“What happened?” she asked quietly.

He lifted his gaze to hers, and it was so full of anger, she took a step back. He blinked and the emotion disappeared. Had she imagined it? “It’s not worth talking about,” he said tightly.

Even though she knew it wasn’t a good idea, Emma started to press him. At that moment, though, two of the children rushed in, each holding a huge bowl of soup with slabs of bread perched on the side of the plate. They ate in silence, and when they were finished, Raul stood. “Shall we go into town?”

THEY WALKED up and down the narrow cobbled streets of Samaipata, peering into dark shops and stopping on the corners to admire the work of local artisans, who were sitting on blankets on the hard sidewalks amid their wares. The festival and parade gave everyone a chance to show off their talents, and they were selling everything from handmade flutes and carved gourds to delicate gold jewelry. Raul insisted on buying it all, and by the time the sun had slipped behind the mountains, they were loaded once more with gifts to take back to the orphanage.

Throughout the afternoon, Emma tried to reconcile Reina’s gossip with the generous, kind man beside her, but failed. When he finally suggested they stop for a drink before the parade began, Emma knew the time had arrived. She had to know the truth.

They picked a café on the square, facing the cathedral. A dozen or so tables lined the windows, each set with mismatched chairs, no two alike. Dark beams supported the low ceiling, and a long, wooden bar took up one side of the room. Two cats, sitting inside one of the windows licking each other, briefly stopped to inspect the new arrivals, then returned to their more important task of grooming.

Emma and Raul took the table nearest the front door, and a waiter appeared immediately. Raul gave him their drink order, then excused himself to go to the rest room. Emma felt as if she’d been granted a reprieve. She didn’t want to ask him about his past. She wanted to accept him just as he was. The warmth in his eyes, the taste of his lips, the way he knew what she was feeling simply by looking at her-those were the only things that counted. Weren’t they?

Just as the waiter placed her cola in front of her and Raul’s drink on the other side of the table, she sensed someone walking up behind her. Expecting Raul, she turned, and her eyes widened in shock.

William Kelman smiled back.

“Ms. Toussaint! I don’t believe it. What a coincidence!”

Was it? The question popped into her mind without a warning, and she immediately chastised herself. What else could it be but coincidence? He might be strange, but William Kelman wasn’t psychic, she was sure. And there was no way he could have followed them-all the way from Santa Cruz-and she not notice.

“Mr. Kelman. What a surprise to see you here. Are you in town for the festival?”

He nodded. “Yes, I drove down this morning. Dreadful road, isn’t it?” He started to pull out Raul’s chair and sit down, then he saw the drink and stopped. “You’re with a friend-I won’t intrude.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, he squatted beside the table.

“I won’t intrude,” he said, “but I will take advantage of the moment.”

She replied in the only way she could, her stomach turning over in a wave of anxiety. “What can I do for you?”

His eyes seemed to grow a little bluer, a little colder. “I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to rethink the opportunity we discussed last week. It’s still a viable option, you know.”

“I have been thinking about it,” she said, stalling for time.

“Good, good.” His expression held no warmth, although he was smiling.

A vision formed in her mind of her children moving farther and farther away from her. “My answer hasn’t changed.”

He let the words lie between them for a moment. “You’re making a mistake,” he said finally.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But I’m sure you understand my position.”

“I understand. But I’m not sure you do.” He stared at her for a while, then stood. “I’m very disappointed we couldn’t come to an agreement. I think we could have helped each other.”

“I’d still be happy to help you.” She gripped her drink so hard she was surprised the glass didn’t shatter. She was giving up the best opportunity she’d ever had to get her children back, but she couldn’t do it this way. “I have to work within the confines of the system, though.”

He shook his head almost regretfully. “I thought you had goals, things you needed to accomplish. I guess I was wrong.”

She froze. “I’m sorry?”

His eyes pierced hers. “Don’t you need money, Ms. Toussaint?”

“Everyone needs money,” she said.

“But you have a special reason for it, don’t you?”

She rose quickly, so quickly the table shook as she bumped it on her way up.

He held out his hands and stopped her from speaking. “I needed some help and I thought you needed money. A trade seemed like the way to accomplish both goals. No need to get excited. I thought this was the way to do it, but obviously it isn’t.”

“You’re right. And my private life is just that-private. I’d appreciate it if you’d recognize that fact.”

“Of course.” He stepped away from the table, both hands in front of him, just as Raul approached from behind.

Emma held her breath as Kelman turned and the two men stared at each other.

Raul spoke first. He wasn’t surprised to see Kelman, she realized, or if he was, he kept it from his demeanor. His tone was casual, his voice low. “Hello, Kelman.”

Something-surprise? dismay?-flared in Kelman’s eyes as he looked from Emma to Raul, then back to her. He’d known she was with someone else-he’d noted the glass-but he definitely had not expected that other person to be Raul. As improbable as it had to be, Emma had the fleeting thought that he’d planned the encounter, arranged it so he could approach her when she wasn’t expecting him. But how could he have known she was coming here? It didn’t make sense. Before she could think about it further, Kelman ducked his head in Raul’s direction. “Santos,” he said.

The silence that built was full of tension. From where she stood, Emma could see it in every line of Raul’s body and in the mask that Kelman wore.

The older man finally spoke. “I won’t keep you,” he said, his gaze directed at Emma once more. “But I will be talking to you. Perhaps we can work something out.”

She nodded stiffly, at a loss for what to say.

Raul spoke as soon as the other man left the table. “Where did he come from? I didn’t see him earlier.”

“I don’t know. I was sitting here and he just appeared. Said he’d come for the festival.”

“What did he want?” Raul asked the question with no special intonation. She heard the strain, though.

“It’s a business thing,” she answered. Her voice was equally blasé, but beneath the table, her knees still trembled. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger-or the realization that her goals were more out of reach than ever. “I really can’t go into it.”

He didn’t answer, and in the quiet, she remembered his words. You can trust me. Without any warning at all, she suddenly wanted to pour out her heart and tell him what had happened. To ask his advice. Kelman’s words had left her breathless, but now she was confused. Was she imagining things or had the man really been talking about her children? It seemed impossible for him to know her background-Reina knew, yet would have never told him-but what else could he have been referring to? And even more importantly, why?

She started to speak, then all at once, the parade began with firecrackers and booming music. A colorful crowd of marchers-and watchers-surged into the street just outside the windows. Conversation was now impossible. The café, so silent a second before, filled almost instantly with the overflow from outside, the narrow walkways suddenly packed as the procession reached the closest corner.