by Connie Mann
“Come Senhorita, please,” Fernando said, tugging her sleeve.
Focus on the present, she reminded herself sternly as she crawled between the dumpster and the rotting fence. She flipped on her heavy-duty flashlight and shone it around the small space. At first, all she saw were several of the orphanage blankets. But then she saw a small face, a young girl, barely in her teens, curled on her side. The girl let out a soft moan, cradling her middle, tears streaming down her battered face. When the flashlight beam landed on her torn clothes and the bloodstained blankets, bile surged into Regina’s throat.
Dear God no, not another one. Regina clamped her back teeth against the fury and pain screaming for release. That made three girls just this week. Prostitution, even rape, were common in the slums, but not this kind of battering. Someone was prowling the favelas and using these girls to vent a frightening rage.
She wanted to wrap this child in her arms and whisper comforting words, but she didn’t have time. Emotions would be dealt with later. Right now her medical skills were critical.
Seeing the terror in Fernando’s eyes, Regina sent him a reassuring smile, quickly traded her woolen mittens for surgical gloves, and went to work. “Hold the light, just so,” she instructed the boy. “What’s her name?”
“Leticia,” Fernando said, and then added in a whisper, “She’s my sister.”
Bending over her patient, Regina summoned her most confident smile while she silently begged God to give her wisdom and help her save this child. “Hello, Leticia. I’m Regina, and I’m going to help you.”
“Senhorita Angel,” the girl whispered, blood trickling from her split lip.
Regina winked, though she wanted to cry. “At your service.” She ran her hands quickly over the young girl, assessing the damage. This girl needed stitches and she needed them now.
“Fernando, go get water from the van!” Her voice snapped with authority, moving him from where he stood rooted in horror. This would give him something to do, a way to help.
Regina pulled out her supplies, fighting the urge to grab the girl and run while she still could, just as she had on the street earlier. But Leticia’s desperate brown eyes kept her firmly in place, blocking out everything but the next step she needed to take, the next instruction she needed to give.
With Jorge stationed out by the van to give what protection he could and Fernando holding the flashlight, Regina murmured encouragement. “Stay with me, Leticia. That’s it. It’s going to be okay.”
Blood. Dear God. Too much blood. Help me, Father. Regina mopped and probed and kept up a stream of encouraging words, but Leticia’s strength ebbed, and she drifted in and out of consciousness. Working against the clock, Regina stitched delicate tissues and bandaged deep wounds. If only she could convince Dr. Perez to come out here with her more often. But thankfully, he’d stop by House of Angels in the morning before he went to his office.
A long time later, when the bleeding finally slowed and Leticia started to come around, Regina released a slow, triumphant sigh. The streets would not claim another victim.
She whistled for Jorge and the old man came running. Together, the three of them bundled Leticia into the back of the van for the short ride to the orphanage.
Fernando immediately clambered in beside his sister and Regina followed, signaling Jorge with a quick rap on the ceiling. Regina glanced at the sleeping children huddled inside the van, then leaned forward and took Fernando’s thin hand between her own, desperate to ease the guilt she saw in his face. “You did the right thing. This isn’t your fault.”
He wouldn’t say anything, so Regina raised his chin so he’d have to meet her eyes. “You were very brave tonight. And a big help. Leticia is going to be okay.”
Again the shrug and the averted eyes. Regina sighed at his response, but she understood too well. If you expected nothing, you weren’t disappointed.
A few minutes later, the three of them were carrying Leticia through the orphanage’s back door on a makeshift stretcher when Irene’s battered Toyota screeched to a halt behind the van. Regina couldn’t help an automatic smile at the hundreds of bumper stickers plastered over every square inch of the old heap. She figured they were the only things holding the ancient rust bucket together.
Irene leaped from the car and helped maneuver the stretcher into the infirmary. “I’ve been looking all over for you, my friend. Let’s go.”
