Endless Chain (39 page)

Outside, she saw that he had been busy as she dressed. He had shoveled a narrow path to the edge of the woods by his house. The sun was beginning to break through; the world was coming to life before their eyes.

“The snow has stopped,” she said softly.

“It’s performed its magic. The world is new and clean and pure.”

The air was so cold it burned her lungs. Despite that, she felt exhilarated, born anew, and she turned to him and reached for his hands. “What do we do? What do we say?”

“Whatever we want.” He laughed a little. “And quickly.”

She was suddenly tongue-tied. As if he knew, he leaned down and kissed her.

“Alicia Maria Estrada de Santos—”

“How did you remember that?”

“From the first moment I saw you, I paid complete attention to everything you said and everything about you.”

Whatever doubts she still had melted away. “And I to you.”

His gaze chased away the cold. “You are my dearly beloved, the only witness I need today. I, Samuel Conner Kinkade, take you as my wife. I will hold you forever, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty, in good times and bad, whether you are near or far. I will keep you in my heart even when you can’t be in my arms. I will love, cherish and protect you with every breath I take. With God as my witness, I will never forsake you.”

He kissed her left hand, where no ring could be placed. “And a passage I have excerpted in nearly every wedding I have presided over. From First Corinthians, 13.

“‘If I speak with the eloquence of men and of angels, but have no love, I become no more than blaring brass or crashing cymbal. If I have the gift of foretelling the future and hold in my mind all human knowledge, but have no love, I amount to nothing.

“‘This love of which I speak is slow to lose patience. It is not possessive: it is neither anxious to impose nor does it cherish inflated ideas of its own importance.

“‘Love does not keep account of evil or gloat over the wickedness of others. It is glad when truth prevails. Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust. It is the one thing that still stands when all else has fallen.

“‘So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.’”

He paused. “May our love be so,” he finished.

Her throat closed. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Then, from somewhere, she found her voice.

“Samuel Conner Kinkade, I, Alicia Santos, take you as my husband. Because, despite everything that can and will come between us, despite loving you so much I want only to protect you, I cannot forsake you. I will hold you in my heart forever, love and cherish you no matter what our future holds. With God as our only witness, I promise to remember this moment in all the moments to come.”

She squeezed his hands. “I learned a poem in school as a girl, by a Spanish poet named Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, and I’ve never forgotten it. May I recite it for you?”

“Please.”

“Many things can happen,” she translated. “The sun could cast nothing but shadows, the sea could evaporate and the axis of the earth could break like crystal. Death could cover me, but in the flame of your love, I will never die.”

They gazed at each other as the world turned lighter. Then, as the sun broke free of clouds and sparkled on the unbroken cover of snow, they went inside, arm in arm.

T
he telephone rang at seven. Sam was making coffee, and he answered it with one hand while he ran water into the decanter with the other. Elisa watched him manage both and still use his toe to bring one of the dog’s bowls closer so he could fill it once a hand was free. She was surprised he wasn’t using his elbows, too.

He hung up after a brief conversation, but Elisa, who was taking inventory of his upper cabinets, already knew the upshot. “That was Gayle. She thinks we should cancel services today. I told her the road hasn’t been plowed here, and she said the highway department’s not making any promises to get as far as the church this morning. Early Meeks lives close enough that he can put a sign on the doors and a message on the answering machine. Gayle’s going to put the closing on the radio, and I’ll call the staff and board. We have a phone tree for emergencies. Consider yourself notified.” He shot her a grin.

“I imagine Gayle didn’t expect notifying me to be so easy.”

“I imagine Gayle would be pleased to know you’re here. She likes you.”

There was nothing to say to that. Elisa suspected Gayle would never find out. “Will some people try to come to services anyway?”

“With this kind of storm, most everyone will check the radio or call to be sure we’re going to open our doors. But we’ve never canceled during my ministry. This caught everyone by surprise, including the snow removal crews.”

“It’s selfish, but I’m glad you don’t have to be there. Not this morning.”

“Ethically, I’m forbidden to say the same.” He winked at her.

They had eaten all the bagels last night, and there was no bread. Elisa wasn’t having any luck finding a substitute. “Do you have pancake mix?”

“That would require real cooking.”

“Flour, baking powder?”

“Not likely.”

“Eggs?”

“Yes.”

She began to rummage through the lower cabinets. She found a box of blueberry muffin mix and held it out in triumph. “Breakfast!”

“I forgot about that. One of our families moved to Iowa and left me a grocery bag from their pantry. I also have canned salmon, Hamburger Helper and four jars of pickled beets. If you’re interested.”

