Girl In The Water Part 12

Back then, she hadn't believed him. What you were used to, no matter how bad, always seemed the safest. Because a new thing, an unknown thing, could be even worse. Like a monkey jumping from a snake in a tree and landing in the open razor-toothed mouth of a caiman.

But Ian had been tireless in convincing her. He'd woven a coc.o.o.n around her with his words and protection, months of teaching and coaxing. And when Dani emerged at last, he'd sent her off to college so she could spread her wings.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Bobby flashed a dorky grin. "I promise not to stretch it into copper wire."

Daniela rolled her eyes and smiled.

Crystal groaned. "G.o.d, you're hopeless, Bobby. Friendly advice. You ever find yourself in a courtroom, no jokes. The judge will hold you in contempt."

"I have an excellent sense of humor."

"Who told you that? Your cat?"

As the two bickered, they reached Daniela's clunker of a car.

She quickly slipped behind the wheel so Bobby wouldn't try to change her mind about lunch. "See you guys around."

She could have gone out with him; she had little else to do this afternoon. He was attractive. Kind. Funny.

She'd gone out with other boys, guys from her cla.s.ses. She'd even slept with two. The first one because she hadn't fully understood yet that she could say no when somebody pushed. The second because she chose to, because she'd wanted to know if it felt different when it was chosen.

It hadn't.

She barely reached the entrance of the parking lot before her phone pinged. She glanced at it. Text from Bobby.

How about lunch tomorrow?

She didn't respond. Driving and texting was stupid. She'd tell him no when she got home.

Bobby was a great guy.

But she wanted...more. And she didn't feel more with Bobby. She wasn't even entirely sure what the more was, if it even existed. She'd seen love in movies, but movies made up a lot of things.

All she knew was that at her core coiled a longing, almost like hunger, a wistful feeling, an expectation of something, or the promise of it.

But s.e.x just didn't really work for her. She wasn't sure she'd ever want a man-not the same way that Crystal talked about her dates. Maybe that part of her was irrevocably broken. Or taken away as punishment for all that she'd done.

She headed toward the Beltway. The last couple of months in school had been h.e.l.l, trying to complete all the requirements so she could graduate. She antic.i.p.ated spending the summer with Ian after he watched her walk across the stage in her cap and gown.

Ian was her best friend.

He still had a strong streak of protectiveness toward her. He also made sure she kept up with the self-defense lessons so she could take care of herself.

She liked his dry humor, that he got her and she never had to explain herself to him. She liked that he'd seen where she'd come from and yet her past never for a second mattered to him.

She liked the gruffness at his core, and even his somber moods, a contrast to the happy-peppy glaze of her college friends. When kids in her cla.s.ses said anything is possible, they meant anything good. But Daniela knew that in life, bad things could happen, and Ian too understood that. Crystal also did, which was probably why she was Daniela's best friend.

She drove across town to Ian's 1900s three-story apartment building, went up to his third-floor apartment, let herself in, pa.s.sed the IKEA hall table piled high with mail. "Hey, I'm home."

No response, nothing but silence in the apartment. The living room and eat-in kitchen stood empty, and so did the two bedrooms. She could see the whole place from the entry; all the doors stood open.

Maybe Ian had to go into work.

She texted Bobby back with a quick sorry, then dropped her bag, adding it to the general mess. Over the past week, she'd stuffed her college paraphernalia in every corner of the place, a beanbag here, an extra computer desk there, then all her potted plants-she'd found she couldn't live without being surrounded by green. But at least the place looked lived-in. When she'd moved out every September, the apartment went back to looking empty and lonely. And still Ian wouldn't budge about letting her stay.

He'd insisted on the dorms. He wanted her to have all the normal experiences any twenty-something in college would have. He wanted her to date, join clubs, go to parties, eat cold pizza with friends at three in the morning.

She dropped her paperwork in her room, then padded out into the kitchen. She'd learned American dishes, soups and stews, and spaghetti, knew how to flip a burger. But most of the time, she made something lighter, something with coconuts or plantains, something with fresh fish. She'd found a grocery store that sold ca.s.sava and sugarcane. The lighter food was better for Ian's stomach. G.o.d knew, he ate enough greasy takeout when she wasn't here.

A knock on the door, and Iris, Ian's mother, popped in, a jeans-and-T-shirt girl like Daniela. Her only nod to city life was exchanging her rubber boots for sneakers. She'd moved to DC a year ago. Connecticut winters had become too much for her. And she was getting too old for farming, so she retired.

"Daniela! I'm so glad you're here." Iris always gave a long, warm hug. Her hair was short and magenta this week-she liked experimenting now that she didn't have to worry about scaring the cows. She had a face like sunshine. Her smile never dimmed. Ian's occasional dark moods were completely absent from her.

Sometimes Daniela wondered if they were really related.

She hugged the woman back. Ian and Iris were her family. "Just in time for lunch."

