BLAKE glanced at Moriah for the tenth time in as many minutes. She wasn’t sleeping, but staring pensively out of the car window.
“Are you all right?” he asked finally.
“I guess.” Her listless tone suggested otherwise. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah.” He wondered what was going on in that busy mind of hers. They’d stayed longer than they’d planned at the orphanage. Moriah’s gaze had been constantly drawn to Bonita, Henri’s younger sister, as if she was enthralled with the girl. He had to admit, she was a cutie.
He’d felt a strange, tightening sensation in the center of his chest when he’d seen Moriah seated on the floor between Henri and Bonita, laughing at the pictures they’d drawn. In that brief moment he’d seen Moriah’s future. With her dark hair and native American heritage, the two children could have easily been hers.
Adoption was an interesting concept. Hadn’t he been pretty much adopted by his aunt and uncle? What would have happened if he’d been sent to live with an aunt and uncle and their six kids? If he’d grown up with a household of cousins, would he have always felt like an outsider, as he had with Moriah’s rambunctious family? Or would he have grown into the concept of being one of the gang?
Not that he could change how he had been raised. It was too late for him to adjust now.
Wasn’t it?
He’d ended up spending some time with the kids alone, while Moriah had gone off to have a private conversation with Sister Rita. He’d had a strange sense of pride when Henri had showed him how he was progressing in his studies. And Bonita’s artwork had been truly amazing.
He’d never considered it before now, but kids were really the essence of hope. What would his future hold without them?
Was this hope exactly what Moriah saw when she thought about having a family?
When it had been time to leave the orphanage, Moriah had been reluctant to let Henri go. Moriah’s gaze was pensive, yet she didn’t talk about what she and Sister Rita had discussed.
All this time, he’d thought Moriah’s family were close because of some inherent tendency, a bond arising from the genes that had been passed down to her and her brothers and sisters from her parents.
But he got the distinct impression that Moriah felt just as close to Henri and Bonita, even without the bond of blood.
“Do you think Sister Rita will bring the children to the festival tomorrow?” Moriah asked.
“I think so.” Blake had liked the director of the orphanage immediately. She didn’t take any grief from the children, but ruled with grace and compassion. “I have a feeling it was the plan all along.”
“Good. I’d love to see Bonita and Henri again.” Her voice was full of longing.
Actually, he was surprised to admit he felt the same way. He didn’t quite understand why. He fell silent, aware their own time together in Peru was almost at an end. Just a couple of days and they’d be on a plane back to the United States.
Last year they’d spent their last evening in Peru together, dining and laughing with silliness, until George had found them to give them the message about Ryan’s death.
But then he’d hurt Moriah, just like Ryan had. And he could even admit he’d hurt himself by being with the wrong woman. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel of their borrowed car. He wished more than anything she’d been willing to take him the way he was, because he wanted nothing more than to whisk Moriah away to the privacy of his hotel room, where he could make sweet love to her all night long.
“You just passed the hotel,” Moriah observed.
“Damn.” He quickly circled the statue and headed back to the hotel. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” She hesitated. “I told Freda we’d leave the car here. She plans to pick it up after her shift at the hospital later tonight.”
“Sounds good. I’ll leave the key with the hotel manager.”
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for coming along with me. We’re not operating tomorrow, so maybe I’ll see you at the festival.”
Tomorrow seemed like a lifetime away, but he knew she was right. Besides, he had to head back to the hospital to see if George needed any help. He’d been gone long enough as it was.
“I’d like that,” he agreed.
“Great. See you later, then.” She ducked out of the car, and headed inside. He watched her as she greeted the hotel manager as warmly as if he were a long-lost friend, and a stunning realization hit him broadside.
He loved her. Had, in fact, loved her for years. And all the traits he loved about her were the same ones that would make her a perfect wife and mother.
He couldn’t bear the thought of Moriah becoming the heart and soul of some other man’s family.
