Читать книгу Man With A Mission - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 10

“So, your sister was working in the village of Huayllabamba when she was taken?” Ana opened up a small map and spread it across the table. They’d just eaten their fill of the pink-fleshed trout, and Isidro had cleared all the dishes away.

Jake’s knee accidentally brushed Ana’s as he sat forward to study her map. Again. He moved it. His left elbow splayed out on the linen tablecloth and brushed her right arm. He moved it. Somehow, his emotions, his yearnings and his worry for his sister were all becoming jumbled up inside him in one large, confused ball of sensitized nerves. Every time Ana looked at him, he melted inwardly. Her eyes were so full of life, laughter and kindness. He could feel her compassion toward him over Tal’s disappearance. It wasn’t an act. She understood. Still, Jake held his feelings in check. Just because she showed him a little warmth and compassion didn’t mean she was suited for this mission.

“Yes,” he muttered, scowling as he angled his chair so he wouldn’t keep bumping her. Touching Ana was a delicious and unexpected gift to Jake. He hadn’t expected to be drawn so powerfully to Ana especially now, with Tal’s life on the line. “I talked to the executive vice president of the Wiraqocha Foundation and she said Tal was going to be working with six different villages, looking for water and the best place to sink a well for each. Huayllabamba was the third village on her list. That’s where she disappeared.”

“I see,” Ana murmured. She tried to ignore the pleasant tingles on her knee and arm where Jake had accidentally brushed her. The turmoil in his pale blue eyes told her he was stressed and worried.

Tracing the black lines on the map with her slender index finger, Ana said, “This is a map of Machu Picchu and Rainbow Valley area. They are inseparable. The neck of the valley spills into the jungle, dropping from fourteen thousand to six thousand feet to intersect with the Machu Picchu Reserve. A reserve is like a national park—it’s a protected area.”

She tapped the map with her finger. “See this? It is our railroad—our lifeline, the only way to get in and out of Machu Picchu from Rainbow Valley, unless you want to fly in or out by helicopter.” Her eyes crinkled and she looked up and met Jake’s attentive gaze.

A sheet of warmth spread through her. Did she see longing in his eyes? Impossible. Ana decided she was more starved for a man’s company than she’d realized. That was all it was, she told herself silently. Just an instant attraction that would dissolve as quickly as it had sparked between them. He was still grousing whenever he found an opportunity, insisting that no woman should be on a mission like this, but she ignored his grumbling.

“We can take the train from the depot down the street to Kilometer 88. The train stops there briefly every day. We can get off, then cross the mighty Urubamba River by foot, on a rope bridge to the other side. There we can pick up the Inka Trail and head toward Huayllabamba. The trail parallels another river, Rio Cusichaca. We’ll be climbing from six thousand to nine thousand feet in order to reach Huayllabamba. What was the next village on her route?”

Jake unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and spread it open. “Here’s her full itinerary. Most of the place names I can’t even pronounce.”

Laughing softly, Ana studied the handwritten list. “Hmm, after Huayllabamba, she was to go to Paucarcancha and then Pulpituyoc, where there is a temple site. These are all located along the Inka Trail.”

“What is the Inka Trail?”

Ana lifted her head. She saw Jake frowning as he intently studied the route she’d laid out. “It was created hundreds of years ago by the Inkas as a path between Rainbow Valley and Machu Picchu. Both places were important centers to the Inka empire. It’s made up of carefully cut stones that have been placed on a path about a meter wide. The stones are about the size of a modern-day brick, usually, but there are larger ones, too.”

“A lot of labor went into it, then,” Jake said. He liked the way Ana’s mouth moved. The corners naturally flexed upward; that told him she laughed and smiled a lot. More and more of his tension and anxiety were dissolving beneath her very capable manner and her gentleness. Again, Jake found it tough to imagine Ana being a combat helicopter pilot. But then, he also admitted he didn’t have a clue about the complex makeup of any woman. Especially someone like Ana. Still, he was powerfully drawn to her and wanted to know more about her on a personal level. The mission was in the way, though. And his heart was with Tal. He had no business being even mildly curious about Ana as a woman.

Chuckling, Ana said, “You could say that. So, do we have a plan? We’ll get our gear in order and hop the train?” She looked at her watch. “It’s a little after noon. There’s one leaving in about twenty minutes, and we can make that if we walk fast. The train station is about a half a mile from here. Ready?”

Jake nodded and stood. He automatically went over and pulled out the chair for Ana. She blushed beautifully over his courtly manners. He liked the slumberous quality he saw in her cinnamon eyes as she rose.

“Thank you, Jake. That was very unexpected and kind of you.”

