The Sunflower: A Novel

by Evans, Richard Paul

  Paul reacted angrily. “I’m not doing anything to her. Christine can make her own decisions. She’s not a child.”

  “When it comes to men, she is.” Her voice softened. “Before Martin came along, she dated a guy named Justin. He was a real loser. He’d belittle Christine in public. Stand her up. Cheat on her. He treated her like a doormat. I begged Christine to drop him but she wouldn’t. She just can’t stand being alone.

  “Then one day she decided to stand up for herself. He beat her up. That should have been the end of it, but even then she wouldn’t leave. She made up some lame excuse for him. So I told him that if he didn’t leave her, my father the congressman would see to it that he did serious jail time. He said ‘fine’ he ‘was just using her anyway.’ ” Jessica’s voice grew hard. “When it comes to men, I’ve always had to look after her.”

  “Like now?”

  “Precisely,” she said. “Listen, I’m not Martin’s biggest fan. But aside from chickening out of the wedding, he’s been good to her. Even after he broke her heart, Christine told me that Martin was everything she wanted. That’s why they were together for six years. That’s a lot of history.”

  “That’s all he is,” Paul said curtly. “History.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Paul looked at her quizzically.

  “…he’s in Lima.”

  For a moment Paul was speechless. “Does Christine know?”

  “She does now.”

  He lowered his head into his hands. “So that was your big news.” He looked up. “What did she say?”

  “She didn’t know what to say.” Jessica sighed. “He makes her happy, Paul. He’s her happy ending.”

  Paul’s cell phone rang. He ignored it. “So what am I supposed to do? Just fade into the sunset?”

  Jessica didn’t answer.

  “I won’t do that to her.”

  “Not to her. For her.”

  Paul stood. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

  “I wish we weren’t,” Jessica said. “I’m so sorry. You’re such a great guy. But Christine could never be happy living like you do. And did she mention her mother? They’re inseparable. She couldn’t possibly live without her mother. She’s the only family Christine has. Even if she could leave her, she’d hate herself for it.”

  Paul’s cell phone rang again and this time he shut it off. Jessica knit her fingers together. “I’m sorry, Paul. But if you don’t let her go, you’ll end up hurting her. I know that’s not what you want.”

  Paul leaned his head against the wall and for several minutes nothing was said. The hotel phone rang. On its thirteenth ring Paul walked over and picked it up.

  “¿Qué?”

  Jessica could hear a voice speaking in Spanish excitedly.

  Paul answered in Spanish. “What do you mean? Did the boys see her? What about Richard?” He shook his head. “All right. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone.

  The pain in his eyes had turned to panic. “What’s wrong?” Jessica asked.

  “Roxana’s gone.” He grabbed his bag. “I’ve got to go.” He walked to the door.

  “What do I tell Christine?”

  He stopped, then looked back at Jessica. His eyes were dark and hard. “Tell her that I wish her and Martin well.”

  He disappeared behind the closing door. Jessica lay back and put a pillow over her face and cried.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Five

  All is chaos.

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  Christine knocked twice, then pushed the door open into Jim’s room. Her eyes were red and puffy. She was surprised to see Jessica sitting on the bed.

  “Where’s Paul?”

  Jessica exhaled. “He left.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “He went back to the orphanage.”

  “What?”

  “He went home, Chris.”

  “He told you this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was he angry?”

  Jessica wrestled with the truth and what she should say. “He just said to tell you that he went home.”

  Christine went to the phone and dialed Paul’s cell-phone number. There was no answer.

  “That’s all he said?”

  “No.” Jessica looked at her sympathetically. “He said he wished you and Martin well.”

  “You told him that Martin was here?”

  “Of course I did.” Jessica went to put her arms around Christine, but she pulled away angrily.

  “You had no right to do that.”

  “I was just looking out for you.” She walked around to face her. “You told me that all you wanted was a second chance with Martin. He flew all the way from Ohio to Peru to bring you back. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

  Christine sat down on the bed. “Yes. No.” She took a deep breath, then started to cry. “I’m so confused.”

  “I know, honey.” Jessica sat down next to her. “But once you see Martin, everything will be all right. I promise.”

  Chapter

  Thirty-Six

  Christine’s ex-fiancé, Martin, has come for her. Though I am assured that it is all for the best, I cannot feel it. I’ve heard it said that to love someone is not to desire them but to desire their happiness. If this is true then I must question my love—because I desperately desire her.

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  Jessica and Christine carried their bags down to the lobby. Christine found a place to sit alone while Jessica perused the leather purses for sale at the small gift concession. A few minutes later Jim returned, swinging on his crutches, their plane tickets protruding from his front pocket. He hobbled over to Jessica. “How’d it fly?”

  “Like the Hindenburg.”

  “Where’s Paul?”

  “He went home.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “Really? And Christine?”

  “She’s over there.”

