Page 74 of In a Far-Off Land
Max answered the door in wrinkled trousers and a white singlet. His feet were bare, his hair wild, dark circles like bruises under his eyes.
“Is she here?” Oscar pushed past Max. He yanked open the door to the bedroom, empty. The washroom door was open, no Mina.
“What happened?” Max followed Oscar into the kitchen. The one-eared cat jumped to the windowsill, looking at Oscar with disdain. The feeling was mutual.
Newspapers were strewn over the table, each one showing the picture of Minerva Sinclaire’s so-called friend. “Did you know?” He motioned to the newspapers.
Max clenched his jaw.
Oscar felt a twinge—more than a twinge, if he were honest—of pity for his cousin. Minerva Sinclaire had been more than a client to Max. Even he could see that. And now, looking at the state of Max, he figured the answer to his question was no.
Oscar hesitated, guilt twisting his insides, but he wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d find the woman and turn her in. “I need to find her, Max.”
“Why?”
Oscar didn’t answer. He didn’t have to because Max already knew.
“The reward.” Max stepped closer. “You think you can give her to Hearst? Use the money to get the boys home?”
Oscar didn’t meet Max’s gaze. The woman wasn’t worth saving. Didn’t he see that? “I did what I could for her. More than I had to, considering.” He glanced at the papers.
Max stiffened. “It doesn’t matter what she did before. She didn’t kill Lester.”
“I take care of my family.” Oscar felt his blood heat. “But you wouldn’t understand about that.” As soon as he said it, he regretted his words.
Max sat down heavily at the table. Despair clogged his voice. “You think you’re so noble, Oscar. But you don’t know anything.” He swallowed hard. “Maybe it’s time you heard the truth.”
“I don’t want to hear your confession.”
Max shook his head. “I’m not looking for absolution, Oscar.”
Oscar sat down. “Is this about the money you gave us? You looking for thanks?”
Max slammed his hand on the table. “You think that’s why I did it? For your thanks? You don’t know what it was like, being sent away.”
“Must have been rough.” Oscar looked out the window into the dark, wet night. The rain sluiced down the windowpane. He didn’t have time for this.
“It wasn’t like you think.” Max blew out a frustrated breath. “All I thought of was you and the boys with nothing to eat. Maria Carmen and her little brother and sister picking oranges while I lived like some kind of prince. It ate me up.”
“So you sent us guilt money.”
“When I had some. Dusty gave me clothes, food, all the booze I could drink. He wouldn’t let me go back to thecolonia, and believe me, I asked to be sent back. Begged. But he said I was his son now.” Max clenched his jaw. “Not that he treated me like one. So yes, I sent you money when I got some. Even though Tía Sanchia gave me away like a stray dog.”
Guilt pricked at Oscar, but he pushed it down. Mamá had sent him away, but he’d got his revenge. “You took Maria Carmen.”
Max shook his head. “She left on her own. I never—”
“She left me for you.” If Max wanted to talk truth, so be it.
Max looked away. “She made her choice, and it wasn’t me.”
“What are you talking about?” Of course she had chosen Max. That’s what killed her.
“I’m talking about the truth. What really happened to Maria.” Max stared at his hands. “The baby.” His voice dropped. “It wasn’t mine.”
Oscar jerked, his fists tightening. “She went to you. She left her family for you—”
“Not for me. It was never for me.” Max’s shoulders sagged, and for a moment he looked older—much older than his years. “It was the life she wanted. The fancy automobiles, the parties, the clothes. I told her to go easy. I’d seen what that life could do, but she didn’t listen. It wasn’t long before she started up with...” The words seemed to stick in his throat.
