“I can buy you new clothing,” he said quickly.
“And you will, River,” she said, touching his face. “But it’s not clothing that I want, that I have to go back for. It’s my writing. My writing is like my life, you know. It is dreams of the things I will do, memories of the wonders that I have experienced. I can’t leave it behind. There is nothing material that I want or need, but what has been my soul … I can’t leave it, River.”
“I’ll go with you, then,” he said.
“No, you cannot.”
“I’m going to protect you. If you must have such things, I must go with you.”
“No, it’s best if you don’t. Please, River—you must stay away from Tio Amato. Let us really choose life. You can’t be my great protector in the future if you are dead over such a silly thing as a black eye.”
He stood, rigid; he didn’t want to kill Amato. He truly hated killing.
He just wanted to give the thug a good black eye in return and tell the man he was never, never to lift his hand against someone smaller and weaker again.
Maybe it was more than that. It was true that he’d had enough of killing. Of death. But he wanted to hurt the man badly. He wanted him to feel what others did when they were in his power—desperate, hurting, terrified, and powerless.
And maybe Natal knew, or understood, just what it was he felt. Maybe she was afraid that if he were somehow confronted by Tio Amato, he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself. He couldn’t prove the man was a murderer. There was no way to take him to court, to make him face legal recourse. All he had was …
Himself.
“Here’s the deal we will make,” Natal said firmly. “You will not come with me. If you follow me, I will not go with you. Do you understand?”
He looked at her. She meant it.
He nodded slowly.
She was right; if he went near Tio Amato, he would act. If he acted, he’d be killed by Tio Amato’s henchmen. If he weren’t killed, he’d be arrested, and he’d spend the rest of his life in a Brazilian jail.
He needed an army to take down Tio Amato. He was one man.
He nodded again, letting Natal know that he fully understood her reasoning. And he took her into his arms. He just held her there where they stood, and he luxuriated in the trembling gratitude he felt.
She was with him.
“Where do I meet you? When will we catch this train?” she asked.
He pulled away and held her by the shoulders, watching her anxiously. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
“I don’t intend to confront him; if I don’t confront him, he’ll not argue with me. I don’t intend to see him anyway; the staff there loves me. I’ll just slip in and slip out. You must believe in me, River. You must believe that I can manage myself. Have faith—as I am having faith in you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper at the end. “Now tell me—where do I meet you?”
He told her about the small station where they would hopefully be able to board without seeing anyone. And he told her that the train was due to depart at eight.
“I will be there,” she said firmly.
“But … you’re going now? We should get something more to eat—we’ve had nothing but a few pieces of fruit. We should spend some time—”
“No. The fruit was enough for now. We must make this all work out, River, because we will leave tonight. That is everything, my love, everything. We will get away. And then, we’ll have time together, time to enjoy good food and wine and … all good things. We’ll surf on the beaches in the north and picnic on the sands and be together—always,” she told him.
My love, she had said. He nodded. “All right.”
She stood on her toes and kissed his lips very gently and tenderly. He felt the stroke of her fingers on his arm.
“You understand?” she said.
“I do,” he confirmed.
“I will be there.”
“I believe you.”
She held his gaze. “River, it’s true. I love you.”
“And you are my dream. You are—everything,” he replied.
She kissed his lips again. It felt like the whisper of a breeze, her touch beyond sweet, a promise that the future awaited, and that it would be good.
He closed his eyes, just feeling her touch.
“I love you,” she said again, and the words were part of her kiss.
He opened his eyes.
She was gone; she had disappeared as quickly as possible when his eyes had been closed; she had feared, he was certain, that he would argue with her again.
That he would want to come with her.
And he still wanted to be with her. The injustices dealt out by Tio Amato were just so wrong. Wasn’t a man’s role in life to fight against those things that were wrong?
He turned to call after her—to tell her that they could at least go back to the city limits together.
But she was really gone, out of sight.
All he could feel was the lingering caress of her fingers stroking his arm.
She was coming with him. Natal was coming with him.
If a man couldn’t win, it didn’t make sense to carry on a fight. And yet, he felt guilty. People had held silent too often through the years. They had held silent during World War II because they had been afraid; they held silent now, afraid.
And wasn’t his role here just as …
Perhaps not bad, but not right either. He was a silent partner in guilt.
And yet …
There was also fighting sensibly. With a plan. With Natal, with her at his side, listening to him, giving him her wisdom, he would find a way to attack Tio Amato.
One in which he could win.
With that compromise wisely situated in his mind, he sat in the field and allowed himself his great happiness again.
She was coming with him. Natal was coming with him.
He stayed there on that farmer’s field watching the sky and feeling the breeze and the touch of the sun. It was setting in the western sky.
Soon enough, they’d be on the train.
When River determined to leave, he had no intention of following Natal. He just had to get back into the city.
He had a plan. He would walk at first—he was afraid of accepting a ride from a stranger who might or might not be associated with the men in the blue suits, or the police. But a friendly farmer he’d seen before—a man with acreage just past Beluga’s place—saw him walking down the dirt road and offered him a ride. He accepted it gratefully.
He thought about Beluga. Beluga had been a good friend. But River wasn’t leaving here forever. He would see his friend again.
He regretted leaving Convict. He had rescued the dog; he was responsible for him. Yet, Convict was better off where he was for now. Beluga had quickly fallen in love with him. This was best; Convict would be safe. If something were to happen to River, if he was taken down somehow by the men, Convict had a good home.
River knew that he would come back; he just didn’t know when.
He watched the familiar sights as they came into the city.
They were just inside the limits—where Tio Amato’s massive house took up a block.
“Here’s fine,” River heard himself say.
“I take you further,” the farmer offered in his broken English.