Torn, Regina looked from Irene to Leticia’s bruised face. Jorge met her gaze. “You go. Olga and I will take good care of the little one. Irene’s plane will not wait.”
Regina nodded and turned toward the door, but Irene stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Ah, that might not be the fashion statement you want to make.”
Regina looked down, noticing the blood on her clothes and hands. “Right.” After a quick scrub of her hands, a change of clothes, and a silent prayer for Leticia, Regina climbed into Irene’s car, carefully gathering Eduardo onto her lap.
“I hear our newest little angel is going to be okay, thanks to you,” Irene said, launching the car into traffic without a single look over her shoulder.
At the sound of a horn, Regina braced her feet against the rusted floorboards and wished again for a car seat for Eduardo. But Irene wanted no part of that American obsession. At least not until she got to the United States. Regina tightened her seat belt and her grip on the boy. “It was touch and go for a while, but I think she’ll be okay, thank God.” And Regina would be back at the orphanage soon, just to make sure. Rubbing her neck to loosen tight muscles, she looked at her watch, then at her friend.
“You’re early.”
In another hour, the sun would break across the horizon, though traffic was picking up rapidly.
Irene grinned impishly. “I figured we’d have time for breakfast on the way to the airport.”
Regina tried to smile, but it fell flat. She’d been dreading this moment. “I hate good-byes.”
“Me, too. But it won’t really be good-bye. We’ll stay in touch, just like always.” Irene cut across three lanes of traffic and roared into the parking lot behind a little café. “No sad stuff.”
They kept up the steady banter of old friends, carefully avoiding anything that might lead to tears. But halfway through breakfast, Irene, a smile on her face and a bite of roll halfway to her mouth, suddenly looked past Regina and froze, her face turning white. Head averted, she reached for her napkin.
“What’s the matter?” Regina asked, swiveling around to see what had caused such a reaction.
“Nothing. Keep eating.”
But Regina noticed Irene’s trembling hands. Alarmed, she gave the café another careful once over, seeing nothing but the usual assortment of diners, none paying them the slightest bit of attention.
She leaned down so she could see Irene’s face. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing. Look, I’m just a little jumpy, with the move and everything.”
Regina didn’t buy it. The silence lengthened unnaturally, but she simply waited.
Finally, Irene burst out, “I want your promise, Regina, your solemn oath, that if something ever happens to me, you’ll take care of Eduardo. Make sure he has a good home with loving parents.”
A chill slithered down Regina’s spine, raising gooseflesh on her arms. “Of course. That goes without saying. But why are you asking me this now?”
Irene fiddled with Eduardo’s bib and Regina’s anxiety inched up another notch. “Irene. What’s wrong?”
Irene’s head snapped up then, her look fierce. “There’s nothing wrong, okay. This is about being a mother. About covering all the bases, just in case.”
Regina judged the truth in her friend’s eyes and then slowly nodded. “You have my promise, but what about Eduardo’s father? Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with him?”
“No.”
Regina waited, but Irene kept silent on the subject, as always. Regina scanned the café again. Was one of these men Ed
uardo’s father? “Irene—”
“And one more thing—” Irene interrupted, a bit desperately. She met Regina’s gaze squarely. “Don’t ever fall for a spineless, cheating piece of trash like I did.”
Oh, but you got a precious baby out of the deal, Regina’s heart cried, a family of your own. She knew Irene wasn’t proud of having a baby outside of marriage, but they’d both been completely awed that Irene had been able to conceive at all, given the childhood they’d had. Before Regina could put her conflicting thoughts into words, Eduardo let out an unhappy yowl.
His volume steadily increased after they got back into the car. “Got any more ideas on how to calm him down?” Regina shouted above the baby’s indignant screams.
“He’s dry, you said?” Irene shouted back. She pounded on the horn, gesturing wildly at the driver ahead of them.
“Yes. And he’s not hungry, so I don’t know what to do.” Regina jiggled Eduardo against her shoulder but that only seemed to make him more annoyed.
