Sounds of Silence
Authors: Elizabeth White
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #Religious
“Isabel, I want you to meet somebody.”
Eli was standing in the doorway looking at her.
“Okay.” She smiled and tried to see around him. Maybe he had a new partner, although why he’d have Isabel come all the way over here for that—
“Come here, Susie-Q,” Eli said, reaching behind his back. He tugged a small child into view by the hand—a little girl so beautiful it made Isabel’s eyes sting. She looked at Eli for an explanation.
“She’s deaf and doesn’t speak, Isabel, but she showed up at the orphanage yesterday with nothing but the clothes on her back and one shoe. And this.”
He lifted his other hand to show her a sealed plastic bag containing a closed switchblade knife.
THE TEXAS GATEKEEPERS:
Protecting the borders…and the women they love.
ELIZABETH WHITE
As a teenager growing up in north Mississippi, Elizabeth White often relieved the tedium of history and science classes by losing herself in a romance novel hidden behind a textbook. Inevitably she began to write stories of her own. Torn between her two loves—music and literature—she chose to pursue a career as a piano and voice teacher.
Along the way Beth married her own Prince Charming and followed him through seminary into church ministry. During a season of staying home with two babies, she rediscovered her love for writing romantic stories with a Christian worldview. A previously unmined streak of God-given determination carried her through the process of learning how to turn funny mushy stuff into a publishable novel. Her first novella saw print in the banner year 2000.
Beth now lives on the Alabama Gulf Coast with her husband, two high-maintenance teenagers and a Boston terrier named Angel. She plays flute and pennywhistle in a church orchestra, teaches second-grade Sunday school, paints portraits in chalk pastel and—of course—reads everything she can get her hands on. Creating stories of faith, where two people fall in love with each other and Jesus, is her passion and source of personal spiritual growth. She is always thrilled to hear from readers c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, or visit her on the Web at www.elizabethwhite.net.
Sounds of Silence
ELIZABETH WHITE
The Lord protects the foreigners among us. He cares for the orphans and widows, but He frustrates the plans of the wicked.
—
Psalms
146:9
This book is dedicated to the missions ministry
of First Baptist North Mobile. Keep on
serving and sharing the Good News!
I’m grateful for my critique partners—
Scott, Tammy and Sheri—and my editor,
Diane Dietz. You make me a better writer.
Thanks as well to several people who lent their expertise as I researched details for this book. Glenda Perkins, teacher of hearing impaired students in Mobile County Public Schools, read the manuscript and gave great suggestions. ATF agent and former Border Patrol Agent Michael Knoll answered about a million questions with great patience and clarity. Cena Goff helped with nursing issues, and Ken Foster—firefighter extraordinaire—answered questions regarding, well, fires. Susan Howell answered a couple of horse questions. All mistakes are mine.
My friend and fellow author Jane Myers Perrine
helped once more with Spanish translation.
Thanks for your time,
señora.
I would never have been able to give this book
the richness of detail it deserved, without observing
and interviewing several of God’s choice servants
who minister on the Texas/Mexico border.
Rosie, Aurora, Pastor Pablo, Dennis, Terry and
others involved with Texas River Ministries—
I pray for you regularly. Thank you for letting
me share Christ in your corner of the world.
Dear Reader,
Last year I eagerly accepted a spot in the van during my church’s annual trek to south Texas. I knew I was going to set my next book there and could simultaneously research and “do ministry.” I didn’t know it was going to change my heart.
The poverty, heat and dust were no surprise. But I also found warm hearts, bright smiles and the universal language of kinship in Christ. I discovered how richly blessed we are in the U.S. and that sharing my faith brings unspeakable joy.
Visiting Mexico prepared me to write
Sounds of Silence
, as I tried to put myself inside the skin of people not like me. How would it feel to be a traumatized, hearing-impaired orphan? What would it be like to violently lose your husband and then fall in love with a man in his same profession? Going to Mexico helped me to see that all of us experience seasons of deep need and loneliness—and that those in Christ have something to share, whether you’re a Spanish-speaking child or a Texas construction worker or an Alabama housewife.
Much of this story is filled with the starkness of the Mexican hills and border slums. But often in the greatest deprivation, God reveals Himself to be our true and faithful refuge. I encourage you to go to His Word, the Bible, to find strength and encouragement. If you have questions or if you have something to share with me, I would love to hear from you via my Web site, www.elizabethwhite.net. Or you may write to me at Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the story! Stay tuned for
On Wings of Deliverance
, the third book in the Texas Gatekeepers series.
Blessings,
Contents
Prologue
Ciudad Acuña, Mexico
M
ercedes woke up when something nudged her in the ribs. By the reddish light coming through the beaded curtain, she could see her sister Lupe’s slender feet in scarlet high-heeled sandals. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
Lupe had on a black leather miniskirt and a white blouse that glowed like neon in the dark storeroom. She’d let Mercedes try on the skirt yesterday, but it had reached to her knees. Laughing and showing all her beautiful white teeth, Lupe had clipped the waistband with a clothespin so that Mercedes could walk in it without tripping.
One day she would be beautiful, too, and men would buy her presents like the earrings that dangled against Lupe’s neck.
But not Pablo. She’d stay away from that bad
hombre.
