"Yes, it's the end of the tourist season, but we do have another set of guests coming in a week. University people. They're coming to look at the cenotes, or something."
Was anybody planning on telling me these things, Camila wondered. Just when she was hoping not to have to share "her" bathroom any more, too.
"Anyway," Chico said. "The Jeep is filled up and ready to go. Javier is ready to leave whenever you are."
Of course he would be, she thought harshly. She was surprised at how bitter she was about last night, as if he'd insulted her. She knew that he had not actually rejected her. She knew he took himself away to fight the temptation to touch her.
But it still hurt. And now she was expected to go to Cancun with him?
Chico stood up and left her to finish her breakfast -- or, more accurately, to pick over the rest of the sticky buns and then toss them out the window.
Still, she thought, as she returned the tray to the kitchen where Martina was busy shaping the tortillas for the day, a trip to Cancun was a trip to Cancun. And there was one thing she could count on Javier for, and that was being quiet.
It would be awkward, but, well, she'd be able to enjoy herself, at least.
Martina nodded at a pile of pesos on the counter, and a note underneath it. "That's what we need you to get in Cancun," she said. "We've given you a little extra to buy yourself something nice."
"Aw, Mom," Camila said.
"Happy birthday," Martina said. Her hands never stopped rolling out the balls of dough.
This was probably as celebratory as it was going to get in the house, Camila realized. She picked up the keys to the Jeep, gathered the money and the list, and went to find Javier.
He was in his room, kneeling next to his bed.
"Hey," she said. "Let's go."
He didn't say he was sorry for last night, which was just as well, because it would have been a lie. But at least they would have been talking.
As they walked to the Jeep in cold, stony silence, Camila couldn't help but think that maybe all relationships were built on secrets and lies.
~ ~ ~ ~
Read the next book by Isaiah Fields:
If you like this book, you will also like Opaque Memories...
HE IS MORE... AND NEVER WHAT SHE OR ANYONE CAN EVER IMAGINE
IN THE DEEP SHADOWS OF THE JUNGLE LIES THE SECRET
More and more evidence is telling Camila that Javier is more than what he can remember. She cannot put it aside anymore. He is someone supernatural -- but what?
A research team has arrived as guests in her parents' Bed & Breakfast and Camila and Javier have to come along their exploration of the jungle for the sacred cenotes as volunteers. The coming of the American's, especially of the cocky per Drew, instantly put pressure on Camila and Javier's budding relationship. But as they go deeper into the jungle, Javier begins to see familiar surroundings that trigger in him horrible memories of being sacrificed. And Camila doesn't know how to help him.
But lost memories aren't the only things lurking in the forest. There is also danger, and it is about to ambush Camila and Javier, and their guests....
Unravel more of this fascinating book, continue reading Opaque Memories...
~ ~ ~ ~
Related Books
Did you enjoy this book? I recommend reading these related books, available on various retailers:
The Rising
The Wild's God
The First Voice
The First Mission
Bonus Preview:
Opaque Memories
Chapter One
"WHAT HAPPENED IN CANCUN?"
It was all Camila had been asked since she and Javier returned from the city, only now it came from her mother. The answer, though, still hadn't gotten any easier.
What happened indeed? Camila thought. She had tried, for the hundredth time, to explain. Again, her mind failed her.
"We keep hearing about something crazy -- the snakes..."
What took place on that day could not be explained simply. Words eluded her. Even a week after they got back -- or fled Cancun, depending on one's perspective -- Camila could not bring herself to describe what had happened when they were there.
The day had begun innocently enough. She and Javier got into the Jeep and drove the forty miles to the city. Javier apologized, she accepted; and by the time they arrived in Cancun, the icy silence had melted into lukewarm awkwardness.
Things still weren't quite back to how they had been but it had been just a matter of time.
At first, things had gone well. Camila bought the things her mother and father had put on the list, ordered what she had to from the suppliers and bought mangoes with chili and salt for herself and Javier to snack on while they went to the beach. In all the time Javier had lived with the Fuenteses, he had never tried to go swimming and he didn't think he knew how to swim. Still, under Camila's gentle prodding, he agreed to let her buy him a cheap swimsuit -- a scandalously scanty and electric-blue Speedo knock-off -- so he could try to at least float on the water. Camila changed into her bikini and they entered the blue waters, giggling nervously and holding hands like any other teenage couple.
Camila eased Javier into a floating position when they reached waist-high water. And then the riptide came. A powerful current suddenly rose and swept them out to sea.
It seemed to have come from nowhere -- one minute they were floating in the calm blue waters, the next they were clinging to each other as the water churned around them and dragged them away from the shore.
It was all Camila could do to keep Javier's head above water! Javier had gone catatonic (from the shock, Camila supposed, in retrospect) as soon as they were in deep water. Camila wasn't worried about herself -- she knew what to do against a riptide. But swimming while pulling more than her own body in dead weight was almost impossible.
They were drifting fast, faster than she had thought was possible from a riptide. That just meant she had to get swimming. She shook Javier, trying to get him to snap out of it so that he could at least help her by floating.
He responded by getting yanked under the waves.
