I hope that guard’s niña lives. Mom and Rory nearly didn’t. I’m so lucky... The thought surprised her as the guard finally nodded.
“I’ll pass on your request, Miz...” She glanced at her paperwork. “Miz Atwell. If it’s okayed, you start clinic duties next week.”
The guard locked Tanya inside the room—which had an actual door with a high window instead of bars, and clean linoleum instead of cracked, roach-infected, crumbling concrete.
“Which bed is empty?” Tanya asked the other two as the electronic lock snicked shut behind them.
“None of them,” the girl with the stocky build answered.
“Yeah,” the scarred one agreed. “We use them all.”
Tanya dropped her backpack, then looked out the window to make sure the guard had indeed left.
“Listen, ladies,” she said sarcastically. “I wanna get into med school. That means I need quiet study time. I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“Oooh, medical school, roomie.”
“We got us a Doctor Quinn here.”
“Wrong. I’m not interested in general practice.”
“That’s right. You’re interested in turds,” the girl with the scarred cheek said, deliberately kicking Tanya’s backpack and leaving a dusty footprint on it. The stocky one stood beside her friend to chant, “Turd lover, turd lover.”
Two against one? Cowards... Tanya felt her old instincts rise, then pushed them back down and smiled. “Maybe I should prove you right. Maybe I won’t shower after clinic duty. Maybe I love body waste so much that I’ll smear them all over my clothes. Then you and this room and these beds you won’t let me use will all reek like an overflowing outhouse.”
One girl muttered something. The other lifted her foot to kick Tanya’s backpack even farther into a corner. Before the foot connected, Tanya said, “Kick my backpack again and I’ll tell the guard how much my new roommates want clinic duty with me. I’ll slam your heads into the bedpans so fast you won’t have time to shut your mouths, let alone scream. Then your smell can match your attitudes.”
A gasp showed both of her roommates had grasped the situation. The stocky girl lifted Tanya’s backpack and carefully placed it on the bottom bunk. “Here, take this one.”
The other girl moved sullenly away—a good distance away—to the far side of the room.
Satisfied she’d made herself clear, Tanya rummaged around in her backpack for the book she’d asked her father to purchase and the juvenile center had let her keep. She moved her backpack to the foot of the bed, kicked off her sneakers and stretched out. Her fingers nimbly turned the pages to chapter one and she began to read:
Even in this day and age, science has only scratched the surface in the war against viruses and the illnesses they cause. The field of viral study offers a life’s work for medical and research personnel challenged by the power of these microorganisms and their deadly epidemics, such as influenza or AIDS. Those interested in making a profession of viral studies should understand that only dedication and application can make a difference in unlocking one of science’s greatest mysteries...
Her eyebrows knit in concentration, Tanya continued to read. How come the doctors couldn’t zap this virus Mom had? Why couldn’t they identify it? Wouldn’t it be better to know what you’re fighting? Why don’t antibiotics work? How could I find out which virus Mom had—and how to treat it? I wonder...
The tough, rebellious look left her features, replaced by rapt interest as the inherent intelligence she’d never truly tapped into began to make itself known.
“Look at what she’s reading. No wonder she wants to work the clinic. She’s into germ warfare!”
Idiots.
“This girl is insane,” the scarred girl whispered to her friend. “We better stay out of her way.”
“You said it, chica. Those drugs sure scrambled the newbie’s brain,” she whispered back.
“Or else it was that Mexican jail. Something sure did a number on her.”
Tanya smiled ever so faintly. Tell me about it. Then, her mind already dismissing her roommates, she continued her reading.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Aurora and Dorian’s room,
Mission Bay Hospital
AURORA WATCHED DORIAN study her tray of hospital-bland food under the watchful eyes of their parents.
“All right now, girls, start with the juice, then the broth and hot tea, and save the Jello-O for dessert,” Mrs. Collins said.
“Mother, we’re not children anymore. I can eat my Jello-O whenever I want—like right now, because I’m not eating this other gross stuff.” Dorian’s face screwed up in an excellent imitation of a child.
