Manuel’s feast consisted of a limited variety of dishes supplemented by containers of food from the ladies of the community. Jack and Raylyn visited the tables and piled plates high with every delectable treat.
Alfonzo sat off to the side, and Jack and Raylyn joined him. “Thank you for sitting with me. I have felt ostracized since the incident. Everyone has stayed away like I’m catching.”
Raylyn patted his hand. “I’m sure that isn’t the reason.”
“You are? Have you been here long enough to know the way my countrymen think?”
She scooted in her chair and fought her hurt reaction.
“I did not think so. Already they blame you and Jack as the culprits behind our latest distresses.”
“What?” asked Jack pausing, the spoon halfway to his lips.
“You think I do not hear talk just because I’m secluded in my rooms? Then you are mistaken. I hear things from the workers, from the patients that refuse to see anyone but me, even though I’m laid up with an injury.”
“They’ve been coming here to see you?” asked Raylyn with a shocked expression.
“But of course, they have. But you are missing the point. The violence is escalating in our area, and the only thing new is the missionaries who now live among us.”
Raylyn fiddled with her silverware.
“Do you know something about this, Raylyn?” asked Alfonzo.
Her nod was barely perceptible.
“Then you should share it with us,” Alfonzo added. “I will be unable to stem the effects if I do not know the root cause.”
Raylyn breathed a heavy sigh and proceeded to explain what she’d overheard in the courtyard only moments before. Jack kept his vision rooted to the tabletop, pretending not to care that she’d hidden the information from him, but was perfectly willing to share the story with Alfonzo.
Finished explaining, Alfonzo patted her hand. “You should not concern yourself. The man you speak of constantly stirs the pot. I’m certain most in the ghetto know this, and will not take him too seriously.”
“But it only takes a few bad apples,” said Jack.
“Agreed, a few bad apples will ruin the entire pie. I will speak with Manuel. He will feel out the people. If it becomes too dangerous, then we will contact the mission board.”
Jack bristled at running from a fight, but this fight belonged to the Christians of Chiapas, and if they didn’t want assistance, then he shouldn’t force it upon them.
The food finished, tables were scooted out of the way, creating a simulated dance floor. Men in sombreros and black velvet garb carried guitars and other stringed instruments into the courtyard. They struck a tune. Women in colorful flowing skirts arrived from a side entrance. In their hands, they carried a type of instrument that they held above their heads as they circled and flipped the edges of their skirts. The crowd clapped.
Raylyn tapped her foot and moved her shoulders to the music. A male guest offered his hand. They did a fancy step around the makeshift dance floor. Raylyn flung her neck back, her brown hair swaying as she laughed. Her lips twitched as she tried to keep up with her companion’s fancy footwork.
A woman approached. Jack hesitated to take her hand, but she snatched it from his lap and drew him to the floor regardless of his protests.
Alfonzo yelled, “Go! You will have fun.”
Jack heaved a sigh and stumbled onto the dance floor. The music sported a fast beat, and he struggled to keep up. Sweat beaded on his brow as he concentrated.
Partners switched, and soon he faced Raylyn. The dance changed, and couples clasped each other. Raylyn moved forward and placed one of her hands in his and the other on his side, while his hand rested on her hip. The tempo accelerated, and the movement of her hips increased.
The song changed again, but instead of continuing, they returned to their seats. Out of breath, Jack dropped into his chair.
Alfonzo clapped and smiled. “Amazing! It was as if you two have studied in a dance school.” He leaned forward and whispered, “You have not, right?”
Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not. I was just following my remarkable partner.”
Raylyn blushed, and Jack covered her hand resting on the table. “You must promise to give me lessons.”
“It would be my pleasure,” she said, looking him in the eyes.
Alfonzo cleared his throat, and Raylyn’s face flamed a brighter red.
Jack leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”
“I-I think I need to go inside for a moment.”
“Of course,” said Alfonzo, his eyes averted from their shared affection. Raylyn scurried away, and Alfonzo said, “You have embarrassed the chiquita.”
“I love her,” said Jack, studying her retreating form as it entered Alfonzo’s home.
“I thought so. You have made a wise choice. She is a rare flower, but I see that she blooms for you. But take heed, she will not be easy to open all her petals.”
Jack cocked a brow.
“Do not misread me. I mean, Raylyn will not easily give her entire heart. I feel she has been hurt before. Take your steps light. Give her time to know you, learn your ways. I feel you will know when the time is right.”
“Thank you, Alfonzo.”
“De nada.”
