by Maya Wood
Alexis lowered her gaze, trying to ignore the rising bile of jealousy when he mentioned the woman. She wasn’t interested in Trevor, why should she feel threatened, she reminded herself. But the words escaped her mouth before she could reel them back. “You’re married?” she asked, her affected nonchalance dangerously transparent.
Trevor shook his head and hid his smile. “No, not married. We were very young, and I didn’t want to…disappoint anybody. I was honest with her. About my intentions.”
“So what happened?” Alexis probed, trying still to manage her voice, neutralize the tinge of envy laced in the inquiry.
“She left me.” Trevor’s face was blank, revealing neither regret nor relief. “She wanted to have children, but I didn’t. So she left me. She went back to her family.”
“So…you haven’t been with anyone else since?”
Trevor laughed, and Alexis flinched with surprise when she saw the two dimples form at his cheeks. She hadn’t noticed them before, all of those times he had smiled contemptuously at her. “Well, of course I’ve been with women.”
“Oh,” Alexis sputtered, her face falling into a dark frown as she remembered where she had first met him. “That’s right,” she said, her voice heavy and dull. “You pay your women.”
Chuckling, Trevor ran his fingers through his loose waves of hair. “I’ve never paid, Red,” he said softly. “Just because I prefer the company of folk not inclined to judge doesn’t mean I take advantage of all the services available.”
Alexis could feel her cheeks sting and she thanked the shadows for concealing the color of her embarrassment. Helplessly, she fought the sickening twist of her stomach as she imagined Trevor with other women. Naked.
His voice interrupted her combative thoughts. “And you, Red?”
Alexis smiled. It sounded so different now when he called her Red, like a shared secret. But the question snapped her back, and she thought of Philip for the first time since she had written the fuming letter that first day they had climbed the hills of New Guinea. She was amazed to discover that he no longer seemed like a real person to her, but a cold relic of her past, a one-dimensional image in her mind’s eye.
“Uh…I,” she stammered, unsure of what to say. She suddenly realized she didn’t want admit that she was attached. “I have someone waiting for me back in Boston,” she offered reluctantly.
Was she mistaken to see the same flash of jealousy pass over his face? His eyes widened. “Oh?”
“I met him, Philip, when I was at university. I wasn’t exactly…popular. The men there hated my presence.” Alexis watched the sky, searching her thoughts among the brilliant stars. “But Philip, he was different to me. He was so interested and persistent. He became the closest friend I’d had…well…just about ever. He seemed so accepting of me.”
“Seemed?” Trevor asked.
“It’s complicated,” Alexis murmured. “I suppose I should have seen it all along, but I was lonely. I took his overtures for love and respect. Along the way, I found I was just a trophy to him. At least in the beginning. I still don’t know why.”
Trevor grunted. “You don’t?” His eyes trailed slowly over the contours of her face, the delicate slope of her nose, the full, rosebud lips, and the halo of her flaming red tresses. Alexis shifted timidly under his gaze and her fingers twitched nervously, searching for something to distract her from the remark.
Alexis sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “In any case, when my father fell ill and asked me to come here in his place, Philip gave me an ultimatum. It wasn’t even my safety he was concerned about,” Alexis sniffed heatedly. “He was worried about what the Boston elite would think of his woman parading about the world like a man.” Alexis rolled her eyes scornfully at the memory of it, the indignation of countless challenges and confrontations.
It dawned on Alexis that she was omitting the key detail of the story. She didn’t mean to lie, but suddenly she had no way of explaining her bond to Philip, not even to herself. That full-bodied moment beneath the willow tree the eve of her departure had thinned. So much had happened since. She looked at Trevor and swallowed. “Before I left, Philip proposed.”
Trevor’s head smarted to attention. “Did he?”
Alexis nodded her head somberly. Why did Philip feel so far away now? And why couldn’t she look Trevor in the eye?
“And?” he prodded, a hint of impatience leaking into the words.
“I accepted.”
Trevor’s face settled impassively. “Why?” he asked. “After knowing what he really wanted from you.”
