“You must have burned.”
“Hmm?”
“Linda said you sun-burned easily.”
He sent her a mock scowl. “How personal was that talk you two had anyway?”
“Not very. But we were trying to imagine what it was you were doing down here, and she mentioned that you’d never done well in the sun.”
“Like too many other things, I’d never given it a chance. Sure, I burned at the start, but then my skin became conditioned. I don’t have to think about it now.”
Chelsea shifted her cheek against the pillow. Her gaze broke from his to slowly glide from one to another of his features. “Your tan looks nice. You look younger than your pictures … . It’s odd, actually.”
“How so?”
Her eyes continued to roam his face as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. “In the pictures I saw, your skin was perfectly smooth. Now I see creases,” she traced them with one finger, “on your forehead, at the corners of your eyes and in your cheeks when you smile. You look more mature, but younger.” She scrunched up her nose. “Does that make sense?”
“I don’t know,” he said softly.
“It’s like … like your face is alive now and the lines are from living. Like you’re experiencing life, and the satisfaction shows up on your face.” She blushed, but something drove her on. “I like the mustache, too. It makes you look adventurous.”
Recapturing her gaze, Sam held it for long moments. Then, with a nearly inaudible moan, he slid his arm beneath her and drew her close to rest in the crook of his shoulder.
“Sam, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Chels,” he soothed. He took the glass from her fingers and set it on the ground behind her, then snuggled her more comfortably in his arms. “Just lie here. Let me feel you against me. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve felt at peace this way.”
There was no way on earth Chelsea could have argued with him. His chest was a far better pillow than the real one, and his long arm encircled her, making her feel wanted and needed and protected. She, too, felt at peace. Comfortable. Languorous.
“You okay?” he breathed against her temple.
“Mmmmm.” She put her hand on his chest, resting her fingers on the fine cushion of hair there. It wasn’t a sensual kind of contact, nor was the way he held her. Rather, it was a quiet closeness, a comfort, an unspoken statement of the beauty of human understanding.
Within minutes, Chelsea was fast asleep.
When she awoke, it was morning. The sun shone through the cracks in the wall, but she didn’t notice, because the first thing that struck her was that she was encased in a fully closed web. Groggy and disoriented, she panicked.
5
REACTING PURELY on instinct, Chelsea began to struggle. She kicked out at her webbed cocoon, elbowed it, shoved it away from her face. When it seemed to be closing in on her she began to claw at it, to no avail. Finally she blinked, half-expecting to find herself eye to eye with an oversized tarantula, then blinked again … at which point she grew absolutely still. Only her eyeballs moved then, tracing a slow, cautious arc.
Letting out a ragged breath, she sagged limply against the pillow beneath her head. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered. “He’s made his point … . Sam?” she called. “Sam!” The point, of course, was that she wouldn’t be falling out of the hammock. Point made, the problem had reversed itself. “How do I get out of this thing?” she wailed, but no one answered, no one came running. It appeared that she was on her own.
Part of her was grateful that she’d been spared the embarrassment. Sam would have laughed, and rightfully so. She must have looked like an absolute fool, writhing the way she had. Her huipile was twisted in wrinkles around her hips, her hair curled wildly about her face, her fingers were taut against the weave of the hammock—even she would have laughed, had it not been for the task ahead.
Carefully she studied her webbed cage. The hammock rose high on both sides of her, but mosquito netting had been drawn fully around and over it, creating the cocoon-effect she’d found so frightening. After close examination, she located its seam and cautiously peeled it back. Then, determined to take the hammock by surprise, she quickly swung her legs over its edge and stumbled to her feet.
With a sigh of relief Chelsea flexed her back and stretched gingerly, then bent forward and braced her hands on her knees. She felt weak and distinctly logy—an aftermath of the xtabentun? No, she’d had too little. Her hangover, she decided, was simply from the excitement and exertion and tension of the day before.