Camila panicked. She couldn't see him. She was a good swimmer but diving was a different story -- never mind diving in the open ocean! The whining buzz of the lifeguard's Jet Ski approached and she waved frantically. When it got near, the lifeguard tossed her the buoy and told her to hang on.
"We can't leave now!" she screamed. "My boyfriend is--" She gestured in the water.
"What?" he asked.
"He's down there!" she sputtered. "I don't know what happened! I was trying to get him to snap out of his shock, and he... he just sank!"
The lifeguard spoke into his radio. "She says her boyfriend sank," he said. "I don't know. I can't see--" He broke off suddenly, staring into the distance.
Camila started to snap at him, "What are you doing?" until she followed his gaze.
And she, too, stared. She just couldn't believe what she was seeing.
It was Javier, and he was being borne on a raft of snakes back to the coast. He was unconscious -- his body made no movement to resist or aid the movement of the huge serpents bearing him through the waters.
Camila did the only thing she could think of. She flung herself back into the water and swam after him. Behind her, she could hear the lifeguard sputtering indignantly, unable to decide whether to go after someone who was -- by lifeguarding standards -- clearly suicidal.
Oddly, there was no riptide now, an observation that disturbed her only slightly as she knifed through the waves. It would disturb her more later, when she attempted to tell the story again. She was going with the current now, gliding through the waters so fast it felt like flying. Her arms grew tired and her legs grew stiff but she was still going strong when she touched the bottom.
The snakes had brought Javier to the part of the beach that was still wild and empty but they hadn't left him. They were writhing over him, under him and around him. Camil
a felt her breath catch when she saw one of the serpents coil around his chest and squeeze. She staggered onto the shore, her legs numb and weak, screaming and shouting, "Get away from him!"
A mouthful of water gushed from Javier's mouth. Only then did the snakes slithered away.
Camila ran up to him and collapsed by his side. "Are you alright?" The words fell out of her mouth even as she realized he was still unconscious and that his eyes had turned up in his head, giving him a ghastly look.
She pinched his nose shut and bent over to seal his lips with hers, but then he gasped for air and bolted upright again. Camila could have died with relief right there. "I thought you were dead!" she cried, happily.
He looked at her, his expression stony with rage. And the chill of fear quelled the wave of indignation that rose to meet his lack of gratitude.
"Javier?" she ventured.
And that was when she realized his eyes were still rolled back in his head so that only the whites were showing. She gasped and startled backwards, falling onto the sand.
There was shouting further up the beach. She saw two lifeguards running down the shore towards them and the one on the Jet Ski zipped to a stop at the water's edge and got off.
Camila wanted to wave them off. There was something weird going on with Javier and she wanted to figure out what it was before she had to talk to the authorities. But then, when she turned back to him, he was normal. If normal could be said about how he appeared then. He was trying to smile, and his eyes were green again. He also looked pale and weak.
"Thank you..." he whispered. "Again."
She couldn't speak. She just reached out for him and held him tight until the lifeguards had arrived.
Chapter Two
THE LIFEGUARDS SCOLDED her for swimming after Javier while they called out the sand buggy but she just sat there timidly. She understood their worry. Then they gave Camila and Javier a lift back to the resort part of the beach where Camila bought lemonade for all of them, though the lifeguards were on call for another two hours and could not drink.
The official report ended up saying that Javier had been washed ashore and attacked by a snake, and that Camila scared off the snake. But even though they all agreed that this was what happened, nobody could look each other in the eye when they talked about it. So they didn't. Javier claimed not to remember anything anyway.
But Camila felt sure that he was lying. She didn't know why she knew or why he was. But they both couldn't look each other in the eye because of this.
That word of what happened would filter back to the village was inevitable. She had already expected that the stories would be exaggerated -- that Javier had summoned the snakes and was rescued by a mermaid. Later versions included a storm and a whirlpool. But what Camila had not anticipated was how difficult it would be to tell the truth.
Even now, she could not find the right words.
"We went swimming," she said to her mother. "And we got swept out. Javier got washed ashore where he was attacked by a snake. That's all."
Martina, for once, was not enraged. "Oh, Camila," she sighed.
They were making the beds for the research team who would be arriving later that day. Camila's mind was focused on making sure the sheets were smooth and the blankets were properly tucked in.
It was only later that she was puzzled by the fact that her mother, too, was too preoccupied not to be more annoyed the way she used to be when something like this happened.
CAMILA ONLY had a passing knowledge of who Professor Adam Simons was. He was the guy who wrote the books that Martina bought and read. He was some expert in Mayan history or something -- Camila didn't know and after they moved to the Yucatan, she cared even less. Just because he was an expert about the things that made her miserable didn't mean she was obligated to know who he was.
On the jacket covers of the books in Martina's bookshelf, Professor Adam Simons was eternally young, dressed in khakis with a surfer's shag and a tanned, sun-wrinkled smile. A pencil was tucked behind his ear and a pair of binoculars dangled from his chest. It never occurred to Camila that this picture would be staged. So she was surprised at the small, sixty-something man wearing a tailor-made button down shirt and oxfords who descended from the monstrous truck that roared into their driveway.
