The Lost Hearts

by Maya Wood

  Lawrence turned awkwardly in his chair, his eyes fixed on the final image of his late wife. “Alexis,” he said in a clipped whisper. “You know why.” Alexis’ shoulders sagged in defeat. It was always the same question and response. For Alexis there was no greater discomfort than to cause her father pain. She knew that her petitions to accompany him on his journeys roused a deep-rooted agony.

  During their younger years, Madeline had joined him on numerous trips. She had never formally studied anthropology, but she had been free-spirited and adventurous for her time. It gave Lawrence enormous pleasure to share his greatest passion with the woman he’d adored since his youth.

  They’d been traveling through South America. Between sites, they decided to take a detour to visit the famous and unparalleled Iguazu Falls in Argentina. A hint of a smile played at his lips as Lawrence remembered the camp they had made there, the thunderous roar of the ethereal falls tumbling around them. He was a handsome man back then, more streamlined and with a shock of dark unruly curls framing his tanned, bespectacled face. He imagined once more the gleam in his wife’s eyes as the fire slowly extinguished and they retired, hand in hand, to the small confines of their canvas tent.

  One week later, negotiating the tangled, muddied route to his final research site, Madeline fell ill. She had felt unwell since they left the falls behind, her body aching and skin burning with an indecisive but aggressive fever. She had been rather stoic about it, and Lawrence believed her to suffer from nothing more than flu. Setting up a camp, Lawrence nursed his wife with their basic rations and water supply.

  He remembered waking next to her in the brisk morning air. Her skin which before had been aflame was now chilled and coated with a sickly patina of sweat. Her face was ashen, her eyes too weak to be alarmed when she saw his frightened expression. He took her limp, icy hand in his. He told her she would be okay, but he knew his face could not uphold the lies uttered by his trembling lips. Each passing hour, a little more life left Madeline.

  In a desperate panic, Lawrence raced through the jungle around their camp in search of help. He knew the maps of the area by heart. He knew there was no one. But by then he was so laden with denial that he could not stop. He could not go back to see her, to admit that it was hopeless. His body wracked with ineffable anguish, Lawrence heaved with inhuman sounds. When he dared to go back to Madeline, he knew it was the last time they would be together. Dropping his ragged frame down low to the ground, he wrapped himself around her, and buried his face into her neck.

  He could still feel the softness of her mouth brush against his ear as she said, “It’s time for me to go now.”

  He had clenched her viciously in his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if she could shut out the madness of this imminent loss. “No, Maddy,” he had begged as he pulled himself upward, cradling her body in his arms. He rocked her gently and pressed his lips in her hair. “I’m so sorry,” he cried.

  “Listen to me.” She lifted her hand to his face. “I’m not sorry. I don’t have a single regret. You and Alex are the best thing I’ve ever done. I’m leaving you a happy woman.” Madeline gulped at the air, her chest wheezing. The effort of speaking sapped her, and she sagged helplessly against him.

  Laurence felt himself implode. He wanted to tell her that life could not count without her by his side. That she made him what he was. That he had never quite believed his fortune to have earned her love. He opened his lips to speak, but his mouth quivered violently around the words.

  She had closed her eyes, and when she opened them, fixed her husband in a final, solemn stare. “You have to be strong now, Laurie.” Laurie. She had called him Laurie. And then she was gone.

  He couldn’t remember how long he held her, how long he wept into her matted curls. He only remembered opening his eyes to the eerie light which refused to betray the time of day. And just like that, Lawrence awoke to a numb, hollowed version of life. Alone, he returned to Boston a zombie.

  Alexis winced to think of her father playing out the events of his last moments with Madeline, but she could not be silent. “Father, I miss her as much as you do. I know what she was to you. But she never would have wanted this. She never would have wanted you to hold me prisoner, or be so afraid of the world. Not for me.” Lawrence sat still, his expression unmoved. Alexis persisted, “What happened to mother was uncommon. Plenty of women, women anthropologists, do field work in remote areas of the world. Think of Margaret Mead and Ruth Benedict. These are women who unflinchingly go out into the unknown and face the same dangers that you do.” Alexis’ eyes flashed passionately. She couldn’t help but feel like a petulant child boiling her argument down to a question of fairness, but she was hot with anger. Still he sat, angled toward the haunting photo of Madeline, his fingers guarding his bearded mouth.

