A Candle in the Dark (45 page)

She unclenched her fists and pasted on a smile. “I’m fine, Jiméne. Only tired.”

“You have not rested enough,” he chided gently. “You are not well yet. Come now, you must eat. Serafina has made some fish.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Ana pushed away from the wall. “And I’m not very hungry.”

Jiméne frowned. “But,
cariña
—”

“In fact, I think I’d like to take a walk.”

“A walk?” He looked confused.

Ana nodded. “Just a short one. I—I think I need some air.”

“Ah,” he said thoughtfully. “Of course. The sun would do you good. I will go with you.”

Panic surged through her. “No, really, Jiméne, that’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is not, but I should like to go just the same.”

“But—”

“We can talk, eh,
amiga
?” He took her hand, nestling it safely in the crook of his arm. “We have not talked in a very long time.”

Ana fought for calm. It was better this way, she told herself. She still had to steal the steamer tickets from Cain, and more than that, she couldn’t very well leave without directions. Jiméne knew how to get to Panama City. There was no need to panic. Just as soon as she wormed the information out of him, she would be able to leave.

Her stomach clenched, she felt a sudden ache where her heart was, and Ana pushed it away. There was no time for it now. Her sanity was at stake. This was the best way, the only way.

She repeated the words silently as Jiméne led her outside. The sun had just risen, but already it was growing warm, she felt the prickles of sweat start in the valley between her breasts, the soft, moist humidity.

Jiméne patted her hand reassuringly. “You look much better, Ana. Perhaps it is too much to hope that my family does you good?”

Ana felt a momentary pang of sadness. “Your family has been wonderful to me, Jiméne. I will miss them very much.”

“You do not have to go for days yet. Even then, if you do not wish to. We would all like it very much if you and D’Alessandro would stay.”

“You have enough to take care of without us.”

Jiméne was thoughtful for a moment. “Is it so important,
cariña
, that you go on to San Francisco?”

Ana drew away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “We must go at some point, Jiméne. We can’t just stay here forever.”

“No.” He smiled. “Though I can wish it.”

“The steamer leaves in a week.”

“You will stay here until then?”

Ana nodded, though the lie felt heavy in her chest. “I think so. How far is it to Panama City from here?”

“Only a day.” He motioned to the trees off to his right. “There is a path there—a road—that we take into the city when we go. It is very safe. Only peasants use it, and they have nothing to steal.”

Ana tried to see through the trees, but the path was well hidden. “Is it wide enough for a mule?”

“Two mules,” Jiméne boasted. “We made the beginning ourselves, Amado and Juan and I. It is wide enough for a wagon. A small one. Once you must go, Juan and I will travel a short distance with you. Perhaps, if you like, we will go with you into town.”

“Perhaps.” Ana felt like the worst kind of traitor. It was so easy, getting information from Jiméne, and though she should have been glad, she felt strangely… miserable. She pasted on a slight, thin smile. “We can decide then.”

“
Sí
, we will decide.”

They stood in silence for a moment, so long that Ana turned to go back to the
quincha
, opened her mouth to make some excuse for him to leave her here so she could hide. But before she could speak, Jiméne sighed heavily and turned to her. His amused countenance was gone, in its place a strange resignation.

It was so startling she stopped and stared at him. “Jiméne?”

“We are friends, are we not,
cariña
?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“As I thought. Perhaps then, you will not mind if I ask a question?”

A trickle of discomfort seeped down Ana’s spine. “Of course.”

“Ah, then.” His voice was a whisper, and he looked away. “Will you give me the truth?”

She stepped back warily. “If I can.”

He nodded, stroking his mustache. “I will ask you this again, for a different reason this time. Must you go to San Francisco?”

Ana stiffened. His very demeanor made it impossible to dismiss the question as lightly as she had before. “Why do you ask?”

He pursed his lips, folding his arms across his chest and staring into the distance as if trying to figure out best how to say something. “I ask because of D’Alessandro.”

“I… see.”

“No, I do not think you do, Ana.” He looked at her. “I do not think he belongs there.”

