Rio Dulce， ]uly 1984<br > Carmelita watched the gringo through the wooden louvers of the<br >door. The damp heat of midday poured through the slats into the shade<br >of the kitchen， and she could feel it on her face and smell the perfume of<br >flowers and rotting jungle vegetation borne on the humid currents.<br >Rivulets of sweat trickled down her arms and the valley between her<br >breasts， braless under her cheap cotton shift. Despite the heat， the draft<br >chilled her wet skin， and she hugged her arms and shivered.<br > The gringo was lounging at the outdoor bar by the boat dock， drinking<br >rum and quinine water from a plastic glass. He wore dirty chino shorts，<br >canvas sneakers with no laces， and a frayed straw hat with a sun-bleached<br >cloth band that said "Nassau， the Bahamas" on it. The hat s brim was<br >tipped forward， hiding his long nose and his glass eye and the prominent<br >ridge of bone behind his eyebrows that gave him， with his long-waisted，<br >wiry frame， something of the appearance of a rat.<br > Carmelita had been alone at the Pension Izabal with the gringo since<br >the supply boat last came upriver three weeks ago. She had said her rosary<br >every day for all those days， and prayed every night to the Blessed Virgin<br >Mary to forgive her for the mortal sin she knew she must commit.<br >
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