  Christine was curled up in the corner of the sofa. “Oh no,” he said.

  “She’s pretty upset.”

  “Will she talk?”

  Jessica shrugged. “You can try.”

  He walked over and sat down on the couch’s arm, leaning his crutches against the wall.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t imagine what you must feel like.”

  “A fool. An idiot. A traitor. Pick one.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t say anything for a moment. “On the other hand, that’s pretty great that your fiancé flew all the way down here to see you. I mean, that’s good, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t answer for a while. “Yes.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, things will work out. They always do.”

  “No, not always,” Christine said.

  “No, not always,” he said. He sat quietly for a moment, then checked his watch. “It’s time to go. Let’s go see how this story ends.”

  Chapter

  Thirty-Seven

  For the second time in my life a child has been lost on my watch.

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  Paul made the thirty-minute drive to Lucre in under twenty minutes. He spun his car out in the hacienda’s gravel driveway and ran into the courtyard yelling for Jaime. Jaime ran out to meet him, his face tight with distress.

  “¿Ya regresó?” Has she returned?

  “No, Señor.”

  “Dónde han buscado?” Where have you looked?

  “Hemos buscado en el pueblo y en el campo.” We’ve checked the village and the surrounding fields and hills.”

  “¿Y después dónde?” And then where?

  “¿En qué otro lugar pudiera ella estar? Si ella hubiera estado caminando alguien la habria visto. Pero nadie la ha visto. Alquien la debe haber robado.” Where else could she be? If she had wandered off, she would have been seen in the village. No one saw her. She must have been taken.

  Jaime’s last words left hi
m breathless. More than anything he didn’t want to believe that someone had taken her. The organized exploitation of children was a cartel generating billions of dollars a year. Worldwide there are more than 2 million children being held in sexual slavery.

  That wasn’t the only means of exploitation. A few years earlier the Cuzco police had broken a ring of Peruvian kidnappers that was sending street children off to Switzerland and Italy to be killed for their organs.

  In either case the chances of her being found were slim. Paul fought back feelings of panic and guilt. She had trusted him to keep her safe and now she was gone.

  Paul called the comandante of the Cuzco Police Department to report Roxana’s disappearance, praying against hope that she might have already been picked up by the police. She hadn’t been. The comandante was a supporter of the orphanage and over the last four years he and Paul had become close friends. He expressed his sincere remorse and promised to look into the matter personally.

  Paul went to his room and found several photographs of Roxana and, taking Richard and Jaime with him, he went to the nearby town of Lucre to look for her.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Eight

  Absence is to love what wind is to fire—it extinguishes the small and inflames the great.

  —Anonymous

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  From the Lima airport Jim hailed them a cab to Larco Mar, a wealthy seaside suburb of Lima. The three of them ate a somber dinner at the Hard Rock Café. Before they finished eating, Christine excused herself and went out alone to think. She walked along the boardwalk to a quiet outlook above the Pacific. She leaned against the rail and watched the waves crash against the rocky coast.

  A half hour later Jessica came up behind her.

  “You okay?”

  Christine didn’t answer. Jessica looked out over the sea. “The ocean always looks so angry at night.”

  Christine continued to look ahead. “How can there be so much wealth here and so much poverty everywhere else?”

  Jessica sighed. “Martin just called. He was checking to see if we made it.” She turned to Christine. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jessica put her arm around her. “I’m sorry this is so hard. But maybe it’s all for the best.”

  “That’s what people say when it couldn’t be worse.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she sniffed. “Do you know that I love you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you say we go?”

  Christine took her hand. “Okay.”

  The cab let them off in front of the Swissôtel, the nicest hotel Christine had seen since she’d come to Peru. As the uniformed porters loaded their bags onto a brass luggage cart, Christine glanced around the marble-floored entryway.

  In the center of the lobby was a large, ornate mahogany table with an enormous crystal vase filled with a spray of fresh flowers.

  Jim checked in for the three of them, then handed Jessica a room key. “You’re on the seventh floor, room 713. I’m one floor down.”

  “What room is Martin in?” Christine asked.

  “Three eleven.”

  Jessica looked at her and smiled. “Go get him, honey.”

  “Good luck,” Jim said.

  “Thanks.” She walked to the elevator, stepped inside and pushed three. Jessica blew her a kiss and Christine forced a smile as the elevator door shut. She got off on the third floor and stopped to look at herself in the hallway mirror. She pulled her hair back, and applied some more lip gloss. Then she walked down the hall to 311.

  Christine could hear the television playing inside the room. She looked down at the gold band Paul had given her. She slipped it off, letting it drop into her pants pocket. Then she knocked. The television went silent. She heard footsteps. The brass chain of the lock slid and the door opened. Martin stood before her.

  For a moment neither one of them spoke, both of them watching the other for some cue as to how to proceed. Martin acted first. He stepped out into the hall and hugged her.

