Sooner or Later (10 page)

For reasons Luke would
probably never know, the beatings had stopped. The pain was manageable now, and with this unexpected reprieve came the will to continue. For the first time since his capture, he found the strength to live.

In the back of his mind, a hazy remembrance of Rosita’s visit haunted him. Had it been real? He no longer knew. For whatever reason, God had allowed her to come to him, whether in body or spirit, he didn’t know. Whichever form, Luke was grateful.

Try as he might, he didn’t recall what she’d said, if indeed she had actually visited him.

All he remembered was that in the worst of his pain, when the agony had been more than he could bear, she’d been there, smoothing his hair from his brow, whispering reassurances. He’d felt her love and her courage as powerfully as if she’d dressed his physical injuries.

Luke’s heart swelled with love for the beautiful woman and the future he’d planned with her as his wife.

When he’d been assigned Zarcero, Luke had been confident the Lord had sent him to the troubled Central American country for a specific reason. He’d been in Zarcero almost two years before he’d discovered what God had wanted to teach him.

Love.

Not for the gentle peasants who made up a large part of his ministry. His heart had been prepared to love and encourage them for years beforehand. That they had accepted and loved him in return had come as a bonus. The people of Zarcero had been both generous and gracious from the first.

No, what God had sent him to Zarcero to learn was about the love a man has for a woman. What his parents might have shared at one time but had lost.

Luke couldn’t remember the first time he’d met Rosita. It wasn’t her beauty that stood out in his mind, although she was more lovely than words could adequately express.

Each morning she walked her younger brother and sister to the mission school on her way to work at the market. He must have greeted her a hundred times before he truly noticed her the way a man notices a woman.

This sudden awareness had taken him by surprise. Luke had dedicated his life to God’s work, and after his own parents’ miserable marriage, he’d decided to remain single.

Mission work was frequently demanding, and he
didn’t want to be forced to make the often difficult choice between the needs of his congregation and those of a family.

Paul Madden had never completely recovered from the loss of his wife. He’d lived with doubts and regrets the remainder of his days.

Luke’s father had loved his wife heart and soul, and when she’d abandoned him with two children for another man, he’d accepted the blame as if he were the one solely at fault. If only he’d been a better husband instead of a good minister. If only he’d paid more attention to his wife and less to his congregation. He’d never forgiven himself. Never remarried. Never chanced love a second time.

Luke had vowed not to make the same mistake. Naturally he’d been tempted to fall in love. He was as human as the next man, and susceptible to the attention of attractive young women. There’d been any number who’d caught his eye.

But never anyone like Rosita. She was good and kind, gentle and caring. He noticed how the people of Managna loved her. Anyone who knew her couldn’t help being affected by her goodness and delicate beauty.

It had taken months for him to pay her heed, but the same wasn’t true for Rosita. She claimed her younger brother and sister were fully capable of finding their own way to school. With love shining from her eyes, she took pleasure in reminding him that he was probably the most obtuse man in the universe.

Luke didn’t doubt it.

It took him months to actually get around to asking her out. The night of their dinner, he was a nervous
wreck. He was twenty-seven years old and felt as though he were seventeen all over again.

When he stopped off at Rosita s house, his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He chatted amicably with her father, patted the top of her sister’s head, and joked with her brother. Then Rosita came out, wearing a lovely white dress with a flowing skirt and red belt. His heart hitchhiked straight to his knees.

Later that evening, when Luke brought her back to her family, he was convinced he was the worst dinner companion she’d ever known. Their meal had been a disaster, and he’d been the one at fault.

True, nerves had played a part in his uneasiness, but more than that Luke realized that he loved this woman. His sentiments had long since been decided. This wasn’t high school or college, where he’d found himself fleetingly attracted to the opposite sex. This was love and the real world.

He hadn’t come to Zarcero looking for a wife or the responsibilities of a family. He’d charted his course, confident he was doing the right thing. Then God in His almighty wisdom had hurled a wrench into his picture-perfect blueprint.

Instead of rejoicing in this wonder, instead of thanking God for this unexpected gift, Luke had decided he wanted nothing to do with love. Love would hinder his work. Loving Rosita would handicap his efforts with the people of Zarcero. Love would distract him from his purpose.

Luke decided he wanted none of it. In time, whatever physical attraction he felt for the beautiful young woman would fade.

It didn’t.

Instead it grew and blossomed without so much as a touch or a kiss.

Luke wrote his sister, asked for prayers for a deep, inner struggle without telling her exactly what it was he battled. As close as he was to Letty, he feared she would never understand.

When it came to love and marriage, he and Letty appeared to be of the same mind. She’d shown no more inclination toward the married state than he did himself.

Finally, after avoiding Rosita for two months, he inadvertently ran into her while visiting an elderly widow, Mrs. Esparza.

