Page 9 of Hopelessly Wild


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The moment our bodies submerge in the water, I wrap my legs around his hips, my arms around his neck, and I kiss him, knowing it’s the one way to simplify everything between us.

His lips meet mine in need. I still feel like an intruder despite Samuel’s words. The only way I could explain to the shaman and the chief my being here is like being a drug addict, and Samuel is the euphoria. They wouldn’t understand, but they may understand him as my ayahuasca. He heals me, takes me to a better place where our hearts are one.

* * *

The cuff of the sphygmomanometer tightens around my arm. Samuel listens through the stethoscope, then releases the valve and smiles. “All well.”

“I expect it to be. There’s no past medical history to think otherwise, and I eat healthily,” I say to minimize his concern. “Those watches and modern devices? Well, if I had one, I could check it myself.”

He writes the results on a notepad and closes it. “This is reliable. It only needs to be calibrated every five years. And I’m not relying on batteries or other energy devices for it to work.”

“Right.”

He stacks the notepad and the sphygmomanometer in a corner. “I want us to take a visit to Ciudad Guayana. You need to have an ultrasound and have some blood taken.”

“I had an ultrasound before I came. And blood. Everything is fine. I made sure of it first.” He gives me a look that says not to argue with him, but when he slips into doctor mode with me, I want to do just that—argue. “I have a good doctor. Or is it me you don’t trust?”

His eyes meet mine, and today he’s failing to hide his frustration even though only hours ago we made love. “I’m safeguardingourbaby.”

“What do the women do here?” I know the answer and want to hear him say it.

“You’re not Ularan.” He folds his arms over his chest. “They are used to giving birth with no medical intervention.”

“I’m here with you. I know you’ll look after me. I don’t want to waste time leaving for a few tests, then having to go through your self-enforced quarantine out there.” I point to the jungle where we hide out for days anytime we return to the camp. “That scares me. It’s unhealthy.”

His eyes widen. I should take his blood pressure.

“And you think your being here isn’t a risk to our baby? To you?”

“Maybe, but here women do it all the time, so I’m staying with the man I love,” I say with emphasis, almost desperate.

Samuel runs a hand over his cheek. “Your being here concerns me. I’m distracted, and so is shaman by Kaikare’s emotions that have stirred since you’ve arrived.”

I slide off the table and stand before him, so he has to look me square in the eye. “Fine. Blame me. Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he says the word so I barely hear him. “No, because I need you here more than I realize. I have purpose and feel like a person again.” He leans his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for my words to sound like you’re a problem. Only I’m surprised by how stressed I am about you and our baby’s well-being. I’m afraid if something goes wrong, I’ll be incapable of helping you. And the idea of failing you both will destroy me.”

I wrap my arms around his middle and rest my cheek on his hard chest. I let out a sigh when his arms snake around my back, pulling me closer to him. “I didn’t come here for you to protect me. I came here because it was the right thing to do. I need to be with you and will adapt and do whatever it takes to stay.”

For how long, I’m unsure. All I know is I want to be with Samuel as I’m a stronger person when I’m with him. Today, I’m brave, and I’m ready to take steps to remain in Ulara and have my baby here just like my grandmother. I blow out air slowly.

Shit. Is that a commitment I’m ready to make?

“Are we having dinner in the long house tonight?” I ask, ready to change the subject.

Samuel kisses the top of my head. “We are. The shaman will tell a story about a Kanaima spirit and why some crops were lost.”

“Well, they can’t blame me for the weather.”

When Samuel says nothing to reassure me, I squeeze my arms tighter. Maybe there’s more to his concern than he’s letting on. Maybe I look to him to protect me.

* * *

“Please stop,” I whisper to Samuel.

I didn’t want Samuel to translate the story further. It began in a roundabout way with the mountain spirit of the dead being unhappy, and the rain resulted from his unhappiness. I sit between Samuel’s legs with my head resting on his chest. I look around the gathering of Ularans, all eyes on the shaman, the star attraction wearing his red-feathered headdress like a king would a crown. They believe every word that comes from his mouth. He’s a healer, so they have no reason to doubt his word when, as Samuel has told me, he has performed miracles beyond what Samuel can medically explain.

Tonight, the shaman’s voice is louder than his calm, talking voice yet not theatrical. His tone has picked up an octave but not in emotion. He’s always cool-tempered. I don’t know if it’s the herbs because I seriously don’t understand how these people can be so calm all the time.

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