Pearls (9 page)

To his surprise, she moved into his arms and buried her face against his shoulder. “Raúl was with another woman on the yacht,” she sobbed, wetting his shirt with her tears. “They were kissing and touching, and—” She stopped suddenly and looked up into his face. “How could he do that to me? He’s been hinting about marriage, then I find him….” Her teeth clenched, and she pounded her fists against his chest in frustration before tears caused her to melt against him again.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her, stroking her hair and back as she struggled with her hurt and pain. The gentle fragrance of her perfume wafted up to his nose and filled him with a heady sensation. He’d noticed how beautiful she was, but he never realized how good she’d feel in his arms. He longed to pull her tighter against him and rest his cheek against her silky hair.
No you don’t, Santiago. This is not the time for that.
To suppress the feelings she stirred in him, he tried to focus on a less dangerous subject.
Work. Think of work.
The journal project.

Oh no, the journal project!
With dismay, he realized that if Isabel and Raúl broke off their relationship, he would probably lose their only sponsor for the project. And then where would he be? He needed the money to pay his debts, and he needed the recognition he could gain from this discovery to further his career.

He knew he was selfish to worry about money and prestige in the midst of her suffering, but there it was. Reality crashing in hard, he felt like crying right along with Isabel. Raúl’s betrayal would likely destroy both of their dreams.

Isabel cringed when she saw Raúl’s Mercedes coming down the lane to Casa Grande a week after “the incident.” The wound of his betrayal had not diminished. Instead it had festered in her heart, and she dreaded facing him. As she watched from a front window, the car rolled to a stop, and he stepped out, looking the part of a dashing, romantic hero.
Why did you have to ruin what we had, Raúl?
She swallowed the ache in her throat and denied herself the right to cry.
Not in front of him. Nor for him.

Drawing a deep breath, she braced herself. His knock sounded at the door, but Isabel didn’t hurry her step. She lingered in the front room for a few moments, letting him wait and wonder. His second knock brought Maria from the kitchen, but Isabel waved her away, not wanting any witnesses to the humiliating scene that would surely follow. She felt glad
Abuela
had taken Manuel for a guided tour of her tropical garden. She would not need to worry they’d overhear.

Just as he rapped a third time, Isabel opened the door. He put on a winning smile and reached for her. “
Mi amor
,” he crooned.

Mi amor.
The pet name was more an insult than an endearment after hearing him call another woman the same thing. Isabel shrugged away from his touch and moved to stand beyond the half-opened door, out of his reach. She greeted him with cold, unwelcoming silence.

His smile faded. “Isabel? Is something wrong?” He placed a well-manicured hand against the door and pressed it open a little wider. “You look pale. Are you sick?”

“You could say that.” She turned and walked toward the living room, leaving him to decide whether or not to follow her.

The door clicked shut, and she heard his steps on the tile behind her. In the living room, she avoided the couch and chose a chair made for one. Her choice brought a frown to his features, one she understood all too well. He liked to touch her and hold her. Recent events had helped her realize how much he influenced and controlled her with physical contact. He would pet her and she would melt, push aside whatever concerns she had, ignore her instincts in order to keep his affection—the perfect recipe for a dysfunctional relationship. Well, no more.

Looking mildly perturbed, he seated himself on the end of the couch nearest her. “I have been unable to contact you for days, and you’ve not returned my messages. Do you know how your absence affects me, Isabel? I am lost without you.” He moved to lay a hand on her knee, but she shifted so her legs were out of his reach. Surprise flickered over his features at her silent rebuff. “What is it,
mi amor
? Why do you pull away from me?”

She held her tongue for several minutes, allowing the tension to thicken and fill the air between them.

“Isabel?”

“I saw you.”

A dark eyebrow quirked upward in question. He obviously did not understand, and why would he? He had been too busy fondling that woman to notice that they weren’t alone on the boat.

“I came to the yacht on Sunday to surprise you, and I saw you with her.”

His eyes widened with understanding, then his gaze dropped to the floor. For a moment, he had the decency to look embarrassed. But like all cads, he quickly recovered from the surprise and rallied. “Isabel, I am sorry you witnessed that indiscretion, but you must understand. The other women mean nothing to me.”

Anger ripped through her, and every muscle in her body clenched with the surge. “Women? You’ve been with more than one?”

He held his hands out to his sides and shrugged. “Isabel, this is the way of Venezuelan men. You will be thankful for my experience when you finally surrender to me. I am an accomplished lover.”

Her disgust and fury grew. For the first time she saw him for what he was.
You arrogant, unrepentant womanizer!
“So am I supposed to thank you for being unfaithful to me? You did it to please me? Is that what you’re saying?” Isabel wanted to claw his eyes out. No wonder he was able to sweep her off her feet so easily. He’d had so much practice, and she was totally naive.

“I am a man. You have denied me your full affections for months. How did you expect me to contain my passions?”

She gasped in outrage and shot to her feet, ready to send him on his way.

His hand snaked out and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her onto his lap. She fought against him, but his arms locked around her like a steel vise.

“I could have seduced you, Isabel, or taken what I wanted at any time. You were putty in my hands. But I chose to respect your wishes, to honor you by waiting.”

“Let go of me!” She jerked and flailed, trying to free herself.

“I didn’t mind. It seems right that I should wait for the one I want to marry.” He hooked one hand behind her head and tried to kiss her while Isabel struggled against his advances. But she was losing the fight. He was so much stronger than she.

“Is there a problem here?”