“Maybe another day.” She kissed his ear. “I’ll be the cook, you can wash the dishes.”

He gave her a one-armed bear hug. “Hey, you haven’t tried my cooking.”

“Which is why I’m alive to have this conversation.” She laughed as he squeezed her harder. “I’ll help you clean up. It won’t be so bad.”

They worked well together. While the muffins baked, she whipped eggs and grated cheese. Sam poured orange juice and set the table. The dogs, who had slept through most of the excitement that morning, romped through the kitchen, showing off for their guest. Just before the muffins came out, she made the omelet, finishing it off in the broiler as Sam poured the coffee. She was aware of every sweet, ordinary moment.

In the dining room, Sam pulled out her chair. “We won’t have many Sunday mornings together. I’m always at church. This is a bonus.”

He was so determined to point out that their marriage was real and somehow, despite everything, normal.
She
didn’t point out they would probably never have Sunday mornings together, and not because Sam was a minister.

“We should have the
New York Times.
Reading it from one end to the other on Sunday morning, that’s my fantasy….” He grinned. “At least it’s one of them. The other was having you sitting there across from me.”

“I would settle for you and
El Periódico.
From Guatemala City.”

“I’ll really need to learn Spanish now, won’t I? So when you’re free to go home again, I can go with you and make myself understood.”

“Sam…”

“It’s not impossible. Don’t say it is. First we’re going to search for your brother. Then—”

They could not go on pretending. “My friends in Mexico? They hired an investigator, a good one. And my father’s cousins in El Paso? They spend hours each week in places a boy like Ramon might go to find work, hoping they will spot him. There’s a lawyer in Guatemala City who has proved trustworthy. Judy sends him what money she can. His investigation there, in the city itself and in the Highlands, has cost him at least four times that much, although he doesn’t think we know it. No one has found Ramon.”

He gazed steadily at her over his coffee cup. “No one found you, either.”

She frowned, not sure of his point.

“Come on, Elisa, you’re sure people are looking,” he went on. “They tried to kill you once and from everything you told me last night, you’re a time bomb for Morales and his political future. If he’s as influential as you say, he’s most likely rich.” He waited for her nod. “And if he’s rich, he can hire people to find you. But have there been additional attempts on your life?”

“Not so far.”

“Because you’ve hidden yourself well, and because you’ve trusted few people to help and chosen them wisely. So why believe your brother is different? You raised him. He was, what, fourteen when Gabrio died?”

“Fifteen.”

“Then he’s eighteen now?”

“I pray he is.”

“Trust me, there’s no wilier creature than a boy that age. Speaking as someone who remembers. And by now, protecting himself will be a habit so deeply ingrained that the real problem will be taking chances at all. I lay awake last night and tried to put myself in his shoes. If it
was
Ramon who called your friend, then he’s torn between coming here to find you and worrying it might be a trap. He didn’t call back, did he?”

She shook her head.

“That might show he’s afraid he gave himself away. So there’s no chance you’re going to find him waiting on Community’s front steps one morning. When he gets to Virginia, he’ll hang around the edges of things, listen without asking questions, hope he spots you. He won’t know who to trust, so he won’t trust anybody.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Wait. Pray. Go to the places a newcomer might go to find a room or a job.”

“I have done that, over and over.”

“Have you asked your friends here to watch for him?”

“No.”

“Could you do it without giving away who he is? Say he’s a cousin of a friend who has run away? The more people who watch for him…”

“And what name would I tell them? Who would I tell them to watch for?”

“Tell them he probably won’t be using his real name.”

“So they would recognize him how?”

“A photograph.”

“I didn’t run into the night clutching our family album, Sam. I have only the school photograph the newspapers ran after Gabrio was killed that I got from the Internet. It is three years old. Never a good likeness to begin with.”

“But better than nothing. Your friends would tell you if they suspected anybody might be the boy you were looking for.”

“Ramon is a man now. My baby…” She hoped it was true.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “Make a list of the friends here you know you can trust. Tell them as much of the truth as you dare. What’s your choice? Going back to Guatemala? Throwing yourself on the mercy of our government? You may have to do one or the other, but isn’t it worth trying this first?”

She thought of Adoncia, of Patia and Inez. They were good friends, and each of them had contacts she lacked. She laced her fingers through his. “You want me to stay as long as I can, don’t you?”

“I want you to stay forever. I never want to leave Toms Brook unless we’ve decided to move somewhere else because it’s right for us. But the first step toward that goal is finding Ramon.”

