The Sunflower: A Novel (14 page)

They climbed the short set of steps where they had eaten lunch the first day and walked through a door into a broad, high-ceilinged hallway.

There were no lights, though it didn’t seem to make a difference to Paul. Christine stayed close to him as he led her deeper into the darkness. They stopped outside a closed door at the end of the corridor. He pushed the door open into utter blackness and walked in and found a cord hanging from the ceiling. A single bulb illuminated the room. “It’s not much but it’s home.”

She looked around. The room was small and windowless, with brown plaster walls.

“The bathroom’s right next door. If you need to use it, there’s a flashlight on the floor there. It scares the bugs away.”

“What?”

“Just kidding,” he said. Christine suspected that he wasn’t. He took a large, bright orange T-shirt out of a wooden dresser. “You can use this as a nightshirt.”

“Thank you. You’ll call Jim?”

“Right away.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Buenas noches,”
he replied, and stepped to the door.

“Paul.”

“Yes?”

Christine walked to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. They lingered, their noses touching, feeling the warmth of each other’s breath. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I had a really good time.”

“So did I. Sleep well.”

He kissed her on the cheek, then quickly stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.

Christine listened to his steps grow faint down the hallway and her heart longed to call him back. When all was silent, she sat on the bed. “What are you doing?” she said aloud. She looked around the room. On the wall, hanging from a nail driven into the plaster wall, was a picture of an elderly couple. She guessed the couple to be Paul’s parents. They looked to be in their seventies; a thin, tall man, conservatively dressed in a gray suit with narrow lapels and a broad, ample woman in a simple navy blue sheath. Banana and orange, she thought. The woman was standing, so she guessed that the picture had been taken before the onset of her illness.

Next to the picture was a diploma. Georgetown Medical School.

On the floor, leaning against the wall was a large pile of books. She lifted one briefly and examined it. It was a medical text on ALS. She set it back down then undressed, carefully folding her clothes and setting them on the crate. Then she pulled on Paul’s shirt. It was large and fell just above her knees.

She tugged the light cord and the room fell into complete darkness. She climbed into bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin. Though she felt a little anxious about being in this strange place there was something secure about being in Paul’s bed and wearing his shirt. She thought of the evening and their kisses and she smiled. She wondered what he was thinking. And then she wondered how she could feel so close to a man she barely knew.

Feelings can be like wild animals—we underrate how fierce they are until we’ve opened their cages.

PAUL COOK’S DIARY

Christine woke to the sound of hushed voices and giggles. Six boys stood at the door looking in at her. Suddenly she heard Paul’s voice.
“¿Qué están haciendo, mirones? Vamonos.”

The boys scattered as he came near. He peered into her room. Something fluttered in her stomach when she saw him. “Hi,” she said.

“Sorry about that,” he said, walking into the room. “They’ve never had a woman stay here before.”

“It’s okay,” she said. She gazed at him as if she’d just woken from a pleasant dream to find it was true. He was carrying a plate with a small bowl balanced on it in one hand and a cup in the other.

“What time is it?”

“It’s a little past ten. Your bus just pulled in.”

“Ten?” She sat up, lifting the sheet with her. “I slept in.”

“They’ll be okay without you.”

She felt her hair. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

“No. I mean, you are, but you look cute.”

She smiled. “What have you got there?”

“I brought you breakfast. Pancakes. And juice.”

“Breakfast in bed.”

He walked over with the meal. “In case you’re wondering what’s in the cup, it’s our own version of maple syrup. We melt vanilla and water and sugar together. The strawberries were grown here.”

“Thank you.”

He set the plate on the crate next to her and to her surprise he turned to go. “I’ll see you outside.”

“Wait.”

He turned. “Yes?”

“Can you stay?”

He looked at her as if it were a difficult decision. “Sure.” He came back and sat down on the bed next to her. She put the plate in her lap and began cutting the pancakes in small, precise squares.

“I haven’t had breakfast in bed since my mother brought it to me on my sixteenth birthday.”

“Then you’re overdue,” he replied.

She poured a little of the homemade syrup on the pancakes, then took a bite. “This is good. I didn’t know you could make your own syrup.”

“Deprivation spawns invention. You should try my guinea pig chili sometime. It’s amazing.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She picked up one of the strawberries and put it up to his mouth. “Here.” He took a small bite then she finished it, setting the green velvet stem on her plate.

