Pictures of You (5 page)
Authors: Barbara Delinsky
Retracing the steps she had taken earlier, Eva easily found the living room, which she assumed to be the site of this gathering. Her hunch was correct. As she appeared at the doorway of this front room, conversation was already in progress among a group of menâseveral standing, several seated on and around the sills of the elongated windows that overlooked the street. There were four men in all, two of whom conversed in low tones in a language Eva guessed to be French from the few word fragments that the evening breeze gently carried to her across the room. Both men were of above-average height and athletic build, though one was fair-skinned and auburn-haired while the other was dark, a well-trimmed black beard accentuating the immediate sense of mystery, even threat, which sent a brief shiver through Eva. The other two were somewhat younger, perhaps in their early twenties, she guessed. Both had an American Ivy-League look about them, from their faded jeans and open-necked Oxford cloth shirts to their loafer-shod feet. One, a sandy-haired fellow with a friendly look, had a pullover sweater draped around his shoulders, prompting Eva to note for the future the potential of the evening breeze. The last young man was lean as his buddy had been, but he was darker, his thick brown hair falling carelessly across his forehead. Eva was struck by something very familiar in his face, a feature she couldn't
pinpoint but which distinctly reminded her of someone elseâthough she wasn't sure of whom.
pinpoint but which distinctly reminded her of someone elseâthough she wasn't sure of whom.
The conversations had continued during her brief, and unobserved, evaluation of the group from the doorway. Not one to flaunt her own good looks, Eva was nevertheless aware that she did present a pretty picture as she stood thus beneath the door frame. Whatever she lacked internally in the absence of a fresh change of clothes was well compensated on the surface by those she wore. The stylish sun dress, yellow with a delicate flowered pattern in pinks and roses, contrasted effectively with her brown-red hair, its curls soft and full around her face, their circular tendrils echoed in the round-framed glasses, whose color coordinated perfectly with the floral print of her dress. Now the younger dark-haired man glanced up and spotted her, a warm smile overspreading his features as he jumped out of his relaxed stance against the window frame and came forward to greet her.
“Mrs. Jordenson, welcome!” he began, the warmth of his smile echoed in his soft voice and immediately spreading to Eva, who had felt some trepidation at confronting her fellow travelers for the first time. Relieved to hear English automatically spoken, she extended her hand to meet his firm grasp, finding comfort in his sincerity. It dawned on her that he must be an insider here, to have expected her, even known her name on such short notice.
“I'm Paul Sanders. I don't believe you know any of the others.” He drew her confidently into the room toward them, one hand remaining lightly at her back as he made the introductions.
“Eva Jordenson ⦠Jacques Laurent.” He gestured toward the auburn-haired man, his name confirming her suspicion of his origin. The latter smiled easily, his eyes lighting his features as he took her hand in his.
“I'm very pleased to meet you, Eva. And very pleased you'll be joining us,” he added in beautifully accented English, a twinkle in his eye to match the image of the debonair Parisian.
Paul's hand gestured again. “Pierre Langelier,” he moved on, the second Frenchman nodding in silent acknowledgment but making no movement toward her other than the ominous glare his eyes threw in her direction. Quickly, as if to escape some impending disaster, Eva turned her attention to the final face, that of the sandy-haired young man, who had now arisen from his seat to greet her.
“Tom Allen ⦠Mrs. Jordenson.” Was it a hint of warning which Eva detected in this last, more formal introduction? Shrugging it off as her imagination, she met the smile and the hand which were offered.
“How are you, Tom?” she added warmly.
“Ah, she has a voice!” burst back Tom, his infectious grin setting the tone. “I'm just fine, now that you're here. Do you know that my friend Paul, here, had the gall to imply that this was an all-male expedition? Imagine that! Can you see me spending four days in deserted mountains with only these faces for company?” As he looked in mock panic from one face to the other, Eva laughed aloud, the first time she had done so in ages, she realized. Yes, this trip would be good for her!
Returning his friendly banter, she explained, “It was a last-minute decision on my part to come, so Paul was not entirely mistaken. As a photographer, I couldn't turn down the opportunity.” She carefully avoided the hint of any other reasons for her presence. “What is your motive?” she added, eager both to learn something of the others and to keep up the easy conversation.
Tom went on, “I'm on intersession from law school.
My roommate here conned me into this little jaunt. For my health, he says!” His smile fell on Paul good-naturedly, before his eyes returned to wink at Eva.
My roommate here conned me into this little jaunt. For my health, he says!” His smile fell on Paul good-naturedly, before his eyes returned to wink at Eva.
“Don't let him kid you. A greater adventurer I've never met! In fact, I probably wouldn't be here myself had it not been for Tom's enthusiasm,” retorted Paul, humor softening his words.
Aware that the two Frenchmen were following, though not participating in, the exchange, Eva turned to the more pleasant of the two, Jacques. Phrasing her question to apply to them both, and thus avoiding a further query to Pierre, whose grimness made her uneasy, she ventured, “You are French, I gather?”
“
Oui,
madame,” began Jacques with a sweep of the arm across his waist in a confirming bow. “Pierre and I are business acquaintances. I live in Paris; Pierre is from Tours,” he explained amenably.
