Honor Bound (Honor Bound 1)

“Excuse me?”

I don’t think she will understand what I have to tell her. Thank God Humberto is here.

“There has been a radio message, Beatrice. Do you remember Juan Domingo Perón? El Coronel Juan Domingo Perón?”

She considered that a full fifteen seconds before shaking her head no. There was confusion all over her face.

“He and I were lieutenants together. And then we were at the Command College. He’s in Germany, studying welfare and retirement, and social services for the poor.”

Beatrice laughed brightly.

“Whatever are you talking about, Jorge?”

“It appears that the Germans are arranging to send Jorge home, Beatrice,” Frade said. “Perón was called to the Foreign Ministry and introduced to—actually, he was asked to approve of—the German officer who will escort the remains.”

“The Germans are sending Jorge home?” Beatrice asked.

“Odd, that you were told and not me,” Humberto said.

Frade was genuinely fond of his brother-in-law—despite his penchant for taking offense when none was intended. He was annoyed with him now, but kept that from his voice when he replied.

“I’m sure there will be a formal notification. Probably by the German ambassador. But Perón knew Jorge was my nephew, and he sent unofficial word to me through our military attaché. By radio. The mail service is nonexistent these days. Rather than telephoning, someone from the Defense Ministry took it all the way out to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. As soon as I received it, I brought it here.”

“When are they sending Jorge home?” Beatrice asked.

“I don’t know that yet, Bea,” Frade said gently. “I’m sure as soon as the details are known, you will be informed.”

“We can have a mass, a high requiem mass, at Our Lady of Pilar,” Beatrice said. “I’ll have to tell the Bishop.”

“There will be time for that, mi amor,” Humberto said.

“And Jorge, there are still those lovely cedar caskets at San Pedro y San Pablo? Aren’t there?”

Years and years before, their father somehow came onto a stock of cedar. He had a cabinet maker at the estancia turn it into caskets. It was not, Frade thought, the only odd thing the old man did after he turned sixty. But at least half a dozen cedar caskets remained stored in the rafters of the old carriage house. All that had to be done to them was to outfit the interior.

“Yes, there are,” Frade said.

“That will make it nice,” Beatrice said. “We will put Jorge in with the Duartes, but in a casket from Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo.”

God, she’s out of her mind. If she had had more than the one child, she would be far better off.

“Yes,” Frade agreed, “that would be nice.”

“I must talk to the Bishop and see what is involved,” Beatrice said.

“Beatrice, it’ll wait until tomorrow,” Humberto said.

“Nonsense,” she said. “I’ve known him since he went into the seminary. He’ll have time for me.”

She walked out of the room.

When he was sure she was out of earshot, Frade asked, “What is she taking?”

Humberto shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know. Something the doctor gives her.”

“She is not herself,” Frade said.