“He doesn’t have to go,” she said breathlessly. “He’s under no obligation to me. If he wants to stay, he can.”

“
Cariña—”

“We aren’t husband and wife, Jiméne. You know that.”

“
Sí. Sí
, I know.” He looked at her with eyes that seemed to pierce her. “You would leave him behind so easily, then?”

Ana started. It was as if he knew. But then, he couldn’t know she was planning to leave Cain. She’d barely determined that herself. Ana forced herself to remain composed. It was only her imagination, her guilt. She looked steadily back at Jiméne, but her words felt pulled from her throat. “I would have him do whatever he wants. It has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Jiméne argued softly. “You may not be husband and wife,
amiga
, not in words. But in your hearts…” He shrugged.

She looked away, denying the fear his words inspired, and the leaden lump in her throat. “You said you did not think he would do well in San Francisco. What did you mean?”

“I have heard there are many hard men there.” He paused. “And hard women.”

Ana felt his eyes on her face, and she refused to look at him. “There are people like that everywhere.”

“
Sí
, there are,” he agreed. “But it is not often that the woman a man loves is one of them.”

She turned to him then. “I don’t understand you.”

“It is merely this,
cariña
,” Jiméne said simply. “D’Alessandro loves you. You will destroy him if you become again what you were.”

“Why not just say it, Jiméne?” Ana stared at the horizon, tightening her arms over her chest. “A whore. I will destroy him if I become a whore again.”

“As you say.”

“I never stopped being a whore,” she said, softly because the lump in her throat was so large.

“Only you believe that, Ana.”

Ana squeezed herself, pressing her lips together in a thin line because it felt as if they would tremble if she didn’t. She felt like a blight standing there in the bright sunshine, with nothing but darkness inside her. Darkness and fear so intense she couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare into the horizon and feel Jiméne standing there beside her.

Finally he touched her arm, startling her. Ana jerked around.

“I must go back,” he said gently. “They wait for me to go to the fields. You will think about what I said, Ana? You promise me you will think on it?”

She nodded shortly. “I will.”

“That is all I ask then.” He took a deep breath. “I will see you later?”

“Yes.”

“Then
hasta luego
.” He bowed slightly, and she watched as he strode back to the
quincha
, leaving her alone.

It occurred to her then that she should be grateful and relieved. He had left her by herself, left her without having to make an excuse to stay behind. She could wait until Cain left the
quincha
, steal the tickets, and borrow a mule without arousing any suspicion. It would be hours before anyone noticed, and by that time, she would be halfway to Panama City.

Yes, she should be relieved.

But all she felt was despair.

Cain lay in bed, trying not to worry about Ana. It had been half an hour since she’d left, and he still felt the tingling on his lips from their kiss, but her obvious discomfort had killed his desire. Now all he wanted was to get her alone somewhere and force her to tell him what was wrong.

Because something was definitely wrong. Cain got out of bed and grabbed the clothes he’d left lying there the night before, shaking them out absently. The gentle
click click click
of insects hitting the bamboo floor caught his attention for a moment, but when he saw there were no scorpions, he let his thoughts unfocus again and shrugged into his shirt and pants. Damn, he could not get rid of this feeling. It was like a black cloud over him, an elusive warning.

He shook his head as if that could clear it away. She’d promised they would talk tonight, and for now that had to be good enough. Besides, he had no other choice but to wait. But the thought didn’t make him feel any better, and Cain strode distractedly into the busy main room.

Serafina looked up from baby Melia and smiled, but the smile dropped from her face quickly. “My God, what has happened?”

Cain’s frown deepened. He glared at her, trying to think. “What did you say?”

“Is something wrong, Doctor?”
Doña
Melia’s face was lined with worry. “You look angry.”

“Very fierce,” Serafina added.

“Like a lion,” Enzo offered helpfully.

“Like a lion,” Cain repeated slowly. It dawned on him then that he was frowning. He sat on the bench next to Enzo, and rubbed his eyes. “I’m all right,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Are you sure?” Serafina leaned over him, peering into his face. “You do not look fine.”

