by Laura Iding
Blake wanted to sigh. “All I’m saying is you need to give the kid a chance to tell his side of the story.”
“All right.” She drew a deep breath then crossed her arms over her chest. “What happened, Henri?”
“I saw the kids at the school.” He glanced up at Blake as if seeking support. “I only moved a few feet away from you, so I could see them better. Then I realized one big kid was pushing a smaller kid.”
“And that made you go closer?”
Henri nodded. “I only wanted to help. The bigger kids shouldn’t hurt the littler ones.”
“You wanted to help?” Moriah’s expression betrayed a mixture of hope and disbelief. “You honestly didn’t try to run away? You only wanted to stop the fight?”
He nodded. “At the orphanage, I help take care of the younger kids. They’re not supposed to fight either. But they do.” His exaggerated sigh was so adult-like, Blake had to bite back a smile.
Moriah knelt beside Henri, taking his arms in her hands and looking deep into his eyes. “Tell me the truth, Henri. Are you afraid to go back to the orphanage for some reason? Does anyone hurt you there?”
Henri shook his head emphatically. “No.”
“All right, if you’re sure.” Moriah looked relieved. “Are you ready to go back now?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’m ready to go back.” He ran his hand along the brightly colored ribbons woven into the wrought-iron fences. “But do you think Sister Rita will bring us back on the bus to see the festival? Because, if not, maybe I can stay lost for another day.”
His expression was so earnest, so full of hope, Blake was tempted to help him out. Henri may have been born in Peru, but Blake felt a certain kinship with him just the same. He remembered, too well, how it felt to be the one left out of a party.
Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, to give Henri a chance to experience one.
“No, absolutely not.” Moriah couldn’t believe Blake actually wanted to keep Henri for another day. “Blake, I promised Sister Rita I’d take him back after he was discharged. Then he scared me by wandering away. Why would I reward his irresponsible behavior?”
“Moriah, he didn’t exactly wander away. The kids at the school caught his eye, he moved closer. You heard him, he only tried to help break up the fight.”
Why Blake’s sudden urge to stand up on Henri’s behalf annoyed her so much was a complete mystery. Although she knew she was overreacting, her hands still shook from the surge of adrenaline she’d experienced when she’d discovered Henri gone. She twisted them together to hide them from view. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she repeated stubbornly.
“All right, we’ll take him back and try to convince Sister Rita to bring all the kids to the festival.” Blake had the audacity to exchange a knowing wink with Henri.
“We?” She raised a brow. “I’m the one who arranged the ride, I’ll take him back. And you shouldn’t make rash promises you may not be able to keep.”
“You’re in no condition to drive, Moriah.” His voice was soft, but she couldn’t mistake the edge of determination underlying his tone. “So if you’re set on taking him back, we’ll take him together.”
He was right, although it galled her to admit it. “Fine. We’ll take him back together.”
“Good. Now, just give me a few minutes to change my clothes.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he gestured to the juice cart across the street. “Get something cold for yourself. Henri, why don’t you come with me? I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”
Henri eagerly went along with Blake. With a sigh she realized she didn’t have much choice but to wait as Blake and Henri disappeared into the hotel.
She bought the three of them a soft drink, then found a place to sit by the statue to drink hers.
The festival preparations continued and she stared at the brightly colored skirts and gauzy tops which she would have been tempted to buy if she hadn’t been so upset.
Sister Rita had placed Henri in her care. She’d only taken her eyes off him for a few minutes, to talk to Rasha and Manuel, when he had suddenly disappeared.
Guilt flooded her. If Henri had been younger, or if something bad had happened to him, she’d never have forgiven herself.
Was this heavy responsibility partly why Blake had decided against having a family himself?
Moriah glanced up when Henri and Blake approached. They were engaged in a serious discussion. Blake was very attractive with his golden hair and tanned skin, emphasized by his white T-shirt and casual tan pants. She was surprised when he and Henri stopped to chat with a couple of the local men for a few minutes, before continuing toward her.
