But to Megan, the most compelling of the group was Jaime Miro. There was a relentless strength about him, an unshakable faith in his beliefs that reminded Megan of the nuns in the convent.
When they began the journey, Jaime, Amparo, and Felix were carrying sleeping bags and rifles on their shoulders.
"Let me carry one of the sleeping bags," Megan suggested.
Jaime Miro had looked at her in surprise, then shrugged. "All right, Sister."
He handed her the bag. It was heavier than Megan had expected, but she did not complain. As long as I'm with them, I'm going to do my share.
It seemed to Megan that they had been walking forever, stumbling through the darkness, getting hit by branches, scratched by underbrush, attacked by insects, guided only by the light of the moon.
Who are these people? Megan wondered. And why are they being hunted? Because Megan and the other nuns were also being pursued, she felt a strong rapport with her new companions.
There was little talking, but from time to time they held cryptic conversations.
"Is everything set at Valladolid?"
"Right, Jaime. Rubio and Tomas will meet us at the bank during the bullfight."
"Good. Send word to Largo Cortez to expect us. But don't give him a date."
"Comprendo."
Who are Largo Cortez and Rubio and Tomas? Megan wondered. And what was going to happen at the bullfight and the bank? She almost started to ask, but thought better of it. I have a feeling they wouldn't welcome a lot of questions.
Near dawn they smelled smoke from the valley below them.
"Wait here," Jaime whispered. "Be quiet."
They watched as he made his way toward the edge of the forest and disappeared from sight.
Megan said, "What is it?"
"Shut up!" Amparo Jiron hissed.
Fifteen minutes later Jaime Miro returned.
"Soldiers. We'll circle around them."
They backtracked for half a mile, then moved cautiously through the woods until they reached a side road. The countryside stretched out ahead of them, redolent with the odors of mowed hay and ripe fruit.
Megan's curiosity got the better of her. "Why are the soldiers looking for you?" she asked.
Jaime said, "Let's say we don't see eye to eye."
And she had to be satisfied with that. For now, she thought. She was determined to know more about this man.
Half an hour later, when they reached a sheltered clearing, Jaime said, "The sun's up. We'll stay here until nightfall." He looked at Megan. "Tonight we're going to have to travel faster."
She nodded. "Very well."
Jaime took the sleeping bags and rolled them out.
Felix Carpio said to Megan, "You take mine, Sister. I'm used to sleeping on the ground."
"It's yours," Megan said. "I couldn't - "
"For Christ's sake," Amparo snapped. "Get in the bag. We don't want you to keep us up screaming about goddamned spiders." There was an animosity in her tone that Megan did not understand.
Without another word, Megan climbed into the sleeping bag. What's bothering her? she wondered.
Megan watched as Jaime unrolled his sleeping bag a few feet away from where she lay, then crawled into it. Amparo Jiron crawled in beside him. I see, Megan thought.
Jaime looked over at Megan. "You'd better get some sleep," he said. "We have a long way ahead of us."
Megan was awakened by a moaning. It sounded as though someone were in terrible pain. She sat up, concerned. The sounds were coming from Jaime's sleeping bag. He must be terribly ill, was her first thought.
The moaning was getting louder, and then Megan heard Amparo Jiron's voice saying, "Oh, yes, yes. Give it to me, querido. Harder! Yes! Now! Now!"
And Megan's face flushed. She tried to close her ears to the sounds she was hearing, but it was impossible. And she wondered what it would be like to have Jaime Miro make love to her.
Instantly Megan crossed herself and began to pray: Forgive me, Father. Let my thoughts be filled only with You. Let my spirit seek You that it may find its source and good in You.
And the sounds went on. Finally, when Megan thought she would be unable to bear it an instant longer, they stopped. But there were other noises keeping her awake. The sounds of the forest ricocheted around her. There was a cacophony of mating birds and crickets and the chattering of small animals and the guttural growlings of larger ones. Megan had forgotten how noisy the outside world could be. She missed the wonderful silence of the convent. To her own astonishment, she even missed the orphanage. The terrible, wonderful orphanage...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
avila
1957
They called her "Megan the Terror."
They called her "Megan the Blue-eyed Devil."
They called her "Megan the Impossible."
She was ten years old.
She had been brought to the orphanage when she was an infant, having been left on the doorstep of a farmer and his wife who were unable to care for her.
The orphanage was an austere, two-story, whitewashed building on the outskirts of avila, in the poorer section of the city, off the Plaza de Santo Vicente. It was run by Mercedes Angeles, an Amazon of a woman with a fierce manner that belied the warmth she felt toward her wards.
Megan looked different from the other children, an alien with blond hair and bright blue eyes, standing out in stark contrast to the dark-eyed, dark-haired children. But from the beginning, Megan was different in other ways as well. She was a fiercely independent child, a leader, a mischief-maker. Whenever there was trouble at the orphanage, Mercedes Angeles could be certain that Megan was at the bottom of it.
Over the years, Megan led riots protesting the food, she tried to form the children into a union, and she found inventive ways to torment the supervisors, including half a dozen escape attempts. Needless to say, Megan was immensely popular with the other children. She was younger than many of them, but they all turned to her for guidance. She was a natural leader. And the younger children loved to have Megan tell them stories. She had a wild imagination.