Ann coughed again and pressed her hand to her chest. The orchids were red and yellow. They had a distinctive light vanilla fragrance that wafted toward her.
Frowning, Mike took his seat. “You don’t like orchids?”
“Well…” Ann murmured with a shake of her head, “this is weird. Just too synchronistic.” Taking her gold linen napkin, she spread it across her thighs. The spicy odor of the food before her was making her salivate.
“What’s weird?” Mike lifted a forkful of the food into his mouth. He saw a very puzzled expression on Ann’s face as she continued to stare at the orchids. “Are you allergic to orchids? Is that it?”
She waved her hand nervously. “Uh, no…no.”
Chewing his food thoughtfully, he planted both elbows on the table and tapped her plate with his fork. “You act like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Come on, eat before you get any skinnier and I lose you to a stiff breeze.”
Ann fumbled around and found the fork. “I just dreamed about these very same orchids,” she muttered as she looked, for the first time, down at the colorful meal on her plate.
“Yeah?” Mike smiled, suddenly feeling very pleased over that. “A good dream, I hope?”
Ann moved the food around on her plate and refused to look at him. “Maybe it’s jet lag,” she groused, “or maybe it’s this mystical place. Or you. I don’t know….”
“You’re muttering again, Doctor,” he teased, eating voraciously. “Come on, dig in. I’m a pretty good cook, as you well know.” He had usually made lunch and dinner for them at the ranch in Arizona.
Ann set the fork down and reached out for the spray of orchids. The petals felt firm and waxy beneath her fingertips. They were a bright yellow, the inner lip red. Very red. The entire shape of the orchid reminded Ann of a woman with her thighs open and beckoning. Flushing heatedly over the unexpected thought, she quickly pulled her fingers from the flower and forced herself to pick up the fork again.
“Why did you bring orchids?” she demanded.
“Well, uh, just on a whim, that’s all.” Mike watched her scowl deepen. “You don’t like flowers?”
“Yes,” Ann said, “I like flowers.” She forced the food into her mouth. It was surprisingly delicious. “What is this?”
“The meal?” He saw the surprise in her expression. Relieved that she’d momentarily forgotten her obvious upset over his bringing flowers, he was glad to talk about the food instead. “Huevos rancheros, Peruvian style.” He grinned a little and pointed out the green peppers, onions and fresh tomatoes among the egg mixture. “What really makes them special is adding ginger.”
“They’re good,” she exclaimed, suddenly famished.
He preened. “Thanks.”
For whatever reason, her five senses were more fully engaged than she’d ever been aware of before. It was a wonderful discovery. Odors were sharper, more distinctive. The taste buds on her tongue delectably felt each ingredient and texture. It had to be because she was with Mike, she thought. That was the only explanation for it.
A silence fell over them. It wasn’t stilted and Mike was glad of that. Every once in a while, Ann would look at those orchids with a wary, unsettled and confused look. Maybe later she’d share why. Right now, all he wanted her to do was eat.
When the main course was finished, Mike went to the counter and made them more espresso. He brought out a coffee cake smothered in chopped brazil nuts and slathered with thick, sweet caramel, and sat down once more.
“Here in Peru people serve seven courses at every meal. I took pity on you and decided eggs and dessert would be enough to introduce you to our way of living down here.”
She smiled a little and took a bite of her cake, which melted in her mouth. “I’m glad someone has some mercy. That was very kind of you to do all of this, Mike. I feel so pampered.” She looked up to see his blue gaze growing sad. Why? And just as quickly, that look disappeared from his countenance. “No one has ever done this for me. Espresso before a shower…” She sighed and rewarded him with a soft, warm smile of gratitude.
Houston reached over and gripped her fingers momentarily. “You deserve to be pampered. Spoiled, in fact.” Something in him sensed that Ann had had a very hard life. Now was not the time to speak of that, either. Mike felt frustration curdling deep within him. Time was their enemy right now. He couldn’t stay much longer. He couldn’t risk Ann being killed because of him. “I’m going to do it every chance I get,” he promised her huskily.
