Discovering Sophie (9 page)

“I started taking Spanish at a young age in order to please my father. But as I got older…” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I resented the time he spent away, and decided that learning his preferred language wasn’t going to keep him around.” Looking away from Jack, she continued to explain. “While other teenagers rebelled with drugs, sex, and alcohol, I refused to speak Spanish and focused on school. Much to my father’s dismay, I studied French and became a doctor. Just not the kind he wanted me to be.”

* * *

Jack studied Sophie as she painted a picture of herself in her youth. She was opening up to him, and now he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. However, it was sort of cute to think she considered not speaking Spanish as rebellious.

“Not a party girl, huh?”

“Nope.” She gave him a soft smile. “To be honest, getting wasted wasn’t my idea of fun. Besides,” she said, looking down at the ground, “I wasn’t invited to very many parties, so it wasn’t really an issue.”

He laughed, making her look at him. “Come on, someone as pretty as you are had to be popular.”

“I wasn’t very popular, especially with the guys.” Color stained her cheeks. “I was a nerd, so nobody ever wanted me anyway.”

Now that was hard to believe. She was probably one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. “So you never had any boyfriends?”

“Well, yes, and I was with someone all during med school.”

For some reason, Jack felt a pang of jealousy. “What happened to him?”

She paused, as if pondering whether or not to answer him honestly. “David didn’t like the change in our relationship when I returned to my faith.” She moistened her lips, and looked down into her bowl of food. “He was angry when I made the ultimatum to either marry me or move out.”

A surge of emotions coiled in Jack’s gut. David sounded like a jerk. Despite his own skewed views on marriage, Jack wanted to track this guy down and pummel him for hurting Sophie. He tried to tamp down the irritation he felt about her living with the guy.

“Sounds like you made a good decision.”

She lifted her lashes and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

He knew she was seeing someone now. Peter something. From what little he had gathered, she didn’t seem that into him. Jack wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to probe further. “So I guess the guy you’re dating now shares your faith?”

“Yes. Peter is a good man, and he has the most wonderful family.” Her eyes lit up. “Every Sunday after church, we gather at his parents’ house for dinner. All four of his siblings are married and have a couple of children each so you can’t imagine how crazy and noisy it is, but I love every second of it.”

Given his estrangement with his parents and brother, her enthusiasm for Peter’s large family rubbed Jack the wrong way. She continued to talk about the family get-togethers, extolling each event and tossing out a few names of her favorite nieces and nephews. For a woman who hadn’t returned her boyfriend’s declaration of love earlier today, she seemed pretty tight with his extended family.

“Wow, it sounds like you might like Peter’s family more than you like him,” he said sardonically.

The light in Sophie’s eyes dimmed, and color seeped out of her face. “You know, I don’t feel very good.” She stood up abruptly. “Please tell Hector I’ll do the dishes another night.”

Before Jack could say another word, she dashed off to her tent and slipped inside. He wasn’t sure why his remark had upset her so much. Unless it was true.

He glanced toward her tent and wondered if he should try to find out if she really didn’t feel good or if his comment had bothered her. For several seconds Jack debated about what to do. A blue butterfly flitted in front of him and then hovered over the seat Sophie had vacated. The blue wings edged with black fluttered effortlessly before coming to rest atop a brown book. Sophie’s journal.

Chapter Seven

Jack
moved toward the book, and the butterfly darted away. The journal lay there innocently, the pen marking the page where he had read his name at least three times. What had Sophie been writing about him?

Tentatively, he picked up the small volume and rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface. It would be so easy to flip to the page of her last entry, but reading her journal would be a major violation of her privacy. As much as he wanted to see what she had written about him, he couldn’t bring himself to look. But he was tempted.

It would be better to hand it over to Sophie before he gave in to his curiosity. Maybe he should apologize to her while he was at it. Hector would be back any moment and wouldn’t be happy about Sophie holed up in her tent. The only problem was Jack wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for. He had a feeling if he asked, it would only make matters worse.

