Huntington Family Series Page 31

  “When you have as many writing credits as I have photo credits, then you can criticize my methods.” Cory pushed off his arm and turned away from him. Her father and sister had given her the Nikon. Now her father was dead and AshDee out of her life as surely as if she had died. No one was separating her from this camera.

  “Wait!” he said, looking contrite.

  She stopped, knowing she’d overreacted. Evan had made a simple comment, and she’d jumped down his throat. He certainly hadn’t meant to dredge up her past.

  “I’m sorry,” Evan continued. “That’s the camera your father gave you, isn’t it? I forgot. Forgive me? It’s none of my business anyway. I don’t even know how to take pictures.” He sounded sincere, though Cory knew that before meeting her he’d asked the magazine to let him do both the writing and the photographs for the article. Even now he was constantly snapping pictures with a digital camera that was at least as expensive as hers, but she’d seen the resulting pictures and didn’t worry about being replaced.

  She blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  “How about dinner?” He gave her a smile that melted her heart.

  She laughed. “Beans and rice? Or rice and beans?” In the year she’d been in the Amazon, she had eaten her share of those two staples. Of course, the rice and beans were a far sight better than the wood worms, ants, and grasshoppers the wizened natives ate as appetizers. She usually had barbecued fish or fish stew each day as well. There was also a lot of poultry, but as a quasi-vegetarian the only meat she ate was fish. What she really craved was a large green salad. The natives served manioc, yams, palm hearts, and a variety of tasty fruits, but salad greens weren’t popular.

  “I was thinking we’d go into town,” Evan offered.

  “The boat’s here?” It came once a week, bringing mail and supplies, and offering rides to anyone who wanted to return to what Cory termed semi-civilization in Novo Airão. The city was stuck in the nineteenth century, but after weeks or months in the jungle, its amenities were luxuries.

  “It’s been sighted downstream. Thought we’d take a ride in tonight. We’d be eating steak tomorrow.” He smiled to show he was teasing about the meat.

  If they went into town, Cory knew she might not make her picture deadline. In all, because of the boat schedule, the “dinner” meant a precious week lost—time she didn’t know yet if she could afford. “In a few weeks, maybe,” she said. “I’ll be closer to finishing.”

  “Don’t sweat it too much. If you don’t get all the animals on the list, we’ll go with what you have. I can write around it. They understand that you can’t always find every animal exactly when you need to. Come on, let’s go have a little fun. You deserve it.”

  For a moment, she was tempted. His words might be able to cover any deficiency on her part. Yet could she afford to let that happen? After all, her reputation was at stake. No, she wouldn’t trust her career to anyone, not even Evan, who had as much on the line as she did. She’d been given a list of animals to photograph, and she would do everything in her power to find those animals and take the best pictures she possibly could. That was who she was. She sighed and shook her head. “Sorry.”

  He grimaced, but without rancor. “Work first, huh? Then play?”

  “You got it.” That was one thing she loved about him. He understood how important her work was to her. Or maybe he’d finally learned that when she dug in her heels, she wouldn’t budge. “But you go ahead.”

  He stuck out his lower lip in a pout that reminded her of a little boy. “It wouldn’t be any fun without you.”

  “Wait, then, and we’ll go to Manaus instead. I’ll need to send my agent the pictures. Since the city is so much bigger, it’s bound to have better food. And I’d love to look around.” She hadn’t seen much of Manaus when she’d first arrived in Brazil, except the airport and the dock. Her subsequent trips to the city had been equally quick. Yes, it was high time she saw Manaus’s fabled Teatro Amazonas, the opera house made of Italian marble and Bohemian crystal.

  He grinned. “Deal.”

  “I’ll help unload supplies from the boat,” she said. “I’ll need a shower first, though. I reek.”

  “Not to me.” He tried to put his arm around her again.

  “Yeah, right.” She shook him off and headed for her tent.