He watched her eat in silence. For all his kindness she sensed that he’d rather be someplace else.

“Do you need an assistant today? I’m told that I’m pretty good with wire.”

He didn’t smile. “I need to go into Cuzco. The police have a new boy they want us to take in.”

“Would you like me to keep you company?”

He didn’t look up right away, and when he did, his expression was strained. “I don’t know how long this will take. I don’t want to hold up your group.”

To her heart it sounded like an excuse and she felt her own defenses rise. “Don’t let me keep you.”

He glanced down at his watch. “I should probably be on my way.”

Christine said coolly, “I think we’re leaving around two. Will you be back before then?”

“I should be,” he said. He slowly stood. “I better go.”

Christine set aside the tray, wondering what she had done to scare him off.

“Well, I hope to see you then,” she said. He started to leave then stopped. “Chris…”

She looked at him, unwilling to let him see she was hurt. “Yes?”

“Take care of yourself.” He walked out, leaving her feeling empty.

She looked down at the food but no longer felt hungry. She put the tray aside and got dressed, then went out to find Jessica.

Today I said goodbye to Christine. As brief as her stay was (and as painful as our parting was) I still consider her a gift—like a cool breeze on a hot day.

PAUL COOK’S DIARY

By the time Christine emerged from the hacienda, the group was already at work on the greenhouse. The sun was high and bright and the contrast from the darkened room made her cover her eyes as she crossed the courtyard. When Jessica saw her coming, she put down her pliers and made a beeline to her.

“Spare no details.”

Christine signed. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You spent the night with a gorgeous man and nothing happened?”

“I didn’t spend the night with him, I just slept here. It was after one when we finished. I didn’t want to make him drive me all the way back to Cuzco.” Christine started walking toward the greenhouse.

“What did you do?”

“We had a birthday party for Pablo. We broke a piñata and ate pizza and cake.”

Jessica stopped walking. “Until one in the morning?”

“We went for a walk.”

“A walk?”

Christine smiled at the memory. “It was nice.”

“You just walked.”

“And talked.”

“About what?”

“Things. His life. Mine.”

“Did you tell him about Martin?”

“Yes.”

Jessica cringed. “Christine, you’re
such
an open book. So where did you sleep?”

“In his room.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t sleep
with
him. Paul slept upstairs with the boys.”

“So what is he really like?”

“He’s a gentleman.”

“You mean he’s boring.”

Christine sighed in exasperation. “End of conversation.”

“I’m not done. So where is he now?”

“He had to go to Cuzco.”

“And you didn’t go with him?”

“He didn’t know if he’d be back in time.” She looked down. “Besides, I think I scared him off.”

“I’m sure that telling him about Martin helped.”

“I don’t think it was that. I was just so”—she hesitated—“eager.”

Jessica shook her head. “Chris,
eager
is the kiss of death with men. You know that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just an idiot.”

“I didn’t mean that.” She pulled Christine into her. “Sorry, honey.”

“Me too.” She sighed deeply. “Let’s go work.”

They broke for lunch an hour later. Christine couldn’t stomach the thought of another fatty ham sandwich. Instead she went to the bus and found her suitcase. She found her cache of protein bars and ate one, then changed into fresh clothes. Then she tore a page from her journal and wrote Paul a note.

Dear Paul,

I want to thank you for the last few days. What you do here at the Sunflower is beautiful. I will never forget my time here, the children or especially last night. You helped me in ways you will probably never know.

She lifted her pen, hesitant to write what she really felt. She continued.

If I have said or done something to hurt you, I am truly sorry. You are a very dear man.

I wish you happiness.

Affectionately,

Christine

She folded the note and put it in her pants pocket, then went back to the greenhouse to work.

It was a little after one o’clock that things began to wind up. By half past the hour Jim shouted, “Time to go.”

“But we’re not done,” Mason said.

“The men of the village will finish up,” Jim said.

“You said we’d be here until two,” Christine said.

“I know, but we really should get on the road. It looks like it might rain, and this afternoon’s our only chance to see Ollantaytambo.”

Christine’s heart sank. The small chance she had of seeing Paul again had just diminished. As Christine and Jessica climbed the back stairs into the courtyard, she glanced around the courtyard for one last look. She said to Jessica, “I need to say goodbye to Roxana.”

“You better hurry.”

