by JoAnn Ross
"But—"
"Dying is a perfectly natural life-cycle stage, Daughter," Jordan insisted. "Actually, from the moment I found out, I was trying to think of a way to spare you the burden of sitting helplessly by while I left this planet. When I learned of the map's existence, it seemed as if I'd been miraculously handed a logical solution."
"I could find the city and spend the rest of the short time I have left learning everything I could about these people. Or I could die somewhere out there in the jungle. Either alternative was far more appealing than wasting away in some hospital bed, watching you suffer more each day as modern science dragged out the inevitable process of dying."
Davina's tear-filled eyes shot angry sparks. She welcomed the anger, finding it worlds more bearable than the pain. "You wanted to spare me? Damn you! What right did you have to make such a decision on your own? Don't you think I've been going crazy, worrying about you all these months? Spare me?"
She wanted to pound her fists against his chest until he was hurting as badly as she was at this moment. She hated him for remaining calm while she was not. "You're my father! Of course I would have wanted to be with you."
Jordan maintained his collected demeanor during her outburst, eyeing her with solemn interest. "Do you know, Davina, dear," he said finally, gently, when she stopped to drink in great gulps of air, "there are times you resemble your mother so strongly I find it difficult to remember that she's actually been gone all these years. She, too, was a beautiful, passionate woman."
He shook his head. "God, how I miss her," he said under his breath, turning away so Sam and Davina couldn't view the suspicious moisture suddenly brimming in his eyes.
When he turned back, his voice was steadier, his gaze clear. "Unfortunately I tire easily these days, and to be perfectly honest, this reunion has been rather stressful, I'm afraid, for all of us. If you and Samuel don't mind, I'll take you to my quarters. You can wash up while I take a brief nap before briefing the chief on your arrival. Then tonight, over dinner, I'll introduce you to these marvelous people."
13
As they walked across the compound, they drew several interested stares, but Davina suspected it was her father's presence that allowed them to move unmolested. She was still having a hard time believing that her father had been safe all this time.
Still more incredible to her was the fact that he'd purposely misled not only his friends and colleagues but his daughter, as well. Although it was disturbing to discover that her father was not the paragon she had always thought him to be, if there was anything that this time with Sam had taught her, it was that people didn't belong on pedestals.
Before long they reached a two-story building in the central acropolis. Above the doorway a stucco head of the jaguar god proclaimed divine protection for all those who dwelt within.
"I live with the leader of these people," Jordan explained. "Sun Jaguar." As Davina hesitated in the doorway, he gave her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, you'll be perfectly safe."
The walls of the home were made of facing stone, slanted toward each other in a way that formed a corbeled vault, a hallmark of the Classic Maya. A huge bird mask of papier-mâché and feathers hung on one of the walls, next to a spotted jaguar skin. As they entered, a woman, whom Jordan explained to be a servant, stared openly at Davina.
"It's your eyes," he explained. "You'll have to be prepared for a few startled reactions; they're exactly the color of yax."
Yax: the center of the universe. The blue-green color of jade, water, new corn—all the things the Maya held sacred. They were also the same shade as Jordan Lowell's eyes. Davina began to understand why her father had been granted admission to his secret society.
A moment later two other men entered the room, followed by what appeared to be an armed contingent of royal guards. Davina's blood turned cold.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, staring at the all-too-familiar grim-faced Indian with the midnight-black eyes.
Her hand had turned to ice in his. Following her gaze, Sam squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "I take it that's him?"
As her eyes locked on to the harsh face of the man who had tried to kill her not once but twice Davina could only nod.
Sam's free hand moved instinctively to the pistol in his belt. It was all he could do not to shoot the bastard where he stood.
Davina, feeling Sam go rigid beside her, risked a glance upward at his face. His eyes burned with a brilliant flame. "Please don't," she whispered desperately. "Look at them, Sam; you'd never get away alive."