Iris sniffed the air. "Are you sure I can't talk you into coming to live with me? That smells like heaven. But I can't stay." She gave a tragic sigh. "I only stopped by because I left my knitting here the other day, and I have a knitting club meeting tonight."

She looked around. "I see my reprobate son isn't home yet. I texted him that I was coming over. He texted back that the shop called that his car was inspected. He went to pick it up. I thought he'd be here by now."

She grabbed her purple knitting bag from beside the couch. "I'm keeping my eye on the weather for your graduation party. I can't wait. It'll be the first big party at my place. I'm praying hard that we won't have any rain so I can do barbecue on the balcony." Her eyes filled with moisture, but she never lost the smile. "I'm so proud of you, I could burst."

That was Iris. She radiated love like the sun radiated heat.

"Any news in the romance department?" she asked.

Daniela thought of Bobby and shook her head.

"I'm telling you what I told my son," Iris said. "I refuse to die without grandchildren. I'm prepared to live to a hundred."

She hugged and kissed Daniela again before she left, with a reminder that the following week they had a double shift at the activity center for homeless children. They did that together at least once a week, their girl time.

After Iris left, Daniela went back to cooking. Lunch was almost ready when Ian walked in.

"Hey." He stopped inside the door, filling the doorframe. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt that had been washed a hundred times and softly draped over his muscles. "I thought you'd be at the school today."

Ian wasn't college-boy handsome, but he did have a certain harsh, hard-edged masculine beauty that came partially from his well-built physique and partially from his eyes that were dark but not black, more the color of strong coffee, the color of the Rio Negro and the Icana.

As she looked at Ian in the doorway, a peacefulness fell over Daniela, a floating kind of feeling as if she was in the river, or that bliss of swinging in a hammock when rain pitter-pattered outside and all was well with the world.

She had the sudden urge to walk into his arms, lay her head on his chest. She blinked the odd thought away.

"I didn't have as much to do as I thought I would," she said.

He sniffed the air as he moved forward, scoping out the stove. "That smells good. Let me take a shower first."

And as he pa.s.sed by her, she caught a faint trace of perfume.

Nicole.

Daniela hadn't met her, but she knew of her. Nicole was Ian's ex-neighbor from his previous apartment. They weren't going out, but they hooked up from time to time.

An achy soreness spread through Daniela's limbs; her stomach cramped. She'd been bitten by a poisonous bug once when she'd been a child. She'd known it at once, feeling just like this, like she was about to be deathly sick.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Ian called from his bedroom. "Flying to Jordan. Just got a case a.s.signed. Missing American tourist."

After they'd come to the US from Brazil, General Roberts, someone Ian used to know in the army, offered him a job at a new DOD department the retired general had put together. Civilian Personnel Recovery Unit. They found and rescued US civilians who disappeared abroad.

He popped his head back out the door. "I'm going to miss your graduation. I'm really sorry."

He looked sorry. Serious. Concerned for her feelings.

She turned back to the stove and said, "No big deal," over her shoulder.

"It is. And I want to be here. But there's no one else available to go to Jordan."

And how could she ask him to stay? He'd saved her. Now he was saving others. Daniela, better than anyone, understood what that meant.

She appreciated and admired what he did. She wanted to do the same thing with her life: help people. But...

Ian gone. Maybe for the whole summer.

She gripped the bamboo spoon a little harder. She didn't ask when he'd be back. He wouldn't know, couldn't predict whether this'd be a hard case or an easy case.

She stirred the food and didn't understand why she felt like crying. She touched her free hand to the middle of her chest, pressed her palm against the pressure building inside. The air felt too thick inside her lungs, like at the beginning of the rainy season, before the storms descended to shake the world.

Carmen "I can't wait to be back in Brazil." Carmen Heyerdahl held her six-month-old daughter, Lila, on her lap as the plane flew over endless green.

She kissed the little girl's head. So much for expert medical opinions. Against all odds, Carmen was a mother.

Her happiness was a nearly tangible bubble around her, filled with that sweet, irresistible baby smell.

"Let's hope we won't get kicked out this time." Phil grinned at her, then winked at Lila. "You might as well know, my love. Your mother is a troublemaker."

Carmen cleared her throat and patted Lila's chubby little leg. "There were extenuating circ.u.mstances. When you grow older, you'll understand."

Four years before, they had busted a house of prost.i.tution and saved two dozen girls. The local powers that be, however, had not appreciated their efforts, so they'd been asked to leave.

They'd gone to Africa, only returning to the States when, out of the blue, Carmen had gotten pregnant. Two sets of overeager grandparents had demanded the relocation back to the States and wouldn't take no for an answer.

Carmen looked out the plane's window, over the green ocean of the Amazon rain forest. "I want Lila to grow up traveling like this. I want her to know the world. I want her to know what's at stake."

