I peel Moira away from me, heading into the bedroom. Rummaging through the closet, I pull out my backpack and throw it on the bed. I quickly find the cargo pants and bush shirts Moira had bought for me to wear in the Amazon, along with some socks and my hiking boots. I stuff it all haphazardly into the pack and then reach into my top drawer to pull out my passport.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Moira walk into the room. My head snaps to hers, and I bark, "I need you to arrange for me to get back to Caraica. Get me in as close as you can, and I'll hike the rest of the way. I'll need some of those dehydrated rations and water tablets. Anything else you can think of."
"Zach... there's no rush. The raid is done, and Paraila is going to be just fine. If you wait, I'll go--"
"Just fucking do it," I yell at her, my fists clenching in rage. "It's the least you can do for pulling me away from there in the first place."
Moira's face blanches, and tears fill her eyes. It feels like an arrow has pierced my heart, so terrible do I feel for what I just said.
But I won't take it back, because the brackish bitterness is choking any further words out of me.
How could I have been so stupid as to have left? What kind of selfishness must have been living within me... to have caused me to abandon the people that needed me most? Paraila could have died. Others did die, I think, while choking on the pain of those thoughts.
More importantly, how could I have ever let myself get sucked into this world... receiving its pleasures and frivolity? I turned a blind eye to my people all because I got infatuated with a little bit of pussy.
My heart clenches as I think these vile thoughts about Moira, knowing deep down they are unfair to her. But the guilt and shame is pressing in on me so hard that I have to abandon my love and desire for her. There's no room... not when I'm filled with black rage, tortured pain, and now an insatiable need for revenge.
"Zach," Moira pleads with me softly. "Will you just hold up a minute... let's talk about this first?"
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's nothing to talk about. I'm going back and if you won't help me get there, I'll go to Randall. He'll do it."
Moira nods in understanding, turning toward the bedroom door. "Of course, I'll make all the arrangements. I'll come with you."
"No," I say with an icy voice. "I don't want you to."
Because there's no point.
There's nothing she can do, and her life will only be in danger, because I know as sure as I'm standing here, ready to tear my hair out in frustration, that the tribe is already planning a retaliation.
Moira's face crumbles before me, and her shoulders slump. Resignation fills her face, and she blinks the tears away. "Okay," she says softly. "I'll get it handled for you. You should call Randall and tell him goodbye."
Yes, that's a good idea.
I can't believe just an hour ago, I sat in his office and made grand plans for my future. Now I would be calling him to put those plans to rest and move on with my life.
I've gotten myself a little bit under control. I've wrapped my head around what has happened, as well as the fact that it will be a full three days of travel before I can get to Caraica, so I've decided to stop trying to worry myself into a frenzy. Moira managed to get me on the next flight out to Georgetown, Guyana and, from there, two charter flights to take me directly to the Amazon River in Brazil. From there, I'd have to figure out how to get a dugout canoe to make my way by water to Caraica, but I wasn't worried about that. I'd steal one if I had to.
Overall, she'd managed to cut probably at least a day's travel off my journey by bringing me in through Guyana, for which I'm extremely grateful. However, I haven't even found the voice with which to thank her for her efforts because I'm afraid to talk to her. I'm afraid of all the things she could possibly say to me to change my mind, and while the pain of what happened to my tribe still throbs deep within me, I'm now filled with excruciating pain over the fact that I'm leaving Moira behind.
Leaving behind my new hopes and dreams that had just been bubbling up with excitement this morning.
All gone... turned to ash in a terrible change of circumstances.
Moira insisted on driving me to the airport, and the silence lays heavy between us. Her grip on the steering wheel is so tight that her knuckles are white, and she's chewing on her bottom lip. I want so badly to reach out, stroke her hair, touch her face... and tell her it will all be okay.
But it won't.
Not for either of us.
The airport exit looms ahead, and she turns on her blinker to take it. My chest cramps with anxiety and the wrongness of all of this, but I push it aside. I have to be strong... for my people. For Paraila.
