The Infinity Tattoo (4 page)

“This looks fabulous,” Jack said. It was all he could do to take a mouthful at a time when what he really wanted to do was inhale it.

She poured coffee into two mugs and set one next to Jack’s plate. Then she put the other one on the opposite side of the table and sat across from him. Besides the coffee, she had a plate of cottage cheese and some sliced tomato.

“Is that all you’re having?”

“Considering that I’ve already had breakfast and lunch, yes.”

“Of course. My times are all screwed up what with traveling by night and sleeping by day.”

Meg looked at him thoughtfully. “I can’t even imagine it.”

“It’s not an experience I would ever like to repeat,” Jack said.

“Where are you from?” Meg asked him.

“Would you believe a small farming town in the middle of the cornfields of Illinois?”

“Hm . . . I’d say that’s quite a bit different than here.”

“There is no comparison. Have you ever been to Illinois?”

“No. I was born here. I did a lot of traveling overseas, but I never really had a reason to go to Illinois.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a tourist destination. Where did you travel?”

“Oh, let’s see. I spent some time in Africa and then found my way to Latin America.”

“Doing what?”

“I was a foreign correspondent,” Meg said.

“How interesting. But how did you end up back here, then?”

“Burn out. Being an international journalist is exciting, adventurous. But it’s like flying without a parachute. You have no backup organization. It’s not like when you work for an embassy or the military or an international bank. You’re just . . . there. And if you get in trouble, the only person who can save you, is you. Then I got news that my father was dying so I came home. He left his business and this place. I decided, exhilarating though it was, I’d had enough of international travel. And so here I am. Home.”

Jack watched the emotions play across her face as she spoke and felt a strange pull. There was peace here. He wasn’t sure if it was the woman or the place, but the feeling was strong. He needed peace. And he was grateful that he had found a respite, however brief, in Meg’s home.

He awoke the following morning to the sound of snuffling and digging. He could tell it was just on the other side of the wall where he slept. He lay still and listened. What kind of an animal was that? It was just getting light outside, so he decided to have a look.

He pulled his boots on and winced. Carefully, he rose and rounded the fertilizer bags that served as a protective wall. When he got to the side door, he pushed it open a crack and peered out. Seeing nothing, he stepped out into the dawn. He could still hear the pig-like noises so he followed the sound.

As he turned the corner to the shed, he saw them. They were about ten feet away. Ugly creatures with coarse hair and snouts like pigs. Two of them were lying in the dirt under a thorny bush and three more were sniffing the ground, rummaging among the brush for food. Another smaller one that looked to be a baby stood behind some thorny vegetation.

He backed up slowly. He’d never seen wild animals like these, but he suspected they might be dangerous if threatened. Once back around the corner of the shed and out of their sight, he turned to go back the way he came. Meg was standing a few feet away.

“Javelinas?” she asked.

“Heck if I know. They look like some kind of wild pig.”

“Javelinas,” she confirmed. “They’re pretty common in these parts. You were right to leave them be. Some people think they’re cute and that’s when they get hurt.”

“Yeah, well not me,” he said then took a step towards the door to the shed. And winced.

Meg glanced down at his boots then up at his face. “I bandaged your feet as best I could. But I can just imagine how much it must hurt to put them back in those boots. Why don’t you come into the house and we’ll give them a good soak,” she said, then turned back the way she had come. Jack limped after her.

She took a plastic basin from under the kitchen sink and began filling it with warm water. She added what looked like salt to it, then swirled it around. Jack removed his boots then carefully removed the bandages. His feet were a mess. No wonder they hurt.

“Here,” Meg said, “put your feet in this water. It might sting a bit, but it has Epsom salts in it. That will draw out the fluid from those blisters.”

He did as directed and waited until the stinging subsided. The warm water was soothing. “How do you know these things?”

“What, basic first aid?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I just believe in being as self-sufficient as possible. Why go to a doctor if you don’t have to? And besides, a lot of places where I’ve been, there were no doctors.”

“Tell me about your travels.”

Meg laughed and walked across the kitchen to where a pot of coffee was gurgling as the last bit of water hissed out and into the receptacle. She poured two cups and brought them over to the kitchen table.