“I’ll run.” Christine looked in the dining room for Paul, but no one was there except two of the boys, Carlos and Ronal.
“¿Dónde…está…Paul?”
she asked.

Carlos shrugged.

“No sé.”
Ronal said,
“Cuzco.”

“¿Dónde está Roxana?”
she asked.

They pointed up toward her room.

“Gracias.”

Christine ran up the stairs. Roxana was in her room playing with her hair combs and ribbon. When she saw Christine, she immediately stood and walked to her, her hands raised to be picked up. Christine crouched down and held her. Her eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to say goodbye. She wondered how Roxana would react.

“I have to go, sweetheart,” she said. The words sounded so final. “Take care of yourself.”

She again wrapped her arms around the little girl and held her. It was excruciating but she forced herself to her feet. “I’ll never forget you.”

Roxana just looked at her, confused. Then her eyes filled with tears and she grabbed Christine’s legs. Christine bent over and hugged her again and they were both crying. “Please don’t make this harder,” she said. She kissed her again, then stood and without looking back walked out. She could hear the bus’s engine fire up and she knew they were waiting for her.

She walked to the boys’ dorm and found Pablo sitting on the floor filling the back of his new truck with the sticks and rocks that he had carried up from the courtyard.

“Hi.”

He looked at her tear-streaked face. “Hi.”

“Pablo, do you know where Paul is?”

“He’s not back.”

Her throat tightened. “Would you give this to him.” She handed him the note.

“Sure.” He shoved the paper into his pocket.

“You won’t forget?”

“Nah. I’ll remember.”

“Thanks, Pablo. May I have a hug?”

He looked up from the truck. “Sure.”

She crouched down next to him, and they hugged. “Be a good boy.”

“Okay. Bye.”

She turned and walked back down the balcony and down the stairs to the courtyard, fighting the growing impulse to cry. She didn’t understand why it hurt so much that Paul wasn’t there. She told herself it didn’t matter; after all, she really barely knew him. The bus honked and she knew it was for her. She hurried her pace. As she passed the well, someone called to her from the classroom.

“Christine.”

Paul stood just inside the doorway. He walked to her. In one hand he carried a camera; in the other he held a sunflower.

“I couldn’t find you,” she said.

“I’m sorry, I just got back.”

“I left a note for you with Pablo. Just in case I didn’t see you again.”

He looked into her eyes. “What did it say?”

“Thank you. Mostly.” She hesitated then said, “May I be honest?”

He nodded.

“Last night was so special for me. I’ve been wondering all day what I did to scare you off. If I said something to upset you, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Paul frowned. “I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have done that to you. Last night was wonderful, maybe
too
wonderful.” He shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet. Then he took a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s better to just not know what you’re missing.” After a moment he smiled. “One thing I know for certain—Martin is a real fool.”

Christine smiled as well.

“Did you say goodbye to Roxana?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Is she all right?”

“She was crying.”

“I’ll go see her.” He handed her the flower. “I picked it on the way back. So you’ll remember us.”

“Thank you.” She looked at it for a moment, twisting its stem so the flower faced her. “I don’t think I’m in danger of forgetting.”

They stood awkwardly, unsure how to say goodbye.

Jessica had left the bus and was walking toward the hacienda. “C’mon, Chris,” she called impatiently.

“May I take a picture?” he asked.

“Of course.” She held the sunflower up near her face. “How’s this?”

“Perfect.” He snapped the picture. “You better go,” Paul said. He paused, then he suddenly stepped forward and pressed his lips against hers.

“Christine!” Jessica shouted, “You’re holding everyone up.”

They parted, and Christine took Paul’s hand in both of hers, the sunflower crossed beneath. She lifted his hand to her lips. Paul walked her to the outer wall. Jessica saw them together and stopped. “Sorry,” she said, and turned and walked back to the bus.

“If you’re ever in Dayton…”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

She sighed deeply.

“You better go,” Paul said.

She looked once more into his eyes.
“Adiós,”
she said.

“Adiós.”

She turned and walked away, clutching the sunflower. The bus door swung open, and Paul watched her climb onto the bus. The bus’s brake released and the leviathan slowly crawled back up the dirt and gravel road. The afternoon sun glared across the bus’s windows, turning them golden, and he couldn’t see Christine staring at him, her face pressed against the glass. When the bus was out of sight, he went to find Roxana.