Alexis cleared her throat. The honesty was choking her. “I guess because I was tired of being a pariah, and Philip is the closest I’ve ever come to feeling like I belonged.”
Trevor ignored the twist in his gut and smiled, the dimples pressed deep. “I guess you and I have something in common, then.”
“What’s that?”
“We both felt like strangers in our homeland.”
Alexis pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms protectively around them. She lost herself in the dancing flames of the fire, unaware that Trevor watched her face from beneath his heavy brows.
“So, what do you want, Red?” His question caught her off guard. A mere month ago the answer was crystal clear. Go home, marry Philip, work at the museum, live happily ever after. Now she couldn’t imagine life post New Guinea. It had swallowed the whole of her existence, and she couldn’t see beyond its conclusion.
She frowned in her contemplation. “I don’t know, Trevor. I want the best of both worlds, and yet it feels impossible. I want to feel okay loving the things I love to do without always having to second guess myself just because I’m a woman. And yet, it seems that when I cling to my ideals, my dreams, I lose my chance at basic human connections. I feel like a leper.”
It was the first time she’d so honestly revealed herself, and for a moment she feared what he would do with her vulnerabilities so exposed. She looked at him, but he said nothing. Feeling a jolt of insecurity, her voice flared in self-defense. “I suppose that sounds silly to you, too.”
Trevor ground his teeth, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t put me with everybody else,” he said, his voice gruff. Alexis hugged her legs tighter and turned her face from him.
She slid to the ground, nestled sleepily against her blanket, giving Trevor her back. She let her lids fall gratefully over her eyes. In the still she heard Trevor say, “I don’t think you’re silly, Red. I think you deserve what you want.”
Days had passed and Alexis stood at the edge of the clearing, remarking how much their campsite had come to resemble something of a permanent home. Trevor coached Alexis from under the milkwood pine, and she sweated under the sun, carving sticks, stripping ribbons from fallen palm fronds to construct a thatched shelter, the wide, plated leaves catching the mists which rolled through the hills occasionally. She smiled at her work, feeling more accomplished than ever. She looked down at her body covered flimsily in a cotton under-dress, soiled with smudges of earth. Her limbs had tanned as she worked in the sun, the hair on her arms and legs bleaching gold against the darkened hue of her skin. She felt radiant despite the abyss between her and the material world of artificial beauty, cosmetics, and perfumes.
The horses seemed to revel in the lazy afternoons with nothing more to do than pace around the clearing’s perimeter and sample the abundant grass spraying the forest floor. Trevor told her there was a stream if she followed the hillside north, and every morning she gathered the burlap-covered canteens and tread a path as she wielded the machete before her. Happily she hummed as she bathed herself, washed the remaining clothes either she or Trevor could claim, and gathered water to boil and wash his wounds.
She was surprised to find how easily and cheerfully she accepted her role as provider. She enjoyed the routine of the day, almost oblivious that it was nothing more than a pause from a life wholly unconnected to the Highlands of New Guinea, its symphonic wilderness, its qu
iet nights. More than anything, she had become enamored with the new tenor of her relationship with Trevor. Though she stifled the discomfiting feelings that pulled at her heartstrings when she thought of the man who’d seemed so disagreeable to her, she involuntarily lapped up his good humor, the appreciation in those deep black eyes when he looked at her now.
She looked forward to the nightfall when the sky turned salmon and they would burrow into the mounds of earth around the fire. In the countless days since Trevor’s encounter with the jaguar, words had been easy, affectionate. Perhaps it was the disarming nature of their circumstances, or that Trevor was detached from her previous life that made it easy for her to reveal the troubles and fears which had governed her mind. And with each confession, Trevor seemed to meet her halfway, imparting stoic wisdom, or revealing the truth of his own loneliness.
One evening, as Alexis stoked the logs she had collected and dragged to the campsite, Trevor told her of his grandmother, Binda, who had raised him like her son. Midway through the story, she heard the air whistle violently through his teeth, as he doubled forward in pain.
