Captive Heart

by Patti Beckman

  JoNell made two more passes before the animals were clear of the "runway." She checked the sway of the trees and tall grasses to determine the direction of the wind.

  "I don't like the length," she reiterated. "It's so short. We'll be cutting it close."

  But Del Toro merely shrugged. "Land," he said.

  "Okay; you asked for it." JoNell headed for the stretch of green pasture, coming in lower than normal. The wheels of the plane tickled the top of the tall grass that fringed the bare, flat ground. Once clear of the grass, she cut the throttle completely and pulled back on the stick. The little plane settled down comfortably and touched ground. JoNell braked the plane rapidly, her muscles tense. They ground to a halt just ten feet from the edge of the meadow.

  "Beautiful!" Del Toro exclaimed. "I knew you could do it."

  She saw tiny beads of perspiration shining on Del Toro's forehead. "You did that on purpose, didn't you—knowing it was a risky landing spot," she fumed. "It wasn't enough for you to learn to fly. You had to test yourself with some kind of danger in an airplane. And you chose me to do it with!"

  "I told you, I despise weakness in a man," he said sternly.

  At that moment, she didn't know whether to admire him or hit him with a wrench.

  Del Toro opened his door and climbed out of the plane. She heard cries of "Del Toro! Seňor Del Toro!" She saw a group of small, dark-skinned men rushing to embrace him. Each man in turn hugged him and patted him on the back—the Latin abrazo used by men who liked and respected one another.

  JoNell got out of the plane on her side. She heard Del Toro speaking to the men in the dialect of the Indian village. She realized these people were direct descendents of the Incas. They had their own language, quite different from the Spanish of Lima. Then Del Toro took her hand, smiled, and rattled off another round of unintelligible phrases. The men grew respectfully silent. They removed their straw hats and held them in front of them in both hands. Then each man presented himself to JoNell, spoke what must have been his name, and bowed to her.

  "You have just been formally introduced as my new wife. Now no man in the village will dare show you anything but the greatest respect. You are safer here than in your own home. So relax."

  "I didn't know my nervousness showed," she said with surprise. She was surprised, not because Del Toro showed concern for her feelings, but because he had noticed them at all. Until now, he had not shown that he was capable of discerning another's emotions. She had thought that he focused only on himself and that he was devoid of empathy.

  Del Toro led JoNell through the tall grass then down a dusty path that brought them into a small settlement of adobe huts. Windowless, with earthen floors and crude wooden furniture, the huts were nestled close together. There was a sameness about the huts, all built in a rectangular shape with a crude chimney on one side. Naked children chased each other in games of tag. Most of the villagers were quite dark with Oriental facial features that gave some credence to the theory that ice age Asians had migrated to the Western world via a Bering Strait land bridge.

  Women came to the doorways to smile and wave. Del Toro bowed to them. "The women here have not heard of 'liberation,'" he said. "They work as their ancestors worked many generations before them. They cook, grind their own corn in stone metates for the tortillas, wash their clothes in the river, and seem quite content."

  "You'd like for all women to be subjugated like that, wouldn't you?" she said testily.

  He merely looked at her and chuckled.

  As they continued into the village, JoNell found herself tiring quickly. She began to breathe heavily. Her legs felt wooden.

  "Do you want to rest?" Del Toro asked, becoming aware of her condition.

  "Yes, thank you," she said a trifle breathlessly.

  "It's the high altitude. You have to acclimate yourself gradually."

  He led her to the stump of a tree, where she sat down with a sigh. She was startled by a sharp squawk. She saw a flash of bright green and yellow feathers in a nearby tree. "A parrot!" she exclaimed.

  "Yes. They are plentiful here on the edge of the jungle."

  After a brief rest, she said she was ready to continue. This time they moved at a much slower pace. Behind them, the group of village men still followed. Their ponchos woven of bright red, yellow and black yarn, which hung from their shoulders to their knee-length tan trousers, contrasted sharply with the somber expressions on their dark faces. They shuffled their sandaled feet smoothly along the dusty path.

