Chapter 12
The Good Ole
Boys Club
Ben
FOR THE FIRST time on this journey, I feel truly rattled.
There have been plenty of times of high stress, sure, but nothing has undone me like hearing Lillian tell Bruno what was done to her on that ship.
I’m ashamed that I followed her through the halls of Bruno’s home, but there was something that kept me connected to her as she scaled those stairs.
I thought she might stop so the two of us could have a moment alone.
I hadn’t counted on the relationship between her and Bruno providing a childhood hideout.
I’d followed her all the way to that window and nearly foolishly followed her out, but that’s when I heard Bruno’s voice.
I truly was going to turn around, but something kept me glued there.
I turned in shame only after she told him about her horrific experience aboard the ocean liner.
Thoughts rushed through my head all through the night as I pondered why I was so upset about the encounter.
None of it was meant for my ears. Selfishly, around 3 a.m. today, I realized that I was jealous and mortified that she hadn’t unloaded her trauma onto me.
I’m supposed to be the one there for her always.
Another fit of rage washed over me this morning when I realized that there is no such agreement between us.
Such a thing would be reserved for a husband, and that I was not.
I’d even left her to go off with Ademir to collect a few of his items from the first expedition.
I shouldn’t have expected her not to catch up with her friend, especially since she so dutifully kept those letters so neatly organized in England.
I have to remind myself that she will tell me when she’s ready. I’ve always been so piss-poor at following my own advice.
A firm hand on my shoulder alerts me to the present, and the illusion of last night fades.
The loading of Bruno’s riverboat is almost finished, and I was tapped to be in charge of correctly organizing our weaponry.
My eyes slide to where Margaret and Lillian walk up the gangway arm in arm before looking to Bruno at my side.
He squeezes my shoulder again and calls out to a deckhand with a rack of rifles teetering dangerously over the edge of the dock.
I suppose I have been neglecting more than one job.
“Something ailing you?” Bruno asks, keeping a steely eye on the man now loading each rifle, one by one.
He’s the last person I want to speak to about my particular troubles; hell, I’d sooner confide in Mr. Bennett. Shrugging him off, I shake my head and dive back into the fray of loading the last of the supplies.
This boat is much larger than those we used previously and even grander than those in Ivo’s fleet the first time around.
I would normally be worried about attracting too much attention, but we sail under Bruno’s flag, which provides us an easy cover.
If anyone were to see us or ask questions, we’d merely tell them that we’re going up the Black River to survey some land on behalf of the Souza company.
Before the last of the cargo can be taken through the loading door, I quickly pick up my own bags and grab an extra pistol.
Tucking it away quickly, I throw all three bags over my shoulder and continue on as nothing has changed.
Everyone is aware of my other weapons as I am aware of theirs; it’s important to have one only I know about going forward.
Reaching the gangway, I hear Ademir call me from the deck above.
Glancing up, I give him a two-finger salute in response.
We’ll be meeting as a group as we cast off, and I’d hate to miss it.
In four long strides, I’m up the gangway and am heading for my bunk.
Ademir and I will be sharing a small room next to Lillian’s.
Bruno was kind enough to offer the two women their own rooms; both of whom blushed and thanked him in fits of infatuated laughter.
It irks me most times I hear or see Bruno flirting with the ladies, but putting Lillian one door down from me has gained him a tinge of respect in my book. I also love how Lillian can see right through his flirtations; it’s a fury-inducing game for me to watch, but harmless enough for them.
Unlocking the door to my room, I take in the initial comfort of the emptiness.
When the door closes, the loneliness quickly becomes overwhelming and my thoughts return to Lillian and Bruno.
The relentless flirting, sure, but also to the conversation I overheard last night.
Bruno made it clear on the roof that Lillian’s protection was part of his interests.
Him putting her near me is proof of that promise.
When I reappear out of my room—guns sorted and hidden away where no one can find them—I shove my hands deep into my pants pockets and observe the bustling boat as I make my way to the top deck.
The crew is well-seasoned; each man has a job and is doing it without a fuss.
Along with taking note of the men we will be traveling with, I also take stock of the layout.
While I don’t expect any more foul play by German U-boats, sinkings on the river are common and oftentimes deadly. I won’t be caught off guard again.
I count 20 paces from my room to the outside deck and then one flight of stairs to the wheelhouse.
I’d map more out later, but for now, it is time to observe and see what opinions had and had not changed in the last day.
The river expedition was always meant for Ademir and me, but Mr. Bennett had commandeered the expedition earlier today.
He claims that if Bruno and his dirty men must come along, then he must take the reins.
For now, I won’t challenge him. I need to save every bit of dissent for when it truly matters.
So, I go. I march right into the navigation room behind the wheelhouse and fade into a corner.
They’ve already started laying out maps.
My eyes scan the room, and I stutter at the fact that Margaret and Lillian haven’t arrived yet.
I shouldn’t allow this to continue without them, but neither should Bruno, and neither should Ademir or Diederick.
I silently shake my head and cross my arms at my chest as they begin planning the route.
Swallowing any thought of staying hidden, I take a step forward and lean against the table as Diederick confirms what I’d hoped I wouldn’t hear.
We would be taking the same trail we did before, right through the heart of that camp, right by that cave system.
I’m about to imply that we should wait for Lillian before making any of those decisions, but the men around me have already grown quiet at two new attendees.
Standing in the doorway are two women with a shared look that could kill.
“Now, why on earth have you gone to all this trouble to start without us?” Margaret asks, pulling away from Lillian. She runs a finger down the map on the table before turning back to the only other woman on the boat. “Did you know they ran such a boys’ club here on the Black River?”
Lillian tears her eyes away from where she clearly saw the marked path to Margaret. “I had no clue.” She makes sure to put on a smile before joining us. Her fingers entwine as she leans over the table.
Margaret’s demeanor changes slightly. “Lillian and I were offered an equal spot at the table. Just because we are close to our goal does not mean you can shut us out now.” She checks her watch. “You don’t even have the excuse of us arriving late to this little meeting.”
Bruno is first to recover from being scolded. “Of course, ladies,” he says with his signature bow. “I suppose a few of us got ahead of ourselves.” I don’t miss how his eyes linger on Lillian to make sure she’s okay.
Stepping away from the table, I maneuver to Lillian’s side and take my spot beside her.
Be damned if I don’t support her through the rest of this.
I’ll be damned if I let another man be that for her from here on out.
I put my hand on the small of her back, just to prove my support.
She stiffens at first but quickly relaxes into it.
“I’m glad you could join us ladies,” James says through a puff of his cigarette. “Let’s continue on then. “We‘ll camp beyond the remains of the 1928 Bach Expedition camp before storming forward into the sphere of the mountain.”
Lillian goes stiff again. Time still hasn’t dulled the blade of the massacre.
We both still have nightmares about it. Trekking through that site will leave a further lasting impact, an impact that has already begun to tear and pull at Lillian.
I can feel the tension building, even though disembarkation is days away.
Even as I stroke her back in small sweeping movements with my thumb, nothing can be done to keep her in the present when the maps in front of her constantly pull her to the past and then thrust her to the future.
Lillian
As a glistening Amazonian sun sinks over the trees in a brilliant smear of orange and pink, I take in a cleansing breath.
The sound of this forest changing from day to night is the one thing that has managed to calm me since we charted our course.
The chorus of monkeys howling and the chirp of the Amazon River frogs mingle with the hoots of the potoo birds, sending me into relative steadiness.
It all easily drowns out the sounds of dinner and the churning of the boat’s engines.
I’d much rather be a part of the forest than any ship.