She said a prayer to the God she claimed not to believe in.

Mack arrived at three. Sam had spent part of the day on the phone with church members, part in bed with his wife. The plows had come just after noon, but Mack’s was one of only a handful of cars to brave their road. Sam was glad to see him.

After he’d shaken the snow from his boots, Mack went straight to Elisa and pulled her into his arms for a hug. “I owe you everything,” he told her.

She returned his hug before she stepped away. “The hospital refused to tell us anything. We called this morning and this afternoon.”

“They’re both doing well. Tessa could go home tomorrow morning, but they want to keep Ian an extra day, just to be sure.”

“Ian?”

“Ian William MacRae. After both our fathers. He’s doing great. Just shy of six pounds. The pediatrician says if he had been full-term they would have needed a tractor to haul him out.”

She winced. “That’s an image I would like to erase.”

“He also said it was an incredible stroke of luck that you worked with a midwife in Mexico and knew exactly what to do. That one wrong move…”

She smiled. “That’s what Tessa told him?”

“She spun a yarn you could knit a dozen baby blankets from. I had no idea she could lie so adeptly.”

“Thank you.”

“For what? For not telling the hospital a dangerous fugitive delivered our son and saved his life, and they should send the police to apprehend her?”

“Well, for that, yes. Particularly the last part.”

“You have time to tell me the whole story?”

Elisa glanced at Sam. He nodded, glad she was willing. “I’ll make another pot of coffee and warm the muffins. Tell him everything, Lisa Marie.”

She narrowed her eyes. He escaped into the kitchen.

He could hear the low hum of conversation from the den as he took his time making coffee again. Mack was asking a lot of questions. By the time Sam joined them, Mack had a pad and pen and was jotting notes as they spoke.

Sam put mugs in front of them, and returned with cream and sugar. Mack was still jotting. Elisa had finished telling her story.

“You need to know,” Sam said, “that Elisa and I are committed to each other, no matter what happens. I’m in this, too.”

“What’s one more complication?” Mack sipped a little coffee and didn’t smile. “We have everything here. Murder, political intrigue, a fugitive, a missing person, false documents, a U.S. citizen escaping illegally into her own country.” He lifted his shoulders, and they stayed there for a long moment. “That one’s pretty unique. Romance…” He finished the shrug.

“Maybe you can impress on Sam how hopeless this is,” Elisa said. “He is blinded by love.”

“Not hopeless,” Mack said. “Not at all. But tricky.”

“Tricky?” Elisa clearly thought that was an understatement.

“Times ten.” Mack put down the cup. “But not impossible. I’m going to have to pull every gambit I’ve ever heard of. But I’ve heard of plenty, and I know plenty of people who’ve heard more, including the best extradition lawyer in the United States.”

“I can’t afford to pay you,” she said. “I’m certain everything Gabrio and I had must be gone now.”

“Do you think I’d take a penny? I’ll owe you for the rest of my life. We’ll worry about my friend’s fees later. He may do this
pro bono.
He likes the limelight.”

“Limelight?”

He held up his hands. “Not right away. When it’s necessary. But at some point you’ll have to step forward and tell your story, and it’s the kind of story that will hit the papers.”

“And Ramon? What reason would Martin have not to find and kill my brother, who can back up what I’ve said?”

“First we have to find Ramon.” Mack touched her hand. “Or we have to find out what happened to him.”

Her eyes filled.

Sam looked away. “There’s a woman I’ve been counseling, an investigative reporter for the
Post.
And her husband has the ear of some important people in the government. Could she help?”

“A reporter?” Elisa said. “Isn’t she an unlikely ally? Her job is to tell the world everything she knows and hint at things she doesn’t.”

“Once your version of the murder is on record, Morales will have less reason to try to kill you. He would be the first suspect if anything happened to you, and he’ll know it. Once we know about Ramon, it might be the right way to go.”

Mack got to his feet. “Give me her name, and maybe when the time’s right I’ll get in touch with her. Right now I have to figure out exactly how to proceed. And I won’t do a thing until I have your okay, Elisa. You can veto any idea I come up with. But I’m in this with you.”

She stood, too, and held out her hands. He took them, leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Tessa wants you to be Ian’s godmother.” He glanced at Sam. “You’ll do the christening?”

“With the greatest pleasure.”

They watched as Mack patted the dogs goodbye, then made his way back to his car.

“Get used to this,” Sam said. “You’re not alone anymore.”

“I am terrified.”

He put his arms around her and pulled her close.