Laughing, he pulled her up. He wasn’t sure where their relationship was headed, but he knew it would be an adventure.
34
Candlelight flickered on the table as Bailey held up her glass to touch Angel’s and Solana’s. A diamond sparkled on Solana’s left hand. “I’m so happy for both of you.”
“Wait, I want to do it too!” Maria lifted her water glass up, and they all lowered theirs to touch hers. “To my new mommy.”
Their glasses clinked, and Bailey smiled at the glowing couple. She’d enjoyed watching their relationship grow over the past two months, but seeing their love made her ache for Danny. At least she would be seeing him by the end of the week when she returned to Mississippi for a visit. A tremor went through her as she thought of the decision she’d made to remain in Mexico.
But first, she had a trip to make to Valle Rojo. She looked up as she realized Solana had asked her something.
“When do you leave for Mississippi?” Solana repeated.
“Friday.”
Maria climbed up in Bailey’s lap and put her hands on either side of her face. “Don’t go back to Mississippi.”
“I have to, but I’ll be back.”
“Soon?”
“Soon.”
Satisfied, Maria returned to her seat. “Is Uncle Danny coming back with you?”
“I don’t know.”
The next morning, Bailey arranged for a driver to take her to Valle Rojo. Miguel, her usual driver, was no longer in Chihuahua, and she wondered if he’d been part of the cartel. Her new driver was Arturo. She felt bad that he didn’t have family in the area as Miguel had—it would probably be a boring day for him. After a few unsuccessful attempts to draw her into conversation, he’d given up.
She wanted to use the two-hour drive to rehearse what she’d say to the pastor at the church. The board in Mexico had made it plain that he had to approve before they could reassign her to the village. But first, she wanted to visit Elena’s grave.
It should not have taken her two months to go to the village. She’d been busy, for sure, but busyness had only been an excuse for not facing Elena’s mother . . . and Father Horatio.
Just thinking about him dried her throat, but she knew she had to confront him if she was to get on with her life. He had to know he couldn’t run her off again. Scratch that. She had to know. They rounded a bend in the road, and Valle Rojo came into sight. It was a small village with scattered wooden structures, many that would be condemned in the States. But some of the houses, like the one Elena’s mother lived in, were adequate. The church was at the end of the road, and she pointed it out. “I’ll get out there,” Bailey said.
“Is that where you want me to pick you up?”
“Yes. I’ll call you.”
Bailey walked inside the church, surprised to hear the chattering of women coming from the back room. Curious, she walked that way, passing the pastor’s office. It was empty. When she opened the door to where they held church services, the sight of at least ten women with open Bibles and the pastor at the lectern dropped her mouth open. They had continued the Bible classes, even after Elena was killed. One of the women—Gabriela—spied her. “Bailey!” she squealed. Then in rapid Spanish, she cried, “Look who’s here. She’s come back!”
Pastor Carlos grinned when he saw her and motioned her in. “Bailey, it is good to see you!”
The women gathered around her, but Bailey had eyes for only one of them. Claudia, Elena’s mother. The women parted and allowed Bailey to walk to where Claudia waited.
She swallowed down the lump that threatened to choke her and took the older woman’s hands. “I’m so sorry about Elena.”
Tears filled Claudia’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. “She was so brave.”
Bailey drew her in an embrace, and they both stood, weeping in each other’s arms.
“She was a good daughter and mother,” Claudia said as she took a tissue from one of the other women.
“She was a good friend. Can you take me to where she’s buried?”
At first, Bailey thought she might refuse, then she nodded. “It’s not far. Then we come back here and talk.”
“Yes, I would like that.”
They walked to the edge of town to the small cemetery. From Elena’s grave, Bailey could see the mountains in every direction. Her friend would approve of the site. She stared at the simple tombstone, her anger building. “Is Father Horatio in jail?”
“No. There is no proof he killed her. The local authorities are saying it was the Calatrava.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
He couldn’t be. She wanted to confront him, tell him she was returning to the village, and this time he was not running her off. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Word went through the village that he was responsible for my Elena’s death, and that night someone burned his house down.”
Bailey turned so she could see Claudia’s face. “Do you know who did it?”
She shrugged. “No, and I don’t want to.”
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“No. He left with some of his thug friends. And he will not be back.”
Bailey didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. She brushed dust from the headstone. She would come back tomorrow before she returned to Chihuahua. “How is the church? The women who came to the tea parties?”
Claudia smiled. “Very good. Gabriela stepped into Elena’s shoes after . . .”
“The pottery classes—how about them?”
“Gabriela again. She has grown up.” Claudia lowered her voice. “I think she has her sights set on Pastor Carlos.”
“No!”
She nodded, her lips pursed. “They will make a good team.”
A team that would not need Bailey. Was God closing a door? She walked back to the church, her footsteps heavy.
Claudia grabbed her hand. “Come in—the women are anxious to show you what we’ve been studying and some of the clay pots we’ve made.”
Bailey allowed the older woman to pull her inside the plank building and down the hall where the women waited. She listened as Gabriela explained in her soft voice how they were studying the letters Paul wrote to Timothy. Excitement lit the young woman’s eyes.
“Come see the pots we have made.”
