Cinderella in Overalls (20 page)

As if he’d read her thoughts, he leaned against the blackboard and cleared his throat. “What do you think of the sleeping arrangements? I hope you’re not allergic to straw.”

“No,” she said. “What about you?”

He shook his head.

“On the other hand,” she said, “it’s a little stuffy in here. I’ll move my mattress over to the window.”

“Good idea.” Before she could protest he was shoving both mattresses across the floor and wedging them together without a space between than.

Her brain spun with images of the length of her body pressed against his, his breath on her cheek, falling asleep in the warmth of his arms. “This is a business trip, isn’t it?” she asked slowly, her eyes troubled.

“Of course,” he said, as if he didn’t know she was referring to the sleeping arrangements and the growing sexual tension between them. “I just haven’t brought up the subject of the loan yet. I’m waiting for them to say something. But you know more about village etiquette. That’s why you’re so useful. That’s why I brought you.”

His blue eyes were clear and guileless. Useful, he said, like a calculator or an automatic teller machine. She felt foolish. He only put his mattress next to hers to enjoy the fresh air coming in through the window.

“What do you think?” he continued, lowering himself to the edge of the straw mattress. “Am I supposed to bring up the loan or are they?”

“Well, uh...I guess it’s better to just wait,” she concluded.

He rubbed his hands together briskly and stood. “That’s settled. Let’s go to dinner. They’re expecting us.”

Josh watched Catherine bend over the child-size sink to wash her hands. Her dark hair tumbled forward across her cheek. Despite his easy assurance he was having a hard time concentrating on the purpose of this trip. He was stuck on this island, trying to pretend every fiber of his being wasn’t crying out for her.

What had possessed him to bring her here with him, then kiss her on the boat and now move his mattress next to hers?

He might be able to sleep in the same room as her, but how could he sleep next to her where he could see the moonlight shining on her hair, smell the scent of the soap on her skin, and not gather her into his arms? He had told himself not to move both mattresses, but somehow the message had gotten lost between his brain and his hands.

This whole trip was turning into a shambles because he couldn’t stop thinking about Catherine. About how to get closer to her, physically and emotionally. No matter how close he got, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to explore her body, every inch of it, and he wanted to know what was in her mind, every corner of it.

When he looked up, she was standing at the door, watching him and waiting. He gave her a reassuring smile and patted her on the back casually as she walked ahead of him, keeping his hand pressed to the small of her back as they crossed the clearing.

She paused to admire the llama tethered next to Miguel’s house. She stroked its soft fur. “I wish I had one of these. They carry huge loads and have sweet dispositions.”

Josh watched her lay her cheek against the soft fur of the animal’s neck. “I’ll get you one.”

She shook her head. “Where would I keep it?”

His hand met hers on the llama’s back. Her fingers were warm and her touch sent vibrations up his arm. “In the field behind your house.”

“I mean, when I leave. What would we do—ride off into the sunset together, my llama and I?”

His eyes traced the outline of her lips, the shape of her eyebrows. “It would be quite a sight,” he admitted. “But maybe you’d better wait until you get a farm of your own.”

She stiffened and pulled her hand away. “I’m not going to get a farm of my own. If I don’t own anything, I won’t have anything to lose.”

He opened his mouth to protest this philosophy, but just then the door of the hut swung open and Miguel beckoned to them. He seated them around a small table where they ate fresh fish with wheat cakes. After dinner Miguel’s wife got out her knitting. Catherine watched while Miguel’s young son wove a toy boat out of reeds.

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of the neighbors. They filed in, taking places on the floor and finally occupying every inch of space on the straw mats that covered the dirt.

Seated on the floor with the others and pressed tightly against Josh, she was conscious of the muscles in his arms, the fresh smell of the lake that clung to his clothes. While she studied the faces around the fire, wind-burned, weathered and lined with creases, she translated what the villagers said. As it turned out, they went straight to the subject of the loan.

“They say the reed boats are like wild horses. Hard to control. If they have motorboats, they can go smoother and farther and catch more fish.”

“Who will they sell the extra fish to?” Josh asked.

“A big company is opening a cannery on the lake, and they’ll buy all the fish they can catch. Trout were released in the lake some years ago, and they’ve grown beyond all expectations. They say they’re huge.” The men nodded and held out their arms to show how big they were.

“Tomorrow,” they said, “you will see.” Then they trooped out of the hut with promises to meet at dawn the next day to take Josh and Catherine out on the lake. Thanking Miguel and his wife for the dinner, Catherine and Josh strolled to the shore to look at the boats before retiring to the schoolhouse.

The night air was cool and soft on Catherine’s skin. After sitting cross-legged in the small hut, her muscles ached to stretch out. At the edge of the lake she paused. A full moon appeared from behind the clouds and flooded the lake with its brilliance. She gasped. It looked like a pool of silver. From behind her she heard Josh’s sharp intake of breath.

“Silver,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “No wonder it drives men crazy.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.

She leaned against him, savoring the warmth of his body, feeling his heart pound. Was he thinking of the mine? Should she tell him Pedro had agreed to take him there? She didn’t want to spoil this moment if he said no. This magic moment when the lake turned to liquid silver and her body felt like liquid fire.