Irene suddenly swerved sharply to the right and Regina gripped the dashboard to keep from dropping him. “Maybe some juice would help,” Irene said. “He likes that.”
Regina stopped her friend before she could hop out of the car. “Let me go. Maybe a change of scenery will help.” She hoisted Eduardo onto her shoulder and ran across the street to the tiny mercado.
She quickly scanned the aisles, then beelined toward the cold drink coolers along the back wall. People stared at the screeching child, but she barely noticed. She snapped a bottle off the shelf, unscrewed the lid and replaced it with a nipple she’d stashed in her pocket. Two seconds after she shoved it between the boy’s lips, blessed quiet permeated the store. Regina let out a sigh of relief and headed for the checkout.
“Cute little boy,” the elderly clerk replied.
“Sim,” Regina agreed. “But you should have heard him a few minutes—”
A deafening roar drowned out the rest of her words. The building shook as though a great hand had plucked it off the ground and then tossed it back down. Cans tumbled from shelves, people screamed. Regina lost her footing and went down on her back, Eduardo clutched against her chest. Too stunned to move, she lay still for several seconds. Or maybe minutes, she had no idea.
“Are you okay, Senhorita?” the old man asked, crouched beside her, covering his nose with his sleeve against the boiling dust.
Regina blinked the grit from her eyes and tried to focus. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he said, helping her to her feet.
As soon as she stood up, Regina ran her hands over the baby, who looked back at her with wide, unblinking eyes. He didn’t seem to be any the worse for wear, though the shattered juice bottle mingled with the rest of the debris on the floor. But he wasn’t screeching, which Regina took as a good sign.
She turned in a slow circle, trying to get her bearings. The store looked like the aftermath of the tornado she’d witnessed during her high school years in Orlando. One glance out the shop’s missing front window and she stumbled toward the door. “Irene!” she screamed.
Once outside she stopped, stunned. It looked like the whole street was on fire. Black smoke belched into the air and heat from a wall of flames seared her skin. Her heart thundered in her chest. Where was Irene?
“Irene!” she called again, shielding her face with her arm, trying to see beyond the crush. People milled about, crying, shouting, pointing at something across the street.
The thick smoke shifted for just a moment. “Dear God, no! Irene!”
The flames came from Irene’s little car. Roaring tongues of fire engulfed it completely, shooting out the windows, arcing twenty feet in the air.
Regina tightened her grip on Eduardo and tried to get closer, her only thought to help her friend. She hadn’t taken two steps when strong arms grabbed her from behind, holding her back.
“Let me go!” She tried to break their hold, but couldn’t.
“Go back. There’s nothing you can do!” a voice shouted in her ear.
Regina increased her struggles. “I have to help her. Irene!”
Another pair of hands forcibly turned her away from the sight. “You can’t help. She’s in God’s hands now.”
Regina’s eyes widened in shock, not comprehending. Then she looked back at the car and reality hit her full force. She sagged as understanding sucked all the strength from her legs. If not for those supporting her, she would have crumpled to the ground. “Noooo!”
Her teeth began to chatter, and everything took on an odd sheen of unreality. The baby clutched in her arms became the only real thing in her world.
“I’m okay,” she finally managed, and the men slowly let her go. She heard sirens in the distance, but the shouts and chaos all around her seemed strangely muted.
Dimly, as though the sound came from far away, she realized Eduardo had started shrieking at the top of his lungs. Automatically, she shifted his position and began crooning to him. She had to think, but her brain jumbled images and impressions; every coherent thought slithered just out of reach.
Stunned, in shock, she stood in the middle of the crowd, an isolated figure in the sea of turmoil. She looked into Eduardo’s sweet, angry face, and her thoughts suddenly focused with razor sharpness: Eduardo. She had to look out for Eduardo.
She raised her head to look around and froze as a shiver passed over her skin. Someone was watching her. Just like last night. Was it the same person?