Bailey followed her to a small building. She caught her breath at rows and rows of brightly colored pots of all sizes. “They’re beautiful.”
“Some are coils and some are pinch pots, and these”—she pointed to several tall cylindrical vases—“are made using the kick wheel. But now we don’t know what to do with them.”
Bailey stared at the work the women had turned out. In the right hands—Danny’s hands—the women could make some real money. “I think I might be able to help. But it will take a couple of weeks before I’ll know.”
“That would be wonderful.”
Danny scanned the skies as he crossed the border into Mexico. He couldn’t wait to get on the ground and find Bailey. He smiled, imagining the look on her face when he showed up at her apartment. She was coming home in five days, but he hadn’t been able to wait another day to see her.
And he was anxious to see Angel. His friend had emailed him last night that he’d asked Solana to marry him and she’d accepted. Maybe they could have a double wedding. No, Bailey would probably want to get married in Logan Point.
But what if she wanted to live in Mexico? He’d prayed like she asked, and he’d kept reading the Bible that Kate gave him. And it had changed his heart. But was he willing to give up everything he knew to serve God in . . . wherever? It was one of the reasons he’d jumped in his plane and flown to Mexico.
Maybe once he was there, he could see what made Bailey want to be there. And that was the vibe he’d gotten lately. That she wanted to return to Valle Rojo. Did the small village even have electricity and running water?
Two hours later, he parked the rental car outside Bailey�
��s apartment building and bounded up the steps to the second floor and her apartment on the end. He knocked on the door and then smiled in anticipation of her opening the door. Except she didn’t open the door. Two doors down, a young Mexican woman came out of her apartment with a basket of clothes, and he called out to her.
“Uh, do you know where Miss Adams is?” he asked in Spanish.
The woman set her basket down and approached him. Her wary expression gave way to a smile. “You are Danny!”
He stepped back. “Um, yeah, but how did you know?”
“She has your photo on the table. And she talks about you.”
Good, he hoped. “Do you know where I can find her?”
“She went to somewhere in the mountains—the village where she used to teach. I don’t remember the name.”
“Valle Rojo?”
“Yes. That is it.”
“Do you know how long she was going to be there?”
“A day or two.”
Air whooshed from his lungs. He should have let her know he was coming. “Thank you.”
He trudged back to his car and climbed in. Maybe Angel knew where the village was. He fished his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his number.
“Hello?” Angel’s voice was guarded.
“It’s me, Danny. How are you, my friend?”
“Danny! Where are you?”
“In front of Bailey’s apartment, unfortunately.”
“But she’s in Valle Rojo.”
“I know that now. Do you know how to get there?”
“Yes, but it is a two-hour drive.”
“Could I land my plane there?”
Angel laughed. “Only if you are ready to die. Come to the plant and we will discuss how to get you there.”
Later that evening, Bailey walked through the village, enjoying the peace and tranquility that had not been there before. Even the men seemed more friendly. Too bad it was a good-bye walk.
With deliberate steps, she made her way out of town and to the cemetery, where she stood at Elena’s grave again. She wished she had a bouquet of flowers to leave.
Bailey knelt beside the grave marker. “I feel I failed you,” she whispered. “I hope you can see what you started and how it’s grown. Your friends are doing so well, I don’t think I’m needed here. So I guess this is good-bye.”
She slipped the ring box from her pocket and opened it. The diamond glittered against the velvet, and she took it out of the box. Peace filled her heart. She took a deep breath and slipped the ring on her finger. No doubts plagued her. She sat quietly for a while longer, then stood and brushed the dirt from her knees.
She turned and gasped. “Danny?”
She must be seeing things. She blinked to clear her eyes, but he was still there, walking toward her. She ran to him, and he opened his arms.
“I hope you’re not upset, but I couldn’t wait another day to see you.”
She lifted her face. “I would never be upset with you. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Danny’s gaze slid to her hand, and his breath hitched. He looked into her eyes. “Are you sure?”
Bailey bit her lip and nodded. “I love you, and I would be honored to be your wife.”
His lips captured hers, and she slid her arms around his neck, kissing him back with all her heart.
Acknowledgments
As always, to God, who gives me the words.
To my family and friends, who believe in me.
To my editors at Revell, Lonnie Hull DuPont and Kristin Kornoelje, thank you for making my stories so much better. To the art, editorial, marketing, and sales team at Revell, thank you for your hard work. You are the best!
To my agent, Mary Sue Seymour, thank you for believing in me.
To my readers, thank you for taking a chance on a new writer and then coming back for my other stories.
Patricia Bradley is a published short story writer and is cofounder of Aiming for Healthy Families, Inc. Her manuscript for Shadows of the Past was a finalist for the 2012 Genesis Award, winner of a 2012 Daphne du Maurier Award (first place, Inspirational), and winner of a 2012 Touched by Love Award (first place, Contemporary). When she’s not writing or speaking, she can be found making beautiful clay pots and jewelry. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Romance Writers of America and makes her home in Corinth, Mississippi.
Books by Patricia Bradley
LOGAN POINT
Shadows of the Past
A Promise to Protect
Gone without a Trace
Silence in the Dark
www.ptbradley.com
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