The Sunflower: A Novel (15 page)

The more I study history the more I realize how little mankind has changed. There are no new scripts, just different actors.

PAUL COOK’S DIARY

Christine sat silently as the bus moved past broad terraced fields south into the Sacred Valley. From time to time Jim would take the bus’s microphone and point out landmarks, but Christine was oblivious to them. Her mind was still at El Girasol.

“A sol for your thoughts,” Jessica said.

Christine looked out the window. “You’d be wasting your money.”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re being so quiet?”

She sighed deeply. “No.”

“Are you mad at me for neglecting you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Christine turned to her. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jessica raised her hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. Sorry.” She had barely let the moment settle when she started up again. “Chris, you’ve got to move on. Martin hasn’t even called since he left. He’s not worthy of your pain.”

Christine didn’t respond, and Jessica suddenly understood.

“It
isn’t
Martin.” Christine’s expression confirmed her suspicion. “That must have been some walk.”

Christine turned to her. “I want to see him again.”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for him…” Jessica slowly shook her head. “Chris, what are you thinking? The man has crates for furniture. Where are you going to go with that?”

Christine turned back to the window.

“Don’t be mad at me, I’m just being realistic.”

Without turning back, Christine said, “And your relationship with Jim is realistic?”

“At least he lives in the same hemisphere.” Her voice dropped. “Besides, it’s as realistic as any of my relationships.”

Jessica leaned closer. “Listen, Chris, I have no illusion that this fling with Jim will last past next week. That’s just my twisted way of dealing with things. But you don’t do anything halfway. There’s nothing good you can take from this.”

Christine said nothing.

Jessica persisted. “Just like that you’ve forgotten Martin?”

“Like you said, he’s not worthy of my pain.”

“Is Paul?”

She didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know.”

Jessica sat back in her seat. “Well at least you know there are other fish in the sea besides Martin.”

Christine closed her eyes and leaned against the window.

An hour later the bus pulled off the main road into a mountain valley. Jim stood up and grabbed the bus’s microphone. “Just up ahead here is the village of Ollantaytambo.”

“Ollantaytambo is the last stop of the Sacred Valley. It was one of the last strongholds of the Incas. When Pizarro conquered Cuzco, the Incas retreated here. Pizarro sent his brother after them, but the Incas were ready for them and for the first time the Spaniards were defeated. At least for a while. Pizarro sent a larger force and the Incas retreated to their final holdout at Vilcabamba.

“The town we’re passing through is the original Incan town. As you can see most of the ruins are up on the mountain. If you look across to the neighboring mountain, you will see what looks like a man’s head wearing a crown.

“There’s some controversy among scholars, but some believe that this face was carved by the Incas and is the great white-bearded god whom the Incas mistook Pizarro to be. When we arrive, you’re free to climb to the top of the ruins, but please keep track of the time. Dinner’s at six, and we need to be back on the bus by a quarter after five.”

After maneuvering between several other tourist buses, the bus braked to a stop in the parking lot outside the ruins. From below, the ruins looked like a great stone pyramid built into the side of a mountain.

Jessica stood. “C’mon, Chris, let’s go.”

The group climbed the terraced hills to the temple above. At the top of the climb Christine separated from the group and sat down on a terrace, her feet hanging over a six-foot drop to the plateau below. Thin gray clouds collected above, casting a shadow on the valley and the miniature township below. The air was cool and the wind danced her hair around her shoulders. After a few minutes Jim came and sat down next to her. Christine wondered where Jessica was and if she’d sent him.

“Pretty amazing, aren’t they?” he asked. “They estimate that some of these stones up here weigh more than seventeen tons. There’s a quarry about seven miles from here, just over those mountains, where they cut the stones for the temple.”

“It’s remarkable.”

“Do you know what built this city?”

“Thousands of slaves?”