****
Raylyn shuffled past guests lingering in the hallway and hiding behind corners. When she reached the bathroom, she entered and locked the door. Laying her head against the cool wooden panel, she drew in several deep breaths.
What was she doing? She’d let herself get this close once before, to the same guy, and it had turned out poorly. She’d found out he had a girlfriend and that he still loved her. This had left her with nothing but heartache, and she wasn’t willing to experience that feeling again.
Sunlight filtered into the room and disseminated. Raylyn studied her reflection in the mirror. Lip gloss applied and hair combed, Raylyn took a seat on the tub’s edge. Elbow on her thigh, she palmed her chin and closed her eyes.
A prayer left her lips.
God grant me the wisdom to pursue this relationship only if it be in Your desired will. Give me the strength to let him go if the need arises, or the strength to love him if You allow.
The door vibrated with a knock and scared her until she fell off the tub’s edge and landed on the tiled floor.
“Ow!”
The knocking continued until she ripped the door open. “Yes?”
“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
She narrowed her eyes as she walked past a middle-aged man. In the courtyard, she headed for Alfonzo’s table, but Juan waylaid her.
“Hola, Raylyn.”
“Hello, señor Guerrero.”
“I see we are still on formal terms.”
“I think it is for the best.”
“Why is this so? I believe if you would allow me, we could be on much more personal terms.”
“There’s no need.”
“Ah, the lady doesn’t wish to encourage my interest.”
“You’re correct. As you will only be here for a short time, I see no reason to become overly friendly.”
“This is an unexpected attitude from one such as yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“From a missionary, of course. Are you not to get along with everyone so as to promote the love of Christ?”
Raylyn swallowed.
“I see I have hit a nerve.” She didn’t reply, and he continued, “In every role in life, someone is watching us to see how we react. When we announce we are a parent, we are watched to see if we are good with our children. If we say we are a teacher, we are watched to see if our skills meet the state standards, and when we say we are Christians, then the entire world watches.”
“Señor Guerrero, I want to apologize for my—”
“Behavior? Of course you do. Now that I have called you down, you want to apologize to make yourself feel better. While I agree to accept your apology, not all will feel this way.” He sidled away, adding the parting words, “Remember this.”
Raylyn didn’t move. Jack stepped in front of her, a frown drawing his brows downward.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
****
Jack followed Juan with his gaze. Raylyn resumed her seat. Head bowed, she had a quiet conversation with Alfonzo. As he drew near, their voices halted. Taking the hint, he backed away and searched for Manuel.
The man was inside, elbow-deep in soapy water. Congregated around a dining room table, Maria and several other ladies twittered and chatted.
“The party was a success.”
“Si, a raving success.”
“Perhaps Manuel should organize the ghetto’s festivities for the Amber Expo.”
Manuel guffawed, and Jack felt instant sorrow for him.
“I will not.”
Maria whispered behind her hand, “Never fear, mi amigos, he will do as I say.”
Jack grunted, and the group of ladies faced him. “May I speak with Manuel?”
“There he is, speak.” Maria raised her brow, and her head wobbled.
Manuel shook his head and dried his hands. “Come, señor Williams. We will exit this coop.”
Maria’s voice followed them. “You shouldn’t call us hens, Manuel.”
Manuel ignored her haranguing. He guided them through the office to a room at the front of the house. The door closed, and they sat opposite each other.
“I should thank you for the rescue. Maybe while I’m away, they will clean!”
Jack fought a grin. “I need to speak with you about a serious matter.”
“Oh no. You’re ready to leave! I have worked you too hard. I knew you wouldn’t stay. Alfonzo tells me to go easier on my assistants, but the work is great, and the workers are few. I’m sorry—”
Jack interrupted his tirade. “I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not?”
“Not yet, anyway. My concerns are of a different nature.”
“Yes?”
“It involves Juan Guerrero.”
Manuel turned his head and spit.
“I see you agree. My dilemma is I believe he is someone other than he appears to be.”
Manuel slapped his thighs. “I tell Alfonzo this, but he doesn’t listen. How do you see this?”
Jack described their journey from the shore and how mentioning Juan’s name opened roadblocks.
Manuel tapped his chin. “Alfonzo said Juan was once a doctor for the military. Perhaps this is why.”
“I don’t know. It seemed like there was something more. Do you have any suggestions?”
“For?”
“For learning the truth? For protecting ourselves and those who live in the ghetto?”
“We will be vigilant.”
Jack wasn’t happy but agreed to the course of action. For now.