"What's happened to her? Where is she?"
"Delores said she was delayed and would explain later. I think we should go on."
Anxiously, Lennea looked from Joseph to the man at the Aeromexico desk. The language barrier made her feel frustrated and helpless. If Delores really had called, why hadn't she asked to speak to her? What if someone was impersonating Delores? Joseph could even be telling her a message from Delores had arrived when no such message existed.
"Are you sure she's all right?"
"If she hadn't been OK, she would have left a different kind of message, wouldn't she? The next flight is out in twenty minutes. We'd better hurry."
Lennea became more apprehensive as they boarded the plane. What would she do if Delores failed to arrive in Merida, failed to contact her again? She could not help feeling worried and responsible.
Joseph insisted that she take the seat by the window, so she quietly watched the airport lights grow smaller and smaller as they began their ascent. Once the plane had leveled off, Joseph spoke, "The Yuctan is very intriguing."
Lennea answered without interest, sorry that he had interrupted her thoughts. "I'm hoping the experience will help with the classes I will teach in the fall."
Joseph stretched a long leg forward. "You must approach teaching from a purely intellectual level."
Lennea felt challenged by his critical tone of voice. "How else should I approach it?"
"Lennea Andrews! You are flying to a primitive cultural center—a place of wondrous, unbelievable accomplishments." His voice and expression revealed a passionate earnestness. "A place where men built great pyramids from out of the jungle without help of beast, wheel, or metal. The least you could do is sound excited."
When she gave no response, he went on, "Imagine you are traveling to the Yucatan for the sole purpose of acquiring a feeling—a compassion for the Maya people. If you keep this idea in mind, then the experience will be invaluable to you and to your teaching."
Lennea smiled. "You sound more like a teacher than I do."
"I could never quite settle down to teaching." Laugh lines appeared on either side of his mouth as he added. "Mother's the widow of a university professor. Everyone tells her: my son's just got a Ph.D., my son's been promoted to vice president, my son's got three children. Poor woman, she has absolutely nothing to talk about."
"What exactly is your job?"
"Life-long student, which explains my work at the Museum. Right now I'm putting together a Mayan art exhibit, which I hope to show internationally."
As Joseph continued his enthusiastic discourse, Lennea questioned what Delores would see in such a man. Delores was not the idealist; left on her own, she read very little besides fashion magazines and menus. She preferred excitement to theories. Delores probably hadn't seen beyond Joseph's handsome face.
She studied the strong features, the wide, sensual lips and slightly prominent nose, the crisp, black hair. She admired the way his eyes flashed as he continued to talk.
"I love the Spanish people, but I hate what they did to the Indians, the way they crushed their civilization. I fancy that my work is going to help undo the harm—restore their cultural rights." He leaned forward, eyes glowing. "You see, I'm really Don Quixote."
She laughed, wondering how she could have ever been afraid of him. "And you expect me to be Donna Quixote."
His smile lingered, "Don't you want to be?" He gestured to the window, so she looked out at the surrounding darkness. She could see sprinkles of lights and discerned the faint impression of a shore line.
"This, Lennea, is the unfolding of a new experience! Don't you feel it somewhere in the pit of your stomach? Once this plane lands, you will be in a place you have never set eyes on before. Why, anything could happen!"
Lennea pictured herself, suspended in darkness beside this handsome stranger, flying off to a strange, exotic land. What would Val think if she could see her now? Val, and the others back home. Already Joseph had turned the train of her thoughts. A slight tingling was coursing through her veins. She was beginning to think ADVENTURE.
* * * * *
Chapter Two
The reality of adventure, Lennea decided later, was more hassle than excitement. Together in the pre-dawn hours, she and Joseph struggled with the luggage, then hurried on tired legs to hail one of the taxis that circled the airport.
Lennea looked on with admiration as Joseph negotiated with the short, squat taxi driver in an unusual dialect that must be Mayan. As she waited, Lennea glanced curiously past the airport lights into the veil of darkness beyond. Though she could not see the jungle, she could feel its encroaching presence. A sharp, earthy smell hung as heavy as the moisture in the warm night air.
"He'll take us to Hotel Guerrero," Joseph explained.
