Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  As the dinner hour approached, Lou and Mason found a small restaurant near a marina serving up local delicacies and fresh seafood. As they nibbled on appetizers of conch fritters and artichokes stuffed with crabmeat, Lou mentioned her observations to Mason and suggested maybe things on Sonora weren’t as bad as the outside world seemed to think.

  “Don’t you believe it,” he cautioned her. “Remember that we’re here at the behest of General Papitou, and the government officials are only going to show us what they want us to see. I mean, look at the hotel Michaud set us up in.”

  “Oh, Mason, I think the reason we’re staying in the Hotel San Sebastian is because the government wants to show us it can be a very good host, not to bribe us into writing a favorable story.”

  Mason made a rude sound of disbelief and dipped another fritter into the hot-mustard sauce. “Yeah, right. Just you wait. Starting tomorrow, they’ll chauffeur us around to their immaculate, up-to-date hospitals, their hi-tech schools, the newly renovated power plant, the modern water-treatment facility, the clean, safe prisons…” His voice trailed off as he popped the fritter into his mouth and enjoyed it like a man who’d gone months without food.

  “And why is that so terrible?” Lou asked.

  “Because they’ll be showing us the facilities that provide services for the wealthy citizens and the military. Of course, they’ll neglect to point that out to us. And what they’ll also neglect to mention is that the poverty-stricken areas that make up ninety percent of Sonora’s population are completely without water, hospitals, schools and electricity. And what they won’t show us are the special rooms below the fine prisons that house instruments of unspeakable torture that still see plenty of use today.”

  Lou recoiled at the possibility that beyond the beauty of Madriga and the palm-lined beaches, stark poverty and persecution might be the way of life here. Mason must have noticed her reaction, because he stopped wolfing down his food and reached across the table to curl his fingers lightly over hers.

  “I told you it wouldn’t be what you think,” he said gently. “I tried to warn you about what you might see here. It isn’t pretty sometimes—the truth. But there you have it just the same.”

  Lou gazed back at him, trying to keep her voice steady as she replied. “I’m not reacting to the ugliness of the truth, Mason. I just can’t help thinking Sonora sounds a lot like my hometown.”

  His eyes hardened at her assertion, and she knew he was going to object. But she wanted him to realize once and for all that she wasn’t the soft, fragile flower he insisted on thinking she was.

  “When you were there,” she said, “all you saw was the inside of a freight car at the rail yard where they were keeping you. I don’t think you realized just how isolated you actually were, though. Hack’s Crossing is way up in the mountains. Way up. Up where it’s so beautiful and peaceful and quiet, you think God must have made it that way because it was so close to Him. But it’s far, far away from civilization. There are no amenities at all. You can’t farm or tame the land. The only jobs are the ones in the coal mines that will wind up killing you anyway, and those are getting scarcer all the time. The people there are poor and hard and hungry, and in the winter, it gets so cold and lonely, you sometimes wonder why you don’t just crawl up inside yourself and die.”

  Feeling his hand clench her fingers convulsively, Lou paused, surprised to realize her voice had grown in volume and vehemence as she talked about her past. “Look,” she finally concluded, her voice softening, “all I’m saying is that the most beautiful places on earth can also be the ugliest sometimes. And there’s different kinds of poverty. Some people do without money and food, some do without family and friends, some do without any love at all. We just have to do the best we can with what we’ve got, and we have to see through the bad things to find what’s good. Because there’s always something good at the bottom of it, Mason. I don’t care what anybody says. Maybe Sonora has its secrets and ugly truths, but there are a lot of things about this island worth praising. And when I file my stories for the paper, they’re going to include everything I do and see down here.”

  Mason looked at her for a long time without speaking. Then his lips curled into the slightest hint of a smile, and his fingers began to massage hers gently. Very quietly he asked, “Tired of yellow journalism, are you?”

  Lou grinned back. “The media always promote the worst possible scenario, you know. It’s common knowledge.”

  He chuckled softly. “Is that a fact?”

  Nodding slowly, Lou interwove her fingers with his and assured him, “Things are never as bad as they seem.

  This time Mason took her hand completely in his and squeezed it hard. “You think so, Lou Lofton? Well, we’ll just see about that.”

  Chapter Four

  The following morning, Lou awoke feeling more rested than she had in years. She knew it was very early, because when she sat up in bed and gazed past the open French doors, she could see that the sky was a soft lavender streaked with pink and orange in preparation for the sun’s appearance. Stretching her arms above her head, she sighed contentedly and inhaled the fresh, salty scent of the sea, wishing she could stay on Sonora forever.

  After dinner last night, she and Mason returned to their rooms, she to organize the notes she’d taken that day, and he to outline their agenda for the upcoming week. Lou hadn’t bothered to tell him she’d already decided what she was going to do and where she would be going to research her story because she knew she’d only be met with Mason’s refusal to pursue the investigation her way. He was adamant the new regime on Sonora was no better than the old one and that General Marco Papitou would only trade one kind of tyranny for another. Lou, however, still wasn’t convinced. She planned to interview a number of government officials, as well as average members of the community. She’d even arranged for herself and Mason to go inland to visit some of the villages there so she could gain a fuller view of the different types of people who called the island home. The only task facing her now was convincing him to let her do her job unobstructed.