Jack noticed that the wooden table, like the rest of the kitchen, was worn. The finish was nearly gone and what was there was heavily scratched. He ran his hand along it and thought about how it would look with some sanding and refinishing. Probably magnificent.

Meg seemed to guess the direction of his thoughts. “I’m sure this table would clean up nicely. Just like the rest of the house, one day.”

“It is a beautiful old table,” Jack said. “Anyway, I was wondering about your travels.”

“Oh, well, what do you want to know about in particular?”

“Well, what countries have you been to?”

“Oh, well, let’s see. In Africa, I covered Kenya and Uganda.”

“As a journalist?”

“Mm. Then I started working in Latin America. Guatemala, El Salvador, and then Honduras.”

“So, which country did you find the most interesting?”

Meg took a sip of coffee and looked over at him. “That’s a hard question to answer. They were all interesting.”

“What about your last country. Didn’t you say Honduras?”

“Yes. I guess you could say it was pretty interesting. What do you know about Honduras?”

“I know they have a large joint US-Honduran military base there, Soto Cano.”

“That’s right. Well, they also had a coup.”

“I remember something about that. It was in the news.” He knew quite a bit more about it, but he wasn’t ready to lay it all out on the table just yet.

“Right. Well I was there when it happened.”

“No kidding? What was it like?”

Meg shook her head and stood up. She headed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs. Then she placed a frying pan on the stove and turned it on. As she worked, cracking eggs into the pan, popping bread into the toaster, she told him a little about her time there.

“It wasn’t a coup like you usually think of. I mean normally, the military takes the president out and then takes over the country. That didn’t happen. The military did take out the president out, but under the instruction of the congress. Then congress took over running the country. I suppose as coups go, it was fairly non-violent. If I hadn’t been a journalist, I would have been safe for the most part.”

“But not as a journalist?”

“I had a good friend there. He was also a journalist. One day he just . . . disappeared. His name was Alex Larson.” Meg turned with a plateful of eggs and toast. She gave him a pointed look as she set it down in front of him.

Jack nearly blurted out that he knew Alex, that they were old friends. That he knew about his disappearance. But he held back. He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever was going on now had to do with Alex. That could lead her into the same danger he was in.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Were you two very close?”

“Yes,” Meg said pensively. “I’d known Alex for years. When he disappeared, it really shook me up. Journalists have a pretty short life expectancy in Honduras. Even with the international press all over his disappearance, they didn’t try too hard to look for him. So I decided to bail out.”

They ate their breakfast in silence. As they were finishing, Meg said, “We need a plan.”

“What?”

“We need a plan. Luckily today is Sunday, so I’m not going off to work. But, come tomorrow, I will. What are you going to do?”

“I could help you. I’m pretty handy with a shovel.”

“Except that I will have to explain who you are to Julio and Manny. They work for me.”

“Could you say I’m a cousin?”

“No. Julio has worked for us for a long time. He’s known me since I was a kid. He’d be suspicious.” She pushed her empty plate away and stood. “Besides, in those clothes, you look like . . . well, just what you are. A fugitive in borrowed clothes.” She pulled a dishtowel from a drawer and tossed it to him. “Let’s have a look at those feet.”

They were still a mess, but the sores were showing signs of healing. She got out her first aid kit, and with gentle hands reapplied antibiotic cream to the blisters and cuts on the soles of his feet, covered them with gauze and taped them up as well as she could.

“I thought I would say that you were a friend of a friend, in need of work,” she said as she worked on his feet. “We’ll have to get you some clothes that fit. Maybe some flip flops to wear when you’re kicking around here so that you can air out those sores.”

“That’s very kind of you, Meg. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll put you to work. Make you earn your keep.”

“It’s a deal. Meanwhile, I wouldn’t mind having a real shower and a shave.”

“Bath,” she said. When he gave her a puzzled look, she said, “I just bandaged your feet. You need to keep them dry. With a bath, you can keep your feet out of the water.”

“Okay, fine. A bath.”

“And you might want to think about not shaving. Your beard is nearly there now. It will make you less recognizable.”

Jack thought about it. He had never actually had a beard. When he was in college, all he could produce was scruffy fuzz, and then he had joined the military. “Okay, why not?” he said.

“Right,” Meg said. “Let me show you where the bathroom is and get you some towels. Then I’m going out. Besides clothes for you, we need groceries.”

