In Name Only Page 13

  "Simon?" She knew the question would remain unanswered. His luggage was gone, and for a moment she remained very still, trying to suppress her panic.

  Take it easy, she told herself, grabbing great gulps of air in an effort to steady her nerves. He had simply tried to make things easy by registering in another room. After a while, however, the truth dawned. He had already left for Camp Esmeralda. She was alone in Santarem; alone until he came back for her.

  "Oh, I could scream," she cried out loud, kicking a chair with her bare foot, and then almost welcoming the pain, she began to laugh. It was all so stupid, and she had asked for it. He was right, of course. She had followed him into the jungle in order to corner him. After all, there were such things as corners in the jungle, were there not? Her laughter was too hysterical and she had to wait for it to subside, like a pain. She was close to tears, and these came in welcoming gushes. When she was all used up, Jill washed her face carefully, put on some makeup and wearing a denim shirt with her jeans, went down to the hotel restaurant to eat. She did not want to remain alone. She had some heavy thinking to do, but she was afraid to be alone.

  Her husband expected Jill to remain in Santarem until he returned to fetch her on Saturday, that much was clear. She discovered his intent the following morning when she went to settle her hotel bill. It had been paid until the weekend, she was assured.

  Jill spent the morning walking about the unpaved streets of the colorful town, visiting its cathedral and the marketplace and then wandering down to the docks to watch the riverboats. Santarem seemed more her idea of what a river town in the jungle should look like, sleepy, as if it had not yet entered the twentieth century.

  On her way back to the hotel, Jill spotted yet another Wedding of the Waters, this time the Rio Tapajós, green with algae, bumping against the pale Amazon. And as at Manaus, the waters met and did not meld. Perhaps they were both significant of her marriage; perhaps that was why Simon particularly wanted her to see the Wedding in his company.

  She had lunch at the Tropical Hotel, out on the veranda, her view over the thatched and tiled roofs of the town to the wide river in the distance. Jungle birds strutted freely on the grounds of the hotel, and in the attractive, calming atmosphere, she found herself coolly assessing her troubles.

  There was a freighter at the dock on its way up-river from Belem on the Atlantic coast. It would stop in Manaus four hundred eighty miles away. Jill determined to take it, although it had no accommodations for passengers. She would be given a hammock to string up in the small salon, and would have her meals with the captain, and that was all. She booked passage when she found that the hotel would cash her check.

  The freighter docked in Manaus on Friday after a calm, uneventful trip upriver. Jill took a cab back to Las Flores and let herself into the villa with her key. It was only after she changed into one of the gowns she had purchased at the Manaus co-op, that Jill let the housekeeper know she was back.

  Senhora Cordero was sitting in the kitchen with the cook, tiny cups of coffee on the table between them. Both women stood up abruptly when they saw her, their chairs scraping noisily on the tile floor.

  "Sit down, please," Jill told them. "I could use some coffee myself."

  "Is Senhor Todd back also?" The housekeeper refused to sit, and the cook, with a few muttered apologies, left the room altogether.

  "I didn't mean to interrupt," Jill said. She poured herself a cup of coffee. "No, he isn't here. I came back myself."

  Senhora Cordero shook her head, clearly confused.

  "I took a freighter from Santarem. Simon objected to my going to Camp Esmeralda, and I guess he won out." Jill grinned, to prove she wasn't upset in the least.

  The housekeeper gave her a sympathetic smile, as if to say it all could have been avoided, had Jill listened to her in the first place.

  "I really enjoyed the trip," Jill explained hastily. "I slept in a hammock stretched between two posts in the salon. It took a bit of getting used to, but I managed. And then the river is so still, so beautiful, I might have been on land. The captain gave me a couple of books to read, and I had my meals with him. It was all very safe and reassuring." And calming, she reminded herself proudly. She had had a chance to take stock, to consider her future carefully and to know that she was going to stick by her plans.

