Path of the Jaguar (15 page)

Wesley was coming over to her side. "If you're finished," he said, with a cold look at Joseph. "I'd like to talk with my assistant." He took her arm.

Abruptly, angrily, Lennea shook herself free of Wesley's grasp, sidestepped both Wesley and Joseph, and hurried by people who did not even bother to glance toward her. Outside, she wondered why she felt so hurt, not at Wesley's flagrant rudeness that consigned her to insignificance , but by Joseph's earnest, heartfelt criticism.

At the doorway, she encountered the Guerreros talking with the police inspector from Merida. "Lennea, we really enjoyed the lecture," Neysa said.

"Yes, it was just wonderful," Sid added. She glanced in dismay from Neysa's complacent face to Sid's satisfied grin. They seemed as genuinely pleased with her lecture as they were with Frank LaTilla's artwork. Somehow, the thought made her want to cry out in anguish.

"It's too bad Delores isn't here to share in all the excitement," Neysa said.

They had accepted without question the story Lennea had made up in order to explain Delores' absence. She had simply told them Delores had decided to quit her job and get married.

"He must be some catch," Sid remarked a little sadly, "to make Delores drop everything and run back to the States like that. I suppose he's a millionaire."

"Didn't I tell you when you were in my office just how things would turn out?" Carlos Alfonso, coming to life at the mention of Delores' name, demanded arrogantly. The immediate dislike Lennea had felt for him in the Merida police station again surfaced.

"Delores is safe, anyway," Neysa said.

Probably Neysa was making reference to her vision, which she had linked with Delores' absence. But was Delores safe? Had she actually left Mexico? It was too early to be worried. Delores hadn't had time to reach Val's—surely by tonight! How much Lennea anticipated Delores' phone call which would free her to turn the money over to the police and breathe freely again!

•

Almost eight o'clock, and still no call from Delores.

"You look just lovely tonight!" Goldie was chirping. "That violet color makes your blonde hair really shine!"

"Thank you." The Indian-print skirt and violet blouse was the brightest outfit in Lennea's small wardrobe. She had known that Goldie, so fond of vivid colors, would love it. She smiled warmly at her. She was beginning to grow fond of Goldie, to depend upon her enthusiastic talk, her predictable cheerfulness.

"I wish Frank and I were going," Goldie sighed. "But he has business to take care of. And we've been to so many. But I never tire of seeing those huge pyramids illuminated with a thousand different colors!"

Lennea's burdens lightened a little. She was glad that the lecture was over. The anger she had felt toward Wesley this afternoon had been gradually diminishing. The discovery of this well was by far the biggest event in Wesley's career. His interruption of her lecture now seemed of little importance.

She felt slightly guilty, even a little foolish, over begrudging him the spotlight.

While her annoyance at Wesley was rapidly fading, her anger at Joseph still seemed to burn with ever-growing intensity. Welsey had the excuse of his excitement over his sacred well; Joseph had no excuse for his impertinence at all! Joseph's caustic remarks, the disappointment in his eyes, still cut through her like a knife. Why did his words have the power to hurt her so? Maybe it was the tiny bit of truth in them that stung so sharply.

"Lennea, I hear a car in the driveway. I believe Wesley is here." Goldie's voice was a welcome interruption, and Joseph's image vanished from her mind, replaced by a vision of Wesley. He would be wearing the crisp brown suit, she guessed, the one he saved for faculty luncheons and special occasions.

She heard the doorbell chime. Smoothing her hair, she walked toward the patio. As Lennea passed the window, she noticed the huge blue car waiting. A Rolls Royce! She could feel her pulse pounding in the hollow of her throat. Wesley must have rented it from Merida especially for the occasion! In anticipation, she opened the door just as the chime sounded again.

"You!" Lennea stepped back from the door in amazement. Not Wesley, but Joseph, stood waiting in the darkness. He wore a white shirt, dark jacket and trousers. And upon his head, tilted at a jaunty angle, was a chauffeur's cap. His white teeth flashed against olive skin as he bowed low, "At your service, Madam."

"What—what are you doing here?"

