The Midwife and the Lawman

by Marisa Carroll

  “But I have news from her family. It’s important that I contact her.”

  “I’m sorry.” The smile was no longer quite so polished or polite. “Lucia has taken a leave of absence. That is all I can tell you.”

  “But when will she return? Surely you can tell me that much?”

  “I’m sorry. My hands are tied. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a very important meeting to attend.” She turned away, moving back behind the reception desk.

  “May I leave her a message?”

  “What?” Mrs. Greencastle looked over her shoulder. She frowned as she considered if a message might be another breach of policy she couldn’t condone. “Yes, I suppose I could put it in her mail slot. But as I said, I can’t tell you when she is scheduled to return. You’ll find writing supplies in the desk in the alcove to your left. You may leave the letter with Felicia. She’ll see that I get it.”

  “Thank you.” Devon felt renewed discouragement hit her like cold rain. The woman could be away for three more days. Or three weeks. Or three months. Could she keep the children safe and undetected by the authorities for that long? It would seem she had no other choice. Dejected, she turned around.

  Her grandmother was standing in the archway that separated the dining room from the lobby. She approached Devon, her sandals tapping lightly on the stone floor. “I saw you talking to that woman,” she said. “Is there a problem with the party plans?”

  It would be easy to let her grandmother think she’d been talking about the party and walk away. “I…I was just trying to get a message to someone who works here.”

  “Who would that be? I didn’t think you knew anyone in Enchantment these days.”

  “I…it’s a friend of a friend.”

  “A friend of the children, you mean?” Shrewd gray eyes bored into hers.

  “No. Yes.” Suddenly Devon longed to lay it all before this wise woman. “Their aunt. I’ve been looking for her for the past few days. She’s taken a leave of absence. They won’t tell me where she’s gone.”

  Lydia nodded. “Surely the children know how to contact her?” When Devon didn’t answer, she went on, “There’s more to your taking care of these children than you’ve told me, isn’t there.”

  “Yes.” Devon was relieved to have it out in the open at last. “There is more.”

  Lydia nodded. “I thought so. They’re undocumented, aren’t they.”

  “Yes.”

  “I was afraid of that. And they aren’t a friend’s children, either, are they.”

  “They’re runaways. I found them hiding out in the Silver Jacks mine. They’d been living there for at least two weeks.”

  “Poor things.” Lydia motioned to one of the huge, overstuffed leather sofas that beckoned guests to sit and talk and enjoy the view. “Your mother and Kim are discussing wedding plans. Weddings are filled with detail and scheduling. Myrna and Kim are soul mates in their love of both. They won’t notice we’re gone for another ten or fifteen minutes. Sit down and tell me everything.”

  Devon and Lydia had come a long way back in their relationship over the past few weeks, but it still wasn’t the way it had once been, would never be again. Devon was no longer a starry-eyed little girl. She was a woman, with an aching heart and a secret that had already possibly destroyed what might have been the love of her life. Letting herself be that loving little girl again, even if only for a short time, meant telling her grandmother she was in love with Miguel. And that she couldn’t do—it hurt too much. But she did tell Lydia everything she could about the children’s situation as she stared unseeingly at the ever-changing pattern of cloud shadows on the mountain slopes beyond the lobby’s huge plate-glass windows.

  “Jesse trusts no one,” she added when she finished. “He lives in fear of the three of them being separated, of being sent back to Mexico, penniless and alone.”

  “We should contact a lawyer,” Lydia advised. “One who’s versed in immigration law. You could do it privately. The children wouldn’t have to know.”

  “I’ve considered that.” And the cost. She would have to go to her parents and borrow money. She couldn’t ask Lydia for a loan. Her grandmother had little enough that wasn’t tied up in The Birth Place. “Jesse will surely bolt if I bring a lawyer into the equation. I was worried enough about introducing him to Mom and Dad last night.”

  “The evening went off well, though, didn’t it?”

