Paul and Tom broke away from the group and came forward to meet them as they approached, Tom reaching gallantly to relieve Eva of the duffel. She turned down his offer firmly, insisting that she could handle the heavy bag, then she stole a triumphant glance at Roberto. Her gesture had been wasted; the latter was occupied rechecking the donkeys as he talked with the Brazilian. Quickly erasing any signs of disappointment, Eva turned to greet the others, Jacques and Pierre, both of whom appeared rested and enthusiastic, though Pierre was unable to totally disguise the brooding look that she found so disquieting.
As they awaited Roberto’s word to set off, Eva stepped back from the others and began to take pictures. Determined to keep a running photographic narrative of the expedition, she made snaps of the square in which they gathered, including the donkeys with their packs, the pile of knapsacks on the pavement waiting to be hoisted onto the appropriate backs, the little Brazilian at work with Roberto, tightening the cinch on one animal, rebalancing the load on another, and the four other men gathered together in friendly conversation. Past experience had taught Eva to expect some early self-consciousness and awkwardness in her subjects. These subjects didn’t disappoint her. Roberto and the Brazilian had been too preoccupied to even notice her, much to her relief; the other men were a different story. Of the four, only Jacques took her activities in stride. Paul and Tom, God bless them, immediately took to hamming it up, facing the lens head-on with ear-to-ear grins on their faces and arms across each other’s shoulders. They could have been posing high atop Mt. Everest, thought Eva with a snicker, for the look of triumph they mockingly wore. Their awareness of the camera didn’t faze her in the least, for she knew that they would soon become oblivious to it. She had to admit that the pictures she had just shot would capture some truth about their subjects—Paul and Tom were nuts, lovable nuts! She rather enjoyed their antics, particularly as they buoyed her to take several shots of the malevolent-looking Pierre, his glare zeroing through the lens at her.
When the last of the details had been seen to, Roberto gave the sign, and they were off. Eva couldn’t help but share the excitement of the others. The expedition promised to be a rare experience and was certainly a far cry from anything she had ever done before. She suddenly realized that this trip was already doing its job; even through yesterday’s emotional upheavals, she had brooded less about Stu, their failed marriage, and her widowhood than she’d done in a fortnight. Even with as little sleep as she had had last night, she felt exhilarated, and her step increased as she took her place in the small procession.
They passed out of the square as they had entered it, then turned onto the cobblestoned street heading away from the center of town, if in fact that was what the close cluster of houses was called. The sun had now risen above the hills, its warming glow intermingling with the surface chill of the stones. An occasional villager passed the group in the opposite direction, an occasional head nodded at a window, an occasional hand waved its greeting of farewell and luck. Within a few minutes the clop-clop of the donkeys’ hooves ceased as the cobblestones gave way to dirt and the town was left behind.
Talk was practically nonexistent during this exit. Eva suspected that, like herself, each of the group was savoring the peace of the morning, reveling in the inner excitement, perhaps daydreaming as to where the hike would lead. She felt all these things and more. Although Roberto was well ahead of her, she was acutely aware of him. He looked so masculine, damn him, in his snug-fitting denims and his tapered shirt. His pace was strong, his stance erect and confident, knapsack and all. The wide-brimmed hat was in place once again, warding off any stray rays of the sun.
In between her thoughts Eva continued to photograph. She captured the town as it disappeared behind them; she captured the dull green foliage on either side of the trail; she captured the distant hills above them, dotted wth small pockets of mist, the last remnants of a wayward cloud. The path they walked on was narrow, allowing no more than two abreast. Once leaving the town, it became a slow but steady climb, the gradual gain in altitude demanding little from the hikers. Very pleasant, thought Eva, as she shifted her shoulder straps and adjusted her stride to keep pace with the others.
They plodded along thus for several hours. With the sun higher in the sky, the heat increased, adding to the natural warmth of exertion. Eva’s shoulders indeed began to ache—score one for Roberto, she lamented—but her feet were doing just fine. Score one for sneakers, she came back triumphantly. Just then Paul dropped back from his position directly behind Roberto. Was he checking up on her or just visiting?