"Is that where Delores will meet us?" He had turned from Lennea slightly, leaving her to study his rough-hewn profile, the strong cheekbones and firm mouth.
"Delores didn't say where or when." Lennea tried to look into his eyes, but could see only the dark outline of brows and lashes. He took her arm to help her into the waiting taxi. "Delores will show up there sooner or later," he said. "She always does."Joseph seemed to know Delores very well. What was their relationship? Friends? Lovers?
A blur of buildings, pale walls glowing in the moonlight, slipped past them. "The White City," Joseph commented. Faded churches, marble monuments, walls the color of eggshell—so much white that the entire city seemed sprinkled with stardust. Lennea could tell by his dark, expressive eyes that Merida was special to him.
"Hotel Guerrero is not far."
Narrow passages walled on each side by ancient buildings met Lennea's curious gaze. Even at this early hour, lights and music floated from obscure side streets. A young couple snuggled together as they toured the sights from the seat of a horse-drawn carriage.
How romantic, Lennea thought, suddenly imagining herself in a lover's embrace, riding aimlessly through the warm night. Joseph shifted position. In the cramped seat of the taxi, knees and shoulders inches away from touching, Lennea could not help but feel a sense of his presence.
As if reading her thoughts, Joseph said, "It's a shame to get your first impression of Merida through a taxi window. We should be riding in that carriage. Yes, that's the way to see the city best!" His gaze rested momentarily upon Lennea's face. "Some day soon I'll take you for a carriage ride."
"I—I'm going to be very busy," she replied evasively, turning her face again to the window. The taxi stopped suddenly at the end of one of the narrow, winding streets. "Hotel Guerrero," Joseph said.
The outside looked ancient, even a little scary, like an archaic castle. Joseph tipped their driver, and instructed an eager porter to see to their luggage.
Lennea had never seen anything quite like the spacious lobby they entered. The brightly-colored tile gave her an immediate impression of polished luxury. Lush plants hung from pots which bore a distinct Mayan design, the profile of a priest in headdress. The open dining area to the left as well as the balcony ahead of them was lined with tables, many secluded behind great statues and magnificent vases, some almost as tall as Joseph.
An attractive, sharp-featured man with a trim, black mustache left the desk where he had been talking to two of the porters.
"You're up early, Sid. " Joseph greeted him.
Or had he been up late, Lennea thought, noticing his exquisite dark suit, the expensive jewelry. Appreciative, brown eyes darted from Joseph to her, then back to Joseph as he extended his hand with warmth and affection.
"Joseph! Where the devil have you been?"
"This is Sid Guerrero, manager and owner of the Guerrero chain of hotels," Joseph explained. "Sid, Lennea."
"Your wife! Sid exclaimed with enthusiasm. Then, with an approving glance at Lennea, he added, "I see why you have kept her so well-hidden!
"We're not married," Joseph replied. This information drew a wink from Sid. "It's not the policy of this establishment to pr
y."
"We missed our flight in Mexico City," Lennea explained tiredly. Now that there was a lull in activity, she felt her legs could barely support her.
"So we need two rooms and a chance to rest before we try that new restaurant of yours," Joseph added.
"What? No dancing?" Buggy rides? Tour of city?" Sid demanded, now with an exaggerated Mexican accent.
The accent caused Joseph to laugh. "Not at the moment. Can't you see my companion is about to fall asleep?"
Lennea, who knew that her own eyes must be red-rimmed, marveled that Joseph still seemed wide-eyed and alert. "Very well, then. For you, Joseph," Sid said, turning away to the desk. "I have—nothing special. Down this hallway to 155. For Lennea—I'll do much better!"
"Not your own room," Joseph warned. Even though he smiled, Lennea read into Joseph's tone some slight edge. Although she saw that Sid was much older, at least in his mid-forties, she wondered if the two were not often in competition over women.
"Joseph forgets that I am a respectable man," Sid bowed low. "A gentleman who is constantly at your service."
"How many young girls must buy that line," Joseph remarked. "Your friend is getting offensive," Sid countered. "If he's had no sleep tonight, I must forgive him. If he is still offensive in the morning, I will be forced to evict him."
