Some primitive flee-or-fight instinct tightened Michael’s nerves when he heard the sound of footsteps swishing through the grass in the alana. He stood, hoping he would be able to escort Alexandra to her daughter before Caitlyn awoke, but Delmar appeared in the entry, his trousers wet to the knees with morning dew.
He nodded when he caught Michael’s eye, then held up a large leaf and jerked his head toward the fire. When Michael joined him there, Delmar squatted and spread the leaf on the sand. “I found this in the grass outside. No other trace of her, I’m afraid.”
Kneeling, Michael winced as the age-old instinct seized him by the guts and yanked for his attention. “What is it?”
“I think she tried to leave us a note.” Delmar lowered his voice. “Not a very encouraging message, I daresay.”
Michael stared at the huge leaf. In an uneven, primitive script, his friend had written:
I, Alexandra Pace, want my daughter Caitlyn Grace to be the ward of Michael Kenway if I predecease either of them.
Groaning, he sank onto the ground and dropped his head onto his hand. His heart kept telling him that Alexandra wouldn’t do this, but the message before him seemed to indicate otherwise.
Beside him, Delmar cleared his throat. “We need to make preparations for leaving, Doc. You said it yourself—our presence here is taxing these people.”
Lifting his head, Michael looked at the guide through bleary eyes. This is how Bancroft felt when we left Deborah Simons with the other tribe.
“Now that the sun is up, we need to search again.” His voice scraped like sandpaper against his own ears.
“I’ve already looked. I was out there before sunrise with a torch, and I found this leaf after the sun came up.”
“I didn’t hear you go. Where did you search?”
“Everywhere. I walked all through the field and followed fifty yards of the nearest trails. If Dr. Pace spent the night walking through the jungle . . . well, I am afraid she is beyond our reach.” A regretful smile flitted across the guide’s face. “Sorry, Doctor, I know you liked her a lot. But she was sick, and I think this may have been her escape.”
Michael looked away, lest Delmar read agreement in his eyes. Alexandra had been upset last night, but if she had decided to flee, surely her common sense and logic would compel her to return this morning. The old saying about things looking better in the bright light of day held a lot of truth. If Alex would only come back, she would certainly see that suicide was not the answer.
Standing, Delmar moved to the communal water jug. “Some of the tribes have a practice—when food is scarce, they take their old ones into the jungle, settle them into their hammocks, and walk away. You nabas think that is harsh, but it is really better for everyone. Apparently Dr. Pace thought so.”
Michael stared at the guide. “I can’t believe Alex would do that to Caitlyn. When the others wake, I’d like to form search parties and spread out over the area. It’s entirely possible she survived the night and got lost while trying to return—”
Delmar shook his head. “She had no hammock. The ants would have gotten her if she fell asleep.”
“She wouldn’t fall asleep, don’t you understand? She can’t sleep! That’s what’s killing her!”
“She is gone, I tell you.” Delmar splashed water into a gourd, then lifted it. “Still, we will look. But only for a short while. Then we are leaving, because we need to make good progress before the sun sets.”
A suffocating sensation tightened Michael’s throat as the native tracker moved away. He could plead Alex’s case with Bancroft, but with Deborah’s death weighing on the guard’s heart, he would probably not do more than a perfunctory search. Like Delmar, he would look at this leaf and assume Alex meant to die, though for Caitlyn’s sake he would never voice that thought. Baklanov, Olsson, and Emma would be sympathetic, but they were ready to leave. They’d probably join in the search for an hour, then pack up their samples and happily say farewell to Keyba Village.
Caitlyn, however—he swallowed hard and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around himself. How could he, a man who had never had a daughter, look into that little girl’s eyes and soothe an agony like this? Caitlyn had known about her mother’s illness, but she had not expected to be abandoned in the jungle. She’d be traumatized, and when the feeling of numbness passed, she’d be furious at Alex for leaving and at Michael for not moving heaven and earth to find her mum.
Several of the women and children had risen by the time Michael stood and made his way toward the place where Caitlyn slept. She looked so vulnerable in the hammock, so much like a child, that his resolve rushed away like water going a drain.
He was praying for strength and wisdom when a woman’s cry drifted into the shabono through the open roof. “Hey! Anybody awake down there?”
The voice was clear, female . . . and American.
Caitlyn sat straight up in her hammock, her eyes wide as saucers. “That’s Mom!”
“Alexandra?” Michael cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, but the sound didn’t seem to travel beyond the circle of sleepy villagers. After reaching for Caitlyn’s hand, Michael hurried through the alana and into the open field.
“Alex?” Yelling at the top of his lungs, he shielded his eyes from the blinding sun and peered toward the forest.
“Mom?” Caitlyn joined him. “Where are you?”
“Look up!”
Slowly, Michael turned to see Alex descending from the kapok, her bare feet wrapped in prusik knots, her arms strong and steady on one of the vines Olsson had left behind. Without pausing to think, Michael ran toward the gnarled tree.
