Pearls (8 page)

“Looks like she was shopping, Ramirez.”

Isabel stared hard at the men as she returned to her seat. “What exactly is this about?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“We apologize if we’ve offended you, Miss Palmer, but you’ve been a key suspect since the fire.”

Isabel’s heart lurched hard enough to bruise her ribs. “Me? Why on earth would you suspect me?”

“You lived in apartment 3C, right?”

“Yes.”

“The investigation showed the fire started in your apartment, and an accelerant was used. Was anyone in your apartment when you left?”

“No! I live alone and seldom have friends over.”

“Did you store any lighter fluid in the apartment, like for a grill or a fireplace?”

“No. I don’t have any use for it.”

Officer Ramirez scratched his jaw. “Do you know of any reason why someone would target your apartment? Have you made any enemies recently?”

“Not that I can think of, Officer.” She heard the tremor in her own voice.

“Though it’s impossible to be certain because of the destruction, the investigators found evidence that your apartment had been ransacked. Did you own anything of value?”

“I was a college student until just a few weeks ago. I live simply.” Isabel swallowed hard, trying to absorb the shocking news the men had revealed. Had someone targeted her? But what could they possibly want? She didn’t have anything of value ... except maybe the journal, but only a handful of people knew about that.

She heard footsteps in the foyer and turned to see Manuel crossing to the door. Had he been lurking out of sight, listening as the police questioned her? Did he know something?

Isabel pulled in a deep, slow breath and tried to calm the panic that threatened to claim her. What had she gotten herself into? Until now, translating the entries and dreaming of chasing after lost treasure had seemed like a grand adventure. She’d never considered it might put her in danger. That was naive of her. Whenever there was something of great value involved, greed had a way of rearing its ugly head. She’d simply have to be more cautious about whom she trusted.

July 13, 1505

Today, Karwa and I reached the mainland. We stood on a hilltop in the light of the setting sun, and there I vowed to share my life and love with her for eternity. In the absence of a priest, Dios himself officiated our wedding ceremony. I believe His blessing will cover our union. The sky burned with shades of fiery color matching the intensity of my passion as I bent to claim Karwa’s lips for the first time. Encouraged by the wild sweetness of her response, I carried her to our shelter and made her my wife.

How incredibly romantic!
Isabel stared at the translation she held in her hands, but her mind saw the scene he’d vividly painted with his words. “Oh, Manuel, this is my favorite entry so far. Can’t you just imagine it? Two people standing alone on a hilltop silhouetted against a fiery sunset, vowing to love one another, not because anyone is watching, but because they’ve found something wonderful and unexpected.”

She glanced up from her notes and found Manuel staring at her, wearing a look she’d not seen before. Her chest clenched, and she gave a nervous laugh to hide her embarrassment. “We females like to indulge in these silly romantic notions from time to time.”

He stared at her a moment longer before dropping his gaze to the table. “They’re not silly if that’s what you want in life.”

“Romance?”

“I was referring to love and marriage.”

Isabel studied him for a moment, realizing he’d never mentioned any romantic entanglements or even shown interest in the subject. Though he didn’t have Raúl’s striking good looks, Manuel was clean-cut and attractive, certainly an eligible bachelor the ladies would notice. Figuring they knew one another well enough now, she dared to ask him a personal question. “What about you, Manuel? Are you interested in love and marriage?”

“No.”

She thought he answered too quickly. “Why not?”

“I want a career. I want to travel the world and work on archaeology digs.”

“Can’t you have both?” To Isabel the answer seemed obvious.

“No woman would want to live in a tent half her life, traveling from one dusty, dirty location to the next. At least no woman I’ve ever met would.”

She sensed he’d rather change the topic, but she couldn’t resist pushing just a little more. “Maybe you just need to find the right one.”

“Maybe I’m too realistic to believe that will ever happen.”

His voice had taken on a sharp edge that told her he wanted to drop the topic, but she had one last comment on the subject. “Well, I believe a person can have love and a career. I intend to pursue my career, and Raúl can continue his.”

Manuel raised his dark eyebrows in question. “He’s asked you to marry him, then? You didn’t mention that before.”

Isabel lifted her chin and stared him in the eye. “Nothing is official yet, but he loves me and I love him. Marriage is the natural course of things, so it’s just a matter of time.”

“Quite sure of yourself, aren’t you? You have a lot to learn, little girl. Little
American
girl.”

As if he’d aimed his arrow straight at her weakness, his barb pierced the most tender spot in her heart. Isabel bristled at the undeserved insult.
Why must he always remind me that I don’t quite fit in? As if I didn’t suffer enough of that growing up.
Scenes from her childhood flashed through her mind. Standing in line for the bus alone while the white children huddled and whispered a short distance away. Playing hopscotch by herself on the playground. Sitting at home every Friday and Saturday night because no one wanted to date the girl who was different.

At times she hated her father for making them live in the white, conservative neighborhood where she’d spent her miserable childhood. He never seemed to understand the pain his decision caused her. Though people respected her father too much to behave in an openly cruel manner, they didn’t offer her the same respect. Her skin was darker than everyone else’s. She could speak two languages, and her mother sent unusual food in her lunchbox. She felt like the oddball, the misfit of the neighborhood, a leper at school.

Though her escape to college had placed her in a multi-cultural atmosphere and eased some of her suffering, Isabel never healed from the wounds of her early childhood. Nor did she outgrow the feelings of inadequacy brought on by her uniqueness. By moving to Venezuela, she had hoped to find a place of acceptance, assuming she could blend into the country of her mother’s birth.