To his shock and hers, Rosita answered the door. She’d been reading to the sickly ninety-four-year-old, and for the first time in days Mrs. Esparza was sleeping comfortably.

Luke was inclined to leave quickly, avoid temptation. A disciplined man by nature, he made his excuses, promised to return later, and headed out the front door.

For reasons he never understood, before he walked out, he turned and looked back at Rosita. He discovered her sitting by the old woman’s bed, her head bowed and her eyes bright with tears.

When he questioned her about the emotion, she blushed and claimed dust had gotten in her eyes. Once more Luke turned to leave. And couldn’t.

All at once he was tired of fighting what he wanted most. Tired of pretending he was strong. Tired of ignoring his heart.

That was the afternoon Luke learned the lessons God had been struggling to teach him. The lessons he had rejected. The lessons of love.

Luke was a man. But he’d been trying to live the life of a saint, with his head buried in the sand, ignoring the man God meant him to be. It had taken this slap alongside of his head to accept and appreciate the human side of his nature.

The physical part of him had been ignored and repressed for so long that when he set it free, it nearly carried him straight over a cliff.

From that day forward Luke knew it was either preach one thing and live another or marry Rosita. Two weeks before the army overtook the government, Luke had asked Rosita to be his wife and she’d agreed.

He’d known asking her to share his life and his ministry was what God intended from the minute he’d found the courage to pop the question.

He’d hungered for the day he and Rosita could be married. Silently he’d vowed to find a balance in his life, to continue his work with the mission and at the same time be a good husband and father.

Luke opened his eyes and looked around the bare jail cell, and with renewed strength he prayed for the future.

That evening, when a plate of unpalatable food was shoved into the cell, Luke forced himself to swallow a few bites. Then, because he needed to say it aloud, he sat at the end of his bunk, raised his eyes to heaven, and whispered.

“I want to live.”

Anger was an unfamiliar
and uncomfortable emotion to Letty. She sat on the dark hillside and trembled with outrage after Murphy’s departure.

The sight of him with that…woman, burying his face in her breasts, kissing and sucking her neck, was enough to make Letty physically ill. Her stomach burned every time she thought about it.

She was well rid of him. Clearly she had misplaced her trust. It was a painful and expensive lesson, but one best learned now. Murphy had already delayed her an entire day. Who was to say how much more time he would have wasted while he entertained himself with that hussy.

Undoubtedly he considered her a fool for having dismissed him. The decision had been made in the heat of anger, but that didn’t mean she was without resources.

The church steeple silhouetted the moonlit sky. Although Luke had been in Zarcero only a little over two years, he was well known and loved in the religious community. All she needed was to contact another minister or priest, and they would lead her to her brother.

Careful to avoid detection, Letty made her way toward the Catholic church. The street was dark and silent in front of the hundred-year-old structure. Tall, thick doors marked the entrance.

Letty studied the street a long time, fearing that the moment she moved into the open, she’d be caught. Her concern was unjustified. Murphy had apparently paraded around all day in that silly looking uniform and no one had noticed him.

Drawing in a deep breath, she walked out of the shadows and stepped smartly toward the church. By the time she’d made it up the few short church steps, her heart felt as if it were about to explode inside her chest

To her relief, she found that the building wasn’t locked. The moment she applied pressure, the thick wooden door creaked open.

She stepped into the vestibule and heard an eerie clicking sound. Blinded by the light, she raised her hand to shade her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was that the pews were missing. Instead the church was filled with desks. And soldiers. Lots of soldiers.

The strange clicking noise she’d heard earlier was the sound of rifles.

Letty froze. The barrels of a dozen guns were pointed at her heart. This place no longer served as
a house of God; it was a command center for rebel soldiers.

The farther he walked, the angrier Murphy became. Soon he found himself swearing, first under his breath and then louder, until he had to restrain himself from shouting. But even that didn’t make him feel better.

And he knew why.

Despite the fact Letty had fired him. Despite the fact he cursed the day he’d ever laid eyes on her. Despite his better judgment, he was going back.

He couldn’t think of a single reason why he should, except his conscience. If anything happened to her, and it would—the woman was not only stupid, she was as naive as they came—he’d never be able to live with himself.

In addition, there was the small problem of his promise. He’d assured her, again knowing he’d regret it, that he’d find her brother.

While it was true he’d have a hell of a better chance rescuing Luke Madden without Letty, in good conscience he couldn’t leave her behind to an uncertain fate.

As much as he’d like to do exactly that.

The woman exasperated him. She was God’s revenge against a life of not giving a damn.

As he made his way back to the village, Murphy brought his emotions under control. He was going to need his wits about him. He’d have to deal with the rebels, true, but he’d managed to stay alive in these
types of situations for years. He excelled in the art of disguise, of blending into the background. The unknown element, what gave him the greatest concern, wasn’t the rebels. It was Letty.