He was handsome, with slick black hair and nice teeth, but he was mean. He gave Lupe a white powder that made her silly. Pablo had also given Lupe the black scab that cut across one of her fine eyebrows, and the bruises on her back.
Mercedes gasped when Lupe reached down and yanked her to her feet. She could tell Lupe was upset, moving her red lips in patterns too sloppy to follow, without trying to sign with her hands. Repeating herself, she shook Mercedes so hard her head snapped back.
No!
Mercedes signed, jerking out of Lupe’s hands.
That hurts.
Lupe’s kittenish face crumpled, tears streaking her makeup and leaving black mascara tracks under her eyes.
Get out,
Lupe signed.
Danger.
Mercedes shook her head.
I don’t want to—
Lupe suddenly shoved Mercedes to the floor and glanced at the doorway. The beads swung as something bumped against them. Lupe’s face wrinkled in panic, and her lips moved—“Run!”
She turned to peer through the curtain.
Mercedes was pretty scared, but curiosity won over fear. Better to keep an eye on things than to run away like one of the chickens behind Hector’s bar. She crept toward Lupe on her hands and knees, feeling odd, thumping vibrations through the tile floor.
Kneeling beside her sister, Mercedes blinked against the sudden light of the neon signs above the bar. As her eyes adjusted, she scanned the scene. In the center of the room, surrounded by empty tables—it must be close to daybreak if there were no customers—two men were fighting. One was Pablo, dressed in tight black trousers and a black silk shirt. A sneer curved one side of his handsome mouth. He had both fists knotted at the throat of a tall, skinny
Americano
man whom Mercedes had seen a couple of times. She didn’t know the white man’s name, but figured he was rich. He gave Lupe money for soft drinks and cigarettes, and he’d bought her the black leather skirt.
Mercedes sucked in a gasp. The
gringo
was about to stick a pearl-handled switchblade into Pablo’s gut.
Then the fight quickly ended when Pablo reached down and yanked the knife from the other man. Twisting it, he thrust upward. The
gringo
sagged as Pablo stepped away.
Lupe grabbed Mercedes, who watched in horror as Pablo calmly wiped the knife clean and folded it shut. But as he stooped to lift the victim’s body under the arms, the knife slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor. Cursing, Pablo dragged the body outside, leaving the door open.
Shuddering as if she might fall apart, Lupe pulled Mercedes to her feet.
Run! Danger!
Lupe signed.
Through the hole. I’ll be right there
. She tried to shove Mercedes toward the back wall of the tiny room.
Mercedes started to obey, but when Lupe darted into the empty barroom, she followed. She watched through the beads as her sister snatched up the knife with the tail of her blouse. Nearly mowing Mercedes down on the way back, Lupe grabbed her by the arm and shook her roughly.
Go through the hole!
she signed.
Hurry!
Frightened by the knife still clutched in Lupe’s other hand, Mercedes started to cry.
Come with me
, she signed.
I’m scared
.
Lupe calmed a bit, and Mercedes could see she was thinking hard. Getting down on her hands and knees, Lupe reached under the cot and found a plastic grocery sack. She dropped the knife in it and knotted the handles.
I’m right behind you
, she signed.
Go!
Mercedes nodded. Maybe it would be all right.
Taking a deep breath, she scrambled under the bench against the wall, which was made out of a splintery two-by-four and a couple of cinder blocks. Behind the bench was a loose flap in the tar paper wall, which she used in the middle of the night when she needed to visit the outhouse.
She was about to go through the flap, when she felt heavy thumping footsteps against the floor.
Pablo
. He was coming. Peeking from under the bench, she saw his expensive shoes and Lupe’s red sandals. They were grappling hard, almost like a crazy kind of dance.
Mercedes’s heart jumped when the bag holding the knife fell to the floor right in front of her face. Without stopping to think she grabbed it and pulled it toward her. Obviously Lupe didn’t want Pablo to have it.
She should leave now. But what about Lupe? Was there anything she could do to help her sister? Flattening herself against the floor, she looked up and saw Lupe’s trembling knees, the flashing jewels in her ears. And Pablo’s evil face, contorted in rage. He had Lupe by the neck, choking her.
A wrenching silent scream tore her throat muscles.
Pablo flung Lupe to the floor just as Mercedes dove for the opening in the wall. She wriggled through head first, and had made it out to the waist before she felt Pablo toss the board aside.
She crawled madly, gashed her knee on a loose nail, and the pain stopped her.
Mistake. Pablo grabbed her heel.
She jerked her foot out of his fingers, pulling off her shoe, and shoved her hands hard against the wall. She burst into the open night air, tumbled down the rocky hill, and sat up when she reached the bottom.
Bruised and panting, she scrambled to her feet clutching the bag with the knife in it. Pablo would come after her, but it was a moonless night, and she knew the alleys of the colony better than he did. She had hidden herself many times when necessary.
She knew a place to hide that he’d never think of.
Mercedes took off running toward the hill where the Americans had built that big tin building last summer. She dodged from building to building, zigzagging so that Pablo couldn’t follow her.
Looking up, she saw the cross on the church at the top of the hill. Funny that it glowed so brightly, as if it were lit from within. No other light anywhere. The shape of the cross eased her fear.
She’d be safe when she got there.
