by Irene Brand
Laurel was unprepared for the amount of nudity she saw. Both men and women were bare-chested. The women wore thigh-length skirts, and the men brief loincloths.
Micah couldn’t speak the language, but when one of the guides inquired for Kenneth Morrow, they learned that he was out hunting, but was expected back today. Micah and Laurel returned to the launch and ate some of the food provided for them by the cook at the petroleum camp.
Soon a crowd of naked children sat on the bank watching them. The children looked well-fed, but their scrutiny disturbed Laurel. “Do you suppose they’re hungry? Maybe we should share our food.”
“Their diet agrees with them more than our food would. I won’t risk giving the children something that might make them sick.”
“But what could they eat? I don’t see any gardens.”
“They cultivate corn and beans, but they also live off the forest food—iguana eggs, smoked iguana meat, wild nuts, berries and—” he added with a fiendish grin “—juicy grubs and large ants eaten alive.”
Laurel’s stomach knotted. “Micah! Have you ever eaten those things?”
“Will it be held against me if I have?”
She shook her head.
“Our cooks on the expedition prepared a lot of the jungle foods, and they’re tasty, but I did pass on the grubs and live ants.”
After they’d finished eating, Micah left the company employees to guard the boat so he and Laurel could walk around. They came to a small pond that was covered with a type of water lettuce shaded by the skeleton of a dead tree. A large group of egrets had settled on its big branches, and the noise was horrendous. They walked almost in semidarkness because the thick foliage obscured the rays of the sun, causing it to appear that night was approaching. Laurel sensed that Micah was uneasy because he kept glancing at his watch.
When they came to a thick wall of jungle growth, they turned and walked slowly back toward the river. Micah wanted to be on hand when Morrow came. If he didn’t show up soon, they’d have to spend the night in the village. For Laurel’s convenience, he would have preferred to return to the petroleum camp before nightfall.
They’d rested on the launch for about an hour, when some of the children started running into the forest, shouting. One of their guides said in broken English, “Señor Morrow and warriors return.”
Micah and Laurel left the boat and walked to the center of the village.
Two warriors led the procession carrying a small deer slung between two poles, and behind them two other men also carried a deer. Several men followed them, and the village inhabitants soon intermingled with the returning hunters. A brawny white man, wearing only a loincloth, stopped in his tracks when he saw Micah and Laurel. His face was covered with a thick growth of black whiskers. More slowly, he approached them.
“Do you recognize him?” Micah said quietly to Laurel.
“I don’t know. It’s been twenty years. Ryan Bledsoe didn’t have facial hair when I knew him.”
“You took me by surprise, Mr. Davidson,” Morrow said in Spanish. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”
Obviously, Morrow was the man he’d known on the expedition, but whether he was Jason’s friend was yet to be determined. Answering in English so Laurel would understand, Micah said, “Then you are the man who was on our expedition, who called himself Tex.”
Morrow threw down the lance he was carrying, and a woman rushed to take the pack from his shoulder. He glanced at the company barge and lifted his hand toward the two guides.
“I’ve had many names,” he said in English, and his eyes shifted to Laurel. “Why have you come?”
“I apologize for forcing our company on you,” Micah said, “and please don’t hold it against your staff for bringing us here. It’s a matter of great importance, and after we’d come to South America to see you, I didn’t want to go home without contacting you. We understood that you weren’t expected back in Caracas for a few months, so I contacted Simon Sebastian for help. If you can tell us what we need to find out, or if you’re not the man we’re looking for, we’ll leave right away.”
Morrow looked at Laurel appraisingly.
“This is my friend, Laurel Cooper. She thinks you can give her some information about her husband.”
Morrow’s astonishment was apparent, but soon recognition dawned and a thoughtful smile curved his mouth. “It’s been a few years, Mrs. Cooper, and you’ve weathered those years better than I have.” He gazed at the darkening sky. “But you can’t leave tonight.”
Worried, Micah said, “I know that now. We’ve been waiting several hours for you to return.”
“The natives will be feasting tonight and it will be an all-night affair, but I’ll guarantee your safety. It may be a little noisy, Mrs. Cooper, but you’ll be safe enough. If you’ll give me a short time to bathe and shave, I’ll be at your service the rest of the evening.”
Laurel clutched Micah’s hand as they watched Morrow enter a large hut. One of the native women followed him. “I’m afraid, Micah.”
“No need to be. Morrow will keep the natives away from us.”
“Oh, as long as I’m with you, I’m not afraid of the people. I fear what he’ll tell us. I’ve lived with mystery for twenty years, and now that I’m going to learn about Jason, I’m terrified.”
“I understand. But whatever we learn, we’ll deal with it together.” His eyes brimmed with tenderness and compassion, and when he squeezed her hand, her fears lessened.
Laurel would never forget that evening.
While the natives butchered the deer and hung the carcasses on a tripod over a smoldering fire, she and Micah sat on the ground near the river with Kenneth Morrow, now smoothly shaved and dressed in Western garments. She’d seen Ryan Bledsoe only a few times when he came to Oaklawn. Without the picture, she wouldn’t have been sure who he was, but he was definitely the man who’d stood beside Jason in the sailboat.