* * *

As Meg gathered her purse and canvas shopping bags, she stared at the closed bathroom door. Who are you, Jack Cunningham? she mused. He had lied to her, she knew that much. For one thing, he knew Alex. The tattoo was just too distinctive for it to be a coincidence. For another, if he knew Alex well, he would probably have known about her.

Alex had always had a thing for her. And she knew he talked about her to his friends. She often wished she could have reciprocated those feelings, but they just weren’t there. He had asked her to marry him many times. But she wanted love and passion, and she just didn’t feel like that about him.

And then one evening in Honduras, he’d gone out and not come back. Alex was like a terrier when it came to sniffing out a story. And, lord knew, there were plenty of stories following the coup. She waited for a few days, hoping beyond hope that he would return.

But he didn’t. As the first few days passed following his disappearance, she found herself constantly looking over her shoulder. She wanted to go to the police or the American Embassy and demand more information. But she didn’t trust the police, and there were constant demonstrations in front of the embassy. She feared someone in that crowd would recognize her as a colleague of Alex. Would they go after her as well?

Then she got news about her father. A friend back in Sedona sent her an email, telling her that her father’s condition was worsening. The news stirred her to action. She had been sitting under a black cloud since Alex’s disappearance, half paralyzed with fear. Why was she putting her own life at risk when it wasn’t even her country?

She couldn’t save Alex. In the deepest part of her heart, she knew that he was dead. Meanwhile, her father needed her. She packed her bags that day and caught the first flight back to the States.

Following his death, she had taken over the business. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to locate it. And she was sure that’s exactly what Jack had done. His ending up in her shed was no coincidence.

But that didn’t mean he was a criminal or meant her any harm. Alex had often talked about the guys who shared the tattoo. There were four of them, and they were tight. They had always kept track of each other and they knew if one of them were ever in trouble, he could count on each and every one of the others.

It was that alone, the tattoo, that had convinced her to help him. For Alex’s sake. He would have wanted her to. She just hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

* * *

That afternoon, Jack sat on Meg’s front porch in a rocking chair that provided a delightfully shady spot to convalesce. Meg was working in a small vegetable patch, turning soil in preparation for spring planting. Jack was surprised that she hadn’t put anything in the ground yet. They must have a late last frost, which he wouldn’t have thought possible this far south.

“Yoohoo, yoohoo, Meg. Are you there?”

Meg stood, leaned her shovel next to her wheelbarrow, and walked to the front of the house. A woman had entered the yard. Jack wasn’t sure exactly how old she was. She was a tiny thing with a big floppy hat. Her walk was spry, but she was slightly stooped with osteoporosis.

When she saw Meg her face lit up with delight.

“I just stopped by to give you some of these,” said the woman, holding out a basket of apricots. “They were on sale so I simply had to buy extra to bring to you.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Bonnie. How much do I owe you?”

“Not a thing dear. Not a thing.”

“Well, I’ll just put them in the kitchen. Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea.”

“That would be lovely,” Bonnie said.

As she started to walk from the front of the house around to the kitchen door, Meg caught sight of Jack. He sat irresolutely, not sure whether to stay put or come forward.

“Jack,” she said, “come and meet my neighbor.”

He left the porch with alacrity and approached the two women.

“This is Jack,” Meg said. “Jack, meet my neighbor, Bonnie.”

Jack extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Bonnie grasped his hand in a firm grip and looked directly into his face. “You’re troubled, young man. I can see that.”

“You can?”

“Yes, my dear. You have an aura. It’s a dirty gray. That means you are experiencing some kind of fear. You have your guard up. But I see a tinge of red there too. That is probably your normal aura. It shows that you are powerful and energetic. And passionate.” Then she turned to Meg.

“I’d keep my eye on this one. He doesn’t mean you harm. In fact that tinge of red shows some sexual attraction to you. But there are some dark secrets in his heart.”

“Goodness, Bonnie. I guess I will keep my eye out.”

Bemused, Jack followed the two ladies into the kitchen.

Meg put the kettle on and gathered tea cups.

Bonnie studied Jack. “Where are you from, young man?”

“Illinois.”

“Oh. That’s good. You’re a farm boy, aren’t you?”