  She could not see Simon again, that much was certain. Or, if she saw him, it would have to be in the company of other people. She could not trust herself to be alone with him. That she loved him she was also certain. The feeling, however, was not mutual and would never be. She had felt it, sitting in the shade of the ship's deck, the river breezes blowing away all the confusion that seemed to grip her when she was near her husband. It would be better if they were apart, if she were to leave Las Flores, strike out on her own. She would remain in Manaus, although she did not want Simon to know where she was. Not at first, anyway, not until she had settled on work of some kind, a life of her own.

  As a duty free zone, there had to be any number of export-importers who could use an English speaking person with a command of Portuguese. There was something waiting for her, something wonderful, although she had no idea what it was, or how she would go about finding it. She had even had her story prepared for the housekeeper.

  "To tell the truth, Senhora Cordero," she began, knowing the truth was a necessary lie, "I liked the river trip so much, I decided to catch the next steamship that stops at Manaus and go further inland."

  "I'm not sure Senhor Todd will like that."

  Jill gave her a complacent smile. "My husband told me that his schedule is so hectic, he doesn't know how much time he's going to spend with me for the next couple of weeks. He'll understand perfectly."

  The housekeeper's face was impassive, a sign Jill had learned to read as disapproval.

  "In the United States we call a married woman whose husband is always away on business, a grass widow," Jill added as a vague apology for her odd behavior.

  Senhora Cordero nodded reprovingly. "I see. And you don't want to be a grass widow."

  "I don't want to be a grass widow and I won't be."

  "When you have children, things will seem different," the housekeeper told her.

  "Yes. I suppose you're right."

  As if to change an uncomfortable subject, the housekeeper pointed to her gown. "That's very beautiful."

  "Thank you," Jill answered, pleased. "It's made here in Manaus. I purchased it at the Manaus Co-op. Have you heard of it?"

  "Yes. I have. But the clothes are very expensive."

  "Well, they're handmade," Jill told her.

  "Still, they can't have many customers," Senhora Cordero insisted. "Not at the prices they charge."

  "I suppose not." Jill remembered the look on Edna Pinheiro's face when she entered the store. It was a look that said quite clearly that Jill had been the first customer that day. And then suddenly, there it was. The special thing that was waiting for her. She stood up, tingling with excitement. "Excuse me, senhora. I'm going to go out for a while."

  "It's near dinnertime," the housekeeper said anxiously. "What time will you be back?"

  Jill glanced over at the stove, at the large pot of feijoda cooking there, a stew of beans and meat for the staff. She would save them all time and trouble if she ate out.

  "I don't know," she said. "I'll have a bite to eat out."

  Chapter Eleven

  "I want to help." Jill was breathless. She had taken the bus downtown and had all but run the remaining blocks to the Manaus Co-op.

  Edna Pinheiro, alone in the shop, was poised over a plant with a watering can in her hand. She gave Jill a surprised look, as if she did not quite know what language was being spoken.

  "I want to help," Jill repeated. "I want to work here."

  Edna frowned, a little embarrassed. "But it's not possible," she began in an agitated manner.

  "No, no. I mean I want to work with you. As a partner. Please say yes. There's so much I feel I can do. I j
ust couldn't wait to get here. I'm spilling over with ideas."

  Edna carefully put the watering can down. She took Jill's arm and drew her over to a chair. "You just sit here. I'll be back in a moment."

  Jill was too excited to remain seated, however, and when Edna returned in a few minutes bearing two cafezinhos, she burst out laughing. "Okay, I'll go slow. I don't want you to think I've suddenly gone crazy." She bade Edna sit down, and pulled a chair close. "It was my housekeeper," she went on. "She knew all about your store. But she knew something else, too. She knew that your clothes are too expensive."

  Edna looked offended. "But there are plenty of stores in Manaus that sell expensive clothes."

  "Clothes from Paris, New York, Rio, all with designer labels. The very women who should be buying these, are in those stores spending their money. I understand that. They think because these clothes are homegrown so to speak, they should be cheap. So, we need publicity, and perhaps a slightly cheaper line as well, and we need to find other stores in other cities—"

  "And how do you think we're going to do all that?" Edna interrupted, laughing.

