Sounds of Silence (9 page)

“Eli, thank you again—”

“Isabel, will you stop that?” He sounded mildly impatient. “I’ve been wanting to take you someplace special for a long time. I told you, you deserve it.”

Her eyes widened. Oh. It was about his ridiculous guilty conscience. “The debt’s paid,” she said stiffly.

He frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Maybe Owen was right.”

“Owen? What’s he got to do with anything?”

“Not much,” he muttered, then took a deep breath as if considering some momentous decision.

Fascinated, confused and suddenly twitchy, Isabel stood under Eli’s blue-eyed regard. She needed to get inside the house before the neighbors started wondering what was going on. Mrs. Peterson across the street liked to look out her front window. But something about the way Eli’s gaze moved over her face made her stand perfectly still. An intent stare that she recognized in some fundamental way, but couldn’t have explained.

“I need to…” she began, and couldn’t finish the thought. Eli was leaning down, one hand on the open door, the other on the roof beside her head.

“Close your eyes, Isabel, I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. She obeyed and felt his breath on her cheek, his mouth opening her lips sweetly, and every thought left her head.

Thoughts, she supposed, were highly overrated anyway.

She heard a door slam. Eli jerked away from her, and she remembered she’d been kissing him in broad daylight in front of anybody who happened to be looking out a window or driving down the street.

Or pelting down the driveway.

“Mommy! Mommy! You’re back! I dived and Mercedes learned to swim and Owen put a minnow down Benny’s back! Can I have an ice-cream sandwich?” Danilo cast himself against Isabel’s legs, looking up at her with shining brown eyes.

“I suppose so.” Isabel looked around to find Owen himself standing in the front door, holding Mercedes’s hand, with a smug smile on his sunburned face.

“I’ll take one of those, too,” Owen drawled, and she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about ice cream.

“Let’s—” Isabel gulped “—let me just get in the house and we’ll see.” She slipped past Eli, who looked as if he’d just walked into a wall. “How did everything go, Owen?” Her lips felt on fire. She wasn’t sure she was speaking English.

“Looks like it went pretty well.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Owen.”

“Well, you asked.” He grinned.

“Have you fed them any supper yet?” Isabel marched up the sidewalk, stepping over the dog sprawled across the porch steps. “Hey, Fonzie.”

“You mean they have to eat?” Owen said innocently, then called out to his brother. “Come on in, Eli—or haven’t you had enough communing with nature for one day?”

Eli gave himself a little shake and shut the passenger door of the Jeep. “I guess I have. Haven’t. What are you talking about?” He followed Isabel, swinging Danilo onto his shoulders.

“I just want to make it perfectly clear, yard boy, that you owe me big-time.” Winking at Mercedes, Owen stepped aside so that Isabel could enter the house.

She paused in the kitchen doorway, surveying the detritus of a very messy supper spread all over every visible surface. “What exactly have you been doing in here? Dissecting the San Antonio Zoo?”

Owen peered over her shoulder. “They couldn’t decide what they wanted, so I gave ’em one of each.”

Isabel clenched her hands together to keep from giving Owen a Three Stooges poke in the eyes. “Okay. But popsicles, cheese curls, pretzels and chocolate cookies are not the four basic food groups.”

“That explains the black teeth,” said Eli from the living room. “And Mercedes looks like she doesn’t feel well.”

Great,
Isabel thought. She was going to pay in spades for her day off.

Chapter Eight

T
he nightmare came again, this time sending Isabel plunging into darkness. Dark water. Water, drowning suffocating blinding.

She struggled to sit up, wide-eyed and coughing, tears pouring.

Not water. Smoke. Unbreatheable smoke.

Terror poured through her veins as she realized the house must be on fire. She could hear flames crackling from some part of the house.

The children. She had to get to the children—

Scrambling out from under tangled sheets, she slid off the high mattress of her antique bedstead, her feet hitting warm pine. Screaming
“Fire!”
she ran for the open doorway, ducking to find the purest air near the floor. The bathroom night-light shed an eerie glare on the smoke, but she still couldn’t see flames.