And I hope that Moira can be strong enough for herself as I leave her behind.
Moira navigates her way to the proper terminal, weaving among traffic until she finds a place to pull up alongside the curb outside of United Airlines.
We both get out of the car, and I wait for her to circle around. She hands me my tickets that she had printed off at the house and then presses another envelope into my hand.
"Here's some cash," she says.
"It won't do me any good," I say as I try to push it back at her. "I'll have to barter something else to get a canoe."
She shakes her head at me, her eyes haunted. "Not for a canoe. When you land near the river, find someone to buy some rifles from. Take the time to learn how to use them before you leave."
I blink in surprise at her. "Guns?"
"You're going after the Matica, aren't you?" she asks simply.
"You know we are."
"Then I want you to have the upper hand. Use the modern technology available."
My head starts swimming. "You want me to buy guns?"
Tears fill Moira's eyes, and she nods her head. "I want you to be safe, Zach. I want you to not get killed. Guns will help."
My fingers curl around the envelope and my arms slide around her, pulling her into my body. For the last time, I bend down, smell her sweet hair, and feel her heartbeat against me. Laying my cheek against the top of her head, I take the moment to revel in her touch... her love... her sadness.
I'll take that sadness with me to the grave, whether that is when we raid the Matica or years from now, when I'm probably dying of my battered heart.
"You're not coming back, are you?" she asks quietly.
"No," I tell her. "I'm not."
Moira pulls back and leans up on her toes, placing a soft kiss on my lips. "Then go with my love and know that I'll never regret a moment we shared together. You'll always reside in my heart, Zacharias."
Agony washes through me as I step away from Moira. She blinks those ethereal green eyes, as verdant as the Amazon, and crystal tears spill down her cheeks. My stomach cramps and my chest tightens in pain.
Reaching out one last time, I stroke my fingers along her cheek. "Goodbye, Moira."
Turning away from me, she heads around the front of the car. She never looks back, and I watch as she climbs in and pulls away.
Pulls away from me forever.
Taking a deep breath, I raise my face to the modern sun and feel its heat for the last time. Then I turn and head into the airport, so I can get back to my real life.
Chapter 28
Moira
I close my laptop in frustration and push it across my kitchen table, trying to get it as far away from me as possible. It's not providing me the answers I want.
In particular, I sent an email to Father Gaul two weeks ago, desperately hoping he would see it. I've been going out of my mind with worry about Zach, wondering if he made it back to Caraica.
I'm sure he did. He's the most self-assured, capable man I know. He's at home in the jungle, so there's no reason he wouldn't make it back there.
No, my worry is really about what happened after he made it back. Have the Caraicans already gone to battle with the Matica? Is Zach still alive?
For the last two weeks, I cou
ld barely eat, so sick with apprehension. I'm sleeping maybe a few hours a night, but it's a fitful tossing and turning.
And I'm so heartsick that I can barely function. I miss Zach so bad. I think sometimes the best thing to happen to me would be if I just shriveled up and died, then this misery would at least be ended.
Pushing myself up from the chair, I pad over to the refrigerator. I open it up and stare listlessly inside, noting the extreme lack of contents. Shutting it with a sigh, I head for the living room, intent on getting lost in a movie.
A knock sounds at my door, and I jolt with surprise. No one even knows I'm back in Evanston. I assume it's someone soliciting something, so I ignore it. The knocking continues, but I head to the couch and pick up the TV remote.
A buzzing in my pocket startles me and I pull out my iPhone, seeing a text from Lisa.
Open your damned door.
What the hell?
I scurry off my couch and run to the door, throwing it open. Lisa stands there, holding a carry-on suitcase with a devious smile on her face. "Hey, baby sister."
Stepping backward, I blink in surprise as Lisa walks in, setting her suitcase down. As I close the door, I ask her, "What are you doing here?"