"He understands." Despite her exhaustion, Lennea tried to catch the mood of their banter.
As Sid stepped away to summon a porter, Joseph said, "I'll meet you here at the desk for lunch at twelve o'clock. Surely by then we'll have heard from Delores." The porter struggled with Lennea and Delores' heavy luggage. In the dim light of the elevator, his features looked exactly like the Mayan heads she had seen painted on the hanging flower pots in the lobby, exactly like the man who had been following her at the airport. She had not thought of him for hours and now his face, so intensely watchful, once again frightened her.
Weariness increased. She could not fully appreciate the true luxury of the room Sid had selected for her. She only noted that the interior was plush and green, like a tropical forest. Lennea felt lonely and a little frightened. She thought about the strange phone call at the airport. Why hadn't Delores insisted on talking to her directly? She thought about contacting Wesley again.
But Delores was safe or she would not have called at all. And Joseph was certain that she would show up here at the Hotel Guerrero by morning. He seemed to know her habits much better than Lennea did. The most sensible thing to do was wait.
Lennea had just slipped out of her dress and hung it in the closet when a light knock sounded upon the door. Hastily digging the yellow robe from her suitcase, she called, "Just a minute."
She approached the door. Her hand delayed, rested uncertainly upon the doorknob. It must be Delores. "Who's there?" "Joseph."
She opened the door a crack. "It can't be morning yet."
Joseph smiled, teeth white against olive skin in the semi-darkness. "Just wanted to make sure everything is OK. Did you get your luggage?" As he spoke, his gaze shifted from her opened suitcase upon the bed, to Delores' maroon one lying near the closet door. As she stepped back, he walked into the room. She hadn't expected him to enter. Now that he had, she felt slightly uncomfortable. For a moment he seemed to take in the details of the room. His eyes drifted to the window, back to Delores' suitcase, then settled upon the dresser where a container of sparkling water waited by two crystal glasses. "Oh, I wanted to remind you to drink only the bottled water."
"Thank you." she replied as a dismissal. He made no move to leave. She got the eerie sensation that he was stalling, searching for an excuse to prolong his stay. What did he want?
She watched as he picked up the crystal, handing her one long-stemmed glass. "Shall we have a toast? To adventure!" Carefully, he poured the water, as if it were the most precious of wine.
Obviously, he was accustomed to such romantic behavior. It increased her uneasiness. She stepped away from him. Lennea was conscious of his gaze, neither bold nor intruding, upon her. She felt a little flutter in her heart as he joined her at the window. He braced his arm against the sill and looked out at the night. Stealing a glance at him, she noticed that a slight breeze had rumpled his hair. She caught the clean scent of his aftershave, exotic, like musk, in the warm air.
"What a splendid view. Like something out of the Arabian Nights," he said.
She couldn't help but respond to his words, to the sound of his voice. Her hands tightened around the stem of the glass. She was aware that his eyes were now upon her, and not on the panoramic night view. She forced herself to study the breathtaking scene. "So old. Like Palestine must look. I never thought Merida would be like this. When I think of Mexico, I think of all those border towns." She gave a nervous laugh. "Dust and heat, guitars and burros—"
"It's the mixture of Spanish and Maya that makes Merida so unique." She looked down at the clean, narrow streets, then toward the distant domes. "You can see several landmarks," he said. "See that tall spire in the distance? That old cathedral was built on top of one of the ancient Mayan structures. In fact, Merida in Spanish means "over ruins". The whole town was built over the ancient city of Tho."
Now, he indicated a tall building nearby with an uneven decorative top which made jagged shadows against the still-dark sky. "Universidad de Yucatan," he said, "founded in 1618." She sensed the smooth old stucco of the building, probably faded, but white and glowing in the darkness.
"That's where I'll be teaching," she said in awe, "with Dr. Hern." Hern's name caused a quick narrowing of Joseph's eyes, a slight tensing of his jaw muscles. He stared out of the window as he said, "It will soon be daylight."
Joseph turned and took the crystal glass from her, pressing his hand slightly into hers. She watched him place the glasses carefully back down upon the nightstand. "Try to get some rest," he said.
