“Joe. Joe, it’s all right. You can come out.”
Linc started at a sound on his left. The thick foliage moved, then parted. Several pairs of coffee-colored eyes stared at him from behind fronds as wide as parasols. A tall, slender youth materialized from behind the leafy, green screen.
The boy, whose age Linc placed at around fourteen, had a brooding face that appeared years older than his gangly body. He regarded Linc with a mixture of open hostility and suspicion.
“This is Linc O’Neal,” Kerry told the boy. “He’s the one I picked to help us. Linc, this is Joe, the oldest of the group.”
Linc glanced at her quickly, wondering if she realized that she had used his first name. She didn’t appear to. He stuck out his hand toward the boy. “Hello, Joe.”
Joe ignored Linc’s hand and abruptly turned his back. In soft, rapid Spanish, he called the children out of hiding. In pairs and singly, they emerged from their cover. One of the oldest girls was carrying a toddler on her hip. She walked directly to Kerry and handed the child over to her.
The little girl wrapped her arms trustingly and lovingly around Kerry’s neck. She kissed the child’s grubby cheek and smoothed back her hair.
The other children surrounded her. It seemed that each had something vital to impart. They competed for her attention, though she spread it around as diplomatically as a candidate running for public office.
Linc knew only enough Spanish to keep himself fed and from walking into the wrong restroom. The children were chattering so excitedly that he couldn’t follow what they were saying to Kerry. Only one word, repeated frequently, registered with him.
“Hermana?” he said.
“Sister,” Kerry told him absently as she gave the child’s cheek a spit bath with her fingers.
“Why do they call you—”
Linc’s question was never completed. When realization struck him, his face went completely blank. If he’d been poleaxed, he couldn’t have looked more stunned.
Laughing at one of the children’s disjointed stories, Kerry glanced up at him and asked distractedly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked why they were calling you sister.”
“Oh, I—”
She looked at him then, saw his sick expression and realized the conclusion he had jumped to. He thought Sister Kerry had a religious significance. A speedy denial was on the tip of her tongue, but in a split second, she reconsidered. Why deny what he was obviously thinking? He had accidentally provided her with a way to spurn his sexual advances without jeopardizing his loyalty to their mission.
She searched her mind for a reason why she should set him right, but could find none. She also scratched the surface of her conscience, but didn’t delve too deeply. She was doing this for the welfare of the orphans.
Before her conscience had time to rear up and question her motives, Kerry lowered her eyes demurely. “Why else?”
He called upon a deity, but not in prayer.
Kerry reacted with stern disapproval. “Watch your language, please.” When he mumbled an apology, she knew her ruse had worked. It took all her acting ability to keep from laughing out loud. “Would you like to meet the children?”
“Are they all as friendly as Joe?” Linc asked.
“I speak English,” the boy snapped with fierce pride.
Linc, unruffled by his faux pas, snapped right back, “Then your manners aren’t worth a damn.”
Kerry intervened quickly. “Joe, would you please stir up the fire? We’ll feed the children before we go.” Joe cast Linc a resentful glance before carrying out the chore Kerry had assigned him. “Children,” Kerry said in Spanish and motioned for quiet, “this is Señor O’Neal.”
“Make it Linc,” he told her.
She told the children his first name. Eight pairs of eyes stared up at him with curiosity tempered by caution. One by one she introduced him to them. “And the youngest’s name is Lisa.”
He acknowledged each introduction solemnly, shaking hands with the boys and bowing stiffly at the waist for the girls, who giggled in response. He playfully tapped Lisa on the nose, being careful not to touch Kerry in the process.
He told them hello in Spanish, which just about exhausted his vocabulary. “Tell them that I’ll take care of them on the journey.” He spoke slowly so Kerry could simultaneously translate. “But they must obey me...at all times.” He gave her a look that said, “That includes you,” before he continued. “When I tell them to be quiet...they must be quiet...silent.... No moving...no wandering away from the group ...ever.... If they do as I say...we’ll get to the airplane...and it will take us to the United States.”
The children’s faces glowed radiantly when they heard the last two words.