Santiago Sol (8 page)

Her hand snaked past the pouf of pink chiffon and tulle she’d hung on a hanger, and scrabbled against the back wall. A damp, cold weight of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “No,” she whispered.

Frantic, she shoved aside the dress and patted the closet walls, then moved to the floor. When her hands bumped against the knobby stick, which had toppled over in the back of the closet, she moaned aloud and clutched it against her hammering heart as a fresh fear blossomed.

Diego and his accomplice had traveled all the way to Colorado and broken into Eva’s home in search of the walking stick. If he figured out her connection to Eva... She grimaced.

If Eva’s suspicions were correct, people connected to the Sandovals had considered the heirloom murder-worthy. Whoever had it, or knew its whereabouts, would be a quick target. She had to keep the walking stick hidden.

She swallowed an acid lump of fear and tried to pray, but she couldn’t imagine what Jesus would do in a situation like this. What would Eva do? Tansy squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could picture was Eva’s frail form lying in her hospice bed, entreating Tansy to return the walking stick to the patriarch of the Sandoval clan.

“Lord, I want to do what’s right in Your eyes, what’s right for Miss Eva and for her family. She trusted me with this walking stick. Please, tell me what to do.”

She stayed there, forehead pressed to her knees in silence, listening until her body rebelled against the awkward position. She heard... nothing. No audible voice, no inner witness, nothing. The sharp rap at the door had her heart thundering. She scrambled to her feet, dropping the walking stick in her haste. The knock came again.

“Tansy? Are you awake?”

Sebastian. She cast a glance toward the bedside clock. Glowing red numerals told her it wasn’t even eight o’clock.

“I’m awake,” she said, knowing her voice sounded shrill.

“Good. I thought we might have breakfast at Melba’s again.”

She looked back at the bed. “Just a minute,” she shouted toward the door. She had to hide the walking stick, but where? Under the bed? Too obvious. As bad as the closet, she chided herself.

She moved into the living room and spotted the lush potted plants on the balcony, several as tall, or taller, than herself. She chose a mid-sized plant with plenty of thick, dark foliage and jammed the walking stick into the dirt along the plant’s thick stem. Stepping back, she fluffed the leaves and surveyed the results. No hint of the walking stick, not even the glimmer of the silver fox head, was visible.

Shaky, Tansy stepped back inside, closed the door to the balcony, and locked it.

“Tansy?” Sebastian knocked again, concern in his voice.

“Coming!” She hurried to the door and yanked it open.

****

Sebastian took in the tightly-wrapped robe and her frantic expression and knew something was amiss. He stepped inside, closed the door, and placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes scanning the room beyond for signs of an intruder. Diego, in particular. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head with a bit too much force, in his estimation.

“Are you sure?” His grip tightened. “Diego?”

“No. I haven’t seen him.”

Sebastian focused on her face. “Then what’s wrong?”

Her eyes flickered from his gaze.

“I don’t know what to wear,” she said.

The thought of someone hurting her wrenched something deep inside, and Sebastian resisted a primal urge to pin her to the nearest hard surface and demand the truth. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and studied her. “Well, the robe isn’t going to cut it.”

She flashed him a brief smile. “You’re right about that. I’ll just be a minute.” She disappeared into the bedroom without a backward glance.

Sebastian prowled the perimeter of the living area. Her phone was still plugged in to its charger, as was her computer. Nothing appeared to be disrupted or disturbed. Nothing except Tansy herself.

Sebastian had decided to set aside his suspicions and doubts, at least for the day. Tansy’s current behavior was making it difficult. Was she in contact with Diego, or with Arturo, even though she’d told him she wasn’t?

He tensed when the bedroom door opened, revealing Tansy in jeans and boots, her caramel-colored hair pulled up into a messy knot.

“I’m ready,” she said.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what he heard in her voice that jangled his nerves. It was as if the most fragile silver thread had been strung between them, and this morning it was stretched to the breaking point.

