After coffee, they left the restaurant and walked out onto the street lined with trendy boutiques and galleries. He saw a jewelry store and thought maybe a small piece of jewelry for his mom might ease some of his guilt he felt about her situation. When Miranda saw his intention, she gave a little shake of her head.
“I’ll peek in the clothing shop next door.”
“Okay.” He headed into the jewelry store and asked the clerk about bracelets. The clerk, who spoke perfect English, led him to the appropriate case. Spencer saw a freshwater pearl bracelet for a surprisingly low price.
As he examined it for quality, he experienced a stab of shame that he was planning to buy something to assuage uncomfortable feelings. A part of him grieved for what his mother had endured, regardless of her reasons for that endurance. Besides, he’d like to have a small gift for her from Mexico to return with.
After paying for the bracelet, he walked toward the door. As he passed a bank of gleaming glass cases, a spark of blue caught his attention. The color reminded him of Miranda’s eyes. He stopped and peered at a selection of jewelry featuring sapphires and aquamarines.
The clerk appeared behind the case. “Can I show you something else?”
Spencer was about to shake his head when a ring arrested his attention. It was a square cut blue stone ring with two smaller square diamonds fitted on either side, all set in a modern design of gleaming platinum.
As if reading his mind, the clerk plucked the ring from the velvet mount and held it up for his inspection. “This is Swiss Blue Topaz. Very pretty, no?”
Spencer hesitated to touch the ring as it was part of a wedding band set but the blue of the stone made him reach out and take it in his hand.
It wasn’t the deep blue of a sapphire, but a paler blue like a natural gas flame. Exactly the color of Miranda’s eyes. He stared at it for a long moment before shaking his head, as if coming out of a trance.
He handed it back to the clerk with a rueful smile. “It’s beautiful,” he said in a conciliatory way. “But I’m not getting married.”
Spencer took a deep breath and made his way to the door, wondering if he should buy it just as a token of his adventure with Miranda. Outside on the sidewalk, he glanced up and down the street. No, precious stones and platinum did not a token make. It was a ridiculous notion in the first place.
“Spencer!”
He focused on Miranda as she stepped up in front of him. She smiled. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Uh.” He opened up the bag and pulled out the box containing the bracelet. “What do you think?”
Miranda held it up. “It’s very pretty. I’m sure you mother will love it.”
She replaced it and looked at him with a rare, open expression on her face. The blue of her eyes surpassed the beauty of the stone he’d seen by a long shot. No doubt about it.
He noticed a tide of color staining her cheeks. “Do you mind if we go somewhere else? I can’t afford to shop in Zona Rosa.”
He began to protest, but she held up her hand.
“Besides, I prefer to shop at the big market close to the Zócalo.” She placed a hand on her chest. “El corazón de la cuidad. The heart of the city, okay?”
Spencer had to smile at her theatrics. “Okay.”
***
After the usual snail pace through the streets in the taxi, they arrived in the part of town Miranda directed. Spencer paid the cab fare and followed her to a crowded market area. A group of teenagers swarmed past, jostling her into his side. He experienced a sweet stab of pleasure when she grabbed his arm to steady herself, and didn't let go.
The warmth of her body and the light, attractive scent she wore mingled with the smells from the market. Musky odors of various leather products, the spiciness of myriad flowers, along with the ubiquitous odor of hundreds of bodies in close proximity all combined with the now-familiar smell of chiles and límon in an exotic mix he doubted he’d ever forget.
All around he noticed Mexican peasants selling hand-carved crucifixes and skeletons, candles and votive lights, and sugary rolls topped with bits of dough formed into bone shapes. There were also sweets shaped like coffins, and more of the sugar skulls he saw yesterday. Spencer pointed to a life-sized skeleton robed in a dress and hat with jaunty feathers.
“Does this have something to do with the Day of the Dead thing you told me about?”
Miranda nodded. “That’s La Muerte. Death. She goes by many names; La Pelona or Baldy, La Catrina for Fancy Lady, La Huesuda means Bony, and La Flaca for Skinny.”
Spencer stared at the grinning skeleton and suppressed a desire to shudder. “I saw some of this when we first arrived, but now it’s everywhere.”
Miranda pulled on his arm. “Today is All Saints Day, tomorrow is All Souls Day. It’s a time when the souls of those departed are remembered and celebrated. It’s not as gruesome as you think, just different than what you’re used to.”
“Like Halloween?”
“No. This isn’t a scary time. But a happy one of commemoration and festivity.”
Based on the mental picture he had of Miranda’s parents, Spencer doubted this holiday was one they’d embraced. “Did you celebrate this when you were growing up?”
She shook her head. “My parents didn’t observe it, but every year, I’d sneak away to the local graveyard and join the families who sat there in honor of their dead. They’d whitewash the tombs, light candles, and set out the favorite foods of the departed loved ones.”
She glanced up at him, her blue eyes wide in her face. Spencer caught his breath at the sadness he saw there.
“Death is so frequent here,” she said after a moment. “Instead of fearing it, Mexicans have embraced it. It helps them feel close to those they loved and lost.” Miranda reached out and touched a bunch of marigolds held by a tiny girl with huge brown eyes and rosy cheeks.
