by JoAnn Ross
No, she admitted, she could no more live that way than Sam could return to the elegant splendor of high tea at the Bellevue-Stratford, or attending Sunday-afternoon performances of the acclaimed Philadelphia Orchestra.
She closed her eyes, hoping that if she accepted it now, when the time came to say goodbye, she would have become adjusted to the idea. But as she allowed the sorrow to flow through her, entering her blood to infiltrate every cell, Davina knew with a fatalism she had not been aware of possessing that she would carry this heartache with her for the rest of her life.
Watching her intently, Sam was not unaware of Davina's distress. He wished that there was something he could say— anything—that might offer some glimmer of optimism. But he could think of nothing, short of lying, that would comfort her. So he remained silent, having to content himself with impotently stroking her hair, wishing that they were any two different people.
"I'm sorry about your father," he said after they had sat there in the darkening shadows for a long, silent time happy to simply hold each other.
"It's ironic, isn't it?" she murmured into his chest. "For fifteen months I refused to believe the reports of his death. Despite all the advice to the contrary, I came all this way through that jungle in order to prove he was alive."
He brushed an errant curl off her forehead. "You were right."
Her turquoise eyes, as she lifted them to his, revealed the distress she was feeling in her soul. "I was right," she agreed flatly. "And wrong."
He pressed his lips against her temple, breathing in her warmth, her scent. "Hey, let's not overlook the little fact that you were also right about Naj Taxim. You really found it, Davina. The fabled lost city of the Maya."
"I found something even more important," she whispered. "I found you."
Simple words, but they had the effect of rocking Sam to the core. Staring down at the top of her head, he forced himself to evaluate his reaction. He was not particularly surprised that he had no control over the rush of emotion her soft declaration had brought; he had surrendered his life to her the moment Davina had walked in the door of the cantina—it had just taken him awhile to accept that fact.
What Sam was discovering to be an overwhelming idea was that he had no intention of letting her out of his life. If it meant staying here with her in Naj Taxim until Jordan's death, that's precisely what he would do. And then, somehow, they would manage to find some middle ground that would enable them to spend the rest of their lives together. Sam had no idea where that place might be, or how they might accomplish such an unlikely feat, but with a determination that he had not felt since his King Midas days on Wall Street, he vowed that he would not let Davina Lowell get away.
Outside the room there was a sudden shout, followed by an excited babble of voices. Going to the door, Davina looked out over the compound.
In the lambent moonlight, the pyramid being erected to the Sun Jaguar loomed pale and lovely and sad. But that sight only held Davina's attention for a moment as the earth under her feet began to groan and tremble—tremendous pressures seeking release.
All around them people were reacting in various ways. Some were praying, beseeching ancient gods to protect them from harm. Others were hurriedly gathering up their possessions—chickens, blankets, looms, cooking utensils—preparing for evacuation. Still others had run off into the jungle, headed toward the secret cave. Davina frantically searched the chaotic scene for her father.
"There he is," Sam said, pointing across the compound to where Jordan Lowell was crossing the square in the center of the city.
"We have to save him!" Davina cried out.
Sam didn't like the ominous rumbling of the earth under his feet. "Wait here. I'll go get him."
He had gone no more than three steps when he turned. "If anything happens, your first priority—your only priority—is to yourself. Stay in the open. And whatever you do, don't panic."
With that, he turned on his heel, heading toward the pyramid. A moment later, Davina was by his side. "Dammit, I told you to stay put," he complained gruffly.
"I couldn't do that."
He shook his head. "One of these days you and I are going to have a long, meaningful discussion concerning feminine acquiescence."
"I refuse to believe you'd be happy with a clinging vine of a woman."
Sam looked down at her challengingly. "So what makes you think I'm happy with the hardheaded, stubborn one I've got?"
"Aren't you?"
He squeezed her hand. "Unbelievably."
As they approached Jordan, his face appeared even more drawn and haggard than it had been earlier. "Davina, I've been speaking with the Sun Jaguar; he's promised to give you and Samuel safe conduct back to civilization."
Davina's jaw lifted. "I'm not going anywhere."
Jordan Lowell's famous composure disintegrated as he stared at Davina. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm staying here with you."
Jordan exchanged a long look with Sam. "I don't suppose you could change her mind?"
Sam shook his head. "Not a chance. Not that I'd try. She loves you, Jordan. And I love her. So, you just happen to be stuck with both of us."
Jordan's eyes misted. "I don't know what's the matter with me today," he complained. "I'm acting like an old woman."
Reaching out, he embraced Davina, burying his lips in her hair. "Just like your mother," he murmured brokenly.
He turned toward Sam. "You will take good care of her, won't you, Samuel?"
Feeling an unwelcome lump in his own throat, Sam swallowed before answering. "You know I will, Jordan."
The older man nodded. "Good."
His attention turned to the house, which was beginning to rock on its foundation. "The journals! I must save them!" he decided suddenly.
Davina grabbed his arm. "Daddy—"
"Jordan," Sam broke in on a harsh note of warning. "Unless I'm sorely mistaken, this entire place is about to blow."