It would be just like her to give them both away the minute she laid eyes on him. The woman didn’t possess a nickel’s worth of common sense.

As he reentered the town, he noted that the music continued to blare from the cantina. The festivities had yet to wind down and wouldn’t, he suspected, until the wee hours of the morning.

He walked down the street with purpose, as if he were under important orders. No one stopped to question him, and he doubted that they would.

He paused as he neared the far end of the main street. The last structure left on the block was an old church. He almost discounted it, almost looked past the obvious.

Lights on at this time of night? In a church?

Something was very wrong.

Letty was forced into a chair, and her arms were tied behind her. She glared up at the rebel leader, whose name was Captain Norte, and refused to allow him to see her fear.

“How did you get into Siguierres?” he demanded in broken English.

She told him the truth. “I walked.” She said it without emotion, without sarcasm.

He backhanded her across the face. Blood filled her mouth, and she blinked up at him, shocked and
stunned by his violence. He looked as if he’d relish hitting her again.

“Put her in jail. Let her cool her heels with the rats for the time being and see if that loosens her tongue,” he instructed two guards.

Her hands were untied, and with a soldier at each side she was half lifted from the chair and escorted out the front door. The cool air felt good against her burning, stinging face. She moved her lips carefully. She’d never known a slap could be so painful.

The two men at her side spoke in whispers. At first Letty couldn’t make out what they were saying, then she understood that they’d agreed not to take her directly to the jail. They intended to have a little fun with her themselves first.

“No,” she said, jerking her elbows first one way and then another. She spoke rapidly in Spanish, telling them that their captain would be greatly displeased when he learned what they’d done. She reminded them that officers expected their orders to be carried out without question and that their captain had ordered them to escort her to the jail.

Desperate now, she told them that if they were to rebuild their country, they must do so with honor. Not with despicable acts of violence against innocent women.

She spoke fast, reasoned hard, and with each frantic plea she realized she might as well have saved her breath. The two weren’t about to be cheated out of their pleasure.

They dragged her kicking and screaming behind a building and threw her down upon the hard ground.
She fell against her backpack, and the wind was knocked out of her.

One man held her shoulders, pinning them to the ground. It took both men to restrain her. They allowed her to kick and writhe until her energy was spent before the larger of the two men knelt and ripped open her blouse.

Letty closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. She nearly gagged at the rough feel of his hands over her smooth skin. She kicked and bucked with renewed effort, but to no avail. Soon he straddled her legs and began to unfasten the snap of her jeans.

When the man holding her shoulders urged the other to hurry, Letty started to sob, her ability to fight, to resist, nearly depleted.

The first man positioned himself atop her, his weight crushing her to the ground.

At that precise moment the night exploded around them. The ground trembled, and a blast rocked the entire town. Flames shot into the sky, followed by a low rumble that grew in intensity.

“The fuel dump!” one of the men shouted in terror. He released her and ran. The soldier atop her was only momentarily fazed. Using his forearm for leverage, he rammed his arm across her throat, cutting off her oxygen supply. Her struggles ceased as a new, immediate need took over. She needed to breathe.

Just when Letty thought she was about to pass out for lack of air, the pressure was gone. The rebel went limp. His arm fell from her throat and she gasped, drawing in a deep, fresh breath of air. He was pro
pelled away from her, his eyes frozen open, an expression of shocked horror on his face.

Sobbing, she looked up at her savior, certain what she saw must be an apparition.

Murphy leaned forward and offered her his hand. “Come on,” he shouted, “we’ve got to get out of here, and fast.”

For the life of her, she couldn’t move. Not giving her the option, he reached down and brought her to her feet. Impatiently he swept her into his arms. The next thing Letty knew, she was tossed in the front seat of a jeep with its engine running.

Within seconds they were barreling out of town, leaving a huge dust trail in their wake.

Murphy continued at a dangerous pace. It was all Letty could do to keep from being hurled onto the road.

By the time he slowed down, reaction had set in and Letty was trembling from head to foot with a chill that came from the inside out.

Murphy glanced at her. “You all right?”

She answered him by slamming her fist against his upper arm and sobbing, “You came back….”

“Well, don’t thank me or anything.”

She wrapped her arms around herself as the cold, brutal reality of what had nearly happened refused to let go.

“Answer me,” Murphy snapped. “Are you okay?”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yes, damn it, I’m sure.”

“It’s going to be all right,” Murphy said with surprising tenderness.

Letty had dealt with his anger, his harshness, his unfriendliness. She didn’t know how to deal with his gentleness. She brushed the tears from her face and sniffled.

“Thank you,” she whispered.