Page 12 of Hopelessly Wild


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“Eden.” Samuel comes to me. He smiles from ear to ear. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. If there’s something wrong, I’ll tell you.” I squeeze his hand. “Please stop worrying about me.” I point to the garden. “Did you make the signs?”

“Yes.” He takes my hand, and we walk a few steps to the first sign.

Banisteriiopsis Caapi. Underneath it readsAyahuasca vine.

Next isPsychotria Viridis.Underneath readsChacruna DMT.

I smile at him. “This is where you grow your plants for the special tea?”

“Some, yes.” He takes my hand and leads me to a deep purple flower growing on top of stones with minimal soil. “This is the flower I picked from the tepui when I left you…” he stalls on the last word. “I sent samples away and kept some. Despite the rain, it has survived. It’s a breakthrough.” His gaze is fixed on the plant as though it’s a million dollars left on the ground for someone to find.

The shaman continues to sing from behind us, and I turn to see Kaikare picking the vine. “Another ceremony?”

“The warriors are heading out on a hunt. They haven’t eaten meat in weeks.”

“Will more boys be initiated?”

“Not tonight.”

“Good. I don’t have the stomach to sit through that kind of ceremony,” I murmur.

“Are you nauseous?” His beautiful eyes study my face.

“No more than I was back home in the first trimester.” My hand lifts to my stomach and rubs gently as though to calm my child. Samuel’s gaze lowers and lands where my hand rests.

“Have you thought any more about taking a visit to Ciudad Guayana?”

“We can chat about it tonight among other things.”

“About a hospital visit?”

“No.” I steel myself, ready for his reaction. “About your family.”

His eyes meet mine, and there’s a fury there I’ve never seen before. “I told you before my family isn’t up for discussion.”

“And since our child has your family’s blood pumping through his or her veins, it’s up for discussion. I don’t want to skirt around this anymore.”

I follow Samuel’s gaze over my shoulder. Only now do I realize the shaman has stopped singing.

“Here isn’t the place,” he says in a softer tone. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yes, you will.” I give him a look that my father used to give me when I needed pulling into line.

Kaikare walks over and takes my hand. A smile is on her face. I know she smiles a lot. Is it because I’m standing up to the men?

* * *

I’m in the hammock, clutching my grandmother’s diary when Samuel enters the hut. He creeps around, seemingly unaware my eyes are open and watching him. His blond hair is ruffled like I have run my fingers through it, and I imagine him doing just that as he concentrates or right before he decides on something. I’ll never tire of simply looking at him. Admiring him. Even the way the muscles in his back contract when he moves those glorious arms. His long legs, muscular but lean thighs and calves like a marathon runner—they are so lickable.

It would be an effort to get back up when I’m on the ground, but still, it would be worth it.

Samuel rearranges objects on the bench before turning, creeping a few steps, and freezes. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“I wasn’t asleep. Only resting before I help with dinner. I was appreciating the view.”

“Are you up to it?”

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