Captive Heart (19 page)

JoNell cried until there were no more tears left in her, and then she dried her eyes stiffly. She felt drained now. Her heart would hold room for nothing but a single-minded purpose. She would avoid Del Toro as much as possible and steel her heart against her love for him until her year as a wife had served his business purposes and the divorce ended this mock marriage.

That evening, JoNell said as little as possible to Del Toro when he returned from the mine. For the most part, they ate in silence. JoNell replied to his comments with short, curt answers.

After supper, he said, "There's a special tribal ceremony tonight being given in our honor. I can tell you are not in a festive mood. But it would be an insult to the village not to attend."

"Why in our honor?" she asked.

"Because we are newly married."

"You mean this phony marriage of convenience?" she said bitterly. "I think it would be a greater insult if we did attend."

"These people do not know the circumstances of our marriage," he said, his jade green eyes sparking anger. "You may never desire to come to this village again, but I intend to come back. I will not be rude to these people."

"Very well. I have no wish to be rude to them, either. I'll go for Angelita's sake," JoNell said, thinking that her friend would believe she and Del Toro had patched up their 'lover's quarrel'. She couldn't bear to disappoint someone who had been so kind to her.

They walked by torchlight to the town square. A crowd was gathering. A small man smiled broadly and directed them to the seat of honor, two large wooden chairs.

As soon as they had taken their places. JoNell heard the low pitched rumble of drums. From out of the darkness walked a small group of men playing gourds, drums of various sizes and shapes, and rattles. They began to wail in a high-pitched tone, bowed in unison, and then backed away from the spectators and sat in a semicircle in the shadow of the torchlight. Next came about a half dozen men in bright red trousers and multi-colored shirts with geometric designs emblazoned on the front and back. They wore weird headdresses of devils, birds, serpents and other animals. These were the dancers. In time to the compelling rhythms, they jogged, three jumps forward and two jumps back. They circled and changed places.

"What does that dance symbolize?" JoNell asked.

"It's a special feast dance. It is rarely performed for outsiders. They are paying you a great honor."

"It's certainly delightful. So colorful and rhythmic. Makes me want to clap my hands." JoNell began to enjoy herself and forgot for a while the bitterness she felt for the man sitting next to her.

The drums stopped abruptly. A man emerged from the night playing a lonesome one-note melody on a reed-like instrument. A small, dark woman with her hair in a tight knot on her head and dressed in a long, white gown, stepped gracefully into the foreground. After each footstep she raised on her toes, paused, her eyes downcast, and then took another step. She was followed by a young man dressed in a simple black outfit. A woman's thin, high voice began to moan a sorrowful song.

"What's this?" JoNell asked.

"It's the
yaravi
. It's a song and dance about love."

JoNell felt a wave of panic. She didn't want to sit here watching a ritual love dance while she was acutely aware of Del Toro's broad shoulder brushing against hers. But she was trapped. There was no escape for her.

The young girl in white moved slowly around the arena, tossing orchids from a basket she had picked up from the ground. The young man followed her, always just beyond arm's reach, his hands extended as if trying to catch his elusive love object. He picked up one of the flowers she had dropped, buried his face in it and appeared to be crying.

The two dancers continued their ritual until at last the young woman appeared to notice the young man and offered him an orchid. He took it and began dancing exuberantly to the beat of excited drums. The girl stood by looking demure. Then the man scooped the girl up in his arms, and carried her away into the night.

"That's how love should be," JoNell thought dismally.

"This is the
huanyo
, a song and dance for couples," said Del Toro as a new group of performers moved into the torchlight.

By now JoNell was too miserable to enjoy the show. She scarcely noticed the bright turquoise and silver dresses of the women and the black and red trousers of the men. The lively music and intricate dance were wasted on her. She had no idea when she came here tonight that the festive dances would be such compelling symbols of love and touch such a vulnerable spot in her heart.

How hypocritical she felt! Everyone in this village thought her marriage to Del Toro was genuine, and they were doing their utmost to try and please her by celebrating her wedding. But what the village thought was love binding her and Del Toro together was nothing more than a business contract.

When the dances ended, Del Toro helped JoNell from the chair and they started back to their cottage. A short distance away, JoNell spied Angelita who was being escorted by a man who JoNell assumed was Angelita's widower. The woman winked, waved and smiled. JoNell forced herself to respond with a smile. There was no point in letting Angelita know how miserable she was.

When they were back at the cottage, Del Toro told JoNell that they would be leaving the village the next afternoon. She reacted with a mixture of relief and regret. There would always be a special corner of her heart reserved for memories of this village and its simple, warm-hearted people.

"Before we leave, I have something for you," Del Toro said. He handed her an object wrapped with a large leaf.