Heat swept up her cheeks and Ann laughed a little shyly. She touched her face. “I feel like a teenager, not a thirty-two-year-old woman. I keep thinking it’s this place—the mystery, the magic…. Like you said earlier at the airport, the way Peruseduces its visitors….”
He nodded and released her fingers, even though he didn’t want to. “There is mystery and magic here,” he conceded quietly, “and Indians believe in the mysticism and spirituality of this country, too.”
She sobered a little. “I feel out of place here and yet, irrationally, I feel as if I belong, too.” She managed a grimace. “Bane of a psychiatrist, you know? The head and eyes see something and look for matter-of-fact explanations about life, but this heart of mine is responding to you, to this country, and it is not rational at all….”
He regarded her gently. “Maybe the good doctor is climbing out of her head and into her heart? Peru is about passion, emotions, and yes, the magic and mystery of life and all its incredible and sometimes unexplainable facets.” He saw Ann’s eyes widen beautifully. Tears glimmered in their depths momentarily and then she forced them away. “I…” He searched for words. “What you’re discovering, Ann, is something so special and rare that it scares the hell out of you. The mystery of life isn’t so easily explained by weighing, measuring or seeing it with your eyes. Peru is probably more mystical and spiritual than any place you’ve been before. Right now, you’re doing some major adjusting to her…but if you surrender to her seduction, you’ll find out so much more about yourself, your own heart and what really makes you passionate, what makes you want to live your life to the fullest—” He stopped abruptly.
Touched, Ann nodded. “I’m beginning to understand a lot of things about myself of late….”
“Yeah?” He smiled slightly. “Really?”
“Oh, yes.” Ann sighed. She set her plate aside. “I was just too scared to admit it to myself, Mike—or to you—until…well, just lately. I guess I’m still getting used to it all. I’m glad we have the time down here, because I need it.”
Houston rankled at the word we. He felt as if he was on the edge of a razor-sharp sword and no matter what he did, or how finely he tried to walk the lines with Ann, he was going to wound her. It was the last thing he wanted.
Hesitating, Ann whispered, “I know what I feel for you is special, Mike. I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”
Hope and fear sheared violently through him. He felt the depth of her admission all the way to his soul. “Keep your distance from me,” he muttered a little self-consciously. “I’m not worth it, Ann. Anyone who gets near me is in danger. I don’t want to put you in that spot.” Yet he admitted with anguish that he was inevitably heading somewhere with her he’d never been before. All Houston could do was shake his head in awe of the power of his need for Ann. Something so deep, so healing was occurring within him that he couldn’t yet put a handle on it, give it a name or even begin to understand the implications of falling hopelessly, helplessly for her. He felt like a child in that moment, innocent and full of hope. And that was the last thing he should be feeling in his circumstances.
Ann nodded and reached out and covered his hand with her own. “Danger to my heart?” she offered softly. “I feel like a green teenager again, dumb, inexperienced….” She laughed awkwardly. She was powerfully attracted to a man of complete mystery.
Mike sensed her discomfort. He raised her hand and kissed the back of it, holding her uncertain gaze. “Never dumb,” he told her. �
�Just because we’re feeling things we’ve never felt with another human being before doesn’t make us dumb. Just…” he smiled a little “…inexperienced. Most of the time I feel like I’m walking on clouds, not Mother Earth, when I think of you. When I picture your face, querida, my heart opens up like one of those orchids and I feel this warmth wash through me like the Amazon flooding in springtime. It steals my breath and all I can do is feel. And feel some more…” Mike reluctantly released her hand. Perhaps it was the powerful spirit of love he was feeling toward Ann. That realization scared him deeply. In light of his past, there was no way he could surrender to it—or to her.
Ann stared at the orchids for a moment and then studied him in the tender silence stretching between them. “I’m scared, Mike, but I’m not going to run this time. I’m committed to going wherever this crazy relationship of ours is heading.” She touched the orchid tentatively.
