From This Day Forward

by Deborah Cox

  Jason took the proffered pipe. "I had a woman. She's gone now."

  "You did not like her?"

  Jason held the end of the pipe to his lips. He couldn't refuse to smoke with them without insulting his host, but he'd meant to pretend to inhale. Instead, he took a deep pull, hoping the drug would dull the pain in his heart. Perhaps it would help him forget at least for a little while that he would never see her again.

  "She didn't like me," Jason replied, and the men around the circle laughed loudly.

  "There is always my sister," Socrates offered, motioning toward the girl with a wave of his brown hand. "She needs a husband."

  One of the brothers-in-law in the circle, a man Jason knew as Abraham, reacted by jerking his head around to stare at the woman in question. She sat in a circle of young women a short distance away, laughing and chattering, unaware that her entire life might be decided here tonight.

  Abraham glared at Jason, and Jason stifled a smile. "The idea isn't unappealing," he assured Socrates. In fact, Jason had once toyed with the idea of taking an Indian bride but had decided against it. "The Yanomami way and the white man's way are too different. She needs a Yanomami husband."

  Jason passed the pipe to Abraham who accepted it with a smile.

  "What did you do to make her leave?" Socrates wanted to know. "Did you beat her? Did you insult her family?"

  "No, nothing like that."

  "Then why did she leave? Why don't you go after her and bring her back?" Jason couldn't answer that, not only because he'd been asking himself the same question ever since he'd heard the boat's whistle that morning, but because the three or four pulls he'd taken on the pipe had rendered him nearly senseless.

  But the drug did nothing to dull his mind to the memory of Caroline. She was all he could seem to think about. The Yanomami believed that the drug made the user receptive to communication with the spirits. Jason had never put much store in such superstition, but as his mind dimmed and sensation took over, he felt as if he could actually see Caroline standing on the deck of the mail boat, gazing ahead toward the ocean that would forever separate them.

  He remembered little else about that night until he climbed into his hammock much later. Their hammocks were too small, so they had designed one especially for him. Like all the other hammocks, it hung along the inside wall of the yano.

  For a long time, Jason stared at the thatched roof, trying not to think, trying to let go and allow the hallucinogen to take control of his mind. It was no use. All he could think of was Caroline floating away from him, never to return.

  With the help of the drug, his tormented mind conjured all manner of dangers for her. Sudden violent storms were common on the Amazon; the boat could be swamped and lost in the waves that sometimes rivaled the ocean's. He wondered if she could swim. Probably not.

  Then there were rapids that were especially treacherous in the dry season when the river was low and fallen trees lurked beneath the surface to snag even the largest boat.

  The boat could be attacked by natives. Granted, such incidents were very unusual, since most of the aborigines of the Amazon desired as little contact with whites as possible, but the drug he'd smoked dulled his reason and sharpened his imagination. When he did finally fall asleep, he even dreamed of piranha tearing the flesh from her body.

  "I'm all right, Jason," she assured him, walking toward him, a long white gown flowing around her.

  Bending over his hammock, her long, dark hair hanging around her lovely face like a veil, she shrugged the sleeves of the gown from her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the ground. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, smiling as sweetly as an angel.

  Reaching up, he smoothed her silky hair, allowing his hand to slide down her soft, luscious flesh, lifting a heavy breast to his lips, kissing the turgid peak tenderly.

  He could smell the fragrant perfume that always clung to her, taste the sweet saltiness of her skin. He felt himself grow hard with desire as blood rushed through his body, gathering and swelling between his legs. Her hands roamed over his bare shoulders, caressing, tender, a moan of pleasure escaping her parted lips.

  "I love you, Jason," she murmured, her voice thick with passion. "I love you."

  He awoke with a start, his body still rigid with desire, his senses still filled with Caroline. Disoriented, confused, shaken by the traces of dreams that still clung to him, he tried to rise, but the crazy rocking of the hammock, combined with the aftereffects of the drug, sent his head reeling.

