“Just can’t get enough of you,” she said in a light-hearted manner.
His eyes darkened, and she looked away.
They arrived at the coastal town of Boca del Cielo. Several structures had collapsed and washed away in the storm. Those that remained were being used as shelters. Men, women, and children struggled to enter. Officers kept the groups moving in an orderly fashion.
Off the truck with their meager belongings, Raylyn and Jack didn’t join the refugees; instead, Jack led them to a row of dingy yellow cabs.
A driver stepped forward. “You need ride?”
“Yes, we need a ride to San Cristóbal.”
The driver clicked his tongue. “No, no. Road is rough.” He rubbed his thumb across his forefinger and middle finger.
Raylyn whispered in Jack’s ear, “Is he asking for extra money?”
“Yep. He’s asking for the stash, the moolah, the mucho dinero.”
The driver smiled at the last phrase and held his palm out.
Raylyn attempted to drag Jack away, but he wouldn’t budge. He explained, “All the drivers will be the same. If we have to return to San Cristóbal today, then we’ll have to fork over the extra cash.”
“Maybe someone could come pick us up?”
“Like who? Manuel’s truck is destroyed. Alfonzo’s laid up, and—“
“What about Juan? He seems resourceful. Perhaps—“
“Perhaps we can figure this out without using him.” His posture was rigid, and he ground his teeth.
“Are you jealous?”
“What?”
“Are you jealous of Juan?”
“Jealous of Juan? Why would I be jealous of him?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he is a big flirt.”
“You mean because he keeps coming onto you?”
The frankness of his statement caught her off guard.
He leaned in close. “I’m not worried about him, but if you want me to act jealous, I can.”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
“Now what do you want to do about San Cristóbal?”
She weighed Jack’s words. Returning to their work was high priority. The clinic would reopen on Monday, and with the storm there would be more injuries. Not to mention the job of rebuilding.
During her extended pause, Jack drew out his wallet and greased the driver’s palm.
****
The drive to San Cristóbal turned out to be fairly uneventful. Roadblocks manned by the military stopped them on frequent occasions, but the mention of Juan or Alfonzo and the clinic, soon had them waved through.
“Who knew the clinic had so much clout?”
Jack didn’t reply. The country was ravaged by religious disagreements, and Alfonzo and Juan were on the side of the opposition, so the frequent passes bothered him.
“When we stop next time, let me talk.”
Raylyn didn’t comment, and he hoped her feelings weren’t hurt.
Close to San Cristóbal, they were stopped again. He made a shushing noise, and she clamped her lips together.
“State your business.”
“We work for Juan Guerrero.”
“Is that so?” The guard leaned into the back window.
In Spanish, Jack added, “Esta es su niña.” Immediately, the man leaned back and waved them through.
“Why did you say I was Juan’s girl?” asked Raylyn.
“Investigative purposes.”
She stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know if I like being used for investigative purposes.”
Jack patted her leg. “I promise to make it up to you.”
“Indeed you shall.”
They arrived at the apartment as the sun lowered. He dragged their bags inside before going to his own apartment.
Unpacked and showered, he found a comfortable chair. Settled, he lifted the phone, thankful to receive a dial tone, to call Rory. The line crackled as the operator dialed the number.
“How are you?” Rory asked, his voice loaded with static.
“Better than most.”
“So you weathered the storm?”
“I survived.” He twisted the circular cord around his finger. For a few moments, he discussed trivialities, then he said, “I don’t know how long we’ll stay connected, so I’m going to cut to the chase. I need to ask a favor.”
“Don’t be shy. Ask your favor.”
Jack explained his concerns about Juan. “Do you mind askin’ Olin to—“
“Do some investigating? We’ll get on it. Now how are you fairing with Raylyn? Has she become more receptive to your presence?”
Thoughts of how receptive Raylyn had been of late had him squirming in the chair.
“Silence. Now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
Jack attempted to laugh off the statement, but Rory wasn’t deceived.
He added, “You give yourself away, my brother. But do not fear, we will pray for a positive resolution to your situation.”
Jack didn’t argue. The line disconnected. He leaned his head against the chair and prayed Olin found something to prove him wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Raylyn rose early. Dressed, she traipsed the few blocks to Alfonzo’s home. Manuel escorted her to Alfonzo’s room.
Propped by a plethora of fluffy, square pillows, he looked healthier than he had two days ago.
He lifted his hand and urged her forward. “Come, chiquita.”
Raylyn advanced and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Manuel told me about the storm. I’m glad to see you have returned safely to San Cristóbal.”
“We were lucky,” she said, secretly checking his color and looking at his sheet for any seeping blood.
“Ah, si. I also heard Manuel’s vehicle failed to complete the journey.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that.”
Alfonzo waved. “No matter. Of course, he is devastated, but the truck, it was how do you say, on its last legs?”
She nodded, and he lifted her hand and cradled it.
“You are going to the clinic today, yes?”
