Page 28 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

“Perfect. I don’t need to use your phone, then.” She stepped outside into a morning that was rapidly heating up toward a miserably hot afternoon.

The Ferrosa house wasn’t much to look at on the outside. But the inside was neat and surprisingly roomy, with one large, central room taking up most of the space. An incredibly wrinkled woman answered the door. The top of her head came up maybe to Elise’s chin.

No sign of two small children in the house. She took a deep breath and plunged in, hoping against hope she was at the right place. “Hello. I am Sister Mary Elise. I’m here to take the children to safety.”

“The Lord has answered my prayers and sent His messenger!” the elderly woman exclaimed.

Elise winced. She was a lot of things, but God’s messenger was not one of them. But in short order, she was hustled inside, parked at a rough wooden table, and a heaping plate of black beans and rice plunked down before her.

“Are the children here?” she asked around a mouthful of the delicious concoction that turned out to be laced with spicy sausage and cooked into a smoky stew.

“Visiting my niece and her children today. They will be back for supper.”

Elise asked, “You don’t happen to have a telephone, do you?”

“I do.” The woman reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a shockingly high-tech cell phone, which she passed to Elise.

Gratefully, she dialed the United States country code followed by Father Ambrose’s phone number. She nearly sobbed in relief at the sound of his voice saying hello.

“It’s me, Elise. I think I’ve found the kids. But I’m in a bit of trouble and need your help.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Acuna.”

“Are the children all right?”

“I haven’t seen them yet, but I’m told they’re fine. That’s not the problem. I’ve lost all my money and documentation.”

“How did you manage that, child?”

“Long story short: we were ambushed by rebels, who were attacked by soldiers. In fleeing the scene, my pouch with all my personal things and medical supplies got left behind.”

“We?”

“An even longer story.” And one she didn’t plan to tell just now. “I need you to wire me a little expense money and see about replacing my passport or getting me some sort of paperwork so I can get on a plane for the States.”

Travel waivers for the Garza children had already been arranged through the Apostolic Nunciature of the Holy See in Bogota, which was a fancy title for the Vatican Embassy to Colombia. But she was out of luck. Worst case, she could put the kids on a plane by themselves and follow them home later. But they were awfully small to travel alone. A motherly instinct she didn’t even know she had reared up in protest at the idea. Where had that come from?

Father Ambrose interrupted her unpleasant train of thought. “I’ll see what I can do. It may take me a day or two. Will you be all right until then?”

“I think so. But hurry.” The last thing she needed was for Drago to come after her and find her still in Acuna. As attractive as he might be, she and the children were better off not in the company of a violent criminal being hunted by the government, as surely he would be after last night’s shoot-out.

“The woman currently watching after the kids can probably be convinced to put me up for that long. She seems the friendly type.”

“Need me to talk to her?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Elise passed the phone to the elderly woman, who took it, frowning in confusion. As the woman listened, her face cleared and even took on a reverent expression. The woman smiled and nodded at her, and Elise’s alarm grew. What was the padre saying to put that awed expression on the poor woman’s face?

Grandma disconnected the call. “It is a great honor to help you. A great honor, indeed. May God bless you and your work, Sister.”

What on earth did he say about her? Not that she was about to look this gift horse in the mouth. Abashed, she managed not to roll her eyes as the woman took her hand and kissed it.

“You will stay here until everything is arranged,” Grandma ordered.

Elise nodded. “But only if you let me help you with the cooking and cleaning.”

Grandma protested, but Elise stood her ground. She wasn’t a freeloader and never had been. She’d pull her weight around here and that was that. As the afternoon progressed, it became clear that the older woman thought she was some sort of saint in the making. The woman kept mumbling prayers to her and kissing her hand at every opportunity. It was tough to stomach. Elise felt like the worst kind of fraud by the time dinner was served and a pack of six children came tumbling loudly into the house.

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