When Spencer saw Miranda reaching for her purse, he stopped her. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and extracted a wad of notes.
Miranda shook her head. “I’m making personal expenditures today. I can’t accept money for that.”
He shoved them into the opening of her purse. “No arguments. Besides, I know you must be low on money by now.”
She took a breath, her gaze averted. “I’ll only accept this as a loan. I insist on paying you back.”
“Fine,” he muttered. Spencer wished money didn’t have to color their already peculiar relationship.
Miranda paid for the flowers and brought them to her face. “These are traditionally used to leave a path to lead the angelitos home.”
“Angelitos?”
“Little angels. Children who’ve died.”
Time and motion slowed. Spencer felt a shiver of trepidation and wondered why. He stood in a multitude of noisy shoppers and revelers and yet his heart pounded erratically in his chest. Miranda continued to gaze at the flowers, her face pale.
He swallowed. “Is there anything else you’d like to look at?”
She raised her head and looked at him. Spencer was reminded of the first time he saw her, when the world of anguish in her eyes had made him want to take a step back. He held his ground and touched her arm. Miranda responded by curling her hand around his arm and leaning against him.
Spencer pressed his cheek against her hair, longing to help, but afraid of what that might require. The throng came back into focus, along with its sights, sounds, and frenetic movement.
Pushed along by the momentum of the crowd, they made their way along dozens of stalls and merchants. Spencer wondered when he’d stop being surprised by the items for sale. It seemed everything from sunglasses, windshield wipers, cassettes, shoelaces, and computer books could be had for a few pesos.
Miranda stopped by a rack of clothing. He held the flowers for her while she sorted through the brightly decorated, intricately embroidered traditional Mexican garments. He was relieved to see color in her cheeks again. She held several blouses and dre
sses up in front of her, a look of appeal in her eyes.
“They’re all pretty,” he assured her. She rolled her eyes as if to say men, and continued sorting.
Miranda chose two blouses and a dress for herself, and three blouses and two dresses of a smaller size, he assumed for Soledad. Spencer was shocked at the low prices. The clothing was obviously made with a skilled hand, and probably commanded a lot more in the specialty boutiques in a better part of town.
Weighed down with bags, they continued along the stalls. Spencer reflected this was probably one of the most normal things he and Miranda had done together. No fired gunshots, no allegations of blackmail, no mad dash through a dangerous and exotic city to rescue a lost child. Just a couple of tourists doing what tourists did best—shop.
Miranda seemed almost happy as they made their way to a nearby restaurant for lunch. Afterwards, they took a cab to a nearby park, joining a more peaceful procession of families and young lovers. Balloon vendors added color to the tropical plants and majestic old trees.
Miranda’s gentle tugging on his arm led him toward a fountain. They stopped in front of it. Spencer welcomed the light mist on his face to counter effect the warmth of the day.
“Do we toss in coins and make a wish?” he asked with a teasing tone.
Miranda shook her head. She pulled the bunch of orange marigolds from a bag and placed it along the side of the fountain. Then she hooked her arm through his and gazed up at him. “Ready? I’m tired and could use a nap this afternoon.”
Spencer smiled and nodded. He was exhausted. As they moved along the path, something made him twist his head and look back at the fountain. Above the spray of water stood the stone sculpture of a mother embracing an infant in her arms.
Twenty-Three
When Miranda opened her eyes and squinted at the clock, she struggled to a sitting position, rubbing what felt like smog from her eyes. She peered at the clock again, unable to believe the time. Eleven thirty. She’d gone to bed after she and Spencer returned from shopping some time around four. She must’ve been more tired than she thought.
A light knock on the door made her jump. Miranda eased her tired body from the bed and padded to the door. When she opened the door, Spencer stood in the hall.
A frown marred his handsome features. “I was about ready to have the manager open the door for me.”
“Were you knocking a long time?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“For several minutes. When you missed breakfast, I got concerned.”
“You mean dinner. I missed dinner.”
He shook his head. “Breakfast. What have you been doing all this time?”
Miranda stared up at him, feeling lightheaded. “I took a nap when we got back and just now woke up.”
Spencer raised his brows and look at his watch. “If you’ve been sleeping all this time, that means you’ve been out for almost twenty hours.”
Miranda stared at Spencer with surprise. “Um, I guess I was tired.”
“You mentioned yesterday that you might not come down for dinner, so I didn’t worry when I didn’t hear from you.” He reached out and touched her forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
She nodded. “Just a little groggy. And really hungry.”
He smiled, although she could detect worry in his eyes. “Do you want to meet me in the restaurant for lunch?”
She nodded. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
After he left, Miranda showered and changed into one of the dresses she bought the day before, all the while wondering how she could’ve slept so long. Emotional exhaustion? Maybe.
She regarded her reflection in the mirror. The dress had puffy short sleeves, a scooped neckline worked with colored thread, and a flared, ruffled skirt that reached to just below her knees. With her sandals, she looked like a typical Mexican peasant in the southern part of the country. All she lacked was long black braids and brown eyes.