  When the blood finally stopped pounding in his veins and his breathing returned to normal, he rolled from the hammock. His bare feet touched the soft, sandy earth, and he realized he was naked except for a thin, irrelevant waistband similar to what the other men wore.

  A groan escaped his lips as he glanced at his arms and his memory began to return, albeit hazily. His arms, chest and legs were covered with dots of red paint, and he knew, though he had no mirror, that his face had been painted as well. He also knew from past experience that the dye wouldn't wear off for at least several days.

  What would Caroline think when she saw him like this?

  Jason blinked his eyes at that thought, shaking his head to clear the fog. He was going after her. He must have decided sometime in the night.

  He didn't know if he was doing the right thing. All he knew was that he couldn't let her go. He didn't expect to ever hear her speak the words she'd spoken in the dream. God, he wasn't even sure he wanted to. He only hoped she wouldn't someday grow to hate him for what he was about to do.

  When Socrates heard of Jason's decision, he insisted that he and several men go with him. And while Jason feared that the boat's captain might open fire at sight of a band of naked, painted savages, he knew he'd never catch the steamer without help. His own boats were laden with coffee and virtually useless. He'd have to travel by canoe, and he needed help rowing.

  Before they departed, Jason bathed in the river, but the dye remained, as he'd known it would. There was no help for it. All he could do was try and lessen the shock to the boat's crew by concealing as much paint as possible with his clothes and hat and by convincing the Yanomami to remain hidden while he talked with the captain and removed Caroline from the boat.

  Overcome by gladness and an urgency to have her with him again, Jason wondered vaguely how he would ever maintain his distance emotionally once this was done. She'd know that he cared enough to go after her; she'd have that much power over him. And as they readied the boats, he worried what would happen if he ever grew to truly love her.

  "What do you mean she never got on the boat?" Jason shouted. He stood on the deck of the small mail boat, acutely conscious of the anxious glances exchanged by the boat's crew of two and the half dozen Yanomami in the canoe lashed to the side of the larger vessel.

  "Sorry, Mr. Sinclair," the captain said, studying the intricately painted patterns on Jason's face. "Like I said, she didn't show up that morning when we left. We gave a couple of blasts on the whistle, but I figured when she didn't show up, she must've changed her mind."

  "Then where the hell can she be?" he asked no one in particular.

  "Mr. Sinclair," the captain said hesitantly, "pardon me for saying so sir, but you and your... friends are making my crew a little nervous. I've told you all I know...."

  "I'm sorry for the trouble," he said, throwing a leg over the side of the boat. "We'll bother you no further."

  When Jason was settled back in the canoe, he explained the situation to his companions, who thought it all quite funny. They pushed away from the mail boat and headed back up the Rio Branco the way they'd come, back to the fazenda.

  Damn her, Jason thought, irrationally angry that she hadn't done as he'd said and gotten on the boat. The small part of him that wasn't angry feared for her safety.

  Why hadn't she gotten on that boat yesterday? Why hadn't he seen her, or Ines for that matter, since? What if something had happened to her?

  Grabbing a paddle, Jason ca
ught the rhythm of the others and rowed with all his might, hoping that she was alive and safe—so he could wring her neck!

  The door banged loudly against the inner wall as Jason pushed it open and stepped into Caroline's sitting room. Nothing seemed amiss or out of place there, except for a bouquet of neglected orchids that drooped over the sides of their vase.

  He crossed the room and attacked the door to her bedroom with the same fervor he'd used in entering the sitting room. Her bags stood in a pile just inside the door, packed and ready to go. The bed was made, the shutters and windows closed tightly.

  Jason slammed the door closed and marched out onto the balcony where Socrates and his friends stood talking and laughing animatedly, obviously enjoying Jason's distress immensely.

  "What do you do now?" Socrates asked.

  Jason brushed past him and his men without a word.

  "Ines!" he called as he crossed the courtyard to the kitchen. "Ines!"

