Path of the Jaguar (2 page)

Lennea felt exhausted, unsure of herself. Because of her tiredness, normal occurrences were probably being distorted. "I'm glad to find you," she said. "Can you help me put a call through to Wesley Hern?" She searched through her bag as she spoke to him. "He'll know exactly what to do."

A shadow darkened Joseph's face. "The only thing we can do is wait and see if Delores does show up," he said. "She's certain to contact you."

It was plain that he didn't want her to call Wesley. She thought again of the slight traces of anger on Joseph's face when she had first met him, anger so soon replaced with charm and solicitude. Even in his banter she had sensed some undercurrent. Once more that uneasy feeling, that sense of warning, pervaded her consciousness.

Who was Joseph Darrigo? Was the Mayan working with him? To do what? Through her lashes, she gave him a sidelong glance as they moved toward the telephone booth. Even the way he walked, the set of his straight shoulders, confined by tan suit, commanded authority.

Joseph talked to someone on the phone in fluent Spanish which changed without a pause into fluent English. "Hern? This is Joseph Darrigo. We've run into some problems here at the airport. Lennea wants to talk to you."

Lennea accepted the receiver, wishing Joseph would go back to the chairs and wait. He stayed where he was, so close that she was made uneasy by his nearness.

Lennea explained to Wesley about Delores' disappearance. Dangerously close to tears, she included the fact that many hours had passed.

A long hesitation followed on the other end of the line. "Delores is unpredictable," Wesley said. "You of all people should know that."

"Delores wouldn't just leave. Not without her suitcase. Not without saying anything."

Another hesitation, longer this time. "Why don't you just leave a message for her and continue on to Merida? Delores will show up. She knows how to take care of herself."

Lennea replaced the receiver, feeling disappointed, feeling left alone to deal with Delores' disappearance. No doubt Wesley was unable to imagine peppery, over-confident Delores as a potential victim. He couldn't visualize her as Lennea saw her—a beautiful young woman, lost through mysterious circumstances, by herself in a huge, foreign metropolis.

"No," Lennea answered. "Let's wait through the night." The enormous airport terminal did not stop its perpetual motion, but did slow down as the hour grew later. Lennea watched for Delores, for the Mayan man, with weariness increasing as time passed. Often Joseph left her to prowl about the station, returning with cups of steaming coffee or some snack that was to ease the burden of wait and worry.

On one such absence, Lennea fell asleep, her thoughts drifting as they usually did to Wesley. She imagined them alone in the steamy jungles of the Yucatan. Wesley wore khaki clothing, casual clothes that in actuality he would never, ever wear. He held her close against him, something he had never done, and he was whispering, "Lennea, Darling, I love you so!"

Lennea awoke with a start. At first she believed she really was in Wesley's arms. Her head remained contentedly against his shoulder, and an arm rose sleepily for an expected embrace. She felt the pressure of a hand against her long blonde hair, fingers entwining loose strands in a gentle, comforting grasp.

"You were sleeping so peacefully," Joseph's voice was as soothing as his touch had been. "Come with me. Let's take another look around."

"You go on." As her eyes followed Joseph's quick departure, she wondered why she hadn't just gone home for the summer. Scandia, Kansas, so peaceful—none of the fears there she was feeling now. The only hassle would be the bachelor farmers her sister Val continued to place opposite her at the dinner table. As close as Val and she were, she could not admit to her sister that all those things that made Val so happy were not for her—the garden, the clubs and picnics, the four children and one on the way.

Dad, of course, opposed archaeology, anthropology, and Wesley Hern, who he had never met. He, along with Val, wondered why his twenty-four-year-old daughter couldn't cook a decent meal and why she wasn't content to settle down, marry, and become a part of the close-knit Swedish community.

Joseph had stopped to speak with the man at the desk. Intense words of Spanish passed between them. As Joseph turned, dark eyes seeking for her, she understood that he had some information about Delores and hurried to meet him.

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 pry."

"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.

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.