A Greater Love

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  Sara nodded. “I don’t remember her. Miguel says she died.”

  “And then?”

  “Then Octávia brought us to Campo Grande.”

  Daniel looked at Cristina. “Manuel had an older sister named Octávia.”

  Slowly, the whole story came out. Even if his heart hadn’t already been softened, Sara’s description of their life would have caved Daniel’s former resolve to be indifferent. He became infused with the desire to help, to give something of himself, something that would make a difference. Even if in the end Miguel rejected him, as he must when he found out the truth about his father’s death.

  “You rest for a little while, dear,” Daniel told Sara. “We’re going to leave you for a minute to make some plans to help your brother, but Cristina will be right back.”

  Once they were in the entryway, Daniel met Cristina’s eyes. “Miguel gave her the card too. I don’t think he was planning on coming back.”

  She glanced in the direction of the guest room. “What do you mean? He wouldn’t desert Sara. You said so yourself.”

  “What if he didn’t have any choice?”

  “Then we have to find him!” She started for the door, but he caught her arm.

  “You stay here with Sara. I’ll search for him, starting with that church Sara told us about.” He crossed to the closet and retrieved his heavy coat. “I’ll be back.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her. She responded with equal intensity, but he wondered if anything would be all right between them again if something happened to Miguel. Why had he been so blind?

  Daniel’s search for Miguel was fruitless. He found the church where the children had spent the night, but there was no sign of the boy. He walked the streets, talked to everyone he could—all to no avail. Dejectedly, he returned with heavy steps to the apartment. In the guest room, Cristina lay in the dark next to the sleeping Sara; she looked hopefully at him, but as he shook his head, her hope faded.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’ll search again tomorrow.” He stroked Sara’s hair briefly, then stumbled to his own bed and fell onto it, too exhausted to undress.

  Where would the boy go? He had to think like Miguel.

  Daniel slid out of bed and onto his knees. He hadn’t knelt since he’d said his prayers with his mother as a young child. He was still on his knees when sleep overcame him. In the foggy moments before oblivion, Daniel remembered the dog and the answer came. He jumped to his feet, all thoughts of rest vanishing.

  “Here, Lucky. Come here!” he called in the entryway. The puppy came from the guest room and padded over to him, nails clicking softly on the wooden floor. Daniel clipped his leash onto his collar.

  “Daniel, what are you doing? It’s in the middle of the night.”

  “Going to find Miguel.”

  “But—”

  “Time is running out. I have to find him. Now.”

  “How?”

  “You said yourself that Miguel would never leave Sara. And you’re right. That means he’s nearby. He’d want to know where she was going and if she was all right. He probably watched you find her and take her away in the car.”

  “Then he must have come here.” Cristina’s brown eyes filled with renewed hope. “He wouldn’t know where else to wait for us.”

  “Maybe Lucky can help me find him.” Daniel jogged to the door with the puppy at his heels.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In a stairwell window across the street from Cristina’s travel agency, Miguel anxiously watched Sara. She lay in the doorway, too sick to move. Please make her okay, he prayed.

  Finally, Cristina appeared. She scooped Sara into her arms, glancing around frantically. Miguel stood back from the glass so she wouldn’t see him, and when he looked again, she was lifting Sara into her car. Miguel didn’t realize he was crying until the tears splashed onto his hands as they clutched at the windowsill. His heart wrenched in his chest.

  “They’re gonna make her better,” he mumbled to himself.

  He had to make sure, so he walked the few blocks to where Daniel’s apartment was located and managed to find an open apartment building nearby. There he waited, drifting in and out of fitful sleep. He was no longer cold; his fever warmed him.

  “Miguel is already too old for anyone to want to adopt—I know I certainly wouldn’t want the problems he’d cause.” The words Daniel had said that first night still tortured him, yet Miguel trusted Cristina enough to give her Sara. In his prayer, the Baby Jesus had told him to take his sister to Cristina, and Miguel had done so, knowing it was the only way to save her life.

