by Deborah Cox
"He received word on the last mail boat that his father is ill, so he left immediately for Portugal, judging by Senhor Aveiro's advanced age, I can only imagine that his father must be over a hundred years old."
"But, Senhora," Ignacio said, twisting his hat nervously. "What are you doing?"
"I'm keeping the books," she replied impatiently. He acted as if he'd caught her with her hand in the till.
"You can't!" he insisted vehemently.
"Why not?"
"Because... because..."
"Because I'm a woman?" she asked angrily.
She'd received the same reaction from men in New Orleans when they learned that her position at the Sinclair Coffee Company entailed a little more than smiling and looking pretty. Filling her lungs with air, Caroline launched into her defense. "I kept the books for the Sinclair Coffee Company for a year. I paid the bills, placed the orders—"
"No, Senhora," Ignacio managed to interrupt. "Because... well, you know the patrao, how he is. He likes to make all the decisions."
Caroline settled back into the comfortable leather chair. "Well, then he shouldn't stay away so long."
"I told him the same thing," Ignacio assured her. "When he finds out what you've done, he will—"
"He will be angry, I know!" Caroline rolled her eyes and gazed toward the ceiling as if beseeching heaven. "Everything I do or say or even think about doing or saying makes the patrao angry. I don't care! He's not here and I'm not as confident as you are that he will ever come back as long as—"
She cut her speech short before she blurted as long as I'm here.
"I must write to the patrao and tell him so he can hire another man while he is in Manaus," Ignacio told her, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Caroline cried, coming to her feet once again. How could she explain her need to keep busy? The opportunity to keep the books had come at a time when she desperately needed something to occupy her mind.
"Ignacio, please," she pleaded, trying to keep the urgency from her voice, "let me do it. Give me a month. If I don't do a good job, you can take a boat and go to Manaus to find someone yourself."
Ignacio scratched his head in indecision. "I don't like it. You should not anger the patrao."
"I only have to breathe to anger the patrao. Please, Ignacio. Maybe he won't be angry. Maybe he'll be glad I'm so resourceful. Besides, it'll save him money. He'll be happy about that, especially since I had to order a new water pump tor the beneficio."
"You did what?"
Stunned by the horror on Ignacio's face, Caroline felt a prickling of apprehension and prepared to defend her position once again. "It stopped working, so I sent an order back with the last mail boat. In the meantime, they've had to use a hand pump."
"Oh, Senhora, you shouldn't have done that!" Ignacio said, making the sign of the cross in front of his chest.
"Stop it!" Caroline snapped, anger pushing the momentary fear from her mind. "I had to. The fazenda can't operate without water power."
"Senhora, it is an old pump."
"Yes, I know," Caroline said, settling in her chair once again. "High time it was replaced."
"It breaks all the time."
Caroline nodded agreement. "My point exactly."
"It breaks, Luis fixes it. Master Jason isn't a man who spends money freely. He has had that pump for nine years."
"Freely? Surely he knows there are things he has to spend money on to keep the fazenda running?" Stony silence met her words. Gazing at the horrified Ignacio, her temper rose steadily. "Luis wasn't here to fix it this time!"
Caroline watched Ignacio's inner struggle as the clock on the study wall ticked away the seconds. Surely he could see her point. Why continue to fix a piece of equipment that broke regularly? It took time away from harvesting the coffee, which was the main occupation of the fazenda. There was plenty of money in the plantation account to cover a new pump.
"Maybe you're right," Ignacio said unconvincingly. "That pump was old and worn out."
"Of course I'm right," Caroline said with a smile of relief. If Ignacio agreed with her, it must have been the right thing to do. "We had no choice."
Swallowing the nagging doubt in the back of her mind, Caroline added, "Besides, I'll take full responsibility."
"The boat, Senhora!" Ines called. "It is coming!"
Caroline stopped in the motion of snipping a parsley stem and came to her feet, lifting her head to listen as the sound of a steam whistle rent the air.
