Paper Moon (37 page)

“We can and
will
keep this man in our prison,” Inspector Caro announced as he entered the room. Reaching the gurney, he pulled aside the towels stanching the boy's wound. “Once he is treated, transport him to the prison,” he ordered one of his men.

“Shouldn't he stay in the hospital?” Caroline asked as the medic replaced them. “I don't mean to insult you, but is it clean in the prison?”

“Prison or a pig sty,
señora,
what does it matter to the likes of this one?”

“Would you want
your
son in there, wounded like this?”

Caroline squared her shoulders, reminding Blaine of a mother hen, ruffling her feathers to protect one of her chicks. He might not feel the same way toward John that she did, but Blaine had to admire her spunk—and the faith at its root. What had he done to deserve her?

To deserve a second chance
. . .

The lightning clarity of the thought left no doubt in Blaine's mind as to the source. God corralled him with the help of strangers, giving him a second chance at love and family. No way could Blaine do less.

“You said you needed a witness, Inspector,” he reminded the official. “It would do you well to see that this young man is treated and protected like a national treasure, if you want to put Rocha's gang away.”

Caro snorted. “He is just a—how do you say—a pawn.”

“A pawn who undoubtedly knows names, places—”

“I saw Rocha and Argon beat one of the student couriers not long after I got involved. He'd taken some stolen jewelry for his own profit.” The young man lowered his head. “I don't know what happened to him.” His chin quivered with emotion under Caro's skeptical appraisal. “So help me God, I had no idea they'd do that kind of thing until then. I thought they were just petty thugs . . . jokes.” He swallowed, his words beginning to slur as he went on.

“By then it was too late to get out.”

“That ought to give us a little more bargaining power,” Manny Santos observed.

“He gives you Rocha and his thugs,” he said to Caro, “and you let him face trial and imprisonment in the States. We both get our man.”

One of the medics interrupted. “
Perdonamé
, Inspector, but we need to get this man to the hospital. He is losing much blood.”

“I'll give my superiors a call,” Manny assured Caroline as Caro gave the nod to move John out. “Till then, I'll stick to him like glue.”

“Promise?” Karen called after him.

Manny gave her a thumbs-up and followed the speeding cart out of the room.

Blaine would bet that the promise was more for the feather in Manny's Mohawk than heartfelt motivation to keeping John's hide out of a Mexican jail, but it was welcome, either way.

“I'll make a few calls myself,” Blaine said, as much to himself as to the others. He knew the undersecretary to the president from the urban renewal project. And wasn't Aquino's brother-in-law some kind of wheel in the police hierarchy?

Karen threw her arms around his waist, winding him with her hug. “Thank you, Daddy. I knew you could help.”

“We will need you and your family to delay your departure until tomorrow in order that we may take depositions,” Hector said, before Blaine could revel in his reinstatement as Best Dad in the World. “At the government's expense, of course.”

“Can't we just phone them in?” Caroline objected. She leaned into the shoulder Blaine offered her.

“I'd feel a lot safer if we went home until you had Rocha and his men in custody,” Blaine told the agent. “If we have to, we can come back, but I see no reason they can't be taken via a video conference, since both countries are working together and we have the technology.”

“Yeah, I want to go home,” Annie said, dropping onto the bed in despair.

Karen plopped next to her, arms crossed. “Me too.”

Hector held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, peoples, who am I to blame you? I will talk to my boss, but I think we can work it out.” He turned to the men who'd been taking pictures and collecting evidence.

“Do you have everything that you need?” he asked. At their nod, he produced a wide grin. “Bueno. Then let's went.”

Feeling as though he were on his last leg, Blaine followed them to the door and let them out. As he turned away, he came face-to-face with Caroline. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling wet with emotion.

“What?” Had he overlooked something, worse, hurt her inadvertently?

Her chin trembled. “I love you, Blaine Madison.”

The words filled him. If she made him feel any taller, he'd have to stoop to stand.

The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd started this trip feeling small, insignificant to those who mattered most. Then he'd met Caroline . . .
Sweet Caroline.

“I love you too, Sweet Caroline.”

Words weren't enough to thank this woman in his arms for all she meant to him. Nor was the love he planted on her lips. Or the gratitude with which he coveted them. She'd given him back his daughter with her wise counsel. Her love and laughter smoothed the raised and ragged scars left on his heart by Ellie's loss, while her delight and faith in her God filled the dark void of Blaine's soul with His light.

The first time Adam held Eve in his arms, he could have known no more joy nor want than that coursing through Blaine's veins at this moment. Surely the first man was equally torn between the spiritual urge to worship and the primal urge to ravish this warm, soft, and yielding creature in his arms.

“Sheesh, Dad, give her a chance to catch her breath.”

“Yeah, come up for air, you two.”

Blaine caressed Caroline's mouth once more, then backed away with a sigh.

She gazed up at him, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Did you hear anything?”

Blaine smiled. “Come to think of it, no.” Miraculously, the room had cleared and they were alone . . . together. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Now, where were we?”

“Paradise,” she sighed, the ethereal green of her gaze inviting him back to that private place where only they existed, man and woman, made by God's love for the purpose of love.

Only a fool would resist . . . and Blaine was no fool.

EPILOGUE

Red and white poinsettias adorned the Edenton church and hall for a Christmas wedding. In the candle glow, supplemented by overhead lighting, friends and family focused on the ivory linen-draped head table, bedecked in red and green floral arrangements.

Even the two sisters from La Quebrada had come out from their home in Idaho.