  He missed her already.

  At long last, Cristina arrived with Sara, wrapped in a blanket, and relief washed over his frail body. Sara was all right. Perhaps Cristina had taken her to see a doctor to help her get well. He’d suspected that she might and had tried to wait patiently. Now he had to make sure Cristina kept her forever, that Sara would have the life she deserved.

  He thought Cristina might adopt Sara, if he was out of the way. Maybe she could even convince Daniel to love her as his own daughter. Of course, the couple likely wouldn’t stay together long from what Miguel had seen of their relationship. But he didn’t know for sure.

  Sending Lucky was a plus; Daniel liked the pup. Maybe that would sway things in Sara’s favor. Inside, buried deep where he no longer had to acknowledge it openly, he wished that Daniel could have cared for him as much as he seemed to care for Lucky.

  Miguel slept again, but as darkness fell, a man with a moustache came into the building and told him to leave. “If you haven’t anywhere to go, I can call the police,” the man said. Miguel was tempted to let him, but he couldn’t give up his vigil—not yet.

  “I got a home,” he said as he stumbled out into the cold.

  Where to go? He had to make sure Sara remained safe. If Cristina didn’t keep her, or gave her away to an orphanage, he would steal her back. His eyes riveted on the two large trash receptacles down the street where the occupants of the tall apartments emptied their wastes. These were common and Miguel had been inside many, searching for treasures discarded by others. Certainly, no one would bother him there.

  With difficulty, he climbed the grooves in the metal that formed a rough ladder and fell inside. A soft bed of stinking trash cradled his tired body. The repulsive odor nevertheless made his stomach churn with hunger; he knew from experience that mixed with the trash would be a host of edibles. He thought about searching for something to fill the gnawing in his gut, but he couldn’t find the energy to move. His head lay in something wet; he let it stay.

  At first he wasn’t too uncomfortable, but as night fell, cold enveloped his body, shortly followed by a welcome numbness. A deep despondency settled over him, and he didn’t fight the heavy urge to sleep. Would he ever have the opportunity to learn to read or to sail in a big boat with Sara? Somehow it no longer mattered.

  High-pitched barking sounds penetrated his consciousness. It took a few seconds for him to recognize Lucky.

  But Lucky was supposed to be with Sara! Where was she? Did she need him? How long had he lain there not listening or watching for her? Was he too late?

  Miguel scrambled to his feet, losing his footing several times on the plastic bags of trash. With effort, he hefted himself over the side of the bin. He lost his hold, but instead of plunging to the hard ground, strong hands caught him.

  * * * * *

  Lucky barked crazily, as Daniel cradled Miguel in his arms, unmindful of the stench surrounding him. With long strides, he ran to his apartment building, Lucky trailing behind on his leash. “Hold on, Miguel,” he murmured, unsure if Miguel could hear or understand. “It’s going to be all right. I promise. I’m taking you to Sara.”

  Miguel’s eyes fluttered open briefly. He didn’t speak, but Daniel saw a kindling of hope in the brown eyes that pierced his soul. He wanted to say more, yet there was still his secret. How could he promise a
nything more to Manuel’s child without telling him the truth behind his father’s death?

  “Call Dr. Pacheco,” Daniel said when Cristina opened the apartment door. “Get him over here. It’ll be faster than taking him to the hospital. Don’t let Pacheco give you any excuses.” The doctor was a longtime acquaintance, and Daniel knew that with a little urging he would come to the house, even in the middle of the night.

  Daniel took Miguel to his own bed, uncaring of the dirt and slime covering the boy’s body, and piled blankets over him. He turned on the electric heater, and used the water Cristina had boiled for tea in the hot water bottle. Miguel didn’t wake. His breathing was shallow and rough.

  “The doctor’s on his way,” Cristina said, coming into the room. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

  True to his word, Dr. Pacheco, a portly man with thinning silver-gray hair, soon arrived.

  “He was as cold as ice, but he’s looking better now,” Daniel told him.