Her whole being trembled as she walked slowly along the narrow path between the well-defined rows of Ines's herb garden, the handle of a wicker basket draped over her arm.
Finally, he'd come home. Finally, the waiting was over, the wondering, the frustration. Her heart faint with dread, she remembered how they'd parted more than five months ago. Was he still angry about the letters? Was he ready to face his past and the fact that she knew much of it so that they could get on with their lives?
Uneasiness settled in her chest every time she considered that Jason, who had built his life in such a way that he could completely avoid contact with civilization, had spent so much time in the city. No matter how much he hated the city, he'd chosen it over her. How would he react when he found her still here? The thought filled her with dread.
At the edge of the garden nearest the kitchen, she stopped in indecision. Should she rush down to the pier to greet her husband with open arms or ignore his arrival and continue with the day as she'd planned it? She'd made a fool of herself once, running down to meet him, only to find that he hadn't returned with his men.
How dare he just float home on a Tuesday morning and expect her to be waiting eagerly?
Her bottom lip quivered and she cursed herself for allowing the pain of rejection to seep through her control. She took a ragged breath as another whistle blast sounded.
"Come, Senhora!" Ines called, running across the patio, her face beaming with delight. "Master Jason is back! Let's go meet the boat!"
Ines grabbed her arm, but Caroline remained immobile. "No. You go on."
"But Senhora! Master Jason—don't you want to see him after so long?"
"Not particularly." If only it were true, Caroline mused, trying not to meet Ines's gaze for fear the other woman would read something in her eyes.
"But why not?"
"Go, Ines! Meet the boat. I have a garden to tend."
Ines called after Caroline as she turned to go. "But you can do that later! I will help."
"Ines! I am not going to run down to the pier like some silly girl! Go if you like. I'm staying here."
Her face a twisted mask of confusion and hurt, Ines tried to reason with her. "Maybe he will not be still angry."
"I don't care," Caroline said tiredly.
"But—"
Caroline walked away, back down the garden path to the place she'd left when the steam whistle had sounded. There were herbs to be cut and weeds to be pulled. Life went on, in spite of Jason Sinclair.
Three mail boats had come and gone in Jason's absence, and Caroline had come close to boarding each and just sailing away from this place and her unreasonable, heartless husband. He didn't want her; he would never want her. Even if his anger had cooled during his prolonged visit to Manaus, he would never forgive her for the letters. Those damned letters!
She snipped a sprig of basil and placed it neatly in her basket, careful not to mix the herbs together.
He'd arrived for the final battle, she knew, the last skirmish in the war they'd been waging since the day she stepped off the mail boat. They'd each had ample time to assemble their resources and formulate a plan of attack. Now all that remained was for one or the other of them to open fire.
Pushing with the back of her hand at an errant curl that had slipped out from under her wide hat, she settled back on her heels, listening for another whistle blast in spite of her resolve.
With a determined sigh, Caroline deposited her small scissors in the basket and stood up, wiping h
er dirty hands on her skirt. She'd take the herbs to the kitchen and then occupy herself elsewhere. This time, she would not be the one to seek him out.
None of the arguments mattered. No matter how fiercely he tried to convince himself to do otherwise, he could think of nothing but seeking her out. He didn't want to face her. He'd spent the last five months hiding from her and the unwanted emotions she stirred in him. He didn't want to wonder if she'd look the same, if her skin would be as clear and sweet as he remembered it.
And yet somehow, without making a conscious decision, he found himself in Ines's herb garden. Caroline was there, as Ines had said she would be, bending over the plants that had pushed their way through the earth. Her light dress of pale rose cotton swathed her body in a way that made it evident she'd forgone corset and petticoats.
A wide straw hat shielded her face and head from him, but he heard her sigh before she straightened wearily and wiped her hands on her skirt.