“Never miss the chance to share in the joy of friends,” Eloise told Caroline when she called to accept Caroline and Blaine's invitation. Free of the wheelchair now, Irene held her own with her sister as they made their way down the small reception line, each one extracting the promise of a dance from Blaine and his brother.

After a dinner of home-cooked food provided by the ladies auxiliary, Mark Madison rose at the wedding party's table for the traditional best man's toast to the bride and groom. Tall, handsome, with rakish sun-bleached hair curling at the starched collar of a made-to-order tuxedo, he lifted a glass of sparkling cider.

“My brother said that his bride was the other half of his heartbeat. And if you have spent even a minute with Caroline,” he said, “you'll know why.”

He gave Caroline a look that bordered on flirtatious, but then, having been around Blaine's brother on more than one occasion, she knew that Mark looked at all women that way, regardless of age or marital status. Annie was completely in love with her charming uncle, and the sisters from Idaho were well on their way to the same infatuation.

Caroline whispered through her smile to the man at her side— her lifemate and lovemate. “Did you really say that?”

A camera flashed, blinding her.

“No,” Blaine said, “but I
wish
I had.” His candor was just as heartwarming. “Mark is the silver-tongued devil of the family.” He breathed in her ear before pressing his cheek to hers for another blinding photo. “He inherited the gift of gab. I got the responsibility.”

“And an equal share of mischief,” she said, slapping his hand under the table.

The girls had wanted a formal wedding. The church ladies wanted to go all out for Caroline in thanks for all the showers and wedding receptions she'd helped to plan. All Caroline and Blaine wanted was each other . . . but neither had the heart to elope and disappoint the multitudes. So they'd waited and planned the holiday wedding, giving them time to tie up loose ends and make arrangements to go away in advance.

Thanks to their depositions and John's testimony, Jorge Rocha and his henchmen were behind bars. John was serving a sentence in a United States federal penitentiary, for which he'd be eligible for parole in five years if all went well. He corresponded regularly with Caroline and Blaine, who helped him enroll in an online engineering school with the offer of a job, if he earned his degree.

“May the love and happiness you share,” Mark continued, “grow ever more. Although . . .”

Caroline felt Blaine stiffen at his brother's pause. Although it didn't show that Mark had been drinking, they both had smelled the liquor on his breath when he arrived at the church. Not that Caroline had ever heard the charmer say anything crossing the line of harmless mischief.

Mark lifted his glass higher. “These are the first newlyweds I've ever known to return on their honeymoon to where they met and fell in love . . . for the purpose of adopting a child.”

It was true. Neither Caroline, nor Blaine, had been able to put the little Mexican boy out of their minds. Within a week, Berto was to become Alberto Marin Madison. His “I make thees” had become a slogan in the Spencer and Madison households. The church had even combined a wedding and toddler shower.

When Blaine and Randy traveled to Mexicalli to purchase the hacienda for the orphanage—another of God's miracles—Blaine gave the little boy a cell phone. The family had been talking with him, à la help from Father Menasco, on unlimited minutes ever since.

Which was another blessing, since the priest couldn't stop talking about the expansion project Blaine was working on. The owner, convinced that the rumor of the place being haunted would limit his chance to sell, all but donated it to the orphanage as a tax write-off. All they had to do now was raise the money for the renovation that Madison Corporation was designing gratis.

“What can I say?” Mark teased, shaking his head. “In one fell swoop, I have a new niece and a soon-to-be nephew. The bride and groom's cup, and their house, runneth over. To Blaine and Caroline, best of life, love, and happiness.”

A chorus of approval and applause erupted at the toast's end.

“Here, here!”

“Amen!”

“God bless!”

Blaine seized the moment to shower a few wishes of his own upon Caroline's lips. Although silent, Caroline heard them with every fiber of her being. A multitude of invisible caresses stirred the suppressed longings of the woman within, calling them to arms for the promise of the night at hand.

“Gee, you'd think our big brother was in love or something.”

The voice of Blaine's sister, Jeanne, drifted up the table from where she sat with Neta Madison.

Caroline reluctantly came down from the euphoria of her husband's affection as he pulled away to answer. “You better believe it, Squirt.”

“If he isn't, it's too late now,” Caroline told her.

From a family of two to a family of five. It still boggled Caroline's mind.

“Mom, Miz Dana is waving at you. I think it's time to cut the cake. Mom?”

Clad in green velvet, Annie looked like a snow princess as Caroline's maid of honor with the white fur headband and muff in lieu of flowers.

Next to her, in red, an animated Karen turned from chatting with her grandmother. “Yeah,
Mom
.” A broad grin spread across her face. “I can call you that now, since you're official.”

“You'd better.”

Annie and Karen had stood up with Caroline and Blaine for the small candlelit ceremony, while Dana assumed the role of wedding planner. She'd coordinated the wedding and the reception—a priceless friend in more ways than one.

“I guess we'd better cut the cake,” Blaine said, as their knife-waving friend caught his eye. “Before she cuts herself.”

As he pulled back Caroline's chair, she realized for the first time that one of her shoes was missing. She had it on when she sat down. “Wait a minute.” She ducked down, pushing the cloth out of the way. “I think that kiss made me throw a shoe.”

Laughing, Blaine knelt down beside Caroline's chair. Emerging from under the table with the prize in hand, he remained on his knees in Prince Charming fashion. As he eased it on her foot, he gave her a look that nearly blew the other one off. “Allow me,
Seen-der-
eh-yah
,” he said in his best Mexican accent.