Wednesday's Words: The Andean Adventure, Chapter 3

Did you miss Chapter 1? Get caught up now.

How about Chapter 2? Read it here

CHAPTER 3

Liam Hastings. Who was he? Why was his English so good? Hasting… that didn’t sound like a Latin American name. Did she get a thrill from his touch because he was an ancestor? And wasn’t that what Mom had said, it was common to run into your ancestors after drinking from the Witching Well.

“Please tell me how you and I met, Mr. Hastings?” DeeDee asked.

“You honestly don’t remember?”

“I honestly don’t,” she said.

“The governors Ball?”

She shook her head.

“You poured a bottle of wine over my head?”

She couldn’t stop herself from smirking. “That can’t be right.”

“It wasn’t, but you hold yourself to different standards of right and wrong.” He chuckled. “This puts you at a disadvantage Delia. How does it feel? Uncomfortable?”

“Absolutely,” she said with all honesty. DeeDee didn’t really like to travel. Time travel especially held no appeal. She preferred being in her own space with her own things surrounded by her own people.

But maybe that’s what had gotten her into trouble. Maybe that need to feel secure in her own a little bubble filled with only people she loved and trusted had gotten her into trouble. Because at least two of those people hadn’t been trustworthy. As she so often did, she mentally cursed her ex-husbands and drove them from her mind. They were of the past. She didn’t need to dwell on them. And yet here she was locked in the past forced to confront not just her own mistakes but those of her grandmothers.

Where was the fairness in that?

Fairs are for pigs and horses, DeeDee reminded herself of one of Mom‘s old saying. Life isn’t fair. And she had this handsome man standing in front of her to prove it. Maybe she could hire him to take her to São Paulo.

DeeDee tightened her fingers on her bag strap, grateful Mom had sent the bag and yet, still angry she’d been sent here in the first place. “I have some gold coins.” She didn’t even know how much they were worth in today’s dollars, let alone in the 1940s.

Liam rested against the bar and crossed one ankle over the other. “Keep your gold, Delia. I am happy to help a friend in need.”

DeeDee leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “What I really need right now is a restroom.”

Liam chuckled and pulled away from the bar. “I don’t think you’ll like it, but I can show you where you can find such a thing. But I suspect you’d rather find a room. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

DeeDee started after Liam, but as she did, a man slinging a guitar bumped into her. Her bag shifted off her shoulder and landed on the floor beside her. A few things slid out.

As Liam bent to help her scoop up her things, they knocked heads.

“Ow, sorry,” Liam said.

For a moment, DeeDee saw stars. She rubbed her forehead, wincing and massaging the tender spot. “You have a hard head.”

“So I’ve been told.” Liam gathered up her belongings, but he briefly froze when he spotted the map.

Despite the pain, DeeDee noted his fleeting interest.

Liam fiddled with the clasp on her bag, secured it closed, and handed it to her. “You need to keep that safe. There are a lot of…” he sought for a word, “desperados around here.”

Was he talking about her bag in general, or the map in particular?

#LIAM

That night, Liam scouted out Bryce in the cantina. Once he located his friend lounging at a card table, his face screwed with concentration, Liam beelined across the room. Liam and Bryce had met in The Great War in a hospital. They’d forged an unlikely friendship during their long confinement.

 After several toe-tapping minutes, the longest poker game known to man ended.

Liam jerked his head to the open doors. “I need to speak to you. Let’s take our drinks outside.”

Liam pushed through the crowded bar, ignoring the senoritas’ flirty gazes and full, pouty lips. He breathed easier in the cool night air. Music floated through the cantina windows. An owl winged overhead, and cicadids songs played like maracas. Liam turned down an alley and double checked to make sure they were alone. “She has a map.”

Liam trusted Bryce the way some trusted their brothers. Liam didn’t have a brother. And thanks to Victor, he didn’t have a mother or a sister, either.

Bryce folded his arms in a protective gesture over his heart. “I assume this is about Delia.”

“You saw her, too?”

“I did, but…she looked straight through me as if I wasn’t there.” Bryce drew a line in the dirt with his toe. “I’ll admit, her blatant disregard was hard on my ego.”

“She’s claiming amnesia.”

Bryce cocked an eyebrow. “Do you believe her?”

Liam’s laugh sounded bitter even in his own ears. “Would you? Wait. None of that matters. What matters is she has a map.”

“A map?” Bryce echoed. “To—”

Liam nodded before Bryce could ask the question. Even out here in the dark night, they had to be careful.

Bryce softly swore. “How did she get that? I thought the only one was lost in Donegal’s fire.”