Straightening, she slowly looked around. The hut was empty, though a glance toward the front door revealed several children playing beyond, in the clearing at the pueblito’s hub.
It was then that she recalled her imminent debut.
Looking frantically around the back room, she spotted the spare huipiles folded on the table. Grabbing one, she made a beeline for the shower. By the time she returned to the hut, she felt vaguely presentable.
“You’re up,” Sam said, grinning from his post by the door to the front room. He wore the garb of the Maya—loose pants, untucked shirt and sandals—and looked magnificently rugged. In Chelsea’s slightly biased view, he also looked disgustingly awake. “Sleep well?”
“Aside from waking up in an absolute panic at being caught in a grotesque spider’s web, yes.” She tried to sound annoyed, but didn’t quite make it. She was too self-conscious, too aware of Sam.
“You found your way out.”
“Eventually … . I fell asleep on you last night?” she asked more timidly.
“Sure did. It was nice.”
“I … don’t remember much.”
“You closed your eyes and were out like a light. Feeling better today?”
“Still tired, and a little sore, I guess, but I’m okay. I, uh,” she hesitated, “I helped myself to your stuff. You know, soap and shampoo and comb. I hope you don’t mind.”
His eyes were sparkling and he hadn’t stopped grinning. Chelsea wondered whether he’d had something intoxicating for breakfast. “Of course not. Feel free to use anything you find … . Are you hungry?”
“I’m not a breakfast eater. What time is it, anyway?”
“Eight-thirty.”
She looked amazed. “I thought for sure I’d slept till at least ten or eleven! How long have you been up?”
“Since dawn. I was out with the men checking on some of the corn fields. Tonia should be ready for us by now, though. All set?”
Chelsea looked down and rocked back on her heels. With her sandals—which she’d wiped as clean as possible, given the dirt they’d collected the day before—in place on her feet, her underwear fresh beneath the clean huipile, and her hair as neat as it could be, given the sultriness of the air, she felt as ready as she’d ever be.
“Guess so,” she sighed.
He came forward and draped an arm around her shoulders. “You look terrific, Chels. You’ll knock ‘em dead.” He ushered her gently toward the front door. “Just relax and remember that these are some of the most friendly and unpretentious people on earth. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” she began, grateful that Sam seemed to understand. “I meet new people all the time, and they’re usually pretty demanding.” A case in point was Sam’s mother, yet Chelsea hadn’t been half as nervous when she’d entered the Wellesley Hills estate and confronted that formidable woman as she felt now. She guessed it had something to do with the culture warp here, and perhaps the fact that these people meant so much to Sam.
“Will you interpret for me?” she asked, raising beseechful eyes to his. “I don’t know much more than muchas gracias, por favor and habla usted ingles.”
“I’ll be right beside you. Relax. It’ll be fun.”
“I wish I had my blow dryer,” she mumbled as they emerged from the hut into the morning sun.
“You don’t need it,” he stated, gently but
firmly, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Chin up. You’ll do fine.”
To Chelsea’s surprise, she did. As it happened, the villagers were nearly as shy with her as she was with them. They seemed slightly in awe of her, and she wondered how much of that was because she was with Sam. She didn’t object, though in other circumstances she would have readily exerted her independence. She sensed this to be a different society, one in which women’s liberation was unknown, so she gratefully let Sam lead the way.
Breakfast, which was taken on benches not far from Tonia’s stone fireplace, consisted of tortillas and fruit. “Tortillas are a staple,” Sam explained, then corrected himself, speaking softly while those around them continued to eat. “Actually, corn is the staple, but more often than not it’s soaked and softened and grilled into tortillas.”
“I read about the ancient Maya doing that.”
“It’s still the same … . The oranges come from the trees over there.” He tossed his head toward the far end of the pueblito. “Other mornings there are bananas or pineapples or papayas.”
“And tortillas.”
“Always tortillas.”