Jack slowly walked toward her tent, wondering what he should say. Part of him just wanted to place the journal at the tent’s door and leave it alone, but he knew it would probably rain during the night and he didn’t want her journal ruined.

Before he could alert her of his presence, she asked, “What do you want, Mr. Mathison?”

“How did you know it was me?” Sophie remained inside, and the tent window and door were zipped shut.

“A lucky guess.”

He bit back a smile at her sarcasm and waited for her to come out. She didn’t, nor did she say anything else. Jack shifted on his feet as the seconds ticked by. Still nothing. Was he supposed to wait here all night?

“I have your journal,” he stated flatly.

She let out a gasp and unzipped the tent door faster than he’d thought possible. She was kneeling on her sleeping bag, looking up at him with those big brown eyes. Jack crouched down so he was at eye level with her. Silently, he handed her the book.

“Did you read it?” Her voice was whisper soft.

Boy was he glad he could answer her honestly. “I was very tempted. But, no, I didn’t read it.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes softened with appreciation.

“Sure.” He held her gaze, acutely aware of their close proximity. If Jack didn’t leave soon, he might do something stupid. Right now she looked very kissable. “Well, good night.”

Her lips curved up slowly, drawing his eyes to her mouth. “Good night, Jack.”

He left while he had the chance.

That night, Jack had trouble falling asleep. He laid in his tent, listening to the rain pattering softly, his thoughts fixated on the woman a few feet away from him. He liked Sophie—more than he wanted to. She was kind and wholesome and everything a good Christian boy could want. If he was being honest with himself, part of him wanted her.

But he wasn’t a good Christian boy anymore. He was a cynical man, and he could never be worthy to have someone like Sophie. The resentment he harbored against God and his family had a hold of him as tightly as a Boa Constrictor squeezing its prey.

Unwilling to continue his train of thought, he turned on his side and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep, or he would be worthless in the morning.

Just as he drifted off, he heard a blood curdling scream coming from Sophie. His heart pounded fiercely as he tried to get out of his tent. He could hear her crying. Who or what was hurting her? When he finally scrambled outside, Hector emerged from his own tent.

Sophie screamed again, and Jack nearly ripped open the canvas door. She thrashed around on top of her sleeping bag.
All this from a nightmare?
He knelt down beside her. “Sophie,” he said, shaking her gently.

Her eyes flew open. Then she threw her arms around his neck, clutching the back of his shirt. Instinctively, Jack gathered her small body close to him. She buried her face into his shoulder and continued to cry. Gently, Jack patted her back in an effort to comfort her. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered against her hair. “You’re safe.”

She tightened her hold on him, pressing closer, and he caught the scent of something sweet and tropical. His pulse, already spiked by adrenalin, accelerated to an erratic rhythm.
Oh, man
. Maybe comforting her hadn’t been the best idea.

All at once, she pushed him away and covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled through her fingers.

* * *

Sophie didn’t want to remove her hands from her face. She felt so stupid about her reaction to Jack. Why on earth had she hugged him?

Jack grasped each of her wrists and took her hands away from her face. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s not like you can control your dreams.”

Her nightmare wasn’t what she had apologized about. It had more to do with her throwing herself at him and sobbing like an idiot.

Hector patted Jack on the back and mumbled something before going back inside his tent.

The moon cast its pale light, allowing Sophie to see the fine mist of rain dampening Jack’s head, water running in tiny rivulets down his forehead and cheeks. He seemed oblivious to the moisture as he continued to hold onto her hands, his eyes warm with concern. The man was a quandary to her. One minute he was a sarcastic jerk, and then the next, he was a soft-spoken gentleman.

She pulled her hands back into her lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

His eyes crinkled. “I think you woke up the entire jungle.”

She heard the noises surrounding them, and suddenly the frogs and cicadas sounded sinister instead of comforting. The occasional cry of a monkey pierced the air, sending a chill down her back. “You can go back to sleep now. I usually don’t have the dream again in the same night.”

