Holly glanced at her, seeing how Tara’s eyes never left the players on the stage. ‘He looks well,’ she whispered slyly, feeling no need to elucidate which ‘he’ she was referring to. He was on crutches now, his arm seemingly healed.
‘Yes.’
‘Good suit.’
‘Yes.’
‘Always was a good colour on him.’
Tara didn’t respond.
‘. . . They’ve obviously been looking after him well,’ Holly persevered.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re obviously nuts about him.’
Tara wasn’t falling for her friend’s tricks – she knew them all too well. She gave Holly a look. ‘Behave,’ she hissed.
‘What? What’d I say?’ Holly asked with mock surprise.
Tara straightened up. ‘I haven’t seen or spoken to him in seven weeks, you know that.’ She kept her voice low, not wanting her mother, to her left, to overhear.
‘Oh, I know it. I sure know it, but I don’t frickin’ understand it!’ Holly hissed back. ‘They concluded the investigation weeks ago. Total exoneration.’
Tara nodded sadly. ‘I know.’ It still didn’t make her feel any better.
‘So? You could have come back out.’
‘I know I could, but I also knew I’d be coming out for this anyway.’ Tara shrugged lightly, but in truth she had needed every last minute before getting on the plane. No matter what her heart said, she couldn’t just run into the sunset with Alex when she had a whole life in London, with Rory. It was simplistic to think she and Alex could step straight into a happy ending after everything that had happened between them – and to them.
She saw Alex’s gaze cast up and settle upon her again. She was easy to find in this crowd, of course, front and centre, but she sensed he would find her anywhere: a crowd, a jungle. Twice. His eyes kept coming back to her, like a bee to a favourite flower, and each time it happened she felt that electric jolt . . . If she had tried to talk herself into doubting her feelings in London, they melted away here. She could feel the connection shimmer between them, the gravitational pull between his sun and her moon.
A riot of flashbulbs went off as her father and the President shook hands, sealing the deal that had been ten years and two months in the making. So many sacrifices had been made to make this happen – had it been worth it? A wave of cheers rose up and the applause lifted again as, with the formal ceremony over, people got up and began to mingle.
Miles and Zac went straight off to congratulate her father, leaving the three women happy to stay where they were, well away from the international press photographers.
‘Well, wasn’t that marvellous?’ her mother asked, turning to them both. ‘He’s finally done it. Maybe now we’ll get a little more peace.’ She was holding a small handheld fan and Miles had a tiny canister of mineral water in his jacket pocket to mist her on her cue; she didn’t take well to non-air-conditioned environments.
‘Congratulations, you’re almost poor, Mrs T,’ Holly grinned.
Samantha Tremain laughed. ‘Well, relatively speaking.’
‘Hey!’ Holly smiled suddenly as she saw someone approach them and Tara turned to find Jed making his way over.
‘Jed!’ she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him. ‘How are you?’
He knocked his head playfully. ‘Well, it hasn’t fallen off yet.’
She grinned. ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ Miguel D’Arrosto and five members of his team had been arrested the week of her rescue. Thanks to testimony from some of the other rangers – and film footage from some nature-watch cameras in certain trees – the charges against them had ranged from arson to theft, criminal damage and grievous bodily harm. No one had held out much hope for substantial prison sentences – in most cases, the evidence was purely circumstantial – but Tara hoped the severe fines issued might hurt more anyway. This had always been about money for them, as they came after anyone they believed to be getting in the way of their profits.
‘You?’ He looked down at her feet, in soft backless mules.
‘Raw feet, but make it fashion, am I right?’
He laughed at the sight of her red heels. She had been in bandages for three weeks in the end. The wheelchair had felt dramatic when they’d first brought it over to her, but even she had been stunned when she’d seen the state of her feet. Infected blisters and a cluster of leeches from where she’d lain in the mud had not made for a pretty sight.
‘T-t, I’ve got someone who’d like to say hello to you,’ Jed said, turning slightly so that she could see past him. Sarita was standing there, and holding her hand . . .
Tara fell to her knees, feeling overcome. ‘It’s lovely to meet you properly, Paco,’ she said quietly, in Spanish.
The boy smiled, dark-haired, big-eyed, pale as milk. He was still short for his age, and very thin – but not of the skin-and-bones quality she’d seen a few months earlier.
‘You look better. You are eating, I can see.’ Softly, she reached out and, with the crook of her finger, pushed against a plumping-up cheek.
Sarita gave a proud laugh and said something to Jed.
‘He is always eating!’ he translated. ‘Now he has started, he won’t stop.’
‘Well that’s wonderful! As it should be. He will grow into a strong, handsome man like his papa.’
‘Gracias, Senorita Tara,’ Paco said, and he held out a small plant, its roots carefully wrapped in a muslin cloth.
‘What is this?’ she asked in amazement.
‘For your heart vibrations,’ Jed said for him. ‘The Awa says this will make them strong again. When the sadness comes, take two leaves and rub them fast between your hand. When they are warm, place them on the chest, over your heart.’
Tara reached forward and kissed Paco
