Sarita. I feel bad but I’m okay. Don’t worry,
it’s not like I’m going to die or something.”
He could have,
though. The sobering thought did what nothing else had, brought tears. As he
tottered to his feet, Sara slid an arm around his waist to steady him. The solid bulk of his flesh reassured her
irrational fears he could succumb into death, but when he wrapped his uninjured
arm around her, she broke. Tears she’d
squelched under pressure erupted and she turned her face against his
shoulder. She wept, her sobs muffled
against his t-shirt as he held her, murmuring words of comfort. “Don’t ,
la muñequita , don’t cry. I promise
I’ll heal. I may not feel so great today,
but I’ll be better. Por favor, querida .”
“I thought I
lost you once.” She sobbed in response. “I can’t stand to lose you again,
especially not forever.”
“ Callarse ,” he said. “Hush. You never
lost me, Sarita, you only thought you did. Te amo , Sara. I always did and I always will. Eres
el amor de mi vida .”
She sobbed harder. He was the love of her life too and would be forever. “I love you so
much, Santiago,” she said. “I never stopped thinking about you or wishing I’d
see you again. I never thought I would,
though.”
“If I’d know you wanted me, I would’ve come, no
matter what.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let me go piss now, although I’m
shakier than I thought. Go get me the
ibuprofen, the ice pack, and heat me some soup or something. I’ll make it to the couch without collapsing.”
Sara clung a moment more, unwilling to let go. “All
right,” she said and sniffed. “I’m still scared, though.”
“About me? I told you, I’ll be
fine.”
“I still worry,” she said, “And I’m frightened. I can tell we’re in terrible danger and I’m
so afraid we won’t make it.”
His voice dropped lower and his tone sobered. “I’ll
do all I can, la muñequita . We have
everything to live for, now.”
They did, if they could. And in the dilapidated old trailer in the
middle of remote woods in the Ozark Mountains, Sara had never loved him
more.
Chapter Six
Santiago sprawled on his right side, his long body
taking up most of the couch. His head
rested on a wedge pillow Sara hauled out of the bedroom. A cold pack for his tequila-induced headache,
a little sirloin burger soup in his stomach, and some pain relievers to ease
his hurts had done wonders, Sara thought. She found some Mannheim Steamroller CDs in the stack by the seldom used
stereo, ones she’d brought long ago. Once, she and Santiago had listened to the eclectic group, marveling at
the blend of classical tunes with modern instruments and nature sounds. She put Fresh Air VI into the player and let
the sounds of the sea combined with the lilt of music fill the room. A small smile teased his lips as she sat on
the floor beside the couch where he reclined.
The music flowed over her, peaceful and soothing to
her troubled spirits. How long has it been since I kicked back and
listened to Mannheim Steamroller or anything else? Sara had no idea. She gazed around the room and noted the
personal touches, most of them Erik’s and his brother’s leavings, a few
hers. Remembering what Santiago had said
at her apartment, how it lacked any sense of home, she couldn’t deny it. Maybe it was time to try to explain why.
“Santiago?”
His half-slit eyes opened. “ Si , Sara?”
“Do you still want to know why my apartment is so
bare and lacks personality?”
He rose up on his good elbow. “Of course I do. Why?”
She realized the truth had been difficult, but
sharing it with Santiago was even harder. “I didn’t really care,” she
said. “I’ve existed without living.”
“I understand that,” he said, voice gentle and soft. “But, why, la muñequita ?”
Sara struggled to find words to explain. “I blame
myself for
it’s not like I’m going to die or something.”
He could have,
though. The sobering thought did what nothing else had, brought tears. As he
tottered to his feet, Sara slid an arm around his waist to steady him. The solid bulk of his flesh reassured her
irrational fears he could succumb into death, but when he wrapped his uninjured
arm around her, she broke. Tears she’d
squelched under pressure erupted and she turned her face against his
shoulder. She wept, her sobs muffled
against his t-shirt as he held her, murmuring words of comfort. “Don’t ,
la muñequita , don’t cry. I promise
I’ll heal. I may not feel so great today,
but I’ll be better. Por favor, querida .”
“I thought I
lost you once.” She sobbed in response. “I can’t stand to lose you again,
especially not forever.”
“ Callarse ,” he said. “Hush. You never
lost me, Sarita, you only thought you did. Te amo , Sara. I always did and I always will. Eres
el amor de mi vida .”
She sobbed harder. He was the love of her life too and would be forever. “I love you so
much, Santiago,” she said. “I never stopped thinking about you or wishing I’d
see you again. I never thought I would,
though.”
“If I’d know you wanted me, I would’ve come, no
matter what.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let me go piss now, although I’m
shakier than I thought. Go get me the
ibuprofen, the ice pack, and heat me some soup or something. I’ll make it to the couch without collapsing.”
Sara clung a moment more, unwilling to let go. “All
right,” she said and sniffed. “I’m still scared, though.”
“About me? I told you, I’ll be
fine.”
“I still worry,” she said, “And I’m frightened. I can tell we’re in terrible danger and I’m
so afraid we won’t make it.”
His voice dropped lower and his tone sobered. “I’ll
do all I can, la muñequita . We have
everything to live for, now.”
They did, if they could. And in the dilapidated old trailer in the
middle of remote woods in the Ozark Mountains, Sara had never loved him
more.
Chapter Six
Santiago sprawled on his right side, his long body
taking up most of the couch. His head
rested on a wedge pillow Sara hauled out of the bedroom. A cold pack for his tequila-induced headache,
a little sirloin burger soup in his stomach, and some pain relievers to ease
his hurts had done wonders, Sara thought. She found some Mannheim Steamroller CDs in the stack by the seldom used
stereo, ones she’d brought long ago. Once, she and Santiago had listened to the eclectic group, marveling at
the blend of classical tunes with modern instruments and nature sounds. She put Fresh Air VI into the player and let
the sounds of the sea combined with the lilt of music fill the room. A small smile teased his lips as she sat on
the floor beside the couch where he reclined.
The music flowed over her, peaceful and soothing to
her troubled spirits. How long has it been since I kicked back and
listened to Mannheim Steamroller or anything else? Sara had no idea. She gazed around the room and noted the
personal touches, most of them Erik’s and his brother’s leavings, a few
hers. Remembering what Santiago had said
at her apartment, how it lacked any sense of home, she couldn’t deny it. Maybe it was time to try to explain why.
“Santiago?”
His half-slit eyes opened. “ Si , Sara?”
“Do you still want to know why my apartment is so
bare and lacks personality?”
He rose up on his good elbow. “Of course I do. Why?”
She realized the truth had been difficult, but
sharing it with Santiago was even harder. “I didn’t really care,” she
said. “I’ve existed without living.”
“I understand that,” he said, voice gentle and soft. “But, why, la muñequita ?”
Sara struggled to find words to explain. “I blame
myself for
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