  “My dear,” he said finally, meeting her gaze squarely. “I’m afraid there is no logic or reason that can persuade me. On this matter, I admit with no hesitance, I am totally and wholly irrational.” Now his eyes fell to scan the surface of his paper-covered desk, but his tone was resolute. “I’m sorry, Alexis. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind. It’s best you forget it and move on. I need you to focus, because you are a part of all this, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Alexis fought back the threatening sting of tears with clenched teeth. Every muscle in her body contracted in frustration. She examined her silver-plated fountain pen, gripped tightly by white knuckles. She loved her father dearly, but now she was teeming with desperate anger. Alexis rarely let her temper get the better of her, especially with her father, but they had touched on one of the sorest spots of their relationship. Just as she was searching for another way to argue her point, she was startled to see that Lawrence’s brow no longer stitched with stern fatherly reproach. Each feature of his weary face sagged with sad defeat. He looked as old as he ever had, his mouth slightly open, his eyes pale and alone.

  “Please, Alexis,” came a plea so frail she almost didn’t hear it.

  Alexis swallowed with effort. Instantly the fiery emotions which had electrified her entire body were now quelled by compassion. Her eyes watered with guilt, and she stared hard at her journal, the pages brown and thinned from years of use. She understood then and finally the futility of her desire to enter the physical realm of anthropology.

  For what seemed like hours they sat without speaking. The thick walls of the building and the solid heaviness of the door insulated the office from all sound. It even felt as though both father and daughter had ceased to breathe. Alexis did not speak again or move until her father stood stiffly from his chair and reached for the expedition maps they’d drawn of New Guinea. Adjusting his glasses, and clearing his throat, he said “Now, let’s wrap this up.”

  Chapter Three

  Philip stood easily behind the helm of The Boston Pearl, the lean muscles of his arms flexing below the sleeves of an olive green polo shirt as he steered their way toward Thompson Island. Gusts of wind pulled at the sails above them, the metal hooks clanging against the soaring mast. Alexis wriggled back into the brown leather cushions lining the rear starboard, inviting the sun to bathe her face in its warmth.

  “Aren’t you happy I finally got you away from your work?” Philip’s teasing voice sounded against the purl of rippling water. He climbed nimbly along the boat and lowered the anchor.

  Alexis didn’t hesitate to agree. “Of course I am. This is incredible.” Steadily she made her way to the bow, climbing onto the luminous platinum deck. His shirt had moistened from the exercise of anchoring the boat, and Alexis cast a furtive glance at the snugness of the fabric over his chest. Her throat closed and she swallowed hard. Philip flashed a satisfied smirk at her unspoken praise, and he joined her, two glasses and a bottle of chilled Chardonnay in hand. It struck Alexis then how composed and self-assured Philip looked in any situation, as though he had just come to life from the glossy pages of a fashion magazine.

  Cross-legged, they sat f
ace to face, faintly bobbing to the lulling sway of the water as he poured them a drink. With a ceremonious gesture, he grasped the stem of the glass and thrust it skyward. “To us. To many days like this.”

  Alexis’ mouth spread into a gleeful smile. To many days like this. She realized then how hard she had fought the urge to consider Philip in any permanent way. Ever-skeptical of the newcomers in her life, she had held him at a distance. She felt silly now, watching him toast confidently to their happiness. For a moment she allowed herself to revel in the sweetness of finally having found someone who respected her, liked her, loved her as she was.

  “To us,” she said, swigging gluttonously at the cool liquid.

  Philip sensed a momentary chance to glimpse her without cover, and the cool glimmer of his eyes melted. He remembered the exact moment he had first seen her. She had emerged through a sweep of trees among the university campus and he saw the sun light up a halo of flaming locks. He remembered the dress she wore. The strawberry red swatch of pleats that hugged her curves. The open-toed heels. The black pearl necklace. In a flash, the lines of her face, the generous surface of her pink mouth, and those endless blue eyes were seared in his mind. He had never wanted to possess anything so much as in that moment. He wanted her, and the wanting rendered him breathless.