They shared a smile, then set to eating. But Chelsea couldn’t keep from looking around at the gathered group. “They are beautiful, Sam,” she murmured. “The children especially. Such burnished skin. And large eyes—they’ve all got such large, gorgeous eyes.” She smiled at one little boy and he promptly smiled back.
“Better be careful of that,” Sam warned teasingly. “He’ll follow you around for the rest of the day.”
“I don’t mind. He’s precious.”
“You like kids?”
“I love them. They’re so fresh and innocent. It’s kind of scary to think what awful things can happen to them as they get older.”
“You mean physically?”
“More … emotionally. The world is big and dangerous and confusing, and there are so many choices to make—” She caught herself. “But I suppose it’s different here. Maybe these people are better off.” She caught the eye of a young girl who’d been staring at her. Shy, the girl looked away, but not before she too had smiled. “She’s got a gold lining on her front tooth. Several of the others have the same. Didn’t I read something about that?”
“Probably. It’s a form of decoration, very prestigious. Both sexes do it; they’ve been doing it for centuries. Gold, silver … I’m told the ancients even used jade.”
“I think I’d die. I hate the dentist.”
“Dental decoration is the least of it. Though it’s not done as much now, it used to be that crossed eyes were considered a mark of great beauty. Mothers used to hang jewels between the eyes of their daughters in hopes they’d become cross-eyed.” He chuckled. “When I was a little kid I had to wear a patch over one eye to strengthen the other so it wouldn’t cross. Boy, did I hate that.”
Chelsea tipped her head and studied him, a dangerous thing to do. He looked so thoroughly male that for a minute she nearly forgot the purpose of her study. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I think you’d look rakish, like a pirate, if you wore one now.”
“Pirates turn you on?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met one.”
“They say there used to be scores of them over in Isla Mujeres. You haven’t gone there, have you?” Isla Mujeres was a short ferry ride from Cancun.
“I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Not even to the ruins?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’ll have to take you. They’re fascinating. The ancient Maya were positively brilliant. Astrologers, mathematicians, engineers. Wait till you see.”
She knew she’d look forward to it. She knew she’d look forward to anything she’d do with Sam. “Do the people today still worship the ancient gods?”
“Some do, but the majority were converted to Christianity years ago. It’s really a shame, but I probably know more about the ancient Maya and their accomplishments than the average present-day Maya does. When the ancient civilization died, its records and books were destroyed along with it. Glyphs have been found in many of the ruins, but we haven’t been able to fully translate them.”
Chelsea would have asked more, but at that moment their breakfast companions were starting to rise.
“Come,” Sam said, “I want to introduce you to Reni. She lives across the way and speaks a little English. When she heard you were here, she all but begged me to let her show you around.”
Chelsea had hoped Sam would do that. “Where will you be?” she asked, feeling a resurgence of that strange insecurity.
“I’ll be working around and about. Not far. A little later I’ll stop by Xcan to see if your car’s been returned, and make sure the hotel’s checked you out.”
“Maybe I should go with you,” she offered hopefully.
He shook his head, but his upper lip—and in turn his mustache—was toying with a smile. “The women will expect you to be most curious to see what they do, so let’s indulge them. Don’t worry. I can take care of things on my end, and you’ll be fine.”
“I know.” But her tone wasn’t overly confident. Given her choice, she would have opted to go with Sam. Either that or go right back to sleep. She couldn’t seem to shake her muzziness, and her limbs didn’t feel completely coordinated.
“Just think of the stuff you’ll be able to pick up for your article,” he reminded her, and she forced a smile.
“You’re right. I get so caught up in things, that I seem to keep forgetting that.” Better she should say it than he, and she knew it to be true. If she’d been a legitimate writer, she’d have been scribbling notes, asking nonstop questions, eagerly anticipating any and every exposure to the day-to-day living of the Maya. She wondered if Sam suspected she was less than dedicated to her work. He should only know …
“Reni will remind you,” Sam quipped. He’d taken her hand and was leading her toward the spot where Tonia and two of the other women stood talking.
