Part 35 (1/2)

Gazing out the window, he saw Skyler near the end of the line. She had swept her hair into a ponytail and wore a plain black dress. Her eyes searched the windows of the bus but Zeke could tell that she hadn't spotted him yet. In her hands she held a small cardboard sign upon which she'd written two words in large black letters.

come back. Throat dry, he forced himself to turn away. If she saw him then, at least she would not see the doubt in his eyes.

Grinding noises came from the engine as Vickers s.h.i.+fted into higher gear.The bus lurched forward and then they were speeding west, toward sunset, with a cargo of breathless fears and unlikely hopes.

The McAllen-Hidalgo-Reynosa International Bridge spanned the Rio Grande and connected the United States to Mexico.Though it pa.s.sed through Hidalgo on the U.S. side, the bridge began in McAllen, Texas. Zeke held Savannah's hand as the bus rattled through miles of ranch and farmland all the way to Route 241, which Vickers followed straight through Hidalgo. In summertime, the sunlight seemed to linger forever, but in winter the night came on quickly, and by the time they were rolling along the bridge toward the checkpoint, it was full dark. Bright lights illuminated the short span and the four lanes going either direction. A high fence and a stretch of plain concrete separated the two, and with the towering light posts, it reminded Zeke of the time he'd gone as a boy to visit his uncle Frank in the state prison up in Houston.

”All right,”Vickers called from the front. ”We're almost there.” Zeke took a breath and dug out the bone pipe that had been sitting heavily in his pocket, jabbing into his thigh. He hesitated, but others didn't, and soon the whole bus was filled with a chorus of ugly notes, just a brief flurry of cluttered music that ended as abruptly as it had begun. He was one of the last to play, and once he had sounded the notes, he turned to Savannah.

”Close your eyes, kiddo. Pretend you're sleeping.” As the bus juddered and then surged forward,Vickers s.h.i.+fting gears, Zeke discovered he was praying. His entreaties amounted to little more than Please, Lord, let us both come back alive, but it surprised him to find himself on speaking terms with G.o.d again. After Savannah's death, he had all but given up prayer. Now he lowered his head and reached out with his heart, hoping to be heard, and that what they had done was not the abomination he feared it must be. She's my baby girl, Lord, he thought. What else was I to do?

And then, grimly, feeling the weight of his own guilt: You brought your own son back to life. Can you blame me for following your lead?

Though the air had cooled and the breeze that blew in through the partly open windows circulated well, he felt a damp sheen of sweat under his arms and down his back. It might have been his imagination, but even Savannah's hand seemed warm and clammy to the touch. He tried to take that as a good sign.

The bus idled in line for a few minutes, but it was a weekday evening and they were coming from the American side into Mexico, so the wait wasn't long. On the other side, Zeke could see headlights stretching back into the distance. Some of those people, he knew, would be waiting for an hour or two to cross the border into the States.

Vickers parked the bus and then worked the handle that rattled open the doors. Most cars were waved through, but with a bus like this, the Mexican border guards almost had no choice but to at least ask them what they were up to.The woman who stepped onto the bus wore her uniform proudly. In the dim orange glow from the tiny light above the door, Zeke could see the frown that creased her forehead.

”Some tired people,” the guard said.

”We were up very early this morning,” Vickers said. ”I have all of the pa.s.sports right here.”

He offered her a small plastic container that held forty-seven pa.s.sports and the guard frowned at the box, obviously not inclined to examine them.

”Where are you going?” she asked.

”Voices of Faith conference in San Fernando,” Vickers said. ”This is the St. Matthews Family Choir.”

There were a dozen obvious questions the guard could have asked, beginning with why they didn't have any suitcases on board. Instead she frowned at them for a few seconds longer and then looked at Vickers.

”Your pa.s.sport?”

He set the plastic box on his lap and handed her a single pa.s.sport, which she gave only a cursory glance before returning.

”Good luck.”