“So what is this not-exactly-a-nightmare about?”
–and tenacity.
Kendra sighed. “It’s . . . the hurricane.”
“That’s all?” Ellyn said. “The hurricane?’
“Don’t you think that’s enough? I could have been killed. It was the most frightened I’ve been in my life.” Her laugh grated on her own ears. “And it was the stupidest I’ve been in my life. I should have left with my crew instead of hanging around trying to get a scoop on Taumaturgio.”
“Taumaturgio?” Ellyn stumbled over the pronunciation.
“It means miracle worker. A legend on Santa Estella. Sort of a cross between the Scarlet Pimpernel and Robin Hood. Some authorities there were incredibly corrupt, lining their pockets with proceeds from aid meant for the island’s children. Taumaturgio ‘liberated’ supplies before the officials could sell them, and he took them to the children. He also flew kids who desperately needed specialized medical care into the United States–highly illegal. But the doctors who treated the kids weren’t about to turn him in.”
“Sounds like someone worth knowing,” Ellyn said.
“Certainly someone worth doing a story on,” Kendra said dryly. “Oh, how I wanted to do the story . . . But that’s a pretty weak excuse for being stupid.”
“Some stupid things have good results.” Ellyn glanced toward the spread of snapshots taken at Matthew’s birthday.
“Yes.” Kendra looked at the laughing face of her son, caught by the camera as he stood on a chair contemplating the possibility he could defy nature and fly. He was a miracle in every minute of her life. She would never–could never–regret having him.
That didn’t change her stupidity. Barely two days of madness had turned her practical life upside down.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Ellyn asked.
“About what?”
“The dream.”
“Not sleep?” Kendra suggested.
“Looks like you’ve tried that. I should have said about making the dream stop.”
“Believe me, I tried. I’ve given up. So I lose some sleep. I’ll survive. I was tired when Matthew was a newborn and when he was teething and God knows I’ve been tired since he started walking–”
“I told you to enjoy the peace when he was crawling,” said Ellyn. “Wait until he goes to school and comes home with his first bloody nose.”
“Hellfire, wait until he goes on his first date,” added Marti, who’d gone through that phase as surrogate mother to Amy.
Kendra groaned, then they all shared a grin.
“But I suspect that doesn’t have anything to do with this dream,” Marti said. Oh, yes, she had tenacity to spare.
“It’s not–”
“You should go after him.”
Ellyn’s pronouncement surprised Kendra into an unguarded, “What?”
“You should go after Paulo.’
“Who’s Paulo?” Marti asked.
“I don’t know,” Ellyn admitted. “But I’ve got some ideas.”
They both turned to Kendra, who said, “He’s no one.”
“Okay,” Ellyn said. “You have no reason to tell me who Paulo is, but I know he’s not no one, because that’s the name you call out like your heart’s breaking right before you wake up. But I do understand if you don’t want to talk abo–”
“No, Ellyn, you don’t understand. He’s really no one. He doesn’t exist. I mean, the man exists. Or he did. The man who . . . Let’s just say Hurricane Aretha brought us together, and when it passed, there was no reason to stay together.”
“Wasn’t there?” Ellyn asked with a significant look toward the den doorway where Matthew and Emily were visible.
“You’re right. He was Matthew’s father. But Paulo doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t understand.” Marti said.
“I’m not sure I understand myself,” Kendra admitted. “He rescued me, he kept me safe–” He gave me Matthew. “And afterward, he took me back to the American consulate and disappeared.”
“He just disappeared?” Marti’s voice was harsh.
“I asked at the consulate–but no one knew him. I was evacuated from the island as soon as they repaired the runways. When I got back to the States I tried to forget. It should have been easy, because the ironic thing is my reports on the hurricane did for my career what I’d hoped the Taumaturgio story could do. Then, I found out I was pregnant . . .”
She remembered shaking as she’d dialed Marti’s phone number. Marti had simply said to come home to Far Hills.
“I tried to contact him. I advertised he had a reward coming. I called the consulate and asked for help finding a man named Paulo Ayudor. The storm killed a thousand people, and more died afterward, and I wondered . . . But he wasn’t on any of the lists. Nothing.”
“You mean you told the consulate you were expecting the man’s child, and they didn’t help?”
“I didn’t tell the consulate official. It was none of his business, besides . . .”
“You weren’t sure if Paulo would run even further,” Ellyn filled in softly.
Kendra didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. So many times she’d wondered if Paulo had seen her efforts to contact him . . .
“You feared he would turn his back on his child.”
Marti’s voice sounded a little odd to Kendra, but Ellyn didn’t seem to notice, asking, “What happened?”
“The man at the consulate shunted me off to local officials. One told me Paulo Ayudor was the name of a character in island folklore. Santa Estella’s Johnny Appleseed. Only he planted miracles–helping people in their direst hour of need. A close relation,” she said with a twist to her mouth, “of Taumaturgio.”
Ellyn’s eyes widened. “Oh, my . . . You mean Paulo was–”
“I don’t know. I’ve wondered. From the little description I got of Taumaturgio, it could have been. How would that be for irony? The man I’d sought all over Santa Estella was the one who ended up–”
Sound erupted from the small room off the kitchen.
“Mermaid!” declared Emily.
“No!” responded Matthew with his new favorite word. “No Mermay! No. No!”
Kendra and Marti swooped in and efficiently settled the dispute with the Solomon-like option of putting both children down for naps in Matthew’s room. They sat down again only to have the front door bell ring.
“Who on earth . . . ?” Locals used the kitchen door.
“Must be somebody who got lost,” Marti suggested.
“Or a salesman. I’ll get rid of him.” Kendra started to rise, but Ellyn put her hand on her shoulder as she passed behind