"Why, Hern asked me to pick you up for him." Mocking eyes under dark brows seemed to relish her discomfort. "Seems he's too busy to come for you himself." Dark eyes swept over her appreciatively. "You look so lovely tonight I almost wish you were my date."

"I'm not going!" Lennea backed up a few steps. She attempted to close the door, but a black-shoed foot prevented her.

"He'll really be disappointed if you don't show." Joseph taunted mercilessly. "And on his big night, too. Why, he just might never forgive you!"

Mexican music, low and romantic, drifted from the radio of the luxurious Rolls Royce. Joseph, heedless of Lennea's warning, began to talk with his usual zeal, telling her how much she would like the Sound and Light Show.

Resentfully, she wondered how he would know what she liked and didn't like. "It sounds like a tourist trap to me," she said. Undaunted, Joseph continued, "I like to imagine that the lights are brightly-colored walls. It gives me an idea of how Chichen Itza must have looked in the old days—before the arrival of the Spaniards."

She shrugged.

"Just wait", he said. "You're eagerness is bound to billow." He glanced at her, attempting to make eye contact. She turned sharply away, staring out of the window into the darkness.

Not discouraged by her silence, Joseph continued his cheery talk until they reached the gates of Chichen Itza.

He escorted her to the place where folding chairs set near the foot of the huge temple. Lennea searched for Wesley. She finally discovered him among a group of gray-haired men, no doubt professors from the University in Merida. Wesley turned and seeing her, came quickly forward.

He was wearing the brown suit. Wesley stood taller, straighter, and he moved with an aura of confidence. Days out in the sun had just slightly tanned the pale skin, making his eyes seem bluer, his fine hair lighter than ever. He stopped under the harsh, overhead light, so close she caught the scent of his favorite aftershave, slightly sweet upon the warm air.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come to pick you up," Wesley apologized. When he stooped slightly to look down at her, she noticed the skin beneath his eyes was still pale where his rimless glasses often rested. The contrast made his eyes seem even deeper, more brilliant, almost like cut glass. "Dr. Mendoza and I are still working out the details for the diving permits. It's all politics from now on."

"It's all right, Wesley. I understand." Lennea did understand. Once again, she had taken a back seat to his work. But isn't that what she had always done, what she must continue to do, if she wanted to be a part of such an important man's life?

Wesley took her hand in his lean, cool one. "Come on. The local anthropologist and his wife are saving us a seat."

Something compelled Lennea to glance back, to search for Joseph. She was a little sorry she had been so rude to him. After all, he had been doing Wesley a favor by picking her up. She caught one fleeting glimpse of his dark head, his proud, erect shoulders, as he disappeared into the crowd. After his torrents of praise for the show, wasn't he even intending to stay?

Wesley's hand left hers as soon as they were seated. She wished he would put his arm around her or in some way acknowledge awareness of her. Nothing she could say, she decided, would penetrate his absorption. No doubt he was going over in his mind the details of the diving expedition. She had once again lost him to science and technology, to the magnitude of his great discovery.

The Sound and Light Show began with music, eerie and sourceless, drifting over the crowd like the sigh of a restless wind. Though Lennea realized there must be a tape recorder hidden within the nearby stones, this knowledge did not make the primitive beat of the music any less effective. She felt mystified, allured by its sound, as if she were suddenly thrown back into another time, another dimension.

One by one, the pyramids began to glow with lights. The Temple of the Warriors shone with yellow the color of sun rays; the Temple of the Jaguars was bathed in blood-red. Lennea caught her breath. The colors made the old structures spring to life, as if they were suddenly awash with fresh paint. The temples merged together, gathering form, unity, taking on the appearance of a powerful city!

Suddenly, Lennea could imagine priests in their colorful headdresses, peasants pulling carts, the bustle of everyday life. Listening to the primitive music, looking at the steep, glowing walls, Lennea caught a fleeting glimpse of the magnificent place Chichen Itza must have once been.

