Delora's Necklace

By Susan Blexrud

Delora's ancient Mayan necklace has a mind of its own. Drawn by a primordial force she can't deny, this Mexican-American woman books a weekend trip to the Yucatan Peninsula to reconnect with her Hispanic heritage. She gets more than she bargained for when she is propelled back in time 900 years to a husband she didn't know she had and a culture intent on sacrificing her to the gods.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DCL Publications
• Release date: Apr 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781921347849

Susan Blexrud

Susan Blexrud is the author of numerous romance novels, including Valentine Vote, His Fantasy Maid, and The Gettysburg Vampire. When not researching and writing her next story, she can be found bird watching, quilting, reading, or attending Zumba and Yoga classes. She divides her time between the mountains of Western North Carolina and the flatlands of Orlando.  

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DELORA’S NECKLACE

By

Susan Blexrud

DCL Publications, LLC

www.thedarkcastlelords.com

© 2009 by Susan Blexrud

All rights reserved

First Edition January 2009

DCL Publications

36 Monash Street Melton South Victoria Australia

3338

www.thedarkcastlelords.com

ISBN 978-1-921347-84-9

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

PUBLISHED IN AUSTRALIA

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Author: Blexrud, Susan.

Title: Delora's necklace/ Susan Blexrud. Edition: 1st ed.

ISBN: 9781921347849

Dewey Number: 813.6

Chapter One – Surprise at El Castillo

Delora stuffed her turquoise bikini into her carry-on and zipped it shut with finality. She turned to her mother. I’m going. Case closed.

Why now? What’s so important you can’t wait until finals are over? Theresa wrung her hands on her apron.

I don’t know, Mom. I just have to go. Delora plied her mother with a determined stare, which seemed to have little effect. She took a swig of her Diet Coke, and redirected her gaze to the old swingset outside the kitchen window.

Theresa hesitated a moment, and then said, There are strange forces around that pyramid, and those steps are dangerous.

You act like I’m some delicate little thing. How do you think I got all those track trophies? She pulled her mother to the kitchen window. Remember me flying off that swingset? I bounced off the ground. The kids didn’t call me ‘Scrappy-Do’ for nothing.

Theresa nodded and smiled at her only child. Just promise me you’re not thinking about moving to Mexico.

No, Mom. I like Miami, but you have to be Cuban to get any respect here. She rubbed the bump on the bridge of her Mayan nose that clearly indicated she was not Cuban.

I still don’t like the idea of you going alone, Theresa said.

Delora kissed her mother’s forehead, and then brought her in for a big hug. It’s just a little weekend trip, she assured her. But she knew in her heart it was much more.

* * * *

Delora contemplated the ninety-one steps before her, rubbing her necklace between her fingers. Standing at the base of the pyramid, the steps ascended some seventy-nine feet. You could get dizzy from the mere prospect. She looked around for other visitors, but the ruins at Chichen-Itza were deserted this time of day. She’d be climbing alone.

Something had compelled her to make this trip. She’d been resisting the small voice in her head that was urging her to reconnect with her Hispanic roots, but when she heard the Mexican government would soon prohibit the treacherous climb to the top of El Castillo, she booked her trip. She needed one last ascent because not only was she a Mexican-American woman: she was Mayan.

She took several deep breaths of the clear April air and began to climb. By the time she reached the top, she was as winded as she would be at the finish line of a track meet. A cool breeze reached her from the north, and she took a few steps forward to center herself before turning to capture the view. As far as she could see, in every direction, the Yucatan Peninsula was blanketed by dense, green jungle where jaguars still roamed the land. She also had a clear view of the other Mayan ruins in this archeological wonderland.

She turned from the view to walk toward the temple at the apex of the pyramid.

As she approached, an alluring, musky fragrance wafted through the temple arch and sent shivers up her spine. From an inner chamber, a deep voice echoed, Delora. Who knows I’m here? She peered into an arched doorway of the small temple, where a magnificent vision emerged from the shadows. Before her, in a skimpy leather thong, stood a tall, striking man of about her age, bare feet planted shoulder width apart leading up to muscular legs, narrow hips, and a washboard stomach. A broad chest and toned arms completed this perfect image. His black, shiny hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his body radiated a rich bronze. Above a characteristic Mayan nose and full lips, his dark eyes gleamed. When he spoke again, she realized he was more than a vision.

Delora, he said, you are returned to me.