Sam barely heard her. All his attention, all his emotion, was riveted on the face of the man who, because of his attacks on Davina, had become his sworn enemy. After he had survived the jaguar assault Sam had vowed that if he ever came face-to-face with this man, he'd kill him. Coldly, deliberately. He had allowed a steely, bitter anger to simmer inside himself, keeping his resolve alive, his determination strong.
But now, as much as he wanted revenge, he couldn't quite make his hand pull the pistol from his belt. Sam wondered if the man he'd been only weeks before would have been capable of murder and decided that he possibly might have been. But now, as his dangerous eyes locked with the challenging dark ones of the Indian, he knew that such an act, though it might provide a certain visceral satisfaction, would solve nothing—except, perhaps, to put Davina in even graver danger.
Continuing to hold the attempted assassin's gaze with the strength of his will, Sam slowly, deliberately, dropped his hand to his side.
"Thank God," Davina breathed, closing her eyes for a long, thoughtful moment. "Oh, thank God."
The brief exchange had been fraught with electricity, and even Jordan, poor as he was at reading human emotions, could not have missed either the stark fear stamped on his daughter's face or the fury that had come over Sam's features.
"Sam," he asked quietly, "what's wrong?"
In a few taut words, Sam explained about the attempts on Davina's life. To her father's credit, Jordan blanched visibly when Sam got to the jaguar story. Then, his turquoise eyes flashing with an anger every bit as intense as Sam's when he found himself confronted with Davina's attacker, Jordan turned toward the man whose headdress revealed him to be the Sun Jaguar chief.
Jordan and the chief exchanged a few words before the latter turned to his companion. Neither Sam nor Davina could understand the following exchange, but to their amazement, Davina's attacker seemed to visibly shrink in stature as he was given what could only be a severe tongue-lashing. Moments later the two men left the room, followed by the contingent of guards.
"The man who attacked you is an overly zealous priest, intent on protecting the people from intruders," Jordan explained at length. The protective parent warred with the remote scientist in his strangely tremulous voice.
"You see, being hidden away in this volcanic valley, the people are safe from what the priests consider corruption from the outside world. Only a few of the high priests are allowed to leave from time to time to trade for essential goods that they can't produce themselves. This is how one of them discovered that you'd been asking around about the city. When he learned you had gained access to a map, he felt he had no choice but to stop you from reaching the city."
"He killed Davina's map salesman, didn't he?" Sam asked, knowing the answer beforehand.
Jordan nodded. "I'm afraid so." He patted his daughter's shoulder reassuringly, "I've been assured by the king that the villain will be punished for his attempts on your life, my dear. Sun Jaguar asked me to relay his deepest apologies."
Before Davina could respond, Jordan crossed the room, reaching into a chest to take out a stack of journals. "For you to read," he said, handing them to Davina. "They'll explain a great deal about my work here. Hopefully they will even manage to give both of you an insight into your attacker's misguided but somewhat noble intentions."
He rubbed his chin as he looked down at Davina thoughtfully. "Actually, my dear, now that I reconsider, your unexpected arrival may prove to be
highly fortuitous—if you'd be willing to grant a dying old man a favor."
"Anything," Davina agreed fervently.
Jordan ran his fingers over the leather binding of one of the journals. "If you could take these back to Boston with you and compile the data into a record of my time here, I will go to my grave with the assurance that my life has had some meaning."
He smiled suddenly. "You'd also be helping me prove to all those closed-minded idiots that make up our profession that I was correct about the existence of this city."
Davina's fingers tightened on the diaries. "You'd trust me with your work?" she asked in a whisper.
Jordan regarded her with obvious surprise. "Of course I would, Davina. I've always admired your Aztec dissertation; your writing style is far more lively than what's usually found in our profession. I have no doubt you'll do a similar sterling job when writing about these people."
"You never said anything."
"I didn't?" Jordan blinked slowly. When he opened his eyes, they were filled with regret. "No," he said slowly, gruffly, "I suppose I didn't. I've never been very good at personal relationships, especially with people I care deeply for. I suppose that's why I became interested in archaeology; the people I deal with are usually extinct."
