Expedition to the Unknown

Chapter 7

A pale dawn light crept into Claire"s stuffy cabin through a dirty round window. Sitting on her cot, she looked out the portal at the ever-brightening sky, tracing wisps of umber clouds as the Lírio do Rio"s diesel engine droned in her ears. For the second day in a row, she had awoken, nauseous and soaked in sweat. Seasickness, perhaps, but she doubted it.

Closing her eyes, she fought the growing terror in her heart. I can"t be pregnant, I just can"t be! Taking a deep breath, she counted backwards to her last period. Ninety-five days. She had missed periods before, but it had never bothered her because the odds against her getting pregnant were in the stratosphere. The removal of an ovary and part of the other at thirty-three had seen to that. Or so, her GYN had said.

I can"t be pregnant, I just can"t be!Suddenly, her stomach flipped and her eyes watered. She lurched for the wastebasket beside her and grabbed it in the nick of time. After several uncomfortable minutes, her body"s revolt ended and she sat up, catching her breath. Oh God. Now is not a good time for this bullshit. She swallowed, composed herself, and got up. I need some air.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, she opened the door to her cabin and treaded out onto the foredeck. Through the hot, damp mist rising off the river, she saw a ragged shoreline peppered with rustic wood and whitewashed buildings.

“Bom dia,” said a deep, melodic voice behind her.

She turned to find Manny sitting in the shadows on a skid of supplies under the upper deck. “Morning. Looks like nice day.”

“Si. You up early.”

She rubbed her hands together and wrapped her arms around her chest. “Couldn"t sleep.” She went to the rail and eyed the old wooden boats, skiffs, and canoes pulled up onto the banks of the river. The smell of fish hung in the air.

Manny joined her at the rail. As he bit the end of his cigar off, he pointed toward shore. “Nauta. It"s where we start our tours most of the time. Soon, this beach will be very busy.”

An image of laughing brown-skinned children playing around their working fathers flashed before Claire. She knew it was a romantic notion; most of the men and women on the river gutted out tough lives. Still, for all of their troubles, people in villages like these were oft-times happy and close-knit. As the thought swirled in her head, she wrestled with the fear of being pregnant, of Jason"s walking out of her life. Suddenly, her fancy condo, the Volvo, the closet full of clothes, and all the things she had believed she needed didn"t seem so important. She felt her throat tighten. How can I be pregnant?

How can I be pregnant?Manny broke into her musing, jarring her into the present. “So, what do you think of Peru so far?”

Claire gathered her thoughts. “It"s a beautiful country.” She cast a long sweeping gaze over the muddy waters, steeling her heart against rising anguish. She would not break down in front of this man. At last, she said, “Owen told me the sss is in his blood. Called it family.”

Manny nodded and lit his cigar. “It is true for him. He grew up on this river and in the forest. There, life is much simpler than the complicated world we live in. To understand Owen, is to understand he is a simple man. He takes you at your word. A handshake is good enough for him. It is a pity we live in a world where no one trusts anyone, I think.”

“Yes. It is sad.”

Manny gazed out over the water, letting the words hang between them, then turned and said, “Tell me, why do you want to find this "Lost Man"? What can he tell you, hmmm?”

“His blood can tell me if there was once a connection between Africa and South America.” She paused, realizing how clinical it sounded, and shook her head. “That sounded awful, didn"t it?”

Manny shrugged.

Claire sighed. “Let me back up. Yes, getting a blood sample is a big part of it, but there"s more. I want to know his story. What happened to his people, and why?” Then to her surprise, she added, “I want to let him know he"s not alone, that there"s someone in the world that cares about him.”

“But you will go home and write your paper, and he will be left here, no?” Manny said. “I do not mean to sound harsh, but your words are empty promises. In your heart, you want to believe you care deeply, but in reality you cannot live up to them, because if you do it would mean you would never leave, and we both know you will.”

She blinked as Manny"s words hammered home. He was wrong. She really did care! Didn"t she? She paused, and in the silence between them, looked inward and knew he was right. She couldn"t make a difference in the bushman"s life any more than she could flap her wings and fly. No, her best intentions were just dust in the wind, and she felt like a sham in front of the insightful director. She cleared her throat and said, “Yeah, I guess you"re right. It was a stupid thing to say.”

“Oh, I know you meant well,” Manny said. “I was just making sure you did not think you could change the way things are.”

Claire felt a smile come to her face. How did Owen ever hook up with you? Aloud, she said, “You"re a wise man, Manny. Can I ask you a question?”

