“Natal, Rio Grande do Norte—it’s a very beautiful area.”
He lowered his head for a minute. Of course. He’d seen the area on his map of the country. He hadn’t been there yet. But Natal. That was perfect. While he laid low, he could dream of the woman who had captured his heart and his imagination. He could enjoy the place that bore her name—and conjure a way to win her from Tio Amato. Even if the venture was doomed.
No. He could do it. He knew that he could—convince her she needed to be free of her fears—and she’d then be a truly free spirit who would come with him.
“You like it there?” he asked.
“I love it there. Beautiful beaches. I mean, it’s Brazil. Beautiful beaches are everywhere. But I can promise you, it’s nice, even more laid-back than it can be here. The people are very bohemian, very artsy. And friendly—natives and tourists.”
He leaned closer to the window. “Where should I get the train?”
“I’ve convinced you?”
“Yes, sounds great.”
“Well, there are three stations.”
River’s brow furrowed. “Not a lot of tourists—not where people would usually go,” he said. “I like the smaller, local stations or stops.”
“Go to the little station right on the outskirts of the city; the train makes a brief stop there. Don’t take the train out of Méier station—not if you want to avoid a mass of preppy types. There will be throngs of tourists and suit wearers.”
He lowered his eyes.
Yes, let me avoid the suits, he thought.
She produced a map. “You can slip on here at nine. Locals take the train here. It’s very charming.”
“Thank you,” River told her. “How much—and when?”
“I’ll sell you a ticket that you can use any time in the next twenty-four hours. Will that work? And I’ll show you on the schedule where you should get on.”
“When is the next?”
“Not until evening, I’m afraid. It is a ‘night-owl’ train and it will be there at five tomorrow. It seems like you’re in a hurry, but if you miss the train you’ll have all day tomorrow to pick up another. It leaves at eight; you must be on it.”
River dug in his backpack for the money to buy the ticket. He paid her and she smiled.
“Obrigado to you, sir!” she said.
He left her and looked at one of the clocks atop the fa?ade of an old building.
He had hours to kill even to take the first train.
Walking in the direction of the station the American girl had suggested, he sought out another coffee shop. It was in an alley shaded from the sun. If he sat in the back, he wouldn’t be noticed. And there was a large clock on the newer building across the street—nowhere near as pretty as the old one, but it seemed to tell time correctly. He could watch it while he waited and not miss his train.
He bought more coffee—Theo had managed to snag most of his espresso anyway and he had a long time to stay up. He hadn’t slept well; his sleep had been plagued by dreams.
Rio, he thought, had always been a dream for him.
For a moment, he paused, hearing the child’s laughter in his mind again. Then it faded, as sweetly as the last savoring of a sugar drop on the tongue.
He gave himself another shake, opened his backpack, and took out his sketchbook.
He was secluded; he felt safe.
He began to sketch, not knowing his intent. Most of the time, he didn’t.
Sometimes, he did scenery. And he loved to draw people. Beluga had always made a good subject. And Maria too.
No one had been as easy to draw as Natal. No drawing had ever come out as beautifully as the one he had done of Natal.
But he didn’t draw her then. His pencil moved rapidly over the paper. He began to draw a scene of upheaval and horror. There were servicemen in it—cold, dusty mountains in the background. The ground was exploding again, men flying in the air as if they’d been tossed as easily as basketballs.
A chill seemed to have settled over him as he drew. Then, as suddenly as he’d begun, he stopped. He studied what he had created. It was a war scene—one he knew too well. Combat had often been hand to hand; they went into villages where insurgents had dug in. And when they did …
There were grenades exploding, buried mines bursting into flames, men …
Dying.
But, he had survived. And come home …
Home was a blur; he’d had to get out.
He’d come to Brazil.
River blinked, staring at the page. He’d put things in there that didn’t belong there.
Walking into the chaos was a man in a business suit. A business suit with a hat.
He was the man coming for River. The clock across the street bonged. Once, twice … it kept going. It was 7:00 P.M.
He couldn’t believe so much time had passed. He looked around—even the waitstaff at the café had changed over. And if he didn’t move, he’d miss the train.
He got up, stowed his sketchpad, and hurried down the street.
Rio tended to be a late-night city, and with Carnaval on the way, dusk seemed to arouse the city as if it truly woke up and found life when darkness came.
There were people everywhere, thronging the streets. As each day brought them closer to Mardi Gras, with Ash Wednesday to follow, people seemed to be in a greater fever to party as wildly as they might.
There were jugglers out on the street, musicians too many to count, dancers, clowns, all vying for a piece of the action—and attention.
Music blared from every nightclub.
River took in the sights and sounds as he hurried toward the station as best he could through the crowds. Everywhere, he looked for the man in the blue suit.
But when he glanced into one club that he was passing, he paused. His heart seemed to stand still before speeding into double-time.
He didn’t see the man in the blue suit.
He saw Natal.
CHAPTER 15
She wore a colorful crop top with a brilliant red skirt that swirled and waved about her perfect legs as she moved to the music of a samba. Her dark hair traced her skirt’s movements. Others in the room had stepped back.
All to watch her.
She moved with such joy. With so much life. She seemed to epitomize all that was right and wonderful and vibrant in Rio.
For a minute, he just stared, enchanted.
And then, hardly aware of what he was doing, he entered the club.
Natal spun, her dark hair flying and draping around her like a velvet cape.
And she saw him.
The smile she gave him seemed to radiate throughout his entire body. He felt as if that smile gave him light—and life.
Swaying to the music in the most sensual walk he’d ever seen, she came right up to him, slipping her arms around him and toying with his hair.
“Can you dance, drifter man?” she teased. “Can you move—like Brazil, like Rio?”
He should have felt awkward. He could barely find his tongue—a way to speak. But if he didn’t, he feared she would go away.
“I can do anything,” he said, “when I’m with you.”
He knew, at the back of his mind, that he needed to get to the train station.
He knew he should leave.