Dragging his fingers through his pewter hair, he took a deep breath. "I'm very proud of you," he told Davina, his deep voice quavering uncharacteristically. "You've no idea how many times I wished that your mother could have lived to see what a beautiful, talented woman you've become."
He opened his arms. "I'm sorry that I haven't told you before, but I do love you, Davina Lowell."
"Oh, Daddy." Davina could feel the tears pouring down her cheeks as she surrendered to her father's embrace. She had waited all her life to hear those three simple words, and now that she had, they sounded even sweeter than she had imagined.
After a time, Sam cleared his throat. "I hate to throw cold water on this reunion, Jordan, but what about these people? When the word gets out that Naj Taxim actually exists, the city will be overrun with people. You'll be risking another Peixotos incident."
"You and Davina will simply have to work out an agreement with the government to protect them," Jordan answered, as if he possessed not a single doubt that the pair would be up to the task.
"And by the way, dear," he surprised Davina by adding, "you've no idea how pleased I am to see you here with Sam. I never did believe that Stevenson was man enough to make you happy."
After instructing the servant women to prepare baths for both Sam and Davina, Jordan left the room. Comparing this thin, drawn man with her hardy, larger-than-life father made Davina feel as if her heart was breaking.
For the first time in her life she had glimpsed beyond the mask and witnessed the man behind the legend.
Had it not been for the fact of her father's terminal illness, Davina might have enjoyed the ministrations of a pair of eager house-servants. The young women bathed her in warm, scented water, applied fragrant oil to her skin and lined her eyes with a dark kohl, much like that used by the Egyptian women of ancient times.
They appeared puzzled by Davina's short blond hair, chattering excitedly as they ran a shell comb through her thick curls. After drying her with soft linens, they wrapped her in a rainbow-hued woven cotton gown. Then they led her to a private room where Sam, also bathed, and clad in cotton trousers and shirt, was waiting for her. His tawny eyes, as they drank in the sight of her, paid compliments.
"Wow. You are one very exotic lady."
Davina lifted her gaze to a shell-framed wall mirror. "I suppose it is an improvement over Peter Pan."
He spanned the distance between them and framed her face in his palms. "I didn't mean that." His expression was as solemn as she had ever seen it. "You'll always be beautiful to me, Davina, however you wear your hair, whatever clothes you're wearing—" and there his gaze turned momentarily devilish "—or not wearing."
He bent his head, brushing his lips against hers. "It's the lady inside that pretty package that I fell in love with. And don't you ever forget it."
"How could I?" she murmured, stunned by the warmth in his golden eyes.
He nodded, satisfied. "That's better."
They fell silent for a time as they settled down on the grass mats covering the floor, neither seeming willing to be the one to initiate the conversation they both knew must come. After several long minutes, Davina softly broke the silence.
"Sam?"
He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "I know. You're going to stay."
Her eyes revealed how difficult the decision had been to come by. "I don't have any choice."
He reached out a finger, brushing away the single tear that glistened like a diamond on her cheek. "I know."
She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions Sam's simple caress provoked. "All my life I've struggled to gain my father's approval, his respect," she said quietly.
"But most of all his love," Sam guessed.
Davina nodded. "I never had any friends my own age; I spent all my free hours after school in the library, searching for subjects my father might be willing to discuss with me over the dinner table."
She sighed. "While all the other kids were devouring Nancy Drew mysteries, I was wading my way through Darwin. When the other girls spent Friday nights learning the latest dance steps, I was learning to unlock ancient secrets with radiocarbon dating."
"And when those same girls were spending Saturday afternoons downtown, trying on dress after dress in search of the perfect outfit to wear on an all-important weekend date, I was at home with a textbook portraying the hunting and gathering practices of a remote Amazon tribe."
"Indubitably that thick, scholarly tome would have been authored by Jordan Lowell, Ph.D."
