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CHAPTER ONE

Elizabeth Pennington closed the heavy cypress door behind the last of her young students, shut her eyes and leaned her forehead against the thick wood She had a miserable headache froratifyingly noisy after the first feeeks of polite whispers, and what she needed most was a few quiet moments in her small, darkened room and a cool damp cloth on her forehead Father Pascal would be in the infir the people in this ser city of Puerto Claro – ear infections, dysentery, infected cuts, eyes and stomachs As soon as Beth had rested she’d head out to help him Father Pascal’s clinic was understaffed – until she’d volunteered with the Catholic Charities of Callivera he’d had no one but a couple of s fro lish Father Pascal only spoke French and Spanish, which s tricky, since Beth had only studied French and Latin in school and hadn’t done ith either

But her Spanish was colish The children had stronger motivation – she showed thee them, and music was an even h it still struck her as slightly odd when rail-thin, eight-year-old Manuela started singing, “what the bitches ith a …” Only fourteen year old Carlos had re her with a scarcely veiled contempt that bordered on hostility

Beth pushed away fro compound of Santa Luz was usually busy with the sound of children, with Father Pascal’s gentle drone, with the quiet chatter of the village women who’d come in to help But now all was still, which she could only count as a blessing

Except that she couldn’t She had good instincts, even if she’d never had to rely on theton Phar out for her, money to cushion every one of life’s more unpleasant moments Ever since she’d arrived in the tiny, war-torn country of Callivera seven er that never ca up with bodyguards and chauffeurs had been silly precautions

She quite desperately needed to lie down to get rid of this blistering headache And she would As soon as she checked on Father Pascal and ht

She est convent and mission on the eastern border of the country of Callivera The floors were spotless, swept clear every day, though the scent of rotting vegetation was strong in the air Most of the place was now deserted, and had been for more than twenty years when the Calliveran ar the current dictator and bringing their own brand of military control When three nuns had been raped and overnly allowed the mission to be reopened to help soes It had taken et pertonthe wheels, Beth would still be in Philadelphia, waiting

She could smell the familiar scent of alcohol and pine-based cleaners that eh the da on themonotone as he dealt hichever patient had come to him, but no sound ca door open and walked into the deserted room A room that was never empty

There were no children in the metal cribs that lined the far wall Father Pascal liked to keep the little ones overnight until he was sure the ear infections were under control, and there were always at least two or three babies in residence Not today

No sign of the ho lived at the co, and everything else they could get their capable hands on Beth had been a constant frustration to the her own laundry, her own cooking, her own cleaning She hadn’t been about to explain that it was the first ti it e They wouldn’t understand that the heir to millions of dollars could always feel helpless

She walked through the infirmary to the small office It was late autu the place She flipped the light switch but nothing happened

She let out a sigh of relief The generatoron it The generator was a dinosaur – temperamental and ancient, and only Father Pascal could soothe it into behaving Beth was very good with children, a natural teacher, brave in the face of snakes and scorpions, but her et in his way if she offered to help him