Captive Heart (22 page)

When the landing strip came into view, JoNell tuned out the discussion going on between Del Toro and the doctor. She lined the plane up with the grassy strip of land and asked help from a higher source to see her through this landing. She eased the plane down with more skill than she'd realized she possessed. When the wheels touched the turf, she worked the brakes with a controlled fury, her slender fingers squeezing the stick with apprehension.

The plane rolled to a stop with the propeller tickling the tall grass just beyond the clearing. A gasp of relief escaped JoNell's lips, but Del Toro didn't notice. This time, there were no men in the field tending their llamas. There were no happy shouts of "Del Toro! Seňor Del Toro!" Only an eerie silence permeated the air. She could already see signs of devastation—huge trees toppled over. And she shivered when she glanced up and saw buzzards circling in the blue sky.

JoNell had seen the aftermath of hurricanes. She knew the devastation a natural disaster could cause. She steeled herself for the grim sights they would see in the village.

Del Toro and the doctor each grabbed a box from the luggage compartment of the plane. JoNell took a smaller one. The three set out on the dusty path that JoNell remembered so well, but thought she'd never see again.

When they reached a point where she remembered seeing the first roofs of dwellings, there was nothing but the blankness of the blue sky. JoNell gasped.

They hurried into the clearing. To the right and left, adobe huts lay in ruins. All that was left standing were a few crumbled adobe walls. A llama rug whipped in the breeze around a scrubby brush. Bits of gaily colored ponchos peeked out from beneath torn sections of straw mats that had once been beds. There wasn't a person stirring in the rubble.

JoNell looked up at Del Toro. His eyes, grim and steely, took in the sight of roofs caved in on shattered dwellings. "Where is everybody?" JoNell asked. She had an eerie sensation of being alone in the world with only Del Toro and Dr. Torres.

"Let's find out," Del Toro said. He led the trio past the section of adobe huts to the part of the village where the brick cottages had stood. Some of them had been completely destroyed. But here and there some houses were intact. Everything looked so different, so chaotic, that JoNell lost her sense of direction. She couldn't determine which had been Angelita's cottage and which had been the cottage she had shared with Del Toro. Then she located their cottage. Only one wall remained standing. Tears burned her eyes. During those brief days she had spent here, that humble cottage had seemed much more like a home than Del Toro's elegant mansion in Lima. And now it was destroyed.

In this area, JoNell saw a few Indian villagers scraping through the rubble of their homes, a blank expression on their faces. One snaggle-toothed old man, his face wrinkled from years in the hot sun, looked at them without seeing. Then a faint light flickered in his fading black eyes. "Seňor Del Toro," he called weakly. Then he and Del Toro spoke briefly in the native language.

"The people have all gone to the marketplace," Del Toro explained. "The earthquake did the least damage there."

"Does he know anything about Angelita?" JoNell asked anxiously.

Del Toro spoke to the man again, then shook his head, and motioned them on to the marketplace.

The closer they came to the marketplace, the fewer structures were destroyed. When they rounded the last corner, they came upon a makeshift first-aid station. Injured people were lying on straw mats and llama rugs on the ground. Moans of pain were everywhere. There were anguished sobs of persons bending over some of the deathly still. The children played quietly while cries of pain and sorrow were heard in the background.

Immediately, Del Toro began unpacking medical supplies and the doctor ripped off his coat and went to work over the more seriously hurt. A crowd of men gathered around Del Toro, who rattled to them in their strange dialect. He gestured broadly. They nodded and then were gone.

"They're going to bring the rest of the supplies from the plane," he said. "As soon as it's unloaded, I want you to fly back to Lima for more. Miguel will meet you at the airport."

"But what about Angelita?" JoNell protested. "I can't leave until I know what's happened to her."

Del Toro called to an Indian woman sitting beside a small child on the ground. She mumbled something incomprehensible to JoNell. Del Toro motioned for JoNell to follow her. She led the way to the interior of the market building. There, they found more injured. Anxiously, JoNell searched among the dark-haired women. Finally, she spied a familiar head. Immense relief flooded her. She made her way through the rows of injured and to the side of Angelita.