“Aurora, start on your food. Set a good example for your sister,” Mr. Collins suggested. “Not that you haven’t always done so,” he quickly added.
The awkward moment was smoothed over by Aurora’s warm response. “I’m with Dorian. Dessert first. Trade you my green for your red?”
“Done. I hate red.”
“I know.”
“I hope they have good food in that place Tanya’s in,” Mrs. Collins said in a quavering voice that quickly steadied itself. “She’s such a picky eater. Just like you two. Let me help you, Aurora. Stan, you help Dorian. We’ll start with the broth.”
“Mooooooommmmm!” Dorian protested as her father picked up the soupspoon and began to feed her. “Rory, tell them to stop!”
Aurora pretended she couldn’t hear. In truth, sounds were quite muffled. Her damaged ears were stuffed with the antibiotic-saturated gauze required for optimum healing, but that wasn’t the only reason she sat still for her parents’ antics. Aurora knew they’d missed out on so many firsts in her life.
She’d finished high school by correspondence. They never saw her graduate. Never saw her dressed for a senior prom—because she’d never gone. Never knew who her first crush was—or the first man she’d truly loved. They’d missed her birthdays, and she’d missed their anniversaries. Holidays came and went without their being together. She’d missed her sister’s wedding because she was at sea so long that when she got the invitation, the wedding was over. The least she could do was let them fuss over her. It wasn’t much compensation for all they’d missed, but it was a start. Everyone knows I’ll have enough free time now.
Despite her brave words, first to Dorian and then later in a long conversation with her parents, the end of her diving career devastated her.
First I lose my boat, then my diving ability, my whole way of life. Have I lost Jordan as well because of it?
She hoped not, but would he want someone like her? A rule breaker? A renegade who could no longer earn a living doing what they both loved—plumbing the ocean depths? A salvager gone bust? As for salvaging the San Rafael, that had been an even bigger bust. As far as she knew, nothing had been recovered—and now never would.
With her cotton-stuffed ears, Aurora didn’t hear the knock at the door, but she saw Neil and Donna enter.
“Surprise,” Donna said, holding up a large bag with the Baskin-Robbins logo.
“And just in the nick of time, by the looks of it.” Neil sniffed and grimaced at the smell of broth.
“The doctor said Dorian can’t have dairy yet,” Mrs. Collins protested.
“I can so,” Dorian immediately said.
Dorian moaned, the others laughed, and Aurora accepted the carton and spoon Donna offered her. “Cherry chocolate chip?”
“Of course.”
Aurora dug in, basking in the smiling faces around her. Family, friends...how could I ever have left this behind? I was so young, so determined, still a child in many ways—but that’s the past. Time to live in the present, with thoughts of the future.
“Have either of you seen Jordan?” she asked.
“He dropped Gerald and Tanya off downtown at Juvie,” Neil told her. “Gerald called me—said the place looks good. Much better than he expected, and with a good in-house educational program. Tanya has a chance to c
atch up on her schooling.”
Dorian and her mother held hands for support as Mrs. Collins said, “At least she’s out of Mexico and that terrible jail, thanks to my eldest.”
“Hear, hear,” Dorian replied. She bravely held her cup of tea up in the air. “To Rory—our woman of the year.”
Everyone managed a soft cheer, wary of the hospital atmosphere and Aurora’s ears.
Neil spoke up. “The last of the good news is in, thanks to Jordan and yours truly. Mexico is willing to drop all charges against our merry band of jailbreakers and escapees in exchange for the two crewman aboard the Mako. Seems they’ve not only been involved in some major smuggling, they also stole a boat from a major Mexican official. Other than Tanya, no one else in your family or the Ortega family will be held liable or prosecuted.”
“A toast to Jordan and Neil,” Mr. Collins said.
Cups of gelatin, broth and tea were raised in a toast. Donna and Neil engaged in a kiss that had Aurora wishing for the same with Jordan.
