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“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Anita.”
Grace’s former colleague had found international travel more to her liking than kids.
“Hi. What did you find?”
“Well, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
Nausea rolled through Grace. “Good news, please.” Her gaze strayed again to where she’d seen the swarthy soldier.
“I have you flying out of Virginia Beach on August 9th, into Bogotá Colombia, where you’ll catch a smaller plane that will take you to Puerto Ayacucho, Venezuela. You do realize your original visa is about to expire, right?”
“My visa?” Grace hadn’t given a thought to the date stamped into her passport back in June.
“Yes, by the time you arrive, you’ll only have five days left on it. Do you want me to adjust the dates?”
The phone went slippery in Grace’s hand. Encountering red tape was pretty much a norm in Venezuela. “Um, yes, can you get me there any sooner?”
“I can, but it’s going to cost another five hundred dollars.”
Grace pictured the exorbitant number on her credit card bill and swallowed hard. “That’s fine. When’s the soonest I can leave?”
Anita didn’t immediately answer. Grace could hear her typing away on the other end. “In ten days,” she finally said, “on August 3rd, the same way I just described. Do you want me to book it? There’s no refund, just a rescheduling fee.”
No refund. Grace noted the words and plunged in anyway. “Yes.” Mateo’s dossier ought to have arrived in the mail by then.
“Okay, Grace. I’ll email your confirmations and charge the card on file.” Anita sounded almost reticent. “You’re sure you don’t want me to book your return tickets?”
“No, not yet.” She had no idea whether Venezuela’s airports would still be open to flights.
Anita’s long silence betrayed her doubts. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, honey. There are travel advisories everywhere regarding Venezuela.”
“I know. I’ll be fine. Thanks for your help.” She hung up before Anita could sow any more doubts in her head.
Dropping her phone into her pool bag, Grace lay back on the lounge chair with even greater pressure on her chest. She went to pray for strength, only to remember that was pointless. Fine. No problem. She could do this on her own. Nothing and no one—a vision of Amos McLeod panned through her mind—could stop her from bringing her boy home. Not this time.
CHAPTER6
It would take years to claw her way out of debt.
With the scent of burnt toast hanging in the air, Grace sat at her breakfast bar, bills piled in front of her and red ink bleeding into the pad of paper on which she had tallied what she owed.
While out of the country last month, her online bill-pay hadn’t worked, so she’d missed a month’s payment on her mortgage, as well as her utilities. Her credit card debt was about to rise even higher because of her trip to Venezuela. And having paid World Adoption Agency every fee required to adopt Mateo, her savings account now stood at zero.
The negative number staring up at her made her stomach hurt.
You’re almost mine. The words from the soldier in her nightmares sounded in her head, causing her to suck in a fearful breath.
She’d had nothing to eat but toast for dinner, the only thing she could stomach. Her gritty eyes reminded her that she hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in ages, having developed a habit of watching the ten o’clock news in hopes of hearing of a swift end to the civil upheaval in Venezuela. If she kept this up much longer, she was going to have a nervous breakdown.
Get your finances in order,she cautioned herself,or you won’t have a home to offer Mateo when you bring him back.That thought prompted an idea: Why not rent out her condo for the short time she was away in Venezuela? There were always military families looking for a place to stay as they waited for base housing to become available.
Slightly encouraged, Grace dragged her cell phone closer and opened the Nextdoor App to create a listing.Furnished three-bedroom condominium close to all bases available for rent, August 3 to August 17—Would she be gone that long?—$600 per week.If she came back sooner, Faith would let her stay at the ranch.Plus $150 for utilities,she added, thinking of her A/C and water bills. Feeling more hopeful, she posted the listing, then set her phone aside.
The memory of Simon McLeod’s hesitant farewell replayed itself in her head.“G’bye, Mith Garrett.”
What a cutie. His sweet, needy stare tugged at her heartstrings. Of course, every time she thought of the boy, she envied his father for having him back. Her envy grew, gnawing at her like a tapeworm.