He grinned a little shyly. “Chivalry isn’t dead, after all,” he murmured, shrugging on his pack. “White knights still exist. At least, in the form of a U.S. Army officer.” He saw Ana place her pack on her chair and open it up. She withdrew a beautiful handwoven scarf of brilliant rainbow colors. Placing it around her neck, she knotted it gently so that it hung between her breasts.

“That’s beautiful. What is it?”

Ana closed her knapsack. When she started to put it across her shoulders, Jake quickly picked it up and held it so that she could easily slide her arms through it. His fingers brushed her shoulder. Her skin tingled. “Thank you,” she said a little breathlessly. As she headed for the stairs, she said, “It’s my chalina. I don’t know if they told you of my background,” she said, taking the stairs quickly, with Jake fast on her heels. “I was born in Ollytatambu, at the end of Rainbow Valley. My mother is of the Que’ro bloodline, the last of the Inkas. She is a laykka, a healer. And when I was growing up, she taught me to weave, as all daughters are taught the art.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Ana waved goodbye to Patrick and moved out of the restaurant and down the concrete walk toward the main thoroughfare of Agua Caliente. It was glutted with tourists from around the world. Jake quickly caught up to her and walked at her shoulder, his head cocked toward her as she continued to talk.

“Every teenage girl makes her own chalina. They are always of rainbow colors because my people believe the rainbow is the two-headed snake of creation.” She picked up the flowing end of the woven alpaca. “When a young Quechua woman decides that she is ready for a sexual relationship and marriage, she wears this. It is a sign that she will consider an offer from a young man of her choice. When she finds the man she wants to love, she will place the scarf about his neck and let him know that she wants to commit to a long, serious relationship with him. If the young man accepts, then they go off and consummate their relationship. Afterward, they visit each of the parents’ homes and tell them of their commitment to one another. Both families must approve of their intention.”

Jake raised his brows. They moved quickly down the concrete highway, weaving in and out of the heavy human traffic. On either side, one-and two-story homes stood. Natives dressed in colorful clothing walked in the crowds selling T-shirts, jewelry and other tourist items. “I don’t think your tradition would get very far in the States.”

Ana laughed pleasantly. She absorbed Jake’s interest and attention. She had just spent a year without any male company and was beginning to understand how starved she’d become for conversation with the opposite sex. Men and women were different, and she enjoyed those differences. “Maybe it should. At least we are more open and honest about wanting to love another person.” She patted the chalina gently as it swayed back and forth with her quick stride. “We don’t sneak around, either. It’s a very open, aboveboard signal. No guesswork.” She grinned. “And it puts the emphasis on long-term commitment. This is not a roll in the hay, as I suspect you think.”

Jake had the good grace to blush. “I didn’t say that.” By now they were crossing the plaza. Every town in Peru, he understood, had one. It was a central meeting place for the entire community and was bordered on all four sides by buildings. The cathedral was made out of gray and black granite stones, all carefully cut and laid. A testament to Inka ingenuity and skill, the stone wall was smooth and beautiful looking.

“Knowing what I know of norteamericanos,” Ana said impishly, “your people have very puritan views of human sexuality and sensuality. Down here in South America, we honor a woman’s beauty in every way, and we also embrace our sexuality as well. It’s not a taboo or dirty thing to be hidden or be ashamed of. And we don’t go around rutting like sheep, either. The Que’ro way of using the chalina signals openly a young woman’s desire. Before that, she has not had sex with anyone. So you see, it’s a very monogamous ideal and has tradition at the heart of it.”

Jake nodded. “I can see that. So is that why you are wearing it?” They moved through the square and down a hard-packed dirt slope. On his left was the roaring Urubamba River, on his right, several government buildings painted salmon and robin’s-egg blue. As they reached the bottom of the hill, Ana led him up another hill that was lined with stalls and sellers. Up ahead, he saw the train station.

“I wear it because it is a sign that I am a local. I am not a gringo. When we go into this village and I speak in Quechua to the people to try and find out information about your sister, they’ll not mistake me for an outsider.” She dug the toes of her leather boots into the hard dirt road and moved quickly toward the train station. There was a large roofed-in area, and two trains sitting on the tracks. A concrete slab provided a place for passengers to rest their luggage before boarding.