Aurora lifted her spoon of ice cream, one part of her happy for her family, the other still wondering...
Where is Jordan?
Mission San Diego de Alcala
Old Mission Chapel, evening
JORDAN FOLDED a ten-dollar bill in fourths and slid it through the narrow slot of the offertory box. He then reached for a candle taper, lit it from a half-burned candle and lit first one, then a second, and finally a third of the new candles in the front row. Some tourists who had earlier snapped photos of the main altar watched curiously.
Jordan performed the ritual unselfconsciously—a ritual that was a traditional part of his family’s past. He remembered lighting candles as a child, hoping for the safe return of family members at sea. It was a ritual that held comfort for him now.
The first candle blazed for Roberto and his family. Roberto, his mother, his sister and new brother, Alfonso, had been sponsored by the Mission itself for long-term visas. Roberto’s mother would complete the paperwork, the physical and the necessary shots to be certified as a food-service worker and child-care attendant. The orphanage had a high turnover of cooks, yet many small mouths remained to be fed. His sister, Yadira, would be attending the Mission school, and Alfonso would room at the orphanage, where the whole family would be lodged for now.
The second candle he lit for Tanya. The girl had suffered much, but as the saying went, some people had to learn things the hard way. Tanya’s actions had caused serious repercussions for her parents, her aunt, and had indirectly caused the deaths of Flores and one of his henchmen. The near loss of her family and the loss of Aurora’s ability to dive wouldn’t be easy for Dorian’s daughter to live with, Jordan suspected. Yet Tanya had pulled herself back from the edge of disaster and begun again. She had courage.
The third candle flickered weakly for Aurora. Jordan didn’t miss the symbolism. His chest felt heavy with despair. He’d heard the doctor’s diagnosis. Aurora would never dive again, and he knew who she would blame.
Me and my bright idea with the helicopter. Because of that stupid galleon, she lost her boat, her hearing, her job and her livelihood. She must hate me. How can I ask her to remain my partner? Become my wife? Share in having the children I’ve wanted for so long? Even the millions that emerald necklace is worth won’t undo what’s been done. I can’t face her. How can I walk away when she tells me to leave? I haven’t felt this lost, this scared, since the hurricane.
He continued to sit in despair until a voice said, “Excuse me, but touring hours are over. Please exit toward the parking lot, and Mission San Diego de Alcala thanks you for coming.”
Jordan looked up to see Bishop Vincente. Jordan rose, and the two men moved to one of the old wooden benches set on the uneven, handmade-tiled floor.
“Since when does the bishop play bouncer to tourists?” Jordan asked.
“The humble shall be exalted, and the exalted humbled. And you’re no ordinary tourist, thanks to your donation. You’ve given a brighter future to more orphans than you know.”
“The money doesn’t mean a thing to me now.”
“It does to my orphanage. Ten percent of—how many millions did the appraiser quote?” the bishop asked.
Jordan shrugged, his eyes on the blue-and-red glass in the wrought-iron black of the candleholders and the serene, painted image of the Madonna of Guadeloupe looking down at him. The emerald necklace had been entrusted to the Mission’s bank for safekeeping.
“I talked to Roberto’s mother earlier,” the bishop continued. “Señora Ortega is very grateful for all your help, as is this mission. She also told me about Aurora, who’s lucky to be alive.”
“The lady might not agree with you.” Jordan continued to watch the candles flicker. “She’ll never dive again—and it’s my fault.”
“Are you just guessing or did she tell you that?”
Jordan met the bishop’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t she blame me? Wouldn’t you?”
The bishop sighed. “I can’t pretend to understand women—and I was married and widowed before I became a priest. I also have three sisters and more nieces than I can count. Women are almost as much of a mystery to me as the Creator himself. But, my son, I would never be foolish enough to predict what a woman was thinking. Nor do I believe you a foolish man, Señor Castillo. Frightened, perhaps. But not foolish. Certainly not a coward.”