  Scattered among the adobe huts were some thatched roof cottages built of a dark red brick. Del Toro led JoNell to one of the cottages and opened a wooden door.

  "This is home," Del Toro said.

  "Home?"

  "Yes. It's mine. This is where I live when I come to the village."

  JoNell entered the cottage while Del Toro remained outside to talk to the group of men who had followed them. Her white sneakers touched the same gray soil they had walked on outside. But inside the cottage, the earth had been swept clean so that the floor was hard and dustless. The structure was one large square room, primitive but very colorful. On one side was a bed made from rough wooden boards. The mattress appeared to be palm leaves topped with straw. An alpaca bedspread of a white and brown pattern covered the straw. A fireplace had been built into the rear wall. Several brick tiers decorated with brightly colored clay pots jutted out from the wall and apparently served as counter tops to prepare food. The seating space was adobe or brick surfaces built along the wall. A table of rough wood was placed before the seats. A wooly llama rug covered the center of the floor. Masks, tapestries depicting large birds and animals and llama rugs hung from the walls.

  JoNell had never before seen anything quite like Del Toro's village cottage. As she moved around the room, becoming familiar with its furnishings, a sensation of relaxation and contentment spread through her. Whether the room had some kind of magical effect on her, or whether it was due to the altitude, she didn't know. She only knew that she felt more relaxed than she had at any time since arriving in Peru.

  She walked over to the bed and rubbed her hand over the alpaca bedspread. It was smooth and soft. She sat on the bed, a smile crossing her lips at the thought of how out of place she looked in her powder-blue jump suit and white sneakers. She was a twentieth-century woman finding herself suddenly in a primitive setting of an earlier time. She stretched out on the bed, snuggling cozily into the soft cloud of the bedspread. Suddenly, she was very sleepy. She dozed briefly.

  "I see you've made yourself at home," said Del Toro's voice, jolting her awake.

  She opened her eyelids with an effort. The first thing she saw was a red and gold poncho topping tan breeches on a figure much taller and more robust than any of the natives she had seen.

  "Why are you wearing that outfit?" JoNell asked, sitting up.

  "These are the native clothes of the village," Del Toro said. "They are more comfortable and better suited for the village."

  He tossed her some garments. "Put these on."

  JoNell picked up a roughly woven red skirt and a poncho of yellow, red and green. On the floor by the bed were a pair of leather sandals.

  JoNell looked nervously around the room. "There's no place to dress," she protested.

  "You needn't worry about your modesty," he said sarcastically. "I'm leaving. There's a problem in the copper mine that I have to take care of immediately."

  "When will you be back?"

  "I don't know. But don't worry about finding your way around. A woman named Angelita lives just next door. She speaks Spanish. I've asked her to look after you."

  With that, he strode out the door, leaving her to dress.

  JoNell sat on the bed for a long moment. She was eager to explore this colorful village, but the altitude had sapped much of her strength. She decided to proceed slowly until she had adjusted to the rarified air, and took her time changing from her jump suit to the native clothing Del Toro had given her. She had
smoothed her ankle length skirt when she heard a soft tapping on the door.

  JoNell slipped the colorful poncho over her head and opened the door to a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman who had Mongolian features. The subtle, oriental slant of her eyes was striking. She was dressed in a yellow, ankle length skirt and had a black and red poncho draped over her shoulders. Covering her thick, black hair was a hat with a crown of straw. The hat's wide brim was covered with a green material.

  "Welcome," she said with a warm smile. "My name is Angelita. I promised Jorge to look after you while he is gone."

  "Come in," JoNell said. "He told me you were our neighbor." She liked this woman immediately. There was a warm earthy quality about her that was absent in the socialites she had met back in Lima.

  "I want to welcome you with this tribal hat," Angelita said. Then she explained, "In these small villages, each region has its own distinctive hat. It's one of our most prized symbols of our heritage. As you see, the hats from our village have a wide green brim."

  JoNell was surprised at Angelita's polish. She had expected a simple native girl, but this woman was obviously quite aware of a life apart from the village.

