Page 20 of Death

“Okay.” He glances in the direction of the hill where a lone tree stands. “What are your plans today?”

“I’m going to walk through the village and make sure everyone is okay.”

“I’ll have Marc accompany you.”

Picking up my glass of orange juice, I nod.

Standing up, Pedro says, “Reach me on the radio if you need me.”

When he heads back into the house, I absentmindedly twirl the diamond ring on my finger, and my thoughts turn to the woman who’s somewhere out there. Maybe she’s safe, and I’ll cross paths with her in a restaurant, or maybe she’s in a fuck-ton of trouble, and I might get to her too late.

Thinking obsessively about it won’t help matters.

Clenching my jaw, I set down the glass and rise to my feet.

Leaving the veranda, I walk through the villa and out the front door. I notice Pedro is talking with Marc, and a few seconds later, he jogs to catch up with me as I head toward the road that runs through the village.

Even though it’s winter, it’s actually a pleasant day and not too cold.

There are cottages on either side of the road, and the one closest to my villa has been converted into a school. As I approach the open door, I hear Gianna, Pedro’s wife, giving English lessons. At night, she also gives English lessons to some of the adults. The people I’ve saved are all from different countries, so it’s important for everyone to at least speak English.

Reaching the doorway, I glance over the twenty-seven children, all different ages.

Maja, a nine-year-old Polish girl we saved a year ago when we found her and her mother in Colombia, notices me first. A smile explodes over her face, and she darts up from her chair.

“Maja!” Gianna gasps, but when she sees me standing in the doorway, she shakes her head and takes a seat at her desk.

The next instant, all the kids are up from their chairs, and chuckling, I give a few hugs while ruffling the boys’ hair.

“Are you all listening to Gianna?” I ask.

I’m given a bunch of nods, their expressions eager.

“Get back to your seats,” I order, my tone affectionate.

This is where I see the real fruit of my labor, twenty-seven children who are in a happy and healthy environment.

Glancing at Gianna, I say, “I apologize for the interruption.”

“It’s fine.” She smiles at me before I leave the cottage to continue down the road.

“Anything I should know about?” I ask Marc, who’s in charge of making sure no fights break out among the people. If someone has a problem, they know to go to Marc, and he only involves me if it’s something he can’t deal with.

“Everything is going well,” he says.

I smile and greet the people sitting in front of their cottages and stop at random cottages to exchange a few words.

I spend a good twenty minutes by the storage room where we keep all the supplies and food we source from local farms. Romana, Marc’s wife, is in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly. She has a group of women and men who assist her.

Leaving the storage facility, I continue further down the road. I hear a baby crying when I get close to the cottage where Catalina and Carmen, a mother and daughter from Colombia, live.

I knock on the front door, and when I push it open, it’s to see Catalina sitting with her head in her hands while an exhausted Carmen is trying to pacify her son.

“You both look like you’ve been to war,” I mutter as I walk toward Carmen. She doesn’t hesitate to hand Thiago over to me. Since he’s been born, I’ve babysat the little boy a few times.

I position the very unhappy baby against my shoulder and rub his back for a few seconds before he lets rip, filling his diaper.

Carmen just shakes her head at me as she slumps down in the other chair at the kitchen table. “How do you do that?”