The apartment was ten times better than his first place had been. Military-base housing had been full upon his arrival at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, and he’d found a place to rent that housed a group of single men. Given his own bedroom, which was hardly big enough for a bed, he’d been forced to share everything else.
Sure the apartment’s kitchen was tiny, and everything fit in one room, but the openness of the area made it feel larger, roomier. He didn’t have to walk out to the balcony to change his mind. And he could stretch his arms to their full length and not touch both walls at the same time. That was a definite plus.
Jack unpacked, then settled in the wooden chair behind the desk. A window faced the city. From there, he could just make out the tops of city buildings and church spires.
Tomorrow would likely bring a full day’s work. Manuel offered to bring him a supper meal, and he had gratefully accepted. Being new meant he had no idea where to purchase simple items. He also didn’t know what he should and shouldn’t eat or whom he could trust. One thing he did know was Don’t drink the water. Amazing how one phrase could be drummed into everyone’s thoughts so easily.
He flipped on the television. Gray, fuzzy static covered the screen. He turned it off, grabbed his jacket, and headed to the balcony. He peered over the railing and into the courtyard below.
Water trickled from an ornamental fountain. Scraggly looking shrubs dotted the surrounding landscape. Ignoring the details, he descended the cast-iron stairs. At the bottom he halted. A lady stood on the tiled patio. Jack sucked in his breath, and his heart beat rapidly against his ribs. She lifted her chin and looked at him.
“Raylyn,” he whispered. He felt lightheaded and fell against the railing for support.
She blinked rapidly and placed a shaky hand over her heart.
Unsteadily, he moved toward her. Was he dreaming?
A strange man came from behind her and offered his hand. “I’m Alfonzo. My brother Manuel retrieved you from the airport today. His description of you was faultless.”
Jack licked his lips and forced the polite words from his constricting throat. “I’m Jack Williams. Nice to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Alfonzo faced Raylyn. “This is Raylyn Morrison, our new nurse.”
Jack proffered his hand. She studied it. Her throat worked as she swallowed, before clasping his hand firmly.
So that was how she wanted to play it. Two could play at that game. He asked, “How do you do?”
A look of surprise flashed across her face. She answered, “Fine,” and quickly pulled her hand back to her side.
Alfonzo, seemingly not noticing their awkward exchange, clapped. “Now that we are all introduced, let’s journey to my home for the afternoon meal.”
Alfonzo took the lead. Raylyn stuck to his side, and Jack walked behind them with his hands in his pockets. He tried to pay attention to their route, but he was distracted by Raylyn’s presence. What was she doing in Chiapas? Why was she with Manuel’s brother? Alfonzo had called her the new nurse. Had she volunteered in the mission field as well?
He scratched his forehead and tried to focus as they skirted the courtyard’s edges and reached a sidewalk lining a narrow street. After one block, Alfonzo parted a hedgerow, and they entered a private garden at the rear of a Mexican-style hacienda.
Carefully they wound around the decorative landscaping until they reached a back door. The scent of frying tortillas wafted through an opening, and Jack inhaled.
Alfonzo lifted his hand for them to enter before him. He said hello to his brother as they passed through the kitchen and into a separate dining area. “While Manuel finishes preparing the meal, why do we not sit and learn about one another, eh?”
Alfonzo pulled out a chair for Raylyn. She settled without glancing at Jack. He took the opposite seat and clasped his hands in his lap. He wanted to rush to her side and declare his undying love. To beg her forgiveness for any slight he’d done against her. To have her share hours of stories about her life from the past two years.
But she’d taken off during his time of greatest need and left him to recover alone. Shouldn’t she be the one to say something first? He bit the inside of his cheek. What would he say to her?
Jack and Raylyn remained silent, and Alfonzo frowned. “I hope you don’t plan to remain so quiet with the people in the ghetto.”
Manuel entered and placed piping hot dishes before them. “This is a traditional Chiapas dish — tamale de juacané. Please, eat.”
No one moved, and Alfonzo used a wooden spoon and dished a portion onto Raylyn’s plate. Her face flushed, and she bowed her head.
Plates filled, Alfonzo prayed, offering thanks for the new workers and asking for a bountiful harvest. “The tamale is filled with black beans, shrimp, and pumpkin seeds with just a hint of chipilin mixed into the dough. I think you will like it.”
The men waited to eat until Raylyn took a bite. A smile lit up her face, and she gave a thumbs up.
Jack marveled at her ability to remain silent. This portended to be a long meal.
Manuel soon dispelled Jack’s worries. “We have only a few months before the rainy season. Our carpenter left many months ago, and we still have leaky roofs. Tomorrow you will assess each one and tell me your supply list. I will find you helpers.”
When Manuel finished his litany, Alfonzo began. “Raylyn, the clinic is close by. We will go there tomorrow, and you may begin.”
“Alfonzo is the doctor, so you have no worries of missing supplies. My brother is meticulous,” said Manuel with pride.
Raylyn patted her mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t realize you were the doctor.”
Alfonzo smiled. “Yes, I am the doctor. You and I will spend lots of time together.”