“That and one man’s love. Ollantaytambo was founded by an Incan general named Ollantay. He was the most powerful of the Incan generals. Ollantay fell in love with the king’s daughter. He asked the king if he could marry her, but because he didn’t have royal blood, the king turned him down. So he took those who would follow him and he left Cuzco and built this fortress. His plan was to finish building the city, then march back and fight for her. But before the city was complete, the king died and his son took over. His son feared Ollantay and didn’t care who married his sister, so rather than go to battle he just let Ollantay take her.” He looked out over the valley.

Christine looked up at him. “That’s a true story?”

“So I’m told.”

“It’s pretty romantic.” Christine pulled the hair back from her face. “So you think maybe I should build a fortress?”

Jim smiled. “The moral of my little tale is that when love is right, things work out. Not necessarily the way you think they will, but they do work out.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“How long have you known Paul?”

“Three, four years.”

“Is he really as kind as he seems?”

“Yeah, I think so.” After a moment he looked at his watch. “I better start rounding everyone up. I’ll see you in a few.”

Back on the bus, Jessica asked Christine, “What were you and Jim talking about?” There was a hint of jealousy in her tone.

“He was telling me the story of the ruins.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She suddenly smiled. “You know, Jim’s a pretty smart guy.”

Jessica looked at her quizzically. “Is he now?”

She nodded.

“You sure you weren’t talking about me?”

Christine turned away. “No. Just the ruins.”

The bus arrived at the hotel as the Sacred Valley settled into twilight. A guard opened a gate in a long sandstone fence and let them into the hotel’s parking lot. A sign on the building read
BEST WESTERN INCALAND
.

“Look at that,” Jessica said, “a Best Western in the middle of nowhere. Hey, Sledge, what’s this town called?”

Jim looked over. “Urubamba,” he said.

“Do you know what Urubamba means?” Christine asked Jessica.

“No. I can’t even pronounce it.”

“Paul told me it means Land of Spiders.”

“I bet you were thrilled to learn that.”

“You know I was.”

“Let’s hope it’s false advertising,” she said.

The hotel was a labyrinth of small bungalows surrounded by lush Andean flora. In the center of the resort was an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and to one side of it was a corral with well-groomed llamas. Jessica and Christine stopped to look at the animals, then took their bags to their room.

The two women put away their bags, then Jessica left to eat while Christine stayed behind. She wasn’t in the mood for socializing. She took her sunflower out of her pack and looked at it. She wondered if Paul missed her as much as she missed him. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Though it didn’t seem likely, she held to Jim’s words:
when love is right, things work out.

She set the sunflower on her nightstand, shut off the light and went to sleep.

I have tried to settle back into my routine, but it hasn’t been easy. I wonder how one woman and three days could so change my world.

PAUL COOK’S DIARY

Christine woke before the alarm. Jessica was lightly snoring in the bed next to her. Christine quietly dressed then walked out of their cabana. It had rained during the night, and the grounds of the resort were wet and puddled. The air was cool and thin, and her head hurt a little, whether from emotion or the altitude she wasn’t sure. Still she felt better than she had the day before.

Many of the group had already gathered at the breakfast buffet in a large lodge. There were other tourists groups as well, and more than half the room was speaking Japanese.

Joan and Mason were sitting together and they waved her over.

“How’d y’all sleep?” Mason said, lifting a piece of burnt toast.

“Fine.”

“I didn’t see you last night,” Joan said.

“I was tired. I just went to bed.”

Mason began scraping the burnt side of his toast with a butter knife. “Where’s that friend of yours?”

“She’s still in bed.”

“She better not be late today,” Joan said, “We’ve got a train to catch.”

“Don’t forget to take your bags up front,” Mason said. “The bus is going to take them back to Cuzco. We take the train the whole way back.”

“You know,” Joan said, “it’s a shame that Paul didn’t come along with us. The two of you made a cute couple.”

The comment caught Christine off guard. “Thanks,” she said awkwardly. “I better go check on Jess.”

Christine picked up some fruit and a couple pastries, wrapped them in a napkin and went back to her room. Jessica was already dressed and packing her bag.

“We need to take our bags up front,” Christine said.

“I know. What time is it anyway?”

“Almost eight.”

“We’ve got to go. The train leaves in fifteen minutes.”