“How’re you doin’, kid?” he asked, in the warm and sincere manner that had immediately endeared him to her.
“Great! How about you?” she returned, not quite honestly, but hoping that he would talk with her awhile and perhaps take her mind off her aching shoulders. Much to her pleasure, that seemed to have been his intention, so they moved along side by side for a while. The group, though otherwise in single file, had spread out significantly, with Roberto in the lead and the donkeys in the rear. This distance put Eva and Paul out of earshot of the others, so she felt totally relaxed in the conversation.
“Tell me about yourself, Paul,” she asked with genuine interest.
“Well, ah, let me see.” The consummate joker, he rolled his eyes upward, squinting as he did so, as though he had so many, many years to dig from and couldn’t quite decide where to begin.
“I was born in New York, though we moved to Chicago when I was three, so I don’t remember much. My dad worked for a national insurance company and was periodically transferred. We lived in a huge high-rise in Chicago until I was seven, when we moved to Boston. My mother still lives there, in an apartment overlooking the Charles River.” He paused, temporarily lost in thought. So that was why Roberto spent so much time in Boston, she reasoned, with his mother still there!
“Your father?” she redirected him.
“He died. Four years ago, now. It was very hard on my mother. They were so close. And his death was very sudden. Roberto was a great help—” he stopped abruptly, wondering if he had spilled the beans.
Eva laughed aloud at his guilty look, the laugh loosening the tension in her shoulders as her feet plodded on. “I know. Roberto told me last night.”
“What else did Roberto tell you last night?” A mischievous gleam in his eye, Paul had lowered his voice to one of mocking intimacy.
Eva blushed. “I mean, I guessed the relationship and Roberto confirmed it. The resemblance is remarkable.”
Becoming serious again, Paul continued his earlier thought. “Roberto was terrific. He helped my mother over a rough time and me as well. I don’t have any other siblings. Roberto became a real brother to me.”
“Hadn’t you known him before that?”
“Oh, yes. He spent several months a year, mostly vacations, with us from the earliest time I can remember. But we were never very close. He was a thorn in my father’s side. And my father, at his best, was no easy man to get along with! My mother is a saint to have loved him so.” He smiled in resignation, sadness again pervading his recollections.
“What about Roberto? Did he spend the rest of his time in Brazil?” Subconsciously, Eva had narrowed the conversation.
Paul looked at his boots, keeping the gentle pace of the hike, the dust of the path beginning to dull their sheen. He seems hesitant to say too much about Roberto, thought Eva. Almost protective. After several minutes, having evidently resolved some internal dilemma, he replied to her questions.
“Roberto spent most of his time in the States, either at boarding school or on vacation with us. Although his home was formally in São Paulo with his father, he didn’t spend much time there until he had graduated from business school and returned there to live. Then we didn’t see him as often. Mother missed him.”
Eva’s own maternal instinct must have been pricked. “Wouldn’t he have been better off with his mother than at boarding school?” Then realizing the r
amifications, she added, “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
“That’s okay. You have to understand Brazilian values, Eva,” he replied patiently. “Education is an important source of status. Although Roberto’s father was well established, he wanted to guarantee everything for his son, particularly since …” Here he stopped, knowing he had almost gone too far. Since what? Eva’s curiosity had been aroused. She had taken in every bit of the information he had given her about Roberto, in hopes that it would help her better understand this enigmatic man. What was this last hesitation? Paul interrupted her thoughts.
“And speaking of the man, I’d better go up and see how we’re doing. Talk with you later, Eva!”
Where he got the energy to sprint ahead to where Roberto was steadily plodding, she would never know. She had enjoyed their conversation but now was becoming uncomfortably aware of muscles, everywhere, declaring their existence. And she thought she had been in such good shape, always on the go at work! Well, she rationalized, as long as she could keep her moans and groans to herself. She would not give Roberto the satisfaction of discovering her weakness.