Alexis leapt at him. “Are you alright? What’s the matter?” she cried.
“Nothing,” he seethed through his clenched jaw. “I keep forgetting about that one there.” He let out an agonized grunt, let his head fall back against the tree trunk. Kneeling beside him, Alexis peeled the blanket from his torso and saw that underneath the bandage on his oblique, a tiny band of blood began to seep through.
“I should check to make sure it hasn’t split open. Lie down,” she ordered firmly. Trevor inched his body outward until he reclined against the cushion of the bundles stuffed behind him. Alexis cut through the fabric, pressing a cold cloth against the sutured gash. “It’s not bad,” she assured him.
Suddenly she noticed that he was breathing hard through his nose as her hands brushed over his flaming skin. She glanced at him nervously. “Am I hurting you?” she asked.
But she saw in his eyes that it was not his wounds which inspired the tortured breathing, but her closeness. The same silence flooded the few inches between them, palpable, uncomfortable, tense. Trevor’s jaw flexed, his brow creased, and as Alexis started to recoil in the fear of her desire, she felt his hand close over her arm. He swallowed slowly, his black wild eyes delving deep into her. “Alexis,” he said, his voice thick.
Alexis was dizzy, and she felt a blazing heat erupt between her legs. She was suddenly terrified at the intensity of her longing, but she was paralyzed in his grip. Never breaking his gaze, he slid his other hand under her arm, and wincing with pain, lifted her against him. Her body covered him, her breasts pressed hard against him, her lowered face just an inch from his.
“Alexis,” he murmured again.
She shook her head in protest, but when she tried to pull away, found that her body was made of gum, the heat of her desire pulling her into him against her better judgment. She could feel the breath from her nose on his chin, she could smell him, that sweet, earthy musk. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she let it fill her lungs. Trevor cupped her chin, slid his palm around her throat, coaxed her face upward. She felt the bristles on his face scratch against her swollen lips until her mouth was level with his.
She felt his mouth open, his full lips grazed against hers, his breath hot. The heat was pounding explosively now and her vision flashed white. His hand gripped her firmly, pulled her into him until their mouths moved hungrily together, their tongues brushing over their lips. It was as if there had only ever been her desire for Trevor, mounting over a lifetime, blasting desperately as she was sucked into its undertow. She felt the urgent pulse of warmth pound thunderously against his thigh which rose and ground between her thighs. She opened her mouth, a low, raspy moan catching in her throat.
Through half-closed lids, Trevor took her in, his eyes hungrily sweeping over the velvet line of her neck, arched back as he pulled her hard against him. He ran his fingers through her scarlet waves, coiled them into his fist, and held her firmly as he let his face press into her throat, his mouth open as he tasted the salt of her skin. He slid his hand down the nape of her neck, fingering the tiny buttons which plunged down her back. One by one he unclasped them, holding her steady as she panted above him. He felt her warmth against him, and when he looked into her heavy-lidded eyes, felt the unbearable hardness of himself rise against the slope of her leg.
He covered her mouth with his, his mind spinning black, his heart wrenching violently against his chest. He pulled at the thin cotton fabric, watched it slide over the sun-kissed silk of her shoulders. Alexis pulled back, her face torn between abandon and fear. She hissed through her nose, sucking wildly at the air as he cupped the fullness of her breast in his hand. In his mind, he imagined hiking up the skirt of her dress, pulling her over him, and sinking into her in one blinding movement. When he leaned into her, he found that she was resisting, crossing her hands over her breasts. “No, no,” she was saying, her eyes blinking out of the trance.
“What is it?” he heaved, disbelieving her resistance. “Come here,” he said softly, the pad of his calloused thumb grazing her chin, his fingers tracing the agonizingly beautiful line of her collarbone.
Alexis tumbled backward, her hair spilling around her like dark, luscious vines. She hunched back, the ground clawing into the soft pads of her palms as she writhed, catching her breath. Trevor leaned forward, his hand outstretched, panting and confused. “I want you, Alexis.” he whispered, the words a betrayal of something more than carnal desire. They were a confession, and it sent her mind spinning.