Raúl’s grip loosened at the sound of the deep masculine voice in the doorway. Isabel leapt from his lap and backed away from him as a wounded animal might shrink from a fight. Raúl’s gaze shifted from her to the doorway, his soft, brown eyes turning hard in anger. “Mr. Santiago, your timing leaves something to be desired.”

Manuel crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. “I’d say I have perfect timing, Raúl.”

Isabel felt a surge of gratitude as Manuel stood his ground, playing her protector.

Doña Montez appeared in the arched doorway beside Manuel, her back straight, black eyes flashing with outrage. “How dare you treat my granddaughter this way in my house?” For a seventy-eight-year-old woman, her grandmother proved to be very intimidating when angered.

For the first time, Raúl lost a little of his bravado. “I uh … forgive me, Doña Montez.” He looked to Isabel, as if to ask for her help.

Isabel lifted her chin and met his pleading look with a defiant one of her own. “Leave. Now.”

He glanced about the room as if looking for an ally. Finding none, he walked toward the door, his back still rigid with pride.

No one spoke until the front door clicked shut and the roar of his engine had faded from their hearing. Only then did her grandmother break the silence, her voice soft with compassion. “The blinders are off and you see with your own eyes now,
Nieta
. But not all men are like Raúl.” The old woman turned to stare at Manuel, a slow smile spreading across her aristocratic features. Isabel watched the color creep past Manuel’s collar and spread upward over his face.

“I’ll leave you two to sort this out.” Manuel turned and hurried away.

Tears burned Isabel’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks, bringing her
abuela
to her side. When warm, motherly arms pulled Isabel into a comforting embrace, she allowed all the pain of the last week to bubble to the surface and spill out.

Manuel glanced into the office. Finding it empty, he headed for the living room in search of Isabel. After the scene with Raúl, she had retreated to her bedroom to nurse her wounded heart. Though he hated to burden her with another concern, he needed to make some decisions regarding his future. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t live on hopes and dreams. He needed an income. Living off the generosity of an old woman left him feeling emasculated, and he knew he couldn’t stay at Casa Grande much longer.

The living room sat empty, leaving Manuel to wonder where she could have gone. Since he’d looked in every room of the house, he decided to continue his search outdoors. He let himself out the front door and found her standing a short distance away. She leaned against a split-rail fence on the other side of the gravel driveway, facing the neatly spaced rows of avocado trees. The wind toyed with the hem of her skirt, causing it to flutter around her knees. The movement drew his attention to her shapely calves, and he studied their smooth, firm lines. His reaction unsettled him, and hoping to avoid further temptation, he forced his gaze to her face.

Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked, but if she heard his approach, she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Hey, Isabel. Do you have a minute?”

She blinked a few times and glanced his direction. The afternoon sun warmed her features and outlined her full lips when she offered him a faint smile.

“Want to go for a walk with me?” She gestured toward the aisles of the grove. “It’s been years since I’ve explored the orchards.”

He moved to her side, resting his elbows on the rail as he studied the trees. The gnarled trunks branched out and mushroomed into full, leafy treetops that met their counterparts to either side, creating arched canopies of shade. “Looks inviting.”

“Come on then.” She stepped between the rails and bent to maneuver her upper body through to the other side. Manuel followed, his broad shoulders and heavier frame not fitting between the rails as easily as hers.

As they started down the lane of trees, Isabel scanned the area. The forlorn look on her face caused Manuel to wonder if she was searching for her lost happiness.

“You okay, Isabel?”

“I came to Venezuela a few times with my parents in my youth. This country, this place, seemed so magical back then. I was certain I could be happy here.”

“You’re not happy?”

She sighed, a sound that seemed to testify to the deep weariness in her soul. “I’ve never been happy anywhere.” She stopped and leaned against the trunk of a tree, the rugged background enhancing her soft beauty.

Manuel draped his hand over a low branch and waited.

“My dad is a professor. That’s how he met my mom. He came to Venezuela to teach English for a year at Central University. They met and fell in love. But a cross-cultural marriage isn’t without its difficulties. His teaching contract ended, and he needed to live where he could find steady work. They ended up in the Northwest. He taught at a junior college for a while then moved into a position at a larger private college after he’d established himself in the field. We lived in a conservative, white neighborhood, and I attended a private school. I can’t begin to tell you how difficult that was for me.”

“Private school was difficult?”

She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “My cultural differences were so exaggerated in that setting. My skin was darker than anyone else’s, and I talked with a slight accent because we spoke primarily Spanish at home. My mother used to pack
arepas
and foods the other kids couldn’t even pronounce in my lunch sack. Some of the students found me interesting—in the same way a science project is interesting. For a while I thought I could make friends, but in the end they kept me at a distance. I never fit in there, and I don’t really fit in here either. Maybe that’s why I grew so attached to Raúl. He never made me feel different. Only cherished and accepted.”

Color stained her cheeks when she glanced at him. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I guess it’s part of the pity party I’m throwing for myself. Sorry, I’m not good company.” She pushed away from the tree and continued down the path.

As he watched her go, shoulders drooping and steps sluggish, something inside prodded him to try and cheer her. He jogged to catch up. “Nothing wrong with talking about your feelings to a friend.”

“Yes, but I’m not talking. I’m whining and moping. I’m mature enough to realize that fact, just not mature enough to quit.”

He chuckled. “Would it make you feel better if I whined to you about my parents and my childhood?”

She stopped and faced him, her hands on her hips. “You mean you have parents? You were such a grumpy bear the first few times we met, I was certain you’d simply crawled out of a cave somewhere.” Her lips twitched, breaking the stern look she tried to maintain.