Moriah couldn’t believe how the city had been transformed. Crowds of people laughed and shouted as they swarmed in the street. The brightly painted stucco houses were all decorated, either with flags or the bright ribbons woven through the wrought-iron fences. A spicy scent of fish intermingled with the tart papaya juice and the yeasty Peruvian beer added to the party atmosphere. The Trujillo Festival was in full swing.
Moriah eyed the beer, wondering if she’d dare to try some herself later on.
Children played games while doting parents watched. She’d gotten to the festival later than she’d planned and searched the crowds for Henri and Bonita.
She was surprised to find them with Blake. The three of them were in the middle of the children’s games, throwing balls in an effort to knock over three stacked bottles. There weren’t prizes to win, but with Blake’s encouragement the kids played with enthusiasm anyway. She shook her head in amazement—some games knew no boundaries.
When Henri saw her, he took Bonita’s hand and crossed over to meet her. “Hola, Moriah. We’ve been looking for you.”
“And now you found me.” She gave them each a quick hug. Then her eyes met Blake’s, an unspoken question in her eyes. “I had to work late, or I would have been here sooner. Seems like you had fun with Blake, though.”
“Can we stay late enough to see the band play?” Henri wanted to know.
“Probably not. Didn’t Sister Rita say her bus was leaving soon?” Blake reminded them.
Moriah nodded. “Yes, and you can see the band hasn’t quite started yet. Maybe you’ll have time to hear one song, but that might be all.” In fact, the stage was already set up, the musicians gathering and tuning their instruments. Apparently with the band came dancing.
“Aw, we wanted to watch the dancing.”
Moriah led them over to the closest street vendor. “Are you guys hungry? Thirsty?”
“Thirsty,” Bonita declared firmly.
Before she could do anything, Blake fetched juice for all of them. The four of them had just sat down to enjoy the treat when she noticed Sister Rita making her way toward her.
“I told the children to return to the bus at seven o’clock.” Her brows were pulled together in a mock frown. “But I can see they were too distracted to listen.”
“My fault, I guess,” Moriah apologized, glancing at her watch in dismay. “I didn’t get here until late, I was hoping to spend more time with them.”
“Henri, Bonita, you must return to the bus, all right?” Sister Rita directed.
“Goodbye, Blake. Goodbye, Moriah. Thanks for the juice.” Henri and Bonita gave her and Blake quick hugs.
Moriah could hardly stand to let them go. “You’re more than welcome. Now, don’t forget to write to me, all right? I’ll be looking forward to your letters.”
Both kids nodded earnestly. “We will.”
“Go on now, run along.” Sister Rita shooed them off. “I need to talk to Moriah for a moment.”
“Well, if you want to talk, I’ll just go along with the kids.” Blake graciously left the two women alone.
What had possessed Blake to spend the day with the kids? A change of heart? She was afraid to hope. Moriah waved until the kids were out of sight.
“I’ve been thinking about your question, Moriah,” Sister Rita said slowly. “I told you Americans were not normally allowed to adopt Peruvian children very easily.”
Moriah nodded. “Yes, I remember.” She’d been sorely disappointed with the news. Naively, she’d assumed orphan children from Peru would be easy for anyone to adopt.
“While it’s not easy, there are ways to appeal to our government. I would be willing to help, if you like.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes.” Sister Rita nodded and handed her a packet of papers. “Here is some information about our adoption process, light reading for your trip home. I’m hoping once you review all the requirements, you won’t be put off by the amount of time, energy and effort it will take for you to adopt Henri and Bonita.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Moriah grinned and tucked the packet of papers under her arm. “Thank you, Sister. I’ll be in touch, I promise.”
“I believe you will.” Sister Rita took Moriah’s hand in hers and clasped it warmly. “Yes, I do believe you will. Things will work out, if God means for them to be.”
Moriah wished she could truly believe the sentiment, especially with regard to Blake, but she held her tongue and watched the nun hustle away, herding the rest of the orphanage children toward the bus. Blake seemed to have disappeared, so she turned away.