****

Tansy smiled at Sebastian for the umpteenth time since they’d left the aparthotel. The bright smiles made her cheeks ache. He’d been silent, even sulky, and she’d tried to cover the tension with nonstop chatter and forced cheer.

His car was waiting for them outside the café, though they’d walked to and from the aparthotel. Tansy allowed him to help her into the passenger seat. “It must be nice,” she said when he climbed in beside her.

“What?”

“The conveniences of wealth.”

He frowned as he glanced in the side mirror. “There are many conveniences. But wealth doesn’t make life perfect.”

She relaxed as he threaded the car through traffic so thick one would have thought it was rush hour instead of a lazy summer Sunday. She was glad for the chance to be quiet. The forced niceties at breakfast had drained her resources, and failed to improve Sebastian’s mood.

The problem, she decided, was that she liked him. She sensed in him the same inner goodness she so valued in Eva, and that made it almost impossible to keep the walking stick a secret. But telling him would break her promise to Eva and put them both in danger. She had to find a way to contact the elder Sandoval. Soon.

The sports car veered to the right and came to a stop outside what looked like a warehouse.

“Is this it?”

“According to the address on the flier.”

Graffiti marred the concrete block walls and trash littered the gutter. A rangy stray dog with the head of a pit bull and the body of a greyhound wandered past the car, sniffing the ground as he went.

Two older women hurried down the sidewalk, huddled elbow-to-elbow and clutching their purses close to their bodies. They knocked on a door painted the same color as the building and camouflaged with the same graffiti. Seconds later, a man in a suit and tie opened the door and ushered the women inside with a smile.

“There it is,” Tansy said, relieved. She reached for the door handle, but Sebastian stopped her.

“Are you certain you want to go in there? I can take you to any number of churches.”

Tansy turned, surprised and saddened that he would judge the ministry by its exterior. But where she thought she would see judgment, she saw apprehension, like that of a small boy on the first day of school. Her heart melted with compassion and the tension she’d felt since he’d knocked on her door that morning drifted away. Perhaps there was more than one reason she was in Chile. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed his fingers.

“I’m sure, Sebastian. Let’s go to church.”

8

When they reached the door, Sebastian hung back, his heart thundering.

Tansy surged ahead and knocked. A smiling young man in a dress shirt and trousers opened the door.

“
Bienvenidos!
Welcome!” He waved them inside.

The building really
was
a warehouse, Sebastian realized as the usher directed them to a pair of unoccupied chairs. Tansy took the aisle seat, forcing him to wedge himself between her and an older woman.

This particular section of the warehouse had been transformed into a church sanctuary, complete with an elevated platform for the worship team and the minister, multiple rows of folding chairs, and a modern video screen upon which weekly announcements were displayed. Hand-lettered banners hanging on the walls declared “
Jesús es el Señor
” and “
Gloria a Dios
” in festive colors.

To Sebastian’s surprise, almost every seat was occupied. There were older women like his abuela— children who fidgeted, poked each other and giggled; young couples; businessmen in suits with their well-dressed wives; and a few individuals he would guess belonged to Santiago’s homeless population. It was a very eclectic group.

Tansy leaned close. “This reminds me of the Statue of Liberty.”

Sebastian blinked. “What?”

She turned those lovely, long-lashed eyes to him. “You know, ‘give me your tired, your poor...’ The whole idea of everyone being welcomed and wanted and valued. It’s how the church should be, but it’s not always that way. It makes me glad to see it here, and I know it will please Eva. I can’t wait to tell her about it.”

The worship team took their places on the platform and everyone stood. Music swelled around them and Sebastian closed his eyes, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. And then he found himself listening to the song, to the lyrics.

