Natal had said that she’d find him by the statue; the area, of course, was massive. He decided that he’d head there like any tourist the following day, but for the night, he’d find a stretch of plateau near the mountain—he could see the statue and the stars that way.
When he stopped for the night, he thought that he was surely on a farmer’s land. But he’d learned that day—really learned, through Natal—that the people in the outskirts of the bustling city were nice. They were friendly. They wanted to know others.
“What do you say, Convict?” he asked the dog. “Have we found the right bed?”
Convict barked and wagged his tail.
River made a pillow out of his backpack and lay down on soft grass and earth.
Convict quickly curled up beside him. The warmth of the dog next to him was nice.
For a while, he stared up at the statue. Then he looked at the stars, noting the Big Dipper for Convict.
How far did Natal’s love of adventure extend? There was so much of the country he hadn’t seen. Maybe they could go off together on a long excursion through the countryside; they’d tour the mountains and the valleys. They’d find out about native tribes. Every day would be …
“I really just met her, Convict,” he told the dog. “But somehow, I feel like I’ve known her for years. And when we wake up—well, the two of you will become great friends.”
As he dozed, he began to imagine the map in his bag and made a mental note to check out the train stations and schedules. He didn’t want to fly anywhere—flying, they wouldn’t see the country. He would have to convince her that a free spirit would come with him. He didn’t have to hurry; there were still so many places they could go together here—so many things to do. He thought about the Jardim Botanico—exquisite! They could imagine what it had been like when Jo?o VI had created the gardens, determined to have cinnamon and spices and fruit from around the world at his table when he chose—not just when the ships came in. They could make up stories about him and his son, who had opened the magnificent gardens to the public. They could sip espressos at the D.R.I. Café by the pool, walk by magnificent fountains and falls. Maybe, when she trusted him more, he could introduce her to Theo—and they could all go ziplining together through the rich canopy of the rainforest trees.
And then they would travel on.
With dreams so sweet, he slept, and slept deeply.
*
When he awoke, he did so slowly. For a moment, he thought he heard laughter—a child’s laughter.
And he smelled …
Pancakes. Pancakes and maple syrup.
He hadn’t had pancakes and maple syrup in Brazil … he was in Brazil. And yet the aroma of the food was so real …
He was somewhere else—somewhere far away. He could hear—as if from a distance—the tinkling sound of a woman’s voice.
And the laughter.
The laughter of a child. It was delighted laughter, the kind only a child could ever create. It tore and tugged at his mind with a sweet sense of nostalgia …
Then Convict barked—a bark that was loud and anxious. Instantly snapping out of the memory, or dream, or whatever sweet illusion had filled his mind, River was wide awake and leaping to his feet, ready to face whatever danger might lurk.
But it was just a farmer—chiding him for sleeping, River imagined, on his property.
The man wasn’t really angry; he shook his head more from confusion. River figured that the farmer just couldn’t understand why people would sleep in the open.
River’s Portuguese wasn’t anywhere near good enough to begin to explain.
Convict barked again. River calmed the dog and apologized in his broken Portuguese.
The farmer looked at Convict, and River assured him that the dog was a good dog. After another glance at River, the farmer came forward and petted Convict.
River was careful when he reached into his backpack—it was never a good idea to let anyone see just how much money was in it—and handed the man a few bills.
The man looked at the money in surprise. River knew that he hadn’t had to offer the money. But after his conversation with Theo the other day, he thought that the few dollars might be something important to the man.
Maybe they were. The farmer smiled and nodded and tipped his sun hat to River.
River grinned and thanked him. He turned, calling to Convict, and made his way to the road.
He found a farmer’s market where vendors were selling meat pies and bought some for himself and for Convict. The dog was grateful—and well-mannered. But as River considered the day, he stroked Convict and said, “I think I’ll take you to Maria for the day—there just might be a few places they won’t let me take you. Sorry, you’ll have to meet Natal another time. Maybe Maria will give you a bath—you could use one, you know.”
Convict looked at him, gave him a strange, friendly howl, and thumped his tail.
Maria accepted a few dollars for keeping and bathing the dog, though, at first, she protested. He didn’t understand her Portuguese—she could speak so quickly!—but it seemed that Maria was saying that she had fallen in love with Convict too, and didn’t need to be paid to take care of an animal she loved.
He had to remind her that she was doing him a favor that meant a great deal to him, and that she needed money for soap for the dirty dog and for food—and for some trinket for herself.
She was a widow, he knew. Beluga didn’t let her want for the things she needed in life, but she could always use a little extra for something special that she simply wanted rather than needed.
He gave her his most winning smile, and she finally accepted the money.
“I work, I make money, you know.” She paused. “You asked me if I am happy. I forgot to mention—my children who survived come and see me. They work in Brasília, but Rio is their home, and they are good children. I am grateful I have them still, though I mourn those I lost. But every life is precious, yes? And I still have my two. A girl and a boy.”
“I’m sure you have wonderful children, Maria. They have you for a mother!” He winked, and she rolled her eyes in response. “And you work very hard. To do me another favor, you must take this money. Perhaps you should even use it for something fun or pretty. Perhaps for a hair comb or a bracelet—or a scarf, maybe. Or a scanty costume for Carnaval.”
“A scanty costume, eh?”
“You’d be beautiful.”
“Once!” she said softly. “Once, yes. Now—maybe a hair comb.”
“Maria, you are truly beautiful now,” he assured her.
She laughed briskly and waved a hand in the air. “Go and see Beluga.”
But River was eager to slip away to meet Natal. He told Maria he’d be back soon for Convict. Then he hopped a bus and headed into the city.
And from the city, he looked up at the statue.
Today. Today, he would see her again.
And perhaps, come closer.
But, all he had to do was see her …
And life was suddenly good.
CHAPTER 9
River stood on a busy street in the city, listening to the sights and sounds of crawling traffic, motorbikes, motorcycles, music leaking from a dozen venues, horns, and shouts. So many people—how would he find her?
As Carnaval neared, it seemed that the population of Rio had doubled and then tripled.