“Are you ready to go?” Blake asked.
She wanted to ask what they had been talking about, but decided they’d asked about the festival. Especially since Blake seemed hell-bent on having the kids from the orphanage attend. “Yes. Here’s your juice.” Moriah handed the soft drinks to them, then gestured to the hotel. “I hope our ride is still available.”
Luckily, the car promised by the Peruvian nurse was still waiting for them in front of the hotel. Gratefully, she took the keys from Freda’s patient hands.
“Thank you so much, Freda. I’ll return the car to you very soon.” Moriah gestured at Henri. “Go on, get in.”
“Do you have any clue how to get there?” Blake asked.
She only had a vague idea, but nodded anyway. “Pretty much. I asked the hotel manager last night for directions.” She’d been too preoccupied with kissing Blake to remember the route Bernardo had taken on the way out to pick Henri up.
“All right. I’ll drive, you navigate.” Blake plucked the keys from her fingers and slid into the driver’s seat.
She supposed it didn’t matter which of them sat behind the wheel, but she had wanted to experience the thrill of driving in Peru for herself. Graciously, she took the passenger seat.
The trip didn’t take long at all since there wasn’t much traffic on the road leading to the orphanage. They passed a few buses, though, one seemingly filled with kids. Henri chatted about the bus ride he’d taken on his last trip to town. According to his version of the story, a swerving taxi had almost crashed into them. He hadn’t been afraid, though. To him, the whole experience had been an adventure.
Sister Rita was waiting for them at the front door. She didn’t dress like a conventional nun, but wore the brightly colored skirts and gauzy blouses the local women favored. Moriah held onto Henri’s shoulder, half expecting him to bolt, but he readily climbed the stairs and greeted the sister with a smile.
“Hola, Sister. Where’s Bonita?” he asked.
“Inside, waiting for you.” Sister Rita stepped back, gesturing for the adults to follow. “Come in, please. Have some juice. I would like to thank you for bringing Henri back and for fixing his hand.”
Obviously the woman hadn’t noticed Henri’s black eye, or she would have known better than to thank her. Still, Moriah wasn’t about to enlighten Sister Rita by telling her how close they’d come to not bringing him back. And she couldn’t shake the suspicion he’d been trying to avoid the orphanage. She forced a smile. “You’re welcome.”
The orphanage was a sprawling stucco ranch-style building, surprisingly cool considering the heat of the desert. Sister Rita led them through a narrow hallway to a spacious kitchen seemingly overflowing with fruit and bread. Henri was already inside and Moriah was surprised to find him hugging a young girl, lifting her off her feet.
“Henri,” the girl squealed. “You’re back! You’re back!”
“Sí, Bonita, I’m back.” After setting her back down, he turned to face them. “Bonita, I’d like you to meet Señor Blake and Señorita Moriah. They are the North American doctors who fixed my hand so I can learn a proper craft.” His smile was so bright, Moriah was nearly blinded by his pride. “This is my little sister, Bonita.”
His sister? Stunned, Moriah could only stare at the two of them. She’d had no ide
a Henri had a younger sister. But seeing them together now, the family resemblance was remarkable. They had the same lively, dancing eyes, high cheekbones and identical smiles. No sibling rivalry in evidence here, not when she saw the way Henri kept a protective arm around Bonita’s shoulders.
Her suspicion dissolved in a puddle of shame. Good grief. There was no way Henri had ever intended to run away from the orphanage. She could tell by his actions that he’d never leave his little sister behind.
And she knew why. Because siblings stuck together, no matter what.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BLAKE glanced at Moriah for the tenth time in as many minutes. She wasn’t sleeping, but staring pensively out of the car window.
“Are you all right?” he asked finally.
