The drums stopped abruptly. A man emerged from the night playing a lonesome one-note melody on a reed-like instrument. A small, dark woman with her hair in a tight knot on her head and dressed in a long, white gown, stepped gracefully into the foreground. After each footstep she raised on her toes, paused, her eyes downcast, and then took another step. She was followed by a young man dressed in a simple black outfit. A woman's thin, high voice began to moan a sorrowful song.
"What's this?" JoNell asked.
"It's the yaravi. It's a song and dance about love."
JoNell felt a wave of panic. She didn't want to sit here watching a ritual love dance while she was acutely aware of Del Toro's broad shoulder brushing against hers. But she was trapped. There was no escape for her.
The young girl in white moved slowly around the arena, tossing orchids from a basket she had picked up from the ground. The young man followed her, always just beyond arm's reach, his hands extended as if trying to catch his elusive love object. He picked up one of the flowers she had dropped, buried his face in it and appeared to be crying.
The two dancers continued their ritual until at last the young woman appeared to notice the young man and offered him an orchid. He took it and began dancing exuberantly to the beat of excited drums. The girl stood by looking demure. Then the man scooped the girl up in his arms, and carried her away into the night.
"That's how love should be," JoNell thought dismally.
"This is the huanyo, a song and dance for couples," said Del Toro as a new group of performers moved into the torchlight.
By now JoNell was too miserable to enjoy the show. She scarcely noticed the bright turquoise and silver dresses of the women and the black and red trousers of the men. The lively music and intricate dance were wasted on her. She had no idea when she came here tonight that the festive dances would be such compelling symbols of love and touch such a vulnerable spot in her heart.
How hypocritical she felt! Everyone in this village thought her marriage to Del Toro was genuine, and they were doing their utmost to try and please her by celebrating her wedding. But what the village thought was love binding her and Del Toro together was nothing more than a business contract.
When the dances ended, Del Toro helped JoNell from the chair and they started back to their cottage. A short distance away, JoNell spied Angelita who was being escorted by a man who JoNell assumed was Angelita's widower. The woman winked, waved and smiled. JoNell forced herself to respond with a smile. There was no point in letting Angelita know how miserable she was.
When they were back at the cottage, Del Toro told JoNell that they would be leaving the village the next afternoon. She reacted with a mixture of relief and regret. There would always be a special corner of her heart reserved for memories of this village and its simple, warm-hearted people.
"Before we leave, I have something for you," Del Toro said. He handed her an object wrapped with a large leaf.
JoNell recognized the wrapping as the type used at the marketplace. She opened the package. A gasp escaped her lips. It was the exquisite necklace she had admired the day she and Angelita had toured the market!
"I see you've been checking up on me with Angelita," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"She's the only one who could have told you I admired this necklace in the marketplace."
"Then you do like it?"
"Yes, it's beautiful. But you needn't have gone to the trouble," she said tonelessly.
The necklace was like all the flowers he had sent her—merely a gesture with no real meaning. It was his way of paying her for the role she was playing.
She said, "I don't need to be paid for my services here in the village. When I married you, I agreed to pretend our marriage was authentic. You've already paid me by buying those airplanes through my father's business. You don't have to pay me again for doing my job." The look she gave him was hard and resentful.
Del Toro's eyes smoldered with dark fires. "Well, I thought you deserved something for the overtime you've put in," he snapped ironically.
"There's not enough jewelry in all of Peru to pay me for my 'overtime' as you so crudely put it."
They exchanged looks of bitter fury. They were strangers again, cold and distant. Del Toro stalked out of the hut, slamming the door with a resounding thud.
Tears sprang to JoNell's eyes and spilled over. She looked at the silver necklace and drew it to her bosom. How she would cherish it if Del Toro had given it to her because of his love for her. She would put it on and never take it off. She would be the happiest woman who ever drew breath. But instead, the necklace began to burn her palm. She tossed it on the bed as if it had suddenly become fiery. She glared at it. It symbolized the painful situation she was in. In her emotional state, she thought the lacy filigree began to resemble a pit of serpents, writhing in a mocking reflection of her heartbreak. Suddenly she hated the necklace and she hated Del Toro for giving it to her.