Oui,
madame,” began Jacques with a sweep of the arm across his waist in a confirming bow. “Pierre and I are business acquaintances. I live in Paris; Pierre is from Tours,” he explained amenably.
In a mock whisper audible to all, Tom leaned toward Eva. “You'll have to excuse Pierre. He doesn't say much to beautiful young ladies.”
As though in answer to the challenge, a deep, harsh voice broke into the discussion. “And where is the beautiful young lady's husband?” he taunted, his heavy accent barely disguising the undertone.
Eva knew that she would have to learn to cope with this inevitable question. “My husband is dead,” she stated simply, defiance in her eyes as she met Pierre's. They definitely rubbed each other the wrong way, Eva knewâa sad way to start an expedition such as this.
A heavy silence besieged the conversation. At that moment all eyes riveted to the front door as Roberto de Carvalho strode boldly into the house. His mere physical presence dominated all othersâa born leader, begrudged Eva, even as he broke the aura of tension which had formed.
The wide-brimmed hat was gone, laying open his
features for Eva's inspection. As from the first time she had set eyes on him, she was stunned by his good looks and oozing masculinity. He had not changed his clothes since their encounter upstairs; here, the bright lights emphasized the broad lines of his chest, the leanness of his torso, the power of his denim-clad legs.
features for Eva's inspection. As from the first time she had set eyes on him, she was stunned by his good looks and oozing masculinity. He had not changed his clothes since their encounter upstairs; here, the bright lights emphasized the broad lines of his chest, the leanness of his torso, the power of his denim-clad legs.
Roberto's eye caught and held hers for a brief moment, their dark expression an enigma to Eva. Fearing the rebirth of the stirrings within her, she tore her gaze from him, diverting it to Paul in subtle suggestion. But it was Roberto who spoke first, taking the lead as she knew he would, in his smoothly commanding tone.
“I assume that everyone has met. I've just made a final check on our supplies; everything seems to be in order. We'll have dinner now. While we eat I can fill you in on the details of our expedition and answer any questions you may have.” Having thus said his piece, he added, “Please follow me,” and headed through the doorway.
The group filed one by one down the long, narrow hall toward the furthermost area of the house, the customary placement of the kitchen in the tropics to isolate the heat of cooking as much as possible from the other rooms. Roberto had gone first; Eva managed, in spite of gentlemanly gestures by the others, to maneuver the two Frenchmen ahead of her, putting a much-needed buffer between Roberto and herself.
The kitchen was a spacious room, dominated by open windows, wide countertops, and a large rectangular table set in the middle. Eva was immediately enchanted by it, admiring the feeling of ease, openness, and relaxation which it urged. And adding to her pleasure was the sight of the lovely little woman, her own guardian angel, she mused, who had been so kind to her earlier. From her position before the cast-iron stove, this plump figure threw Eva a friendly smile and
secretive wink before turning her attention back to the food she was busily spooning into serving dishes. Without a moment's hesitation, Eva moved forward to lend a hand with the transfer of the food to the table, when she was abruptly caught by the elbow and firmly escorted to a place at the table. Silent but questioning eyes traced the arm from her elbow up past a sinewy shoulder into the face of Roberto, whose oddly fierce expression bade her sit before he forced her down himself. Annoyed by his interferenceâbut in truth more puzzled by his apparent impatience with herâshe sat, thereby permitting the others, with what she thought was inappropriate formality, to do the same.
secretive wink before turning her attention back to the food she was busily spooning into serving dishes. Without a moment's hesitation, Eva moved forward to lend a hand with the transfer of the food to the table, when she was abruptly caught by the elbow and firmly escorted to a place at the table. Silent but questioning eyes traced the arm from her elbow up past a sinewy shoulder into the face of Roberto, whose oddly fierce expression bade her sit before he forced her down himself. Annoyed by his interferenceâbut in truth more puzzled by his apparent impatience with herâshe sat, thereby permitting the others, with what she thought was inappropriate formality, to do the same.
The tempting aroma wafting from the freshly prepared food startled Eva with the realization of how hungry she was. The last food she had eaten had been the early lunch airborne between Rio and Belo. How much had happened between then and now! But Eva was determined not to let her thoughts get bogged down again, so she turned her concentration to the food and the company.
Throughout the meal Roberto graciously played the host, explaining the nature and origin of each local dish, which was served quite ably by Maria, as she was introduced. Eva was doubly appreciative of this information; not only did it satisfy her innate curiosity but it enabled her to subtly avoid eating any fish. A generally healthy person, she invariably suffered a violent allergic reaction when she consumed fish of any kind, regardless of its preparation. The main dish served this evening, a Brazilian specialty called
feijoada,
had contained many ingredients she could not recognize through the thick black gravy. Despite its mouth-watering smell, Eva hesitated to sample it until Roberto detailed its ingredients: black beans, beef, pork, tomatoes, and spices, at which point she dug in with relish,
savoring every bite. Although she carried a strong prescriptive drug with her at all times to counteract the allergy should she mistakenly ingest any fish, she didn't want Roberto de Carvalho to know of this weakness. She knew that it would only bolster his first impression of her, which she was determined to prove wrong.
feijoada,
had contained many ingredients she could not recognize through the thick black gravy. Despite its mouth-watering smell, Eva hesitated to sample it until Roberto detailed its ingredients: black beans, beef, pork, tomatoes, and spices, at which point she dug in with relish,
savoring every bite. Although she carried a strong prescriptive drug with her at all times to counteract the allergy should she mistakenly ingest any fish, she didn't want Roberto de Carvalho to know of this weakness. She knew that it would only bolster his first impression of her, which she was determined to prove wrong.