"Well... see, I have this little sister who has been ignoring my calls, texts, and emails for two fucking weeks, so I was worried about her."
"How did you even know I was here?" I ask, astounded that she's standing in my living room.
"Because I called Randall and he told me what happened. How could you, Moira? How could you go through all of that and not even tell me? Not even let me help you?"
Her voice is laced with chastisement but also a huge dose of sympathy. My lower lip trembles. Then she's opening her arms to me, and I'm sinking in to them.
I start sobbing loudly on her shoulder as she strokes my back and coos words of comfort to me.
"Let it out, sweetie," she cajoles. "Let it out."
And I do... for the first time since Zach left me, I pour out every bit of my heartache and loneliness onto her in the form of tears and a little bit of snot.
When I am finally able to get myself under control, I take a deep breath and pull back from her. She eyes me critically. "God, you're a hot mess."
I stare at her a moment, and then we both burst out laughing. I cover my mouth with my hand as the laughter dies down, and Lisa looks at me with soft eyes.
"Here's what we're going to do. You're going to go get a shower, because damn girl... you stink. Then we're going to go out to a nice dinner, and you're going to tell me everything. Okay?"
I nod at her even as a few stray tears leak out of my eyes. "I'm so glad you're here."
"I'm always here for you," she tells me as she shoos me toward the bathroom.
"The not knowing what happened to Zach is killing me," I tell Lisa as I pick at the chicken primavera on the plate in front of me. The food isn't holding much interest, but I had managed to down two glasses of wine before our dishes came, and I was pleasantly buzzed.
"Of course that would be worrying you," she sympathizes. "But you're also battling a broken heart that he's gone. You have a lot on your plate, baby."
Nodding my head, I spear a chunk of chicken with my fork and tentatively put it in my mouth. Oh, damn... that's good. After I chew and swallow, I stab another piece of chicken, waving my fork in the air at her. "He just left so suddenly... and he wouldn't talk to me other than to say he wasn't coming back."
Misery overwhelms me and I let the fork fall from my hand, where it clatters loudly on my plate.
"How long do you think you'll be sunk in this misery, because frankly... it's a little annoying?"
"Excuse me?" I jerk backward, and anger rises within me.
"Oh, come on, Moira. You're not one to sit around and wallow in pity. Your man left you... yeah, that sucks. He could be in danger, and it's worrying you silly. I get it. But my baby sister is a dynamo. She'd never sit back and just wait around for bad news to arrive."
"What in the hell do you think I should do?" I ask bitterly. "It's not like I can call him on his cell phone."
"Well, no shit, Sherlock. So get off your ass and go find out what happened."
"Go find out what happened?" I ask stupidly.
"Listen... if he's dead, you need to know. If he's not, you need to know. So go find out."
"You mean go to Caraica?"
"Why not? You're a freaking anthropologist. You've been to Amazonia before and you know how to get there. You have the resources at your disposal, the money with which to do it, because I know Randall will pay for the trip, and you have nothing but time on your hands. Unless you're going to go ahead and go back to teaching in the fall?"
Shaking my head, I reach over and grab my wineglass, knowing I'm going to need more fortification. "No, the university has already arranged for a temporary substitute for my classes. I'll be starting back in the winter."
"Then there's nothing holding you back," she asserts.
"Except the fact that Zach left me. He didn't want me to go with him, even though I offered. He didn't even say he was sorry... or that he'd miss me... or that he wished things were different. He barely said a word to me," I grumble, now aiming my anger at Zach.
"Come on, Moira. Think about what the guy was going through. He'd just found out his home had been attacked and his friends had died. You know he was struggling with the desire to return home anyway. You know, deep down, that it was impossible for him to even concentrate on anything except his need to get back to his people. So give him a break."
Her words are hard, but they ring with truth. I've been so immersed in my own tortured feelings that I had given little credence to what Zach had been going through when he got the terrible news. All I could think about was holding on tight to him, and that did me little good.