He couldn't help marveling at her ethereal beauty, her fragile grace, her sensual power. She stood for a moment, her face lifted, her eyes straining toward the distant dock, and his foolish heart quickened at the thought that she was looking for him, thinking of him.
Oh, Caroline, how I've missed you. The thought leaped to mind before he could crush it.
Why was she still here? Why hadn't she left while he was gone? It would have made it so much easier all the way around. Unless....
His gaze followed her hand as it moved caressingly over her gently rounded abdomen.
"Hell and damn," he muttered under his breath, shock vibrating through his being. He'd known it was possible, but somehow he hadn't really believed it would happen.
He couldn't take his gaze away from her belly. He couldn't stop thinking about his seed growing inside her, his child. It filled him with joy and terror.
Stepping back so that the shadows of the jungle concealed him, he watched her walk away toward the house. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, what he thought he'd wanted. A child. His own child. The very thought scared the hell out of him.
Chapter Fourteen
The door to the study flew open and Caroline glanced up from the ledger with a gasp. Jason stood in the doorway, his face registering shock as he stared at her in wide-eyed confusion.
Her heart hammering in her chest, Caroline tried to still the trembling that had overtaken her at the sight of him. He looked the same but not the same. Lines of fatigue creased the flesh around his eyes. His hair had grown longer and hung nearly to his shoulders. A day's growth of stubble shadowed the lower half of his face. His wrinkled clothes appeared as worn as he did.
Anger and joy mingled in her chest. How she'd missed him, even if he was perpetually angry. They had parted so bitterly. The months of waiting, waiting for another chance to reach him, to make him love her, had seemed interminable.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked as he moved toward her like a jaguar stalking its next meal.
Swallowing hard, Caroline managed to find her voice. She would not be intimidated by him. "Senhor Aveiro received word that his father was ill."
He placed his hands on the desk and leaned across it toward her. She'd forgotten how tall he was. Even when she stood before him, his size dwarfed her, made her feel small and helpless. But seated as she was now, he towered over her like a tall Amazon canopy tree over a palm.
Fighting the urge to recoil from the cold anger in his eyes, she continued, "He—he had to leave immediately for Portugal. There was no one else...."
Jason slammed his fist on the desk and Caroline jumped. The force of the blow set everything on the desk to trembling.
"Why didn't you send word?" he asked between clenched teeth.
"I knew I could do the job," she replied, unable to keep her voice from shaking. "I kept the books for Derek."
Jason seemed not to hear her. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he withdrew a piece of paper that he flung onto the desk. "Are you responsible for this?"
Caroline's heart grew cold as she recognized the purchase requisition she'd drafted for the new water pump.
"I can explain," she muttered past the lump in her throat.
"I might have known," Jason said, his voice soft and full of loathing. "You forged Senhor Aveiro's signature."
"It—it was the easiest thing...."
Caroline fell silent as Jason's booming laughter filled the room. "God, you amaze me!"
"I knew that the companies in Manaus were accustomed to dealing with Senhor Aveiro," she hurried to explain, though she doubted he was listening to her. "Instead of writing and trying to explain the situation, it made more sense to handle it that way."
"You had no right! What the hell were you thinking?"
"Please do not swear at me, Jason!" She came to her feet, facing his irrational fury with calm poise—on the outside at least. On the inside, her heart quaked and her body trembled with apprehension.
"I should do more than that! I should wring your neck!"
Trying to remain calm in the face of his fury, Caroline said, "The water pump was broken and—"
"It breaks regularly."
"I know. That's my point."
After her talk with Ignacio, Caroline had expected some initial resistance from Jason, but not this unreasonable fury. It was only natural that he be frugal after living in poverty for the first part of his life, but how many times had he repaired a worn-out piece of machinery to keep from spending a little money? "The pump needed replacing months—perhaps years—ago."
"Who gave you the authority to make a decision like that? To spend my money? It breaks and Luis repairs it and it works again. You had no right!" He slammed his fist on the desk again for emphasis.