Chelsea listened as he conversed in Mayan with them for a minute. She could see that whatever he’d said pleased them, and she added her own grateful thanks for breakfast, which Sam translated easily. Then they left Aldana’s hut and made their way across the clearing.
Reni was waiting, at least Chelsea assumed the young girl standing patiently in the shade of the hut to be she. She was definitely a girl, with smooth skin and long black hair, and as the other women did, she wore a brightly decorated huipile.
Her eyes glowed and she broke into an open smile when they neared. Chelsea guessed her to be in her late teens.
“Reni, I’d like you to meet Chelsea. Chelsea, Reni.”
Chelsea smiled back at the girl, whose eyes hadn’t left her for a minute. This surprised her, since Sam had to be far more exciting, indeed drool material. “I’m pleased to meet you, Reni,” she said, then shot a hesitant glance at Sam.
“It’s okay. She wants you to speak English. She’s been learning as much from me as she can, but she’s probably thrilled to have a second teacher. Go on, Reni,” he said very gently. “You know what to say.”
“I’m … pleased to meet you too … Chelsea,” the young girl responded. There was a shyness to her voice, but a quiet dignity as well, a trait Chelsea was coming to associate with the Maya. “I’m very glad … you’re here.” She rolled her ‘r’s slightly more than necessary, but otherwise, Chelsea realized, her accent was excellent. “If you come with me,” Reni went on, “I will show you … ar … around.”
“I’d like that,” Chelsea said with a smile.
“Then I’ll leave you two,” Sam injected. “Reni, thanks. Chels, I’ll catch you later.”
Chelsea nodded and watched him leave. He walked in an unhurried fashion, looking almost as though he was going off to spend the day doing nothing. She tried to conjure an image of him in a three-piece suit, striding quickly down the corridor toward his office, but the image was faulty at best and she soon abandoned it. Aside from that one relapse
last night, the Sam she knew seemed totally alien to that other life. For the time being, she was content to leave things that way—particularly when, in a thoroughly endearing gesture, he returned to her moments later with the hat that had been appropriated for her use and a palmful of lotion that he very gently spread on her nose, arms and legs. Chelsea protested that she could do it herself, but Sam seemed to take such enjoyment in doing it—and Reni in laughing as he worked—that she gave in. It was all she could do, though, to hold still under his ministration, which left her warm and tingling all over. When he departed with a devilish grin and a wink, she decided she’d take this Sam over any other man.
Reni proved to be a pleasant guide and companion. Once her initial shyness wore off, she was enthusiastic and eager to please, acting as though it was a high honor to be allowed to serve as Chelsea’s guide.
She and Chelsea quickly found a comfortable pace of communication, asking for and repeating words without hesitation as they walked leisurely through the pueblito. Since Chelsea was aiding Reni with her English, she felt it only fair that she herself should learn Mayan. If she was to be here for a time, she wanted to be able to communicate on some simple level with the natives.
Theoretically it should have been a leisurely day for Chelsea. Though one activity seemed to flow into the next, each was undertaken slowly, without hurry. No one rushed. Time seemed a limitless commodity. Aside from the ongoing endeavor of cooking, if a particular activity wasn’t finished one day, it would be the next, or the next, or the next.
Chelsea wasn’t one to sit still and watch, or perhaps her system simply refused to slow down. She chipped in with grinding the leaves of the henequen plant, which Sam and the other men had harvested, and helped spread the results to dry into the fiber from which rope would be made. She took her turn at weaving. She even tried her hand at embroidering. She walked with the women to where racks of corn had been left to dry. Filling a large woven bag with ears, she hoisted it onto her back and, bracing the bag’s wide strap on her forehead as the other women did, carted the corn back to the huts. Once there, she followed the others’ lead and scraped the kernels off, setting them to soften in a pot of water and lime.
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