“Si. Manuel and his lady friend regaled me with entertainment.”
Raylyn glanced ahead and noted the way Manuel and his lady friend, Maria, had their heads together. Giggles struck the air. A smile tilted her lips. “I can see that.”
Alfonzo smiled. “It is not that I begrudge my brother happiness. It is just I wish for some of my own.”
Raylyn gulped. His hand moved toward hers, and she hastened to shove hers in her sweater pocket. Awkwardness pervaded, and she wished for a distraction. Fortune shone on her when others approached and spoke with Alfonzo.
Raylyn fell back as the congregates rounded the corner. A collective gasp rent the air. A lady screamed. Flames rose to the sky, and black smoke thickened before them. The ensuring heat felt as if it seared her skin and singed the hair on her arms. She shielded her eyes with her forearm.
A muscular arm hugged her middle and jerked her backward against a well-defined chest. Jack whispered in her ear. “You must lead these people away. Take them home, take them to the apartment building, just take them from here.”
She twisted in his arms. Thick smoke caused her to cough. Swallowing, she held his lapel. “What about you?”
He cupped her cheek. “I will see you soon.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. She didn’t want to leave him, not even for a second. What if something happened to him?
She blinked away tears, and placed her hand on his cheek. She pulled her hand back and faced those with her. “We must return home. The firefighters will fight the blaze, and we don’t want to hinder them.”
While she led the small group, she noticed that Manuel, Alfonzo, and Jack stayed behind. They were soon absorbed into the crowd of helpers and disappeared from view.
****
Sparks flew through the air and landed on the arm of his jacket. Jack slapped them out over and over, yet they continued to rain upon him. The firefighters directed them to a line, and they passed buckets of water. The hoses pumped at full capacity, but still the church burned.
Passersby mocked the efforts to stop the flames, even going so far as to throw glass bottles at the workers. Jack balled his hands and stepped toward the crowd of dissidents only to have Alfonzo stop him.
“It will do no good to provoke them. They have achieved their goal. If you try to fight, it will only make matters worse.”
Jack lowered his hand.
After hours of fighting the blaze, the fire died out, and the heat dissipated. The workers were thanked. The pastor sat forlorn, cradling his head in his hands. Parishioners expressed their condolences over the loss of the building, promising to rebuild.
With the flames doused, the helpers were ordered to leave. Jack waited for Alfonzo and Manuel. They prayed with the pastor, offering assurances. Finished, they joined him.
The mile hike along the narrow cobbled streets gave Jack time to think. And he asked, “Why did someone burn the church?”
Manuel responded, “This is not the first time.”
“What?” asked Jack in disbelief.
He shrugged. “It happens every few years. We are used to it.” He patted Jack on the back. “Do not worry. I have saved the plans of the church. We will start the rebuild tomorrow. You will see, we will be done in no time.”
Stunned, Jack didn’t reply. They reached the apartment complex, and several members of the congregation milled in the courtyard. One man stood before them, a Bible in his hands as he expounded on the Word in a loud voice.
Alfonzo, Manuel, and Jack found a seat at the rear of the crowd. The service ended, and several women led a congregational hymn. Raylyn stood off to the side. Men and women approached her, and Jack moved closer.
“Thank you for suggesting we have the service here.”
“Any time.”
“We should always remember that the early church didn’t meet in buildings. They met wherever they could. Thanks for the reminder.”
Raylyn nodded as each person complimented her on the idea to have service in the courtyard.
When they finished, Jack asked, “When did you decide to have church here?”
She shrugged. “On the walk home. Besides, a little fire shouldn’t keep us from worshipping.”
Pride swelled in his breast that he loved such a woman. Determined to make her as proud of him, he mentally ran through ideas for improving the church. They could choose materials that were fire retardant. Or they could—
“You look a million miles away,” Raylyn said.
“I was.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, placing her hand on his arm.
“I am.”
“Is the fire out?”