And the seeds of jealousy take root, thought Jack, as he struggled to swallow the spicy food and think of a way to have Raylyn’s attention directed toward him.
****
Raylyn suffered through the remainder of the meal by making polite conversation and avoiding Jack’s gaze. What was he doing here? Manuel indicated he was here to work in a repair capacity, but how was he going to scale rooftops? The progress reports she’d gleaned from friends at the rehab facility mentioned his limited success with the prosthesis, not a miracle. She gnawed her lip.
Beneath the veil of her eyelashes, she studied him. His shoulders were broad, and the muscles of his forearms showed through the fabric of his jacket. His black hair was longer than last she’d seen him. His eyes were still a vibrant blue. They reminded her of the sapphire she’d held in her hands in Sapphire Shoals.
Her palms sweated. What if Jack was at the gem festival? What did he think of her? He could have said he knew her when Alfonzo introduced them; why had he remained silent? Did he remember her or had something happened to affect his memory?
Could he be angry she’d left? Hadn’t Richard explained his idea that she stay away? Hadn’t Tabitha filled his mind and heart with her presence?
The air felt like it had been sucked from the room. She needed to get out of here. Excuses raced through her mind. Roland and Renee! The day had been filled with settling in, and she’d forgotten to call them. Bless them, they always seemed to save her from jams, even when they had no idea they did so.
Raylyn placed her napkin alongside her plate and scooted her chair. The three men stood. She said, “I hate to leave so early, but I must go. I need to call my aunt and uncle so they won’t be worried.”
“Of course,” said Alfonzo as he pushed his chair under the table.
“Oh no, don’t feel you have to escort me. I can easily find my way to the apartment.”
“I do not think it wise for you to walk alone in the dark, señorita.”
Jack interrupted, “I’m goin’ the same way. I’ll take her back.”
Alfonzo arched a brow but held his hand aloft. “Very well. Then I will see you in the morning, and we’ll walk to the clinic together.”
Raylyn thanked Manuel for the
meal. Her pulse raced, and she swallowed as Jack escorted her outside. Cool afternoon air struck her, and she pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. A breeze wafted around her as Jack’s thick jacket settled over her.
“Thanks,” she whispered and studied the ground. She couldn’t start a conversation with him now. All she wanted was to return to her apartment and pretend his presence was a dream.
He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.
They journeyed the few blocks in silence, and she waited for him to say something, anything. Her nerves were drawn tight like the strings on a violin bow. She gnawed her lip, and her gut twisted. Why didn’t he speak? Why didn’t he ask her where she’d been? Why didn’t he say something!
“Nice night,” he said as they neared the courtyard to their apartment building.
“Yes.” Did she want him to talk or not to talk? That was the question. He’d only been with her for an hour, and already she felt crazy.
The heels of their shoes tapped against the patio stones as they approached her door. Light reflected off the fountain water and lit Jack’s face. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, and his eyebrows were drawn tightly together. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or just trying to keep his opinions to himself.
The door to her apartment loomed before them. She should say something. She should break the ice. Perhaps even just to apologize for not visiting him in the rehab facility. But what if he didn’t remember that?
She’d watched him throughout the evening. There seemed to be no lingering effects from his voice box injury. His voice was clear and resonant with a thick southern accent that she hadn’t expected. The thought of his southern brogue made her smile. She could see him onstage, strumming a guitar and singing a popular country song. A frown tugged at her brow as she thought about all the girls in the crowd that would have fawned over him.
“You’re scowlin’.”
“What?” she asked, blinking.
“You’re scowlin’,” he repeated.
She scratched a spot between her eyebrows and tried to remove the expression.
“Did I do something?” he asked.
She shook her head.
They had reached her door. What now?
He held out his hand. She studied it and gulped.
“Can I have my coat?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” She pulled it off her shoulders and handed it to him.
“Thanks. Guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He turned on his heel and retreated upstairs. She followed his every movement, surprised to see his limp was only silently perceptible.
When he was out of sight, she let herself into her apartment and collapsed into a chair, unsure whether to be happy or sad that Jack had completely ignored their past.
Chapter Twelve
Jack couldn’t sleep. No matter what he did or how he positioned himself in the bed, he was uncomfortable. He would have blamed the mattress, but he couldn’t. It was him, or rather the woman in the apartment below him.
Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Every time he closed his eyes, a vision of Raylyn’s beautiful visage materialized. High-defined cheekbones, emerald-green eyes flattered by long dark thick lashes and highlighted by decorative glasses. Long brown hair feathered around her face. He groaned and punched his pillow. Trying to sleep was an effort in futility.
He rose from the bed, placed on his prosthesis, stumbled toward the door, opened it, and stepped onto the balcony. Moonlight filtered through the thick white clouds and struck the tiled patio. A lone figure strode through the unkempt garden. Realizing it was Raylyn, he drew in a deep breath and gripped the railing until his fingers ached.
His heart beat rapidly against his ribs. He should go to her and tell her how he felt. Tell her how he’d always felt. Since the moment he’d heard her voice, he’d been able to think of little else. The sweet, smooth melodious tone had awoken him from a coma.
