Ransomed Dreams (36 page)

Eliot almost resembled his old self. His B.C.E. self.

When he crashed again, it would be all the more difficult for her to deal with his shell.

Abruptly, she excused herself and carried the carafe into the house to get more coffee.

* * *

Sheridan returned to the courtyard. Eliot and Luke were heavy into details of foreign policy.

Clearly energized, Eliot described how the United States might add nuances to trade agreements. Luke leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, listening intently, asking a question now and then. Sheridan imagined his brain recording everything Eliot said so that he could pass it on back at the office.

It was a bittersweet scene. Her husband engaged in his work made her want to cry. That very passion was what had been stolen from him.

She poured coffee, rearranged the pastry basket, laid a napkin over the fruit plate, and saw the note. Printed in Luke’s hand, it was an itinerary, the where and when in Mazatlán.

She set the carafe on top of it, sat, and pointedly studied the low cloud ceiling. The thought of four or five straight months of rain was a concern. First came the floods whooshing down the roads. Some years mudslides followed. She had already worked with villagers, placing sandbags where needed, including her own back wall and down at Javier’s shop. Tourism would fall off for a time, another burden on the locals.

At last the men’s conversation slowed.

Luke said, “Eliot, you know once you’re up for it, your services would be welcome in any capacity.”

“Thank you, Luke, but I’ve about hit my limit for serving this morning. Most likely I’ll sleep the rest of the day away. Can’t imagine engaging formally again.”

“I am sorry for the added stress of today and the upcoming ordeal.”

“No need to be. Overall it is a good challenge for me.” Eliot smiled. “The doctors say there cannot possibly be a full recovery in the damaged nerves. Padre Miguel says not to listen to them but be hopeful that God will prove them wrong. I don’t know.”

“The Bible says nothing is impossible for God.”

“Amen.”

Sheridan said, “Can I tell Calissa?”

“About your father?” Luke said. “Tell her she’s a sharp cookie.”

“She already knows that.”

He laughed. “I bet she does. Then tell her that she and Bram correctly connected the dots. You can share what I told you today about Harrison, but please emphasize that the information cannot be leaked. Bram will be disappointed. You can cite ‘national security’ for not discussing the whys.”

“You mean I can parse my words like any good amby’s wife?”

He smiled. “Exactly. I’m sure you can still do it.”

“Of course I can.”

Eliot said, “Luke, I’ve been wondering. Why were you there the day of the shooting?”

Luke blinked, his eyes turning all gray with a slow sweep of lashes. It seemed every muscle went taut, as if he summoned up the robotic guy. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“I think so. I wish not, but I think so.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s get it all out, shall we?”

“Due respect, Sheridan doesn’t have to hear.”

“My wife lost one of her best friends that day. She should be privy to the information.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Eliot’s face was full of compassion. “After you told me about your mother’s background, I realized how cut off I’ve been from Caracas news. So I’ve begun asking Malcolm to send me the old articles, coverage about the shooting and what came after.”

She cringed. “I’ve never looked at those.”

“In hindsight, it’s revealing. Think about that day, about the events that led up to everything.”

Sheridan thought of the group that accompanied her and Reina. The center was already open and running, but this was to be their grand opening, the time for officials to visit, ribbons to be cut, cake to be eaten. They had invited the mayor’s assistant, a flamboyant man who enjoyed the limelight.

She had teased Eliot, inviting him too, never really expecting him to make time for such a small, local event, even for her. His schedule was a juggler’s nightmare. Much to her surprise, he joined her in the limo at the last minute.

Of course he traveled with an entourage. Security was necessary at all times, and hers wouldn’t be enough. Then there was his personal assistant, an indispensable aide. Other staff members, kind people who supported his wife’s work, trailed along.

And Luke trailed along as well, an out-of-place character within that group.

“Neither of you were scheduled to go,” she said. “Why did you go, Luke?”

“I went because we knew something was going down. We had no clue what it was or even what it was related to. Naturally I assumed it was related to the ambassador, so where he went, I went.”