  "We will. You need a backer, that's all."

  "I see." Edna was now suddenly very serious. "And is that how you propose yourself?"

  "Yes." They stared at one another openly for a few seconds. "You do believe me, don't you?"

  Edna's face flushed red. "I don't know. Should I?"

  "I'm deadly serious," Jill told her in a very quiet voice. "Today's Friday and it's entirely too late to do any business at the bank. On Monday, you and your partner and I will go to the bank and start things rolling. Meanwhile, I thought I ought to stay here for the rest of the day and learn everything about the co-op that I can."

  "And if anyone should happen to walk into the shop, you'll have the pleasure of waiting on her," Edna said, a look of amazement on her pleasant face. "And advertising," Jill pointed out, excitedly.

  "We're going to get them in here if we have to go out and corral them."

  "You're talking about a great deal of money." Jill looked at Edna, feeling calm and confident for the first time in her life. "Yes," she said. "I suppose I am."

  Later they discussed business over dinner in a Chinese restaurant, one of several foreign restaurants available in the city. They talked with the kind of dreamy enthusiasm that made everything seem possible. There was so much to be done. Afterward, they had walked the avenues, looking in shop windows, deciding on the possibility of a new location, closer to the smarter shops.

  "We should start slowly," Edna suggested. "In Manaus we have a habit of ambling along."

  "On the contrary, we're going to go for broke." Jill giggled like a schoolgirl. "We have absolutely nothing to lose but a little money."

  "You talk as if money is nothing," Edna said.

  "I am sorry," Jill said. "I do want to put what I have to good use, that's all." She remembered wondering, in Chicago, if one had to learn how to be rich.

  Edna was silent for a while. "Where do you live, anyway?" she asked at last.

  "Rua Teresinha."

  The schoolteacher nodded knowingly. "Of course. I should have guessed."

  "What do you mean by that?" Jill asked.

  "It's the best residential area in Manaus. You don't suppose everyone lives like that."

  "Oh, I see. I guess I'm being very stupid," Jill said.

  "I knew that it was very elegant, of course, but I never stopped to think it was special." She looked entreatingly at her new partner. "You must think I'm pretty silly."

  "On the contrary. I find you wonderfully open and generous."

  "And where do you live?" Jill asked.

  Edna smiled. "Not nearly so grandly, I'm afraid. I've a little apartment off Ribeiro, in an old building. My rent is just right for a teacher's poor salary."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes. My parents have gone homesteading upriver. There's still land out there for people who want to build a new kind of life."

  "I came to Manaus to build a new kind of life," Jill said. "And now I really am."

  "Ten o'clock," Edna noted, looking at her watch. "Your husband must be very anxious about you."

  "He's out of town," Jill said quickly, hoping that Edna wouldn't go into the matter further. She asked the waiter for the bill.

  "He won't disapprove of what you're doing?" Edna asked apprehensively.

  Jill shrugged. "He won't have a choice, I'm afraid." She paid the bill, and rather than discuss her problems, took her leave, grabbing a cab which deposited her a half hour later on Rua Teresinha.

  The housekeeper was waiting impatiently for her when Jill let herself in the front door.

  "Senhor Todd has been calling you frantically."

  "Where is he?" Jill asked, flushing suddenly, yet annoyed that Simon should be trying to keep tabs on her.

  "He said to call him at the Tropical Hotel in Santarem. He couldn't understand where you were or what happened to you."

  Jill, spontaneously put her arm about the woman's shoulders. It was no fault of Senhora Cordero's that she and Simon were feuding. "You go to bed. I'll get in touch with him."

  Mollified, the housekeeper waited silently as Jill took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. She had no intention of calling Simon, of having to apologize for her - actions. He had a lot more to answer for.

  It was close to midnight, and Jill lay in bed, dozing, when the telephone went off, the sound a frightening blast in the cool, silent air. She suddenly wanted to open the window, to let in the night cries of insects and birds and small animals. It was awful to be shut away in that cool box. She reached quickly for the phone. "Yes?" Her voice was a sleepy whisper.

