River of Secrets. Lynette Eason
together, building the opposite wall. The two had hit it off pretty well despite their age difference. The wall was coming together and the wing should be finished before too long.
He slammed the hammer onto the nail. Bam.
And the memory was there. He jerked, sat with a thump on the wooden floor. The jungle smell—wet, fresh, teeming with life. He hefted the machete and chopped another vine out of his path. Men followed. The mansion sat just ahead. The other SEALs were in the water. His job was to disarm the alarm system. Someone else listened in on everything as he monitored the mission.
“You almost done with that part of the wall?”
Juan whirled to find Romero, the orphanage’s resident handyman, standing behind him. A large dark man in a sweat-drenched white tank top, the tattoo on his left upper bicep rippled on top of bulging muscles. His tool belt hung low on his lean hips, and his white teeth flashed in the blazing sun, competing with the gleam of matching gold in his nose and ear.
The memory still spun through Juan’s mind like a movie out of control. He cleared his throat and said, “Uh, yeah. Just taking a little break.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel he kept stuffed in the back pocket of his green cargo shorts.
Why was he tramping through the jungle with a team of SEALs? Where was the mansion that he could now picture in detail? Had he been a SEAL?
“Miss Anna sent this out to you.” Romero handed Juan a plastic cup full of ice-cold lemonade. He downed it in one swallow, his mind still rippling from the memory. “Obrigado.”
“Welcome.”
Thunder rumbled, and Romero looked at the sky. “Storm’s coming.”
Juan peered up through a break in the canopy above him and eyed the restless sky that only moment ago had been cloudy but sunny. Now the clouds rolled and swirled, obliterating the sun. Thunder boomed and a flash of lightning encouraged him to hurry and put away his tools.
He called to the teens who were packing up, “Come on guys, we’re done here. Let’s get inside before we get soaked—or electrocuted.”
The young men wasted no time gathering their things, and the four of them headed for the plastic door that led to the newly renovated main building. Salvador walked beside him down the brightly lit hallway. “How’re you doing, Sal?”
Salvador’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “All right, I guess.”
“How’s Carlita? Has she spoken yet?”
Salvador took a deep breath. “She will be fine. She will speak when she is ready. Everyone just needs to stop trying to force her. She is my family. I will take care of her.”
The intensity of the young man’s words hit Juan. He studied Salvador and saw the fierce love for his sister reflected there. “Maybe you’re right, Sal. We just want to see her get better, that’s all.”
Salvador swallowed hard, visibly forcing himself to relax. “I know, Senhor Juan, I just want to help her and don’t know how, sometimes it makes me…” He broke off and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
Juan’s heart ached for this brother of the young girl. So much responsibility at such a young age. He should be getting ready to graduate college, be enjoying his youth, discovering his place in the world. Instead, his family was dead and he had a little girl to raise. “I know. You’re doing a great job. Still, I wish she could see a child psychologist or some kind of counselor.”
Salvador threw his shoulders back and said, “Thank you for your concern, senhor. I think I will go see if she is ready to go to supper.”
Juan watched the young man branch off to the right to head down to the room he shared with his sister. That was one thing Juan really liked about this orphanage. They didn’t separate siblings. They kept them together as much as possible. Salvador and Carlita shared a suite with another brother and sister pair. It was a dorm-room design. Twin beds sat on opposite walls, with a bathroom in between the two rooms. There was a short wall that allowed privacy when changing clothes in the room. Each child had a chest of drawers and shared a small closet for hanging clothes. Some of the older teens even had televisions in their rooms that got certain approved channels from the satellite dish. Of course, if one wished to have living quarters separate from his or her sibling that could be arranged, too. Most orphanages had a boys’ living area and a girls’ living area.
Juan stepped inside the temporary tool storage room and set his tool belt on the shelf. The construction crew from Manaus had been hired to do most of the work with funds from donations, but Anna was very careful with the expenditures. By allowing some of the orphanage workers to help, it provided jobs for those who otherwise wouldn’t be working. And besides, construction out here in the jungle moved slowly. The intermittent storms often sent the main workers home early. But those laborers from the orphanage could wait out the storm and then go back to work.
Juan headed to his private staff room to shower and get ready for supper himself.
“Senhor?”
Juan stopped and turned. Jonathas approached him and asked, “Senhor, did you find out about the darts from the gym?”
Juan studied the young man. “No, we haven’t heard anything yet. Why?”
Jonathas shrugged. “I was just wondering.”
Was he really just wondering or was there more to it than that? After all, the darts were gone when he and Lucas arrived on the scene—and Jonathas was there. But he had a legitimate reason for being there. Juan himself had told the boy to come find him when he was ready to work on the orphanage wing. And yet…
Juan clapped Jonathas on the back and said, “I’ll let you know when I hear something.”
“Okay. See you at supper.” The boy turned back. “Oh, hey, don’t forget the picnic tomorrow.”
“What picnic?”
“The one I hear they have every year. They even have a dunking booth. Get ready to get soaked.” He disappeared around the corner.
Juan grumbled, “Oh, yeah, that picnic. Who says I’m gonna volunteer?”
The next morning, right before sunrise, Amy continued her daily tradition of her dockside quiet time. Her stomach was still in knots, and she needed some guidance. After calling the McKnight family again—and again getting no answer, she gathered her Bible and notebook and headed out, only to come across Jonathas in the jeep driving toward her. She called, “Good morning. You’re up early.”
The seventeen-year-old pulled up to a stop next to her and said, “Bom dia, senhorita. My morning routine. I am driving down to check on the cows.” The cattle meant a lot to the orphanage as they provided milk and meat. Often they were sold to raise money for other necessities that the orphanage needed in order to keep running efficiently.
Amy smiled. “You’re doing a great job, Jonathas.”
Bright white teeth flashed in the morning light. “Thank you.” He disappeared in a trail of dust, and Amy continued on to the dock. Walking to the end of the fifty-foot pier, she sat and looked out over the muddy brown water, catching glimpses of the wildlife that never ceased to amaze her. A caiman floated past. Then another. And another. Nocturnal creatures, it was still early enough for them to be out and about. They looked like alligators, their snouts skimming the top of the water.
The first time she’d had her quiet time out here, she’d had her legs hanging over the edge of the dock. Then she’d seen her early-morning companions and nearly had a coronary. Today, she didn’t even flinch. This was her favorite time of the day. The sun rose with a blend of orange, yellows and reds, first peeking above the horizon, then coming forth in its full glory to proudly display God’s handiwork. It never failed to take her breath away.
When the sun finished its climb, she pulled out her Bible and just sat without opening it. Instead, she went straight to