Liam stared at the dark jungle edging the town, wishing he could find answers in the shadows. Although Liam hadn’t seen Victor or any of his men since the attack in Osorno, vigilance paid. The miles between there and here couldn’t protect him. Any one lingering in the cantina could be in Victor’s employ. Liam shivered, despite the warm night air.

“Is she following you?” Bryce’s tone carried a barely masked trace of hurt.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Liam said. “She surprised me as much as she surprised you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“She likes to keep you on your toes.” Bryce sucked in a deep breath. “You know if Victor find out she has a map she’ll be a mark. You have to warn her.”

Liam, relieved the conversation had finally turned in the direction he’d been waiting for, said, “I was hoping you’d volunteer for that.”

Bryce splayed his hand across this chest, letting Liam know he wanted to say something. But after a moment’s hesitation, Bryce nodded, accepting Liam was right. “Yeah, you should probably stay away from her.”

This was what was best for Delia, but he also knew Bryce’s intentions weren’t entirely altruistic. Bryce had been in love with Delia for years, even when Liam and Delia have been together. But Delia, ever oblivious, hadn’t picked up on Bryce’s overtures. Of course, Bryce never confided his feelings about Delia. Why would he when Delia had been, for a brief moment, completely smitten with Liam?

But then Ma and Tessie had died and Liam had to return to the ranchero. Liam had to believe Delia wasn’t completely heartless, but her lack of compassion and understanding had shocked him.

Bryce was speaking. Liam, who had zoned out, zeroed back into the conversation. He didn’t have the luxury of giving into his emotions.

“What would you do with it if you found it?” Bryce asked. “I know, for you, it stopped being about the treasure a long time ago.” Bryce lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure at this point it’s not just that revenge?”

This thought had concerned Liam, as well. The last thing he wanted was a Count of Monte Cristo complex. “It’s not so much what would I do with the treasure. It’s about what I don’t want Victor to do with it. He’s powerful enough, as it is.”

“I get that,” Bryce replied. “Who knows who he has in his pocket already? What has Delia gotten herself into?”

“She knows what he’s capable of…what he did to Ma and Tessie. To make matters worse, she’s not being very careful. I’m probably not the only one who saw the map in her bag.”

“Where is she now?”

“I got a room at Lottie’s.”

Bryce smirked.

“Two rooms.” Although they were adjoining.

“Did you make sure the doors have sturdy locks?”

#

DeeDee took in the bed with an iron headboard. It dominated the cramped space. A wooden dresser topped with a silvery mirror occupied one wall. A rocking chair stood in the corner. One shuttered window interrupted the unadorned plaster walls.

Sighing, DeeDee ran her tongue over her teeth and missed her toothbrush. Earlier, she’d found the communal restroom at the end of the hall. She sank onto the bed, and it groaned beneath her weight. She decided to ignore its complaints and pulled out the map.

She’d noticed the way Liam’s eyes had lit with surprise and eagerness when he seen it. He must know about the legend. But the real question was, what did he think that she knew? Maybe she should just give it to him…In exchange for a trip to São Paulo?

Of course, if it had been his Jeep she’d seen smashed, he didn’t have any more transportation than she did. And it wasn’t as if in this 1940s era she could just rent a car. She wasn’t even sure if women could even rent cars back then…er…now…After all, women weren’t even allowed to have credit cards until the 1970’s. Probably, most women didn’t even know how to drive in the forties.

After stripping off her clothes and hanging her one nightie over the chair propped in the corner, she flopped back against the pillows. The linens smelled of bleach and something she couldn’t recognize.

The gleam in Liam’s eyes had told her the map had value. Just because she didn’t believe in the Lost City of Caesars didn’t believe there weren’t others who did. Maybe even others who would kill for it. Thinking of the gunmen who had fired at her and Liam, she shivered and snuggled deeper into the covers. To be safe, she tucked the map into her pillowcase. Then, on a whim, she padded across the room and pushed the dresser against the door.

Feeling only slightly better, she jumped back in bed. Again, it complained. In fact, the night rang with unfamiliar noises—singing insects, chattering birds, the cheerful sound of the busy cantina. Even though the moon edged close to the zenith, no one, it seemed, was ready for sleep. Still, as DeeDee nestled into the pillows, she couldn’t help wondering if, maybe, when she woke she’d find herself tucked into her own bed.

She’d always had a good imagination. Her concepts and designs had helped her dress shop flourish. At the Fashion Institute, Margo Kilter, the leading designer, had called her gowns “ingenious and inspiring.” Back then, DeeDee had been pleased, but also a little embarrassed. Sure, looking one’s best was important, and a lovely dress could elevate a mood, secure a job, lure a man—not that she thought it should—but inspire?