Sadness moved through him. Ann had more courage than he did. She truly didn’t realize how dangerous caring for him could be. He hated himself in that moment—his life and his commitment to the people of Peru. The price he paid was high. Right now, he felt as if it was too high, but there was no way he could turn back, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to allow Ann into his world. He had to protect her and her heart at all costs. Trying to change the subject, he said, “It’s the flowers, isn’t it?”
With a slight smile, Ann whispered, “Maybe…perhaps they are part of the magic and mystery of Peru? These orchids are special, aren’t they?” She fingered the waxy petals thoughtfully.
Sighing, Houston shrugged his broad shoulders. “I couldn’t help myself,” he admitted. “Well, I guess I could have. There’s a story to them. Right outside the grocery store this little old Quechua Indian woman has her orchid stand. She’s probably in her eighties, all bent over, shivering in the morning air. I know how hard it is to get orchids, although they grow everywhere here in Peru. This is how she makes her living, to get enough food daily. I stopped and asked her what her most expensive orchid was. She studied me and asked me who was I buying them for. I told her it was for a beautiful norteamericana doctor. She cackled and then reached up to the top shelf of her little stand and brought down this spray of orchids. She said that you needed this particular flower.”
Ann tilted her head, lulled by his wonderful storytelling abilities. Mike’s face was open for her to examine and she began to realize how completely vulnerable he was with her. There was no hint of the pretense she’d seen in his face during those eight weeks in Arizona. None. It was as if she was meeting the same man all over again, only he was different—and far more provocative to her as a woman. It made her feel a fierce need of him.
“She said I needed this orchid?” Ann asked.
Chuckling, Mike finished off his coffee cake and pushed the white saucer to one side. “Yeah, she did. Now, this old lady wasn’t just some bag lady on the streets, you know. She wore a leather thong around her neck, with a tuft of black-and-gold hair hanging from it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Quechua Indians have a Jaguar Clan, made up of priests and priestesses. These are people who, from childhood on, are recognized as being one with the spirit of the jaguar. They’re trained by the medicine man or woman of their village to carry on the sacred and secret ceremonies associated with the jaguar. Those who pass all the tests—and most don’t—get to wear jaguar fur as their badge of honor and courage.”
“But what does this all mean? And what does it have to do with these orchids?”
“Patience,” he soothed. “Every story that’s worth telling shouldn’t be chopped up or hurried along.” Mike leaned back and tipped the front legs of his chair off the tile floor. His voice was filled with satisfaction. “The jaguar is considered the most powerful of all animal spirits in South America. If a person is able to survive the physical experience of meeting a jaguar in the wild, there’s an exchange that takes place between them. The jaguar trades his or her spirit with the student in training. If all goes right, their spirits are forever linked after that. The student passes the last and final test, and then he or she becomes a healer, the most powerful of all healers in South America.”
“Because,” Ann suggested, “the jaguar somehow bestows on them this power? Is that right?” She noticed the amusement in Mike’s eyes. Ann wasn’t sure whether he was spinning another tale or telling the truth. She had to admit she loved listening to his unfolding story.
He held up his hand. “There’s a lot more to it than I’m telling you, but basically, the power of the jaguar’s spirit can be used for ultimate good or ultimate evil. If a person manages to survive their experience with a live, wild jaguar and gets the ‘trade,’ then they are known as a healer. If they don’t, and use it for personal power, selfishness or manipulation of others, they are known as a sorcerer.
“The old woman with the orchids was a healer from the Jaguar Clan. Such people are well known for their psychic ability. It’s said that they know what we are thinking and feeling. They walk into our dreams and send us messages, good or bad, sometimes as a warning of some kind. That’s the power of the jaguar. He’s most powerful at night. That’s his kingdom and he is the lord of the jungle when the sun goes down. He’s feared by four-leggeds and two-leggeds alike. So…” Mike gave Ann a brief smile “…I think she intuited something when she gave me the orchids, because they weren’t the most expensive ones she had. I knew that, and I paid her twice what they were worth because something good, something healing, had gone down between us in that exchange and healers deserve to be paid for their services.”