He remembered a visit from Rory at the rehab facility…
“I see the staff is treating you well.”
Jack shrugged and stared out the closed window. Bright yellow roses blossomed outside, and their aroma drifted in on the cool breeze.
“You have to tell me what’s wrong, chap. The staff is concerned with your sudden relapse, as am I.”
Jack didn’t reply.
“Ah, it is the girl.”
Jack narrowed his eyes.
“Do not try to keep silent. I’ve already been told your voice therapy has worked miracles. I know you can speak, but you won’t. And I know it is because of the nurse who you left behind.”
“She hasn’t come to visit me,” he voiced in a raspy tone.
“Perhaps—“
“I’ve asked the staff about her, and she’s left town.”
“Hmm.”
“What did I do? Sh-she acted interested, and then she just disappeared.”
Rory studied his hands before answering. “Sometimes when we leave, it is beyond our control.”
“This is different from your situation. You were a young man. You’re parents controlled what happened to you. They made you leave Hannah.”
“True, they forced me to leave under false pretenses. But I had many opportunities to find Hannah and apologize, to try and reconnect, but I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
Rory stared out the window and swallowed. “I was afraid.”
“What was there to be afraid of?”
“Years of being apart made me worry she couldn’t or wouldn’t forgive me. I thank God every day for the chance I was given to prove myself wrong.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“You can try to find her, or you can wait. If it is meant to be then it will be…”
A nearby bell tolled the hour. Jack roused and looked out again into the courtyard. Raylyn was gone. With a heavy sigh, he reentered his apartment, fell into a seat, and reached for a book.
****
The next morning came early. Raylyn didn’t feel rested. She’d returned to her new home, contemplated the decisions that had brought her to San Cristóbal de las Casas, and then called Roland. He’d been happy to hear from her. When their call ended, homesickness had assailed her and she had felt like getting out of the enclosed apartment. She’d taken a moonlit walk around the complex, but had quickly returned inside when she’d felt like someone watched her.
She’d lain in the bed and attempted to get comfortable, only to find herself staring at the plastered walls. She’d analyzed color choices, patterns, everything and anything. Reasons for Jack’s sudden appearance flitted through her mind. Could he be following her? Why else would he volunteer to work in a hostile country? Why would he risk his health to rebuild homes for displaced Christians? None of it made sense.
In the wee morning hours, her lids drifted closed, and she enjoyed a short nap. The time ended all too soon, however, and she was roused by the sound of the alarm on the ancient clock radio.
She stood before the sink and studied her reflection. Black circles surrounded her eyes, and she dabbed powder there. Her hair cascaded down her back, and she swooped it into a ponytail. A spot of lip gloss, and she was ready.
A knock resounded on the door. She adjusted her glasses, looked out the window, and sighed when she noted Alfonzo.
“Good morning,” she said as she opened the door and invited him in.
“Good morning. Are you ready for your first day of work?”
“Yes,” she said fighting the tremble that threatened to enter her voice. She hid her fear by grabbing her bag. He exited, and she followed, making sure to lock the door.
Alfonzo said, “The clinic is close by. We provide services for the Christians who live here in the ghetto. Sometimes, if an injury is too severe, however, we direct them to the local hospital.”
They strolled through the narrow streets. People on bikes passed them and waved. Buses sped by. Taxis honked and man
euvered through the fading lanes.
“I am very grateful you’ve come to San Cristóbal. Many people do not see the need, but Christians are greatly persecuted in this area. Mostly we suffer prejudice and harassment, but there have been other incidents as well.”
Just like when Alfonzo had mentioned this before, he didn’t elaborate, and Raylyn mentally ran through all the things she’d heard while researching her assigned post. Things such as Christians being beaten, robbed, and raped. Many had lost their lives because they’d refused to conform. That is why they had all moved to one area of town. They felt safer together than apart.
“Here we are.”
They approached a building with a low ceiling. Bright green stucco covered the exterior. Narrow windows lined the front wall. A thick, wooded door creaked open at Alfonzo’s urging.
They entered, and he flipped light switches. Fluorescent bulbs brightened the room and reflected on the white tile.
Raylyn glanced over his shoulder. A counter, about a foot above her waist, greeted them. Behind it sat an ancient computer and a wall of filing cabinets. Alfonzo led the way through a set of swinging doors.
“You will be stationed here behind the counter. You will check in the patients and then search for their file. Once you have their information, you will do an initial evaluation with notes before sending them back to the lobby. I will take your notes and their file, review the information, and then call for them to enter a room.”
“So, there is no receptionist?”
“Sometimes, yes. Most of the time, no.”
Raylyn nodded. Alfonzo explained the computer system. Before he finished, the door opened, and an elderly man entered on the arm of a young woman.
Alfonzo raised his hand in greeting before shrugging his shoulders into a white lab coat.
“I will help you through the first one.”
The young woman approached. “My father has hurt his arm.”
“Name?” asked Alfonzo.
“Juan Mendez.”
Alfonzo shifted through folders, dragging out the appropriate one. Paperwork in hand, he directed the couple to a room off to the side. Raylyn followed.
Emerald Street Page 7