She turned and he saw her face, pale as alabaster in the moonlight, tilted up to his. He struggled with the passion that raced through his body. He wanted to make love to her under the silver moon. If he kissed her now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Her eyes told him she wanted it too, but how would she feel in the morning in the cold light of day when he went back to being a banker in line for a promotion and she was a farmer without a farm?

Reluctantly he took her hand, and they walked single file back to the schoolhouse. She didn’t speak and he sensed her disappointment, or was that wishful thinking? Maybe she was relieved. She changed into her nightgown in the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of pink fabric like spun sugar, and he remembered the nightgown hanging from the wall in her bedroom. The one she’d worn the night in the hammock.

He lay down with his clothes on and pretended to be asleep when she came out. When he heard the straw rustle on the mattress next to him, he didn’t open his eyes. But he knew how she would look with her curves barely concealed, the sheer material grazing the tips of her breasts, and he turned over and buried his face in the flat pillow.

He heard her whisper good-night to him, but he didn’t answer. His throat was clogged with desire. How much could a man take?

At dawn the fishermen knocked on their door, and Josh leaped off his mattress and waited outside with them to drink strong coffee while Catherine got dressed. He’d slept fitfully, visions of Catherine in her nightgown coming and going, but never staying long enough to take hold of. Just like real life. He saw the men look at him with curious glances. Were they trying to decide what to think of his relationship with Catherine? He couldn’t help them there. Half the time he didn’t know what to think of it, either.

He smiled and talked to the men and drank coffee, but his eyes were on the door of the schoolhouse until she finally came out wearing a red sweatshirt and tan pants. Among the reeds she stood out like an exotic flower. Her cheeks stone as if she’d scrubbed them in the small sink, and her brown eyes sparkled in the early-morning light. The men offered her coffee and a chunk of bread, then they all went down to the shore.

They pushed off in separate canoe-shaped balsas before Josh had a chance to say anything more than good morning to her. Her boat dipped and bobbed while Josh watched nervously. He saw her grab the edge of the balsa as she leaned forward to speak to the fishermen.

“We paddle gently so as not to awaken the sleeping goddess who lives in the reeds,” an old man from the front of her boat said.

Catherine smiled sympathetically, shading her eyes from the rising sun. She could see Josh in the boat ahead of her. With his head and shoulders outlined against the sky, he might have been the sun god himself.

But he wasn’t a god; she knew that. He was a man and he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But he had more restraint than she did. He’d fallen asleep before she’d even finished undressing, while she’d lain awake for hours, thinking about him. She reminded herself of her vow to keep everything on a business basis. It was clear he hadn’t forgotten, and she was grateful for that. Grateful, but also a little disappointed.

In the middle of the lake the men gave her a pole and showed her where to drop her line. In a few minutes she had a trout, and then another and another. By mid-morning they were dragging a bucket of large fish behind the boat. Voices echoed across the lake as the men in her canoe shouted to the men in his canoe. One of the young men in her boat confided that when they got their motorboat they would be able to use gill nets. The cannery would buy all they could catch and they would be rich. She asked what they did with the extra fish they caught now. He told her the women took them to town to barter for salt and flour and supplies.

The boats met for lunch on a small island where the men built a fire and cooked fish. Josh took Catherine aside and they sat on the shore, looking out at the treeless hills that surrounded the lake, eating crisp filets fried over the open fire.

“So far so good,” he said. “The lake seems to be full of trout. I caught six myself. But I didn’t see much else. I hear the trout did away with the smaller fish that were here originally.”

She nodded. There was something about that that disturbed her.

“They really know what they’re doing,” he continued enthusiastically. “And I agree that riding in a balsa boat is like riding a bucking bronco. I thought you were going to fall overboard at first.” He watched the wind blow her hair into a tangle of curls and felt the same stab of fear again as he had when he thought her boat was capsizing.

“I thought so, too. But now I’m kind of used to it.”

“The motorboats will be faster and they’ll have better control,” he said, noticing the way the wind whipped the color into her cheeks.

An uneasy feeling nagged at the corner of her mind. “What about the sleeping goddess?” she asked. “How will she feel when the motorboats come ripping through here?”

He studied her face, counting the freckles the sun had dusted across her nose. “Who?” he asked at last.

“She lives in the reeds at the bottom of the lake. That’s why we paddled gently.”

The full intensity of her liquid dark eyes caught him, and he felt his mind reeling. “Are you making this up?”

“No, you can ask the old man in my boat.” Frowning slightly, she laid her hand on his. “I like these people. I want them to get their boats and their gill nets, but... but...”

“But you think the sleeping goddess or the sun god might object?”

She shook her head. “I’m serious. I’ve heard stories of what happened in Alaska to the salmon. The canneries came in and subsidized the fishermen. They abandoned their trawlers and went for floating factories. When the waters were fished out, the Department of Fish and Game had to shorten the season. One year it was twenty-four hours. Can you imagine how that would affect their lives?”