Micah explained about the article he’d written, saying that Laurel had seen his picture and believed he was the person who’d supposedly died with Jason Cooper in the boating accident. If he was alive, perhaps her husband might be, too. They’d come to South America to learn what they could.
“I have a daughter,” Laurel explained, “who would like to know what happened to her father. Is Jason alive and living here in South America, too?”
Morrow eyes registered amazement. “I survived the accident, but Jason didn’t. Weren’t you notified that his body was recovered?”
Micah’s blue eyes met her green ones in a compelling, magnetic glance.
Laurel shook her head. “We were notified that the wreckage of your boat washed ashore in the Antilles. One of Jason’s cousins tried to find out more information, but we couldn’t learn anything.”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Cooper, that you’ve had to live in doubt all of these years. Jason and I were able to get into a lifeboat when the ship wrecked, and we washed ashore in a small village near San Juan, east of Caracas. Jason was dead when we were rescued, and I had received a severe head injury.”
He pulled back his heavy hair and revealed a jagged scar across his forehead. “I lost my memory, and it was two years before most of my past came back to me. By that time, I’d taken the name of Kenneth Morrow. The people who’d rescued me told me where Jason was buried. I would have contacted you, but had no idea you didn’t know what had happened.”
“Do you know where his grave is?”
“Yes. I had a marker placed a few years ago. I’ll go back to Caracas with you and show you where the grave is.”
“And you’ve lived in South America since then? Didn’t you want to return home?” Laurel asked.
“Not to live. I have made a few business trips to the States. I had nothing to return for except a lot of money. I was in my early twenties when I inherited some money from my grandfather. I invested that money in the Texas oil fields and made a fortune. People only wanted to be around me because of my money. I invested my
money, left Texas and traveled to get away from riches. Jason and I got along fine, because he didn’t ask anything about my finances. He was the only real friend I had.”
Bitterly, Laurel thought that Jason should have been with his family instead of traveling around the country, but she said nothing, and Kenneth Morrow continued.
“I like Latin American ways, and I liked the new name I’d taken when I couldn’t remember my own. I went to work in the oil fields, and gradually my memory returned. In the States, I’m still Ryan Bledsoe. I invested some of my money in this country, and would you believe I struck it rich again? Money means nothing to me, yet everything I touch turns a profit. I prefer to work with my hands rather than to make business decisions. I get so sick of affluence that two or three times a year, I leave it all behind and live in the jungle where money can’t buy anything.”
“I don’t want to disturb your time off,” Laurel said. “If you can tell us where the grave is, we can probably find it.”
“I want to go with you, Mrs. Cooper. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a comfortable place to sleep tonight. You’ll be perfectly safe if you sleep in my hut.”
Laurel didn’t want to sleep out of Micah’s sight, but she looked to him for the decision.
Discerning her wishes, Micah said, “Your employees provided two sleeping bags for us. Laurel can sleep on the launch, and I’ll sleep on the bank beside the boat.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Kenneth Morrow said. “We’ll leave at daybreak.”
“Good night, and thank you,” Laurel said, giving him her hand.
“Anything I can do to help you. I’ve always felt guilty that I persuaded Jason to leave his wife and child to accompany me on that trip. I’ve wondered occasionally what had happened to you.”
“I’m still living at Oaklawn. Jason’s parents left the property to me. My daughter was married there two weeks ago.”
“I’m glad life turned out well for you,” he said, then abruptly turned on his heel and went toward the group huddled around the fire, waiting for the meat to cook.
Micah and Laurel gazed after him. “An odd way for a millionaire to live,” Micah said.
“I never knew why he and Jason got along so well, but I understand it better now. Jason was a loner, too. Thanks for bringing me on this trip, Micah. Kenneth Morrow has lifted a burden off my back that’s been lying there for years.”
Micah moved a few items, spread Laurel’s sleeping bag on the floor of the launch, and tucked her into it. He kissed her good-night, and she clung to him.
“Are you scared?” The dim light from the fires revealed the concern in his eyes.
Laurel remembered the water snakes and the many large insects she’d observed during the boat trip. In spite of the trouble she’d had at home, she longed for her bed at Oaklawn. But not wanting to add to Micah’s concern, she smiled brightly.
“Not as long as you’re close by.”
“I’ll spread my bed beside the boat. I’m easy to rouse. You’ll be all right.”
The natives feasted throughout the night, and when the sound of drums rolled through the clearing and the reveling increased, Micah knew they were drinking their fermented brew. He rolled up his sleeping bag and stepped quietly into the launch. Laurel sat up quickly.
“It’s Micah,” he said.
“What’s going on?” she said. “All that shouting woke me.”
“They’re drinking some homebrew liquor. I’m going to sit in the launch. I can’t sleep anyway. Don’t be afraid.”
“He said I’d be all right.”
“And I’m sure you will,” Micah said. He placed his sleeping bag in the bottom of the boat and sat on it, stretching his legs beside Laurel. If anyone tried to come into the boat, they’d stumble over his legs, and that would rouse him if he should fall asleep. He probably shouldn’t have brought Laurel into the jungle, but her next words put that thought to rest.