  Ines gasped and turned to face him as he stormed into the small room, her eyes wide with surprise and fear. "Patrao, where have you been? I am worrying-"

  Jason didn't check his pace but moved toward her like a raging beast out of control. Ines shrunk away from the anger in his eyes, but there was no place to go. He was on her in seconds, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her.

  "Where is she?" he demanded.

  "Please, patrao, I don't know what you mean!"

  "Don't lie to me, Ines," he ground out. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. I want to know where Caroline is and I want to know now!"

  Ines gazed past Jason at the curious natives who stood in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she recognized them as Yanomami, the most feared people of the Amazon. She'd known about Master Jason's friendship with them, but he rarely allowed them to come to the house.

  "Ines, tell me!"

  "Patrao, you are hurting me!"

  Horror streaked through him and he released her immediately, stepping back from her, gazing in dismay at his hands. What was happening to him? He was walking a thin line, losing control more and more often.

  "I'm sorry, Ines," he muttered, running his hands through his hair, struggling to still the intense anger that clung to him like a heavy morning mist. Was it Caroline's audacity that drove him toward unconstrained fury or was it only his father's legacy coming to the fore? Either way, he had to maintain the iron restraint he'd always practiced.

  "There is a slave village," Ines was saying.

  "Runaways?" Anger began to boil inside him once again, but this time he managed to defeat it. "Of all the reckless, irresponsible.... Where?"

  Ines shook her head negatively, glancing past Jason at the savages who stood at the door of her kitchen, then back at Jason. "I will take you to her."

  Chapter Ten

  Jason squinted through the warm, steady rain as he used his machete to hack through the tangled verdure. He should have put her on the boat personally. At least if he'd done so, he'd know where to find her now.

  A hand grabbed his arm from behind, and he turned in time to see Ines trip over the twisted branches of a fallen tree. Reacting quickly, he grabbed her by the arm, setting her back on her feet.

  "How much farther?" He shouted over the roar of the storm. The urgency to see Caroline, to make sure she was all right, nearly drove him to madness. And Ines's assurances had done nothing to curb his anxiety.

  "Not far!" Ines replied, slicking her wet hair off of her face.

  He turned back to the trail before him, chopping through the lush jungle vegetation with a vengeance, spurred by a growing anger. Ines should have tried to stop her, and failing that, she should have come to him immediately. As for Caroline, he was beginning to realize that her daring knew no bounds. The fact that she had had the temerity to defy him was bad enough, but on top of that, she'd gone and hidden herself away in the jungle.

  What he wanted to know more than anything was why. Did she have any idea what could happen to her if the slavers found them?

  He shuddered at the thought and redoubled his efforts, pushing himself and those with him unmercifully.

  Ines had been damned uncooperative about the whole situation. "Ask Senhora," she'd said. "I will show you where, but you must promise not to be angry."

  "I'm already angry!" he'd bellowed.

  Angry? What an insufficient word to describe what he was feeling. Right now, he'd like to choke her, as soon as he was satisfied that she was all right.

  The rain gave way to blue sky as the jungle opened into a slight clearing. Crude huts stood in a circle around a grassy square filled with the excited squeals of Indian children chasing a javali, a pig-like animal with long, stiff hair, in a circle.

  Slaves.

  The plantations were probably in Minas Gerais or Mato Grosso hundreds of miles to the south. The runaways had come here to the Amazon jungle in hopes of eluding their masters.

  Most of the structures in the tiny village were thatched huts, but two more permanent buildings stood at opposite ends of the square. Obviously this settlement had been here for some time.

  "How could you have let her come here?" Jason asked, his tone accusing as his gaze burned into Ines's guilty eyes. With the exception of murder, there was no greater crime in Brazil than aiding runaway slaves. Man or woman, the penalty was imprisonment and loss of property. He'd risked it by leaving food and supplies where they could find them, but he'd never visited their village, and he didn't like being here now.

  "How could I have stopped her?" Ines asked meaningfully.

