Whatever possessed Eva to confront him she would never know. “I suppose you have a girl in every port, as they say?”
“Are you jealous?” he countered, avoiding a direct answer. There remained a certain tension in his attitude which had not been there earlier.
“Jealous? Me, the widow? Of course not!” she snapped sarcastically. “I was just curious.”
His taunting voice came at her again. “You have nothing to be jealous about, you know.” Oh, she knew well enough! He despised her; she would never be in competition with his women. He might desire her, but only for the physical gratification. He would never love her as she loved him, she was sure.
Eva didn’t respond to his taunt. What could she say? She felt within her the awful void she knew she was going to have to learn to live with. Unrequited love was something for soap operas; she would have to draw herself above it.
Trying to hide the despondency that had so quickly overtaken her, she rose from the rock on which she had been perched. In a voice echoing her sadness she explained, “I’ve got to go back now. Good night, Roberto.”
He had jumped up within seconds of her doing so, and was now at her elbow, his hand stopping her exit. “Are you all right?” he asked, a tone in his voice that she didn’t recognize.
“I just have to g-go, Roberto,” she stammered, his closeness not only thwarting her plans for escape but also triggering the response within her which she feared most
“I want you, Eva. You must know that,” he crooned softly, taking her chin in his fingers and turning her face to his. Tears had begun to gather behind her eyelids, and he must have felt the tremble of her chin.
He tilted her head toward his, raising his other hand to frame her jaw, as his lips slowly descended to meet hers. So light and feathery was his touch that Eva quivered even more at the sweet tenderness. She returned the caress of his kiss, her lips the only means she had of conveying the love welling inside her.
Oh, she wanted him, too. How badly, he would never know. But she would be hurt worse if she gave into his possession than she was bound to be anyway. It took every fiber of her strength to pull back from his inviting embrace, but in diverting her strength such, she lost control of the tears that lined her lids. As they began to course down her cheeks, she begged him, “Please, Roberto. I can’t …” Torture was written in the gaze she turned up at him as she sobbed, “Please …”
The coldness in the eyes, moments before brimming with passion and tenderness, bit into her, increasing her suffering tenfold. When he abruptly released her, she turned blindly and stumbled back toward camp, her vision blurred by the tears of pain that raged unchecked.
CHAPTER 7
Sleep was a long time coming for Eva that night. She felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. The hiking had been strenuous, the night air of the mountain enervating. But she lay awake until long after everyone else in the camp had succumbed to the much-needed rest.
Torment was eating her from the inside out. Her love for Roberto, his hatred of her, her guilt over Stuart, her failure as a wife—the tug-of-war continued endlessly. Given the opportunity, Eva would have immediately left Brazil. It was Roberto’s nearness which punished her most. She was trapped, unable to return even to Terra Vermelho without a guide. And each time she saw him glaring at her, she felt the knife twist a little more in her gut. When she finally did doze, it was into a fitful sleep which merely transferred the anguish into a dream setting. It didn’t surprise her when Roberto stopped beside her before breakfast.
“You look terrible. Didn’t you sleep?” he mocked her, a satanic look in his eyes which promptly unbalanced her already tentative composure.
“That’s really none of your business!” she snapped back softly, so that none of the others would see her oversensitivity and jump to a conclusion as to its cause. She didn’t relish another public argument, despite any apology.
“It certainly is my business when I’m trying to keep this expedition going,” he retorted, his voice held low for similar reasons.
“Don’t worry. I’m in very good health. You won’t be stuck with a malaria victim, I can guarantee!” she spoke sarcastically, then stalked away from him toward the fire and a cup of morning coffee, which she badly needed.
Roberto and the five other men—even Carlos had been drafted, to his obvious chagrin, to help with the digging—loaded themselves up with equipment and entered the mine shortly after breakfast. Eva was in no mood for arguments, particularly ones which she knew she’d lose, so she didn’t push Roberto to let her join them. It did seem easier to trust him for the time being, as much as it galled her to do so. After all, he had assured her that she would be able to go in as soon as it was safe enough.
Not wanting to appear to be sulking, she had helped the men don their backpacks and balance their gear, though she made a point of avoiding Roberto. If he was so damned sure of himself, he could just do his own packing, she fumed inwardly.
Once the group had been swallowed up by the long, dark corridors of the mine, Eva turned back to the camp to clean up from breakfast. She spent the morning impatiently trying to find things to do. She picked up this, neatened up that, moved the other thing. She even did some photographing, but what was usually such a diversion for her was now no help in easing her frustration.
Pacing around the camp like a caged animal, she found herself stopping beside Roberto’s things. Impulsively she sat down and let her hand trace the curved outline of the rolled sleeping bag he had so recently slept in. Using it as a pillow, she lay down in the sunlight to let its warming rays soothe her. To her begrudging pleasure, however, the real soothing effect came from the pillow that now cushioned her red-highlighted curls. The faintest traces of that fresh and masculine smell she associated with Roberto reached her nostrils, calming her, entrancing her into a peaceful, albeit brief, nap.