At the train office, Ana bought two tickets, handing over the soles, the Peruvian currency, necessary for the purchase. She turned and gave Jake his ticket. “We have to hurry….” she said a little breathlessly, and jogged around the building toward the first train. Jake hurried after her. They hopped on board. Ana spotted the last two seats available, in the back. As he moved toward the seat, Jake noticed the train was filled with tourists from many nations. After placing his and Ana’s packs in the overhead metal rack, he sat down beside her. Room was sparse and he was large. There was a European couple speaking German next to them, so he squeezed his bulk in, right against Ana. He had no choice. She didn’t seem to mind his nearness. Like a hungry wolf, Jake secretly absorbed her tall, firm body and the warmth of her skin against his. He shouldn’t enjoy it so much, he told himself sternly, under the circumstances.

The train jerked and started. It slowly began to leave Agua Caliente. Very quickly, it clickety-clacked into the jungle, following the Urubamba. Jake watched as Ana gently fingered the alpaca scarf with her lean, graceful hand. Knowing this wasn’t the time or place to speak of their mission, he decided to ask her personal questions instead. Anyone eavesdropping would not be any the wiser.

“So, you come from a Que’ro family? A family of healers?”

Ana enjoyed his strength and warmth against her. It was a good thing Jake couldn’t read her mind, because she was absorbing his very male energy into herself and her heart. How she missed talking with a man! She hadn’t realized how much until now. Before, she’d had Roberto, whom she met at least once a month for a weekend down in Lima, and they would chatter like two parrots to one another about so many things. Ana was now beginning to understand just how much she missed him. And when she saw the burning sincerity in Jake’s pale blue eyes, she knew she would lap up each moment of his attention like a cat being served a warm saucer of milk.

“My mother’s family has owned land in Rainbow Valley for generations. They are campesinos, farmers, close to the land and to Pachamama.”

“Pachamama?”

She smiled fondly. “Peruvian for Mother Earth. My people have a mystical and spiritual connection to all of nature.” Ana pointed upward at the green hills. “In a little while, you will see a beautiful apu, a mountain with a living spirit who resides in it. We believe that the apus are powerful guardians and keepers of our ways. Each morning, I was taught to take three perfectly formed dried coca leaves and blow into them, to honor our local apus. I would then bury the coca leaves in the soft, warm earth. It is called the Andean way, today. And it’s about honoring Mother Earth, all of nature—living in sync with them, not against them.”

“It sounds like your people have a very spiritual tie to the earth.” He saw the passion in her eyes as she spoke of what she believed in. Jake could almost see Ana sliding her long, slender fingers into the warmth of the dark, fertile earth. Just that thought sent heat tunneling through his lower body. How he’d like to be touched like that. The thought was unbidden. Moist. Full of promise. Frowning, he wondered what spell Ana was casting over him.

“Is this your first time to Peru, Jake?”

“Yes.”

“I see…. The people who farm are known as campesinos, as I said. I come from such stock, although my father is a very rich businessman, an art collector and dealer. He met my mother when he was in the Rainbow Valley looking for woven textiles to put in his galleries in Cusco and Lima.” Ana lifted her chalina and said softly, “He fell in love with my mother’s beautiful weaving ability, but even more with her. They called her the Inkan princess because she was so beautiful. All the campesinos said that she would one day give her chalina to a very rich lord. Her beauty was such that in the old days of the Inka empire, a woman like her would be taken to Cusco, to the main temple, to marry a nobleman.”

Fingering the scarf gently, Ana said, “It’s such a beautiful story that I love to tell it. My father bought every blanket my mother had ever woven. He came back every month on the pretense of seeing how she was coming on future textiles for his galleries. Here in Peru, when a man wants to court a woman and she has not given him her chalina, he may come and serenade her with song. My father, Eduardo, played the charango, an Andean mandolin made of wood, and he would sing to her as she wove on the porch of her home.

“And, over a year’s time, with visits each month, my father would talk endless hours with my mother about so many, many things. He was a city dweller, and she was tied to Pachamama and the ways of her people. He respected her for that and didn’t want to change her at all. One day, when he arrived, he brought her a doll.” Ana’s eyes sparkled as she looked over at Jake, who was hanging on every huskily spoken word.

Surprised, he said, “A doll? A man brings the woman he loves a doll?”

Ana laughed, her teeth white and even. “It’s a special doll, Jake. Around the doll’s neck was a letter with all his credentials written down on it. He told of his heritage, his family, of his financial worth, of what he owned and most of all, how he felt toward my mother. The man speaks of love in that letter, and what he will do to always honor the woman he loves, care for her and their children. He writes of his dream, his hope, for their future.”

“Well? What happened when your mother saw the doll?”

Ana grinned. “My mother was not one to fall head over heels for anyone. She’s a very practical person. You see—” Ana gestured toward the window and the hills covered in jungle growth above them “—if you are a campesino, you are hard-working, practical and sensible. My mother took the doll, thanked him and told him to go away. That he could come back in a month if he wanted.”