“It is.”
“I guess that will be your next assignment.”
“There are worse projects to work on.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Hey, what would you think about feeding these people?”
He cocked a brow.
“Oh, so that’s how you feel. I know we don’t have the five loaves and the seven fishes, but surely we can come up with something.”
“Indeed,” he said, squeezing her hand.
The stated solution involved those who lived in the surrounding area to gather all their readymade food from their homes, and bring it back to the complex so everyone could share. When the people returned, the entire courtyard filled with chairs and blankets. People lounged and shared a meal, laughing and enjoying each other’s company, the burnt church already a distant memory.
“We will rebuild tomorrow, señor Williams.”
“I expected nothing less, Manuel.”
“I will pull out the plans, and you can come over and review them this afternoon.”
“Of course.”
“And you may come as well, chiquita,” said Alfonzo with a wink.
Jack bristled as Alfonzo used the endearment toward Raylyn. Did the doctor use it to mean little girl or baby? What were his feelings toward Raylyn? Had they changed since he and Raylyn had grown closer, or had Raylyn not revealed that she had feelings for him?
“I think I’ll just stay in tonight,” said Raylyn.
“Oh, do not say that. Maria will be joining us.”
“I really do need to catch up on my sleep.”
Alfonzo let the subject drop. When it was time for him and Manuel to leave, he kissed the back of Raylyn’s hand. “Until tomorrow, mi dulce.”
Jack started to rise from his chair, but Raylyn squeezed his thigh underneath the table. Alfonzo and Manuel left the courtyard, followed by the others. Soon they were alone. The endearment, my sweet, reverberated in his head until he felt like ramming his fist through the stucco-covered building.
“Would you mind helping me clear some of the tables?”
The sound of Raylyn’s voice drew his attention. He didn’t speak but stood and helped.
“I think that was a success. I can’t believe these people have had their church burned almost once a year since it opened its doors. Imagine just continuing to rebuild. I don’t understand why the law doesn’t intervene.”
“Probably happens too much,” he said between gritted teeth, forcing himself not to say what was really on his mind.
“You’re probably right. I wish there was something we could do. I know you’re going to rebuild the church, but I wish there was something more. It amazes me how, in America, we talk about this kind of thing like it is ancient history. No one seems to realize persecution is happening right now. There are people all around us that don’t have the option to worship freely.” She shook her head as she carried a load of plates and silverware to her apartment. A frown drew down her lips. “Half of these things don’t belong to me. Why did they just walk off and leave their stuff?”
“I guess we’ll just clean it and set it aside.”
“I guess so.”
They worked together to clean up the vast mess. By the time they finished, he was exhausted and needed a hot shower and a nap; however, the words he’d heard from Alfonzo in
relation to Raylyn played heavily on his mind.
His leg paining him, he stood in her doorway and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so tired I’m about to fall over, but I do need to talk to you.”
“Oh,” she said, lowering her gaze and chewing on her lower lip.
His heart rate sped up, and he looked above her head. “I’m going upstairs to clean up, maybe take a nap, and then I’ll be back. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
He left her standing there, wishing he’d had enough energy to get the talk over.
Chapter Seventeen
Worried, Raylyn paced. She bit her lip until she yelped with pain. Why had Jack acted so strange? Did his leg pain him? He had stood all afternoon and helped fight the fire. Or, was he ready to tell her he loved another?
The door jarred. Raylyn crossed over and jerked it open. Manuel entered, his arms flailing.
“You must come!” He tugged her hand and dragged her from the room. Bugs swarmed. Children laughed as they ran in circles, urging a dog to chase them. Smoke lingered from the earlier inferno, and she wondered how they’d missed the signs that morning.
Manuel’s grip tightened. His face red, his breath came in short raspy gasps. “Hurry! We must hurry.”
“Where are we going?” Raylyn stumbled and quickly righted herself.
“Alfonzo.”