  “It’s so good to see you.”

  Christine leaned into him. “It’s good to see you too.”

  After a moment they released each other and he stepped back. “I’ve been so worried about you. Come in.”

  She followed him inside. The room was pristine, everything in its place. His bag was on the luggage rack, his laptop neatly centered on a glass-topped desk.

  “This is a little nicer than where we’ve been staying,” she said.

  “Not bad for a third-world country,” Martin said. “When your mother told me you’d come to Peru, I was more than a little surprised. Of course I figured that Jessica had something to do with it.”

  “Of course.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better.”

  “I can’t tell you how worried I was when I found out you were sick. I knew I needed to be here for you.”

  Christine didn’t answer.

  He walked over to the table and picked up a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. “When Jessica said you’d be back today, I went out looking for these. You have no idea how hard it is to find roses in Lima.”

  She took the flowers. “Thank you.” There was an awkward silence.

  Martin forced a smile. “Can you believe we’re here? Who would have thought we’d end up in Peru, of all places. Look at you. You’ve gotten so thin. I guess it’s no surprise after what you’ve been through in the last three weeks.”

  “The last three months. And the dengue was the easy part.”

  He smiled in embarrassment. “I deserve that.”

  Christine set the flowers on the bed. “You didn’t even call. Do you have any idea how hurt I was? Did you care?”

  “Of course I cared. I was just so…stupid. And confused.”

  “So what changed?”

  “I guess sometimes you need to lose someone before you realize how much they mean to you.”

  He reached into his pocket. “I know it’s hard for you to trust me. That’s why I came all the way down here. Call it my penance.” He stepped over to her and touched her arm. “I brought you something.” He pulled from his pocket a small velvet jewelry box. His voice lilted. “Do you want to see what’s inside?” She nodded. He smiled and opened the box. Inside was her ring, but the diamond had been replaced with a much larger stone. It was now at least two carats.

  She looked at the ring but didn’t take it. She sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Martin.”

  “Remember how happy you were the first time I gave it to you? You showed it to everyone. Even that weird guy outside the Starbucks.”

  She smiled then chuckled in remembrance. He reached up and touched her cheek. “That’s what I was waiting for, that smile.” He took her hand. “For six years things were good between us, weren’t they?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I made a mistake. Granted, it was a big one…but in six years?” He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “Give me the chance to make it up to you. We still have everything we dreamed of.” He knelt down on one knee, took the ring out of the box and held it out to her. “Give me one more chance. Who could love you like I do?”

  As she looked at the beautiful ring she thought of the simple gold band in her pocket. Then she looked over at the roses.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Nine

  We spend our lives building higher fences and stronger locks, when the gravest dangers are already inside.

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  Paul, Richard and Jaime walked up and down the streets of Lucre, knocking on doors, walking into shops and stopping everyone they saw. No one had seen Roxana.

  At seven o’clock Richard went back to feed the boys while Paul and Jaime continued on until nightfall. Roxana had simply vanished. It was past ten when they returned to the Sunflower. As they pulled down the gravel drive, Paul asked Jaime, “What do the boys know?”

  “They know she’s gone. They’r
e worried.”

  Paul’s frown deepened. “I’ll talk to them.”

  Upon their arrival Paul and Jaime went up to the boys’ dorm. Richard had seen them return and he followed them up the stairs. When they entered the room, the boys fell silent. From the men’s expressions they knew she hadn’t been found.

  Paul said in Spanish, “We haven’t found her. I can’t believe she just disappeared. Someone must have heard something.”

  “We were asleep,” said Deyvis. “We wouldn’t let someone take her.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” Paul looked them over and sighed, “Okay, off to bed.”

  As the boys went to their bunks, only Pablo didn’t move. Paul walked over to him. “Are you afraid?”

  Pablo looked down, then he glanced furtively at Richard but said nothing.

  Paul said slowly, “Tell me in English.”

  Pablo swallowed and continued to stare at the floor. “I heard men talking and I looked down from our window. I saw men and a car.”

  “Did you see Roxana?”

  He shook his head. “I heard a noise. She might have been in the car.” Tears began to well up in his eyes. “I didn’t know she was gone.”

  Paul crouched down in front of him. “It’s not your fault. Do you know what kind of car it was?”

  “It was big.”

  “Had you seen it before?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did you recognize the men?”

  “One.”

  Paul clasped both of his shoulders. “Who was it?”

  He looked down, afraid to say.

  “Whisper it.”

  Pablo leaned forward. “Richard.”

  Paul hugged Pablo. “We’ll find her. Now go to bed.”

  The three men walked back downstairs. Paul bid Richard goodnight and Richard went to the kitchen to finish preparations for the morning. Paul took Jaime aside. A few moments later Paul walked into the kitchen. He asked in Spanish, “Where is Roxana?”