She nodded, but the thought left a sour taste in her mouth. Juan would be there, and she didn’t look forward to being with him in the close confines of the clinic walls.
“This will be a hard day,” he said, lifting his eyes and studying her face.
She wrung her hands and returned his stare. “I’ve seen disasters before.
“You’ve seen the devastation of war. The people injured and brought to your hospital made a conscious decision to participate. This time will be different. Many women and children will be in attendance, and they will not be well. You must not be afraid to send them to the hospital.”
“But aren’t they already full? The radio reported they were at top capacity.”
“Si, they are, but you mustn’t let this coerce you into treating a patient you are ill-prepared to treat.”
“I won’t.” She considered asking about Dr. Juan Guerrero’s role, but he interrupted.
“And do not let the new doctor goad you. I know he can be quite overbearing.”
Raylyn didn’t comment. He fanned his hand as if shooing her away. He called her name, and she stopped before entering the hallway. “Raylyn, you must return here for dinner this evening. Food supplies have been rationed within the city. Manuel was able to commandeer your portion.” She nodded and he added, “And while you are here, you will tell me of your day.”
She exited the house, prepared to make the short jaunt to the clinic alone. Untrimmed branches snaked out from the bushes and brushed against her cardigan. The storm had brought cooler temperatures, and she shivered. Head down, Jack’s sudden appearance surprised her.
“May I escort you to the clinic?”
Warmth struck the side of her body as he drew beside her. “Of course. I would love the company.”
“Did you sleep?” he asked, limping slightly.
�
�Yes, but not well,” she answered.
“Nor I. My mind kept conjuring up all the people left homeless by the storm and how lucky I am to have shelter.”
She nodded and chewed on her lip. The injuries would be one thing, but where would the patients go when they left the clinic? Trash bins filled with trembling women and children came to her mind, and she worked to vanquish the disturbing image. Changing the subject, she said, “That reminds me. The town is rationing food, and Alfonzo invited us to dinner.”
“Did he really invite us?” Before she could reply, he said, “Ignore my comment. I’ll be glad to attend. And I thought maybe I could join you at the clinic for lunch. I mean, that is, if you don’t think you’ll be too busy.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. She lifted her chin and looked at him. “I’d like that.”
He lifted one corner of his lips into a school-boy smile. She almost laughed at the sudden display of shyness. They strolled together all the way to the clinic’s door. He opened it and waited until she was safely deposited inside. She peeked through the glass and spotted him skipping awkwardly toward the sidewalk.
“Hola, señorita Raylyn.”
The voice from behind made her jump, and she swiveled on her heel. “Hola, señor Guerrero.”
He cocked a brow at the formal title. “Ah, you must call me Juan.”
“Of course.” Away from the door, she skirted around him. Settled in the swivel chair behind the counter, she laid her purse on the floor and shuffled papers.
He faced the window, as he asked, “How was your trip?”
She pinched a piece of paper between her fingers and let it linger in the air. “Pardon?”
“Your trip to Boca del Cielo. You enjoyed the hotel, yes?”
Heart rate increasing, sweat coating her palms, she glared at his back and swallowed. He faced her, and she managed a cool nod.
“Do not look so surprised, mi bella dama. Chiapas is a small country. Nothing stays secret for long.”
Juan meandered out of the front office and toward the rear of the building.
Raylyn forced herself to move. The papers stacked, she clenched the edge of the counter until her knuckles whitened. The overwhelming feeling something was wrong fled as the first patient entered the clinic. A father cradled his daughter with a bandaged head.
****
Lunch time came, and Jack excused himself and meandered over to the clinic. Patients lined the sidewalk. The door stood open. Shouldering his way through the door amidst vehement protests, he finally reached the lobby.
Raylyn twisted from left to right, dragging files from the cabinets and handing papers to those who waited. Yelling out a name, she rushed an individual into a small ante-chamber off the main room for triage.
Jack took up residence close by and tapped his foot. So far his presence had gone unnoticed. Raylyn seemed busy. Could she get away to share lunch with him?
“Oh, Jack, you’re here.” Raylyn ran a hand over her hair, removed her ponytail holder and replaced it more securely. “I wasn’t expecting you until,” she glanced at a wall clock, “now, actually.” She worried her lip.
“You can’t make it can you?”
She shook her head and pointed to a stack of files on her desk. “There are just too many injuries for me to stop. I’ll just grab a bite between patients. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” He paused before adding, “I guess I’ll let you get back to it, and I’ll see you tonight.”
“Uh-huh.” She was already focused on something else.
Back on the sidewalk, he returned to the construction site and consumed his lunch.
The day progressed, and Jack felt himself grow edgy. He couldn’t wait for the day to end. Rory had promised to call as soon as he had any news, but that couldn’t be soon enough.
“You’re moody,” said Manuel.”
“What?” Jack used his hand to block the sun as he gazed upward at Manuel.