To Eva's surprise and pleasure the evening passed quite enjoyably, with an absence of the awkwardness that might have existed within a group such as this, coming together for the first time on the eve of a trip destined to throw them into intimate association with each other. Small talk dominated most of the early conversation, the casual talk giving each a taste of the background of the others. Eva chatted comfortably with various members of the group, finding herself most at ease with Paul. They discussed subjects that involved a minimum of controversy, such as photography; traveling; New York, which Eva knew so well; Boston, where Paul and Tom attended law school; and the relative merits of hiking boots, which Paul had brought, and sneakers, which Eva had brought.
Eva carefully avoided Roberto's eyes, particularly at moments when she felt his gaze burning through her. Fortunately, although he sat at the head of the table and was clearly the host, the Ivy-Leaguers, Paul and Tom, managed between the two of them to keep the level of conversation fast and the humor high. Jacques joined the discussions frequently, his voice deep and melodious with its gentle accent. Pierre, on the other hand, remained aloof, adding a word here or a grunt there, but never opening up as the others had done.
At the conclusion of the meal and with the obligatory serving of
cafèzinho,
Roberto turned the discussion deftly toward what clearly excited him more than photography, traveling, New York, Boston, or footwearânamely, the details of the expedition. As the six
sat around the table, cleared now of all dishes save the tiny coffee cups that Maria continually refilled, he proceeded to outline the plans.
cafèzinho,
Roberto turned the discussion deftly toward what clearly excited him more than photography, traveling, New York, Boston, or footwearânamely, the details of the expedition. As the six
sat around the table, cleared now of all dishes save the tiny coffee cups that Maria continually refilled, he proceeded to outline the plans.
“We'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow, which means that you should pack tonight. We've got four donkeys for use as pack animals. Each of you will have one knapsack to hold whatever personal items you will need. Remember, you carry your own pack, so beware of its weight.” This last he directed pointedly at Eva, much to her mortification. “Bring only the absolute necessitiesâa change of clothes, a towel, a few cosmetic items. You'll need a sweater or jacket of some sort, since it can get cool at night. But the days will be hot as we climb, so choose accordingly. With a little luck we won't get caught in a downpour. Although they do occur during this season, it's not worth dragging along heavy rain gear just in case. A little rain won't hurt any of us, especially after sweating in the heat for several days.” A faint snicker interrupted him. For herself, Eva was grateful for her tinted lenses which hid her slight embarrassment at his bluntness.
“I've got a sleeping bag for each of you and an ample supply of food and water for the four or five days we should be gone,” he continued. “The main burden for the pack animals will be the equipment we will need when we reach the mine.” Here he paused to draw a dog-eared piece of paper, yellowed with age and bearing the distinct tracings of coffee-cup stains, from the western-style pocket of his shirt.
Eva's eye had followed the hand-to-chest movement, lingering on the latter long after the other eyes had turned to the map. Roberto's monopolization of this part of the conversation had enabled her to study him freely, outwardly as the others were doing but inwardly in a quite different manner. She noted his posture, casual yet alert, a statement to the world of his continuous
involvement. Her eyes roamed the breadth of his chest, resting on the dark hairs that had escaped the confines of his shirt in its narrow vee, before climbing the tanned column of his strong neck to alight on his now animated face.
He looks almost boyish,
she thought,
when he enjoys what he's doing, obviously the case right now.
Eva smiled with an affection that startled her, her mind nowhere near the map, which the others were so seriously studying. At that moment Roberto glanced up at her. Her smile vanished immediately, replaced by a slight flush of the cheek. His expression held a note of amusement and mockery, his eyes sending her a private message which only increased her blush. With as much conviction as she could muster, she turned her attention away from Roberto and onto the map that was to lead the small group of mountain wanderers to the Espinhaco Topaz.
involvement. Her eyes roamed the breadth of his chest, resting on the dark hairs that had escaped the confines of his shirt in its narrow vee, before climbing the tanned column of his strong neck to alight on his now animated face.
He looks almost boyish,
she thought,
when he enjoys what he's doing, obviously the case right now.
Eva smiled with an affection that startled her, her mind nowhere near the map, which the others were so seriously studying. At that moment Roberto glanced up at her. Her smile vanished immediately, replaced by a slight flush of the cheek. His expression held a note of amusement and mockery, his eyes sending her a private message which only increased her blush. With as much conviction as she could muster, she turned her attention away from Roberto and onto the map that was to lead the small group of mountain wanderers to the Espinhaco Topaz.
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