  Devon braced her elbow on the back of the sofa and rested her cheek on her palm. “Mom and Maria hit it off really well. She bought ice cream and all the fixings for banana splits. Mom is Maria’s friend for life. They’re going shopping together to buy toys. I don’t have enough, she told Dad, in what she thought was a whisper.” Devon smiled at the memory of the little girl, her face smeared with chocolate, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “Jesse was on his best behavior. Dad tried practicing his Spanish on Sylvia. He’s not very good—he had her laughing so hard I was afraid she’d have the baby right then and there.”

  “She’s very close to delivering, Devon,” Lydia said quietly. “Have you been able to get her to talk to Celia?”

  “No.” Devon’s anxiety returned, too strong to be banished by the warm memory of the evening just past. “She’s opened up to me a little, but not much. I wish she would talk to Celia. Perhaps after the baby is born…”

  “It will be a hard decision for her—keep the baby or give it up for adoption.”

  “I know.”

  “She’ll be tempted to keep the baby as an anchor to stay in this country.”

  “Actually, I think she’ll be even more inclined to keep it because she’s a loving, giving young woman.” Was Sylvia mature enough to raise her baby on her own? Devon would do everything in her power to support Sylvia in that event, but would her best be good enough?

  A couple came out of the restaurant hand in hand, laughing, heads close together, and headed for the elevator. A married couple on a summer getaway? Honeymooners on their way to their room to make love in the afternoon? A sharp pain stabbed through Devon’s chest. Love in the afternoon. She had made love to Miguel once when they were young under the summer sun on the banks of Silver Creek. She couldn’t let herself think about Miguel now. Perhaps not ever again.

  She turned her head. “Here come Mother and Kim.” Myrna and Devon’s cousin were advancing toward them along the stone wall that bordered the terrace. Myrna was talking, though lecturing would be a more accurate description. Devon could tell by the way she moved her hands. Kim was listening attentively, her head bent at a slight angle toward her aunt. They halted momentarily and Myrna raised a hand to touch the rose-quartz earrings Kim wore.

  Lydia was watching them, too. Her own hand went to her pendant. “They are very alike, your mother and Kim. Have you noticed?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Does it bother you?” she asked.

  Devon didn’t hesitate. “No. I’m happy for them. And I’ve always wanted a sister. Perhaps one day Kim and I will be that close. I hope so.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  Lydia’s eyes went once more to her daughter and granddaughter. Myrna and Kim, both smiling, continued to approach.

  “I…I should write my note to the kids’ aunt,” Devon said. “Can you divert Mom’s attention for another five minutes or so?”

  Lydia made a face. “I’ll try, although I haven’t been very successful diverting your mother from something she’s interested in since she was about two.” She rose from the couch and moved toward the huge sliding doors that opened onto the terrace. “Be quick,” she advised.

  Devon hurried toward the little alcove where Mrs. Greencastle had indicated she would find paper and pen. She didn’t have time for a detailed explanation of how she came to have the children in her charge. She simply supplied her name and all the phone numbers she could think of. In both Spanish and English she asked Lucia to contact her as soon as she received the note, day or night, as she had important inf
ormation about her nieces and nephew. Perhaps the woman was even looking for them herself? That might explain why she’d left her job at Angel’s Gate at this precise moment in time. Devon hoped that was the case. She folded the single sheet of paper, sealed it in an envelope bearing the resort’s name and took it to the desk where Felicia waited.

  Felicia looked over her shoulder, down the hallway where Mrs. Greencastle had disappeared. “The lady you were talking with, the elderly señora?”

  “My grandmother,” Devon said. She could hear her mother’s imperious tones filtering through the open doors from the terrace.

  “She is la comadrona, no?”

  “Yes, my grandmother is a midwife. Do you know her?”

  “Señora Kane delivered my sister’s baby. She came all the way out to her house on Saddleback Road in a snowstorm. She didn’t care that my sister had no money.”

  “Your sister and her baby, they’re doing well?”