Essence, spirit, understanding—Joseph's words suddenly came back to her filled with a meaning that had until this point evaded her. Eager to share her enlightenment with someone, she turned to Wesley. "Wesley, I think I understand now what Joseph—" With a feeling of shock, she realized that she was addressing her revelation to an empty seat. A few rows down, she now saw Wesley, whispering and gesturing fervently to Dr. Mendoza.

Lennea continued to listen to the music, to watch the lights, but some of the magic was gone. She had spoken to many classes about how the serpent appeared naturally twice a year at the time of the equinox, how the pyramid had been so skillfully designed that the late afternoon sun shining upon the edges of the stone steps formed perfect isosceles triangles, leaving an image of a gigantic serpent, but she hadn't once had the slightest idea of what this appearing would be like! She stared in wonderment as triangular wedges that formed the serpent's body joined the stone head at the base of the temple!

She joined the wild applause which ended the Sound and Light Show.

On the ride back to the hacienda, Wesley repeated for her all of Dr. Mendoza's words.

"I hope you enjoyed this evening, Lennea," he said, as he walked her to the door. I wanted this to be a special night for you. That's why I rented the Rolls."

"It was a lovely gesture." One, she thought with a stir of cynicism, more likely to impress Delores than her.

"We'll have to do this again. As soon as our work is over."

Almost woodenly, she raised her face for his kiss. His lips, when they met hers were cool. She wondered at their lack of warmth and desire. She pressed her face against his shoulder. She was in Wesley's arms now, where she had always wanted to be. So why did she feel this disturbing sense of loss?

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve

At the village Lennea asked the man at the bank to help her make a phone call to Val, who told her Delores had neither called nor arrived in Scandia. That news along with the stinging disappointment she felt over Wesley, left Lennea shaken and apprehensive. Lennea would give Delores only one more day, two at the most. But she wouldn't go to Carlos Alfonso. She would go to Cancun, if necessary. She would take the money with her.

But what was she going to do about her new view of Wesley? He had taken advantage of Delores, willing to leave her without credit or recognition for all the work she had done on his book. Yesterday, he used Lennea in the same fashion. Wesley cared for no one but himself! How ill that thought made her.

The little voice that always rose to Wesley's defense, now reminded her that Wesley, too, had been under much pressure. Once they were back at the University, he would once again be the great man he had always been in her eyes.

When Lennea pulled into the yard at the LaTilla's, she noticed the same battered Ford Rico had driven angled close to Frank's shed. Thinking Frank would be inside, she entered the dim room, able to make out a long table where Frank had been carving a Mayan head. Her eyes strayed across storage boxes and along the walls, hung with diving equipment and digging tools, and came to rest in a darkened corner where the sack full of carvings Lennea was supposed to have delivered to Sid spilled out unto the dirt floor—grotesque in their amateurishness, meaningless in their place of rejection.

"LaTilla's gone to Merida," intruded a raspy voice.

Lennea recalled having seen the man at Frank's farm, and thought about the sulky way he had responded to his argument with Frank. Today he looked older, more stooped. His gaunt face was sunken and lined, and his eyes, half-hidden by folds of skin, regarded her sullenly.

His gaze wandered to the woodcarvings on the floor. "Stupid statues," he said. "He spends more time with them than with the henequin."

He walked to the wall and began picking out diving equipment as he answered. "No. I haven't seen her this summer. Rico doesn't want to dive without her. Rico, that's my son," he added proudly, "dives for Dr. Hern."

"Will you tell Rico to have Delores contact me?"

The old man faced her. The small smile, without affection or joy, made him seem shoddy, evil. "I'll bet one thing. When she hears about Hern's well, she'll show up!"

At the door to the shed, she watched his abrupt departure in the battered Ford. Her meeting him increased her discouragement. She was anxious to get to her room, to shower and rest. Lennea found the door to her room wide open. Aghast, she peered inside. Val's suitcase, the one she had borrowed, lay with broken back, at her feet. Across the floor in every direction, the clothes she had not unpacked were hurled. Taking a deep breath, Lennea walked around the ruined suitcase to view the damage done to the rest of the room. Pictures, torn from the wall, lay distorted on the floor, contents from the chest, dumped, mattresses pulled from the twin beds.