Davina managed a crooked smile. "Of course." She shook her head. "So many years," she murmured. "So much time wasted."
He squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, not exactly wasted. Or are you going to try to tell me that you hate your work?"
"Of course I love it, but—"
"And as for earning your father's respect, do you think he'd hand over his precious journals if he didn't think you were the best person for the job?"
"No, but—"
"And as for loving you, sweetheart, it's obvious that he always has. Unfortunately he didn't know how to tell you." He grinned down at her. "Not all men have my sterling way with words."
Davina tried to return Sam's smile, but the effort fell decidedly flat as she was forced once again to consider a life without him. "I'm going to miss you." The lump in her throat constrained her voice to a hoarse whisper.
"Hey," he responded on a hearty note that was entirely feigned, "what makes you think I'm going anywhere?"
Her eyes flew open. "Are you saying—" Her words drifted off as she took a sudden interest in a vivid mural on the far wall. She didn't want Sam to view the blatant hope she knew must be showing in her eyes.
He ran his hands up her arms, the gesture meant to reassure. "After all we've been through together the past three weeks, if you think I'm not going to stick around and see how this thing ends, you're not nearly as intelligent a lady as we both know you to be."
Davina was stunned by the effect that simple declaration had on her. Although she knew that she could not permit Sam to remain here in the city with her for an indefinite period of time, she found that his willingness to do so meant more to her than she ever could have suspected. She had not allowed herself even the faintest hope of commitment or permanency from this man. The fact that he was so freely offering them was almost more than she could bear.
Davina valiantly fought back the threatening tears, vowing not to cry. A sense of humor she thought she had lost hours ago rose to the surface to keep the moment from becoming too intense, too compromising. She knew eventually there were things that would need to be said, but this wasn't the time to venture into such dangerous conversational territory.
"I suppose you expec
t me to continue paying your daily fee?"
Sam lifted a challenging brow. "I believe that was the agreement."
"The agreement was that you'd guide me to Naj Taxim."
"Which I believe I've done," he pointed out.
She nodded. "It appears so. It also appears that having successfully concluded your mission, we no longer have a contract."
"So now the lady wants to renegotiate?" he murmured, narrowing his eyes.
Davina gave him a satisfied smile. "I told you once before, Mr. McGee, that we Yankees are very astute business people."
"So you did." He ruffled his fingers through her short blond curls. "I also seem to remember you alleging that a Yankee recognizes exceptional value when she sees it." He ran his hand over her shoulder, satisfied as he felt her slight tremor.
"That's true," she admitted in a soft voice. His hand was moving ever so slowly downward. "Damm it, Sam, you're cheating."
He brushed her nipple with the pad of his thumb. "Just good negotiating tactics, sweetheart," he averred with a wicked grin. "Besides, if you want to know the truth, I never intended to stick to that overpriced fee in the first place. I may be good, but even I am not that good."
"Then why—"
"I was trying to get you to hightail it back to the States. That was before I realized how hardheaded you were."
Davina laughed, as she was supposed to. She looked down at their joined hands. "You're not ever going back, are you, Sam?"
Sam let out a long breath. He owed it to her to be honest. "I don't know. I can't see myself living in either Philadelphia or New York anytime in the near future; I've gotten used to life down here."
Davina took the next step cautiously, feeling as if she were suddenly walking an emotional tightrope—without a net. "But your life in Calderitas," she said slowly, carefully, "isn't exactly real."
He considered that, his thumb absently stroking her palm. "It may not come with all the trappings," he admitted. "But it is real, Davina. At least it is to me."
His words brought an unexpected flood of anguish as Davina was forced to face the fact that within days—perhaps hours—their paths would separate. Sam would return to his cantina and fishing boat in Calderitas, and as much as she truly loved him, Davina could not envision herself living above that rustic cantina, forced to put up with the fistfights, the drunken sailors and all the other unpleasant realities of life in a tropical harbor town.