Prayer mingling with terror, she stumbled into Danilo’s room. Yelling his name, she ran to open the window, then snatched her little boy out of his bed. He lay limp in her arms as she leaned out the window and laid him on the ground.
Oh, God wake him up, let him breathe….

No time to linger. Leaving her precious baby, she crouched back inside the room, where every breath was agony.

Down the hall one more door, her ears roaring and her head beginning to spin. Thank God Mercedes liked the door shut, because it had kept much of the smoke out of the room. In the darkness she found the child’s bed, but couldn’t wake her. By now Isabel’s knees were jelly; she called on her last measure of strength to pick up Mercedes and carry her to the window.

She’d forgotten to open the window first. Bursting into fresh tears, she laid her burden on the floor, then scorched her hand on the lock. She groaned in frustration, caught the hem of her pajama top, and used it to protect her palm as she wrenched open the lock.

After a couple of heaves, she shoved the window up, leaned outside to snatch a quick breath, then lifted Mercedes. Climbing over the windowsill, she slid to the ground and hit her knees.

Air. Fresh, blessed smokeless air.

Thank You, Jesus.

Carrying Mercedes, who lolled like a rag doll in her arms, she struggled through the hedge around the house. She heedlessly trampled the petunias she’d worked so hard to cultivate, hurrying around the corner of the house to reach Danilo’s room. There he lay, sprawled in his blue-and-red pajamas, right where she’d left him. Terror froze her brain.

What if she hadn’t gotten him and Mercedes out in time?

Suddenly Mercedes jerked and coughed.

“It’s okay, baby,” Isabel choked out, hugging the little girl. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Without letting go of Mercedes, she knelt beside her son’s inert figure.

Then, slamming against the fear, came rage in a white-hot surge.

“You’re not taking him, too!” she screamed, her seared throat aching with blinding pain. Bending over Mercedes’s clinging form, Isabel put her mouth to Danilo’s, pinching his small nostrils. Rico had made her go through a CPR class a few years ago. She hadn’t wanted to, she’d had other things to do that weekend, but oh, how she praised God for her stubborn husband now.

Breathe, Nilo. Please, Lord, let him breathe.

She sat up a little, put her cheek to her son’s mouth, and felt nothing. Controlling sobs, she breathed into his mouth again.
Puff, puff, puff.
Wait.
Puff puff puff.

This time when she sat up, she felt Mercedes turn in her arms. Flinging herself across Danilo’s chest, the little girl began to sob in hard, racking spasms.

Isabel was on the point of joining her, when Danilo suddenly heaved, coughed and sucked in air.

Mercedes lit up when she saw Danilo waking and moved off of him, while Isabel grabbed her son into a hug. “Thank You, Lord, oh, thank You!” Over and over she breathed the words, rocking and rejoicing.

She couldn’t have said how long she sat there before the burning house registered on her consciousness. Flames had begun to lick toward the roof, pouring out the dormer windows and from the living room onto the porch.

Danilo shoved at Isabel’s chest. “Fonzie!” he shrieked, then collapsed in a paroxysm of coughing. “Where’s Fonzie?”

“I’m sure he got away, sweetie.” She didn’t know any such thing, but she wasn’t about to go back in that house where the windows were beginning to explode from heat buildup. Isabel got to her feet, holding on to Danilo to keep him from running toward the porch where the dog slept.

The obvious thing to do was to call 911, but she’d left her cell phone in the house. She had no idea what time it was; the sky was a pitch-black blanket, hovering over the smoke and flames devouring her house. The neighborhood slept, oblivious to her distress.

She wavered. Eli lived in an apartment complex a couple of blocks over. The fact that he wasn’t in his Jeep parked on the street meant he was working. She would call him, of course, after she got hold of the fire department.

She had to get to a phone.

Grabbing Mercedes’s hand, she tugged both children toward old Mr. and Mrs. Peterson’s tiny bungalow across the street.

Mrs. Peterson, wearing a woebegone black satin kimono and yellow hair curlers, opened her front door and gaped at Isabel. “What’s the matter, dearie?” Then she saw the flames engulfing Isabel’s house. “Oh, my!”