He leaned away. “I am fine. Just thinking, that’s all.”

“Is it usually such a painful process for you?” Serafina teased.

That forced a wry smile from him. “
Touché, señorita
.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “
Touched
I do not understand this
touché
.”

“It means that you wounded me deeply with that comment.”

“Ah.” She nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Then perhaps some breakfast would make you feel better?”

“Perhaps it would.” Cain waited, watching Enzo eat a banana with great gusto and sticky fingers, while Serafina went to the fire and dished out some rice and yams. He looked around the room. Amado, Juan, and Jiméne were no doubt already in the fields, minding the cattle.

When Serafina set a plate before him, he picked up his spoon slowly, trying not to ask the one question he wanted to ask. His willpower lasted about two seconds. He set down the spoon. “Where’s Ana?”

“She should be doing the wash with Dolores,” Serafina said.

His anxiety lessened. “Oh.” He picked up his spoon again. “Where?”

Serafina laughed. “For a man with such a beautiful wife, you do not keep track of her well.”

“Serafina,”
Doña
Melia objected. “Behave yourself.”

“I am only teasing him, Mama. Look, what a gloomy face he has. Cain, Cain, you are not in a good mood this morning, I can tell.”

He regarded her dourly. “I’ve had better days.”

“See, Mama? He could use some laughter today.”

“Perhaps.”
Doña
Melia looked at him measuringly. “You look as if you have the headache, Doctor. There is some water outside, perhaps it will do you good.”

Cain sent her a grateful glance. It was what he needed, to be alone for just a moment more. He rose from the bench, trying to act nonchalant as he left his uneaten breakfast and went outside to the clay water barrel. But though the cool water didn’t ease the ache in his head, it did help him compose himself. He spent a long time there, letting the water run over his skin, listening to the murmur of chatter from inside the
quincha
and waiting for his edginess to fade. By the time he went back inside, he felt at least able to hold a conversation.

Jiméne was seated at the table, polishing off the rest of Cain’s breakfast. He smiled when Cain came through the door, pushing aside the plate. “We could use your help today, D’Alessandro, if you can.”

Cain nodded absently. “Of course.”

“Good.” Jiméne rose quickly. “Then come now, we must go before Juan gets angry. The man has a terrible temper—have I told you that before, Serafina? Your husband is like a raging bull when he is mad.” Jiméne motioned impatiently. “Come along, D’Alessandro. We do not have all day. The sooner we leave, the sooner you can return to your lovely wife, eh?”

He’d been wrong about the soothing effect of water, Cain thought wryly. Jiméne’s words only brought back his unease. The last thing he wanted to do was work with Jiméne and the others in the fields all day, away from Ana. He’d be useless. Already he could barely concentrate on Jiméne’s unending chatter as they went to the stable.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like tonight, when he saw her again. He wouldn’t hold back, he decided. For once, he would tell her everything he wanted to. Tell her that without her, he was nothing, that he wanted her with him forever. Tell her he wanted to see her face every morning when he opened his eyes, that he wanted those long, dark evenings with nothing to do but sit in front of the fire and read and make love far into the night.

Tell her he wanted to see her grow heavy with his child.

Christ, the image was so strong it nearly made him shake. A child, a family. It was what he wanted, what he had always wanted. A real family, people who loved each other, who didn’t use each other. A family to make him forget his past. She was his only hope for that, because he knew deep inside that if she refused him, he would never find someone to take her place. It was long past time to tell her that, whether she was ready to hear it or not.

When they reached the stable, he stood watching as Castañeras grabbed the halters from a pile on the floor and went to where the mule stood, chomping contentedly.

“
Perdition
, it is as I thought. Juan has taken the other mule.” He turned to Cain apologetically. “One of us must walk to the fields, I am afraid,
amigo
.”

Cain nodded, barely listening.

It took a moment for Jiméne’s words to register, but when they did, the breath caught in Cain’s lungs.