“Where are you and Lydia heading?”
“We’re going to a safe house in Tampa. Now, let’s start working out the details.”
****
Beth walked into the hospital room where Lydia and her parents were waiting.
“My Baby, come here.” Beth was swept up into her mother’s arms. Lydia was sitting in the chair by the window, her dad stood next to her, looking grim.
“I don’t like this,” he said in Spanish.
“English, Papa.”
“It doesn’t matter, they’re taking both of my babies from me,” Lydia’s mother said tearfully. She hugged Beth closer. “Where are you going my daughter?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Please Beth,” their mother started to cry. Beth looked over her mother’s shoulder at Lydia with a helpless look on her face.
“Mama, you know the rules. This is to keep us safe.” Lydia got up from the chair slowly, and wrapped her arms around the two women who meant the world to her.
“I can’t stand the thought of being separated from my babies.”
“They said we could call one another,” Lydia reminded her. She brushed a kiss against her mother’s cheek.
“And you’re barely out of a hospital bed. Who’s going to take care of you?” For the first time since she entered the room, there was a glimmer of a smile on Beth’s face.
“Lydia is going with Clint Archer. He’s going to be taking care of her.”
“He is?” Her mother pulled back so she could look at Lydia. “Where are you going?” Both girls groaned.
“Mama, I can’t tell you that.”
“Gloria, my love, ask your daughters a different question.” Lydia looked over her shoulder and realized her father hadn’t moved from his spot near the window. He still looked morose.
“I would tell you where we were going if I knew.”
Beth laughed. “That’s probably why they haven’t told you yet, Mama.”
“Papa, are you all right?” Lydia asked.
“Oh sure I’m just fine. My daughter was almost murdered, now we are being separated. It is still likely that even if I testify, we will all be killed. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
“Ricardo! That is not going to happen. You must have faith in God.”
“God is falling down on the job, Gloria.”
Her mother crossed herself.
“Please, don’t fight,” Beth begged.
“God saved Lydia. We’ll all be protected. I’ll not hear this blasphemy anymore.” Her father shrank before her very eyes. He walked over to them, and put his arms around his little family.
“I am sorry my love. You are right. All will be well.”
“I have to go.” Their father took Beth into his arms and hugged her tight, and Beth burst into tears. He handed her off to Lydia.
“Do what they say. They will protect you with their lives.” Beth wiped her eyes and looked at her sister.
“Please don’t let this opportunity go to waste,” Beth said looking pointedly at Lydia. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.” Lydia held onto Beth just a little longer.
“You deserve happiness too, Beth. I love you.”
Chapter Six
“You’ve never been on a road trip?”
Clint looked at her like she said she never heard of peanut butter.
“We lived in the city. Sometimes not in the best part of the city. When we went on holiday, it was to our grandparents’ in the country. It was an hour north. Does that count?”
“No! You have to stop at gas stations and buy junk food. You have to eat at greasy spoons. You have to stop at tourist traps.”
“I understood gas stations and junk food. What is a greasy spoon and a tourist trap?” Clint opened the passenger door of the black SUV and helped her inside. He made sure she was buckled in.
“Are you comfortable? Here is how you lower your seat back. Why don’t you get some rest before we get to the first greasy spoon?”
“What is a greasy spoon?” Lydia asked as Clint got into the driver’s seat.
“It has to be experienced sweetheart.” He pulled out of the hotel parking lot. She had been taken by ambulance to the hotel hours earlier, in order to throw any potential pursuers off track. Currently she was wearing a scarf around her head, sunglasses, and clothes two sizes too big for her.
Somehow Clint had morphed into a stereotypical suburban husband. It must have been the polo shirt and khaki pants, or it could have been the way he was carrying himself. But he no longer looked like the warrior she knew him to be.
“Tampa, huh? How long to get there?”
“We’re going to take it slow. We’ll get there in three days. I want to make sure we take it easy.” They were already on the freeway and he was going eighty miles an hour.