the fire, wind-burned, weathered and lined with creases, she translated what the villagers said. As it turned out, they went straight to the subject of the loan.
“They say the reed boats are like wild horses. Hard to control. If they have motorboats, they can go smoother and farther and catch more fish.”
“Who will they sell the extra fish to?” Josh asked.
“A big company is opening a cannery on the lake, and they’ll buy all the fish they can catch. Trout were released in the lake some years ago, and they’ve grown beyond all expectations. They say they’re huge.” The men nodded and held out their arms to show how big they were.
“Tomorrow,” they said, “you will see.” Then they trooped out of the hut with promises to meet at dawn the next day to take Josh and Catherine out on the lake. Thanking Miguel and his wife for the dinner, Catherine and Josh strolled to the shore to look at the boats before retiring to the schoolhouse.
The night air was cool and soft on Catherine’s skin. After sitting cross-legged in the small hut, her muscles ached to stretch out. At the edge of the lake she paused. A full moon appeared from behind the clouds and flooded the lake with its brilliance. She gasped. It looked like a pool of silver. From behind her she heard Josh’s sharp intake of breath.
“Silver,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “No wonder it drives men crazy.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.
She leaned against him, savoring the warmth of his body, feeling his heart pound. Was he thinking of the mine? Should she tell him Pedro had agreed to take him there? She didn’t want to spoil this moment if he said no. This magic moment when the lake turned to liquid silver and her body felt like liquid fire.
She turned and he saw her face, pale as alabaster in the moonlight, tilted up to his. He struggled with the passion that raced through his body. He wanted to make love to her under the silver moon. If he kissed her now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Her eyes told him she wanted it too, but how would she feel in the morning in the cold light of day when he went back to being a banker in line for a promotion and she was a farmer without a farm?
Reluctantly he took her hand, and they walked single file back to the schoolhouse. She didn’t speak and he sensed her disappointment, or was that wishful thinking? Maybe she was relieved. She changed into her nightgown in the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of pink fabric like spun sugar, and he remembered the nightgown hanging from the wall in her bedroom. The one she’d worn the night in the hammock.
He lay down with his clothes on and pretended to be asleep when she came out. When he heard the straw rustle on the mattress next to him, he didn’t open his eyes. But he knew how she would look with her curves barely concealed, the sheer material grazing the tips of her breasts, and he turned over and buried his face in the flat pillow.
He heard her whisper good-night to him, but he didn’t answer. His throat was clogged with desire. How much could a man take?
At dawn the fishermen knocked on their door, and Josh leaped off his mattress and waited outside with them to drink strong coffee while Catherine got dressed. He’d slept fitfully, visions of Catherine in her nightgown coming and going, but never staying long enough to take hold of. Just like real life. He saw the men look at him with curious glances. Were they trying to decide what to think of his relationship with Catherine? He couldn’t help them there. Half the time he didn’t know what to think of it, either.
He smiled and talked to the men and drank coffee, but his eyes were on the door of the schoolhouse until she finally came out wearing a red sweatshirt and tan pants. Among the reeds she stood out like an exotic flower. Her cheeks stone as if she’d scrubbed them in the small sink, and her brown eyes sparkled in the early-morning light. The men offered her coffee and a chunk of bread, then they all went down to the shore.
They pushed off in separate canoe-shaped balsas before Josh had a chance to say anything more than good morning