“I guess.” Her listless tone suggested otherwise. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah.” He wondered what was going on in that busy mind of hers. They’d stayed longer than they’d planned at the orphanage. Moriah’s gaze had been constantly drawn to Bonita, Henri’s younger sister, as if she was enthralled with the girl. He had to admit, she was a cutie.
He’d felt a strange, tightening sensation in the center of his chest when he’d seen Moriah seated on the floor between Henri and Bonita, laughing at the pictures they’d drawn. In that brief moment he’d seen Moriah’s future. With her dark hair and native American heritage, the two children could have easily been hers.
Adoption was an interesting concept. Hadn’t he been pretty much adopted by his aunt and uncle? What would have happened if he’d been sent to live with an aunt and uncle and their six kids? If he’d grown up with a household of cousins, would he have always felt like an outsider, as he had with Moriah’s rambunctious family? Or would he have grown into the concept of being one of the gang?
Not that he could change how he had been raised. It was too late for him to adjust now.
Wasn’t it?
He’d ended up spending some time with the kids alone, while Moriah had gone off to have a private conversation with Sister Rita. He’d had a strange sense of pride when Henri had showed him how he was progressing in his studies. And Bonita’s artwork had been truly amazing.
He’d never considered it before now, but kids were really the essence of hope. What would his future hold without them?
Was this hope exactly what Moriah saw when she thought about having a family?
When it had been time to leave the orphanage, Moriah had been reluctant to let Henri go. Moriah’s gaze was pensive, yet she didn’t talk about what she and Sister Rita had discussed.
All this time, he’d thought Moriah’s family were close because of some inherent tendency, a bond arising from the genes that had been passed down to her and her brothers and sisters from her parents.
But he got the distinct impression that Moriah felt just as close to Henri and Bonita, even without the bond of blood.
“Do you think Sister Rita will bring the children to the festival tomorrow?” Moriah asked.
“I think so.” Blake had liked the director of the orphanage immediately. She didn’t take any grief from the children, but ruled with grace and compassion. “I have a feeling it was the plan all along.”
“Good. I’d love to see Bonita and Henri again.” Her voice was full of longing.
Actually, he was surprised to admit he felt the same way. He didn’t quite understand why. He fell silent, aware their own time together in Peru was almost at an end. Just a couple of days and they’d be on a plane back to the United States.
Last year they’d spent their last evening in Peru together, dining and laughing with silliness, until George had found them to give them the message about Ryan’s death.
But then he’d hurt Moriah, just like Ryan had. And he could even admit he’d hurt himself by being with the wrong woman. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel of their borrowed car. He wished more than anything she’d been willing to take him the way he was, because he wanted nothing more than to whisk Moriah away to the privacy of his hotel room, where he could make sweet love to her all night long.
“You just passed the hotel,” Moriah observed.
“Damn.” He quickly circled the statue and headed back to the hotel. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” She hesitated. “I told Freda we’d leave the car here. She plans to pick it up after her shift at the hospital later tonight.”
“Sounds good. I’ll leave the key with the hotel manager.”
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for coming along with me. We’re not operating tomorrow, so maybe I’ll see you at the festival.”
Tomorrow seemed like a lifetime away, but he knew she was right. Besides, he had to head back to the hospital to see if George needed any help. He’d been gone long enough as it was.
“I’d like that,” he agreed.
“Great. See you later, then.” She ducked out of the car, and headed inside. He watched her as she greeted the hotel manager as warmly as if he were a long-lost friend, and a stunning realization hit him broadside.
He loved her. Had, in fact, loved her for years. And all the traits he loved about her were the same ones that would make her a perfect wife and mother.
He couldn’t bear the thought of Moriah becoming the heart and soul of some other man’s family.
Moriah couldn’t believe how the city had been transformed. Crowds of people laughed and shouted as they swarmed in the street. The brightly painted stucco houses were all decorated, either with flags or the bright ribbons woven through the wrought-iron fences. A spicy scent of fish intermingled with the tart papaya juice and the yeasty Peruvian beer added to the party atmosphere. The Trujillo Festival was in full swing.