The nearness of him, if by smell alone, had given her comfort, and when she awoke, perhaps an hour later, she felt greatly improved from earlier in the morning. With a fresh cup of coffee in her hand, she explored the outer perimeters of the camp, which she had never seen.
Refreshed as she was, she took more pictures, this time becoming engrossed in her subject matter. She photographed the landscape, dominated by its dual hues of the dull green of the foliage and the red of the mineral-rich soil. Adding a polarizing filter to her camera, she photographed the clouds which, more numerous today than on any other day she had been here, scampered across the purplish-blue sky in ever-changing conformations.
As she watched, the sun caught on something white off in the distance. To Eva’s surprise and delight, it was the steeple of a church in a distant village, barely visible except when the sun singled it out from between the cloud shadows. Quickly, Eva put on the longest telephoto lens she had brought with her and raised the camera to her eye. She may have waited another ten or fifteen minutes thus, until the sun and the clouds had arranged just the right compromise. Only at that moment did she make the exposure, and she instantly knew that it was to be one of the better ones of the trip. It was all in the lighting, she thought with satisfaction, aware that her patience had paid off.
If only patience paid off in other realms! She had infinite patience when it came to photography. Why did she have so little patience when it came to Roberto, she demanded of herself angrily. Her show of temper only made him all the more stubborn. Maybe if she tried a different tactic, the remainder of this trip could be salvaged. Yes, that was what she would do, she resolved. She wouldn’t challenge him head-on anymore—if she could help it. It was a big “if,” she knew, but she had to convince herself that she could attain the same end by different, and hopefully more peaceful, means.
It was easier said than done. Eva’s boredom had returned with a vengeance by the time the men finally emerged from the mine in the early afternoon. They all appeared exhausted, with dirt heavy in the folds of their clothes and smudged on their skins where it had mingled with sweat.
/> Eva knew enough to respect their somber expressions and save her questions until they had had a chance to rest. She helped wherever she could, getting out the lunch while they cleaned up at the waterfall, applying Band-Aids to open blisters, desperately working to curb her curiosity all the while.
It was Roberto who finally approached her when she had moved a distance from the others, and began to explain what had taken place.
“We were able to bolster some of the weaker places. Then we started digging out the collapse in the main shaft leading to the Topaz. It’s going pretty well, but it’s tiring. So far, the torches are holding up all right; if our hands and backs do, we may have a chance of breaking through later this afternoon.” Throughout the delivery of this brief bulletin, his voice had been factual and devoid of emotion.
Eva made no answer. Impulsively she reached down for his right hand and lifted it to examine the welts on his fingers and palms. Stifling a wince, she looked him directly in the eye, playing his own game, she thought, and ordered, “Wait here!” while she ran to get the first-aid kit.
“You’re a fine one to talk. You watch out for everyone else but ignore your own potential infections,” she scolded, subconsciously adding the force of her own morning’s frustration to her voice. She couldn’t hide the anger as she went on, “You’re so concerned about your responsibility for everyone else’s safety. I suggest you watch out for yourself a little more!”
He had watched and listened with amusement as she had cleaned and covered the sores, overlooking her chiding tongue until her last statement. Suddenly he bristled.
“When I want your suggestions I’ll ask for them,” he growled; then, as suddenly, he was teasing again, adding in a low voice, “Aren’t you making a big thing out of a few blisters? I think you enjoy holding my hand …”
Eva looked up to his face, her eyes conveying at his intimation the fury that words would have normally done. Abruptly she dropped his hand, slammed the first-aid kit onto the ground, and turned on her heel and walked away from him, her clenched fists the only remaining signs of her indignation.
She successfully avoided him until the group was ready to re-enter the mine. Since he seemed to have no intention of raising the issue himself, she knew it was up to her. Determined to test out her new tactic, she approached him quietly and asked calmly, “Can’t I go in this time, Roberto?” The only sign of pleading was in the green eyes that searched his for some warmth.
There was none. Coldly and dispassionately he replied, “Not now. You stay up here until I tell you otherwise.”
Eva opened her mouth to object, then closed it again in anticipation of the humiliation she would inevitably suffer if she argued with him. She just stood her ground and glared at him. To add to her fury, he sensed her thoughts and, adding salt to the wound, sent a twinkle of the eye and a smirk of the lips in her direction before entering the mine himself.
This wasn’t working, fumed Eva, as the last of the men disappeared once again. Nothing works with that man! He is a demon! Her heart beating rapidly in agitation, she resumed her impatient vigil, all the while trying to decide what her next tactic should be.
She didn’t quite know when the thought came to her, but she found herself calmly gathering her camera things together, reaching for one of the spare flashlights that lay with the other extra gear, and heading for the mine. She was an adult, she had told him, and as such she could chart her own course. Though she hadn’t thought much about this one, common sense told her to follow the main shaft until her ears directed her otherwise. She was well guided, her torch lighting the way as she cautiously proceeded through the long corridor.