  Now she sat before him, relaxing into this unspoken promise of a shared life. He was this close, he thought, to staking claim on her. Or so he had wanted to believe. The closer he got to her, the more he felt off course. Close up, she had become bigger than his initial desire, too big to contain. How could he be diverted so enormously from his instincts? He was a Talbot after all, and Talbots took, they conquered, they collected. Philip bit his teeth into his lip. She offered her love to him, he realized, but she was not his. Not like he had wanted. Not yet.

  She did not see the tension in his face, the contraction of his muscles as he squirmed in this new strange sensation. “Let’s go for a swim off the boat. Can’t we?” Alexis asked playfully as she polished off the remainder of the sweet, fruity wine.

  “Sure thing,” Philip replied, composing himself from the uncomfortable thread of his thoughts. “But, uh, first I should take care of that wine mustache you have there.” Philip cupped her face with his hand, caressing her upper lip with the soft pad of his thumb. Alexis’ heart quickened and a pinprick of heat deep within her burst, pushing up to the surface of her skin. Without effort, he scooped her towards him, and brushed his parted mouth against hers. Instantly his breath was urgent, and it electrified her senses. Alexis’ eyes rolled back, and her head drained of blood.

  “God, Alexis. I want you,” he said just as he closed his mouth over hers. She was swept up by his need, as though he were possessed by something beyond his control. His body shifted and rose with the agility of a predatory cat, and she felt his arms begin to vine around her. His mouth was pressed against hers hard, his teeth gently but hungrily tugging at her bottom lip. His hand, now clasped at the base of her neck, urged her head to fall back. Suddenly she felt the unleashed mass of her curls whip around them as Philip grazed the slope of her bare throat with his lips.

  Through the dizzy haze of the wine, Alexis could feel her small frame quake with a climbing need. In that moment she longed for nothing more than the solidness of Philip’s body above her, the naked skin of his chest pressed hard against her breasts. Her arms wreathed Philip’s shoulders, and perceiving her desire, he lowered his hands to grasp her thighs, his fingers kneading her supple flesh. He lifted her easily atop the cabin roof, coaxing her legs open with his hands, and she wondered if he could feel the feverish pulse of her desire against him.

  He pulled her forcefully against his torso and she locked her legs tight around him. Both of their bodies clung tightly, squirming for impossible closeness. He pulled at the hemline of her skirt, found the heavenly backs of her knees, and opened her wider around him. His breath was shallow, his movements hungry and powerful. Slowly his burning palm rose upward along the slope of her thigh and she felt the center of her aching heat grow and expand as he neared her.

  Alexis’ eyes flew open when he touched her, she could feel the fire burst in her cheeks and along the slope of her neck. He was pulling the delicate lace over her thighs. She panted. “Oh my God, Philip,” she rasped. His nostrils flared as he fixed her hard. She had never seen him look at her like this before. He caught her in a deep kiss, and she felt his hands grasp furiously at the buckle of his belt. The waist of his pants snapped open, and she felt spine-tingling hardness push against her.

  And then, as if waking from a stupor, Alexis gasped and slammed against Philip, convulsing with the shock of air. Philip raised his head a moment, panting violently with need. His eyes were vacant pools of fire, and for a moment he did not understand. He pulled her ravenously back to him, but she resisted. “No, Philip. Stop,” she sputtered incoherently, squirming against his possessive embrace. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Alexis began to reclaim the various limbs that had entwined with his. “This isn’t the moment,” she offered weakly. Philip looked astounded.

  “It’s not?” he asked flatly. Regaining his composure, he quickly pulled up his pants and smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand.

  “Well, it’s just that I’m not exactly ready.” She slid off the cabin roof and leaned against the rail, her fingers closing over the cold steel. Doubt flickered across her indigo eyes. She couldn’t explain her hesitance. She loved Philip. She knew empirically he was one of the most attractive men in Boston. She had desired him deeply. Yet whenever they found themselves in such a situation, with the moment to act out their longtime fantasies, she had always put a stop to it.