The woman was crooning softly to a man JoNell recognized as Angelita's escort the night of the special festival.

"Angelita! I'm so glad you're all right."

The woman turned to look at her. Her face was deeply lined with grief and fatigue. Her eyes widened with surprise. "JoNell! What are you doing here?"

"I came to help," she said simply. "Is this your friend, Carlos?"

"Yes," Angelita said tearfully. "He has been badly injured, and he is in such pain. If only we had a doctor."

"You do now," JoNell reassured her. "Jorge had me fly a doctor here with medical supplies. He's outside the marketplace right now, taking care of the injured."

"Oh,
gracias por Dios
," she wept. "We knew Jorge would come to help us. Please tell the doctor to hurry."

"I will," JoNell promised. She rejoined Del Toro and they went to tell Dr. Torres about the injured Carlos.

"I'll walk back to the plane with you," Del Toro said. "But you'll have to fly back by yourself. They need me to help here."

"Yes, I know." She felt a sudden wave of pride to be walking beside this big man. In his commanding way, he was a tower of strength here in the mining village. Miguel had spoken the truth when he said the people here loved and respected him. She remembered how Angelita had said with simple faith, "We knew Jorge would come to help us."

They were halfway to the airplane when they heard a terrified shriek. They both responded immediately, running in the direction of the agonized cry. Del Toro outdistanced JoNell considerably. Her breathing was labored from the thin oxygen. She arrived in front of a crumbling hut to find a young woman sobbing hysterically and pointing to the rubble.

Del Toro shoved the woman aside roughly. "Keep her here," he ordered. "No matter what, don't let her follow me."

JoNell gasped when she saw what was causing the woman's agitation. Sticking out from under the crumbled adobe was a tiny arm clutching a toy llama. Poised right above the debris was a huge slab of heavy adobe hanging precariously on more wreckage. Del Toro maneuvered gingerly through the mangled bits of furniture and caved in roof. JoNell's mouth went dry. She clutched the woman's shoulders with a fierceness born of panic. At any moment, the slab could tumble free from its tenuous support and come crashing down on Del Toro and the child, burying them both in a rock-like grave. Del Toro bent over the little arm and began gently lifting pieces of plaster and wreckage. A gust of wind blew through the ruined building and the adobe slab swayed menacingly over Del Toro's head. He paused, looked up momentarily, then resumed this task with the same gentleness, but at a faster pace. The young woman began to babble hysterically again. She fought to pull free of JoNell's clutch.

"I'm not sure I can hold her," JoNell yelled in fright.

"Slap her hard across the face," Del Toro commanded.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"Do what I say!"

JoNell obeyed, swinging her palm as hard as she could.

The young woman gasped. But the glassy look faded from her eyes. She collapsed into JoNell's arms, sobbing, but no longer struggling to free herself.

JoNell held the woman and turned her attention back to Del Toro. He had uncovered the upper half of a small, dark boy with curly black hair. Again the wreckage groaned, and the adobe wall teetered precariously.

"Hurry!" JoNell called frantically. "It's not going to hang there much longer."

Del Toro now began to dig furiously at the rubble. He pulled on the boy's torso, but still could not free him. He dug still further until he uncovered a bed frame which was pinning the boy's small foot. Perspiration glistened on his forehead. His powerful muscles bulged as he lifted the bed frame which was weighed down with piles of rubble. At last he was able to free the limp child. The young woman in JoNell's arms began sobbing again.

There was a loud
crunch
! JoNell screamed. The adobe slab that had been threatening the lives of Del Toro and the boy came crashing down, missing them by inches as he darted out of the way.

JoNell's knees threatened to give way. The young woman rushed to Del Toro and the boy. She was again babbling tearfully.

Del Toro interpreted for JoNell. "She has been searching for the boy ever since the earthquake. She found him just as we were passing by. The boy is still breathing. We're going to take him to Dr. Torres. You go on back to Lima for more supplies."

JoNell nodded, wiping her damp palms on her jump suit. Del Toro was dusty and sweat-stained. His shirt had been torn, revealing powerful muscles. He was magnificent. JoNell remembered the day on the polo grounds when she had likened him to a fierce conquistador. Her throat felt tight as admiration and love for him welled up in her.

