Paper Moon (21 page)

Caroline had hoped to find some peace of mind in the sanctuary, not stir up her feelings even more. She was a professional now. Her schedule wouldn't allow her to take on another child, even though the motherly feelings Berto had stirred in her heart would. Besides, she knew nothing about raising a boy. What kind of role model could she provide him?
It wouldn't be fair to him,
she argued with herself as she and Blaine made their way out of the building into the
recinto,
or walled-in compound. Scribed into the stones of the old church were the names of those who'd died during its construction.

“This trip, being with you and the others, has caused me to reexamine my thoughts on many things . . .” Blaine said, interrupting her internal argument. “About faith and family.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “I've been trying to maintain the status quo, even when I wasn't happy with it. Maybe because I didn't want it to get any worse. Or maybe it's because I was comfortable, if not thrilled, with what I knew. I preferred discontent of the known to the possible promise of the unknown.” He exhaled a breath though his lips with a half whistle. “I guess that boils down to lack of faith, huh?”

“Was it Mark Twain who said only wet babies like change?”

Caroline smiled, but Blaine's admission struck a chord in her mind. Is that what she was doing in her life—holding on to the status quo so tightly that she was squeezing out the potential for further happiness or fulfillment? Was she like the guy in Ecclesiastes whose heart rejoiced in all his labor only to find it was all vanity and grasping at the wind?
The wind instead of the joy she'd felt holding
little Berto in her arms?

“I'll bet you keep God in stitches,” Blaine teased. He slipped his arm about her waist and gave her a playful hug.

For such an innocent gesture, its effect on Caroline was profound.

In addition to a little boy in her arms, she imagined herself in Blaine's embrace. And there was Annie, entering the group hug, and Karen. Great. Now the voices in her head were drawing pictures.

God, is this the result of hormones and emotions running amok, or
a preview of what could be—if I were willing to leave my current comfort
zone and take a chance on love and faith?

“Time to get back to the bus.” Blaine didn't remove his arm.

Instead, he used it to usher her through the ancient tombstones toward the gated entrance. It felt so right there, being this close to him . . . and safe within the protective circle of his arm.

“Mom, look what I got for the bathroom,” Annie called out to them as they approached the bus. Digging into a plastic bag, she produced a ceramic dish. “It's a soap dish with the same blue as our bathroom, and it says
Cuernavaca
on it.” Having resolved to buy a small but practical souvenir from every place they visited, Annie was thrilled.

“It'll be perfect.”

“Annie,” Karen called out from inside the baggage bay. “Toss it to me, and I'll stow it with my stuff for now. I can't find your backpack.”

“Kurt and Wally helped load the luggage this morning while Karen and John and I were at the hotel gift shop.” Annie rolled her blue eyes heavenward. “Males!
Everything
is mixed up.”

Caroline smiled. Boy, could she relate. Between Blaine and Berto, her heart, mind, and spirit were as mixed up as they could get. Or maybe Hector was right about that moon.

CHAPTER
15

Taxco was nestled into the foothills of the Sierra Madres like a precious child cradled in its mother's arms. Caroline tried to capture the vista from Santa Prica Church with a panoramic disposable camera. It was a fairy-tale setting, the kind that appears only once in a hundred years. Red-tiled roofs and narrow, winding streets added the dimensions of stark ups, downs, and arounds to the standard four map directions. With the passages barely wide enough for two cars to pass without running pedestrians into the shops along the way, there was no point to traditional highway dividing lines. Instead, the road rambled like the flowering vines painted down its center.

With beauty, charm, and very steep inclines, the town literally took Caroline's breath away. And she'd barely regained it from unloading the bus and settling in at the picturesque Posada de la Misión
.
The fresh slacks and cotton sweater she'd changed into were now damp with perspiration, but the spiral climb through the streets of the vertical city had been worth it.

“Thank God the authorities had the foresight to preserve this,” she said to Dana, handing over a dollar to a beautiful little girl for a postcard.

“They're cheaper in the souvenir shop at the hotel,” Blaine reminded her.

“But this young lady is such a good salesperson.”

The child, of grade-school age judging by her size, beamed. All she'd said was “Cards for the church,” but Caroline had overheard one of the nuns nearby explaining to another tourist how the monies were used to help the children of the village.

“I can't argue with the heart.”

Blaine's expression of wonder and admiration nearly took what starch the climb had spared out of her knees.

Caroline tried to ignore the sharp elbow jab Dana gave her on the sly.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Evidently she had failed. “When I signed on to go to Mexico, I didn't know mountain climbing was on the agenda.”

Lord, I know the “Thou shalt not kill” rule, but Dana is pushing
the envelope.

“At least the return walk will be downhill,” her friend consoled her.

The madonna innocence on her face switched to a grin of devilment. “And there are all those shops to check out along the way.”

“Don't forget,” Blaine reminded them. “Dinner is at seven at the hotel. You have four hours. I'm going to head back and make some phone calls.”

“Business?” Caroline could have bitten off her tongue. As if it were her business what kind of calls he had to make.