Mercifully, the group soon stopped for a rest and some lunch. Eva busied herself with her camera bag as she sat on the hard ground, its sparse covering of grass no cushion, though even its bumps were a welcome relief to Eva, having now removed the weight from both her shoulders and her feet. She avoided Roberto’s gaze as he passed her on his way to the donkeys. When he returned he carried two small paper sacks, one of which he dropped in her lap as he squatted down in front of her, his back to the others. His face was expressionless, but his dark eyes bore through her and his tone was cold.
“How are you holding up?”
“Just fine! I’m sorry to disappoint you!” Eva shot back, a bit too defensively. A slow smile played on his thin lips, a faint light twinkled from the depths of his black eyes in amusement at her reflex.
“Just wondering. I don’t want any lame animals, human or otherwise, this trip,” he murmured, as he straightened up and headed toward the others. “Help yourself! Lunch is over with Carlos!” he called to the others, once again letting his tongue play in a strictly Brazilian way with the pronunciation of the native’s name. Turning a final time toward Eva in silent conveyance of a subtle message of understanding, he deposited himself on the ground and concentrated on his own lunch.
Eva frowned in self-disgust. How could she be so transparent? He seemed to know her as well as she knew herself. She contemplated getting up and moving around, anywhere, just to prove his assumptions wrong, but she didn’t quite trust her leg muscles yet and she wanted every minute of rest that he would permit. Instead, she settled for a scowl of defiance sent in his direction, before she turned to her own refreshment.
Tom had settled himself near Eva and kept up a steady train of chatter, which she found to be both diverting and enjoyable. Once her eye skirted the group and came inadvertently to rest on Roberto’s, instantly locking into the intense concentration of his gaze. She was mesmerized by him. His eyes gripped and held her just as his hands had done on other occasions. But she could read nothing in them, nor did she try. His mastery over her frightened her, yet she was powerless to tear her gaze from his. When he finally diverted his eyes, thereby releasing her, she jerked her gaze back to Tom self-consciously; the latter was unable to hide, in his running commentary, a hint of embarrassment at the visual possession he had witnessed. Eva politely listened to, though heard very little of, Tom’s remaining chatter; she responded when appropriate but knew her mind dwelled on Roberto.
He had, she acknowledged unwillingly, become an increasing presence in her thoughts. There was so much about him that puzzled her. She knew so little of him, yet they shared an intimacy in every glance. He seemed to know her mind, anticipating her inner thoughts and actions. And as much as she fought him, she knew that in the end she would have to yield to him, as much of her own volition as his.
CHAPTER 5
The rest stop was over and the line of march resumed. Eva had been rejuvenated by the break, her muscles regaining some of their strength. She knew that although they would be a lot sorer by nightfall, they had to become accustomed to the steady pace sooner or later. While still fresh from the brief hiatus, she worked with her camera, as much as the uninterrupted movement of the caravan would allow. The view changed subtly as they gradually gained altitude; she photographed these new vistas and the foliage of the mountainside, so far from being lush, yet so beautiful in its ruggedness.
The midday sun had begun to leave its mark. Sweat trickled from Eva’s scalp, down her neck, gathering in the bend of her elbows as they folded to allow her moist palms to ease the burden of the shoulder straps. Beneath the knapsack her T-shirt clung to her. Perspiration dotted her midriff where her camera bag occasionally made contact.
The men were not immune to the heat either, much to Eva’s satisfaction. The Frenchmen, walking abreast now and exchanging words in their native tongue, had slowed some, falling back nearer to Eva. Tom, to her amusement, gesticulated periodically with his hands, fanning his face, flapping his wings, all in an attempt to cool himself and well aware that he was on a stage entertaining those behind him. Paul, further ahead, kept up the pace diligently, his only sign of discomfort the occasional mopping of his forehead with the back of his hand.