With a shake of her head, Ann whispered, “This is so weird…. I had a dream just before you came and these orchids, the very same ones, with the same fragrance, were in it….”
“Want to tell me about it?”
Flushing furiously, Ann jerked her hand away from the orchid and muttered, “No.”
Mike tried to hide his disappointment. “You’ll probably get a lot of stories, legends and myths from my granny nuns while you’re down here. Everything is steeped in a tale, you know—the truth, B.S. and everything in between. Discernment is the operative word here.”
“Still,” Ann said, relieved that Mike wasn’t going to press her about her very torrid dream, “stories are connections with archetypes, truth and symbols. They shouldn’t be lightly dismissed.”
Mike nodded sagely and smiled a little. Ann was flushing to the roots of her hair and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was like a little girl, extremely shy and embarrassed—totally unlike her. Hmm, that old jaguar priestess knew what she was doing, all right. He laughed delightedly to himself. It was obvious Ann was struggling to use her cold, hard, left-brain logic, but in Peru, in South America, one should leave that part of the brain at home.
No, down here the mysterious right brain was what grasped all the unexplained and inexplicable happenings every day. Ann was a psychiatrist and she was going to have a tough time dealing with that, Mike could see. She kept looking at those orchids and then retreating deep within herself. He could feel her wanting to run and hide from something. But what?
Chapter 6
Houston felt his heart squeeze in his chest as he glanced at his watch. It was well past time for him to leave. He was putting Ann in danger by staying so long. Easing the chair back down to four legs, he removed the plates from in front of them. Somberly, he held her gaze and said, “There are some things I need to tell you, Ann…before, well…so you understand why I’m not worth your time or trouble.” Shrugging almost painfully, he said, “I wanted to tell you before we left Arizona, but it wasn’t the right time. Then, when we got here, I wanted you to get a good night’s sleep under your belt before I talked to you.”
Ann saw Mike’s expression suddenly become serious, the darkness in his eyes and the slashes on either side of his mouth underscoring what he was going to say. “All right,” she said tentatively, “I’m listening.”
“You probably
thought I worked here in Lima most of the time and that I’d be over to the clinic on a pretty regular basis. Right?”
She nodded. “So…you’re not going to be at the clinic that often?” Ann felt disappointment in her heart when he nodded. As she watched Mike take his seat again, folding his hands in front of him, she felt a cloak of sadness and fear blanketing her. She realized those feelings were coming from Mike. Shaken that she could sense his emotions so strongly, she found her heart thudding.
“I won’t be there very often. I keep in touch with my granny nuns via one of my soldiers, mostly. The last thing I want is to have Escovar’s men come crashing into the clinic, murdering everyone in cold blood because they think they’re going to find me there.” His mouth became a thin line. “Ann, I’ve got the blood of enough people I loved on my conscience already.” He looked at her squarely. “I don’t want any more.”
She felt his pain and heard it in the rawness of his voice. He looked lost in his memories for the moment and she guessed he was reliving flashbacks of friends who had died while fighting the drug lords. “Losing your men in battle is a terrible thing,” she agreed quietly. “They’re our extended family. People we care about and want to keep safe even if we know it’s an impossibility.”
Houston looked down at his heavily scarred hands. “I lost my parents, the woman I loved and my unborn son to Eduardo Escovar.”
Ann gasped and felt a ripping sensation in her heart. Houston looked at her, his eyes shadowed.
“H-how terrible….” she managed to whisper, automatically placing her hand against the column of her throat, where a lump of grief was forming for him, for his awful loss.
His mouth twisted savagely. “When it happened, I was half-crazed and in shock over it. Loco with grief, they said at the barracks. I took my best squad out with me and we hit Escovar’s men hard. So hard that we stood up to our ankles in blood when it was all over. Originally, I’d wanted to land at his compound. No one had ever done that because it’s so heavily fortified—part ammo dump, part heavy-duty artillery and aircraft rockets. Luckily, my sergeant talked me out of that plan, in favor of a second, less dangerous one.”
Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar Page 12