Page 19 of Prisoner of War
“It’s better than my Spanish,” she confessed.
Again, the quick, flashing smile. “You are...okay? You are alone here, on Fiesta night.”
“I’m waitingfor someone. They’re inside.” She pointed toward the front door of the station.
“He left you alone out here?” He sounded indignant.
“What makes you think it’s a man I’m waiting for?”
“It is not?”
She sidestepped that one. “Well, thanks anyway. But I’m fine.” She carefully retreated into the shadows until her back was once more against the wall of the building.
He stayed where he was, watchingher. “Americano,yes?” He spoke louder instead of coming closer.
“Right.”
“You wait outside because of the man inside, at the...table?” He moved his hands, clearly lost for the right word and apologizing for it. “I mean, he makes you afraid. Yes?”
She stared at him. “How did you know that?”
He smiled and his black eyes glowed with good humor. “I speak bad, bad English, but I am not bad here—”He touched his temple.
“Yes, but how did you know that?”
He spread his hands. “May I...come...?” He pointed toward her and back to himself.
“Yes, come closer.”
He came closer. Much closer. He stepped to her side so that she was forced to turn ninety degrees to face him. That pleased him for he nodded in satisfaction. “Now I see your face again. Beautiful.” He smiled. “You should not be afraidof me.”
“I’m not.”
He put his hand flat on the wall next to her head. “The man inside here, yes. I know you fear him because he looks...” He frowned. “Bad.”
“Scary?” she suggested.
He shook his head. “Only bad for ladies like you.”
She found herself lost for words again. He had sensed her reservations about going inside, then. That took a degree of perception few men had.
Behind him, histwo companions called out softly in rapid Spanish. He turned and answered and waved. They headed back down the alleyway, leaving him with Minnie. He turned back to her. “I will wait until your friend returns.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to go tonight? It’s Fiesta.”
“I go here. The man I come to see is no more.”
“Not here anymore?” she guessed. “Another soldier policeman person?”
He puzzledthat one out then shook his head. “No, not like the man behind the table.”
“Desk.”
“Sí.The men in here,” and he touched the building again, “they want to be at the Fiesta but cannot be because they have...disobeyed.”
“Ooooooh.” It gelled for her. “You mean these guys have been busted for doing something bad and this is their punishment? They have to work during Fiesta?”
“Sí.” His hand stillrested against the wall, close by her head.
