“The doctor said Dorian can’t have dairy yet,” Mrs. Collins protested.
“I can so,” Dorian immediately said.
Dorian moaned, the others laughed, and Aurora accepted the carton and spoon Donna offered her. “Cherry chocolate chip?”
“Of course.”
Aurora dug in, basking in the smiling faces around her. Family, friends...how could I ever have left this behind? I was so young, so determined, still a child in many ways—but that’s the past. Time to live in the present, with thoughts of the future.
“Have either of you seen Jordan?” she asked.
“He dropped Gerald and Tanya off downtown at Juvie,” Neil told her. “Gerald called me—said the place looks good. Much better than he expected, and with a good in-house educational program. Tanya has a chance to catch up on her schooling.”
Dorian and her mother held hands for support as Mrs. Collins said, “At least she’s out of Mexico and that terrible jail, thanks to my eldest.”
“Hear, hear,” Dorian replied. She bravely held her cup of tea up in the air. “To Rory—our woman of the year.”
Everyone managed a soft cheer, wary of the hospital atmosphere and Aurora’s ears.
Neil spoke up. “The last of the good news is in, thanks to Jordan and yours truly. Mexico is willing to drop all charges against our merry band of jailbreakers and escapees in exchange for the two crewman aboard the Mako. Seems they’ve not only been involved in some major smuggling, they also stole a boat from a major Mexican official. Other than Tanya, no one else in your family or the Ortega family will be held liable or prosecuted.”
“A toast to Jordan and Neil,” Mr. Collins said.
Cups of gelatin, broth and tea were raised in a toast. Donna and Neil engaged in a kiss that had Aurora wishing for the same with Jordan.
Aurora lifted her spoon of ice cream, one part of her happy for her family, the other still wondering...
Where is Jordan?
Mission San Diego de Alcala
Old Mission Chapel, evening
JORDAN FOLDED a ten-dollar bill in fourths and slid it through the narrow slot of the offertory box. He then reached for a candle taper, lit it from a half-burned candle and lit first one, then a second, and finally a third of the new candles in the front row. Some tourists who had earlier snapped photos of the main altar watched curiously.
Jordan performed the ritual unselfconsciously—a ritual that was a traditional part of his family’s past. He remembered lighting candles as a child, hoping for the safe return of family members at sea. It was a ritual that held comfort for him now.
The first candle blazed for Roberto and his family. Roberto, his mother, his sister and new brother, Alfonso, had been sponsored by the Mission itself for long-term visas. Roberto’s mother would complete the paperwork, the physical and the necessary shots to be certified as a food-service worker and child-care attendant. The orphanage had a high turnover of cooks, yet many small mouths remained to be fed. His sister, Yadira, would be attending the Mission school, and Alfonso would room at the orphanage, where the whole family would be lodged for now.
The second candle he lit for Tanya. The girl had suffered much, but as the saying went, some people had to learn things the hard way. Tanya’s actions had caused serious repercussions for her parents, her aunt, and had indirectly caused the deaths of Flores and one of his henchmen. The near loss of her family and the loss of Aurora’s ability to dive wouldn’t be easy for Dorian’s daughter to live with, Jordan suspected. Yet Tanya had pulled herself back from the edge of disaster and begun again. She had courage.
The third candle flickered weakly for Aurora. Jordan didn’t miss the symbolism. His chest felt heavy with despair. He’d heard the doctor’s diagnosis. Aurora would never dive again, and he knew who she would blame.
Me and my bright idea with the helicopter. Because of that stupid galleon, she lost her boat, her hearing, her job and her livelihood. She must hate me. How can I ask her to remain my partner? Become my wife? Share in having the children I’ve wanted for so long? Even the millions that emerald necklace is worth won’t undo what’s been done. I can’t face her. How can I walk away when she tells me to leave? I haven’t felt this lost, this scared, since the hurricane.
He continued to sit in despair until a voice said, “Excuse me, but touring hours are