As she picked up her purse, Miranda hoped Soledad liked the dresses she’d chosen for her. Tomorrow. She’d know more tomorrow. Maybe even present the dresses to her sister. Miranda blinked back tears at the heady thought of a reunion. It was almost more than she could bear.
Gulping down the rising emotion, she left her room and hurried down to the restaurant. She found Spencer already seated at a table by the window. He stood at her entrance, utterly appealing in a loose white shirt opened at the neck and black slacks. Miranda resisted a powerful impulse to embrace him. Instead she sat in the chair he pulled out for her, keeping her gaze on her folded hands in her lap.
“That dress looks beautiful on you.”
She glanced up, feeling heat flood her face. “Thank you.”
After giving their orders to the waiter, Spencer leaned forward. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?”
Miranda shrugged. “No sickness or anything. I haven’t slept well for a long time. Maybe it finally caught up with me.”
“I guess so,” Spencer said, incredulity apparent in his voice.
She gazed out the window, feeling suffocated at the thought of the day to come.
“I’ve been thinking about tomorrow.”
Miranda slowly turned her head to face Spencer. “And?”
He blew out a breath. “If we get Soledad’s last known location, and we go on to find her, have you thought of what to do next?”
Miranda lowered her gaze. The only thing she’d really focused on was the feel of her sister in her arms, the knowledge that a part of her mother would live on in her life. “Um, start the adoption proceedings?”
Spencer surveyed her for a moment before looking away. “Last night, I went back to that cyber café and did some research. I don’t want to spoil your hopes—”
“Then don’t!”
He pressed his lips together and scrunched the napkin into a wad. “I just think you should know, any adoption will be a long and difficult process—”
“Everything about my life has been long and difficult,” she snapped.
“I’m trying to be realistic so we can handle this in the best way. I just want to be prepared for all possibilities—including the one where this is nothing but a dead end.”
Miranda glared at him. “I’ll worry about all that when it’s time. Right now, everything hinges on hearing from Jesús’ family.”
“You’re right,” he said on a sigh. He grabbed her hand and leaned forward. “I’m not trying to spoil anything, okay? I just don’t want you to be hurt.”
At the contact, all the torment over Spencer fled away. She stifled the desire to hold onto his hand. This sudden need she had for his touch frightened her. In a matter of days, Spencer would go out of her life. She’d never see him again. This wasn’t a good time to become spoony over the man.
She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and slowly slid her hand away, burying it in the folds of her dress. The waiter brought their meals and Miranda was thankful for the distraction. She poured all her attention to the food, chewing and swallowing, keeping disturbing thoughts about Spencer and his effect on her ruthlessly at bay.
After they finished, she excused herself from the table and hurried outside—needing space to clear her mind, to prepare her for the immediate future. A few steps later, she felt his hand on her arm. Miranda turned and looked up at him.
His grip gentled, as well as his expression. “Miranda, I’m not trying to dash your hopes. I just want to be ready for whatever lies ahead—good or bad.”
She searched his gaze, seeing the kindness there. “I understand,” she said in a shaky voice. “But hope is all I have at the moment. Please don’t take it away.”
Spencer removed his hand from her arm. “I think we should spend today preparing for tomorrow.”
Miranda scooted closer to him, to avoid oncoming pedestrians. “I can tell you already have this figured out.”
He grinned and pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “I thought we should put together another food basket for the family, a
long with some toiletries and over-the-counter medicines for starters.” He checked his notes. “I also have a list of several lawyers that specialize in this kind of adoption, so we can call them right away if need be.”
Miranda watched him as he spoke, noticing his enthusiasm for his adopted mission. What other man would take up her cause so completely? Was he still motivated by guilt or obligation? How could she bear to be parted from him when this was all over?
“Miranda, are you listening?”
She focused on his words and nodded, finding herself choked up. “Thank you, Spencer. For everything.”
Spencer reddened and smiled. “Sure. No problem.” He paused. “Do you want to start on that food basket now?”
Miranda nodded. He held out his hand and she slipped her hand into his, drawing on his strength, for whatever lay ahead.
***
Spencer marveled at how entrenched Miranda Adams had become in his life. He half-forgot what his life was like back home, and shied away from the bleak prospect of a future when she would go her own way.
He looked down at her as she walked along beside him away from the hotel. Color lit up her cheeks and a soft smile curved her lips. His fingers tightened around hers. She glanced up at him, and he could see the trust in her eyes. She trusted him after all they’d been through. Spencer determined to do nothing to shake her confidence in him—if he could help it.
After accomplishing everything on his list, they returned to the hotel for dinner. After that, she suggested they do a little sightseeing while they had the chance. Spencer didn’t look forward to seeing more grinning skeletons cavorting about, but he planned to savor these last few relaxed moments with Miranda—while they lasted.
“We need to get a taxi.”
Spencer stifled a groan. Miranda seemed determined to do everything in the less salubrious neighborhoods. He hailed a cab and climbed in after her. A few minutes later, the taxi stopped and they emerged into a neighborhood already in full swing of the All Souls Day. They passed shop windows lit with candles and little skeletons dressed in solemn finery at odds with their rictus smiles.
Milagro For Miranda (Book Three Oregon In Love) Page 16