She was surprised by his abrupt departing, and a little sorry. "You didn't finish your drink."
He walked back to the glass, lifted it and drank again. "Sweeter than wine!" he said as he replaced the empty glass. Suddenly, he caught her shoulders and drew her to him. His lips touched her own ever so briefly, ever so gently. Then he was gone.
Lennea tried not to think of his lips, but again and again the feel of them intruded into her thoughts. A whisper of a kiss—it couldn't be a betrayal of her love for Wesley. She kept remembering Joseph's eyes upon her, so hot and dark, his mouth so warm and teasing. She tossed and turned and could not relax.
When sleep finally came, it was restless, disturbed by real or imagined voices, stealthy footsteps in the hallway outside, the sounds of an unfamiliar place. She sat up startled several times. She didn't like being alone at this hotel.
When morning came, Lennea remembered that Delores and she were to have contacted a couple of Delores' friends who owned a hacienda near the excavation site. This couple, Frank and Goldie, Delores had called them, were to drive Delores and Lennea out to their hacienda that afternoon, where they would be boarding for the rest of the summer. Lennea tried to think of their last names. LaVilla? LaTilla? After breakfast, if Delores did not show up, she would give them a call.
Delores had been carrying only a small purse and no flight bag. If she had an address book, it was probably inside her suitcase. Lennea set Delores' maroon case before her on the bed. It wasn't locked. Lennea began quickly unpacking the brilliant fabrics which made up Delores' wardrobe. No stationary, no address book. Her eyes caught the slight bulge in the bottom of the case. A brand new case like this shouldn't be warped. Unless it had been damaged through careless handling. Lennea examined the bottom of the luggage, ran her hand around it until her fingers caught against a small, metal protrusion. Immediately, a door sprang open.
Lennea stared at six, thick rows of American money. She lifted one stack, then another; they were all one-hundred-dollar bills. She had to be looking at close to sixty thousand dollars!
* * * * *
Chapter Three
The onl
y sound in the shadowy room was the rapid pounding of Lennea's heart. Where could the money have come from? Horrible thoughts raced through her mind—Delores involved with shady characters, Delores a part of some illegal drug deal.
She thought about Delores' frequent trips back and forth into Mexico with Wesley Hern. A sick feeling rose to her throat as she wondered if Delores had been slipping money and narcotics across the border on these trips all along.
Delores and she had one real tie— Delores shared her admiration for Wesley Hern. That, alone, had thrown them together, had caused Lennea to obtain the job of her dreams. Other than this, Delores and Lennea had little common ground for friendship. At times Lennea did admire Delores' boldness, her sharp wit, her vitality, yet experience had made her painfully aware of the girl's faults, her unreliability, her self-indulgence, her tendency to live beyond her means. Delores seemed to have an uncanny knack of getting into trouble.
Lennea's mind rehearsed the way Delores had disappeared at the airport and the knot inside of her stomach grew. It appeared almost as if Delores had planned this! The thought made her dizzy, almost ill. Delores intended to make a dupe of Lennea by letting her take the risk of going through customs with thousands of dollars of undeclared money!
Lennea was shaking now, with delayed fear as well as apprehension. If the customs official had discovered this concealed money, she might, at this very moment, be sitting in some Mexican jail!
The money! She was almost afraid to look down at the rows of crisp, green bills. Her first thought was to immediately turn it over to the Mexican police—but in case Delores was innocent, that would be a disastrous betrayal. She must at least wait until she talked with Delores, until she was certain whether or not Delores was involved.
Telling Joseph about the money tempted her. He could help her decide what to do. Again she hesitated, remembering how he had been so conveniently on hand at the airport. And tonight, when he had come into her room to politely inquire about the luggage—. She had foolishly believed that he had been so charmed by her that he could not wait until morning to see her. Instead, he was more likely to have been attracted to the contents of Delores' suitcase! The thought hurt her more than she cared to admit. She had wanted to believe in Joseph. Yet her instinct warned her that he must be involved in this, he, and his accomplice, the Mayan man. It was very likely Delores knew no more about the contents of the suitcase than she herself had.
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