He had just hurdled one of the largest roots when Alexandra jumped from the vine, ripped the prusik loops from her feet, and ran to meet them. She threw her arms around her daughter, squeezed her tightly, then leaned back and gripped the girl’s narrow shoulders. “I’ve never been so glad to see anybody in my life!”
“Mom?” Caitlyn’s voice came out as a feeble squeak.
“What, honey?”
“Don’t ever go climbing trees in the dark again.”
A glow rose in Alexandra’s face, as though she contained a candle that had just been lit.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie, if I scared you. But I’m okay. I’m really okay.”
Stunned by the health and happiness glowing on Alexandra’s face, Michael stared at her without speaking.
With one hand still holding her daughter’s, she turned to face him. “Thank God you’re here. I was afraid I’d miss you.”
“Miss us?” He could manage nothing more; his mind had gone idiotic with surprise.
“Yes.” She bit her lip as she glanced at her daughter. “I fell asleep. In the nest, I’m fairly sure I fell into a coma. Yet the sun woke me up, and though I knew what would happen and how it would happen, I didn’t know what day it was. For a moment, I was afraid Delmar had already led you out.”
“We’re still here.”
Her thin cheek curved in a smile. “Thank God you’re still here.”
Caught up in a wave of some emotion Michael hadn’t expected, Alexandra pressed her hand to the back of his neck. Her touch sent shooting stars down his spine, and when she kissed him, his hands slipped up her arms, bringing her closer.
“Go, Mom!” Caitlyn cheered from the sidelines.
Almost embarrassed at the surge of happiness jetting through him, Michael pulled away and stared at the miracle in his arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze as soft as a caress. “You were right. About everything.”
“Just a moment, please.” Unwilling to release her, Michael kept a firm grip on her arm as he tipped his head back to study the tree canopy. “Last night you could barely walk. How in the world—”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” She bent to kiss the top of her daughter’s head, then squeezed Caitlyn’s shoulder. “Run into the shabono, honey, and tell Mr. Bancroft I need to speak to him. It’s important.”
“Okay.” As the grinning girl sprinted away, Michael turned to face Alex. “Answers, please. I feel like a complete wally.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“An idiot. Please, Alexandra, explain yourself.”
Her happy expression faded to calm sobriety. “Last night, the shaman found me in the jungle. I don’t know how he managed it, but that wiry old man tied me onto his back and carried me up the tree— you must have given him the idea. Somehow he knew I was sick . . . and he knew I was ready for healing.”
Unnerved by the sudden change in the woman, Michael stared at her for a moment, then broke eye contact, his gaze drifting off to safer territory. “How’d he know how to find you?”
A shy smile crept into her voice. “I met Yai Pada last night. I went into the jungle to die, and I would have died there if not for Yai Pada. I was lying in the jungle, unable to move and in all kinds of pain from the evil spirits—”
“What evil spirits?”
“From Alejandro Delmar.” Her dark, earnest eyes sought his. “He intends to kill all of us in the jungle, Michael. We’ve got to stop him.”
He took a half step back. “Surely you’re mistaken.”
“I’m not.”
“How do you know this?”
“He told me himself.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Alex,” Michael drew a deep breath, “last night Delmar was with me and Bancroft, searching for you. We never ventured more than a few feet into the trees.”
“He was with me, in spirit form. I know it sounds unscientific, but I saw him, smelled him, felt him.” Her voice scraped as if she were laboring to speak, but her words began to come faster. “He’s a shaman, but he’s nothing like the shaman of this village. He has power—I saw it, I experienced it. And he wants to kill all of us so no one will ever come to this village again. He’s afraid of missionaries; he’s afraid someone will teach the people more about Yai Pada.”
For an instant he feared she had suffered some sort of mental breakdown in the night, but the woman he held in his grip was nothing like the weakened patient he had argued with only hours before. Like Shaman’s Wife, she was still thin, but health had been restored to that emaciated frame. And if God could heal her body through the miracle of faith, surely he could heal her mind and spirit.
“Okay,” he whispered, drawing her into the circle of his arms. “Relax. We’re not going to say anything now; Delmar would only deny it. But we’ll watch him on the trail. We’ll warn Bancroft. We’ll be fine, Alex. We’ll be ready.”
She tipped her head back to study his face. What she saw in his eyes must have convinced her he spoke the truth, because a moment later she lowered her head in a sober nod. “There’s one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“The old shaman. I’m almost positive the exertion of the climb brought on a heart attack. When I woke up this morning, he was sitting beside me in the nest . . . but he had no pulse.”
She lowered her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Michael. If I had known what would happen, I would never have let him make the climb.”
Pain squeezed Michael’s heart as he thought of the wise old man who had done so much for his people . . . and his uninvited guests. “He did what he wanted to do, Alexandra . . . for you.”
Raking his hand through his hair, Michael squinted at the shabono and wondered how he would explain a dead shaman to the people of Keyba Village.