"This is my life's work we're talking about," Jordan argued, shaking Davina's hand away. "Samuel, keep my daughter here; I'll be right back." He turned away and headed back toward the house.
The vibrations beneath the earth's surface were increasing—not by much, but the difference was easily perceptible. Having once experienced a small tremor in Mexico City, Davina now shared Sam's conviction that unseen forces of nature had strained the bedrock, triggering the shifting of the earth's plates. There was no way of predicting the intensity of the impending earthquake, but she knew that their present position, adjacent to this enormous pyramid of limestone, was unreasonably dangerous.
"Daddy, you have to come with us!" Davina called out. The ground began emitting low, growling sounds.
Before she could argue further, the low growls became jackhammer-level roars. It was impossible to tell if the catastrophic rumbling was coming from the earth or the sky; it filled their heads, growing louder and louder until Davina was certain her eardrums would surely burst. She was flung to the ground, where she clawed at the rocky soil in a desperate attempt to keep from slipping off the face of the earth.
Beside her, Sam was on his hands and knees, trying to reach her as the earth rolled sickeningly underneath them, like a tidal wave at full bore. Suddenly the tremor stopped and the earth was firm again. An ominous quiet surrounded them.
"Thank God," Davina whispered, reaching out toward Sam. "Oh, thank God."
Her fingers had barely brushed his when the earth came alive again, the forces harsher, wilder this time. Before her disbelieving eyes, a cleft ripped open between her and Sam. Fighting for balance, cursing over the deafening roar, Sam fought for a foothold as the fissure threatened to swallow him into a pit of mud and stone. Davina hurled herself toward the maw, managing to capture Sam's wrist just before he slid below the rim of the chasm.
She was lying on her stomach, legs stretched out behind her, and she was slowly, inexorably, being pulled into the pit with Sam. Over the roar in her ears she could hear him s
houting at her to release her hold on him, but she refused to listen, concentrating instead on keeping the fingers of both her hands wrapped tightly around his bruised wrist.
Just when she thought she could hold on no longer, they were given a respite as the tremor blessedly ceased once again. Using his feet against the side of the abyss, Sam fought his way out of the pit. They rolled away from the edge, lying together, gasping for breath.
"You damn fool," Sam managed to grind out. "You could have been killed!"
"So could you," Davina pointed out. "Besides, I don't remember you standing idly by when I fell into the cenote."
Sam knew he should be grateful to Davina; the rational part of his mind realized that he should be thanking her for saving his life. But fear for her own safety had fueled his fury and all he could think of was that she had taken a foolish risk.
"Dammit, that's different! If there's one thing you're going to have to accept, Davina, it's—"
At that moment there was another shock, stronger even than the previous two. The thunder surrounding them was punctuated by the screaming of birds, the screeching of stone against stone as the buildings of Naj Taxim began to split apart, flinging stone and rubble through the air. Looking around, Davina cried out in a sound that could not be heard over the roar of the earth's destruction. But Sam saw the terror in her eyes and turned his head in the direction she was staring.
Half walking, half crawling, Jordan was making his way back to the house. He had reached the base of the Sun Jaguar tomb when suddenly the mortar and stone began to crumble down, covering him in its wake. Davina screamed as she watched her father being buried alive.
Then everything fell silent.
"Wait," Sam cautioned, reaching out to restrain Davina from attempting to near the pile of rubble.
But he need not have bothered. She was staring at the spot where she had last seen her father.
Her rainbow-hued cotton dress was torn and filthy, her face streaked with dirt and mud. Sometime during the earthquake she had put her teeth through her lower lip; it was bleeding, but she didn't appear to notice.
Sam pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes against the wave of emotion stronger than anything nature had managed to conjure up in the past several minutes. Relief, despair and something stronger that he now knew was love.
"I thought I'd lost you," he murmured into her hair.
Davina was still numb; her eyes were huge emotionless wells as she looked around the city. Here and there a chicken that had escaped the debacle staggered over the rocks. They could hear a goat bleating plaintively, and the birds were still screaming their raucous fear to the heavens.
"Gone," she said flatly. "It's all gone. Naj Taxim, my father, everything. All gone."
Disturbed by her tone, Sam left her for a moment, returning to the house, which had miraculously escaped destruction. When he returned, he was carrying Jordan's journals.
"Not all gone," Sam insisted. He captured her chin in his fingers and directed her gaze to the books he placed in her lap. "It's all here, Davina. The city, the legend, your father. You can give them life again. It's what Jordan wanted."
Tears flooded her eyes and poured down her cheeks as she began crying violently, passionately. Unable to do anything but hold her, Sam gathered her into his arms, murmuring words of consolation he had no way of knowing she heard.
There was nothing gentle about her weeping as she clung to him, nor was there anything restrained about the anguished sobs being wrenched from somewhere deep inside her.
"That's it, love," Sam encouraged, his arms strong around her. "This little cry is long overdue, let it all out."
Wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his bruised and battered chest, Davina did just that.
