Page 23 of Healing Love

“My father was a farmer. Like his father and his father before him. Mangoes until the cartels moved in and marijuana became the crop that was forced on the farmers. My parents tried to resist, but we had to eat. Now that marijuana is legalized, that cash crop has dried up and poppy is now planted on many of the farms that used to supply food to our nation.”

“You…you were in college. Why did you come back?” she asked. “You could have gotten out.”

“Your white-bread American upbringing,” he scoffed. “I was smart. Went to school, got a scholarship, became a doctor. All because that was what the cartel wanted. And the plan was for me to come back and work here.”

“But why did you come back when you could have been free?”

“My family was here,” he growled. “Here. Under their thumb.”

The realization that he had been held hostage at one time, although differently, struck her. “You felt like you couldn’t leave.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Not as long as my family was here.” He saw her expression and bit out, “Don’t pity me. I got off the farm. I live in a big house with my trophy wife and sons. I have money, prestige, and don’t have to get my hands in the dirt.”

Pressing her fingers to her lips once again, she fought back the tears that threatened to come. “Back there?” she asked, nodding toward the road.

“I told you. Cartel wars. The money to be made here is insane. And there is always someone who wants to control the flow of fortune. The…retribution…for that, is what you saw. It serves as not only a way to get rid of insurgents but to publicly display the results as a deterrent.”

“You took an oath as a doctor. How can you condone that when you took an oath?” she asked, her voice shaking with fear and anger.

“I don’t do that,” he growled. “That massacre was not me. You’ve seen me. I patch them up, not tear themapart.” Taking her by the shoulders, he gave her a shake. “Don’t you get it? I’m trapped here, just like you are. I work to do what I can to make their lives…the lives of those like my father…better.”

“But you take their generosity. You live high, you live well.”

The quiet of the moment was broken only by the birds squawking in the tall trees that lined the road. The driver, not understanding English, still sat in the jeep eyeing the two. Letting go of her shoulders, Ernesto leaned back on his heels staring at the beauty in front of him. It had been a long time since he had witnessed that kind of passion. But her naivety could get her killed.

“All it would take is one nod from you, and I can give you that as well. Better food, a better place to lay your head at night. Clothes, jewels. Most importantly…protection.”

Her brow once again knitted in question. He watched in fascination as understanding dawned on her. And anger was quick to follow.

“You? You’re offering me a chance out of this hell if I become your mistress? What kind of man does that?”

“You think that’s a bad thing?” he asked incredulously. Leaning in closely, he said, “You’re a good nurse, Miriam, and a good woman. You need to get this though. I am your only way out of here.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper as she asked, “You can get me home?”

Guilt flashed across his face before being replaced with irritation. “No. You’re never going home again. They can’t take that risk. But I can offer you protectionand a standard of living that you’ve never experienced before.”

The quiet settled around them once again. Exhaustion was overtaking her as she accused, “That’s what you’re offering Sharon, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted readily. “She’s not stupid. She knows what I can offer and is smart enough to take me up on that.”

Placing her hand on the ground, she pushed herself up. Standing on shaky legs, she accepted his hand as he stood with her. Looking into his eyes, she pulled her lips in. “You have to know that’s not me.”

His eyes jerked to the side, his face granite hard. His gaze found hers once more and he said, “I know. That’s why I want to help you. Sharon? She’s just a fuck. Not really even a mistress that I’ll keep but just a fuck I can protect. But you? You’re different.”

“We need to get back.” Turning, she moved toward the jeep and hauled herself into the seat.

Ernesto joined her, shouting to the driver to proceed. She caught him glancing at her during the uneventful rest of the journey.What does he expect from me? How can he think I would want to stay?Reaching the compound, she allowed him to assist her from the jeep, not sure if her legs would hold her.

“I can help you,” he whispered smoothly. “You’re determined to be independent, but this place will eventually break you. And when you crack, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces.”

She lifted her tired gaze to his, knowing her attempt at a glare was underwhelming. Steeling herself, shepulled her hand from his and walked toward her building.You’re wrong, Dr. Villogas. I won’t break.

Now, it was evening and Miriam lay in her cot listening to the sounds of Lorainne’s ragged breathing. Sister Genovia had spent the day working over the injured and ill and the evening hours nursing Lorainne. Sharon was nowhere to be seen after the shift in the infirmary.In fact, I did not see her after Dr. Villogas left.

Lorainne was fading quickly, as though once her will to survive disappeared, her body was soon following. Miriam tended her for most of the evening and now Sister Genovia was bending over the ill woman, patting her brow with a damp cloth.

The wind outside was beginning to howl and the window shutters clacked against the force.

---