“And would you, Steve? Would you have followed me across the ocean?” She leaned back in his embrace to study his face, her eyes searching for signs of mockery.
“I’m here, aren’t I? Ginny love, try not to be so impatient. We’ve got the rest of our lives to be together.”
Bending, he scooped her into his arms and carried her inside the cabin. Ginny belatedly remembered Mr. Tyler as she got a glimpse of his pale, shocked face just before Steve slammed shut the door with his foot.
TURNING POINTS
43
Familiar heat seeped into Ginny’s bones as she stood on a small balcony enclosed with delicate wrought iron. The sheer curtains had been pulled back, and a light breeze lifted a heavy strand of her copper hair that was worn loose around her face and over her shoulders. She inhaled deeply. The early morning air of New Orleans was redolent with the scents of fresh pastry and the effusive sweetness of flowering plants. Later in the day, the humid stench of the streets would overpower such pleasant aromas, but now it was evocative of all she loved about the city.
Steve had gone to send a cable to London summoning the children home to America. Tante Celine would bring them, and soon they would all be reunited. At last she would see Laura and Franco again. This time, they would not be parted. They were going home, to Mexico, where they could live in peace and contentment.
A wistful smile curved her mouth. It was almost ten months since she had seen them. How much would they have grown? Impatience filled her, barely contained. But they would be reunited as soon as Tante could secure passage to New Orleans.
New Orleans was pleasant this time of year, before the summer heat grew brutal. They were staying at the elegant St. Louis Hotel in the heart of the carré de la ville. The small hotel situated at the intersection of Royal and St. Louis Street was very comfortable, a welcome change from the hardships she had so recently endured.
Yet she was not as relaxed as she might have been. An undercurrent of apprehension threaded her mood. Steve was more attentive than he had ever been, their love stronger than she had ever thought possible, yet she was strangely uneasy.
“You’ll be fine once the children are safely with us,” Steve had said when she mentioned her foreboding to him. “All that’s happened in the last months is making you so nervous, Ginny.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” she’d murmured, but the anxiety did not dissipate.
Sonya echoed her concerns over lunch at Antoine’s the next day, her normally placid face creased in a slight frown as she regarded her stepdaughter.
“It’s so far for the children to be traveling, Ginny. I do hope your aunt exercises extreme caution with them.”
“I’m certain she will, Sonya.” Ginny’s white china coffee cup trimmed in gold clattered slightly as she replaced it in the matching saucer. The coffee was strong and hot, much too hot to be drinking when it was so warm outside. A lovely breeze wafted in through open shutters, doors flung wide to admit cooler air, but not even the huge fans that whirred overhead could keep the heat at bay. Insects droned fitfully despite the precautions of fly traps and netting. “Tante Celine is quite accustomed to handling the children.”
Sonya nodded. “It’s probably fortunate that I never had any children of my own. I’m afraid I would be far too protective of them.”
It was an indirect reprimand, a reminder that Ginny had been away from her children too often and for too long. Her mouth tightened slightly, and she wished she had not agreed to meet her stepmother for lunch. It was obvious that Sonya was in one of her contentious moods.
“Since you feel that way, it probably is best that you were never able to have children. More coffee?”
Blue eyes narrowed slightly as Sonya shook her head. “No, it is much too warm for coffee. When will you be returning to Mexico, my dear? I don’t understand why you insist upon living in such an uncivilized, brutal country when you could stay in Louisiana, or even Texas.”
“At the moment, bands of renegade Apache are making Texas a rather dangerous place. With the current situation of raids on farms and even large ranches, Mexico is just as safe as Texas.” Ginny glanced up at the sommelier who had brought a bottle of chilled white wine to their table.
Silence fell between them as the wine replaced coffee, and when the waiter had retreated, Ginny leaned forward. “If you have valid reasons for your concerns, please share them with me, Sonya. I know we have never been true friends, but I always thought you generous enough to confide in me.”
For a moment, Sonya did not reply, but sipped at her wine, no hint of her thoughts showing on her face. When at last she lifted her gaze, her eyes were troubled.
“I don’t know why I feel so…so apprehensive, but I do. Have you spoken with your father lately?”
“No, not since I last saw him in San Antonio. He looked unwell.” She lay her fork against the edge of the plate, her salmon mousse barely touched. “Is he still in Texas?”
Instead of answering, Sonya looked down at her hands. A linen napkin in her lap was twisted into a coil as she wrung it with surprising ferocity. Then she looked up, her mouth thinned into a determined line.
“I don’t know where he is, Ginny. He’s disappeared. I’m afraid he has done something—inexcusable.”
“What are you talking about? If you’re referring to his business dealings in Mexico, I know all about that now. Steve told me what I hadn’t already guessed. But I’ve always known how unscrupulous he can be, how ruthless, when it comes to power