Chapter 8
JoNell had settled down at the desk in the study to draft a letter to her parents when she heard Maria, the maid, answer the front door. There was a murmur of voices. Then Maria came to the study door. "It is seňor Rafael Garcia. He asks to see you."
JoNell nibbled at her lower lip. Del Toro would be angry if she allowed Rafael to visit her—and yet, she thought rebelliously, why not? Her sagging morale needed a boost. She had been miserably depressed since the trip to the mountain village.
She nodded to Maria.
"Hello, seňor Garcia," she smiled when Maria showed him into the room.
"Seňora Del Toro. It is a pleasure to see you again." He bowed politely and kept his greeting formal for the benefit of the maid, but the adoration in his eyes brought a flush of warmth to JoNell's lonely heart.
"Maria, would you please serve us tea in here?"
"Yes, seňora."
Rafael waited until the maid had left the room. Then he took a chair close to JoNell's. His gaze lingered on her face. "JoNell, it is so good to see you. I phoned several times—"
"We spent a few days at a mining camp. We've been back for a week, though."
"I know." His dark eyes were brooding somberly. "I keep in touch with your whereabouts. I knew you had returned to the city, but I had made up my mind not to try and see you any more. It was a decision my mind made, but my heart could not keep as you see."
She smiled at him fondly. "Rafael, what am I going to do about you? You know the situation is hopeless. I've tried to make that clear to you,"
"I know," he sighed. "But again, it is my mind that listens, not my heart." He was thoughtful for a moment, his brooding eyes studying her face. "No, perhaps my mind, too, has doubts. Somehow, I just can't be convinced that you are happy with Jorge Del Toro. There is always a look of sadness in your eyes; not the radiant happiness of a new bride—"
JoNell flushed, glancing down at her fingers.
Fortunately the maid interrupted them with the tea tray. As Maria was arranging the dishes, JoNell made casual conversation. "How are you occupying your time these days, seňor Garcia?"
"Oh, I have started a new job. My cousin has a Mercedes Benz dealership. He decided with my country club membership and social contacts, I would make a good salesman. Those are the kind of people who buy expensive cars. So far my commissions have been better than I expected."
"Good for you. Congratulations!"
The maid left. Rafael munched a pastry, his eyes thoughtful and brooding again. "Yes, soon I could support a wife. Not, of course, with the wealth of a Jorge Del Toro—"
His meaning was quite clear. Again JoNell's cheeks flushed. "Rafael, it is not fair for you to have such hopes—"
"Tell me honestly how you feel about me, JoNell."
"Honestly?"
"Yes… truthfully. Do not spare my feelings."
She had to think for a moment. Her emotions had been so confused since the trip to the mountain village, she could not answer such a question easily. That
she was in love with Jorge Del Toro was a painful fact she could not escape. And that her love was not returned was an equally painful fact. And in the midst of that emotional turmoil, how did she feel about Rafael Garcia? She searched her heart and gave him the most honest answer she could find. "You are a fine person, gentle, kind, considerate. I am quite fond of you, Rafael."
He brooded over her reply for a moment, then said, "At least I have that much. Is it a fondness that could grow into love some day?"
She hesitated. "I—I honestly don't know at this point, Rafael. I'm afraid I'm mixed up, confused about a lot of things."
"I'm not going to give up until I know it is hopeless," he said stubbornly.
Impulsively, she rested her hand on his. "Could we be friends for now, Rafael? I do need a friend."