“Wrong. I’m a coward in the first degree.”
“You broke the law for this woman. You risked your life for this woman. Obviously you love her.”
“Yes, Your Excellency. I do.”
“Does she return your love?”
Jordan remembered back to her scrawled note underwater just before he’d descended to check on the dead divers. “She said so once, but that was before—”
“Lighting candles won’t give you an answer. Nor will hiding out here. My advice to you is this. Please exit to the parking lot and find out.”
Jordan rose. “Who am I to disobey a bishop? Good night, Your Excellency.”
“Good night, my son. Vaya con Dios.”
Hallway outside Aurora and Dorian’s room,
Mission Bay Hospital
7:30 p.m.
JORDAN GLANCED at his watch, noted visiting hours weren’t over yet and took a deep breath. He knocked at the door. No answer came from within. A female nurse noticed his uncertainty.
“Mrs. Atwell is sleeping, but Ms. Collins was awake last time I checked. She probably can’t hear you.”
She can’t hear you. The words stabbed deep.
The nurse poked her head inside the door. “She’s decent. Go on in.”
Jordan took another deep breath to calm his sinking stomach and entered.
Aurora didn’t look up. Didn’t hear him. He watched her sitting up in bed; her hair was swept back in a single long braid, neatly off her gauze-packed ears. Dorian slept on the other side of the room, while Aurora had her night-light on, the hospital writing table suspended above her knees. Papers were spread out all over, and she chewed on the pen in her hand.
He cleared his throat. She didn’t lift her head. He felt like turning tail and running. He hadn’t had a long conversation with her since before the second wreck of the San Rafael. After that, he’d timed his visits to coincide with those of others to prevent her from ordering him out of her life. He couldn’t stall any longer.
Jordan reached for the light switch and flipped it off, then on. Aurora lifted her head, her expression of welcome and joy flooding his heart. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so hard after all.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He approached and quietly pulled the privacy curtain around Dorian’s bed. “How is she?”
“Good. Great, in fact. She ate Jello-O today and kept it down.”
Jordan nodded, standing awkwardly in the space between the beds. He looked for a chair, but they were both on Dorian’s side of the curtain and he didn’t want to risk waking her. Aurora patted her bed.
&
nbsp; “I don’t want to jostle your leg. How’s it doing?”
“It hurts whether I jostle it or not,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m still on the pain shots. I just had one, so why don’t you lower these safety bars and sit down?” she said. “I won’t feel a thing for a while.”
He still stood and glanced at her paperwork. “No wonder you needed that shot.”
“Insurance forms,” Aurora said with a grimace. “Police forms. Health forms. Overdue bills.”
“Pretty dull stuff.”
“Yeah—easier to do with pain meds.” She shrugged. “Gerald offered to finish them for me, but I’ve got the time. I can only watch so much TV, closed-captioned or not. He said he’ll review them after I finish.”
“How are your ears?” he asked.
“Healing. Where have you been?” she asked abruptly.
“Taking care of business. Then fighting my own cowardice.”
“An honest answer. Who were you afraid to face? Me?”
He grabbed the top rail of the safety bars and held tight, noticing she held just as tightly to her pen. “Yeah.”
“Why? So you could dump your useless partner with no fuss, no muss?”
Jordan hesitated. “I thought you’d be dumping me.”
“But I made you break the law,” Aurora said.
“No, I ruined your dive career.”
“I ruined your salvage operation. The San Rafael is gone.”
“Only because I had a helicopter circle over it. And my family—Flores—was responsible for the loss of your ship...Neptune’s Bride.”
“You didn’t set the fire. You saved my sister. You saved my life.”
“You made me fall in love with you.”
“What?” Aurora’s loud exclamation caused Dorian to murmur. Both froze until she rolled over and went back to sleep.
“I did salvage something,” Jordan said.
“Forget the salvage.”
“There was this necklace...”
“You still love me?”
“...tangled up with the dead diver’s tank.”
Found at Sea Page 24