  A muffled sound from the next room caused her to look in that direction. She cocked her head curiously, waiting to see if she would hear it again, and a moment later she did. Only this time it was louder—someone moaning, as if in pain. She scrambled out of bed and threw a short ivory kimono on over the matching teddy, belting the sash hastily as she reached for the connecting door. When she entered Mason’s room, it was to find him curled up on his bed, clutching his stomach and groaning as if he stood at death’s door.

  She hurried to his bed and placed her palm over his forehead. He was burning up with fever. “Mason?” she asked anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

  His reply was another groan, followed by, “I think it was the conch fritters. I’ve been sick all night.”

  “I’m calling the hotel doctor,” Lou said, reaching for the phone.

  “No, don’t,” he told her, rolling over to circle her wrist. “Just get me some more water and another antacid from my kit in the bathroom.”

  “Mason—”

  “Lou, please.”

  She frowned at him, but even in his debilitation, Mason would brook no argument. Lou did as he instructed, then sat on the edge of the bed, watching him anxiously as he swallowed the medication.

  “There,” he muttered with a grimace when he’d drained the glass of water. “I’ll be good as new in no time.”

  However, he punctuated his assurance by grimacing and clutching his abdomen again in pain.

  Lou said nothing, but unable to help herself, she lifted her hand once more and placed her palm gently on his forehead before sliding it down to cup his cheek.

  “You’re still too warm,” she said. “You have a fever. I don’t think you should get out of bed for a while.”

  As the waves of nausea he’d suffered all night began to subside a little, Mason took a moment to study Lou and felt his temperature rise even more. Good God, when had she become
so beautiful? he wondered wildly. In the morning light, her skin seemed like the most perfect porcelain, making her brown eyes seem darker and bigger and full of emotion. Her lips were parted slightly, full and inviting, just begging to be kissed. The sash of her robe had come undone, and the garment hung open over sleepwear unlike anything he’d ever known her to own—a pale, lacy creation of some soft, clingy fabric that draped her body only enough to cover what a man shouldn’t be allowed to see anyway. Mason’s heart slammed against his chest at the feel of her warm hand on his cheek, and his body leapt to respond. For one weird moment, all he wanted to do was lean forward to touch her in some very intimate ways, then press her back on the mattress and—

  Oh, man, what was he thinking? He must be delirious with fever if he was considering making love to Lou. She was just a kid, for God’s sake. And even if he believed he actually wanted her—which, of course, was ridiculous and just a result of his delirium—he would be too weak to perform. But even as the thought occurred, his body reacted again, letting him know that yep, it was ready, willing and more than able to enjoy a tumble with Lou.

  Tamping down the thought with every scrap of energy he had left, he cupped his hand over the one she still laid against his cheek and moved it gently to her lap. Then, when he realized he had allowed his hand to linger too long on the warm, naked flesh of her thigh, he snatched it away again.

  “Where did you get that thing?” he demanded.

  Lou looked puzzled. “Where did I get what thing?”

  He gestured toward her outfit. “That…that thing you have on. Where did it come from? What happened to those pajamas you used to have? The flannel ones with the cowboys and horses on them? I kind of liked those.”

  Lou shook her head. “Those were hand-me-downs from my brother Delbert. I had them when I first came to Washington. Good grief, Mason, I threw them in the garbage as soon as I started college. I couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. I bought this…”

  She hesitated. She had, in fact, bought the teddy and robe just before taking this trip to Sonora, because, she had to admit, she had kind of hoped Mason might see her in it. She just hadn’t planned on the situation being quite like this.

  “I bought this a while ago,” she said evasively, “because I like the color, and…and it was on sale.”

  Mason eyed her warily, wondering if she’d bought it to impress some guy. Michaud maybe? Mason was going to have to keep his eye on that guy. He didn’t trust him for a minute. Especially where Lou was concerned. A wave of nausea washed over him again, and as much as he wished it was the thought of Albert Michaud that brought it on, he knew it was more likely the conch fritters of the night before. Great, he thought. This was just great.

  “Mason, are you all right?”

  He heard Lou’s quietly uttered question and turned to look at her again, wishing she would close her robe and get the hell out of his room so he could be left alone to have a little chat with his mutinous libido. Instead, he only muttered, “I’m fine. I just need to put something in my stomach that won’t turn on me. If you could call room service and have them send up some—”

  “Dry toast and tea,” Lou told him.

  “What?”

  “Dry toast and tea. It will help your stomach. My grandmother Hattie Lofton always said—”

  “Can the mountain remedies, Lou. What I need is eggs, bacon, some hash browns, and a pot of black coffee.”

  Lou drew her lips together in a thin line, but she picked up the phone and ordered what he’d requested. She also asked the kitchen to send up some dry toast and tea, ignoring Mason when he shook his head and called her crazy. However, after room service arrived, and Lou presented Mason’s bacon and eggs with an exaggerated flourish, he took one whiff of the heavy food and turned green. When he retreated to the bathroom, Lou ate the breakfast he’d ordered, and when he returned, he grudgingly consumed his toast and tea.

