“What’s going on?” he asked, and I told him what she had confided in me.
“So, she had you believing she was telling you a big family secret, is that it?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t say any more until we had put my suitcases in the trunk of my car.
“Now, let me tell you something about the Cordovas that’s not such a big family secret. Her father has had a mistress for years and years. Everyone knows it. She knows it. She made all that up about his being gay,” he said. He looked up at her apartment window. “Maybe not just to get your sympathy. Maybe it was how she could live with it.” He shook his head. “This whole world is one big soap opera. Let’s get out of here, Delia. While we still can.”
He drove, and I sat shivering with my thoughts, feeling like someone who had just come through an icy rainstorm but was not heading toward sunshine. There was quite a bit more thunder and lightning looming ahead. Sunshine was still a distant dream.
We fell into heavy traffic as we started back toward Palm Springs. It was stop-and-go for miles and miles. Finally, Edward decided we should pull off to have some dinner and wait it out.
“We don’t want to get there too soon, anyway,” he said. “There’s no point in rushing.”
I was too nervous to have any sort of appetite, but I ate to pass the time. He could see how tense I was and reached across the table to put his hand on mine.
“It’s going to be all right, Delia. We can do this. Besides, there is clearly no other way,” he stressed.
I smiled. At least, I would pretend to be brave.
Afterward, the traffic did lighten up. We made better time and went directly to his home. Of course, Tía Isabela was still in Los Angeles. He gathered up what he said we would need. He had black clothing for me to wear. I rolled up the bottoms of the pants and tightened the belt around my waist. He decided we should put black shoe polish on our faces.
“After all,” he told me, “we’re going behind enemy lines.”
Later, in the wee hours of the morning, we drove to the Indian Canyons, parked my car where it would be unnoticeable, and began our trek through the canyon, where I had explained we could approach Señor Bovio’s estate and enter undetected. As we walked over the desert floor, we heard the coyotes moving and howling in packs just to our right. The stars were so bright in the dry desert atmosphere, the terrain so stark, only sparsely peppered here and there with cactus or brush, that it was truly like walking on the moon.
I couldn’t help but be reminded of my flight with Ignacio through the desert into Mexico. The terrain was just as barren but far more dangerous because of bandits and the border patrol. Our walk now was also miles and miles shorter, although it was no walk in the park. Edward estimated it was close to two miles. I thought we could do this to reach the estate, but to come back in flight and with an infant might be significantly more difficult.
It took us almost an hour and a half to reach the point where we could see the Bovio estate ahead of us. The walking was not easy because of the rocks and small hills. We had stopped four times to drink some water and rest. Both of us were keenly aware of the danger we’d face if we disturbed a rattlesnake, too.
And after all, the most difficult part lay ahead. We couldn’t afford to be tired or careless. Now that I could see the hacienda, I had real doubts that we could succeed. It looked too formidable.
“We won’t be able to do this,” I said. “I don’t know why I even suggested it. I was simply fantasizing, Edward.”
“Sure, we will be able to do it. You’ve got to think positive, Delia. Remember, I once asked you if there was anything you wouldn’t do, and you said no.”
“I know, but…”
“We can do it,” Edward insisted. He squeezed my hand gently. “We can.”
I took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay, Edward.”
We walked on.
As we approached the eastern boundary of the property, I saw that there was a light on in the small trailer in which Gerry Sommer lived. It was right near the stable. From the way the light and shadows played on the window, we could see that he was watching television. I had told Edward who he was and what duties he performed for Señor Bovio.
“That guy either stays up late or fell asleep in front of his television,” Edward whispered.
We moved as quietly as we could, but Amigo either heard or sensed me. I heard him neigh, and then I heard the sound of his hooves against the walls of his stall in the barn. We both froze.
Then a large beam of light fell over us. I gasped and turned to see
Gerry Sommer standing there with his large flashlight.
“Delia?” he asked. “Is that you?”