All the Way to Heaven

Chapter 38

We drove through small clusters of houses separated by short stretches of wooded hillsides, pulling over at will to take in the vistas before us. The orderly groves and orchards were fewer and farther between and the native flora pressed in on either side of the road. The wet summer had kept things growing and thriving much longer than usual, and everything was still green and lush, in spite of October being halfway gone already. But when there were breaks in the trees, the world lay spread out at our feet, and we didn't hesitate to stop and take it all in. The world seemed peaceful and timeless as we made our way along the mountain road. The sun arched up into the sky, stretching toward its zenith, casting an autumnal glow over everything before us. The constant presence of the Lima River ducking in and out of sight made me feel like we were dance partners, pressing together then pulling apart again.

After Romigi's sad story, we moved to gentler tales from our childhood, and when we'd been on the road for over an hour, Paulo voiced another question I'd been dreading all day.

"So, Ani. Do you have a boyfriend back home in America?"

The question in and of itself was harmless enough. I dreaded it because my answer would only lead to more questions, and I was so thoroughly enjoying myself that I didn't want to head down that extremely rocky road. I took a fortifying breath and let it out with my answer.

"No." I didn't look at him, but the silence in the truck made me want to cover my ears. And then my mouth to hold back the words that were inching their way forward from the back of my throat. I knew what he was trying to do by letting the silence linger. And my instinct was to fill that void with incriminating words. Finally, I simply threw it back at him.

"What about you? Do you have a girlfriend back home in America? Or here?" I still didn't fully understand the relationship between him and Madalina, but I didn't think they were officially an item.

"No."

Great. That worked like a charm. But as luck would have it, just then the river came into view again. I began expostulating on the whimsy and beauty of it, and Paulo, clearly as enthralled by it as he'd claimed to be, smiled broadly at my exuberance.

"I wish there was a way we could go down there," I sighed.

"Actually, we are almost to La Lima where we must leave the river behind. There is a place right before the town where we can get to the water. Would you like that? And maybe we will have something to eat while we are there." He patted the rattan basket beside him. "And I have a surprise for you when we get there."

Several minutes later, he veered the little truck off the highway onto a narrow road that zigzagged back and forth to rival Lombard Street in San Francisco. I just held on. We passed a few buildings, perhaps a few homes, and soon reached the end of the road that dumped us onto a grassy patch sloping down to the rocky riverbank. Paulo parked, came around to my side with my wheelchair, and held it steady for me while I managed to clamber into it with some finesse, Margarite's basket on my lap. He pushed me as far as he could before the ground under us became too soft and I made him stop and pull me back away from the pebbly sand to where the grass started. There was a sturdy looking table, but no bench, beneath a tree close by and he offered to park me in the shade, but I wanted to sit in the sun for a few minutes first.

"Sit and enjoy." Paulo took the food basket from me and set it on the ground beside my chair. I closed my eyes and tilted my face up to a gentle breeze.

We were the only people down there and the rushing sound of the river seemed to ebb and flow hypnotically around me. Nature's soundtrack. The leaves in the nearby trees swishing against each other, the burbling of the water where it ran shallow over rocks close to shore, a myriad of different bird songs punctuating the ceaseless motion of the current.