  "Thank you," JoNell said. "It's very kind of you to offer me a gift so special." She took the hat which was a carbon copy of Angelita's and tried it on.

  "It makes you look quite handsome," said Angelita. "As if you needed any help!"

  "Now I'm sure I like you," JoNell laughed.

  Angelita joined in the laughter. "Have you rested enough to see some of the village?" she asked.

  "Yes, I think so."

  "Jorge told me how the altitude affected you. The main thing to remember is to walk slowly. Life here never hurries, so you needn't worry about rushing around to see everything."

  "You haven't lived here all your life, have you?" JoNell asked as the two women stepped out into the daylight. They began strolling easily down the dirt street.

  "No, but I was born here, as was Miguel."

  "Miguel?"

  "Yes, Jorge's chauffeur. He's my nephew. You have met him?"

  JoNell registered surprise. Now she realized how Miguel knew all about Del Toro's trips to this mountain village.

  "Yes, of course I have met Miguel. But Del To— Jorge didn't tell me you were Miguel's aunt."

  "He wouldn't." Angelita clucked her tongue. "Jorge is a great one for letting people find out things for themselves."

  They passed a small, dark man sitting in front of his hut. His foot pumped rhythmically to spin a small potter's wheel. JoNell stopped to watch. The man smiled at them, revealing several missing teeth, but didn't interrupt his work.

  "He's making pottery," Angelita said. "We sell our crafts to vendors in the large cities."

  "Did you live in the city, Angelita?" JoNell asked, as she watched the clay ball take shape under the potter's skilled hands. He dipped his hands into a bowl of water often and kept the spinning clay wet. The clay spread out gracefully into a wide orb with a thin waist below a smaller orb on top. He worked rapidly and skillfully.

  "For a while. I thought life there would be more rewarding. But after a time, I tired of it. Besides, the villagers needed me here."

  "In what way?"

  "I'm the schoolteacher. After Jorge gave us the money to build our school, the village wanted a teacher. But they didn't want an outsider. I was the most qualified, so I came back."

  "Just like that without any regrets for leaving the city?"

  "Oh, yes!"

  "Are you married, Angelita?"

  The woman's dark, expressive face grew sad. "I was; my husband and little son were killed in an earthquake in the city."

  "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I could cut my tongue out for asking," JoNell said, her face turning pink.

  "That's all right. You didn't know."

  Another man emerged from the hut carrying a finished vase and an assortment of paints in earthenware pots. JoNell watched as he placed the large vessel on the ground and skillfully applied bright colors to form a pastoral scene depicting life in the village. JoNell was surprised at the deftness and speed with which the artisan created colorful parrots in a palm tree and filled in orchids and wild strawberries. Llamas, burros, and alpacas strayed across the vase to merge into the background.

  "He's really talented," JoNell exclaimed.

  "Most of our people are skilled in crafts," said Angelita. "It is another part of our heritage from the Incas. We owe them a great deal for the life we live today."

  In spite of their primitive surroundings, JoNell sensed a great pride in these simple people. She could easily identify with their loyalty to their culture. She had felt much the same when Consuelo had attacked her middle-class background.

  "Would you like to go to the market?" Angelita asked.

  "I'd love to."

  The two women strolled leisurely past the pottery makers. JoNell was thankful that Del Toro had insisted she wear native clothes. She would have felt terribly out of place in her blue jump suit. But dressed as a native, in spite of her obvious Caucasian features, she was beginning to feel a part of the small village. Much of the credit had to go to Angelita. Her friendliness helped JoNell relax and feel accepted.

  The two women rounded a corner in the area where the huts were situated and were confronted by a large, adobe structure with bamboo booths arranged along the exterior walls. Inside the building, the same kinds of booths were filled with produce, meats, fruits and various handcrafts. JoNell was impressed by a collection of dolls wearing the native costume. She wanted to buy one, but realized that Del Toro had forgotten to leave her any money. She didn't even know what the medium of exchange was here. In Lima, it was the sol, but here? She was too embarrassed to ask Angelita to buy a doll for her, even though she knew Jorge would reimburse her later. So she simply admired the dolls and walked on. Another booth held a collection of hand-painted gourds, rattles, drums, reed flutes and horns. Then they came to a jewelry booth. The delicate silver filagree impressed her.

