CultOfTheBlackVirgin (19 page)

Jo didn’t know if Carol’s words were innocent or loaded with innuendo. There was certainly disdain in her tone. But she was too excited, too sore, and too tired to really care.

By mid-morning, the weather had turned sultry, and when they stopped at the crumbling twelfth century church in the hamlet of
Maryinhacle Francel
, Jo was all done in. Luckily, the stone building offered a cool, damp retreat. She sat heavily on a pew to rest and let her temperature drop, admiring the gigantic bouquets of flowers someone had placed at the altar. Explosions of enormous white lilies, long-stemmed anemones, and globe-shaped pink and white peonies filled the dim room with their beautiful colors and scents. They made her think of sex in an abstract way, and of Luc. Her desire for him. A lust she hadn’t known before.

The stigmas of the lilies were so delicately erotic, she thought. They reached far out into the air, like slender erect penises, almost quivering with anticipation.
Touch me, touch me
, they seemed to say with their golden bulbous tips, beckoning flies, shirtsleeves, noses, anything at all.

One stigma oozed sticky syrup from its swollen and fissured tip. The liquid ran down its stalk suggestively. She stretched out a fingertip and lightly brushed it.

“Does that feel good?” she whispered.

Then, after a quick look to make sure no one was near, she leaned in to flick at it with her tongue. She just couldn’t help herself. It tasted sweet. She thought of her French lover, and smiled.

But she had to stop this nonsense. Forcing herself to think about something besides sex, she looked around her. It was a beautiful scene. Tiny ferns and other small plants grew inside the church in the crannies of the soft stone walls. They would make an interesting feature for one of the articles she had planned to write for her magazine.

She took a few photographs of the tiny plants, and then she subtly turned the camera on Luc, shadowed in the gloom of the nave. Just a few candid photos. To help her remember when she got home.

She sighed with a mingling of pleasure and guilt, feeling she was in her element here, in the dark wetness of the tiny church, with the innocent eroticism of the pink and white flowers. Nothing would feel better than to stretch her aching, sinful body along this cool, damp pew, and sleep until the sun went down. Then she might wake up refreshed, cleansed. Forgiven, perhaps.

But soon it was time to face the noon heat and take more of the punishment that she knew she deserved.

Back on the trail, the group passed through quaint, quiet villages surrounded by fields of red poppies. Then they began a sharp descent to the river for lunch.

Luc threw his pack down on a grassy bank beside the water and invited Jo to sit with him. Grateful for his solicitude, she clumsily lowered her exhausted body to the ground. He’d bought a generous slice of veal terrine and fresh bread for them to share. Her tongue was sore, and her heart was hammering, but she managed to enjoy the food. When it was gone he pulled out two flakey pastries, filled with custard, which were heavenly.

After she devoured hers, he asked, with a twinkle in his eye, “And how did
madame
enjoy the
millefeuille
? I went to a special shop to get it for you this morning.”

“
Mais oui, monsieur. C’est délicieux, merci
,” she replied in her halting French. “I enjoyed it very much.”

He grinned mischievously. “Most women, I’ve noticed, have a particular weakness for pastries. I like to make sure on
my
walks that women’s cravings for all things French are completely satisfied.”

He laughed at the expression on her face as she blushed and mouthed, so no one could see, “Stop it!”

“That’s very good of you,” she mumbled, as she buried her face in her pack, pretending to look for something important. She was uncomfortably aware of Iris, sitting close by, watching every move the lovers made.

“The next town,” Luc said, turning to look at Carol, who was also listening closely, “has a particularly fine
pâtisserie,
too. I’ll be sure to point it out to everyone tomorrow.”

After eating, he stretched out on the grass. Similarly, Jo lay down, a safe distance away. But her eyes wouldn’t stay shut. As always, she couldn’t stop looking at her lover. Her stomach began its now familiar fluttering as she visually caressed the long muscular body that seemed to go on forever.

She knew Luc was observing her carefully as she watched him from behind her sunglasses. He stretched his body several times, and rearranged himself, obviously teasing her. A subtle flicker of amusement lit up his face as she fidgeted and tried to get comfortable. The way things were going, she wasn’t going to get much rest.

His lower lip looked quite sore, but it was the only part of him that seemed to cause him any discomfort. While she was one big walking ache, he didn’t look stiff at all. If anything, she’d noticed he seemed to be walking with an extra spring in his step. Again, she couldn’t believe she was fortunate enough to have found a lover like this—even if it was just the one time they would be together.

Surely we wouldn’t be able to come together a second time—would we? Could life be that good to me? Oh greedy, greedy girl!

She began thinking about greed. One of the seven deadly sins.

Just before it was time to go, she forced herself through a series of stretching exercises to pull some of the pain out of her stiff muscles. Sarah had taught her some new yoga poses, and she practiced them now. But stretching hurt—she winced as she tried to work on her back and Sarah came over to warn her to be careful she didn’t hurt herself even more.

Chatting with Sarah took Jo’s mind off herself. Sarah opened up a little, explaining that she was on vacation to try to forget about her boyfriend. Jo saw that Sarah suffered from a problem completely opposite to hers. Whereas Jo enjoyed too much freedom and was quick to mess up her life in any way she wanted, Sarah was constricted by her culture’s values.

She said to Jo, “I met David at the law office where we were both articling last year. But our parents didn’t approve and we had to break up.”

Shocked, Jo blurted, “But why?” She couldn’t imagine her parents exercising such power.

“Because I’m an Indian and he’s not.”

“Even today that’s an issue?”

“Yes it is. My family is very conservative. And I think David’s family is a little prejudiced.”

“How terrible for you, Sarah. I’m so sorry,” Jo said as she grimaced in pain through a hamstring stretch. And she was. Whether a woman had freedom or not, love was never easy.