  Philip stood still, his smooth chin jutting slightly outward. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, his mouth falling open with an exasperated sigh. He shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment. “I just don’t get it, Alexis.” He dropped his head and rubbed his neck, his eyes wide and dazed. “What’s going on?”

  Alexis watched him tuck his shirt back into the waistline of his pants. He buckled the belt, his face fixed like stone. “I don’t know, Philip. I…” Alexis bit her nail, buying time. She searched her mind desperately for the precise words which would lend clarity to the misunderstanding. But she could find none. It was only a feeling which propelled her from the arms of her lover. There were no concrete objections which she could truthfully explain away. She knew she should go to him, wrap her arms around him. But she could not budge from her lonely spot against the banister.

  “That’s all you have to say?” Philip said, his face flooding with red. He coughed indignantly. “Alexis. I love you. We love each other. It’s perfectly natural for us to be together. In fact,” he said gesturing sarcastically with his hands, “it’s more natural for us to be together than for you to push me away like this.” He shook his head bitterly. “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Please, Philip,” Alexis squeaked.

  “Alexis,” he said, laughing slightly maniacally. “I am going a little crazy here. You’re pushing me to the edge. I want you so badly. Don’t you want to be with me?” It was a demand, and his voice was tinged with the threat of impatience.

  “Yes, I do. Couldn’t you tell?” Her face flushed as she plunged into a vivid recap of the moments just before. She reached sheepishly at her ankles, pulling up the cream lace panties. “I’m sorry, Phil. Please,” she stammered. “Be patient with me.”

  Philip cast a sideways gaze at the horizon, inhaling meditatively through his nose. Alexis grasped the rail, bracing herself for another barrage of questions. But he only shrugged his shoulders and kicked the heel of his loafer against the deck. “Let’s take that swim, then.”

  Alexis flashed an overtly appreciative smile at him. She wanted to kiss him for sparing her the discomfort of articulating nascent irksome thoughts.

  With nothing short of acrobatics, beneath the warm layers of her sailing apparel, she changed into one of the latest styles of bikini w
ear. She knew Philip had been devious about providing the wardrobe for their outing. It was the perfect opportunity for him to glimpse her with the least amount of coverage. Though subtle was the wind, faintly chilled streams of air grazed the surface of her bare skin. Beneath the ebony colored triangles, she could see her breasts round firmly and her nipples harden. Suddenly feeling very naked, she jerked her head to check for Philip. He was nude but for the stretchy gray fabric pulled tightly across his pelvis. Alexis blushed at his exposed body and the newness of seeing it so brazenly displayed. He took her in, and she felt his eyes pause on the ripe slope of her behind. His expression flashed with the same intensity she had seen just moments before, and his Adam’s apple seemed to grow heavy in his throat.

  “Let’s go,” he chafed.

  The Bentley engine purred as the pair cruised along the narrow, lamp-lit road ways. Alexis shivered beneath the bundle of thick layers enveloping her, and she reached her hand to comb back the untamed ringlets of hair still damp from the ocean water. Curled up alongside Phillip, she watched him from the corner of her eye. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed vacantly before him. She had observed this expression on occasion but had never apprehended the emotion behind it.

  “Philip,” Alexis started, her tone slightly investigative. “I had an amazing time today. I’m really happy you convinced me to go. It was a much needed break from all of this work.” She let her hand rest on his leg and she melted with relief as he lowered his own from the steering wheel to squeeze her gently. Sighing, she continued, “You know what a big deal this expedition is. I’m so excited for my father and what this could mean for the Society.”

  Philip coughed and reclaimed his hand from hers. Alexis’ momentary relief chilled and she saw his jaw clench in disapproval. Alexis slid away from him, hugging the frame of the door as he subtly maneuvered the car onto Devonshire Road, a cozy, wooded neighborhood peppered with cottage-style houses. The convertible slowed to a rolling stop and Philip relaxed against the plush leather seat. Through the venerable trunks of the willow trees, Alexis welcomed the sight of the cobblestone path winding upward through the velvety grass to her wooden shingled home.