  The doctor gently examined Miguel. The boy jerked awake when he shone a bright light in his eyes. “I thought that might wake you up,” said Dr. Pacheco with a little chuckle. “I’m glad it did, or we would have to take you to the hospital.”

  A wild glare came to Miguel’s eyes, but he didn’t speak or move. His left eye was no longer swollen, but still sported ugly black and green bruises. The marks made Daniel feel angry and helpless all at once. “I’m sorry, Miguel,” he murmured. But the child’s body was tense and untrusting. He relaxed only slightly when Lucky jumped on the bed and licked his hand.

  Cristina sat on the bed near Miguel. “Sara’s here,” she said gently. “She’s sleeping. As soon as she wakes, she’ll come in.” At Miguel’s grateful glance, she continued. “Now can you let the doctor see what’s wrong with you? He wants to help. We all do.”

  The child consented, but his eyes never left Daniel’s face. Everywhere Daniel paced, he could feel those eyes on him, watching, waiting.

  “He’s suffering from exposure,” the doctor told them after his examination. “Like his sister, only worse. If you’d taken him to the hospital they would have kept him at least a few days, but since I’m worried about taking him back out into the cold and”—his eyes flicked to Cristina—“away from such a dedicated nurse, I won’t insist that you admit him. Make no mistake, if you hadn’t found him, he probably wouldn’t have survived the night with temperatures as cold as we’re having. But as long as you keep him warm and get enough liquids down him, he should be fine. If he won’t drink, however, we’ll have to do an IV and get him to the hospital.” He frowned. “A hospital is no place for a child the week before Christmas.”

  “Well take good care of him,” Cristina answered. “I’ve got some soup right here in this mug. Do you think you can drink some, Miguel? It’ll warm you up even more.”

  Dr. Pacheco grinned. “He’d better drink it, if he wants to be out of bed before Christmas. Hey, that reminds me. Have you heard about the display in the park? They say it’s going to be a wonderful night of interfaith worship. You might want to check it out.”

  Daniel looked at Cristina. “I heard about it,” he replied dryly.

  The doctor scribbled on a pad. “Make sure he takes this prescription and call me if there’s any change for the worse. He’s a strong boy. His experience might have killed you or me.” He glanced back at Miguel, whose eyes had dulled as the fear and anger faded. “I don’t want to hear about you having any more escapades, young man,” he said with false sternness. “You need to stay right here in this bed for at least a week, maybe longer.” Miguel’s eyes closed and Daniel wondered if he had heard the words.

  “Drink this first, Miguel,” Cristina said. “Then sleep. I’ll hold the cup for you.”

  Daniel escorted the doctor to the door. “Thank you for coming. I won’t forget this.”

  “It’s a fine thing you’re doing for those children,” Dr. Pacheco returned. “Most people wouldn’t get involved.”

  Daniel stifled his guilt. He’d been one of those people.

  “Of course, Miguel should probably take a warm bath as soon as he’s able to walk by himself. Don’t let his hair stay wet. Perhaps a sponge bath would do, if he’ll permit that. Give him lots of liquids and nourishing, easily digestible foods—soups and the like. Be sure to bring him in next week before the holiday for a checkup. Merry Christmas to you, now.”

  Daniel smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

  He returned to the room to find Cristina watching Miguel, whose arms clutched Lucky as if holding on to a lifesaver in a stormy sea. “I got half the cup down him before he fell asleep,” she said. “He was trying to stay awake—probably so he could see Sara—but he couldn’t hold on.”

  Tears came to Daniel’s eyes. He folded his arms across his chest to protect his heart from the horror of what he had to tell her. “I found him in the trash bin.” He nearly choked on the words. “The trash bin, if you can believe it! By tomorrow it would have been full, and they would have come to empty it.” He paused. “We might never have known.”

  Cristina moved closer and put her hand on his arm. “You found him. That’s what’s important. And he’ll never be in that position again.”

  “How do I know that?”

