The Sands of Time (30 page)

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.

Felix said, “What the bloody hell! I thought you—”

“I gave her sleeping pills. They should have knocked her out until we got across the border.”

“The bitch!”

Colonel Acoca walked toward Jaime. “It’s over.” He turned to one of his men. “Disarm them.”

Felix and Ricardo were looking toward Jaime for guidance, ready to follow his lead. Jaime shook his head. Reluctantly, he handed over his gun, and Felix and Ricardo followed suit.

“What are you going to do with us?” Jaime asked.

Several passersby stopped to watch the proceedings.

Colonel Acoca’s voice was curt. “I’m taking you and your gang of murderers back to Madrid. We’ll give you a fair military trial and then hang you. If I had my way, I’d hang you here now.”

“Let the sisters go,” Jaime said. “They had nothing to do with this.”

“They’re accomplices. They’re as guilty as you are.”

Colonel Acoca turned and gave a signal. The soldiers motioned to the growing crowd of onlookers to move aside and let three army trucks drive up.

“You and your assassins will ride in the middle truck,” the colonel informed Jaime. “My men will be in front of you and in back of you. If any of you makes one false move, they have orders to kill all of you. Do you understand?”

Jaime nodded.

Colonel Acoca spat into Jaime’s face. “Good. Into the truck.”

There was an angry murmur from the now sizable crowd.

Amparo watched impassively from the doorway as Jaime, Megan, Graciela, Ricardo, and Felix climbed into the truck, surrounded by soldiers with automatic weapons.

Colonel Sostelo walked up to the driver of the first truck. “We’ll head straight for Madrid. No stops along the way.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

By now, many people had gathered at both ends of the street to watch what was happening. Colonel Acoca started to climb into the first truck. He called out to those in front of the truck, “Clear the way.”

From the side streets more people began to emerge.

“Move along,” Acoca ordered. “Out of the way.”

And still they came, the men wearing the wide Basque
chapellas.
It was as though they were responding to some invisible signal.
Jaime Miró is in trouble.
They came from shops and homes. Housewives dropped what they were doing and moved out into the street. Shopkeepers about to open for business heard the news and hurried to the hotel. And still they came. Artists and plumbers and doctors, mechanics and salesmen and students, many carrying shotguns and rifles, axes and scythes. They were Basques, and this was their homeland. It started with a few, and then a hundred, and within minutes it had swollen to more than a thousand, filling the sidewalks and streets, completely surrounding the army trucks. They were ominously silent.

Colonel Acoca observed the huge crowd in desperation. He screamed, “Everybody get out of the way or we’ll start shooting.”

Jaime called out, “I wouldn’t advise it. These people hate you for what you’re trying to do to them. A word from me and they’ll tear you and your men to pieces. There’s one thing you forgot, Colonel. San Sebastian is a Basque town. It’s my town.” He turned to his group. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jaime helped Megan down from the truck, and the others followed. Acoca watched helplessly, his face tight with fury.

The crowd was waiting, hostile and silent. Jaime walked up to the colonel. “Take your trucks and get back to Madrid.”

Acoca looked around at the still growing mob. “I—you won’t get away with this, Miró.”

“I have gotten away with it. Now get out of here.” He spat in Acoca’s face.

The colonel stared at him for a long, murderous moment.
It can’t end this way,
he thought desperately.
I was so close. It was checkmate.
But he knew that it was worse than a defeat for him. It was a death sentence. The OPUS MUNDO would be waiting for him in Madrid. He looked at the sea of people surrounding him. He had no choice.

He turned to his driver, and his voice was choked with fury. “We’re moving out.”

The crowd stepped back, watching as the soldiers climbed into the trucks. A moment later, the trucks began to roll down the street, and the crowd began to cheer wildly. It started out as a cheer for Jaime Miró, and it grew louder and louder, and soon they were cheering for their freedom, and their fight against tyranny, and their coming victory, and the streets reverberated with the noise of their celebration.

Two teenagers were screaming themselves hoarse. One turned to the other. “Let’s join ETA.”

An elderly couple held each other, and the woman said, “Now maybe they’ll give us back our farm.”

An old man stood alone in the crowd, silently watching the army trucks leave. When he spoke, he said, “They’ll be back one day.”

Jaime took Megan’s hand and said, “It’s over. We’re free. We’ll be across the border in an hour. I’ll take you to my aunt.”

She looked into his eyes. “Jaime—”

A man pushed his way toward them through the crowd and hurried up to Megan.

“Excuse me,” he said breathlessly. “Are you Sister Megan?”

She turned to him. “Yes.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve had quite a time finding you. My name is Alan Tucker. I wonder if I could speak to you for a moment?”

“Yes.”

“Alone.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just leaving for—”

“Please. This is very important. I’ve come all the way from New York to find you.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “To find me? I don’t understand. Why—?”

“I’ll explain it to you, if you’ll give me a moment.”

The stranger took her arm and walked her down the street, talking rapidly. She glanced back once at where Jaime Miró stood waiting for her.

Megan’s conversation with Alan Tucker turned her world upside down.

