CHAPTER 6
He was in the center of town, by one of the plush hotels. He watched her for so long as she left that he was barely aware of the people in rich costumes going by him, dressed in high Renaissance apparel. English, German, Portuguese, and more languages could be heard in constant and heady murmurs; a grand ball was being held somewhere nearby that night.
And yet, even as the lavishly costumed group moved by him, he heard a drumbeat; a parade float was approaching. A handsome man and women in a colorful tribute to colonial native wear were dancing atop the float. They called out to the crowd. Music poured from a boom box on the float; it was good and it was catchy and people in the street danced and laughed with them. Even those who were so richly garbed, heading into their posh ball.
River smiled. The beauty of Rio was in the people, in the beat, in the fact that the rainforest encroached on the city, just as the native pulse of freedom forever touched upon all that might be rigid and structured.
A middle-aged woman grabbed hold of his hand; he was suddenly jumping to the beat of the samba himself in the middle of the road. Partners swirled and turned and traded—he danced with a teenage girl, and then a youth in drag. He didn’t care; the youth didn’t either. They both laughed. Breathless, River broke away at last. He was happy—exhilarated.
It was Rio.
And he had found Natal.
He would see her the next day. And that sent his heart soaring. He would be careful; he wouldn’t cling to her. He would force himself to remember that they were both free spirits—and that meant that he couldn’t pin her down or make demands.
But just thinking of her …
He realized he was standing dead still while others danced around him, a stupid smile on his face.
He gave himself a mental shake and began the walk back to Beluga’s hostel.
CHAPTER 7
“You’re whistling,” Beluga told him the next morning.
“I am.”
“So, let’s see. There’s only one reason a man whistles like that. A woman,” Beluga said sagely.
“You told me to find a woman. Beluga—you need to find a woman.”
Beluga laughed. “Maybe. But I’m a happy man. I’m at peace with who I was—and who I have become. I like people and people come to me. I make them happy; that makes me happy.”
“There must be something in the air here, in Rio. It’s Brazil, city of joy, right?” River said lightly. “Our friend Thiago—he’s happy too. He never has money—except for the track—and he’s always happy.”
“Thiago learned to survive on the streets. He doesn’t hate money; he just knows that he can survive without it. If he had it—he’d give most of it away.”
“Best thing to do with money,” River assured him. “Except for what you need, of course.” He wasn’t a big believer in money—but he did want enough to keep Convict fed now, and to buy coffee or vinho and bread and cheese when he was with Natal.
“Ah, well—the burden of life. Yes, we need so much. But I learned years ago, my friend, that the more you have, the more you spend. The more you spend, the greater your debt. Then, suddenly, you’re a slave to money. So, Thiago is smart. He will never be a slave to money. If he ever has it, he will be good with it—he will give it away. But … he’s not so good at the track!” Beluga broke off, laughing. “He will probably never have it. And still, he’ll be a happy man. And you are happy today. So tell me—where are you off to? The track again? Will you see Theo?”
“I’m going to the beach,” River replied.
“A good thing to do in Brazil. But leave me the dog again. People can get picky and nasty sometimes. Convict, he does well with me. Though maybe he loves Maria more. She has better scraps of food!”
River laughed. “Today, okay, if that’s what you wish. But, you know—”
“You owe me nothing. I can feed a dog.”
“I’m not sure if I’m coming back tonight,” River warned.
“Of course you’re coming back. This is more or less your home right now—even if you’re wandering and seeing the sights. But,” Beluga wagged a finger at River. “When I don’t know for sure, I can’t save you a bed.”
River grinned. “Beds are kind of like money, Beluga. If you’re accustomed to not having a bed, you don’t have to have one.”
Beluga didn’t return the smile. Instead he studied River, concern in his eyes. “You’re really going to the beach?”
“Yes. Why?”
His friend hesitated for a moment before replying, “I worry about you—because of what you feel about Tio Amato.”
“Oh.” River felt his face burn and quickly lowered his head. Something did need to be done about Tio Amato. He had forgotten about the man, forgotten everything but Natal.
And the thought of being with her again.
What if he did go to the police? Even if they were honest and honorable, what did he say to them? I think I saw Reed Amato have a body thrown off the bridge?
There was no way to prove anything.
Maybe, with Natal, he would think of something.
“I’m not going near Tio Amato today—I promise you. I’m going to the beach. And when I make my way back, I’m going to dance in the streets with all the Brazilians who love the samba music so much.”
“Then go with God, my boy. I will trust Him to watch out for you—because He knows that it must be Him to take care of you, because you are so reckless.” Beluga rolled his eyes.
River sipped his coffee, too anxious to eat the food that Maria offered him. He thanked her with a kiss on the cheek, and she flushed, happy.
Convict intercepted him on the way out, head up, tail wagging. Gone was the frightened, abused creature that River had rescued only two days ago. River knelt before him, taking the dog’s head in his hands and touching it to his forehead. “Hey buddy,” he murmured. “Stay put today, okay?” Convict licked his nose, and River laughed, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears before leaving the dog to his new home.
*