Isabel hiccupped. “911—”

“I’ll get the phone. Come in.” The old lady moved aside to admit Isabel and the children, yelling down the hall, “Howard! Howard, get out here!”

As it turned out, there was little anybody could do, including the Del Rio Fire Department. By the time they arrived, along with the paramedics, the house was a lost cause. Two years ago, Rico had signed on the dotted line, promising Isabel he would turn their property into a showplace worthy of
Better Homes and Gardens.
Now it smoldered in the pre-dawn half-light, a pile of wet, blackened siding, collapsed roofing and shattered glass.

Isabel took one last look at the house as the ambulance screamed away toward the hospital. She sat in the front with the driver, while Danilo and Mercedes lay strapped to gurneys in the back. Her pleas to ride with them had been gently denied. Both children, the lead EMT had assured her, would be fine now that they were on oxygen.

“Tough break,” said the driver, a woman, sympathetically. “Husband out of town?”

“No, he’s—I’m a single parent,” Isabel replied. “I can’t believe the smoke alarm didn’t go off. I changed the battery just a couple of weeks ago.”

“Stuff malfunctions all the time.” The driver shrugged. “You’ll get a report from the fire marshal, giving you their best guess as to what caused the fire.”

Isabel sighed. “At this point I’m just worried about the children.” Unbidden tears stung her eyes. She could have lost them both.
Oh, God, what would I do without my babies?
A house could be replaced.

Well, at least I don’t have to worry about selling it now, she thought with black humor.

The EMT seemed to have read her mind. “Have you got a place to stay?”

“Well…maybe my neighbors across the street.” Mrs. Peterson had offered, but Isabel hadn’t committed herself. The Petersons’ house was even tinier than her own.

She could drive up to stay with her parents in San Antonio. But there was Mercedes to think of. She’d have to ask Eli what would be best. She’d give anything to lean on him right now.

Which brought to mind the way she’d kissed him yesterday. Unconscionable to encourage a man with whom she had no intention of developing a relationship. She couldn’t risk falling in love with another Border Patrol agent. And Eli Carmichael was defined in every way by his job.

Isabel gave the ambulance driver a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. I can’t think straight right now.”

“We’ll be at the hospital in less than a minute,” said the driver. “I’ll shut up and leave you alone.”

Isabel nodded. She was in desperate need of prayer.

Eli was reading the paper at his mother’s breakfast table when his cell phone rang. It was early, only 5:00 a.m., but he had to be at work at six o’clock. Not recognizing the number on the screen, he flipped the phone open. “Carmichael.”

“Eli, it’s Isabel.” Her voice was so hoarse he hardly recognized her.

“Isabel! What’s the matter?” She rarely called him, and never this early in the morning.

“I hate to bother you, but I need you to come over to the hospital. There’s a problem with—” She huffed a quick breath. “Didn’t you hear the fire trucks last night?”

His heartbeat crashed in his ears. “I spent the night at my mom’s place.” He knew he should have been watching Isabel’s house, but her skittish response to their kiss had left him feeling restless. He’d gone over to the ranch to work the horses. “What fire trucks?”

“Eli, my house burned down last night.”

“What?”
Eli jerked to his feet. His mother, at the stove flipping an omelet, gave him a startled look. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the ER.” Her voice wobbled. “We got out before the flames got to the bedrooms, so nobody’s burned. But both children are pretty sick from smoke inhalation. I’m okay, just coughing and hoarse…”

Eli closed his eyes.
Lord, thank You they’re safe
. “Listen, I’m coming to you. No, I n-need to go by your house and s-see—” He stopped, realizing he was stuttering. His mother had turned off the stove and walked over to put a hand on his arm. “Listen to me, Isabel. Don’t call anybody else. Don’t answer any questions. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Okay. Bye.” Shesounded small and tired. “I’m sorry, Eli.”

“Isabel—” But she’d ended the call, so he slapped the phone shut and clipped it to his belt. He was no longer hungry.

