Amparo was wondering too, but she was too proud to ask.
Jaime led her into the bar at the far end of the lobby and took a table in the corner.
When the waiter approached them, Jaime said, “A glass of wine, por favor.”
“One?”
“One.”
Amparo watched as Jaime took out a small packet and opened it. It contained a fine, powdery substance.
“Jaime—” There was desperation in Amparo’s voice. “Please listen to me! Try to understand why I did what I did. You’re tearing the country apart. Your cause is hopeless. You must stop this insanity.”
The waiter reappeared and set a glass of wine on the table. When he walked away, Jaime carefully poured the contents of the packet into the glass and stirred it. He pushed the glass in front of Amparo.
“Drink it.”
“No!”
“Not many of us are privileged to choose the way we die,” Jaime said quietly. “This way will be quick and painless. If I turn you over to my people, I can’t make any such promise.”
“Jaime—I loved you once. You must believe me. Please—”
“Drink it.” His voice was implacable.
Amparo looked at him for a long moment, then picked up the glass. “I’ll drink to your death.”
He watched as Amparo put the glass to her lips and swallowed the wine in one gulp.
She shuddered. “What happens now?”
“I’ll help you upstairs. I’ll put you to bed. You’ll sleep.”
Amparo’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re a fool,” she whispered. “Jaime—I’m dying, and I tell you that I loved you so—” Her words were beginning to slur.
Jaime rose and helped Amparo to her feet. She stood up, unsteady. The room seemed to be rocking.
“Jaime—”
He guided her out the door and into the lobby, holding her up. Largo Cortez was waiting for him with a key.
“I’ll take her to her room,” Jaime said. “See that she’s not disturbed.”
“Right.”
Cortez watched as Jaime half-carried Amparo up the stairs.
In her room, Megan was thinking how strange it felt to be by herself in a hotel in a resort town. San Sebastian was filled with people on vacation, honeymooners, lovers enjoying themselves in a hundred other hotel rooms. And suddenly Megan wished Jaime were there with her, and wondered what it would be like to have him make love to her. All the feelings that she had been suppressing for so long came flooding into her mind in a wild torrent of emotions.
But what did Jaime do to Amparo? Could he possibly have…but no, he could never have done that. Or could he? I want him, she thought. Oh, Lord, what’s happening to me? What can I do?
Ricardo was whistling as he dressed. He was in a wonderful mood. I’m the luckiest man in the world, he thought. We’ll be married in France. There’s a beautiful church across the border in Bayonne. Tomorrow…
In her room, Graciela was taking a bath, luxuriating in the warm water, thinking of Ricardo. She smiled to herself and thought: I’m going to make him so happy. Thank You, God.
Felix Carpio was thinking about Jaime and Megan. A blind man can see the electricity between them, he thought. It is going to bring bad luck. Nuns belong to God. It’s bad enough that Ricardo has taken Sister Graciela from her calling. But Jaime had always been reckless. What was he going to do about this one?
The five of them met for supper in the hotel dining room. No one mentioned Amparo.
Looking at Jaime, Megan felt suddenly embarrassed, as though he could read her mind.
It’s better not to ask questions, she decided. I know he could never do anything brutal
They found that Largo Cortez had not exaggerated about the supper. The meal began with gazpacho—the thick cold soup made from tomatoes, cucumbers, and water-soaked bread—followed by a salad of fresh greens, a huge dish of paella—rice, shrimp, chicken, and vegetables in a wonderful sauce—and ended with a delicious flan. It was the first hot meal Ricardo and Graciela had had in a long time.
When the meal was over, Megan rose. “I should be getting to bed.”