  "Where the devil have you been?" His question, in English, was a low, furious burst.

  She was wide awake now, a model of calm, although her heart seemed ready to burst the casing of her body. "Simon, you just woke me out of a deep sleep."

  "Do you realize what you've been doing to me?"

  She couldn't respond, not trusting what she might say.

  "Answer me!"

  "I don't think we have to go into that right now."

  "You don't. Do you know what it was like to get back to the hotel only to find that you had simply walked out, leaving no message, nothing. All I could learn was that the hotel had cashed a check for you."

  "I won't go into it right now," she said.

  "Is it true you just returned via freighter? Are you crazy? A woman alone on one of those?"

  "I rather enjoyed myself."

  "She rather enjoyed herself!" His tone, mocking, revealed a kind of anguish she didn't know he possessed.

  Still, she tried to remain calm, apart, to remember that he had abandoned her in Santarem, that they could never resolve the pull of their bodies toward one another with a meeting of their souls. "She rather enjoyed herself," he repeated. "I thought you understood what was happening when I left you in the room."

  "I understood only too well," she said.

  "I'll be down first thing in the morning," he said. "I want you to wait for me, do you hear?"

  "I'm sorry," she said coolly. "I have an appointment the first thing."

  "To have your hair done?" His tone was sarcastic. "That can wait."

  "I'm afraid it's a little more than that, Simon. I won't be here when you come back. Ever. Good-bye." Shaking, she replaced the receiver. Agitated, almost expecting the telephone to ring again, she fell against her pillow, allowing her tears to rain down.

  Sleep descended on her a little toward morning. She had waited the endless hours for the telephone to ring, knowing that if he called again, it would signal his wanting her, but it never came.

  With swollen eyes scarcely covered by makeup, Jill came down to breakfast early. She was dressed in khaki slacks, a lightweight print blouse, and carried her linen jacket. She had packed a bag with her simplest clothes, leaving the rest behind along with her jewelry, the sole exception being her wedding band.

&nbs
p; "There's a steamer going up the Amazon today, and I've decided to go along," she announced at once to the housekeeper.

  Senhora Cordero, in the process of pouring coffee, turned to her in amazement. "But Senhor Todd is coming home today."

  "Yes, I know. I told him I was leaving."

  The housekeeper, grim lipped, shook her head, but did not interfere.

  "I'll call him first chance I get."

  "I can't tie you down, senhora, but I wish you'd think it over."

  Jill wanted more than anything to take the woman into her confidence, but she couldn't. Senhora Cordero's loyalty lay with Simon Todd.

  "I'll have Claudio take you to the dock," the housekeeper said.

  "No. You have him wait for my husband. I'll catch a cab." A cab to Ribeiro, where she would turn a corner and be lost to Simon Todd's sight.

  Jill Carteret Todd had run away. She had run away to Edna Pinheiro's small, whitewashed apartment, with its wicker chairs and soft cotton hammocks, its open windows that let in the moist tropical air.

  She had not told her new partners very much, merely that she was leaving her husband for a while. Edna would not hear of her trying to find an apartment in the crowded city.

  "You come with me," she had said firmly. "I've room enough for the two of us."

  Jill, grateful not to be alone for the weekend, felt she would be secure for a while. She did not know whether a vessel had gone up the Amazon from Manaus that day. It seemed that nothing worked on time in Brazil. Ships came and left on no particular schedule. Simon would have a hard time finding out where she had gone or even if she had left Manaus. It would, she hoped, give her time to open a new account at another bank, if she started first thing Monday morning. She would need a lawyer, too, but her partners in the co-op were able to hire one for her.

  She also knew that if Simon cared for her at all, he would come for her. Her arms ached for him, and she knew he had only to ask.

  Meanwhile there were excited plans to be made, a whole new life to be lived. She was Daniel Carteret's niece, full of spunk, on the brink of a great adventure, and if Simon Todd didn't figure in it, perhaps, after a time, the wound would heal.