"I don't know," I hedge, because even though I'm terrified to discover that Zach may be dead, I'm probably just as fearful to find him alive and unhappy to see me. He made a firm decision that he was returning permanently, his last words to me that he wasn't going to come back to me burning an acid-like hole in my heart. "Maybe I just need to let it go."
Lisa snorts, and my eyes rise to hers. I ask angrily, "What? What's with the passive aggressiveness?"
"I'm not being passive aggressive. I'll just be aggressive, how does that sound? Everything that is bothering you right now has to do with the fact that you have no clue what's going on. Fear of the unknown is one of the worst feelings in the world. You have no clue if Zach is safe. You have no clue if he returned your feelings. You have no clue whether you would have worked out in the long term. You need those answers or you are never going to have any peace."
Now it's my turn to snort. "I know the answer to one thing... we were never going to work out in the long run. He only committed a year here, so in some respects, maybe this is easier. Imagine how much harder it would have been when he left me after a year... after my feelings had gotten even deeper."
Lisa blinks at me, and her mouth hangs open slightly. "You don't know, do you?"
"Know what?" I sneer, the wine feeling warm in my veins. "That Zach was just probably using me for sex, but even the prospect of returning back to a bloody war was better than staying here to fuck me?"
"Oh, God," Lisa says with an eye roll. "Enough with the dramatics. No... you don't know that Zach had decided to stay here permanently, do you?"
"What?" I practically screech as I lean across the table. "Why would you say that?"
Lisa leans back in her chair and thoughtfully runs her finger over the rim of her own wineglass. She smiles at me with mischief. "Oh, this is delicious. You seriously have no idea that Zach apparently had deeper feelings for you than you even give him credit for."
My eyebrow arches at her. "As evidenced by the fact that he left me?" I point out snidely.
"As evidenced by the fact that he had met with Randall and told him that he decided to stay... here with you. He asked for Randall's help...
a job so he could help contribute to the household."
"Tell me you're kidding me," I demand with a sickening feeling in my stomach. "Tell me this is a joke, because I really don't need to hear right now that he had feelings for me. I was better off being pissed at him for leaving."
"Sorry, sis. He and Randall came up with a plan to get his GED and then get into college. Zach insisted though that he have some way to earn income, so Randall was going to hire him at a Cannon's store and sort of start him at the bottom so he could work his way up."
My mouth hangs agape. "How do you know all this?"
"Because I bothered to talk to Randall. You'd know this too if you had responded to his calls and emails. He's worried sick about you."
My head hangs in shame. It's true... I've been ignoring everyone. After I dropped Zach off at the airport, I went back to his house, packed my things, and left. I had sent Randall a brief email that I was returning to Evanston and that the key to Zach's house was under the doormat. He had responded back immediately that he needed to talk to me, but I deleted it. He sent me several more emails, which I deleted without reading. I didn't need his sympathy, and I was better off handling this on my own. I also disregarded all of his calls and wiped his voice mails from my phone without listening to them.
"Zach really told Randall he wanted to stay here permanently?" I ask, still disbelieving... still refusing to hope he had deeper feelings for me than I suspected.
"Apparently the morning he left. He went to Randall's office."
I remember waking up that morning and Zach's side of the bed being cold. I had sat up in bed, a bit gingerly because my hip joints were a little sore from the way Zach had held my legs up, and my ass stung a little.
But, oh God. That was the most incredible sexual experience I've ever had. I had hoped Zach had found as much pleasure in it as I did, because I so wanted to do that again. He was so primal and raw with me, but at the same time, so tender and thoughtful. When he'd asked me if I trusted him, and I answered that I did, his smile told me that that had meant more to him than anything up to that point.
I had no clue where Zach went. I had assumed out for a walk... maybe down to the bakery we both loved to pick us up some breakfast. I made my cup of coffee, sat down to read my email, and then everything started spinning out of control when Father Gaul called me.