“The poor guy,” Jake murmured. “That was a little heavy-handed, wasn’t it? He’d come all the way from Cusco with this doll? And he’d probably written his heart out on that paper and she just airily told him to take a walk?”

Chuckling indulgently, Ana whispered wickedly, “She wasn’t turning him down, Jake. It is part of the elaborate ceremony, the dance between two people. She was testing his mettle, his desire to really be serious and responsible toward her. If he came back, then that would tell her of his commitment to her.”

“Obviously, he came back.”

Ana’s smile widened and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes. And I was the result.” She patted her heart region gently. “A very much loved gift to them.”

“You have any other sisters and brothers?”

“No, I’m an only child. My mother wished for more, but as a laykka, she had a dream, and in it, a female Apu spirit told her that her creation energy would be funneled into helping cure the sick and ailing. This she understood, so she was complete with me.”

“And your father? I’ll bet he dotes on you.”

Nodding her head, she whispered, “I love them both, so very much. I really honor my dad, who came and lived at my mother’s family home. He ran his businesses from Rainbow Valley because in his letter to my mother, he swore to never take her from the land that had created her. He saw how very much she was attached to Pachamama and he in no way wanted her unhappy. He knew she’d never survive in a city environment. I love him so much for that.”

“So, you grew up a farm girl?” Jake smiled, thinking of her as a young girl planting and harvesting crops seasonally in Rainbow Valley. He could see the earthiness in Ana. He felt it. She was hotly sensual, a quality radiating from her like the sun that gave life to all things. He liked the softness of her expression as he asked the question. The gentle rocking of the train car created a comforting motion, almost like being in someone’s arms.

“My hands were in the earth, my head in the sky, as my mother used to say.”

“And where did you get this urge to fly?” Jake wondered.

Her eyes grew merry. “I’ll tell you a story you probably won’t believe, but it’s true. When I was three years old I remember running through the freshly dug furrows of our fields where the campesinos were working, my arms outstretched, trying to ‘fly.’ Well, one day I ran to the end of the field, which had yet to be plowed by our oxen. My mother was out with the rest of the women, feeding the men at lunchtime when it happened.” Ana’s voice grew low with emotion.

“Out of nowhere, four condors landed only a few feet away from me. I remember this incident. And I remember my mother walking slowly and quietly up to where I was standing and gawking at these huge, beautiful birds. She leaned down and whispered to me to talk to them. I remember waving my arms and saying, ‘I want to fly! I want to fly with you!”’

Jake grinned. “Incredible. Do condors usually land that close to people?”

“No.” Ana laughed. “Just the opposite. They live in the high, craggy and inaccessible spots deep in the Andes, where no people can reach them. They avoid humans.”

“Then this was important?” Jake guessed.

Closing her eyes and leaning back against the dark green, plastic seat, Ana sighed. “Oh, yes, very important. My mother, being a laykka, understood its importance. As soon as I said ‘I want to fly,’ the four condors took off after lumbering quite a distance and flapping their wings. It’s very hard for them to land on flat earth and then to take off from it. Usually, they’ll land on a high crag, leap off it and float on the updrafts created. I stood there crying as they left, and my mother picked me up and held me. She said I would learn to fly like them, that although my heart belonged to Pachamama, my spirit belonged to the condors, the guardians of the air.”

Ana pulled out a leather thong from beneath her T-shirt, on one end of which was a small golden disk. In a lowered tone, she told him, “In here is part of the feather of the condor that was left behind from their visit with me. My mother picked up the feather, bought the locket and placed it inside. She told me it was my medicine, my protection, and to never be without it.”

“And you wear it to this day?”

“Always.” Ana slanted a glance at his serious face as she slipped the locket back beneath her T-shirt. “You don’t look at me like I’m loco. Crazy. Why? Most norteamericanos would roll their eyes and call what I just told you ridiculous, say that it couldn’t happen.”

Shrugging, Jake studied her thoughtful, upturned face. Her eyes were so warm and alive, the color of rich, recently turned soil. “Maybe because I’m a farmboy from Iowa? My parents have a huge corn and soybean farm, and I grew up with dirt under my nails just like you did.” He watched her eyes widen beautifully. His heart wrenched. There was such an incredible array of emotions that raced across Ana’s vulnerable features, and he could read each one. He was amazed at her openness and accessibility. And then it struck him that Ana trusted him. Deeply. Shaken by that discovery, he found himself wanting to open up to her more, too. But could he? Did he dare? No, he was afraid to because of his hurting, scarred past. Besides, he had to hold back. Had to remember he had been teamed up with her to complete a mission he didn’t think she—or any woman—was capable of.