She headed toward the hotel, intent on putting the adoption paperwork in a safe place. Moriah figured she should be thrilled with the news that adopting Henri and Bonita was a possibility. The decision felt right. She could picture them with her family so easily.
But there was still a gaping hole in her heart, because her family would never be complete without Blake.
She loved him. She’d fallen in love with him a year ago right here in sunny Peru. This was their last night together.
Tomorrow they would drive to Lima, get on a plane and fly home. Her time with Blake was almost over, this time for good. Unless she gave up the idea of having a family, and accepted Blake on his terms.
Indecision gnawed at her. She couldn’t imagine making such a sacrifice.
“Moriah?” Blake was glad he’d found her, having lost track of her after he’d ushered the kids to the bus. He’d been startled to find Moriah wearing the colorful skirt and nearly sheer gauzy blouse of the locals. She was dazzling, her hair softly waving about her shoulders, her white blouse emphasizing the olive tone of her skin. He crossed over to her, as if drawn by an invisible string.
“Hi, Blake.” Moriah smiled at him, then gestured toward the stage where the Marinera folk band began playing a sultry tempo, encouraging the festival crowd to dance. “There’s Rasha and Manuel, dancing on the stage. I bet Rasha’s mother is babysitting for them. Aren’t they wonderful?”
Blake immediately saw what had caught her attention. The women were wearing gauze blouses and bright skirts with gold bracelets lining their arms, and as they danced they enticed their male partners to join them. He recognized Rasha and Manuel in the center of the group.
Their hips moved in sexy rotations, promising unspoken pleasure. The two of them looked as if they were alone on the stage, unaware of anyone but each other. As much as they’d started a family with their new baby daughter, they were obviously a couple in love first and foremost. Blake felt the erotic beat of the music in his own pulse thundering in his ears.
“Rasha is so beautiful. I can’t believe she’s out there, just a couple of weeks after having a baby.”
Blake dragged his gaze back to her. “I think you’re beautiful, Moriah. Although tonight you look more Peruvian than American.”
Self-consciously, she lifted a portion of her skirt. “I couldn’t resist. The dress seems fitting for the evening.”
“Dance with me?” He grasped her hand and pulled her closer.
She hesitated, then willingly flowed into his arms. He buried his face in the lemony scent of her hair, moving slowly and enjoying the sultry beat even as he wished like hell they were someplace alone.
“Mmm. I didn’t realize you were such an incredible dancer,” Moriah whispered.
He wanted to share far more with her than simply dancing, but right now he was more than content to hold her in his arms, to feel the light swish of her skirt against his legs, the firm pressure of her breasts pressed against his chest. His heart swelled with longing.
How on earth could he manage to let her go?
Very simply, he couldn’t.
She pressed her mouth to the pulse in his neck and his thoughts fried in a spark of passion. He wanted her here and now, regardless of all the reasons he shouldn’t. Holding her tight, he angled his head until he could cover her mouth with his, teasing her lips apart and exploring deep.
They could have been the only two people on the entire dance floor for all he cared. He took his time, kissing her thoroughly, until she weakly clung to him, pressing urgently against him, silently asking for more.
He tore his mouth from hers, gasping for breath. “Moriah, please, let me take you back to my room.”
“Yes.” Her simple answer only fueled a new spurt of desire.
Easing away, he scanned the crowd, seeking the path of least resistance, the shortest distance to their hotel. Determined, he set forth, pitying any poor person who managed to get in their way as he navigated through the crush of the crowd.
“A bus accident!” someone shouted in Spanish. A few more local voices chimed in. “A bus crashed into a rock off the road. Just a few miles from here!”
“What did they say?” Moriah stopped cold, grasping his arm in a tight grip. “A bus accident?”
“Yes.” For a nanosecond, he deeply resented the intrusion on these last few hours he had with Moriah, but he knew just as quickly that they needed to go to help. “We’d better see what we can do to help.”
“Oh, my God, Blake. I hope it’s not the bus carrying the kids back to the orphanage.” Her eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Henri and Bonita are on that bus.”