The language was foreign, yet somehow she understood him.

Who the hell are you? Astonishing herself, she answered in the same language, which used fewer words than English or Spanish. Her hand went to her throat to restrain the slightly guttural quality. And where was her southern accent?

You do not know me? He reached out to touch her arm, but she recoiled.

Look, if you’re from the travel agency, you should know that I didn’t pay for any extras. I’m here on a strict budget, and you look like a serious perk. She thought for a moment. How did you know my name?

He laughed. There will never be another with your name. Tell me if this is not so?

My father said it’s an ancient Mayan name. It means ‘fearless’.

Yes, I know, he said, smiling. It is written on your necklace. Pointing at her neck, he approached her. It is also written on my soul. He clutched his chest.

Whoa, back up there, big guy. Delora stepped back from his approach, noting the significant bulge in his thong. She touched the necklace she considered her trademark to steady herself. It was a simple piece; just a small and flat, rectangular lump of gold on a twenty-four inch chain with her name written vertically in Mayan hieroglyphics. It had been a gift from her grandmother on her fifteenth birthday. Selma had told her then that the necklace possessed magical powers.

She figured this guy had to be a tour guide, and she made a mental note to write a letter to the Mexican Department of Tourism to commend them on their authenticity, though she would also suggest a bigger budget for costumes. That thong could give an unsuspecting tourist a serious case of heart palpitations.

You sure look authentic, Delora said, and I guess you’re speaking some ancient language, but what I don’t understand is why I can speak it.

It is the tongue of your ancestors. The language you know from your heart.

I’ve heard of speaking in tongues, she said, but I never thought I had that gift. If I remember, your tongue has many gifts, he said.

Delora narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. Okay, I get it. You’re from an escort service. She laughed. You’ve got the wrong girl, but just out of curiosity, how much do you charge for…whatever you do? Given his devastating appearance, she figured it must be big bucks.

I do not understand. He looked to the horizon, seemingly for guidance.

Oh, please. How would you know anything about me?

I know everything about you. Come, you will recall the beauty of our city at dusk, and we will bid the sun goodnight. He stepped aside and gave Delora a wide berth as she cautiously inched her way backward, never taking her eyes off him. When she reached the steps, she turned to face a view very different from the one she had seen just moments ago. Laid out before her at the base of the pyramid was a ceremonial Mayan city, completely intact. The ancient ruins she had so recently observed were now restored to their original splendor. In place of facades of crumbling gray limestone, the surface of the buildings was painted red.

No, now really, where are the projectors? Delora scanned the walls for signs of technology that could be producing this incredible sight.

Pro-jec-tors? What are these pro-jec-tors of which you speak? He followed Delora’s gaze.

Delora felt light-headed. I need some water. She eased herself down to a sitting position and hugged her knees.

He produced a leather pouch, uncorked it, and handed it to Delora. Fresh spring water, he said. You will remember the taste.

Delora’s breath was shallow, labored. She sniffed the water to make sure it wasn’t something sinister and then took a tentative sip. She began a rhythmic breathing exercise to calm herself, never taking her eyes from the handsome stranger.

Yes, my love, drink the calming water and breathe deeply. He sat across from Delora, but not too close.

Look, Mr. Mayan whoever you are, you may think you know me, but I’m not who you think I am. My name is Delora Melendez. I live in Miami, Florida. I’m a meteorology student at the University of Miami, and I have a boyfriend named Alberto. In a few minutes, I’m going to ease myself back down these steps, head to my hotel, take a long, hot shower, and get as far under the covers as I can crawl.

I do not understand where you live or what you do in your new life, but listen to me. His rich baritone voice lowered a few notches. The future is divinely decreed and cannot be changed. You were destined to return.

I don’t believe in destiny. Delora looked at him under her eyelashes. Yes, you do.

Are you making this up as we go along or is this some well-rehearsed script? Delora felt the beads of perspiration rise on her forehead and upper lip. See what you’ve done? You’ve got me sweating, and I never sweat.

It is just like the first time we met, he said with a smile. We were a little younger, and you wore a bright yellow dress with an orange sash. I plucked a red hibiscus flower and tucked it behind your ear. You laughed and found an identical flower for me. Then we stood close to each other, and little beads of water appeared on your forehead. Well, that’s all very sweet, but I think I should be going now, Delora said. She tried to stand on her unsteady legs, thought better