"Luis was with you!" She took great pride in reminding him and watching the color rise to his throat and the fury flame in his eyes. "Besides, have you ever stopped to think about how much time you waste repairing an old, worn-out pump? Time that you could use more productively?"
"That is none of your concern! I thought I'd made myself clear that I didn't want you sticking your nose into my business!"
"I was only trying to help," she said, forcing the tears from her eyes. "You know, with a new pump, you could harvest the coffee much more quickly. The faster you can wash it and dry it and get it off the patios, the sooner you can harvest more. In fact," she went on, lifting a book from the edge of the desk and riffling through it, "the man who wrote this book says that you can increase the drying time twofold by—"
She released a cry of surprise as the book went flying from her hands and Jason's booming voice shuddered through her.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the suddenly small room. He took a deep breath and when he spoke again, his voice was more controlled. "I don't want to hear about your theories on coffee cultivation. I don't care that you decided the pump needed replacing. I want you to stop...." He paused, a growl of rage rumbling up from his chest and trembling through his body. "Stop interfering with my life!"
Movement in the hallway behind Jason caught her attention. Glad for the time to gather her composure, she called, "What is it, Vincente?"
Jason released a sigh and moved away, standing in a corner against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him. Vincente entered the room cautiously.
"Are you all right, Senhora?" he asked, darting a warning glare at Jason, despite his apparent unease.
From his corner, Jason snorted and returned the boy's stare with an expression that Vincente evidently understood, though its meaning was lost on Caroline. The boy stiffened, his face and throat reddening as he turned away from Jason and gazed at her sheepishly.
"We have unloaded the water pump," Vincente said, standing before her, twisting his hat in his hand. "What should we do with it?"
Caroline gazed at Jason, wondering what had passed between the two of them. Vincente was just a boy, a boy who felt obligated to protect her because she'd saved his life. Now she was the one who felt protective.
"Senhora," Vincente prompted, drawing Caroline back from her musings, "the pump. What shall we do with it?"
Caroline glared at Jason. "I suppose you should ask the patrao, now that he's back."
"It's your pump," Jason grumbled from the corner.
"Very well," Caroline said stiffly, lifting her chin in defiance. "Have it taken to the beneficio. The patrao will decide what to do with it after that."
With a nod and a last frightened glance at Jason, Vincente quickly exited the room.
"You frightened Vincente," Caroline accused as soon as they were alone.
Jason shrugged. "He presumes too much. You may have every man on the fazenda under your spell, but there are some things I will not abide."
"Vincente is just a boy," she reasoned.
"Boy or not, I will not tolerate anyone interfering between me and my wife."
A thrill raced up her spine at the possessiveness in his words. Perhaps he cared more than he was willing to admit, or was he only protecting his property as he would have done with anything else he owned?
"Why didn't you just have them take the pump off the boat before you left Manaus?" she asked, steering the conversation onto safer ground.
"How could I?" Jason reasoned, pushing away from the wall. "I'd have damaged Senhor Aveiro's credibility. The next time he ordered something from that company, I'd have to vouch for him. And word would get around to the other merchants I deal with. You put me in an untenable position."
"I'm sorry." But she wasn't sorry, not really. She was right. Why couldn't he admit it? And why did she get the impression that he was only using the water pump as a diversion from whatever was really bothering him? "This isn't about the pump at all, is it?"
"How long did it take you to master Aveiro's signature?" he asked, ignoring her question. "You're really good at forgery. Maybe you should become a criminal.''
"I thought I was doing the right thing. I still believe so. Why are you so angry? I'm the one who should be angry. You were gone far longer than necessary. When the pump quit, Luis wasn't here to repair it. It took two men to operate the hanci pump. We were already short workers because of the men you'd taken with you to Manaus, men who should have been back more than a month before they finally returned. There was coffee ready to be picked and no way to keep it from ruining once it was in the beneficio. If I'd waited for you to return, we would have lost half of this year's crop."