  The best thing she could say about the large, ugly, battered tent was that the heavy green canvas kept out the rain from all but the fiercest of storms. Taking a moment to download her images onto her laptop, she wished she could have afforded the equipment to give her e-mail capability in the forest. Of course, last year she’d been worried about spending too much of her dad’s life insurance on the solar rechargeable laptop itself, the laptop CD burner, the new digital camera, extra memory cards, and writable CDs—not to mention her ticket to Brazil and the jungle supplies she had needed. She hadn’t dared spend a penny more until the various magazines she worked for began sending their payments.

  After this project, I’ll buy the equipment, she promised herself. Sighing, Cory put her 35mm film in a black storage bag, locked the cameras, film, and laptop in her wooden chest and headed to the showers.

  To get to the bathroom facilities at the edge of the camp, she had to pass the dozen or so tents scattered in three loose rows. Some were large and shared, while others could only hold a single person. New, elaborate versions sat feet away from older, plainer tents with large patches. Some tents had adjoining makeshift lean-tos for equipment storage. Lawn chairs, clotheslines, and small fire pits bordered all but a few of the tents. Bushes, trees, and native vegetation ringed the whole area and had to be constantly trimmed back to preserve the camp itself. The only permanent quarters were the camp leader’s ramshackle cabin, the outhouse, the showers, and the log table with its wooden canopy.

  Cory was glad to see the two-sided showers were empty. Though each side was separate, the inner wall didn’t reach all the way to the ceiling, and seeing the top of someone’s head on the other side always made her nervous—probably her strict Baptist upbringing.

  Turning the knob that would send water down from the basin on the roof, she sighed with anticipation of her timed three minutes of spray. Besides capturing incredible scenes with her cameras, this was the best part of her day—when she washed away the sweat and grime that was her constant companion in the Amazon. The water was warm from a day of baking in the sun, but not too warm, and it felt good against her skin. She vigorously used a bar of strong, sweet-smelling native soap she had purchased months ago in Novo Airão.

  Reluctantly, she left the shower, her time exhausted. In the small adjoining dressing room, she lathered her body with sunscreen and then sprayed herself liberally with bug repellent, wrinkling her nose at the smell. This was the worst part of living here, but worth it, especially as dusk approached. The flies and mosquitoes here made those back in her native California look miniature by comparison. After rubbing the spray from her hand onto her face, she dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and pants—all lightweight and also treated with repellent. It was still hot and humid—it was always hot and humid—but the long-sleeves were bearable at night and offered more protection from creepy crawlies. Glancing longingly back at the shower nozzle, she left the building, knowing that in fifteen minutes she’d need another shower.

  Outside, Meeko swung down from a branch and landed on his customary place on her shoulder, wrapping his tail around her neck. Cory laughed. “Okay, you can come, but just so you know, Evan will be there. Don’t be jealous.”

  Sure enough, Evan was waiting for her near the river with a small group of biologists and photographers, watching the boat glide up the river toward them. Several of the men were swimming in the water, and Cory briefly wished she’d delayed her shower. This part of the river was clean and perfect for swimming almost any time of day.

  They helped unload the boat: rice and beans, specially ordered clothing, fruit, and soap. Her extra laptop battery had f
inally arrived, along with the engagement band the French male biologist had promised to a female American biologist. No doubt, there would be a wedding the next time the traveling minister came to camp.

  “Letters,” called a worker, slinging a small canvas bag over his shoulder. Marcia, an American who’d made no secret that she was in the Amazon only because of her biologist husband, held out her hands for the bag. Cory felt a twinge of remorse. If she’d been better at writing to her friends back in California, maybe she would receive more letters. Shouldering a large bag of rice, she headed back to camp.

  Tonight would be a good time to write letters; maybe she’d even send one to AshDee. Her sister had written three times since the birth of her baby last year. The first time she’d sent a card for Cory’s birthday. The second time she’d sent pictures of Emily Jane, or EmJay, as Cory thought of her. The infant was adorable, reminding Cory of AshDee when she was little. The images had softened Cory’s heart as her sister’s words hadn’t, and Cory had sent her a single postcard in return. Perhaps AshDee was right. Perhaps it was time to look beyond their differences. Their father was dead now, and his severe Baptist, Mormon-hating upbringing no longer needed to come between sisters who had once meant everything to each other. Maybe someday Cory would even be able to forgive her sister for leaving.