Eliot nodded. “It seems that for a while there you attended other events, ones you wouldn’t normally be involved with.”

“Right. And what about you? Why did you go? You canceled a meeting with the French ambassador that morning, at the last minute.”

Sheridan said, “He went because I’m his wife?”

“Yes, Sher, but there was more,” Eliot said. “You know that I had sources. Like Luke, I always needed information. My staff needed information. People talked to us through various channels.”

She nodded. “I know all that. It came with the territory.”

“One thing we had been hearing was that your women’s center was not being kindly received in certain quarters. Even before you opened it, your work was noticed.” Eliot stumbled over his words. “Your influence on the community was a threat.”

“A threat?”

He reached over and took hold of her hand. “Dearest, you took women off the streets. Women who made their living by prostitution connected to drug trafficking. Women that some people could not afford to lose.”

She stared at him, his words bouncing in her head, unable to meld into a coherent thought. “What are you saying?”

“That I went that day to publicly declare my support for the work you were doing. From what I’d heard, I knew that you and Reina might be intimidated. I wanted ‘them’ to know that the United States would not tolerate such a thing. I never imagined they would . . . Oh, dear God.” He shut his eyes. “Luke. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” she cried. “Eliot!”

Luke touched her arm. He was on the other side of her chair, kneeling, forcing her by the sheer power of his presence to meet his eyes. “The assassin had no idea Eliot was going to be there. His job was to shut down your center. Sher, you and Reina were his targets.”

Chapter 60

Reina and I were the assassin’s targets?

Sheridan rested on the couch in the study, processing what Eliot and Luke had told her a short while ago. Her head pounded, but she noticed Mercedes tiptoe into the room.

“I’m awake, Mercedes.”

“Okay.” The girl tiptoed all the way to the couch. “I have a cold cloth,” she whispered and laid it on Sheridan’s forehead.

“Thank you. Sit with me for a minute?”

“Are you all right, señora?” She sat gingerly on the edge of the cushions, her voice still hushed.

“I’ll be fine. What are the men doing?”

“They’re eating lunch in the kitchen and talking. They talk a lot. They talk too much.” She put a hand to her lips. “I talk too much.”

Sheridan’s head protested when she tried to smile. She pulled Mercedes’s hand down and held it. “I’m fine. They told me some disturbing news. That’s all.”

“Oh, señora, do you have to go away again?”

“No, I don’t.” As a matter of fact, she might never go away again. The world was far darker and slimier than she had imagined.

“What does it mean?”

She had no idea where to begin to answer that question. It meant if not for Eliot figuring things out about the center, Luke would not have gone, and she would be dead and Eliot would be alive and well and whole.

Worse, it meant her father had been right. The last time they spoke, by phone when she was in Houston, he said she had gotten exactly what she deserved. If she had not insisted on doing her own thing in Caracas working with locals, if she had just stayed put and stuck to the wifely script, then Eliot never would have been shot.

It was as if he reached out from the grave and slapped her one more time.

As if in response to it, her head had begun to pound, and she made a beeline indoors. She wanted no more information, only sand in her lungs.

She groaned a strangled noise, part chuckle, part cry. Caring for her dear husband in the charming village of Topala certainly fit the ostrich existence.

Sheridan covered her eyes with the damp cloth, but the haunting images remained, once again vivid and larger than life.

* * *

Later that afternoon Sheridan stood with the men at the front gate. Her head still ached. Her heart still ached. Luke had misspoken. His visit had
Gabriel
written all over it and left her reeling like a top.

Eliot placed both hands on his cane. “Traynor, promise me we will never see you here again.”

Luke smiled. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Seriously, though, I would welcome a familiar face in Mazatlán. Will you be part of the crew?”

“No, sorry. I have another assignment.”

“I understand. Well, have a safe trip.” He shook Luke’s hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador, for everything. Take care.”

Sheridan said, “I’ll walk you to your car.” She kissed Eliot’s cheek. “Be right back.”