  "This looks quite expensive," JoNell said, holding up a particularly stunning necklace with a jade pendant.

  "It is," Angelita nodded. She indicated the man behind the table. "He really doesn't expect to sell it here. Expensive items like this go to the large cities. He displays it for others to admire. The craftsmen derive much pleasure from competing for compliments on their work."

  "Please tell him for me how gorgeous it is," JoNell asked. "It is truly exquisite."

  Angelita jabbered in the strange, musical-sounding dialect to the jewelryman. He smiled broadly, bobbed his head up and down and jabbered something back.

  Angelita translated. "He is quite happy that you like his work. He will make you a special price if you want to buy it." Angelita quoted JoNell a figure that made her head swim.

  "Tell him thank you, but I better think it over," she said, not wanting to hurt the man's feelings.

  Angelita relayed the message, and the man smiled and bobbed his head again.

  "Would you like for me to help you select some vegetables and meat for supper?" Angelita inquired as they entered the food section of the market.

  "Supper?"

  "Yes, Jorge said you would be cooking for him." Angelita hesitated. "He said you would welcome my assistance, but I don't want to intrude, so if… "

  JoNell felt her expression change from wide-eyed shock to a grateful smile. "That was a look of desperation, not fear of intrusion," she explained. "I couldn't possibly cook a meal here without your help. I wouldn't even know where to begin. Everything is so different."

  Angelita smiled. "Yes, different in a special way that I think you will enjoy."

  "You are right. I don't know when I've been so relaxed."

  Angelita helped JoNell pick out avocados, bananas, oranges, wild strawberries and a sack of wild rice. A stringy looking meat hanging on a hook in the open air was the only choice. JoNell asked for a slice off the hindquarter that looked a little redder than the rest.

>   "There are spices at the house and cooking utensils," Angelita explained. "But since we have no refrigeration, we buy our fruits, vegetables and meats fresh every day."

  Their final purchase was a loaf of a hard-crusted bread. Angelita paid for everything with soles, the usual Peruvian money.

  JoNell noted how each purchase was wrapped separately in what appeared to be large leaves and tied with a rough twine. Angelita took from under her poncho two woven shopping bags. They sacked their purchases and started home.

  "What kind of a man is Del—Jorge, really?" JoNell asked, nibbling a succulent strawberry as she walked.

  "You should know that better than I." Angelita said with gentle surprise.

  JoNell caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Del Toro had warned her not to reveal their business arrangement to anyone.

  "I have seen only the 'big city Jorge'," she explained. "I was just wondering if he is so different in this small village."

  "How fortunate that you will have the opportunity to find out now that you are here," Angelita said with a smile. "To us here, Jorge is the big patron, the big, kind boss. Without his copper mine, this would be the poorest of villages. It is our main industry. Many men of the village work in the mine. But Jorge does more than pay their salaries. He paid for our school; he pays a doctor to come to the village clinic to tend the sick once a month. He sends a dentist here, also. Whenever we have a need we can't take care of in the village, we know that our patron, Jorge Del Toro, will provide for us. He is our benefactor. Without him, the village would not be as happy a place to live."

  JoNell was silent, puzzling over Angelita's words which were so much an echo of what Miguel had told her. It was hard for her to imagine Jorge Del Toro as a kind benefactor and hero to anyone. He had only shown her his selfish, ruthless nature. Unless Miguel and Angelita were in cahoots, there must be another side to Del Toro that JoNell had never seen. It was hard to believe that Angelita would lie to her. She seemed so genuine. Yet, she was the only person JoNell had spoken to in the village and might be the only one there who could talk Spanish. If that were so, JoNell would have only Angelita's word for Del Toro's kind deeds. For a reason she couldn't fathom, it was becoming increasingly urgent that she get to know the real Jorge Del Toro.