No, inspiration belonged to sermons, maybe a great commencement speech, and life-altering conversations. Not dresses. Still, she loved being a designer and a seamstress. Maybe she could do that here? The gold coins Mom had provided couldn’t last forever. She’d have to earn her way home, somehow.

When I wake up, I’ll be home, DeeDee promised herself. She fell asleep dreaming of Connecticut snow.

Hours later, after the music from the cantina below had faded into the night, DeeDee heard another noise. One outside her window.

She’d locked the door and barricaded it with the dresser, but she hadn’t even checked the lock on the window. In fact, because of the heat, she’d left it open. Should she open the shutters?

As silently as she could, DeeDee slid from the bed. Despite the steamy and warm air outside of the sheets, DeeDee shivered. She slipped her nightie back on. Her gaze darted around the room and finally landed on her bag. She snatched it up and positioned herself beside the window.

When the shutter creaked open and a man stuck his leg through, DeeDee swung her bag and hit him in the face. He scrambled backward, and DeeDee ran across the room, grabbed hold of the rocking chair, and charged.

The man, teetering on the window sill, fell backward. DeeDee watched him sail to the ground below. Would a fall from a second story window kill him?

The door opened and the dresser screeched across the floor. So much for locks.

Liam strode into the room, his eyes wild.

DeeDee stared at him. “I thought I killed you.” Relief that he was still alive and that he hadn’t been the one to break into her room—although, that was exactly what he’d just done—sang through her.

“Not me.” He reached her side in two long strides. Peering over the edge, he watched the man scramble to his feet and hobble away.

DeeDee placed her hand on her heart to slow its beating. “Who is that?”

“You don’t know?”

She shook her head. It felt light and unsubstantial. Was that due to adrenaline, lack of sleep, the Witching Well water, or the fact that Liam stood beside her in the moonlight with an unbuttoned shirt barely covering his muscly chest?

Stop it, she told herself. For all you know, he’s your grandfather.

“Neither do I,” Liam said, “but I have a guess who might have hired him.”

“How do I know it wasn’t you who hired him?”

“You don’t,” he said in a hard voice.

DeeDee thought about going after her intruder, after all, he was hurt, she could probably catch up with him and demand some answers. If he spoke English.

 “Do you think he was interested in my map?” DeeDee stepped away from the window and stood behind the chair. She jabbed her finger in the air between her and his chest. “You seemed interested in my map.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t deny it.

She lowered her voice. “How about you take me to São Paulo, and in exchange, I’ll give you the map.”

“I don’t even know if it’s authentic.”

“Neither do I. That’s a risk you can take. Or not.”

His gaze left her face and settled on her flat chest. She read the bafflement in his expression, but she decided not to comment on it. This wasn’t really the time to discuss her double mastectomy. She hugged herself and jutted out her chin.

“I don’t trust you,” he said.

“Nor I, you.”

“But I’ve never given you reason to distrust me.”

“And if I’ve ever given you such a reason, you can rest assured, I don’t remember it.”

“That’s hardly a comforting argument.”

“Life doesn’t come with guarantees. Will you take me to São Paulo or not?”

“I could hire someone to take you.”

“No, thank you. It’s you, or no one.”

“Why?”

“Because you speak English, for one thing. And, for another, and the most pressing, if I give you the map, you have no incentive to make sure I get to São Paulo safely.”

He blanched. “Do you really think I would leave you stranded here on your own?”

“I don’t know you, remember?”

“So, you say.”

DeeDee stamped her foot. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I have no recollection of our ever meeting before.”

He studied her face before his gaze slipping back to her flat chest. She knew he wanted to ask, but she let him wonder. She had more questions of her own. “Where’s Claudette?”

“Claudette?” he echoed.

“You remember your niece?”

Her legs gave out and she sank onto the bed. “Niece? I thought De—” she caught herself, “I’m an only child. How can I have a niece?”

He grinned. “Good question. I always wondered that myself.”

DeeDee sucked in a deep breath. “Well, where is she?”

“She’s attending school in New York.”

“Are you her father?”

“No!” Her question appeared to stun him. “When I met…you…Claudette was already at boarding school.” His shoulders braced and she wondered if he’d come to a decision. Without a word, he paced to the window and slammed it shut. Secured the shutters.

DeeDee longed to whistle in relief, but she didn’t. Nor did she stop and analyze her confusion. She couldn’t be attracted to Liam—even if he wasn’t her grandfather, he was still years younger—or older? Than her. Besides, no matter who was using what calendar, he was a contemporary of her grandmother. He didn’t belong in the twenty-first century—where DeeDee longed to return.

“If you hear anything, just call,” he said. “I’m right next door. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”