“Thank you,” Sarah said, eyes downcast. “I had to learn that my job is not really the law. My job is to find a nice Indian boy and raise a nice Indian family. Here, bend your arm over your head and lean to the left.”

“Ow!”

“You really hurt yourself. What on earth have you been doing?”

The rest of the afternoon was hot and exhausting for everyone. If Jo hadn’t been lost in a Luc reverie, she would have suffered unbearably. Watching him from behind, she just kept putting one foot in front of the other. When she could see it, her eyes focused on his red bandana, as if it were a beacon.

Just before entering St. Sozy, they stopped at a campground with a swimming pool. The water looked clear and inviting, but Jo hadn’t packed her swimsuit because of her grazed back. So she just sat at the pool’s edge with her feet dangling in the water, sipping a soda and watching the others. Almost everyone was too tired to swim, so they just floated or sat quietly submerged in the cool water.

Luc, however, was the exception. He walked confidently out of the change room, wearing swimming trunks this time, and dove into the deep end of the pool with grace. He expertly swam a dozen laps and then floated on his back. The entire time, Jo watched him carefully, appreciatively, anxiously.

When can I see him again?
Can
I see him again?

A sudden longing seized her so violently that her hands began to tremble. Tears welled in her eyes, and she had to force herself to pretend to laugh when Duncan swam up to her, splashing her gently, and teased her for not coming into the water.

She was too self-absorbed to notice she was being watched.

* * * *

Glenda and Edward exchanged surprised looks as they simultaneously caught the expression on Jo’s face. It showed anguish. And although she was hiding behind dark glasses and the rim of her hat, every part of her body showed her feelings, Glenda thought.

“Someone’s not feeling very well today,” she whispered to her husband.

“Oh. Right. I see that,” Edward replied softly. “It seems she’s suffering from more than just muscle strain.”

“Yes, I think it’s a lot more complicated than that,” said Glenda.

Anyone could easily follow the trajectory of Jo’s eyes—how intently they followed Luc.

Glenda also observed Peter, who clearly wasn’t watching Jo’s face. Instead he was trying to see as far as he could up her shorts as he slowly swam past her at calf level. He was disappointed she hadn’t come into the water, he was telling her. Glenda figured he felt cheated out of the chance of ogling her in her swimsuit again.

Ignoring Peter, Jo looked as if she would burst into tears. Glenda couldn’t fathom why. What had happened that would make her look so agitated, so unhappy?

Whatever was upsetting her—and Carol insisted there was something funny going on between Joanna and Luc—Glenda could empathize. Men were vain, difficult creatures. But still, you had to love them.

* * * *

After the cooling swim, the group had only to cross a bridge to enter the lovely village of St. Sozy. Their hotel was modest, but Jo didn’t mind as long as she could have a bath and get a good night’s sleep. Her corner room overlooked a leafy town square on one side and the hotel’s outdoor patio on the other. The patio looked a little glum, with its sports logo umbrellas, dirty tables and gravel floor littered with cigarette butts. So did the lobby, for that matter. But she was too tired to care. She needed a nap.

A mourning dove was calling softly, repetitively. Jo could hear its soothing song an hour later as she rested after her bath. She could also hear the leaves on the tall trees rustling slightly in the hot breeze. Something delicious was cooking nearby. A good meal and a good sleep would be bliss. Every part of her body hurt. She couldn’t have managed Luc even if the opportunity arose—she was invalid. She dozed off to the bird’s sweet voice.

Soon it would be time to go down for drinks and dinner. She wasn’t looking forward to eating with the rest of the group. Surely they would know she was a different person from the one they’d met a few days ago? But she couldn’t get away with missing two dinners in a row. People would begin to suspect something was up. So, with a groan she forced herself out of bed. Every cubic inch of her body was so sore that she grimaced.

I’m not a pretty sight,
she thought as she tried to stand up straight.

A few more light stretching exercises might help, she decided. So with difficulty she got down on all fours on the bedside rug and pushed through a short routine designed to loosen her tight muscles. One yoga pose could be particularly effective, she remembered. She cleared a space on the floor beside the bed to make enough room to lie down with her legs resting up the wall.

While she was lying there she happened to turn her head and look under the bed. It was none too clean in there. She saw dust bunnies galore.
Slut’s wool
, she’d heard it called once. She was careful to avoid it.

Best that the slut not get any telltale slut’s wool stuck to her. It might give her away to the others
.

She sighed at the condemning tone of the voice in her head.

Oh please! Quit the dramatics! Calm down and relax. It’s just dinner. You can do it. Make it short and sweet and then go to bed. Alone.

With mixed emotions, she laboriously got up off the floor to get dressed. She was eager to see Luc, but extremely nervous about how she’d behave in front of everyone else.

Absent-mindedly she put on her short summer dress—the black and white African print she’d been wearing when she first met Luc. It barely covered the back of her shoulders where her red skin might catch people’s attention. Her hair was partly wet, but she just tucked it behind her ears and let it hang down her back. No makeup. No panties, either. Some cool fresh air would do her a lot of good down there.

Everyone was enjoying drinks by the time she limped into the patio garden. The men were segregated from the women this time, drinking
pastis
. Jo moved past their admiring glances, sat down between Sarah and Marcie and ordered a beer.

The women’s hushed conversation had stopped abruptly when she sat down, but Jo had heard enough to get the gist of it. Luc’s mysterious disappearance the day before was still of great interest. Carol and Marcie had been explaining to Ellen that Luc must have a woman on the side. That lip of his had certainly been bitten in a moment of passion. How otherwise does a grown man, who clearly could hold his liquor, manage such an injury? Who would bite himself there, on the outside of his own mouth?