Overall, she’d managed to cut probably at least a day’s travel off my journey by bringing me in through Guyana, for which I’m extremely grateful. However, I haven’t even found the voice with which to thank her for her efforts because I’m afraid to talk to her. I’m afraid of all the things she could possibly say to me to change my mind, and while the pain of what happened to my tribe still throbs deep within me, I’m now filled with excruciating pain over the fact that I’m leaving Moira behind.

Leaving behind my new hopes and dreams that had just been bubbling up with excitement this morning.

All gone… turned to ash in a terrible change of circumstances.

Moira insisted on driving me to the airport, and the silence lays heavy between us. Her grip on the steering wheel is so tight that her knuckles are white, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. I want so badly to reach out, stroke her hair, touch her face… and tell her it will all be okay.

But it won’t.

Not for either of us.

The airport exit looms ahead, and she turns on her blinker to take it. My chest cramps with anxiety and the wrongness of all of this, but I push it aside. I have to be strong… for my people. For Paraila.

And I hope that Moira can be strong enough for herself as I leave her behind.

Moira navigates her way to the proper terminal, weaving among traffic until she finds a place to pull up alongside the curb outside of United Airlines.

We both get out of the car, and I wait for her to circle around. She hands me my tickets that she had printed off at the house and then presses another envelope into my hand.

“Here’s some cash,” she says.

“It won’t do me any good,” I say as I try to push it back at her. “I’ll have to barter something else to get a canoe.”

She shakes her head at me, her eyes haunted. “Not for a canoe. When you land near the river, find someone to buy some rifles from. Take the time to learn how to use them before you leave.”

I blink in surprise at her. “Guns?”

“You’re going after the Matica, aren’t you?” she asks simply.

“You know we are.”

“Then I want you to have the upper hand. Use the modern technology available.”

My head starts swimming. “You want me to buy guns?”

Tears fill Moira’s eyes, and she nods her head. “I want you to be safe, Zach. I want you to not get killed. Guns will help.”

My fingers curl around the envelope and my arms slide around her, pulling her into my body. For the last time, I bend down, smell her sweet hair, and feel her heartbeat against me. Laying my cheek against the top of her head, I take the moment to revel in her touch… her love… her sadness.

I’ll take that sadness with me to the grave, whether that is when we raid the Matica or years from now, when I’m probably dying of my battered heart.

“You’re not coming back, are you?” she asks quietly.

“No,” I tell her. “I’m not.”

Moira pulls back and leans up on her toes, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Then go with my love and know that I’ll never regret a moment we shared together. You’ll always reside in my heart, Zacharias.”

Agony washes through me as I step away from Moira. She blinks those ethereal green eyes, as verdant as the Amazon, and crystal tears spill down her cheeks. My stomach cramps and my chest tightens in pain.

Reaching out one last time, I stroke my fingers along her cheek. “Goodbye, Moira.”

Turning away from me, she heads around the front of the car. She never looks back, and I watch as she climbs in and pulls away.

Pulls away from me forever.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my face to the modern sun and feel its heat for the last time. Then I turn and head into the airport, so I can get back to my real life.

Chapter 28

Moira

I close my laptop in frustration and push it across my kitchen table, trying to get it as far away from me as possible. It’s not providing me the answers I want.

In particular, I sent an email to Father Gaul two weeks ago, desperately hoping he would see it. I’ve been going out of my mind with worry about Zach, wondering if he made it back to Caraica.

I’m sure he did. He’s the most self-assured, capable man I know. He’s at home in the jungle, so there’s no reason he wouldn’t make it back there.

No, my worry is really about what happened after he made it back. Have the Caraicans already gone to battle with the Matica? Is Zach still alive?

For the last two weeks, I could barely eat, so sick with apprehension. I’m sleeping maybe a few hours a night, but it’s a fitful tossing and turning.

And I’m so heartsick that I can barely function. I miss Zach so bad. I think sometimes the best thing to happen to me would be if I just shriveled up and died, then this misery would at least be ended.

Pushing myself up from the chair, I pad over to the refrigerator. I open it up and stare listlessly inside, noting the extreme lack of contents. Shutting it with a sigh, I head for the living room, intent on getting lost in a movie.

A knock sounds at my door, and I jolt with surprise. No one even knows I’m back in Evanston. I assume it’s someone soliciting something, so I ignore it. The knocking continues, but I head to the couch and pick up the TV remote.

A buzzing in my pocket startles me and I pull out my iPhone, seeing a text from Lisa.

Open your damned door.

What the hell?

I scurry off my couch and run to the door, throwing it open. Lisa stands there, holding a carry-on suitcase with a devious smile on her face. “Hey, baby sister.”