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It wasn’t that God had deserted her when her baby died and when her marriage fell apart. He’d simply known all along that Doug was not her future—Amos was.
Amazing. She snuggled closer to him, reveling in his forgiveness and the safety of his embrace. Never in a million years would she have thought that the terse Navy SEAL who’d rescued her from the wine cellar in the old cathedral would become someone she wished to spend her life with. Only God could have known that. The loss of Doug’s baby would always grieve her, but it made more sense to her now. She would never have gone to Venezuela if she hadn’t suffered that loss. She would never have met Amos.
“Hey,” he spoke into her ear, pulling her from her introspection. “What I meant to say earlier was: I love you, too, Grace.”
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “I know.”
The intrepid little boat sped them over tourmaline waters toward their future.
CHAPTER20
“Good morning.” Fitz glanced up from Faith’s kitchen table, where Olivia had been talking his ear off for the past hour and a half. Grayson had finally ventured into the kitchen, freeing Fitz to head off to work. He hadn’t wanted to leave the six-year-old on her own while her brother slept in.
Grayson did not return his greeting. He marched over to the fridge and pulled it open.
Fitz stood. “Pancakes are in the microwave. Takes twenty seconds to warm them up.” It was the third or fourth meal he’d fixed for them on Faith’s old gas stove.
Grayson pulled out the bottle of orange juice Fitz had bought last night, twisted off the lid, and drank straight from the bottle.
“Does your mother let you do that?” Fitz kept his tone light.
Grayson lowered the bottle without looking at him and screwed the lid back on. “When is Mom coming home?”
It was the same question he had asked the day before. “Soon. Probably tomorrow.” Fitz had a crick in his neck from sleeping on Faith’s sofa for three nights. He had cooked and cleaned and played Junior Monopoly and Where’s My Cupcake with Olivia more times than he wanted to count. He’d asked Grayson if he could join him in playing Team Fortress 2, but the boy had ignored the suggestion, just like he was ignoring him now. Fitz’s attempt to play a role in their lives was going badly.
“Listen, I have to go to work, but I’ll be back this evening.”
Grayson shut the refrigerator forcefully and crossed to the stove. “You don’t have to.” He stabbed at the buttons on the microwave. “I can watch Olivia myself.”
Fitz stared at the boy’s rigid back. What was it going to take to win his acceptance? “Your mother asked me to look out for you and to help you care for the horses, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
Grayson kept his back turned as he watched the countdown on the microwave. “Has anyone heard from my aunt yet?”
“Ah, yes. I meant to tell you I just got a text from my contact in Team Six that she was pulled safely out of Venezuela and is headed now to Colombia to get a visa for her new son. She’ll fly back as soon as she’s got it.”
Some of the tension went out of Grayson’s shoulders. “Finally.”
“Yes, it’s very good news.” Realizing that Faith’s near brush with death had pulled the rug out from under Grayson, much the same way as his father’s death must have done, Fitz summoned some compassion for him. “Things will go back to normal soon. Don’t you worry.”
The reassurance earned him a thoughtful glance.Progress,Fitz thought.
“Well, I gotta run. You two use good judgment. If you don’t mind putting your dishes in the dishwasher when you’re done, that’d be great. I’ll help you muck the stables when I get back this evening. The less your mother has to do when she comes home, the better.”
Grayson sent him a faint nod.
“Bye, Mr. Fitz.” Olivia waved sticky fingers at him.
Sending her a wink, Fitz swiveled on the balls of his polished dress shoes and headed for the door, picking up his wallet and car keys on the way.
No wonder the old skin horse didn’t have any fur left. Faith was right. Being real wasn’t going to be easy.
* * *
Grace carried Mateo out of Hotel Montecarlo with the backpack on her back and a twinge in her spine. Carrying the preschooler everywhere they went wasn’t easy, but he clung to her ferociously and would not agree to walk, not even when she held his hand tight.
If only Amos could have come with them to Bogotá, then he could have carried Mateo for her—assuming the little boy allowed that. But Amos had to fly back to Virginia with his men. To think that he’d never gone to Colombia in the first place! That had been his cover for the secret mission to collect a CIA agent named Zorra. Not for the first time did Grace shake her head in amazement that everything had worked out, even her ability to catch a ride from the aircraft carrier to Bogotá on a transport helicopter headed that way.
And now she was here, in this big, teeming city, headed for the U.S. Embassy, only two blocks from the hotel. She missed the added security of Amos’s presence. Like Caracas, Bogotá was nestled in a valley backed by mountains, only it was landlocked and not by the coast. She could sense the jungle breathing nearby, a living organism, the lungs of the world.