  “It will make you feel better,” she assured him without a trace of censure.

  Mason mumbled something she was certain she didn’t want repeated, and she rose to leave,

  “Where are you going?” he asked when he realized her intention.

  She turned around, but kept walking backward toward the door. “To take a shower and get dressed. I have a big day ahead of me. Albert has arranged for me to interview the acting mayor and first lady of Madriga, some local businessmen, and some higher ranking officials of the military. He’s going to try to get me in to see Marco Papitou before the week is over, if the general has time.”

  She had her hand on the doorknob when she made that final announcement. If she could just get it open and hurry through before her words sunk in to Mason’s feverish brain, she would be home free.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, rising from the table, but gripping it with both hands. “Hold on there, buckaroo. You’re not going anywhere without me there to keep an eye on you.”

  “Mason, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Lou insisted. “You’re way too sick to be up and working. And Albert went to a lot of trouble to make these appointments. I’m not about to miss them.”

  “You’re not going alone,” he told her.

  “I am so,” she persisted.

  “You are not.”

  “I am so.”

  “Are not.”

  “Am so.”

  “Lou—”

  “Mason—”

  Why did it always degenerate into such a childish argument when they disagreed? Lou wondered. Probably because Mason kept treating her as though she were twelve years old, and probably because he refused to grow up himself. Without a word, she turned the knob of the connecting door and began to duck back into her room. Mason took a step toward her, and for a moment, she was certain he would try to lock her in her room like some medieval lord. But after taking two more steps, he paused, settling his hand gingerly on his stomach. Then he turned to hurry off to the bathroom again.

  Her heart went out to him. Truly it did. But Mason was a grown man who could take care of himself. And she was a grown woman who had a job to do. She rushed through the door and locked it behind her, then quickly headed for the shower. She dressed hastily in a belted, chocolate brown sleeveless sheath—something she hoped would be cool as well as professional looking—and thought about how being left on her own today might give her the perfect opportunity to prove to Mason once and for all she was an adult woman and a very good reporter. With any luck, by the time they left Sonora, he’d be totally convinced of both.

  ****

  The interviews went even better than Lou had hoped, and by late afternoon she’d nearly filled a notebook with her scrawling handwriting. Now she was the sole occupant of the sunny, formal restaurant off the lobby of the Hotel San Sebastian, sitting at a corner table and sipping a cool lime soda as she reevaluated everything she had seen and heard.

  She was more than optimistic that Marco Papitou was the best thing that had ever happened to Sonora. Everyone with whom she had spoken had nothing but respect for the man, and she herself had seen the clear results of his short time in office. Schools and hospitals were being renovated all over Madriga, and homes that had been without plumbing and electricity for generations were now being supplied with amenities. The citizens were happy and insisted what few rebels remained in the hills outside of town were nothing more than thugs who didn’t want to give up the benefits they’d received from the previous government—like weapons, bribes, and special treatment.

  Lou jotted down more notes, her mind working frantically to recall every moment of the day. It had been such an exhilarating experience to be left to her own devices in a completely different culture, exploring all the facets of life she wanted to investigate without being challenged every step of the way. She realized with a start thatshe’d never had such an adventure before. Mason always hovered around her like a mother hen whenever she tried to spread her wings, looking over her shoulder to prevent any mishaps before they could be made.<
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  Freedom, that’s what she was feeling. She’d never known what it was like before. In Hack’s Crossing, she’d grown up with the responsibilities that went with cooking and cleaning for her father, uncle and brothers, household chores that had used up ninety-nine percent of her day. On the few occasions when she had found a spare moment or two, she’d never considered doing something for herself and had instead used the time to get ahead with the laundry or sewing. Moving to Washington had only given her a different set of responsibilities—college, then working at the paper on assignments she’d had no desire to pursue. And instead of cowering in the shadow of her family because she was afraid she wouldn’t please them, she followed in the shadow of Mason Thorne—always afraid she didn’t please him, either.

  It was as if a little light went on in the very back of her brain at the realization, and suddenly everything made sense. The reason Mason continued to treat her like a child was because she continued to act like one. She had always depended on someone else for her survival. Always. First it had been her father, then her uncle, then after leaving Hack’s Crossing, Mason Thorne. Here she was, a twenty-five-year-old woman with a college degree and a home of her own, and she’d never had the opportunity to grow up.

  No, that wasn’t true, she amended. She’d had the opportunity as soon as she came to Washington. She just hadn’t taken it, had instead fallen right back into the trap she’d been caught in in West Virginia. It had been easier and less scary to rely on Mason, and knowing he was always there had kept her from feeling alone. Obviously, he’d picked up on her need for guidance, and when his sister Emily married, he’d started watching out for Lou instead. Yes, Lou’s affection for Mason had long outgrown the puppy-love infatuation it had once been, but his feelings for her were unchanged from the big brother fondness he’d always felt. Why should that surprise her when she kept turning to him whenever things went awry in her life?