  She drew back, looking quickly at the sleeping Miguel. “You said earlier that you wanted to take care of them.”

  “That was before I knew they were Manuel’s children.”

  Cristina’s head whipped around to stare at him, anger tinting her face at what she must clearly see as his betrayal. “What on earth are you saying? Do you want to be a part of their lives, or don’t you? Why does their being Manuel’s children change things? If anything, you owe them more because of that. Or is it because they’re part gypsy? I never knew you to be a bigot!”

  Daniel could hardly breathe. “It’s not that.” He turned on his heel and left the room, but Cristina ran after him.

  “You said you loved me! You agreed to keep the children! Don’t go back on your word, please!” She was crying in earnest now.

  He stopped abruptly in the entryway. “Or what? You’ll leave me again?”

  She shook her head back and forth, almost imperceptibly, and though her face was streaked with tears, she’d never been more beautiful to him. “I’m through running away. I’ve learned enough in these past weeks to know that I can’t be happy without you. You’re part of me. The only way I’m leaving is if you don’t want me here. But I thought you were beginning to love Miguel and Sara. I thought you saw how they filled the empty parts of our lives. What changed? Why can’t you tell me?”

  “I want to,” he agonized. “But there’s something you don’t know, something I hoped you’d never find out. I don’t know how to tell you—or the children.” He pressed his knuckles into his temple. “Especially the children.”

  The color in her face gradually returned to normal. “What is it? You have to tell us. For you, the children, and mostly for us. Because whatever secret you’re hiding is coming between us more and more.”

  She was right, but the realization of what he needed to say penetrated Daniel’s heart like the stab of a sharp knife, reaching deep and cutting out that which made him want to live. He took a shaky breath. “I’m the reason Manuel’s dead. It’s because of me those children don’t have a father. When he discovers the truth, I don’t think Miguel will ever forgive me.”

  Cristina gave a low cry of disbelief and sympathy. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him. “Tell me what happened.”

  * * * * *

  The next evening Daniel called his old friend António Bernardino. “Hello, Daniel here. How’s everything going?”

  “Well, my friend. Been busy with the coming holiday, of course, as you must be. And you? How are you and Cristina? I take it this is a social call, since you’ve reached me at home. Are you calling to invite us to another infernal Christmas party? Not that I won’t come; Cristina’s bacalhau à brás is the best I’ve ever tasted. And it’
s been a long time since we’ve gotten together.”

  “Actually, I’m calling on business. We haven’t had much time over here to think about parties.”

  “I hear you.” António’s voice became brisk. “What’s going on?”

  “I think I know the identity of the woman you found in the woods.”

  “You do? Why, that’s great. You can’t believe the headache that one has caused. For weeks, I’ve done nothing but mediate between the concerned parties. The coroner says she’s given birth before, so she might have a child or children somewhere, but none have shown up. What did you find?”

  “Her name is Octávia Silva. I don’t have the exact address of where she lived, but I have the idea it’s in one of those shack communities. Not from the shacks in the forest where she was found, but someplace nearby. Didn’t you say there was one close?”

  “Actually, yes. Within easy walking distance.”

  “With her name, you can check the government records and find the exact address. She had two minors living with her, so she probably would have received the monthly child allotment. A thousand escudos isn’t much, but I doubt she would have passed it up.”

  “Two minors? How did you discover this?”

  “Turns out that their father was a friend of mine. I think the woman was his sister.”

  “I’ll make some calls for the address and then go over right now,” António said. “I can’t imagine how those children have been surviving all these weeks.”

  Daniel hesitated. “They’re here with me. They’ve had it pretty bad, though.”

  There was a brief silence on the line. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Daniel didn’t, but he quickly outlined the circumstances.

  “Do the children have any relatives?” António asked carefully.

  “Not on the father’s side, I’m fairly sure, but maybe on the mother’s.” Daniel explained about Ana Paula’s gypsy family.

  “It could be that they’ll want them back, even after disowning their daughter.”