She turned quickly, before he saw what was in her eyes. She hurried away, down the dusty lane, half blinded by tears. After this crisis was over, there would be a quick divorce. She would return to the States and probably never see Jorge Del Toro again. But the memory of his strength and bravery would remain a part of her for as long as she lived.

JoNell made her second round trip with supplies from Lima safely. As the men unloaded the plane, she marveled at the calm manner in which Del Toro had taken charge of the village. He had organized the men into clean-up crews and had set up a portable kitchen. The high altitude and thin oxygen did not seem to affect him. His energy seemed boundless. Where the village had appeared stunned and demoralized when JoNell first surveyed the wreckage, now there was a spirit of hope and optimism. And she knew the whole village was drawing its strength from Jorge Del Toro.

JoNell flew back to Lima for her final load of supplies with a feeling of deep sadness. She truly felt sorry for herself that her marriage to this remarkable man had not been a real marriage. How empty her life was going to be…

This time Miguel was her passenger on the flight back to the village. JoNell took off with a feeling of apprehension. This final load was heavier than the others. But so much was needed that she and Miguel had crammed every inch of space with supplies. Miguel added to the weight problem. He was not a light man. He weighed in excess of two hundred pounds, she was sure. But darkness was fast approaching, and the villagers were in dire need of every ounce of supplies she could ferry in. So she took a chance that the plane could bear the load.

After a sluggish takeoff, JoNell concentrated on trying to maintain the right altitude. She and Miguel spoke little, each too wrapped up in concern over the village to engage in idle chatter. Approaching nightfall added to JoNell's worries. Was she cutting the time estimate too thin? With the added weight and no tail wind, the flight was taking much longer than she had planned. Already the jungle below was a mass of twilight shadows. Sunset among the mountain peaks was a magnificent sight, with golden rays arcing across the violet sky. Another time she would have felt a breathless thrill at the sight. But now all she could think of was how to make a landing on that skimpy meadow in the dark. Knowing how resourceful Del Toro was, she thought he'd no doubt have the men build bonfires along the landing strip. But would that be enough?

She was debating whether the prudent thing to do would be to go back to Lima and start out in the morning when the plane suddenly began to sputter. Her gaze darted to the gas tank gauge. There was plenty of fuel. The problem was something else. She worked the throttle back and forth to try and restore power. She breathed easier when the engine coughed back to life and purred contentedly. But her relief was short-lived. Again the engine began missing. JoNell's gaze raced over the instruments. Her eyes widened when she saw the temperature gauge. It was inching into the danger zone. Her mouth felt dry. She pulled all the tricks she could think of out of her mental bag of airplane skills, but nothing helped. The altimeter needle began to swing downward. The engine ran rougher and rougher.

"What's the matter?" Miguel asked nervously.

"I'm not sure," JoNell admitted, "but all that weight in the back of the plane isn't helping matters any."

"Can we make it to the village?"

"I don't know, Miguel," she confessed, her hands growing clammy. "We're going down fast. We may have to make a forced landing."

"You mean we're going to crash?" Miguel asked fearfully.

"No," she tried to reassure him, "I'll just have to find a place to land here. If I can find a smooth, flat surface, I can land the plane just like at an airport."

"But then what do we do? We are many miles from civilization here in the mountains."

"I'll radio for help. I'll give our position as near as I can figure it. Then we may have to wait until a search party finds us. It may take a while, but we have a whole plane full of supplies. We won't starve, at least—"

The engine suddenly died completely. There was an eerie silence broken only by the lonely moan of the wind around the airplane.

"
Madre de Dios
," Miguel whimpered. He clasped his hands and began to pray.

JoNell hoped Miguel had a good patron saint because they were going to need the help of providence: She saw only occasional smooth patches in the rocky terrain that was fast zooming up toward them.

Quickly, she had to make her decision. She selected a spot that appeared to be somewhat smoother, although there wasn't much from which to choose. Her hands gripped the stick tensely. She had practiced forced landings many times. But never had she been confronted with such poor choices for a landing site. In spite of her confidence in her flying ability, she knew this was a situation that would put all her skills to the utmost test.