  Yes, how indeed? Once Caroline made up her mind to do something, she was like a force of nature.

  Slowly men and women began emerging from the huts, eyeing him and the Yanomami mistrustfully. Most of them seemed to relax when they saw Ines step forward, but one man remained suspicious.

  He walked toward Jason, his manner arrogant, his movements wary. Nearly as tall as Jason, he presented a threatening demeanor with his muscular frame and uncompromising glare.

  "My name is Jason Sinclair," Jason said in Portuguese. "I believe my wife is here."

  The black man gazed at Ines, who nodded almost imperceptibly. When his eyes returned to Jason, they had lost most of their fire. He appeared suddenly weary, almost vulnerable. "I am Pocedo. Follow me."

  They walked toward the thatched building at the far end of the village. Jason became aware of things he hadn't noticed before—the lack of activity in the village, the sound of coughing and moaning. He could smell the sickness, and his stomach churned to think of Caroline here so close to death and disease.

  There was no door, only an animal skin covering the opening. The large black man pushed it aside and allowed Jason to enter first. What met his gaze chilled him to the bone. Hammocks had been strung throughout the cavernous room, hammocks filled with suffering humanity, some so still they might have been dead.

  She stood beside a hammock, whispering soothingly to its inhabitant. Her soft voice pierced his heart and set the blood pounding through his veins. Part of him wanted to shake her, to berate her for disobeying him. Another part of him wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms and tell her how empty he'd felt inside when he'd thought he'd lost her.

  Sensing their presence, she turned to stare at them with wide-eyed surprise, the signs of fatigue showing plainly on her face.

  "Jason! What are you doing here? Who are these... these..."

  Fear and fury and a wild joy coursed through him, causing his body to shudder with the effort to control the bombardment of emotions, to keep them from showing in his eyes lest she realize the depth of his concern, and use it against him.

  This fragile woman presented a greater danger to him than any raging torrent or pestilence. The jungle could destroy his body, while Caroline and only Caroline could destroy his soul if he gave her the power to do so. It terrified him as nothing else in his life ever had.

  So intent was he on his wife, Jason had forgotten the Yanomami were with him until Caroline
averted her gaze from the naked men who had crowded into the building. Their bodies, like his, were painted with red and black dots and geometric designs.

  What a shock they must present to her. He didn't know how many Indians Caroline had encountered on her trip to the fazenda, but he knew she would not have had any contact with the Yanomami. They were far too cautious for that. They stayed deep in the jungle, far from the white man. The sight of half a dozen naked, painted savages should have terrified her, but he read no fear in her expression, only embarrassment and surprise.

  "Natives," he said, "Yanomami. And they've come with me to find my runaway wife."

  He stepped closer, and Caroline's face registered further shock when she got a good look at him. He'd also forgotten the red dots that covered his own face and body. He knew they stood out much more strikingly against his white skin.

  An uncertain laugh escaped her lips and she stifled it immediately. "I'm sorry. It's just that... What happened?"

  "What are you doing here?" He cut straight to the matter at hand.

  "Whoever they are, they shouldn't be here," Caroline warned, indicating the short, brown Indians with a nod of her head.

  "Why? What's wrong with these people?" Jason asked with an instinctive dread.

  "Measles."

  The word sent a tremor through his body. Diseases had decimated some of the largest tribes in the Amazon. Because of their isolation, the Yanomami had been spared so far, but neither had they been exposed to European diseases enough to develop any measure of resistance.

  Wheeling around, he spoke to Socrates in his native language. "These people have a disease that could be deadly to your people. Get your men out of here immediately and return to the yano. Thank you for your help."

  Socrates nodded, smiling, "She is very plain, Man from Somewhere Else. If you decide to send her away again, remember I have many sisters."

  Jason smiled at his friend's offer and his inaccurate assessment of Caroline. Beauty was indeed in the eye of the beholder. Right now, Jason didn't think he'd ever seen anything as lovely as his wife.