Instinctively, Regina pulled her coat around Eduardo, hiding him from view. Irene would accuse her of an overactive imagination, but Regina knew better. Until three days ago, it had been years since she’d been the object of covert scrutiny, but it was a chilling sensation you never forgot. Maybe a street child watched her, too scared to approach, but Regina wasn’t taking any chances.
Casually, she scanned the milling crowd, looking for any telltale sign—a quickly averted face, a too-interested look—but nobody seemed to be paying her the slightest bit of attention. Which didn’t mean a thing. She’d come a long way from the scrawny street child she’d been, but only a fool ignored her instincts when they were screaming to be heard. And they were shrieking at top volume. She had to get away—now.
Head down, she melted into the crowd and made her way quickly, carefully, back to the one safe place in her world: the House of Angels.
The man watched the flames and smiled. He’d gotten some beautiful shots of the explosion. As soon as he got home, he’d send the photos winging their way through cyberspace, thanks to his new computer and the helpful sales clerks’ demonstrations on both e-mail and the digital camera. In case anyone didn’t want to take him seriously, these pictures should convince them he meant exactly what he said. Though he did wish he could see his nemesis’s face when he opened his e-mail. Since that wasn’t possible, he would content himself with the fact that the man would know. And would tremble in fear.
When Regina suddenly scanned the crowd as though she sensed his presence, he slid the camera into the pocket of his cashmere coat and fought the urge to go to her. He carefully tucked his hands inside his coat. He wanted to reassure her, tell her he meant her no harm. Actually, he wanted to hold her close, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it. At least not yet. He knew of her aversion to men, her well-deserved fear of being violated. He would help her through it, until she welcomed his touch.
When she wiped at her tears, a spurt of irritation shot through him, but he fought it back. She didn’t understand. She had no reason for tears. Irene got what she deserved. The guilty had to die. But the time to explain had not yet come. The street children called her Senhorita Angel, and now she had her own guardian angel: him.
As she turned away, a sudden noise stopped him in his tracks. He looked back and anger surged through his veins. She had the child wrapped in her coat! The baby hadn’t been in the car.
Breathing heavily, he followed her, his mind working furiously. They couldn’t start their life togethe
r until he’d completed his revenge.
He would have to rearrange his plans, change the order he’d decided upon. He didn’t like it, but for Regina and their future, he would.
He nodded and headed for home. The time had come for the guilty to pay.
The child was the next bill due.
2
BUT WHY DID SHE HAVE TO GO TO HEAVEN NOW, TIA REGINA?” ELENA asked, her sweet voice thick with tears.
Regina settled the six-year-old on her lap and brushed a hand over Elena’s dark hair, wincing at the pain in her raw palms. For the second time in an hour, she tried to answer the unanswerable question. God, help me explain what I don’t understand myself. “I don’t know, angel. I know sometimes things happen that don’t make sense to us.”
“Like when my parents died in the bus crash?”
Regina’s heart ached. So many of the children had known far too much anguish for their meager years. “Yes, angel. Like that. Sometimes we don’t understand, but we must believe that God knows what’s best.”
Elena’s eyes filled. “How can it be best that someone hurt Tia Irene? On purpose.”
Oh, dear Lord. Regina took Elena’s chin in her hand. “Where did you hear that?”
Elena ducked her head between Regina’s neck and shoulder, her words muffled. “Me and Christiane wanted to know what the policeman said. We listened outside the window. He said a bomb went off.” She sat up and looked at Regina with frightened eyes. “Is someone going to hurt us, too?”
Anger coiled hot and furious in Regina’s heart. Whoever set the explosion had also stolen the first bit of security most of these children had ever known. She looked directly into the girl’s dark eyes. “You listen to me, Elena, and you listen close. No one, and I mean no one, is going to hurt any of our angels. Jorge, Olga, and I will make sure of it.”
Dark eyes studied her intently. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Regina said, meaning every word.