But cultural prejudice lived and thrived on other continents too, and he seemed to relish educating her on the subject—that first day in his office when he’d informed her she did not speak with the accent of a Venezuelan, and now by insinuating that she did not understand the culture because of her American background.
Too Venezuelan for America, and too American for Venezuela.

Furious and wounded, she pushed away from the table and started to leave.

“Isabel, wait!” He stood and grabbed her sleeve before she could escape. “I’m sorry. Look, I don’t even know why I said that. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Her eyes stinging with tears, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “It’s okay. I guess deep down I know I don’t really fit in here. You’re just stating facts, right?” Jerking away from his touch, she retreated to her room.

Isabel hurried to the pier, hoping she’d not missed Raúl.
He’ll be so surprised to see me. How many times has he invited me to go on the yacht with him?
She’d risen early, intending to escort her grandmother to church. But when Magdalena begged off due to a severe headache, Isabel had rushed to the sunrise service and left the church in time to meet Raúl for a day of yachting.

Marina business was conducted in a stately clubhouse, and she stopped to inquire where she would find his yacht.

“Slip 79,” the attendant told her.

Isabel walked down the weathered planks of the pier, enjoying the briny scent of the ocean breeze and the warm sunshine. “73, 75, 77, here it is.” Her gaze roamed over the impressive craft. Raúl obviously took good care of the yacht because every inch of its forty-five foot length sparkled, reflecting the pristine maintenance.

Grasping the railing, she pulled herself up the high step to the deck. The boat rolled and shifted beneath her feet, causing her to grip the rail for support until she grew accustomed to the movement of the vessel. When she found her sea legs, she removed her sandals and strolled the warm planks. The upper deck was empty, and her calls below went unanswered.

Finding a seating niche near the stern, she sat to enjoy the sun while she waited for Raúl to arrive. Seagulls flew radical patterns above the turquoise water, and the waves lapped at the sandy coastline in a steady rhythm that soothed and comforted. It felt good to be out of the house and doing something fun for a change. As much as she loved the research and translation, she was feeling cooped up from all the hours spent hunched over the books. And besides, a weird tension had developed between her and Manuel since their spat. Hopefully a day off would remedy the situation.

After a time, she heard voices and moved toward the bow. Just as she prepared to step out from behind the helm cabin, she caught a glimpse of the new arrivals. Ducking down behind a storage bench, she watched with morbid fascination as Raúl boarded the yacht with a stunning
señorita
in a tiny bikini and a flimsy cover-up that didn’t actually cover anything. The woman clung to his arm and pressed herself against his side in an unmistakable invitation. Hot jealousy flared in Isabel’s breast.

A gust of wind carried pieces of their conversation to Isabel’s ears.

“Yachting is a sport?” the woman asked, staring up at Raúl, her eyes framed by thick, black eyeliner.

“To some it is. Depends on the sportsman.”

“What kind of sportsman are you?” she purred, tipping her chin up and presenting her full lips in invitation.

“Let me show you.”

Horror swept through Isabel as Raúl turned to the woman and wrapped his arms around her. Their lips met in a hungry kiss, and his hands roamed along the woman’s body, leaving Isabel fiery red with shame and anger. Sickened, she turned away from the scene.

“Come to my cabin,
mi amor
. Let us make some sport of our own before the other guests arrive.”

“Let the games begin,” the woman answered in a seductive tone.

She heard their footsteps and their intimate whispers fade away as they retreated below deck.

Fool! Stupid, naive fool!
She raged as she hastily climbed off the boat and ran back to the car she had borrowed to make the trip into the city.
Abuela
had tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. Hurt and humiliated, she shut herself in the car and drove to a quiet stretch of beach where no one would observe her tears.

From his bedroom window, Manuel saw Isabel return just before noon and wondered why she’d come home so early. She’d left him a note that morning, telling him where she intended to spend her day. He hadn’t expected to see her until nightfall. Curious, he walked toward the front entrance to greet her. When she entered, she tried to avoid his gaze, but he couldn’t help noticing her reddened eyes and pale, distraught face.

“Isabel?”

She rushed past him and fled down the hallway to her room, shutting the door with a resounding thud. He followed and stood outside her room for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do. Ideally, he would find Doña Montez and explain the situation to her. She would be the best choice to aid Isabel with her problems. But the older woman remained in bed with a headache, and Maria, the cook, had given Manuel stern orders not to disturb the matriarch. Concerned, he couldn’t just ignore her obvious distress. Drawing a breath for courage, he knocked on Isabel’s door.

She answered with a tremulous, “Who is it?”

“Isabel, are you all right?”

“Not really.” He heard her sniffle and blow her nose.

“I feel silly talking to your door. Can you come and tell me what’s wrong?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s humiliating.”

“Isabel, please don’t make me stand out here all night pleading. Just open up and talk to me. We’re friends, right? Friends are there for each other. I promise you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

He heard her soft footfalls crossing her room and the door swung open. Her face was red and blotchy and she held a wad of tissue in one hand. “If you must know, that … that
horrible
man I’ve been dating, he….” A sob choked off her words.

“He what, Isabel? Did he hurt you?” Manuel felt a surge of protectiveness as he studied Isabel’s sorrowful face, teary eyes, and drooping shoulders. She looked more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her, and he couldn’t help but lay a protective hand her shoulder.