“I said you’re moody. Your face looks like this.” Manuel drew his brows together and used his fingers to tug the corner of his lips downward.
“Hmm, I don’t think that’s my best look.”
“This I know. So what has you this way? Are you sad to be back in San Cristóbal?”
“No.” Truth be told, he was happy to be back in the city. The apartment, even with its one room and unusual bathroom, felt like home.
“Is it because of the extra work? Because, if so, I’m sorry. I told the people in the ghetto we are but two men, yet they seem to think we are miracle workers, eh?”
Jack shook his head. “Work is not a problem. I sort of like having more to do. It keeps me from thinking on other things.”
“Oh, you are having woman troubles.”
“Is it that obvious?” Jack avoided Manuel’s gaze and scrutinized the screwdriver on his lap.
“Ah, it is. Did you have an argument with Raylyn?”
“No.”
Manuel narrowed his eyes. “No argument, yet you have troubles. I don’t think I understand, but do not worry I really do not want to understand. Maria and I have enough troubles to fill a ledger.”
He proceeded to share his many miseries, and Jack pretended to listen as he reached for every power tool accessible, hoping to find a legitimate way to block the noise.
The hours dragged. Time came to clean up and leave the worksite. Jack felt as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Tonight could be the night he told Raylyn about his feelings for her.
“You’re coming to eat, yes?” asked Manuel as he packed his tools in a rickety wagon.
“Yes.”
“Good. Go home, change, and come back with Raylyn. And do not be late. I have a special treat.”
Jack obeyed. At home he showered and changed quickly before rushing downstairs to retrieve Raylyn. He knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer. He frowned. Shielding his eyes, he peeked through a small slit in the curtains. No lights were on.
Again, he knocked on the wooden door frame and waited. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth. Where was she?
****
Raylyn closed the medicine cabinet, retrieved her purse, and prepared to leave the clinic. The last patient had left fifteen minutes earlier, and she was now alone with Juan.
He ambled around the back office, shuffling papers and slamming file drawers. Raylyn stayed out of his way, just desiring to leave.
The door handle in her hand, she prepared to step out, when Juan called.
“Raylyn? Raylyn, where are you?”
She sighed. “I’m here.”
“Good, you haven’t left. Could you come to my office?”
She closed the door. Her shoulders slumped as she approached the office. The room looked like a hurricane had blown through it. Papers littered the floor. Books lay open with pages torn out.
“What happened in here? Did someone leave the windows open when the storm blew through?”
“I’m searching for something. Maybe you can help me.”
She blinked rapidly.
“I’m looking for a miniature wooden box with an intricate golden scroll lock.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Juan ran his hands through his hair then tapped his chin. “I see. Thank you for your time. You may go.”
Raylyn shifted the purse strap higher on her shoulder and practically ran toward the front door. Once outside, she tugged hard until it clicked shut. When she turned, she barreled into a broad chest.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Jack stood before her, and instantly she felt better. “I’m fine.”
“When you weren’t at home, I guess, well, I guess I got a little worried.”
Internally, she was glad for his worry. If she’d been stuck inside with Juan then Jack might have broken the door down with his bare hands to rescue her. Or maybe he would have found another way in, but at least the first one sounded heroic.
“We had extra patients today b
ecause of the storm. How did you fare?”
“About the same. The storm caused damage to a great number of homes. But these people are fighters. They’ll come out okay.”
They linked arms and strolled toward Alfonzo’s home. “I’m starving. I hope they have something good to eat tonight.”
“Manuel claimed to have a special treat, but with him one never knows.”
They shared pleasantries on the way, and Raylyn hoped the evening would go on forever. They arrived at the Gomez home and were greeted by many other people from the ghetto. Apparently Manuel and Alfonzo had planned a get-together for the entire neighborhood.
“I don’t think Alfonzo should be doing so much.”
“He is the doctor,” said Jack.
“True, but haven’t you ever heard that doctors make the worse patients?”
“I have.”
They entered the throng of people.
“I’m going to find Manuel. Why don’t you find us a seat?”
Raylyn agreed and watched Jack’s retreating form. People gathered around the outskirts of the garden in small groups. Most of them were men, and they seemed none too willing to accept her into their fold.
She stood on the fringes. A fronded plant hid her from prying eyes as she plopped into a wicker chair and placed her legs on its matching footstool.
“I tell you, times are growing more dangerous,” said one of the men in the group.
“How can that be? We’ve already been kicked off our land and forced into this rat hole. Our women are followed and raped. Our pastors killed. How can it get worse?” another man replied, anger coating his words.
“I hear tell we’ve been infiltrated.”
“What?” A collective gasp ran through the riling group.
“There is a spy amongst us. And I bet ten pesos the spy is someone new. Information has been leaking out since we allowed the missionaries in. It wasn’t like that before.”
“Now wait a minute. The missionaries have nothing to do with this.”
“And how do you know? I say they do.”
Emerald Street Page 15
