“Wait,” Jaime said. “I have to talk to you.” He escorted her to a deserted corner of the lobby. “About tomorrow…”
“Yes?”
And she knew what he was going to ask. What she did not know was what she was going to answer. I’ve changed, Megan thought. I was so sure about my life before. I believed I had everything I wanted
Jaime was saying, “You don’t really want to go back to a convent, do you?”
Do I?
He was waiting for an answer.
I have to be honest with him, Megan thought. She looked into his eyes and said, “I don’t know what I want, Jaime. I’m confused.”
Jaime smiled. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Megan—this fight will be over soon. We’ll get what we want because the people are behind us. I can’t ask you to share the danger with me now, but I would like you to wait for me. I have an aunt living in France. You would be safe with her.”
Megan looked at him a long time before she answered. “Jaime—give me time to think about it.”
“Then you’re not saying no?”
Megan said quietly, “I’m not saying no.”
None of the group slept that night. They had too much to think about, too many conflicts to resolve.
Megan stayed awake reliving the past. The years in the orphanage, and the sanctuary of the convent. Then the sudden expulsion into a world she had given up forever. Jaime Miró was risking his life fighting for what he believed in. And what do I believe in? Megan asked herself. How do I want to spend the rest of my life?
She had made a choice once. Now she was forced to choose again. She would have to have an answer by morning.
Graciela was thinking about the convent too. They were such happy, peaceful years. I felt so close to God. Will I miss that?
Jaime was thinking about Megan. She mustn’t go back. I want her at my side. What will her answer be?
Ricardo was too excited to sleep, busily making plans for the wedding. The church at Bayonne…
Felix was wondering how to dispose of Amparo’s body. Let Largo Cortez take care of it.
Early the following morning, the group met in the lobby. Jaime approached Megan.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Have you thought about our conversation?”
She had thought of nothing else all night. “Yes, Jaime.”
He looked into her eyes, trying to read the answer there. “Will you wait for me?”
“Jaime—”
At that moment Largo Cortez hurried up to them. With him was a leathery-looking man in his fifties.
“I’m afraid there won’t be any time for breakfast,” Cortez said. “You should be leaving. This is José Cebrián, your guide. He will take you across the mountains into France. He’s the best guide in San Sebastian.”
“I’m glad to see you, José,” Jaime said. “What’s your plan?”
“We’re going to take the first part of the journey by foot,” José Cebrián told the group. “On the other side of the border, I’ve arranged for cars to be waiting for us. We should hurry. Come along, please.”
The group moved out into the street, which was painted yellow by the rays of the bright sun.
Largo Cortez came out of the hotel to see them off. “Safe journey,” he said.
“Thank you for everything,” Jaime replied. “We’ll be back, amigo. Sooner than you think.”
“We go this way,” José Cebrián ordered.
The group started to turn toward the square. And at that moment, soldiers and members of the GOE suddenly materialized at both ends of the street, sealing it off. There were at least a dozen of them, all heavily armed. Colonels Ramón Acoca and Fal Sostelo were leading them.
Jaime glanced quickly toward the beach, looking for an escape route. Another dozen soldiers were approaching from that direction. There was no escape. They would have to fight. Jaime instinctively reached for his gun.
Colonel Acoca called out, “Don’t even think about it, Miró, or we’ll shoot all of you down where you’re standing.”
Jaime’s mind was racing furiously, looking for a way out. How had Acoca known where to find him? Jaime turned and saw Amparo standing in the doorway, a look of profound sorrow on her face.