The train station was on the other side of the resort and the women had to run to make it to the train on time, arriving sweaty and out of breath. The train was small, with only five passenger cars; the railroad track had been built alongside the Urubamba River, cutting south deep into jungles until it reached the town of Aguas Calientes—Hot Waters. As they approached the village the waters grew angrier into class five rapids that churned and spit and heaved with such violence that the river’s muddy waters almost appeared to be boiling.

As they neared their destination, Jim stood at the front of the train. “If I may have your attention now, I’m going to tell you a little about Machu Picchu. Known as the lost city, Machu Picchu was one of the most beautiful sacred cities established by the Incas and was populated by a specially chosen lineage of Incan nobility.

“As you’ve seen in Cuzco, the Spanish conquistadors destroyed most of the Incan religious and political centers. Fortunately for us Machu Picchu was never found by the Spanish.

“In 1911 an American explorer, a Yale professor named Hiram Bingham, aided by locals, discovered the city. He was not looking for Machu Picchu, as no one knew it existed. He was looking for Vilcabamba, the last Incan bastion against the Spaniards.

“The large mountain that towers above the citadel is called Huayna Picchu. It was the watchtower for Machu Picchu. It is open to the public and you are welcome to climb it, though I must warn you it’s quite steep and even though some handrails have been installed, it’s still quite dangerous. But if you’re up to it, it’s worth the climb. I’ve climbed it at least a dozen times myself. The view is spectacular.”

The train began to slow.

“The last train leaves Aguas Caliente at four-thirty, which means we need to be leaving the mountain by three-thirty. Missing the train is not an option. We’re taking the train all the way back to Cuzco and tomorrow morning we fly to the jungle, so everyone must be at the station by four o’clock. No exceptions.

“After we leave the train, we’ll walk to town together and take a shuttle up the mountain. You can come back anytime you want, just be here by four. Any questions?”

Joan raised her hand. “How often do the shuttles run?”

“Every fifteen minutes or so. But later in the day they fill up, so it might take three or four buses to get us all down. Again, don’t take any chances. There’s a lot of shopping in Aguas Caliente, so you won’t be sitting around down there.”

The train braked to a stop.

They walked as a group from the train down the tracks past a makeshift village of souvenir shops. Christine stopped to look at a chess set with hand-carved wooden figures pitting the Incas against the Spanish conquistadors. Jessica pointed out a glass terrarium containing a tarantula six inches across.

“We’ll shop later,” Jim said, herding them along.

“Are we going to climb the mountain?” Jessica asked.

“If you gals are up to it.”

“We’re up to it,” Jessica said.

They boarded a shuttle bus and climbed the winding dirt road a mile up the mountain. When they reached the top Jim purchased tickets for the group and stood at the turnstile as everyone passed through. Jessica and Christine were the last ones through as Jim had promised them a personal tour.

The terraced hills were brilliant green and a path led from the main gate across one of the terraces into the city.

“This is incredible,” Christine said.

“Machu Picchu’s one of those places everyone should see before they die,” Jim said. “Like the great wall of China, or Venice.”

“Or Dayton,” Jessica said.

All three of them laughed. Jim led them down a narrow stone stairway to a tall semicircular building. The stones were carefully rounded and inside the structure there were trapezoid-shaped niches.

“What was this building used for?” Jessica asked.

“This is the Temple of the Sun. The Incas worshiped the sun, water and Pachamama, Mother Earth. These two windows are perfectly aligned according to the points where the sun rises on the summer and winter solstices.

“One of the guides up here told me that the sunflower was the symbol of the temple and that Incan priestesses wore headdresses made of golden sunflowers.”

“Christine in a former life,” Jessica said.

Christine smiled at this and ran her hand across the smooth, moss-covered wall.

Jim led them down to the next ruin, the Temple of the Condor. The natural stone thrust outward like large wings, and on the ground a bird’s head was carved into a sacrificial stone. A trough was cut in the stone.

Jessica crouched down to touch it. “What’s this thing?” she asked.

“It’s the condor’s head. It’s believed that this was used for human sacrifices.”

“People
were killed here?”

“They think so.”