“No hurry.” His blue eyes shone. “It’s time for a nap. Maybe the pew is beckoning you?”

Who was this unneedy man? “It might be.”

“I shall see you when you get home.”

She joined Luke in the street. A fine mist fell as they walked slowly down the wet cobblestones. At the bottom of the hill, they turned onto the short, flat walk alongside the square where only a small herd of tourists roamed.

“I’m sorry about today,” Luke said. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. I’ve concluded beyond a shadow of a doubt that hiding out in Topala is the life for me. So far I haven’t gotten into any trouble here. Maybe though I should stop giving English lessons to the kids. They might pick up on some crazy ideas about having a future and a hope. And that will upset somebody’s apple cart.”

“Caracas wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. Eliot and Reina were directly my fault. Telling women they could change their circumstances was mean and cruel. I meddle too much. I always have. I should have just let things be.”

Luke tugged at the bill of his cap and hooked his thumbs in his back pockets. His shoulders moved with a loud exhale. “I don’t think God wants you hidden. He does not want you to stop meddling.”

“Ha. He’s telling me exactly the opposite.”

“So you’ve heard His voice again?”

Again? She frowned at him.

“One night in Houston you told me about your mother, how she heard His voice everywhere. You said you used to hear it too.”

She watched the cobblestones under her feet, vaguely recalling the conversation. During those long hours with Luke, bewildered and uncertain about Eliot’s future, she had poured out her heart at times.

Was she hearing God’s voice again? Was He speaking in the stillness as she sat in a pew? Was that His voice in the birdsong reminding her of His beauty?

“A little,” she said. “In snippets, maybe. Whispers.”

“Good. You know He talks through you. If Jesus is God with skin on, He even looks like you. In Caracas I’d watch you inspire those women. You breathed new life into them. You pulled together that center against all odds. Yes, it got blown away along with your best friend and your husband. That’s the world we live in. But lives were changed for the better, and that can’t be taken away. Then later I’d watch you cry in hospital chapels and come out fighting like you had an army of angels at your side.”

All she could do was stare at him. God spoke through her? Through all that time she couldn’t hear His voice? Through all that nightmare when she didn’t know which way was up or down and she couldn’t even pray?

“Sheridan, don’t give in to the fear again. Just don’t.” He grasped her elbow and halted their walk, turning her to face him. “I didn’t want you in on any of that briefing, but I respected Eliot’s decision. The thing is, you’re a woman and your feelings get in the way. Reina’s death and Eliot’s disability are not your fault.”

She rubbed her forehead, still tender from the headache. “Reina and I were the targets. You said it yourself, that there was proof.”

“That’s true, but listen.” He leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. “Their mission was accomplished. Your center closed. You and Reina are gone. But you, Sheridan Montgomery, are not in any danger. No one is after you. No one. The world needs your meddling, and someday you will leave Topala in order to do it again.”

She heard the assurance in his words and saw the promise in his gray-green eyes. The challenge was to hide them in her heart for the next time it became necessary to engage with the world outside the village.

Because one thing was certain. Luke would not be there beside her to repeat them.

* * *

They reached his car parked in the lot at Davy’s restaurant. Sheridan felt the passage of time as if it were a solid thing slipping from her grasp.

How did one say good-bye to Gabriel, a rescuing angel?

“Gabe,” she said as they stopped next to his rental, “thank you for saving my life.”

Luke hit the automatic unlock and opened the driver’s side door. Resting his arm on top of it, he looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“Whew.” She raised her eyebrows. “I never came out and said that to you, did I?”

“You yammered something along those lines after the doctor gave you a sedative.”

“I’m sorry. I was always so angry at you, blaming you for the whole thing.”

“Now that sentiment you have stated clearly once or twice. Not a problem.” He paused. “Sher—Sheridan—”

“The nickname is okay.”

“About time.” He smiled briefly. “You know I didn’t really save your life, right?”

“What do you mean? Of course you saved my life. What else would you call shoving me out of the way of flying bullets?”