JoNell recognized the wrapping as the type used at the marketplace. She opened the package. A gasp escaped her lips. It was the exquisite necklace she had admired the day she and Angelita had toured the market!

"I see you've been checking up on me with Angelita," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"She's the only one who could have told you I admired this necklace in the marketplace."

"Then you do like it?"

"Yes, it's beautiful. But you needn't have gone to the trouble," she said tonelessly.

The necklace was like all the flowers he had sent her—merely a gesture with no real meaning. It was his way of paying her for the role she was playing.

She said, "I don't need to be paid for my services here in the village. When I married you, I agreed to pretend our marriage was authentic. You've already paid me by buying those airplanes through my father's business. You don't have to pay me again for doing my job." The look she gave him was hard and resentful.

Del Toro's eyes smoldered with dark fires. "Well, I thought you deserved something for the overtime you've put in," he snapped ironically.

"There's not enough jewelry in all of Peru to pay me for my 'overtime' as you so crudely put it."

They exchanged looks of bitter fury. They were strangers again, cold and distant. Del Toro stalked out of the hut, slamming the door with a resounding thud.

Tears sprang to JoNell's eyes and spilled over. She looked at the silver necklace and drew it to her bosom. How she would cherish it if Del Toro had given it to her because of his love for her. She would put it on and never take it off. She would be the happiest woman who ever drew breath. But instead, the necklace began to burn her palm. She tossed it on the bed as if it had suddenly become fiery. She glared at it. It symbolized the painful situation she was in. In her emotional state, she thought the lacy filigree began to resemble a pit of serpents, writhing in a mocking reflection of her heartbreak. Suddenly she hated the necklace and she hated Del Toro for giving it to her.

JoNell had settled down at the desk in the study to draft a letter to her parents when she heard Maria, the maid, answer the front door. There was a murmur of voices. Then Maria came to the study door. "It is seňor Rafael Garcia. He asks to see you."

JoNell nibbled at her lower lip. Del Toro would be angry if she allowed Rafael to visit her—and yet, she thought rebelliously, why not? Her sagging morale needed a boost. She had been miserably depressed since the trip to the mountain village.

She nodded to Maria.

"Hello, seňor Garcia," she smiled when Maria showed him into the room.

"Seňora Del Toro. It is a pleasure to see you again." He bowed politely and kept his greeting formal for the benefit of the maid, but the adoration in his eyes brought a flush of warmth to JoNell's lonely heart.

"Maria, would you please serve us tea in here?"

"Yes, seňora."

Rafael waited until the maid had left the room. Then he took a chair close to JoNell's. His gaze lingered on her face. "JoNell, it is so good to see you. I phoned several times—"

"We spent a few days at a mining camp. We've been back for a week, though."

"I know." His dark eyes were brooding somberly. "I keep in touch with your whereabouts. I knew you had returned to the city, but I had made up my mind not to try and see you any more. It was a decision my mind made, but my heart could not keep as you see."

She smiled at him fondly. "Rafael, what am I going to do about you? You know the situation is hopeless. I've tried to make that clear to you,"

"I know," he sighed. "But again, it is my mind that listens, not my heart." He was thoughtful for a moment, his brooding eyes studying her face. "No, perhaps my mind, too, has doubts. Somehow, I just can't be convinced that you are happy with Jorge Del Toro. There is always a look of sadness in your eyes; not the radiant happiness of a new bride—"

JoNell flushed, glancing down at her fingers.

Fortunately the maid interrupted them with the tea tray. As Maria was arranging the dishes, JoNell made casual conversation. "How are you occupying your time these days, seňor Garcia?"

"Oh, I have started a new job. My cousin has a Mercedes Benz dealership. He decided with my country club membership and social contacts, I would make a good salesman. Those are the kind of people who buy expensive cars. So far my commissions have been better than I expected."

"Good for you. Congratulations!"

The maid left. Rafael munched a pastry, his eyes thoughtful and brooding again. "Yes, soon I could support a wife. Not, of course, with the wealth of a Jorge Del Toro—"

His meaning was quite clear. Again JoNell's cheeks flushed. "Rafael, it is not fair for you to have such hopes—"

"Tell me honestly how you feel about me, JoNell."

"Honestly?"

"Yes… truthfully. Do not spare my feelings."

She had to think for a moment. Her emotions had been so confused since the trip to the mountain village, she could not answer such a question easily. That she was in love with Jorge Del Toro was a painful fact she could not escape. And that her love was not returned was an equally painful fact. And in the midst of that emotional turmoil, how did she feel about Rafael Garcia? She searched her heart and gave him the most honest answer she could find. "You are a fine person, gentle, kind, considerate. I am quite fond of you, Rafael."

He brooded over her reply for a moment, then said, "At least I have that much. Is it a fondness that could grow into love some day?"