Betrayed (54 page)
“‘Do what is right and do not give way to fear,’” Vicki repeated slowly.
“Exactly. Like Taylor says, it’s all personal in the long run—
I
, not
we
. One person’s decisions really can change history. Abraham and Sarah’s single mistake with Hagar changed world politics forever. A decision twenty years ago changed many lives. All because people chose to act in fear. But on the flip side, what might one child you’ve saved in your work grow up to be? Who knows what Alicia and Gabriela might contribute to their people someday?
One situation.
One child.
One fire.
Vicki conjured up the image of a young couple holding a small Vicki and Holly in that faded old photo of Evelyn’s. Jeff and Victoria Craig hadn’t been much older than Vicki was now when they’d given their lives in these mountains. Her thoughts moved to Mom and Dad Andrews, who’d lovingly accepted two small, hurting girls into their home. To Evelyn McKie with her enormous family of heart, if not of blood. Bill Taylor, sacrificing his own anonymity to make amends for the past. Joe, patiently watching and waiting for months in these mountains.
Just one person here. Another there. But they added up; oh, how they added up!
The green tangle of cloud forest was now emerging from the mist below the rock outcropping, the eastern sky brightening from pink to blue above the lake. At any moment the sun would spring up over the distant jungle canopy.
God, I can’t run Your universe or fix it all. Forgive me for being arrogant enough to even think it’s my job. All You call me is to do my part. To be Sarah’s daughter. “Do what is right and do not give way to fear.”
“You’re right. It’s all we can do. It’s enough.” Vicki glanced at Joe. He was staring at the lake. They’d now finished all the pertinent topics, and Vicki was suddenly feeling inordinately conscious of his closeness, the faint masculine musk of his body warmth.
“So, what’s next for you?”
The query came out in unison. Joe waved a hand for Vicki to go first.
“I’m flying back tonight to Children at Risk headquarters. I plan to concentrate on pursuing contracts with other faith-based organizations now that we’ve seen the success of Casa de Esperanza as a prospect. I’ll be staying put for a while except for short-term trips. And you?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about getting out of undercover work. I’m tired of having to pretend to be something I’m not, of spending my time with the world’s scum. I’m slated next for a SAC posting since the DEA decided not to can me for my leave of absence. That would be a more supervisory position running a field office. But for now I’ve decided to take up an offer I had pending before this side trip—an instructor stint at the DEA training academy in Quantico, Virginia. Undercover tactics.”
“Really?” Vicki toned down the delight of her exclamation. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Children at Risk is based in Washington, DC. Not too far from Quantico.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Joe said coolly, but there was nothing cool about the disturbing smile in his eyes, and Vicki’s heart began to race.
“I wanted to say—”
“By the way—”
Again they spoke together. This time Vicki laughed and waved. “Okay, you first.”
“I just wanted to say I’ve been doing some reading on Abraham. I remember the story from Sunday school, but somehow they always left out those harem parts.”
“Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to say.” Vicki felt flushed. “I never said thank you for coming after me, and . . . and I want to before we’re out of here. I know God saved me when I really thought I was going to die, but you were the one He sent. And Cesar too. Unlike Abraham in that harem, you chose to risk your life to come after me.”
“Abraham turned out to be a pretty incredible guy in the end. I guess he learned from his mistakes. But I have a hard time understanding him letting a woman like Sarah go without fighting to keep her. I read that part about being Sarah’s daughter—and the description it gives of her. She wasn’t just a woman beautiful enough to tempt a pharaoh; she was beautiful on the inside too. The kind of woman you could count on wandering through a wilderness in a strange land. The kind of woman you’d want at your side whether times were good or when they got rough. The kind of woman you are, Vicki. No, don’t turn your head away.”
Somehow now, both her hands were in his, the green eyes close enough to see yellow flecks, his mouth curved to tenderness. “All these weeks I did what Bill asked. I held back and focused on the mission because that’s why I was here and what it took. But the mission is over, and I don’t want to let you just walk out of my life. Is there any chance I can come see you in Washington?”
The amber light of her eyes, the warm delight of her smile gave Vicki’s answer.
Joe’s hands crushed Vicki’s too tight, and she heard in his voice a diffidence she’d never heard before. “I’ve got to tell you, I can’t offer much. Like Abraham, I’ve been a bit of a wanderer all my life. And Bill’s right—my job isn’t so safe, and I never know where it’ll take me next—”
Vicki covered his mouth. Softly, she said, “Shut up and kiss me.”
He did.
.Over Lake Izabal the sun was finally shooting its bright radiance above the jungle canopy. If the two on the rock outcropping didn’t notice its arrival, around them birdsong was rising in noisy chorus to greet the morning. Overhead the troop of monkeys chattered its own celebration.
And down below on the plateau, standing hand in hand, two small girls in
huipiles
and black braids, a glimmer of healing smile in their black eyes, tilted wondering faces to its glory
This is my Father’s world.
The man behind the desk looked up as he walked in but didn’t stop turning pages of the file he was reading. “So you made it back. Took you long enough.”
He hooked a straight-backed chair with his foot. “Yes, well, I had to take a roundabout route.”
A page turned. “So I gathered. The old man isn’t too happy about what he’s been seeing on the news.”
He shrugged as he sat down. “Sometimes an op goes down without a hitch; sometimes it hits the fan. You know that. Looks like you’ve handled damage control well enough.”
“No thanks to you. You do realize you’re dead. You’ll never be able to work with an open cover again.”
Another shrug. “I did what I had to do. I’d do it again. I
will
do it if it proves necessary.”
Several more pages turned. “Yes, well, I’m told you need a new passport, a new name, a new assignment.” It was a statement, not a query.
Stretching out long legs, he waited.
After a moment the file closed. The man behind the desk folded his hands on top of the folder. “So—how’s your Persian?”
~The End~
Jeanette Windle
As daughter of missionary parents, award-winning author and journalist
Jeanette Windle
grew up in the rural villages, jungles, and mountains of Colombia, now guerrilla hot zones. Her detailed research and writing is so realistic that it has prompted government agencies to question her to determine if she has received classified information. Currently based in Lancaster, PA, Jeanette has lived in six countries and traveled in more than thirty on five continents. Those experiences have birthed 16 international intrigue titles, including bestselling Tyndale House Publishers release Veiled Freedom, a 2010 ECPA Christian Book Award and Christy Award finalist and sequel Freedom's Stand, a 2012 ECPA Christian Book Award and Carol Award finalist and 2011 Golden Scroll Novel of the Year finalist. Jeanette mentors developing nation writers in both English and Spanish on all five continents.
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