The words washed over him. Words of love, peace, and comfort. He knew them, though he couldn’t have explained how or why. And he knew they were true. Peace would never be found anywhere outside of Christ. Not in business success. Not in family honor. Not even in making his abuelo proud. Reminded of his humanity, his place in the universe as a child of God, Sebastian lifted his embittered heart to his Savior in worship for the first time in a long time, and felt tears burn the back of his eyelids as peace washed through him like a gentle rain.

When the song changed, his hands dropped and he opened his eyes, self-conscious, but the peace remained.

Tansy stood beside him, her hands raised, her eyes closed. Though she didn’t know the Spanish words, she sang along in English, oblivious to anything around her except the atmosphere of worship.

Sebastian felt something break loose in his chest, and he knew. This was the woman he’d been waiting for. This was the woman with whom he wanted to spend his life. He shook his head, but the awareness just settled deeper.

She was his.

When the music ended and they took their seats again, the sense of...rightness...stayed with him through the announcements, offerings, and all the usual church business—even the pastor’s message about love and forgiveness and God’s divine plan.

At the end of the service, the two people Sebastian assumed were homeless went forward for prayer. When they turned to face the congregation, their faces were shining. Sebastian joined in the applause.

When the service concluded, Sebastian remained in his seat, immobile.

“Are you ready?” Tansy asked him, touching his arm.

“I’d like to speak with the pastor,” he replied.

“I’m sure that would be all right.”

They waited until the minister had said goodbye to most of the congregation, leaving the helpers and volunteers in the room. When the pastor spotted them, he approached.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Is there anything you need, for the church, I mean?” Sebastian said.

Tansy gave a soft intake of breath.

The pastor smiled. “Things are going well, but we can always do more for outreach.”

Sebastian shook his head, gestured toward the exposed pipes overhead. “For a new building, or for your sanctuary?”

To his shock, the pastor laughed. “You mean because we’re meeting in a section of a warehouse in one of the worst parts of the city?”

Sebastian nodded.

The pastor extended his hand. “Please, let me show you something.”

Sebastian and Tansy followed the minister through a plain door behind the platform where he flipped a switch. Industrial overhead lights buzzed to life, and Sebastian’s brows rose.

A forklift, loaded with shrink-wrapped crates, crossed in front of them. On both sides and as far as the eye could see, scaffolds, loaded with boxes and crates, rose from floor to ceiling.

“What is this?” Sebastian asked.

“We own the building. The vision of the church’s founders was for the poor and the lost, not to build a kingdom with their name on it. We keep the sanctuary small and unassuming, so that we can pour those funds into this.” He gestured toward the endless rows of boxes.

“What’s in them?” Tansy asked.

“Non-perishable food, mostly, and baby supplies. The owner of a South American furniture store chain donates mattresses and slightly damaged furniture. We have a partner in the U.S. who ships in small kitchen appliances and office equipment. The other side of the warehouse is full of building materials, everything from lumber to bathroom fixtures.”

“That’s impressive,” Tansy said.

“It’s what the founders of the ministry wanted. Their vision, and their bylaws, were very clear. I’m privileged to be a part of what they put in place,” the pastor said. “I didn’t catch your names.”

Tansy stuck out her hand. “Tansy Chastain, and this is my friend Sebastian.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I hope you’ll come back to fellowship with our church family,” the pastor said. “Shall we?” He pointed toward the door they had come through.

Tansy led the way back into the now-empty sanctuary.

They said good-bye to the minister and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Sebastian was relieved to see his car still parked outside, and still in one piece.

“Why did you do that?” Tansy demanded once they were on the road again. “Why did you ask what they need?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She turned those changeable eyes on him. “You really would like to help?”

He sighed. “I think what they are doing is admirable. I’d like to see their distribution reports, of course, to know how they manage what comes in, but they seem to be doing a good work, and it’s worthy of support.”

“Something your friend would be proud of,” she murmured.

He shifted into a higher gear as they merged onto the highway. It was a full minute before he responded. “The good that is being done is something you should include in Eva’s memoir,” he said. “A high price was paid for this ministry to be established.” He fell silent.