They turned down Calle Santa Maria, and the noises of the fight behind them gradually diminished. Two blocks away they came to a large church, the Iglesia Santa Maria. Lucia ran up the steps, opened the door, and peered inside. The church was deserted.
"We'll be safe in here," she said.
They walked into the dimness of the church, Rubio still holding his stomach.
"We can rest for a while."
"Yes."
Rubio let his hand fall away from his stomach, and blood came gushing out.
Lucia felt sick. "My God! What happened?"
"A knife," Rubio whispered. "He used a knife." He slumped to the floor.
Lucia knelt at his side, panicky. "Don't move."
She removed his shirt and pressed it against his stomach, trying to stem the flow of blood. Rubio's face was chalk white.
"You shouldn't have fought them, you idiot," Lucia said angrily.
His voice was a slurred whisper. "I could not let them speak to you that way."
I could not let them speak to you that way.
Lucia was touched as she had never been touched before. She stood there staring at him and thought: How many times has this man risked his life for me?
"I won't let you die," she said fiercely. "I'm not going to let you die." She stood up abruptly. "I'll be right back."
She found water and towels in the priest's changing room in the rear of the church and she bathed Rubio's wound. His face was hot to the touch, and his body was soaked in perspiration. Lucia put cold towels on his forehead. Rubio's eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep. She cradled his head in her arms and talked to him. It did not matter what she said. She was talking to keep him alive, forcing him to hold on to the thin thread of his existence. She babbled on, afraid to stop for even a second.
"We'll work your farm together, Rubio. I want to meet your mother and sisters. Do you think they'll like me? I want them to, so much. And I'm a good worker, caro. You'll see. I've never worked on a farm, but I'll learn. We'll make it the best farm in all of Spain."
She spent the afternoon talking to him, bathing his fevered body, changing the dressing. The bleeding had almost stopped.
"You see, carol You're getting better. You're going to be well. I told you. You and I will have such a wonderful life together, Rubio. Only, please don't die. Please!"
She found that she was weeping.
Lucia watched the afternoon shadows paint the church walls through the stained-glass windows and slowly fade away. The setting sun dimmed the sky and finally it was dark. She changed Rubio's bandage again and, so close that it startled her, the church ell began to ring. She held her breath and counted. One...three...five...seven...eight. Eight o'clock. It was calling her, telling her it was time to return to the Casa de Empenos. Time to escape from this nightmare and save herself.
She knelt down beside Rubio and felt his forehead again. He was burning with fever. His body was soaked with perspiration and his breathing was shallow and rasping. She could see no sign of bleeding, but that could mean he was bleeding internally. Goddamn it. Save yourself, Lucia.
"Rubio...darling..."
He opened his eyes, only half conscious.
"I have to leave for a little while," Lucia said.
He gripped her hand. "Please..."
"It's all right," she whispered. "I'll be back."
She rose and took a long last look at him. I can't help him, she thought.
She picked up the gold cross and turned and hurried out the church door, her eyes filled with tears. She stumbled out onto the street and began to walk rapidly, heading toward the pawnshop. The man and his cousin would be there waiting for her with her passport to freedom. In the morning, when church services begin, they'll find Rubio and get him to a doctor. They'll treat him and he'll get well Except that he will not live through the night, Lucia thought. Well, that's not my problem.
The Casa de Empenos was just ahead. She was only a few minutes late. She could see that the lights were on in the shop. The men were waiting for her.
She began to walk faster, then she was running. She crossed the street and burst through the open door.
Inside the police station, a uniformed officer was behind the desk. He looked up as Lucia appeared.
"I need you," Lucia cried. "A man has been stabbed. He may be dying."
The policeman did not ask questions. He picked up a telephone and spoke into it. When he put the phone down, he said, "Someone will be with you in a moment."
Two detectives appeared almost immediately.
"Someone has been stabbed, senorita"
"Yes. Please follow me. Hurry!"
"We'll pick up the doctor on the way," one of the detectives said. "Then you can take us to your friend."
They picked up the doctor at his home and Lucia hurried the group to the church.
When they entered the church the doctor walked over to the still figure on the floor and knelt beside him.
A moment later he looked up. "He's alive, but barely. I'll call for an ambulance."
Lucia sank to her knees and said silently, Thank you, God. I've done all I can. Now let me get away safely and I'll never bother you again.
One of the detectives had been staring at Lucia all the way to the church. She looked so familiar. And then he suddenly realized why. She bore an uncanny resemblance to the picture in the Red, the top-priority circulation from Interpol.
The detective whispered something to his companion and they both turned to study her. Then the two of them walked over to Lucia.
"Excuse me, senorita. Would you be good enough to come back to the station with us? We have a few questions we wish to ask you."