He’d
told
her she needed a new fire alarm battery. She should have moved out of that old house a long time ago, sold or not. No way a single woman could keep up with all the maintenance by herself.

Furious, and frustrated that he had nobody to be furious with, he jerked out from under his mother’s hand and looked for his keys.

“Eli, what’s wrong? Was that Isabel Valenzuela?”

“Yes.” He had no desire to explain his relationship with Isabel. “Mom, I’ve got to go. Thanks for breakfast.”

“But you didn’t eat anything!”

“I know.” He hesitated. “Isabel’s house burned down last night. She’s at the hospital with the—” He’d almost said “children.” He regrouped. “Her son’s in bad shape. I need to check on them.”

Hands on either side of his face, she held him. “Tell her I’m praying for her,” she said softly. “If she needs a place to stay, she can come here.”

Eli looked away. His mother had a tender heart, but he couldn’t thrust upon her the widow of the man his father had murdered—not like this, anyway, with Mercedes involved.

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” He grabbed his hat from the rack beside the back door. “I’ll let you know.”

Isabel had occupied this particular chair in the Val Verde Regional Medical Center ER so many times she was contemplating hanging a plaque above it: The Surrounding Six Square Feet Paid for by the Medical Insurance of Isabel Valenzuela.

She got up to check on Danilo, who lay sound asleep under an oxygen mask, and wished for the umpteenth time she could go home.

But there was no home to go to.

She had called her parents, who were, naturally enough, horrified to hear about the fire. Mom had wanted to come south immediately to pick her and Danilo up, and take them back to San Antonio. It took fifteen minutes to convince her mother she’d be perfectly fine in a hotel room, that she needed to stay here in Del Rio to handle the medical bills and insurance claims and all the other uncertainties that had fallen on her shoulders overnight. She didn’t want to think about moving right now.

In fact, Isabel wasn’t so sure she wanted to move to San Antonio at all.

Eli needed her. Scratch that—
Mercedes
needed her.

Mercedes lay asleep in the treatment room on the other side of the curtain, and Isabel had worn herself out running back and forth between the two children. Scooting her chair close to the bed, she laid her head down on the sheet next to Danilo’s hip.

Let me just close my eyes for a minute….

Sometime later, she felt a light touch on her shoulder. “Isabel? I’m sorry to wake you, but the nurse says the little girl wants you.”

Isabel sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Pam! What are you doing here?” Groggily she pulled together the lapels of Howard Peterson’s plaid bathrobe, which she’d borrowed to cover her nightgown.

Pam set her handbag on a sink cluttered with medical paraphernalia. “Gracie Peterson called and told me about your house. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry—” She pulled Isabel into a hug. “I want you to come stay with me while you figure out what to do.”

Isabel stood stiffly, trying to decide how much to say. Eli would be here any minute, and there was Mercedes on the other side of the curtain. Pam wasn’t supposed to know about Mercedes—

Isabel pulled away from her friend’s embrace. “Wait here for just a second, okay? Keep an eye on Danilo for me.” When Pam nodded, Isabel stepped around the curtain.

Mercedes lay wide-eyed under the bright florescent light, looking small and fragile. Isabel smiled and laid a hand on the pain-puckered brow, smoothing wisps of hair that had escaped from the long black braids.

How do you feel?
Isabel signed. At least she thought that was what she signed.

Mercedes tried for a smile, but touched her throat. Her eyes teared up.

Isabel wanted to take the little girl’s pain on herself. The best she could do was lean down and lay her cheek against Mercedes’s. She felt the child relax.

“Jesus, ease her pain and help her sleep,” Isabel whispered.

“Mrs. Valenzuela?”

Isabel turned her head to find the ER nurse in the doorway. “Yes?”

“The doctor wants to admit all three of you for the rest of the day, to make sure oxygen perfusion goes back to normal. He may keep you through the night. The children have breathed in enormous amounts of carbon monoxide.” The nurse paused, an awkward expression on her round face. “Have you been able to confirm that insurance information we asked for on the little girl? And we’ve got to locate her previous medical history somehow.”