He frowned. “You’ve had the dream before?”

“Almost every night.” Then she realized what she had just confessed. “I should’ve said something. Warned you. That way you wouldn’t have rushed in to help me.”

He wiped the water from his brow. “If you scream like that every night, I can guarantee I’ll come rushing in.”

She felt bad, knowing there was a very good chance it would happen again tomorrow night and possibly each night throughout the entire excursion.

The lines in his face deepened. “What else haven’t you told me?”

“I…I didn’t withhold it on purpose.”
No, Sophie. That’s a lie
. She had made a conscious decision not to tell him. “That’s not true. I decided not to mention it because I didn’t want you to use it as an excuse to leave me behind.”

The intense look he gave her made her want to crawl inside her sleeping bag and hide. She really wasn’t a liar, but he’d never believe that. Her only defense was her desperation to end her nightmares and find out what had happened to her father.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

The muscle in his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word. Feeling like a horrible person, she scooted down in her bag and turned her back to him. “Good night, Mr. Mathison.”

She heard him let out a long breath. “Good night, Dr. Kendrick.”

* * *

Sophie awoke early the next morning and quickly dressed for the day. While she rolled up her sleeping bag, she listened to hear if the men were awake. Just thinking about facing Jack this morning made her stomach twist with apprehension. She was embarrassed about being caught in another lie, even if it was by omission. Would it do any good to try and explain her reasons?

Of course that wasn’t the only reason she was nervous. The memory of him holding her close and tenderly quieting her fears had plagued her most of the night. If she were being honest—something she was clearly having difficulty with lately—she had liked being in his arms. He had made her feel safe. He had also evoked other emotions she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Stop it, Sophie
. He was just being a nice guy. Good grief. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to turn into one of the many female admirers Jack seemed to attract.

Frustrated with her line of thinking, she finished getting ready and applied sunscreen and insect repellant. Outside, she heard the donkey bray and Hector speaking in Spanish. She had no idea if he was talking to Jack or the donkey.

Knowing she couldn’t hide any longer, she finger-combed her hair, applied a little lip gloss, and dropped the tube into one of her pockets. Her hand shook slightly as she unzipped the canvas door and stepped out.

Sunlight peaked through the trees, warming the wet ground. The heavy air, scented from the musty foliage, filled her nostrils, as did the pungent smell of ground coffee beans. She saw Jack sitting on a log, slicing a mango into a bowl. He wore tan cargo pants and another tight fitting T-shirt which, she realized when he glanced up and locked his gaze on her, was the same color of blue as his eyes.

Sophie’s step faltered, and she quickly looked around for any sign of Hector. The man was just disappearing beyond a copse of trees, the donkey ambling slowly beside him. If she’d come out sooner, she could’ve accompanied him to get water.

Nervously, her focus returned to Jack. “Good morning.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt inside. “Can I help?”

She waited for his answer, trying to determine if he was still angry with her. Although he’d been a little more civil toward her, he was still moody.

“There’s not much to do,” he said, and pointed to an aluminum thermos sitting on top of the small butane stove. “Coffee’s hot, if you want to help yourself.”

“Is there a chance it’s decaf?”

“Nope.” He laughed. “You remember you’re in Costa Rica, right? World renowned coffee and all that?”

High up in the canopy of trees, Sophie heard the chatter from a group of monkeys. She tipped her head back and watched as a few of the acrobatic animals swung from branch to branch. “I remember where I am,” she said, smiling at their antics.

Sensing Jack watching her, she returned her gaze to him. “Caffeine makes me jittery, and I have a hard time falling asleep.”

At the mention of sleep, one of his eyebrows rose. “Which would be a problem if you truly have nightmares every night.”

“Yes.” She sensed he was still bothered by her not telling him about the recurring bad dream. “I really am sorry, Jack. Like I said, I know I should’ve told you about my nightmares.”