very still. “I guess.”
“We have to make a third rule for you,” Eddo said deliberately, like a teacher. “No, you may not fold my stuff. You’re not my maid or my mother. I don’t expect you to act like either.” He looked at the piles of clothes on the floor. “I’m usually organized. But rarely neat. Especially where clothes are concerned.” He shrugged. “I’ll admit to being spoiled. There’s always been someone around to take care of my laundry. But it’s not ever going to be you.”
Luz took a deep breath and squeezed her hands between her knees. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “I can’t fold your clothes. And I can’t stop you from spending too much money.”
“And you can’t steal things out of government offices in the middle of the night.”
“All right,” Luz said, unable to quit while she was ahead. “What are the rules for you?”
“No rules for me,” Eddo said easily. “Just my job taking care of you.”
“No.” Luz shook her head and looked away. She should shut her mouth, just enjoy his generosity but it wasn’t right. The inequality in their relationship was too much to ignore. “You’ve given me a wonderful week in San Miguel, you buy me everything you see. I wouldn’t have sold that painting on Sunday or be going to see Elaine Ralston and you won’t even let me fold your clothes. I’m just taking. It doesn’t feel right.”
“What are you talking about, Luz?” Eddo said.
“You know,” Luz said miserably.
“You’re saying that you don’t contribute?”
“Yes.” She had only herself to blame if he said hey you’re right, it’s all too one-sided, glad to know where we
stand, here’s a bus ticket back--.
“You saved my life twice, corazón,” Eddo said. “With your sketches of those men. And in October. I’d say that’s a pretty big contribution.”
“October?” Luz blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Eddo leaned forward, elbows on thighs. “I spent the Saturday night before we met with a bottle of tequila and my gun. I’d respected Hugo, thought he was a good man. But he wasn’t and I had to tell the president. I’d never felt so shitty.”
Luz couldn’t quite see his expression. He was staring straight ahead.
“Sunday morning it was get out or shoot myself. I hadn’t meant to go to the Tamayo. I just found a parking place there.” Eddo swallowed. “You were sitting . . . so . . . calmly. That pink sweater. It was like seeing a rose in the desert.”
The room was oddly quiet. No morning birds or crickets sounded outside the window.
“El Toro is still out there,” Eddo went on. “Thinking I’m in his pocket.”
“Stop it, Rodrigo,” Luz said. She could tell that his dreams were sometimes a heavy burden, but that he could not let them go and watch the country go to pieces. “You’ll catch him.”
Eddo looked at her curiously. “I don’t always have to be strong with you, do I?”
“You’re always strong,” Luz said. “You just get tired sometimes.”
Eddo looked away.
“This is what you give me,” he said after a long silence. “Stillness. Or calm. I don’t know what it is exactly but I’ve been feeling like a greedy bastard taking all that I can get out of you.”
Luz’s heart banged with emotion and surprise.
“I’ve been like a metal spring wound too tight.” Eddo went on. “Always tighter and tighter, not knowing what to do, just sort of waiting for the spring to break. For years.” He stared at the messy duffel and the piles of clothes. “But all this week, you’ve been unwinding it, a little more each day. I even took a nap yesterday. You don’t know what that means to me.”