How did Owen ever hook up with you?“Si.”

“How long have you known Owen?”

Manny blew a ring of smoke and tapped the growing head of ash off his cigar into the passing water. “About twenty years. Why?”

Claire shrugged. “Just curious.”

Manny glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I think it is more than that, senhora. I think that science brain of yours is trying to figure him out, no?”

Claire grinned. “I do wonder sometimes. It"s the anthropologist in me.”

A large gray fish jumped out of the water ahead of the boat. “Characin,” Manny said, pointing toward it. “Very good eating.” He watched it surface a couple of times, then turned to Claire. “Owen is a very private man. Much has happened in his life that has, how do you say, made him hard.”

“That"s what they all say,” Claire said off-handedly.

Manny narrowed his gaze and wrinkled his brow. “No, senhora. Someone died that he loved very much many years ago. He blames himself.”

Claire"s grin left her face, and before her brain could censor her mouth, she said, “Who?”

Manny shook his head and held her in a penetrating gaze. “If he wants to tell you, he will. I have said too much already.”

Claire blinked. Owen was divorced, but that didn"t mean it couldn"t be an ex-wife. Did he lie about having children? Seemed unlikely.

Manny went on. “I see how he looks at you. Different than other women.”

Startled, Claire drew breath. Which means what? She studied Manny"s enigmatic expression then looked off over the river. The muddy, brown waterway had widened considerably since they left Yurimagus two days ago. The land on their right had leveled off into dense ragged fields of tall, waving grasses. To her left, two and three story clapboard storefronts replaced the rag-tag wooden hovels she"d seen minutes ago. Three men carrying heavy loads of bananas over their backs trudged along the street bordering the shoreline. A short distance ahead of them stood several women brightly clothed in reds, whites, and yellows. She watched them busying themselves displaying fruit and vegetables on makeshift wood tables until she heard Manny stir beside her.

Which means what?Crushing his cigar on the rail, he said, “I am going in for café now. You want me to bring you some?”

“No, thank-you.” As he stepped away from the rail, Claire turned around and reached out, touching the director"s arm. “Manny?”

He stopped and met her searching gaze. “Si.”

She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant about Owen looking at her differently, but changed her mind because she didn"t like the ramifications of the possible answer. Shaking her head, she smiled. “Never mind.”

The director winked and patted her arm. “Do not worry about Owen. He will find this "Lost Man" for you, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Just then, Thad walked out onto the deck. He yawned and stretched his long arms upward. A pair of faded jeans hugged his bare waist and a tiny, gold cross-hung on a thin gold chain around his neck. Clearing his throat, he snuffed and said, “Morning.”

Claire made room for him beside her. “Sleep well?”

He shrugged. “All right, I guess. You?”

She swatted a mosquito on her arm. “Not really. I"ll be glad to get off this boat. You better put a shirt on. You"ll get eaten up.”

“I think they"re more interested in you,” he said, plucking one off her shoulder. “And I hear ya, I"ll be glad to get off this thing, too. We got a long ways to go, though.”

“Yeah. Don"t remind me. And stop yawning.”

He looked at her sidelong and grinned. “You know, in this light, you remind me of Katherine Hepburn in The African Queen.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Down, boy! Are the others up?”

“Yep. Miss cranky Tech-head was bitching about no hot water again.” He spat into the water and wedged a fingernail between his front teeth. “She ought to be a real delight once we get in the forest.”

“She"ll be wanting cold showers soon enough: trust me,” Claire said.

“I believe ya, don"t worry about that,” he replied, nudging her with a friendly elbow. “So, where"s the boss-man? Figured he"d be up by now.”

“Oh, I"m sure he"s around somewhere,” Claire said.

“Yeah, probably below decks checking cargo.” Thad knotted his brow, erasing the boyish expression that lived on his face most of his waking hours. “You have any idea what"s in those two large crates he brought on board in Yurimagus?”

“What crates?” Claire said, surprised.

Thad"s brow rose. “You didn"t see "em?”

“No! Where are they?”

“Up front in the cargo hold.”

Claire mulled over Thad"s comment, remembering Owen"s disappearing act back in Tarapoto. She felt her gut tighten as her suspicious instinct kicked in. They"re probably for one of the villages – holding parts for a generator or something like that. Better check it out though all the same.

They"re probably for one of the villages – holding parts for a generator or something like that. Better check it out though all the same.