Placing her hand on his ankle, she said, “Micah, if I had a choice of any place I’d rather be tonight, you know where it would be?”
“Where?”
“Right here with you,” she said softly. “The gentle movement of the boat as it swayed with the river’s flow rocked me to sleep. I did my mourning for Jason years ago, so I’m happy now that we know what really happened to him. It’s dark here in the jungle, but it’s daybreak for you and me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Laurel had never had any desire for riches. But the next twelve hours, when Kenneth Morrow maneuvered them quickly and efficiently from the jungle to Caracas, proved that an abundance of money could be advantageous.
When Kenneth came to the dock soon after daylight, Laurel and Micah were ready to go. They’d walked back and forth along the riverbank for about fifteen minutes to ease their cramped muscles.
Kenneth was dressed in a pair of trousers and a shirt, and he was accompanied by three natives. One of them jumped into the other motor launch and started the engine, but when they started downriver, Kenneth handled the boat.
The return trip to the oil company’s site seemed shorter than the trip upriver. Sam greeted them, and Kenneth told him to prepare the helicopter for immediate departure. At the landing field in Caracas, a limousine met them and whisked them to their hotels. Kenneth Morrow told them he’d come for them again in two hours, and Laurel was glad for that time to take a bath and put on clean clothing.
As they waited in the hotel lobby for his return, Micah bought a bouquet of fresh flowers and gave them to Laurel.
“For Debbie,” he said, and Laurel nodded her thanks.
Three hours later, she stood in the cemetery in a village churchyard near the town of San Juan. When they’d arrived at the cemetery, Micah had stayed near the gate while the other man took Laurel to the grave site. Under the circumstances, he thought Laurel would prefer to be alone to say this last goodbye to her husband.
Laurel clutched the flowers, and tears welled in her eyes as she read the tombstone inscription, Jason Cooper. And beneath his name, a quotation by Aristotle. “Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods.”
“I didn’t remember his birth date,” Kenneth Morrow apologized. “There are some things about the past I’ve never recalled.”
Laurel nodded. “You’ve done well. Without you, I’d never have found his grave.”
Twenty years! All those years when she’d had to be both mother and father to Debbie, Jason had been lying in this lonely grave, so far from home. Although Jason had killed all the love she’d ever had for him, pity welled up in her heart for his parents who’d died mourning their only son, and for Debbie who’d missed so much by not having a father.
Swallowing hard and biting back her tears, Laurel knelt and laid the flowers beside the marker. But overcome by the finality of this moment, and wishing that Debbie could be with her, she yielded to compulsive sobs and tears that slowly found their way down her cheeks.
Unable to stay aloof from her sorrow any longer, within a few seconds Micah was on his knees beside her, his right arm wrapped around her midriff. She turned and buried her face against his shoulder, comforted by Micah’s caring hands smoothing her hair. She pulled away, and Micah helped her stand. He wiped her tears with his handkerchief as Laurel looked at the surroundings.
The cemetery was well cared for, and Laurel was thankful that Kenneth Morrow had preserved Jason’s memory. Perhaps someday Debbie could visit her father’s grave. She supposed she could have the remains exhumed and taken to the United States for reburial, but that would be more expensive than she could afford. And she didn’t dare mention it, or Micah might think she was hinting.
“You’re convinced that these are Jason’s remains?” Laurel asked Kenneth Morrow.
“Only to the extent that the people who rescued me said that the body of the man buried here was on the lifeboat with me. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
Micah had picked up his camera at the hotel and brought i
t with them. “Do you want a picture of the grave?” he asked.
“Yes, for Debbie. And a picture of the church in the background. Thanks again for buying the flowers.”
“Mrs. Cooper,” Kenneth Morrow said. “If you’ll permit me to do this, I’ll arrange to have Jason’s remains exhumed and sent to the United States.”
“Oh, it’s kind of you to offer, but I won’t impose on you. This is a quiet place to be buried. It’s all right.”
“Really, I insist. I’ve told you that I have more money than I know what to do with. I have citizenship in Venezuela as well as in the United States. It won’t be as difficult for me to handle this matter as it would be for you. And although I don’t have any doubt of it, I’ll order DNA testing, so you’ll know for sure that this is Jason’s body.”
“But, it’s—”
“I want to do this. In the year we traveled together, Jason and I became good friends. I want to do it for him, as well as for you and your daughter, but I have to have your permission.”
“Very well. I accept your offer. Jason’s parents mourned to the end of their days that their son wasn’t buried in the family cemetery. Debbie will be pleased to have her father buried at Oaklawn.”
“When we return to Caracas, I’ll put my lawyers to work on this. When do you plan to leave?” he asked Micah.
“We won’t leave until you have these arrangements made.”
“I can have any necessary papers ready for you to sign tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll leave the following day.”
When the limousine stopped in front of their hotel, both Laurel and Micah expressed their thanks to Kenneth Morrow for the help he’d given them.