"Of course I am your friend. Confidant, companion, big brother, friend, lover—I will be what you want me to be. Just tell me. What I wish, of course, is to be your lover and your husband. But I can be patient. I have felt certain from the beginning that your marriage to Del Toro is not a happy one and it is destined to end in divorce. Several things have happened lately that strengthen that belief, and when the time comes, I will be waiting."
She looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean, 'several things have happened lately'?"
"The look in your eyes today for one thing. You are a new bride. You have just been off on a romantic trip with your husband to an isolated mountain mining camp. You should be singing and radiant. But when I look into your eyes, what do I see? Only loneliness and sadness—"
She glanced away. "Perhaps you should not look so deeply into my eyes," she whispered.
"And Del Toro—he does not act like a devoted husband. You do not see much of him, do you?"
She frowned. "How do you know so much about it?"
"You forget I have known Jorge Del Toro since childhood. We live in the same social world, have the same friends and business acquaintances. We are even distantly related, third or fourth cousins, I believe. At any rate, I know a great deal about where Jorge goes and what he does, probably more than you do, JoNell. In our culture, the man's world is separate from the woman's world. A man's friends or acquaintances may know more about his daily life away from home than does his own family."
"What are you trying to tell me?"
"What I said, that Jorge spends very little time at home with you."
"It's true I haven't seen him much since we got back," she admitted. "He has many business matters that take his time."
"Yes, business, and other matters."
She frowned at him. "What does that mean?"
He hesitated. "I should not have said that. It will only make me appear small in your eyes. And yet, I do not like to stand by and see you hurt and betrayed by a husband who cares nothing for you."
She felt a sudden tightness and pounding in her temples. "What—what do you mean, 'betrayed'?"
Rafael hesitated again. He looked down at his hands, spreading them on his knees. He shook his head slowly. "Forgive me for being the one to tell you this, JoNell. But I must. Jorge has been seeing my sister, Consuelo. They have met for cocktails in the afternoon. Once they had dinner in a secluded restaurant where he used to take her before he married you."
The blood drained from JoNell's face. She felt as if her heart had been impaled on a sharp spike. In that first moment she could only feel humiliation and hurt. Anger would come later.
"I'm sorry. I know you are upset. But I can't help but think Consuelo is right. She's convinced in her mind that Jorge married you because he needed an American wife for business purposes. She thinks it's a temporary situation, and she'll eventually get him back. Maybe he's even told her that. At any rate, she's very determined and very sure of herself."
JoNell arose and walked slowly to a window. She looked out at the garden through a haze of tears. Rafael had only confirmed what she'd known in her heart all along. But for another to confirm the truth hurt unbearably. If only she hadn't fallen in love with Jorge! What a hurtful trick her treacherous heart had played on her!
"JoNell," Rafael said gently. He had risen and moved behind her. Now she felt his hands on her shoulders. "I must go, but remember I am always close by if you need me. Whatever you need, whatever I can give you, you have only to ask me."
She nodded numbly.
"JoNell," he said huskily, "that first night on the balcony, I begged you for just one kiss, remember? I want to ask you again. It is a selfish request that comes only from my lonely heart."
How well she knew the meaning of an empty, lonely heart! How could she deny another heart in pain? She raised her face to his. For a long moment their eyes met, and then she closed hers, offering her lips. His mouth was warm and eager against hers.
She truly wished Rafael would awaken the trembling passion she felt in Del Toro's embrace. But after what Rafael had told her about Del Toro and Consuelo, she felt nothing except numbness.
"My loved one," Rafael whispered. "I know there is no passion in your kiss for me. You are too decent a woman to be married to one man and feel passion for another, even if you do not love the man who is your husband. But your kiss gives me hope. It will give me reason to live until the time comes when you grow to love me."
He clasped her hands in his, kissing them. Then he was gone.
JoNell spent the remainder of the day aimlessly wandering around the mansion, her thoughts chaotic, her emotions storm-swept. Rafael's news that Del Toro was secretly seeing Consuelo should have come as no surprise. Nevertheless, it had forced her to face abruptly the cold reality of Del Toro's love for his lifelong sweetheart, and JoNell's position as an outsider. And that reality hurt more than she had imagined it would.
