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Chapter Fifty-one
“Miguel, are we close?” Jake had rented a jeep and was driving them to the area on the island where Miguel had directed him. Palm trees were everywhere, and the natural vegetation of the island left one with the impression of being surrounded by a variety of lush green flora.
Once they reached the outskirts of the city of St. George, narrow winding roads through the tropical rain forests prompted Jake’s next question. “Miguel, what kind of trees are those in that grove?”
“Gommier and Blue Mahoe, they’re everywhere. Turn here, Jake, on the next street. My house is at the end.”
“Were you finally able to reach anyone, Miguel?” Rylee fought off her depression long enough to inquire. She knew Miguel had been trying to reach his mother all morning, with no luck. He hadn’t been able to talk to their neighbor either. His worry had skyrocketed and infected both her and Jake.
It wasn’t until the morning debacle had been dealt with and Carl had agreed with Rylee it would be safe to drive Miguel home, that they’d realized the boy’s dilemma. His worry had rubbed off on them, and they were anxious as hell to find his family in good shape.
Once Jake pulled the car to the side of the dilapidated shack-like structure, Miguel flew out of the vehicle and raced to the steps calling, “Mamá, Mamá. Es Miguel; Dónde estás?”
Calling for her brought no reaction. Soon, the unoccupied appearance proved to be true, the mess in the kitchen area telling a story of a quick departure.
Miguel ran past them, outside to another larger structure nearby. Rylee tightened her fists, her worry escalating to ridiculous proportions in a matter of seconds. She looked at Jake and saw his concern before they followed the kid, protection uppermost in her mind.
A man came at a run, meeting Miguel halfway in the dusty road, while a woman followed slowly, carrying two babies, a bag over her shoulder.
Miguel skidded to a stop; his hands held out in front as if to ward off any bad news he sensed was waiting for him.
Spanish shot back and forth so rapidly that Rylee had a hard time trying to keep up, but Jake seemed to catch on immediately. “His mother was taken into the hospital yesterday. She’s bad, has pneumonia. They were worried she wouldn’t last until Miguel returned.”
The boy collapsed, hit the ground on his knees and let out a wail that stiffened every hair on Rylee’s body. Jake streaked forward and had the boy in his arms, while Miguel, shaking, sobbing, his pain overwhelming, cried out, “No! Dios mio, no.”
Rylee hurried to the couple who looked distraught. The woman in the background held onto the babies like they were a lifeline while the man answered Rylee’s demands for directions and blessed her for being there to help.
Shocking her to silence, the woman approached Rylee and placed the babies on an old tarp that covered a broken table next to her. In broken English, she muttered. “Bless you, Señorita. Praise God.”
Not understanding, Rylee let the woman give her the babies’ belongings – like there was any choice. With the bag slung over her shoulder, she reached for both the cuties, worried they would flip off the table, and before she knew what happened, the couple ran towards an ancient truck. A spurt of noxious fumes warned they had it started and within a few seconds, they’d disappeared around a corner.
“Miguel. What’s happening? They just left and dumped the babies like they couldn’t wait to escape.”
Miguel had finally quietened, probably because Jake had whispered promises of security, and he wasn’t alone facing this horrible dilemma.
“Si, Rylee. They can’t keep the babies. They have eight children of their own, and they live in a house smaller than this.”
She pointed to the place they’d come from. “This isn’t their house?”
“No. An old lady lives there that they work for. She says they can’t bring the babies there anymore. Juan and Angelina are too noisy. Those people, they have good hearts, and they’re good friends, Rylee, but they need the work.” He spread his hands out on both sides, a despondent look over the face of a boy whose responsibilities just made him a man. “What can they do?” Miguel walked over to her, wiped his tears and tried to smile at his sister and brother. They reached their plump arms to him, and he lifted first one for a kiss and then the other, murmuring all the while.
Jake came close enough for Rylee to ask, “Did you get directions for the hospital?”
“They said Miguel could guide us.”
“Then we need to go. If his mother’s condition is grave, we have to hurry. I only hope we’re in time.”
