The surroundings became frenzied with rushing forms and circling chants, causing a sort of motion sickness. But, unaccountably, all the strangeness combined to make Diane feel quite happy. Gradually the merry-go-round came to a stop. But the happiness remained.
Diane and Gabriel looked at each other and laughed, almost hysterically.
“You were a loveable creature,” she said. “What was I?”
He looked at her, confused, as if seeing her for the first time. He seemed to grope for words. Then he said, “You had no form. You were a power that effected many outcomes.” Then he shook his head as if clearing it from an unpleasant vision.
Though most of the audience seemed to be staying for another round of happiness, Gabriel and Diane helped each other to stand up, and they staggered from the hut arm in arm. Giggling, they tripped down the alleyway.
Inhibitions submerged by the natema, Diane turned to Gabriel and said with a teasing tone, “I heard a rumor that you killed your wife. That can’t be true.”
Gabriel exploded with laughter. “I have never had a wife. But if I had, I might have killed her.”
Diane, confused but smiling, said, “But your son—I saw him at the BRI Christmas party.”
“He is my father’s son,” Gabriel’s voice remained pleasant.
“He’s your brother?”
Now Gabriel spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child, “Eduardo is my father’s son.”
Still not grasping the distinction, but not wanting the hilarity to go away, Diane said, “Oh, I see.”
Diane and Gabriel burst into the hotel lobby amid the stares of the few night owls still lounging there. Giggling their way to the elevator, they brushed off each other’s dirt-covered clothing.
Gabriel stepped off the elevator at Diane’s floor, insisting he deliver her safely to her suite only a few steps away. Arriving at her door, he looked down at the key in her hand. Then slowly his glance moved up to her face and remained fixed there. His eyes held an unmistakable question.
Diane was struck motionless, caught in the white heat of his gaze. For an eternal moment, her heartbeat was the only sound interrupting the silence. Then an elevator chimed its arrival at a lower floor, jolting her back to her senses. She turned away.
Gabriel leaned in, gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek and said softly, “Sleep tight, Diana.” Then he walked away.
Diane slept fitfully. Her dreams were a montage of herself and Olimpia running through mountainous jungles, of Gabriel Carrera’s intense glance and Vincent’s angry one, of Latin America’s marble corridors of power.
μ CHAPTER TWELVE μ
Gabriel Carrera’s private jet was on its final approach to Houston’s Hobby Airport. Diane tightened her seat belt and watched through the small window as the ground lights grew larger. They were not a welcome sight. When the wheels touched down, she would be thrust back into the tense reality of her personal life. And the Bellforts weren’t making things any easier.
To Diane’s dismay, when Charlotte Bellfort discovered Gabriel Carrera was accompanying them back to Houston, she planned a last minute dinner party “for the travelers.” She sent a message to Diane saying that she will be sure to call and invite Vincent also.
Diane wanted to see her husband alone. They needed to resolve their differences about Peruvase, and discuss his lunatic plan to sail off by himself. But now, with the dinner invitation, she and Vincent will be unhappily reunited at the Bellforts’ home. And their marital discord will loom as large over the diners as Charlotte’s crystal centerpiece, limiting eye contact and stilting the conversation.
On top of that (judging by the vibes at breakfast in Quito this morning), the dinner atmosphere will be charged with the current crackling between her and Gabriel Carrera, generated by their mutual awareness of his unspoken request last night and her silent rebuff.
She suspected that she had, quite literally,
Diane and Gabriel looked at each other and laughed, almost hysterically.
“You were a loveable creature,” she said. “What was I?”
He looked at her, confused, as if seeing her for the first time. He seemed to grope for words. Then he said, “You had no form. You were a power that effected many outcomes.” Then he shook his head as if clearing it from an unpleasant vision.
Though most of the audience seemed to be staying for another round of happiness, Gabriel and Diane helped each other to stand up, and they staggered from the hut arm in arm. Giggling, they tripped down the alleyway.
Inhibitions submerged by the natema, Diane turned to Gabriel and said with a teasing tone, “I heard a rumor that you killed your wife. That can’t be true.”
Gabriel exploded with laughter. “I have never had a wife. But if I had, I might have killed her.”
Diane, confused but smiling, said, “But your son—I saw him at the BRI Christmas party.”
“He is my father’s son,” Gabriel’s voice remained pleasant.
“He’s your brother?”
Now Gabriel spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child, “Eduardo is my father’s son.”
Still not grasping the distinction, but not wanting the hilarity to go away, Diane said, “Oh, I see.”
Diane and Gabriel burst into the hotel lobby amid the stares of the few night owls still lounging there. Giggling their way to the elevator, they brushed off each other’s dirt-covered clothing.
Gabriel stepped off the elevator at Diane’s floor, insisting he deliver her safely to her suite only a few steps away. Arriving at her door, he looked down at the key in her hand. Then slowly his glance moved up to her face and remained fixed there. His eyes held an unmistakable question.
Diane was struck motionless, caught in the white heat of his gaze. For an eternal moment, her heartbeat was the only sound interrupting the silence. Then an elevator chimed its arrival at a lower floor, jolting her back to her senses. She turned away.
Gabriel leaned in, gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek and said softly, “Sleep tight, Diana.” Then he walked away.
Diane slept fitfully. Her dreams were a montage of herself and Olimpia running through mountainous jungles, of Gabriel Carrera’s intense glance and Vincent’s angry one, of Latin America’s marble corridors of power.
μ CHAPTER TWELVE μ
Gabriel Carrera’s private jet was on its final approach to Houston’s Hobby Airport. Diane tightened her seat belt and watched through the small window as the ground lights grew larger. They were not a welcome sight. When the wheels touched down, she would be thrust back into the tense reality of her personal life. And the Bellforts weren’t making things any easier.
To Diane’s dismay, when Charlotte Bellfort discovered Gabriel Carrera was accompanying them back to Houston, she planned a last minute dinner party “for the travelers.” She sent a message to Diane saying that she will be sure to call and invite Vincent also.
Diane wanted to see her husband alone. They needed to resolve their differences about Peruvase, and discuss his lunatic plan to sail off by himself. But now, with the dinner invitation, she and Vincent will be unhappily reunited at the Bellforts’ home. And their marital discord will loom as large over the diners as Charlotte’s crystal centerpiece, limiting eye contact and stilting the conversation.
On top of that (judging by the vibes at breakfast in Quito this morning), the dinner atmosphere will be charged with the current crackling between her and Gabriel Carrera, generated by their mutual awareness of his unspoken request last night and her silent rebuff.
She suspected that she had, quite literally,
Similar Books
