Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,62
but because he did—dangerously so.
“Well, I hope my little bedtime story will help you be able to fall asleep now,” Emiliano said with a hint of irony in his voice.
“Yes, I think I do feel sleepy now,” Jackie said, covering a yawn with her hand. Actually, she felt a kind of dreamy contentment at achieving a breakthrough with Emiliano, brief as it was.
“Good.”
He drew the makeshift curtain across the space between the two beds, and from the other side of it, she could hear him say, “Good night, Jacqueline.”
“Good night, Emiliano,” Jackie said, settling herself down in bed again. But she knew that, with the feel of his strong hand in hers and that delicious kiss lingering in her mind, it would be hours longer before she could shut her eyes and enjoy the welcome release of sleep.
XV
They were traveling east along the spine of the island, the Escambray Mountain Range.
Emiliano suggested that they stick to the back roads, just in case Colonel Sanchez had roadblocks set up on the highways to catch them. On a map she found in the truck’s glove box, Jackie saw that taking the back roads meant driving either through the jungle or along the side of the mountain range.
Driving through the jungle, they encountered roads so overgrown with vines and creepers that passage became next to impossible. While Jackie drove the truck, Emiliano stood on the front bumper, holding on to a metal pole that had been soldered upright to be used as a handhold. In his free hand, he employed a machete that he had found in the back of the truck to scythe through the dense overgrowth blocking the vehicle. The squawking of parrots in the distance created a rude counterpoint to the hacking sounds made by Emiliano’s machete. It was hard work, especially when you factored in the heat and the mosquitoes, which were a constant source of aggravation. Jackie couldn’t believe how improbably her situation with Emiliano had changed. It was like entering a movie theatre to watch It Happened One Night and have it turn into The African Queen.
They continued to wear the coveralls they had found in the truck, which seemed better suited to the terrain than their own clothes, now neatly folded and stashed in Jackie’s capacious camera bag.
As they drove east, they made conversation to pass the time and continued to exchange life histories. Emiliano learned what it was like for Jackie to have grown up with a much loved but philandering father and a controlling mother whose only aim in life was to see her daughter married well. As she spoke of this, she caught Emiliano smiling.
“What?” she asked him.
Emiliano said, “As a lector, I sometimes read from Orgullo y Prejuicio or Sentido y Sensibilidad. I was just thinking that you could have been the heroine of a novel by Señorita Austen.”
Jackie blushed, unable to hide from Emiliano that his comment had touched a hidden nerve.
As they continued east, Jackie learned what it was like for Emiliano to have grown up poor, his present success due to his loving parents’ support and the helpful intervention of the United Fruit executive who saw something in the young Emiliano that made him want to help the boy.
And now that the cat was out of the bag, they talked about Walker’s treasure and debated what it might consist of—gold bars, priceless jewelry, or maybe even the gold doubloons and pieces of eight of pirate legend.
Sometimes they wouldn’t talk at all, but just rolled along in companionable silence and stared out the window, gazing upon the incredible scenery passing by: the seemingly endless green fields of sugar cane, the deeper jade green of the jungle, and the sheer walls of the mountains.
The radio, still tuned to that Key West station, provided continuous musical accompaniment. It was now broadcasting Hank Williams’s roistering “Jambalaya,” a pleasant distraction from the scenery, which had become wildly vertiginous as the truck traversed a switchback road that clung tenuously to the side of a mountain. The roadway was only two lanes wide here, and there was no guardrail anywhere along its length to keep them from hurtling out into the abyss should the driver lose control of the vehicle.
All of a sudden, Emiliano, who was now back behind the wheel, slammed on the brakes, forcing the truck to slew crazily to the left and bringing its left rear tire, spitting gravel, perilously close to the edge of the precipice.