Late that afternoon, Maria brought her a message that deepened her anguish. "Seňor Del Toro phoned, seňora. He asked me to tell you that a pressing business matter has called him out of the city overnight. He will be back tomorrow."
JoNell stared at her dully. She drew a breath that was painful and nodded. "Thank you, Maria."
Why did he bother to make up such lies? He had made it clear from the beginning that he owed her nothing in this marriage except the financial arrangement with her parents, and she, in return, only had to pretend to the world that she was his wife. Did he feel guilty, having consummated the marriage, to be going to another woman? She supposed even a man as ruthless as Jorge Del Toro could have a conscience.
In any case, she knew that the "pressing business matter" that kept him away from home tonight was another tryst with Consuelo. Would she know the passion in his arms tonight that had been JoNell's those nights he had come to her bedroom?
The thought burned in her breast with throbbing despair.
That night, she cried herself to sleep on her lonely pillow. And when she awoke, the feeling of loneliness was close to a sensation of panic. She was alone in this huge mansion, alone in the city of Lima. She felt like a lost child in a strange and hostile forest.
She needed desperately to hear the voice of someone who loved and cared about her. Suddenly she found a telephone in her hand, heard herself putting in a long distance call to Florida.
When her mother's voice came on the line, JoNell had to make a superhuman effort to keep from bursting into tears.
"JoNell!" her mother exclaimed. "How good to hear your voice. Is everything all right, honey?"
JoNell swallowed hard. She took a slow, deep breath. Somehow she made her voice sound cheerful—a bit of acting that could have won her a drama award. "Everything's just fine, Mother," she said brightly. "I was feeling a little homesick… wanted to hear your voice…"
"Well, we miss you, sweetheart."
"How's Daddy?"
"Oh, so much better. He's more like his old self every day. You know how he used to like to joke and tease all the time. He's trotting out all his old corny gags, and I'm pretending to laugh at them again. I really am laughing, not at the jokes, but because I'm so happy for him," she chuc
kled.
Tears were beginning to trickle down JoNell's cheeks. "How's the office, and the hangar, and my little plane? And that old striped alley cat that hangs around—?"
"Everything's just like you left it, honey. Uncle Edgar was tinkering with your plane yesterday, giving it a tune-up. The alley cat had kittens. Oh, and we're going to have a party."
"A party?"
"Yes, you know this week is our wedding anniversary. I thought we'd decorate the house up a bit and have a few friends and relatives over. I really feel in a festive mood. I just wish you could be here—"
JoNell's breath caught in her throat. "I will be there!"
"What?"
The blood was suddenly pounding in her temples. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. In a rush she said, "Yes. I mean it, Mother. I'm going to fly home for a visit…"
Yes, she would throw a few things into a suitcase and go straight to the airport. With luck, she could be home tonight, close to the people and surroundings she had known since childhood. She would feel safe and loved again.
"JoNell, do you really mean it?" her mother was babbling excitedly. "Oh, that would make everything just perfect! But how about your husband? He's coming too, isn't he?"
JoNell had to do some fast thinking. "Jorge is very busy right now, Mother. As you know, we're planning to move to the States. But he has a lot of business matters to wind up before we can make the move. He urged me to go ahead and fly home for a visit—"
She crossed her fingers as she told the fib. But after the monstrous lies she had told about her marriage, this seemed a very small untruth.
"He must be the most considerate husband in the world. You're so lucky, JoNell!"
Again tears seared her eyes. "Lucky?" she whispered.
"What, dear?"
She blinked away the burning tears. "Nothing, Mother. Listen, I'm going to the airport right now. If I'm lucky, I can get a flight out before noon. I'll call you from the airport and tell you when we'll reach Miami. Okay?"
Captive Heart Page 14