They were going to Manaus on a volunteer vacation-a lovely concept of people visiting distant places that needed help, donating some time working while they were there. A good way to do some good while traveling inexpensively, since housing and food was usually provided at a reasonable cost.

Phil pulled a blue plastic fish from the diaper bag and handed it to Lila, who immediately stuffed one fat fin into her mouth. "She is going to love this trip."

Phil's book on the rubber soldiers had been a moderate hit, possibly going on to bigger fame now that some Brazilian lumber baron, Raul Morais, had decided to finance a fictionalized Hollywood movie based on the story.

Carmen smiled, content, relaxed, happier than she'd ever been. "If this goes well with See-Love-Aid, if it looks like we can handle things with a baby in tow, maybe we can come back full-time."

She'd missed the lushness of Brazil. Brazil was in her blood. They wouldn't have to go back to the same little town that had kicked them out. Manaus was a big city. If they liked it, they might come back to Manaus permanently.

Lila tossed her plastic fish, and when Phil s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of the air, the baby giggled, kicking her little feet as if she were riding an imaginary bicycle.

Phil handed the toy back to her, then flashed a handsome, confident smile at Carmen. "We'll barely be here for any time at all. I don't see what could go wrong in two weeks."

Eduardo As Rio pulsed with crowds of tourists and noisy traffic rushed on in the summer heat outside, Eduardo Morais pumped into his wife, the frigid b.i.t.c.h, in their equally frigid, air-conditioned apartment. If she still wasn't pregnant in another six months, he was going to get rid of her and try another. He'd been plowing her for close to six years already. For nothing.

The boring, docile daughter of a business a.s.sociate, she'd been handpicked by Eduardo's father, Raul Morais. Eduardo had always done his duty by her, but he had his fun with his mistresses.

His father-fully recovered from the stroke four years ago-was forever on his case about a grandson. An heir. The old man required one male child from each of his sons. He didn't have any specific instructions on female children.

Unfortunately, neither Eduardo nor his older brother Marcos had been able to deliver the desired grandson yet. Marcos had two daughters. Eduardo had nothing to show for his efforts.

His father was almost as frustrated about the lack of grandsons as about Eduardo's and Marcos's lack of ability to produce money with honest work. Because, merda, even though the old man had broken every law to build his empire, he expected his sons to be above reproach and pillars of the community.

They were never going to be that, but they had come up with the money! Eduardo pounded away, fury propelling him as he thought of the past four years, he and his brother trying to find what had been stolen from them.

He slammed into his wife and tuned out her whimpering.

He had taken care of the thief. But the thief had had accomplices. If Eduardo ever laid hands on the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds...

As he imagined, in great detail, what he would do, the blood that would flow, he came in a blinding rush.

He collapsed on top of his relieved wife, caught his breath, rolled off. "Get dressed."

She scampered away.

They were expected at his father's estate. Raul Morais was giving a dinner to honor one politician or another. Morais Timber held inconceivably large swaths of rain forest. Raul Morais often needed an eas.e.m.e.nt or a way to slip around an annoying environmental protection act. Political friendships were carefully cultivated.

Eduardo cleaned up and put on his tuxedo. As he headed out to the elevators with his wife, he spared her only a cursory glance. She'd come from money and looked it. Her dress was a peach-color froth of silk, probably a gift from her sister, who was married to Hugo Romero, who owned a major international luxury boutique chain.

Down by the curb, a car waited for them. Eduardo's father had sent the chauffeured limousine that efficiently whisked them straight to Jardim Botnico, an upscale neighborhood in the south zone.

Raul Morais could easily afford a residence in nearby Leblon, the most expensive neighborhood in South America, but he didn't want to live in a skysc.r.a.per, not even if it came with a three-story penthouse that had its own rooftop pool and garden.

Not that the house in Jardim Botanico lacked anything. At fifteen thousand square feet-not including staff quarters-it held every imaginable luxury, including a spa with a sauna and live-in ma.s.seuse. The grounds featured an elaborate pool, an equally impressive pond with a twenty-foot waterfall, and a small forest of palm trees.

By the time Eduardo and his wife arrived at the residence, the party was in full swing, the guest list a testament to Raul Morais's wealth. The politicians came to angle for campaign contributions. The business owners came for access to the politicians. The singers and actors had been invited to lend an extra layer of glamour to the evening, and eagerly accepted. Movies needed investors. Musicians too always needed backers. The strands of connections wove through the crowd, creating the fabric of money.

Eduardo set his wife loose and went to find the old hyena. Must greet him first. The king would want his due. And he always got what he wanted.

Raul Morais stood near the elaborate parrot enclosure, surrounded by politicians who courted his favor. The stroke he'd suffered four years ago had left its mark on his once-powerful body. He listed slightly to the left, and he'd grown thinner. Yet without doubt, he was the most powerful man present. His eyes were the same bottomless black, his gaze sharper than a machete.

As Eduardo joined the group, his father nodded at him. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I need a word with my son."