Roberto, on whose striding form Eva’s eyes eventually fell, seemed barely aware of the sun’s searing rays. The band of his hat had taken on the darker hue of moisture and his forearms glistened faintly with sweat as they swung gently at his sides, but otherwise he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying both the weather and the physical exertion. His composure is unfair, she thought maddeningly, looking again to the others for justification of her own discomfort.
Through the afternoon they moved onward, the overall speed slowing somewhat as Roberto geared his pace to the majority. The climb was neither straight nor steadily up, now. The small troop wound its way on the worn path that clung to the mountainside, mounting the top of a ridge then descending in its wake. Along the downward stretches Eva felt herself propelled along by sheer force of gravity; her legs by now were taking very few directions from her brain.
The worst of the heat climaxed at midafternoon, and soon the sun moved further across the sky to throw the group mercifully into the bright, but more bearable by far, shadow of the hill they hugged.
Eva pushed herself on and on, her shoulders now numb under their punishing weights and her feet beyond the point of sensation. Under the command of anyone else she would have begged for more rest along the way, but under Roberto’s lead it was another matter. He was intent on reaching the deserted mine by midday tomorrow, which meant a minimum of stops today. When he finally did signal an end to the day’s climb, Eva saw that they were at a larger clearing than the mere hints of ones they had paused at earlier. Roberto knew the route well. This clearing must have been the day’s goal all along, and he had succeeded in pushing each and every one of them to his limit to reach it. Begrudgingly, Eva had to admire his perseverance, even as her muscles throbbed in disagreement.
The clearing was just off the main path, large enough to accommodate the whole group and open enough to permit a small fire without danger of conflagration. Eva lowered her packs at the base of a stunted tree, much like the others rimming the clearing. Impulsively, she collapsed onto her back, knees bent, arm across her eyes, where she lay in pure exhaustion, heedless of any activity that might be taking place around her.
In fact, there was practically none. The others, as tired as she, had adopted similar poses; each kept to himself as though centering every bit of psychic energy on the thought of rest and relaxation. Only Roberto and Carlos kept busy, tying the donkeys securely and unloading the packs. At one point Roberto called on Jacques to give him a hand, but he seemed otherwise content to work himself.
Just as Eva’s breathing began to settle down to a more even beat, she heard footsteps close beside her ear.
Removing her arm from across her eyes and squinting up into the shadow looming over her, she saw Roberto and the faint amusement in his grin.
“Rested?” he taunted, knowing full well that it would be a long time before she would be able to answer that honestly.
“Of course!” she jumped up, wincing involuntarily at the pain in her thighs at the sudden movement. “What can I do?” she asked impatiently, seeking to compensate for the grimace, which she was sure he had seen and obviously enjoyed.
He set her to work unloading the cooking utensils, while he doled out chores to the others. When she had completed this, he ushered her to the pack containing their dinner, with instructions on how to prepare it.
“When Paul has finished building the fire, you can start to cook. I’ll leave that to you. I’m sure you’ve had more experience at it than we have,” he mocked her, the gleam of his white teeth showing through his satanic grin.
Eva glared at him as she set to work. It wasn’t the work she objected to, she knew, but rather his attitude toward her. He was purposely pushing her hard out of spite; he was determined to see her crumble in the face of the challenge. Well, she would not let that happen! Her own anger and rising determination gave her the strength she needed to prepare the dinner, which at any other time she would have thoroughly enjoyed doing.
Paul started a good fire and Eva managed to improvise with the cooking equipment the simple grilling of the steaks which had been supplied. The other men, having completed their own jobs by now, talked among themselves while she worked. Only Roberto seemed somewhat aloof, leaning lazily against a tree on the outskirts of the group. Whether he was watching her she couldn’t tell, though she stole a sideways glance at him from time to time. It must have been her comment the evening before about “woman’s work” that had prompted this punishment of her, she concluded. I’ll show him I can cope with this and more, she vowed under her breath, accidentally burning her finger on a pot handle, then rushing it to her mouth to ease the pain.
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