As discreetly
as possible, Linc took pictures of the heart-wrenching scene. The most poignant photograph he got was one of Kerry Bishop, the person who had made this miracle possible. He knew it would be a good photograph. The reflected sunlight had made diamonds of the tears standing in her eyes.
Kerry descended the staircase with inexplicable nervousness. Perhaps it was because she was wearing a dress for the first time in ages. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had worn a dress the night she had abducted Linc from the bar, but that wasn’t quite the same.
Maybe her heart was pounding because this was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair clean, soft and glowing, her skin smooth and free of grime and her nails buffed to a polished shine.
For whatever reason, her knees threatened to collapse with each step she took.
It seemed that a lifetime had passed since their narrow escape from Monterico. Yet it had happened only that morning. The day had been spent getting the children settled into their temporary quarters. They had marveled over the “luxuries” they had found in the mobile homes. They had all been given clean bills of health by the nurses. Months ago, when the idea of their being adopted in the United States was first conceived, Kerry had seen to it that each child was vaccinated in accordance with U.S. regulations.
With the aid of the Flemings and Cage’s parents, Bob and Sarah Hendren, all the children had been soaped and scrubbed and shampooed and outfitted in spanking new clothes donated by a La Bota merchant. Thanks to members of Bob Hendren’s congregation, there was enough food in the kitchen to make the tables and countertops groan. The children had already eaten two full meals.
Roxie couldn’t keep her hands off her adopted daughters and had brushed their hair so many times that Gary, almost as guilty of overindulgence as his wife, had warned her that she was going to brush them bald if she wasn’t careful. Kerry only hoped that the rapport between all the children and their new families was established as easily.
At her request, Cage had driven Kerry to the hospital. The staff, carefully guarding her privacy, had let her slip in a back entrance to visit Joe. The surgery to remove the bullet from his thigh had been completed. He was groggy from the anesthetic, but he recognized her. The doctor assured her that his leg hadn’t suffered any permanent damage.
When Kerry returned, Jenny had insisted that she spoil herself with a long bubble bath. Without a trace of reluctance, Kerry had stripped off the vile clothes she had lived in for almost four days.
Only when she untied the bandana from around her neck did her fingers falter. Since Linc had given it to her, she regretted having to remove it. She laundered the handkerchief in the bathroom sink and hung it up to dry. Unless he asked for it back, she intended to keep it as a memento of her one wild, brief, unconsummated, but no less ardent, love affair.
Now, voices drifted to her from the dining room. Her stomach was queasy with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Bolstering her courage, she stepped through the arched doorway into a mellow pool of candlelight and hesitated on the threshold. Jenny was the first to spot her.
“There you are.”
“Wow!” Cage whistled appreciatively. “A little soap and water can do wonders.”
Linc said nothing. He was caught in the act of lifting a can of beer to his mouth. It stayed poised there in midair for several counts, before he actually drank from it. Kerry went in and took a chair across the table from him.
“This is so nice of you, Jenny.” She gazed in awe at the flower centerpiece, the bright, sterling candlesticks, the china and crystal and silver.
“I thought the two of you deserved a quiet, leisurely dinner. Lunch was rather hectic. Relax and enjoy yourselves. The report from the trailers is that the children are asleep.”
“I just hope I don’t disgrace myself,” Kerry said, running her fingers over the handle of her salad fork. “I’ve lived in the jungle for so long, I hardly remember how to use silverware properly.”
“It will all come back to you,” Jenny said with a gentle smile. “And if it doesn’t, we won’t mind.” Cage passed her a plate filled with food. “We’re used to eating with Trent. His table manners are atrocious.”
“Cute kid,” Linc commented. “He made the others feel right at home.”
“Yeah,” Cage said. “He taught them by example how to attack a bowl of homemade ice cream.”
Laughing, Kerry asked, “Where is he?”
“Blissfully asleep,” his mother said wearily. “Eat quietly.”
Kerry was surprised at how rich and deep Linc’s laughter could be when it wasn’t tinged with cynicism. It rolled over her like a wave. Apparently Cage, who was of the same broad-shouldered, slim-hipped build, had lent him a pair of jeans and a shirt. He had showered, and his hair, though it could still stand a trim, had been washed and brushed back. His face had been closely shaved. Without the stubble, his jaw looked even more unrelievedly masculine than before, which was a disquieting thought. She detected the faint outline of a white bandage beneath his shirt.
While they ate, their conversation centered mainly on the orphans. “I distributed copies of your press release to the disgruntled reporters.”
“Thank you, Cage.”
“We’ll tell you about the applicants for adoptions, but tomorrow is soon enough for that.”
“Thank you again. I’m so tired, I don’t think I could assimilate anything tonight,” Kerry admitted. “I’m sure you screened the couples carefully. Are all of them as wonderful as the Flemings?”
“Gary and Roxie are special friends, so we’re biased. But we think the others will be super parents, too.”
After a pause in the conversation, Jenny smiled at Linc and said, “I never guessed that I’d be so honored as to have a celebrity at my table.”