Jessica shuddered. “Let’s get out of here.”

They climbed around the stones through a dozen more structures, with every wall smooth and perfectly aligned. Halfway through the grounds Jessica and Jim were holding hands, seemingly no longer concerned with whether anyone else noticed.

They climbed down the steps of the pyramid into the center of the ruins, emerging into a broad, grassy plaza half the size of a football field. On the opposite side of the field was the urban section, a row of symmetrical buildings shadowed by Huayna Picchu.

On the same grass a herd of llamas grazed lazily, seemingly oblivious to the tourists snapping their photographs. “Look, Chris, llamas,” Jessica said, running off to see them. Jim cast a sideways glance to Christine, then went after her. Christine followed. When they caught up to Jessica, she was standing next to a baby animal.

“Isn’t she cute?” Jessica said, “A baby llama.”

“I think it’s an alpaca,” Jim said.

“Alpaca, llama, they’re the same thing.”

She leaned down next to the animal and began stroking its neck. “Hi, baby,” she cooed

“Be careful,” Jim said, “They spit.”

“She’s not going to spit. She likes me.”

The alpaca settled down into the grass, its eyelids closing more with each stroke.

“I’ve never seen one do that,” Jim said.

“It’s just like a big dog,” Jessica said. “Jim, take a picture.”

“I’ll take it, “Christine said. She took the camera from Jessica’s backpack. “Jim, you get in there with her.”

He put his arm around Jessica and she snapped the shot. “Perfect.”

“Chris, take one of me kissing the llama,” she said. She puckered up, kissing it on the snout.

Jim rolled his eyes. “You think I’m going to kiss you after you’ve kissed that thing?”

“You don’t have to kiss me,” she said.

Jim knew he couldn’t win that argument. He looked up at the sun. “If we’re going to climb Huayna Picchu, we’d better get started.”

They hiked to the south end of the citadel, where a dirt path led sharply down a ravine to the base of the mountain. A sign pointed to Huayna Picchu and a different direction to the Temple of the Moon.

“Everyone
sure
they want to do this?” Jim asked.

“We’re sure,” Jessica said turning to Christine, “Aren’t we?”

“Absolutely,” Christine said.

The climb took them about an hour. In some places stones had been cut into stairs or ropes hung as guide lines. Even though the trail was well traveled, it was still treacherous in parts. In a few spots they climbed on all fours.

There was a bottleneck at the top of the mountain where the hikers scaled the final thrust of stone to the pinnacle. When the congestion cleared, Jim climbed up first, then held out his hand and helped both women up. No longer protected by the side of the mountain, the wind was strong and loud and the experience reminded Christine of her childhood, when her parents had taken her to the observation deck of the Empire State Building.

“Welcome to the top of the world,” Jim said.

Jessica gasped. “It’s breathtaking. Machu Picchu looks like a toy village. How high up are we?”

“Huayna Picchu is about a thousand feet higher than Machu Picchu.”

“This is amazing,” Christine said. “I’m so glad we came.”

“It always makes me a little nervous taking groups up here. Last year I met a Frenchman hiking up. He said that his wife had died here from a fall and every year on the same day he came back and hiked it in her memory.”

“That’s romantic,” Jessica said.

“Not my kind of romantic,” Christine said.

They took pictures of each other and basked in the sun for about a half hour until the summit became too congested with arriving hikers and they decided to go. Jim led, followed by Jessica and then Christine. The trip down the mountain was considerably faster. Jim kept them at a cautious pace, but they still made good time, catching up with a group of Chinese tourists who had left the summit ten minutes before them. They were about two-thirds down the mountain when Jessica said, “So, Jim. If I fell, would you risk your life to save me?”

Jim was carefully picking his steps and didn’t look back. “What kind of question is that?”

“A girl just needs to know these things. She needs to feel safe.”

“If you want to feel safe, watch your step and stay as close to the mountain as you can.”

“You mean don’t do this…” she jumped over a small ridge to the step below just a few yards above him. The lip she landed on was held only by vegetation and tree roots and gave way beneath her feet. “Jim!”