“The woman I represent would like to see you.”

“I don’t understand. What woman? What does she want with me?”

I wish I knew the answer to that,
Alan Tucker thought. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that. She’s waiting for you in New York.”

It made no sense.
There must be some mistake.
“Are you sure you have the right person—Sister Megan?”

“Yes. But your name isn’t Megan. It’s Patricia.”

And in a sudden, blinding flash, Megan knew. After all these years, her fantasy was about to come true. She was finally going to learn who she was. The very idea of it was thrilling…and terrifying.

“When—when would I have to leave?” Her throat was suddenly so dry, she could barely speak the words.

I want you to find out where she is and bring her back as quickly as possible.

“Right away. I’ll arrange a passport for you.”

She turned and saw Jaime standing in front of the hotel, waiting.

“Excuse me a moment.”

Megan walked back to Jaime in a daze, and she felt as though she were living a dream.

“Are you all right?” Jaime asked. “Is that man bothering you?”

“No. He’s—no.”

He took Megan’s hand. “I want you to come with me now. We belong together, Megan.”

Your name isn’t Megan. It’s Patricia.

She looked at Jaime’s strong, handsome face, and thought:
I want us to be together. But we’ll have to wait First I have to find out who I am.

“Jaime—I want to be with you. But there is something I have to do first.”

He studied her, his face troubled. “You’re going to leave?”

“For a little while. But I’ll be back.”

He looked at her for a long time, then slowly nodded. “All right. You can reach me through Largo Cortez.”

“I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

And she meant it. But that was before the meeting with Ellen Scott.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-SEVEN

“D
eus Israel conjungat vos; et ipse sit vobiscum, qui, misertus est duobus unicis…plenius benedicere te… The God of Israel join you together, and He be with you…and now, Lord, make them bless Thee more fully. Blessed are all they that love the Lord, that walk in His ways. Glory…”

Ricardo looked away from the priest and glanced at Graciela standing at his side.
I was right. She is the most beautiful bride in the world.

Graciela was still, listening to the words of the priest echo through the cavernous, vaulted church. There was such a sense of peace in this place. It seemed to Graciela to be filled with the ghosts of the past, all the thousands of people who had come there generation after generation to find forgiveness, fulfillment, and joy. It reminded her so much of the convent.
I feel as though I’ve come home again,
Graciela thought.
As though I belong.

“Exaudi nos, omnipotens et misericors Deus; ut, quod nostra ministratur officio, tua benedictione potius impleatur Per Dominum…Hear us, Almighty and merciful God, that what is done by our ministry may be abundantly fulfilled with Thy blessing…”

He has blessed me, more than I deserve. Let me be worthy of Him.

“In te speravi, domine: dixi: Tu es Deus meus: in manibus tuis tempora mea…”

“In Thee, O Lord, have I hoped; I said: Thou art my God; my times are in Thy hands…”

My times are in Thy hands. I took a solemn vow to devote the rest of my life to Him.

“Suscipe, quaesumus, Domine, pro sacra connubii lege munus oblatum…”

“Receive, we beseech Thee, O Lord, the offering we make to Thee on behalf of the holy bond of wedlock…”

The words seemed to reverberate in Graciela’s head. She felt as though time had stopped.

“Deus qui potestate virtutis tuae de nihilo cuncta fecisti…”

“Oh, God, who by the mighty power didst make all things out of nothing…”

“Oh, God, who has hallowed wedlock to foreshadow the union of Christ with the Church…look in Thy mercy upon this, Thy handmaid, who is to be joined in wedlock and entreats protection and strength from Thee…”

But how can He show me mercy when I am betraying Him?

Graciela was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. The walls seemed to be closing in on her.

“Nihil in ea ex actibus suis ille auctor praevaricationis usurpet…”

“Let the author of sin work none of his evil deeds in her…”

That was the moment when Graciela knew. She felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her. She was filled with an exalted, ineffable joy.

The priest was saying, “May she win the peace of the kingdom of heaven. We ask Thee to bless this marriage, and—”

“I’m already married,” Graciela said aloud.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Ricardo and the priest were staring at her. Ricardo’s face was pale.

“Graciela, what are you—?”

She took his arm and said gently, “I’m sorry, Ricardo.”

“I—I don’t understand. Have—have you stopped loving me?”

She shook her head. “I love you more than my life. But my life doesn’t belong to me anymore. I gave it to God a long time ago.”

“No! I can’t let you sacrifice your—”

“Darling Ricardo…It is not a sacrifice. It’s a blessing. In the convent I found the first peace I had ever known. You’re a part of the world I gave up—the best part. But I did give it up. I must return to my world.”

The priest was standing there listening, silent.

“Please forgive me for the pain I am causing you, but I can’t go back on my vows. I would be betraying everything I believe in. I know that now. I could never make you happy, because I could never be happy. Please understand.”

Ricardo stared at her, shaken, and no words would come. It was as though something in him had died.

Graciela looked at his stricken face, and her heart went out to him. She kissed him on the cheek. “I love you,” she said softly. Her eyes filled with tears. “I will pray for you. I will pray for us both.”