Raylyn's heart thudded in her ears. Sweat beaded her brow as she urged Manuel to explain, but he only mumbled unintelligibly as they whisked along the sidewalk toward the Gomez home.
Brown circular spots dotted the gray cement sidewalk. They grew in size, the distance between them decreasing. Her pulse raced as they approached the covered porch attached to the back of the house.
A figure moved on a wicker lounge. Alfonzo rose on one elbow, but immediately fell back. “It’s you,” he whispered.
Raylyn gasped. A red stain seeped through Alfonzo’s black-smudged, white linen shirt. She rushed to his side and applied pressure to his shoulder.
“What happened?”
Blood seeped through her fingers, and she pressed harder. Manuel handed her a folded cloth, and she pressed it to the bullet wound.
Manuel answered, “He went to check on the church, and someone shot him. He insisted I retrieve you.”
She glanced at Manuel. He held his hands close to his body. He looked like a small child worried about a parent.
Raylyn said, “He needs to go to the hospital.”
“No, no hospitals,” Alfonzo said in a hoarse tone.
“But Alfonzo—“
“Just take me to the clinic. I will direct you.”
Alfonzo paled, and Raylyn bit back her arguments. “Help me get him inside the house.”
Manuel shouldered most of the burden as they escorted Alfonzo to his bedroom and stretched him across a bronze, caramel, and cream spread. Teak wood furniture decorated the space. A rickety fan circulated overhead. A shaft of light entered through the parted curtains. Dust particles drifted through the hot air, and Raylyn lost track of their route and focused on the patient.
Blood continued to seep from the wound. The towel absorbed the liquid, but didn’t staunch the flow. Raylyn bit her lip. What was she going to do?
Alfonzo lifted his chin and shot her a direct glance. He mouthed, “Please.” She knew he wished to stay away from the hospital.
She sighed and said, “Keep pressure on the wound. There is no way he can make it to the clinic, so I’ll gather what I need and bring it back here.”
Manuel didn’t argue as Raylyn left. She ran the short distance to the clinic. Blood rushed through her ears as her feet pounded the pavement. She hadn’t asked Alfonzo what she needed. Instinct would have to be her guide.
Raylyn reached the building, twisted the knob, and groaned. She’d forgotten the key! Beating against the heavy wooden door, she prayed for a miracle.
Fists sore, and chest heaving, she leaned back and planted her hands on her hips. She tapped her foot. Where was the extra key?
On her hands and knees, she flipped rocks and dug around plant roots in the well-landscaped flowerbed. Light glinted against a piece of silver, and Raylyn snagged the object and sighed with relief.
Inside the clinic, she headed to the back room and dug through the supply cabinet. Items gathered and thrown into a bag, she locked up and rushed back to Alfonzo.
By the time she arrived, he was barely lucid and babbled incoherently. She attempted to wash out the wound, but he fought her, slinging his arm and catching her in the face.
“He didn’t mean to,” cried Manuel.
Raylyn massaged her cheek and conceded defeat. “Look, I can’t help him. We have to get him to the hospital.”
“But, he said—“
She squeezed Manuel’s upper arms and gazed into his face. “Do you want him to die?”
Manuel shook his head.
“Then call an ambulance.”
****
Jack showered and lay down. The amputation site hurt worse today than it had in a long time. After a nap, he felt refreshed.
Downstairs, he knocked on Raylyn’s door. When no answer came, he peeked through a slit in the tan curtains. No one appeared. Where could she have gone?
He took a seat at a patio table and waited. Darkness descended, and his worry increased. He paced. Stones shifted beneath his feet. He should tell Manuel. Maybe they could add sand or concrete to level the pavers. His focus shifted. His mind whirled with fantasies regarding Raylyn. Could she have run to Alfonzo after he left? Was something wrong?
The imagination conjured images far worse than reality. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he set out. He double-timed the trip to Manuel’s, ignoring the pain in his amputation site.