"Adam," he said, smiling brightly as he shook hands with everybody.
And he flitted (here, there, everywhere), directing his students Drew and Meryse with a quiet voice that somehow managed to convey great haste. He completely ignored Javier, who usually took care of the unloading and luggage.
"Take this to the missus of the house," he said to Meryse, handing the student a fruit basket full of mangoes, Camila saw. As if we didn't have enough of those, she thought. "And Drew, stay with the scuba gear until I figure out where to put it. And, oh! Before I forget," to himself as he scrambled back into the truck. He pulled out something wrapped in a rag. "Where is Martina?" he asked nobody and everybody. He repeated himself in Spanish and Yucatec.
That was rather impertinent, Camila thought as she smoothed her skirt and stepped into his line of view.
"Martina?" Adam asked, holding out the rag-wrapped bundle. "Wow. You haven't changed a bit--"
"I'm Camila," she said, fumbling between Spanish and English before she settled on English. "Her daughter."
Adam's smile became a self-deprecating one. "Oh, silly me. Of course. Lovely to meet you. Is your mother around? I used to be her advisor as an undergraduate student -- Oh, Martina! There you are! You really haven't changed a bit. I recognized you right away. You have a lovely daughter."
Martina smiled and they exchanged kisses on the cheek. He thrust the bundle at her, saying, "I bought you a little guest present," he said, "to thank you for allowing us to stay."
"Thank you for choosing to stay with us," Martina said formally as she unwrapped the gift. It was a pair of geodes, or rather one geode, cut so that they could be used as a pair of bookends. They were dark, warm amber with light and dark rings rippling around a crystalline and clear center. "Oh, they're beautiful," Martina said, and to Camila's surprise, her mother held them to her heart and smiled. But only for a moment. "Javier," she said. Javier slid back into view. "Take the equipment to the shed," she told him. "Make sure to lock it when you've finished."
Javier made a quick bow and went to the back of the truck. "Lemme help," said Drew. "It's heavy," he said as Javier grunted. Javier ignored him. Drew scowled until Camila said, "He doesn't speak English, only Spanish."
Eventually, everything was unloaded and the guests were installed in their rooms. The guests took the rooms between the servant quarters and Camila's parents. There was no view of the ocean from there but the breeze that came off the sea was such that a pleasant current of air swirled through all the rooms, nonetheless.
Camila led them on a tour of the house -- the courtyard, the bathrooms and the chicken coop.
Adam complimented everything with a long rambling story. The bathtub became a history of porcelain. The towels became an explanation on how cotton was ginned. The sheets was a rambling muse about how thread counts became important in determining luxury. He was extremely knowledgeable in almost everything, from mosaics to gardening to culturing.
It ended up that as the guests accompanied Camila on a tour of the house and all of its amenities, he spoke more than she did.
Chapter Three
"I IMAGINE YOU must be tired," Camila said as they walked back to their room. His jaw, anyway, for all that yakking about.
"Not at all," Adam said.
"Well, we're beat," Drew cut in before Adam could continue. "Six hours of flying, with two three-hour stopovers and customs gave us hell in Mexico City." He was short for a guy, five-feet six inches, stocky, with a buzzed head and a demeanor that reminded Camila of the ROTCs in her graduating class. Even now, he stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back. "I'd like to take a nap, sir, if that's okay with you."
Y
ep, definitely ROTC, Camila thought.
"Of course. And Meryse?"
Meryse was quiet. She had reddish hair that she kept pulled back into a ponytail and her eyes looked as if they were only half-open behind her round glasses. "I could lie down for a while," she admitted. Her voice was a whispery sigh. Camila wondered how she survived having Adam for a professor.
"All right," Adam sighed, like he was disappointed.
The students quickly disappeared into their respective rooms, leaving him alone with Camila.
"So tell me, my dear, are you going to go to school in Mexico?"
For a man who was as talkative as he was, the professor was a good listener and he followed Camila as she gathered together the tableware for dinner and set the table, and nodded understandingly as she told him about how difficult it was to attend school and that she missed the US and wanted to attend college.
"But where do I start?" she asked. There were no guidance counselors here. The only people who could give her recommendations were illiterate (or only wrote Yucatec, which amounted to the same thing for all the good it did her). And even if she were to miraculously get accepted and find the money to attend college, there was still the matter of getting out of the Yucatan.
Adam was sympathetic but much to her surprise, he didn't make any stupid suggestions like "Why don't you just get a job?" So she found him good company. No wonder her mother acted like she was still in love with him.
Well, yeah, it is kind of obvious, isn't it?
Camila finished setting the table. Adam followed her out to the chicken coop and praised the birds. "Martina always did have a good eye for good chickens," he said.
"You knew my mother," Camila said, and they both knew what she meant, like he knew her. It was a statement but the questions were obvious enough: How did you know her like that? Where? How long? What happened?
Adam nodded. "I was her professor during her undergraduate days," he said. "I...well, we..." He trailed off, lapsing into silence. It didn't take Camila long to figure out what he couldn't say. "Anyway," he said crisply, "I'm glad that she has made a good life for herself here and now."
"She never said anything about you," Camila said. "She just has all of your books."