After the sobs had run their course and her tears had ceased to flow, she remained cradled in his arms, too exhausted to speak or to move. Her eyes stung, her throat was sore, her head throbbed. Despite her knowledge that there would undoubtedly be aftershocks, Davina had no desire to move from this spot.
"Feeling better?" Sam asked after a long, silent time.
She nodded faintly.
"Do you feel up to a long-overdue declaration of intentions?" he asked with a great deal more calm than he was feeling.
Davina heard the strain in Sam's voice and lifted her red-rimmed eyes to him. "You don't have to do this," she whispered. "I don't need the words, Sam."
He managed a self-deprecating smile. "I think I do."
He motioned toward the journals that lay scattered about them. "I'm truly sorry about your father, Davina. I know how deeply you cared for him. I realize that he'll always be your first love."
"Sam—" She lifted a hand in a faint gesture.
"No." He covered her mouth with his, the kiss short and intense. "I'll admit to being a bit jealous of your feelings for Jordan in the beginning. It was obvious that you adored him."
Seeing the pain return to her face, Sam rushed to finish his statement. "But I've come to terms with that; I no longer have any problems with your father being your first love, Davina. As long as you'll let me be your last."
Davina's eyes misted again, but this time her tears were born from love, not grief. She framed his face with her palms and as her soft turquoise eyes met his strangely wary gaze, Sam read the answer to his question.
"My last, and for always," she whispered, pledging her love with a kiss.
Epilogue
"We've got a slight problem."
"Tell me something I don't know," Sam said, lifting his gaze from the pile of paperwork spread over the ancient rolltop desk to Davina, standing in the doorway of his office. "What is it this time? Plumbing? Or are we blowing fuses again?"
"The electrician assured me that we're all wired to code," Davina said reassuringly. "And as for the plumbing, Luis has arranged for his cousin to take a look at it next week."
Sam arched a dark brow. "I thought the electrician was his cousin."
"Different cousin," Davina explained with a grin. "Luis appears to have a very large family. We'll probably never run out of repairmen."
"At the rate we're going, we'll run out of money to pay them, though," he grumbled, riffling through the papers.
She crossed the room and perched on the corner of his desk. "Not with you running the show, we won't." She massaged the back of his neck. "You, my darling, are a financial wizard. Every room is booked through the end of the holiday season."
"Which means we're working Christmas."
She laughed. "My, my, whose idea was it to buy this rather rustic resort on one of the less populated islands?"
Her gaze drifted out the wide picture window, drinking in the sight of the jeweled surf caressing the snow-white sand of Islas Mujeres, off the Yucatan coast. The crescent-shaped bay, with its palm-fringed beach, was one of the most beautiful spots on earth; fortunately, the lack of available nightlife kept the island from being overrun by the tourist crowd who frequented Cancun. The guests who sought out Sam and Davina's lodge and adjacent guest cabins were seeking peace and quiet, an idyllic respite from the harried pace of the outside world.
"Mine," Sam admitted. "But five years ago it seemed like a good investment. After all, I didn't know how long my period of self-exile was going to last; as crazy I admittedly was in those days, I wasn't fool enough to leave myself a pauper."
He scowled down at the bill in his hand. "Although Luis's relatives appear to be working toward that end."
Davina knew that Sam's decision to take an active interest in the running of the resort was his way of finding a compromise way for them to live. For her, though, it had never been a compromise; she had loved the island from the first moment she had seen it.
Not wanting a repeat of the Amazon tragedy, she had, as her father had suggested, taken the journals to the Mexican government. Together they had conceived a plan so she could describe the group of Maya without revealing their whereabouts. The remote location,
accessible only through the secret cave, would help the city, which people were working to rebuild, remain hidden.
In the event that Naj Taxim was eventually discovered, the government had set up a contingency plan to instantly declare the entire area a sanctuary, permitting access only to a few chosen anthropologists. Once she'd finished her book, Davina planned to spend the next few years exploring the wealth of ruins the Yucatan had to offer.
"And who assured me that this would be the perfect retreat for me to work on my book about Naj Taxim?" she asked laughingly.
"Me, again."
"And who loves nothing better than taking the guests out on that smelly old boat everyday?"
"It's not that smelly," he protested.
"Darling," Davina countered patiently, "all fishing boats have a rather distinct odor. Yours included."
"You've never complained before," he grumbled.
"That's because you've kept the kitchen well stocked with fish; the guests love it."
She crossed her legs, displaying a glimpse of smooth, tanned thigh. It had been six months, and the sight of her never ceased to thrill him.
"Don't you want to know about our little dilemma?" she asked.
He ran his palm up her leg, reaching under the lightweight gauze dress. "I can think of other things I'd rather do."
She slapped his hand. "Not now. We have important matters to discuss."
Sam's fingers teased coaxingly at the hem of her dress. "What's more important than making love to my wife?"
"Family matters."
"Family matters? Are you all right? Is anything wrong?"
His smile instantly faded, concern darkening his amber eyes as he moved his gaze to her still-flat stomach. He wondered if he'd ever get used to the idea that she was carrying his child. Their child.