  Felicia smiled, and the polished politeness of the well-trained employee vanished, to be replaced with a brilliant smile. “Yes. Very well.” She leaned slightly closer over the counter. “I know Lucia Molina,” she said quietly.

  Devon felt her heart rate accelerate. “Do you know where she is?”

  “I think she went to Phoenix. There is a problem in her family. She was very upset when she left.”

  “Do you know what kind of family problem?” Had Lucia learned that the children had disappeared and gone in search of them while they were making their way to her?

  “I’m sorry, señorita. You must realize that it is…difficult…for some of us here. We must be very discreet, not draw attention to ourselves. I can only tell you that she was very worried when she left.”

  “Can you tell me how to get in touch with her?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, truly. I don’t have a number or an address where I can reach her. But she might call me.” Her eyes dropped to the envelope, then lifted to Devon’s face once more. “To see how the wind is blowing, you know? To make sure that management is not growing impatient with her being away.”

  “I see. Of course. Please. If she calls, tell her to get in touch with me. It’s very important. I’ll leave you my name and number.” Devon scribbled both on the back of a business card she took from a holder on the counter. Felicia slipped it into her pocket just as Mrs. Greencastle reappeared.

  “You’re still here.”

  “Yes. Here’s the letter.”

  The woman held out her hand. “I’ll see that it’s placed where Señora Molina will find it if and when she returns.”

  “Thank you.” Devon had no doubt the woman would be as good as her word. But she was also certain she wouldn’t go out of her way to let Lucia know Devon was trying to contact her. She just hoped that the young desk clerk would.

  MIGUEL CLIMBED out of the Durango and reached back inside for his hat. If the meeting with the Angel’s Gate management team to discuss their fire evacuation plan went smoothly enough, he might have time for a sandwich before he left on patrol. Enchantment had a mutual-aid pact with the county sheriff’s department, so getting the guests and employees of Angel’s Gate down off the mountain in case of a fire emergency was his responsibility. He damned well wanted to make sure they had a workable plan in place. The doorman hurried up. “Good afternoon, Chief Eiden.” He motioned to the valet who was already trotting toward them from his stand at the far curve of the brick-paved, half-timbered entry.

  He recognized the kid in the white shirt, red vest and bolero tie as the star fullback of the high-school football team. Angel’s Gate had provided a lot of jobs for the town, even though there had been some resentment when it was built. “Leave it here, Randy,” he said, waving the valet off. The doorman, done up in an ersatz Beefeater coat and top hat, looked pained to see the dusty SUV parked in the middle of his domain. “Official business,” Miguel growled. The doorman backed off with a hasty tip of his hat.

  Halting a moment just inside the lobby doors, Miguel removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the pocket of his shirt. He let his eyes rake over the huge sweep of stone floor, vaulted ceiling and picture-postcard view of mountain and ski slopes. He just hoped it still looked that good in another twenty-four hours. The storms that were predicted to roll in during the night wouldn’t bring much rain, but they would mean lightning strikes. A lot of them. The fire danger was almost off the meter. It would be a miracle if one or more of them didn’t set off a blaze somewhere on the mountain.

  He flexed his left hand and winced. Not from pain, although the healing skin was still uncomfortable at times. He no longer wore a gauze bandage, hadn’t for a couple of days. It was bulky and interfered with his work, but mostly because it reminded him of the gentle touch of Devon’s fingers. And that always led to the truly painful realization that he might never experience that pleasure again.

  Of course, damned near everything he did reminded him of Devon in one way or another. Like right now. The woman walking across the lobby toward the dining room—he could swear it was her. She was wearing khaki slacks and a pale-green, silky-looking shirt, open at the throat, sleeves rolled up to just below her elbows. Her honey-toned hair was braided close to her head in that complicated way he’d never understood how a woman on her own could accomplish.

  She looked casual and feminine, her blouse clinging to the soft curves of her breasts, the khaki molding itself to her rounded bottom with every step. Sexy as hell. If he’d come across her up here a hundred years ago, he could have thrown her across his saddle and ridden off into the hills. Of course in those days he would probably have been hunted down by the U.S. Cavalry or her outraged male relatives and strung up on the closest tree branch, but it would have been worth it.