  Yet as she had the thought, the old bitterness rose in her throat. AshDee’s betrayal of the family had caused their father much suffering, and, as Cory believed, had driven him to an early grave. He’d been hateful and bitter in the end. He hadn’t allowed her to call her sister and tell her he was dying; not even with his last breath had he forgiven AshDee. Three years had passed, and Cory still hadn’t told her sister he was gone. How could you give even a betrayer such as AshDee news like that in a postcard?

  Unloading the boat didn’t take long. Soon Cory let the last bag of rice plop onto the table and sat down to open her new battery. If she let the solar attachment on her laptop charge both her batteries, she would have a spare for important jobs, allowing her to crop and arrange her photos to perfection before burning CDs to send to her agent.

  For what amounted to a few bucks, one of the natives would look out for her equipment while the batteries charged. The camp folk were an honest bunch, but one couldn’t vouch for the neighbors that ran on four legs or swung in from the trees. There were also natives not attached to their camp who wandered in occasionally and who were prone to take anything that did not appear to have an owner. Their “findings” would eventually make their way to the black market, the proceeds going to feed their large families for another week.

  Cory never understood how there could be people who lacked food here in the rain forest, where practically anything planted in the fertile soil would sprout roots and bear fruit, but there were many who seemed to go hungry. Then again, perhaps it was only the variety they craved. Variety from the endless beans and rice and grasshoppers.

  “Cory! Are you listening?”

  Cory blinked at Marcia, who hovered over her. “Did you say something?”

  “You have an express letter from the States. Only sat in Manaus a few days.”

  Cory grabbed at the cardboard envelope, her surprise giving way to excitement. Meeko, sitting next to her on the table, tried to steal her prize, but she pushed him away. She wondered if the letter had anything to do with her twenty-sixth birthday tomorrow. But who could it be from? No one except Vikki Moline, her agent, had written her for months. The letter had to be from Vikki.

  Unless it was from AshDee.

  Cory’s heart thumped painfully. She’d kept the card AshDee sent last year, and it now held the photographs of baby EmJay. Painful, precious reminders.

  Swallowing hard, Cory examined the envelope. The return address wasn’t from Texas where AshDee had moved or California where Vikki lived, but from Ohio, of all places. Who could have sent it?

  She was disappointed to find the letter was indeed from Vikki, who was visiting her elderly parents in Ohio, touring Amish villages and buying Longaberger baskets. But scanning the letter, Cory’s heartbeat quickened. She jumped from the bench and gave a loud “Whoop!” This was the best birthday present ever!

  “What is it?” Evan looked up from the magazine he’d received.

  “My agent says I’m in the final running for National Geographic’s next spread on the Amazon!”

  “Congratulations!” Everyone gathered around, pounding her back.

  “Hey, I wonder if they need a writer,” Evan said. “I don’t suppose you could put in a good word for me.”

  Cory shook her head. “If you want it, have your agent talk to them. I don’t even know if I have the job.”

  “You will.” He winked at her, and Cory’s insides turned warm. “And I will talk to my agent. Who knows? We might be working together again.”

  Cory smiled. Working with Evan on another project wouldn’t be bad at all. What’s more, getting the National Geographic job meant she could stay in the Amazon longer. The exposure she’d receive would build her reputation and possibly make her career. Others would line up to hire her. If she decided to work only for magazines wanting pictures of the Amazon, she might be able to stay in the country for several more years. She was happy with that idea. Here, she’d found meaning to her life, a reason for why she had been put upon the earth.