Moriah eyed the beer, wondering if she’d dare to try some herself later on.
Children played games while doting parents watched. She’d gotten to the festival later than she’d planned and searched the crowds for Henri and Bonita.
She was surprised to find them with Blake. The three of them were in the middle of the children’s games, throwing balls in an effort to knock over three stacked bottles. There weren’t prizes to win, but with Blake’s encouragement the kids played with enthusiasm anyway. She shook her head in amazement—some games knew no boundaries.
When Henri saw her, he took Bonita’s hand and crossed over to meet her. “Hola, Moriah. We’ve been looking for you.”
“And now you found me.” She gave them each a quick hug. Then her eyes met Blake’s, an unspoken question in her eyes. “I had to work late, or I would have been here sooner. Seems like you had fun with Blake, though.”
“Can we stay late enough to see the band play?” Henri wanted to know.
“Probably not. Didn’t Sister Rita say her bus was leaving soon?” Blake reminded them.
Moriah nodded. “Yes, and you can see the band hasn’t quite started yet. Maybe you’ll have time to hear one song, but that might be all.” In fact, the stage was already set up, the musicians gathering and tuning their instruments. Apparently with the band came dancing.
“Aw, we wanted to watch the dancing.”
Moriah led them over to the closest street vendor. “Are you guys hungry? Thirsty?”
“Thirsty,” Bonita declared firmly.
Before she could do anything, Blake fetched juice for all of them. The four of them had just sat down to enjoy the treat when she noticed Sister Rita making her way toward her.
“I told the children to return to the bus at seven o’clock.” Her brows were pulled together in a mock frown. “But I can see they were too distracted to listen.”
“My fault, I guess,” Moriah apologized, glancing at her watch in dismay. “I didn’t get here until late, I was hoping to spend more time with them.”
“Henri, Bonita, you must return to the bus, all right?” Sister Rita directed.
“Goodbye, Blake. Goodbye, Moriah. Thanks for the juice.” Henri and Bonita gave her and Blake quick hugs.
Mori
ah could hardly stand to let them go. “You’re more than welcome. Now, don’t forget to write to me, all right? I’ll be looking forward to your letters.”
Both kids nodded earnestly. “We will.”
“Go on now, run along.” Sister Rita shooed them off. “I need to talk to Moriah for a moment.”
“Well, if you want to talk, I’ll just go along with the kids.” Blake graciously left the two women alone.
What had possessed Blake to spend the day with the kids? A change of heart? She was afraid to hope. Moriah waved until the kids were out of sight.
“I’ve been thinking about your question, Moriah,” Sister Rita said slowly. “I told you Americans were not normally allowed to adopt Peruvian children very easily.”
Moriah nodded. “Yes, I remember.” She’d been sorely disappointed with the news. Naively, she’d assumed orphan children from Peru would be easy for anyone to adopt.
“While it’s not easy, there are ways to appeal to our government. I would be willing to help, if you like.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes.” Sister Rita nodded and handed her a packet of papers. “Here is some information about our adoption process, light reading for your trip home. I’m hoping once you review all the requirements, you won’t be put off by the amount of time, energy and effort it will take for you to adopt Henri and Bonita.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Moriah grinned and tucked the packet of papers under her arm. “Thank you, Sister. I’ll be in touch, I promise.”
“I believe you will.” Sister Rita took Moriah’s hand in hers and clasped it warmly. “Yes, I do believe you will. Things will work out, if God means for them to be.”
Moriah wished she could truly believe the sentiment, especially with regard to Blake, but she held her tongue and watched the nun hustle away, herding the rest of the orphanage children toward the bus. Blake seemed to have disappeared, so she turned away.
She headed toward the hotel, intent on putting the adoption paperwork in a safe place. Moriah figured she should be thrilled with the news that adopting Henri and Bonita was a possibility. The decision felt right. She could picture them with her family so easily.