“Always.” He turned to where the girls were examining the assortment of postcards. “You two stay with the adults. No running off on your own.”

Karen made a face. “Aw, man, we've got a map . . . and John's with us.”

Blaine dug in deeper. “You heard me. It's promise to stay with Caroline or come back to the hotel with me now.”

“Uncle Mark lets us go anywhere we want on the boardwalk at the beach.”

“I wouldn't turn you loose in Mexico with Uncle Mark.” Blaine snorted. “I wouldn't turn Uncle Mark loose in Mexico, for that matter.”

“It's not like we have anyplace special to go,” Annie pointed out to her friend.

John walked over from where he'd been taking in the view above the town. “Don't worry, Mr. B. I'll take care of
all
the girls.”

The flirtatious wink he gave her and Dana tickled Caroline.

What a charmer.

“Besides, I can show them the art of bartering. The storekeepers love to haggle over prices.”

“My dad is
so
out of touch,” Karen complained to the world at large.

Blaine took it in stride, patient but persistent. “So, what's it going to be? Staying with Caroline or going back with me?”

“Miz C.” From her tone, Karen might be choosing between hemlock and arsenic.

“We'll have a grand time.” Caroline's assurance was directed both ways. “You kids can keep Dana and me from getting lost.”

“You bet,” her friend threw in. “Heaven only knows where my son and husband are.”

Blaine gave a smile of relief. “Great.” Before Caroline realized what he was doing, he leaned over and gave her an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, and good luck.”

As he walked away, Caroline, Dana, and the girls stared after him in stunned silence.

Annie thawed first. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” Karen answered, no less affected. “I haven't seen him act like this since I was a kid.” She snorted in disbelief. “If he asks me if I want to ride horsey, I'll die.”

“It's gotta be a moon hangover,” John said. “Makes people romantic for days, no matter how old they are.”

“But this is my
dad,
” Karen reminded him. She turned to inspect a rack of beaded jewelry on display behind them. “Like, he's too old to be acting like that.”

“He's not
that
old,” Annie protested.

From somewhere in the flutter of reaction beating about in Caroline's brain, she blessed her very wise child.

Karen turned with all the authority of a self-appointed Miss Manners. “But not
in public
.”

Still stuck next to Caroline at the same spot on the cobbled street where Blaine had left them, Dana snickered. “Seems like you bring out the boy in someone,” she whispered to Caroline behind the cover of her hand.

Caroline, stuck somewhere between the kiss and being relegated as too old for a public display of affection, remained silent.

“What in Cupid's name are you going to do about that, girlfriend?” Dana challenged.

“Yeah, Mom, what
are
you going to do?” Annie chimed in, the selective hearing that chronically managed to miss parental instruction now on full alert.

Amid a scramble of positives and negatives seeking order in her mind, one sentiment surfaced. “I think I'll just take it one kiss . . . er . . .” What on earth was she saying? “I mean, one
day
at a time.”

Or one prayer at a time was more like it,
she thought, ignoring Dana's
Told you so
grin. Prayer that this is God's will. Prayer that Blaine will continue his journey back to the only One who could make this work between them. And prayer that whatever transpired between them would not be
in public
.

Even Karen's rebellion couldn't dampen Blaine's mood as he descended the pebbled incline to the cluster of stuccoed, tiled guest houses the group was sharing. Whistling, he took the steps to his suite two at a time and unlocked the heavy, arched oak door.

While the exteriors of the guest quarters, hotel office, and restaurant were reminiscent of an old Spanish mission, the interiors were modernized and luxurious. His rubber-soled shoes silent on the leather-colored tile floor, he crossed a small living area replete with stone fireplace and mission furniture arranged in a cozy circle.

Stopping in the long dressing corridor with tiled sinks separated from the shower and john area by a row of closets, he washed some of the travel grime from his face and hands before heading into the sleeping area at the far end of the suite.

It would be a good time to try Carlos Aquino—before the end of siesta. Tugging out his wallet, he sat on the edge of his bed and searched for the business card Aquino had given him at the Ballet Folklórica. The hacienda was likely to be a steal, given its run- down condition. As a home, Blaine could turn it around into a hefty profit. As an orphanage, it was going to take some creative design. The only asset of the latter was the large ballroom and the proximity to the orphanage itself.

Blaine's business mind tugged at his resolve to turn a golden goose into a turkey as he read the instructions for using the old-time Ma Bell black phone. The fact was, the turkey was needed more, he decided, ending the mind game. But upon dialing the number, he got an answering machine.

“Yes, Carlos, this is Blaine Madison. I came across some property in Mexicalli that I heard you are handling, and want to find out more about it for my daughter's . . . for my church group. They are talking about expanding the orphanage. The place is a ruin, but maybe we can work something out. My cell number is—”

A loud creak coming from the adjoining room drew Blaine's attention. He hastily rattled off his cell phone number and hung up.

“Girls?” He walked over to the connecting door. Stopping, he knocked before turning the old iron knob. “Anybody home?”