She sat there dumbly, watching Trevor in the shadows, his body slumping against the tree. More than anything she wanted to return to him, to feel his body over her, to bury her face against the warmth of his neck. But the tempest of her fears swept through her heart, and like a frightened child, she sprung from the ground, and left him as she fled through the sooty forest’s web.
Chapter Sixteen
In the leafy branches high above them a bird whistled, its shrill call firing in quick succession. Trevor stirred, light filtering intrusively through his fluttering lids. His mouth was parched, and he slid his raw, dry tongue over his lips, groaning through his groggy stupor. He saw Alexis lying in a ball, her back to him, and in a flash he remembered the night before, how near he had come to begging for her closeness. He shot a scathing look at her backside, growling low with scorn. Buried in the seething pit of his anger was a wound more anguished than any of those he wore on his skin, and he wished to spring from his invalid slump against the tree, sling himself over his horse, and ride away from her forever.
Instead he lifted himself onto his haunches, residual pain wailing from the blackened scars that had healed more quickly than he could have hoped. With slow, burning effort, he began to sift through the camp, tying their supplies into neat bundles, fastening them to the workhorse. Alexis shifted drowsily, murmured as she rose, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted to the amber light of morning. “What are you doing?” she asked, the words scratching in her throat.
Trevor ignored her, his face pulled menacingly into a scowl. She cringed and lowered her gaze, staring helplessly at the ants marching purposefully over mountains of soil. She had been silly to forget the brooding hateful storm of his eyes, and she rubbed her temples now, as though to massage out the memory of the previous night, of how everything had suddenly changed. She neared him, his arms flexing as he cinched the leather straps snug around the barrel of the horse’s belly. “Trevor,” she said again. “Are we leaving? Do you feel well enough to ride?”
Trevor snapped his head at her, his eyes flaming. “Well enough,” he lied through a growl.
In silence, they broke the camp until the only evidence of their dwelling was the thatched shelter she had built around Trevor. Hot tears welled in her eyes when she saw him bear down on it, machete held high. He hacked at the wooden strips with fury, his face seized in pain from the violence with which he annihilated the mo
nument of their happy time together. When he finished, his sides flaring from the effort, he saw that she watched him, her eyes wide, mouth parted in disbelief.
“What?” he spat venomously.
Her chin quivered, a well of regret gushing in her throat. “Trevor, please,” she pleaded.
Trevor sneered, throwing his head back. “Please what?”
“Can’t we talk about this?”
“You women,” he scoffed, a cruel sneer disfiguring the handsome symmetry of his features. “You always want to talk. What’s there to talk about?”
Alexis narrowed her eyes. This again, she thought. “I don’t know why I bother,” she grumbled under her breath.
Trevor reeled back a moment. Then he rushed her, lowering his face to hers. His eyes were spitting fire pits, and Alexis recoiled, her heart thumping in her chest. She had never seen him like this, such explosive rage directed at her. “Bother?” he cackled, his voice splintering like daggers. “Don’t worry about me.” He spun around, calling out wildly into the clearing. “I’m sorry for you, woman, if you thought that meant anything.”
Alexis turned her back to him. She wouldn’t let him poison her. She grabbed the satchel which held her few remaining garments and dressed awkwardly in the brush, donning the stiff jeans she had tossed aside during her days as doctor. She tucked the short-sleeved cotton shirt under her waistline, slipped on her leather boots now dusty and crusted with mud. She peered around the wide body of a tree trunk, her hands grasping its rough bark.
Trevor stood at the center of the clearing, his face shadowed beneath his hat. Despite screaming reluctance, she pushed herself from behind the sanctuary of the forest, and wordlessly they mounted their horses. Claiming her usual spot at the rear of the miniature caravan, she cast a woeful look at the shady nook of their camp and bid farewell to the peace of heart she’d now convinced herself was nothing more than the skeleton of their dwelling scattered lifelessly across the earth.