  After a dinner of fish stew and tiny sun-dried cakes made of manioc root, Cory whistled as she strolled to her tent. Meeko trailed along in the trees, and Evan walked by her side. She felt content with the world. At the zippered canvas flap that served as her door, Evan put his arms around her, pulling her close for a kiss. Cory sensed by his touch that he would like to further their relationship, but as their kiss deepened, her father’s face swam before her eyes. She broke away.

  “What is it?” Evan said, his voice low and husky.

  How to explain? All Cory’s life, her father had taught her that God would not condone a physical relationship between a man and a woman, except in marriage, and while she told herself she no longer believed in God, her father’s seeming presence in her mind wouldn’t allow her to completely shake off his warnings. Her Baptist upbringing was too ingrained.

  She wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing. Though Evan was a nice guy, she had serious reservations about their involvement. Could their relationship endure beyond an assignment? Did she want it to? He was a talented, rising star, but she knew his attraction for her beloved Amazon didn’t run deep. What else did they have between them besides the jungle and attraction? Only time would tell. One thing for sure, she didn’t want to get stuck in a relationship that would imprison her. Living with her father had taught her that much. A part of her wished she could take Evan’s attention a day at a time, that she could live for the moment, but she simply couldn’t. Not yet. There’s time, she told herself.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she said aloud. “I’m just exhausted.”

  He searched her face for a long, silent moment. “Okay, then. G’night, Sleeping Beauty.” He kissed her again briefly on the lips.

  She had a sudden urge to grab him and ask if he really thought she was beautiful, if she was a woman he might want to build a future with. Ridiculous. What was she thinking? She wasn’t ready to be tied down. She was only now beginning to soar.

  “Good night, Evan,” she said softly.

  Meeko swung down from the trees as Evan left, chittering at full volume and dispelling the sudden melancholy that overcame her. “Come on in, Your Highness,” Cory said with a smile.

  As she lay down on her cot, with Meeko snuggled up to her legs, Cory thought about what she might do for her birthday tomorrow. She hadn’t told anyone in the camp, so she didn’t expect a fuss, but she was beginning to regret that decision. She should at least have some sort of cake, even if it was made of manioc root. If he’d known, surely Evan would have arranged something.

  Will AshDee send another card? The thought came unexpectedly but not surprisingly since she’d been th
inking so much about her sister.

  Pushing the unwanted question aside, Cory arranged her mosquito netting around her bed more securely. Satisfied, she clicked off her flashlight. Except for the critters attached to Meeko, she should be safe.

  Some time later, a high-pitched wail pierced Cory’s awareness. She jerked from a troubled sleep and stared into the darkness. Meeko was curled into an oblivious ball, sleeping peacefully. But something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong. The cry was different from the continuous chirping, buzzing, chittering, squawking, and growling that usually punctuated the Amazon. It was human.

  She’d heard the same haunting cry before; AshDee had sobbed like this when their mother died. Closing her eyes, Cory could almost see two young girls clinging to each other in the night, crying softly so their father wouldn’t hear.

  A dream. Texas was thousands of miles away. AshDee wasn’t alone. She had a husband and EmJay, the niece Cory had never met—might never meet.

  The wail came again, this time accompanied by a soft Portuguese lullaby. Cory clutched at her blanket and listened. Just a baby, she told herself. Probably little Yedo, the black-eyed native child who stared at her from the sling on his mother’s back.

  When sleep finally came again, Cory’s dreams were haunted. On and on went the lullaby whose meaning she could not discern.

  Chapter Three

  How hard can this be? Mitch stood on the porch in utter disbelief at the sudden change in his circumstances. He had raised ten dogs, fifty-four gerbils—more now that Hiccup’s babies were here—eight hamsters, three guinea pigs, four parakeets, two lizards, a dozen rabbits, and singles of almost every variety of pet known to the general populace and many more that most people only read about in books. He knew about taking care of living creatures. He’d studied years of wildlife biology and now worked for a wildlife research company as a zoologist. True, his actual work rarely had anything to do with live animals, but he made up for that with his own pets. Given his experience, one small child shouldn’t be much trouble.