It seemed as though she had been walking for an hour when she finally stopped. As she moved forward she listened as carefully as she could; she heard nothing, no signs of digging or any other activity. The winding of the corridor itself had long since obliterated the light from the mine’s entrance. Eva paused at each of the side shafts branching off the main one, but she had seen no indications of which one the men might have taken.
Reluctantly, she realized that she would do better to return to the camp until she could get some sort of guide better than mere hunch and hearing. She retraced her steps; as always, she mused, the return trip appears shorter. It was with relief that she caught the first rays of light filtering in through the mine entrance.
Her relief was short-lived. As she approached the opening, her camera equipment jangling gently against her hip, a shadow fell across her path, its source looming in the center of the doorway before her. She knew the profile on sight—the wide stance, the slim hips on which powerful hands rested, the firm torso, the broad shoulders, and the wide-brimmed hat hiding from her any view of his face. Even without seeing it, she suspected what that face held.
Not a word was spoken. Eva stopped short in front of him and peered into the shadowed countenance with as much determination as she could summon, given the verbal tirade she momentarily expected. She had passed to the side of him and emerged into daylight when the force broke loose. Wheeling around, he clamped a steel vise on her arm and half-dragged her from the entrance toward the opposite end of the camp, where he threw her roughly against the widest tree he could find, imprisoning her with arms on either side of her head, and glared at her. Eva noted that the camp was deserted except for him, mild solace given the circumstances.
“I told you to wait here!” he growled through his teeth. “Where were you? What were you doing in there?” If he had physically beaten her, she would have felt no more battered than she did now from the venom of hatred flowing at her. A worse punishment he could not have conceived.
“I was bored and just wanted to explore a little,” she explained timidly, not wanting to confess that she had really wanted to find the digging but had failed.
“You were bored? I’m down there expecting cave-ins any minute and you’re bored? Don’t you know what can happen in there if you don’t know what you’re doing?” he snarled, forcefully, his upper lip curling to reveal the perfect whites beneath.
“I know what can happen, Roberto. Believe me, I just walked down the main shaft for a bit. That’s all. I couldn’t get lost. I was nowhere near the collapse you were working on.” She spoke as calmly and quietly as she could, not wanting to make things worse with her own impetuosity.
His face was close to hers, his gaze locking it into immobility. The nearness, though at no points did their bodies touch, and the smell of him melted her anger and turned it to sadness. How much he despises me, she pondered; if only that same force was love, it might come close to matching mine in intensity.
“I just don’t believe how stupid you can be, Eva!” the steely voice continued. “Where is your common sense!” he yelled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her violently back and forth until her head reeled.
Weakly she whispered, “Don’t, Roberto. You’re hurting me!” and he promptly released her shoulders and let her slide down the bark of the tree to the ground, her knees too fluid to support herself. She let her head fall forward onto her bent knees, as she fought desperately to dispel the feeling of nausea that lurked in her middle.
“I should beat the living daylights out of you, you little bitch!” he seethed almost inaudibly, his venom once again lashing into Eva, who remained with her head down, unable to face his hostility. But Roberto had not yet finished.
“So help me, Eva, if you try that again I’ll send you back to Terra Vermelho with Carlos. He’s great at taking care of stubborn mules!” he raged at her, before stalking off to pick up several additional picks and then re-enter the mine.
When everything was quiet and Eva knew he had gone, she yielded to the few low sobs that had gathered in her throat during his onslaught. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but finally she regained enough strength to get up and place her camera gear in the duffel. She knew of only one spot that would soothe her, and after gathering together a towel, soap, and clean clothes, she headed for it.
The music of the water cascading onto the rocks came as a lullaby, easing her tension and sending her into a kind of hypnotic state of relaxation. Without a second’s hesitation, she drew off all of her clothes and submitted her naked body to the therapeutic pulsation of the waterfall. How good it felt to lean back against the cool, wet rocks and become part of the scenery in this second Eden. She shampooed her hair and soaped herself, letting the massaging rhythm of the falls remove the suds one by one and send them shimmering down her body to her toes, thence on to play hide-and-seek among the rocks below. She cleared her mind of everything except the regenerating effect of the water. It was only after a long time, when she had begun to shiver from its cool temperature, that she reluctantly pulled herself out of the water’s range. An aura of peacefulness protected her. She dried herself and pulled on her panties and jeans, then choose a large, flat rock in the sun to bask on. Although the air was typically warm for the midafternoon, she had done nothing today to overheat herself, and the coolness of the water had indeed chilled her. Thus her every pore drank in the sunlight, its warmth drying the water droplets that lingered on her shoulders and breasts.
Closing her eyes, she sighed with pleasure as the gentle rays cast their halo of warmth over her. This is my own garden of Eden, she reflected, a smile breaking through the even glow of the sun on her face. I could stay like this forever, she declared silently.
Pictures of You Page 11