  Today he’d probably settle for scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to one of the posh suites on the top floor of the hotel, stripping her naked, sliding into the hot tub with her… The woman must have sensed his scrutiny, because her steps faltered and she half turned, glancing over her shoulder in his direction.

  Miguel blinked in surprise. It was Devon. He should have known his libido wouldn’t get this revved up about just any woman. She didn’t seem any too pleased to see him. From the look she gave him, she wouldn’t have had to rely on the cavalry to rescue her from his advances, she could damn well do it herself. But as he moved closer, he imagined there was as much sorrow as anger in her storm-cloud gray eyes.

  “I didn’t expect to see you up here on a Thursday afternoon,” he said, making a preemptive strike as he came to a halt a safe three feet from her. She smelled as good as she looked, like wildflowers and meadow grass. His chest tightened and he found it hard to take a full breath. He hadn’t seen her for a week. Seven long days. Seven interminable nights.

  “No more than I expected to see you,” she said, and her voice wasn’t quite as steady as her gaze. He hooked his thumb in his utility belt and the movement drew her eye. “Your hand. It’s healing okay?”

  “It’s coming along.” He held it up for her to see. He’d covered the blistered area with a wide adhesive bandage.

  She reached out as though to touch him, to reassure herself, then stopped with her fingers inches from his hand. She stuck her hand in the pocket of her pants. “That’s good,” she said. “Why are you here?”

  “I need to go over fire-evacuation plans with the management.”

  She nodded, needing no further explanation. “We’re here for lunch.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. My parents are visiting, and it’s a chance for Mother and Kim to get to know each other.”

  Movement behind her made him glance over her shoulder. Lydia Kane and Kim Sherman were walking toward them with an elegant, sharp-eyed blond woman between them. An older, more sophisticated, version of the woman he loved. Myrna Grant. He hadn’t seen her since he was a teenager, but she hadn’t changed much in the past twelve years. He was glad he had, though. She’d intimidated the hell out of him as a kid.


  “Devon, who have we here?” she asked as the trio came to a halt beside them.

  “It’s Miguel Eiden, Mom. You remember him, don’t you?”

  “It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Mrs. Grant.” He took off his hat and resisted running his hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t plastered to his skull. He nodded toward Lydia and Kim. “Ladies.” Lydia returned his greeting with a slight inclination of her head. Kim smiled a hello.

  “Miguel Eiden? Devon, is this the boy you had such a crush on all those years ago?”

  “Yes, Mother. But that was a long time ago. These days we’re just…friends,” Devon responded before he could form a neutral answer. He was a Marine and a cop, pretty good at not letting what he felt show on his face, but the words cut like a knife. The boy she had a crush on all those years ago? What about the man who loved her now? Just friends? If he looked over at her, would he see pain and hurt that equaled his? Or merely embarrassment and relief that their uncomfortable affair was ended?

  “You’re Elena Elkhorn’s son. I remember her from high school. She was a senior the year I was a freshman, I believe. She’s well, I hope?”

  “Yes, ma’am, she’s well.”

  “The last I heard you were in the Marines.” Myrna spoke into the silence that had descended on the group.

  “I’m still in the reserves, ma’am.”

  “Miguel’s Enchantment’s chief of police,” Devon said. She had herself under control now. He might have thought she wasn’t bothered at all by his showing up if the hand she’d shoved into the pocket of her pants wasn’t balled into a fist. “He’s here to go over the resort’s evacuation plan if there’s a fire in the area.”

  “Are you worried the storms I hear predicted will start a fire, Chief?” Myrna asked.

  “As dry as it is around here, ma’am, it’s always a possibility.”

  Myrna’s gaze traveled to the view beyond the windows. “Maybe we’ll all be lucky and there’ll be a lot more rain than the weatherman has predicted.”