The empty streets echoed his footsteps, and his heart mimicked the rhythm. Concern mounted as he arrived to find the door wide open. He leaned in and called. “Manuel?” No one answered. He entered. The floor was littered with pools of drying blood. Pain clenched his heart, and his stomach knotted.
The phone receiver lay off the hook. A busy signal echoed throughout the empty room.
“What’s going on?” he whispered to himself.
Maria skidded to a halt behind him. “We’re all riding to the hospital together. I found a bus. Come on!”
Jack didn’t question but followed Manuel’s girlfriend. Curiosity filled him as Maria ushered him to an overcrowded bus. The pastor from the burnt-out church led the riders in prayer. By the time they reached the hospital, Jack was more confused than ever.
Shirt covered in blood, Manuel hunkered in a plastic waiting-room chair. Maria rushed to his side and enveloped him in her arms. Others from the bus strode close and patted Manuel on the back. He acknowledged them with a tearful nod.
Secluded in a corner, Jack waited and worked to make sense of everything. What had happened? Where was Raylyn? Was she okay?
Driven by fear, he clasped his hands and approached Manuel. He cleared his throat and asked, “Where is she?”
Manuel swiped tears from his face and pointed a shaky finger at a door labeled Emergency. “She is with Alfonzo.”
Jack fell back in a seat as a team of nurses and doctors wheeled a gurney past the gawking spectators. Raylyn ran beside an incapacitated Alfonzo.
Double-doors labeled Surgery swung open, and Raylyn hung back. Jack sidled up beside her and laid his arm across her shoulders. Dried blood dotted her clothing. Jack swallowed and covertly sought signs of trauma. When she fell against his side and wept, he led them to a couch. She sniffed, and he smoothed her hair while waiting for her to explain.
Rubbing his hands along her arms and back, he found no signs of injury. The knots in his stomach unclenched.
Her shoulders stopped shaking, and she closed her eyes. Soft snores reached his ears.
More concerned individuals flooded into the room, and he was forced to scoot into the couch’s corner with Raylyn attached to his side.
Hours passed. Doctors and nurses e
ntered and exited but offered no updates on Alfonzo’s condition. Manuel wrung his hands and shook his fist at the ceiling. Maria urged him to rest, but he paced, seemingly unable to comply.
Raylyn rose and rubbed her eyes. “Any word?”
“None.”
She sighed.
“Can I ask what’s going on?” he asked.
Quickly, she shifted her eyes to his face. “No one told you?”
“No.”
Raylyn proceeded to explain what little she knew. “Alfonzo returned to the church to check on people in the neighborhood, when a masked gunman stepped from the bushes and started shooting. Alfonzo avoided all the shots but one.”
“Where was he hit?” Jack massaged her fisted hands. She relaxed her death grip, and he cradled them.
“I thought he was hit in the shoulder, but now I’m not so sure.”
She turned her head. Light struck her face. A purple bruise covered her cheekbone.
“What happened to you?” asked Jack, forcing down his growing ire.
Raylyn touched the area and grimaced. “I’m afraid Alfonzo caught me while I cleaned his wound.”
Jack gently held her chin and twisted her face to get a better look. He whistled under his breath. “Did a doctor look at it?”
She shrugged off his hold. “It’s just a bruise. I’ll be fine.”
Jack bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He wanted to caress the bruised skin and wipe away any pain. He gulped. “So what now?”
“We wait.”
Supper passed, and Jack left and returned with a meal. As he spread food over the table, a doctor entered. Those in the room rose collectively.
The doctor lifted his hands, and the crowd quietened. “Alfonzo is out of surgery.”
The group sighed.
“But he still has a long road ahead. The bullet was lodged between two bones, and his body endured extensive damage.” The doctor spoke a few minutes more before exiting the room.
Manuel was drawn aside as the crowd engaged in subjective banter.
Emerald Street Page 11
