I was quiet and introspective for the remainder of our flight. We stopped again at another minute strip in Apartadó, Colombia. The pilot asked for a four-hour break to nap. He curled up in the back seat of the plane and we set off to find authentic Colombian food.
The city of Apartadó was both beautiful and sad. The population numbers were almost as high as my native Knoxville, but the poverty in the city was rampant. We found a small cafe and were welcomed with the smell of delectable spices.
I pigged out on Colombian tamales wrapped in banana leaves. By the time we left, my pants were snug and my brain fuzzy and warm. Remembering the hungry look on the faces of the people we passed on the way to the restaurant, I whispered to Elias to leave a large tip.
The rest of our journey to Peru passed in a fog of naps, guilt, and contemplation of my newfound feelings for Elias and Anthony. I noticed less scenery and spent more time spacing out while looking at their profiles.
Twenty-eight hours after leaving Córdoba, we were in Cusco. I’d slept for a portion of each flight, but I lagged like I’d run the entire way on foot.
We thanked the pilot—we’d learned his name was Arturo, and his two young sons were adorable and chubby.
Elias took his contact information to later send him a bonus for getting us safely to our destination and rented a small car at the large airport. We stopped at the first hotel we found. The Hotel Ferre Cusco became the second place we played the American celebrity song-and-dance. Before I knew it, I was collapsing onto another plush bed. My guys climbed in around me, and the next six hours were spent in a blissful, dreamless sleep.
We were woken by a hard knock on the door. I scrambled into the bathroom so that my distinctly not-celebrity face wouldn’t be seen. Since I was in there anyway, I used the toilet and washed my face. The bathroom wasn’t as posh as the last hotel, but I was hopeful for a decent shower. I flipped off the tap when I heard the sound of a body hitting the wall. “Riley, stay in there until we tell you it’s safe!” Anthony’s voice was faint, he must’ve been across the room.
A series of crashes and bangs followed his statement, and I pressed my ear up to the door to listen when it quieted. I heard male voices murmuring but couldn’t make out any words.
“Where is she? She’s here, I can smell her.” A voice came through the door, a familiar voice…Atoofamiliar voice. I pressed my ear against the door. I couldn’t hear clearly enough.
If I didn’t know any better I’d’ve thought—
“Riley! Baby, are you in there?”
Oh god. Oh my god.I panicked. I’d heard that voice in my mind so many times. My chest was full of hope and terror.
I couldn’t handle it. It was cruel. I didn’t want to open the bathroom door; if I opened the door then I might learn that the hope in my chest was for nothing. It couldn’t be him. He was dead.
Stop it, Riley. He’s dead. He. Is. Dead. He died a long time ago.My stomach was hollow—my whole body was hollow. The door vibrated against my ear as a fist struck it.
I jumped back and stared at the door. “Elias? Anthony? Are you still out there?” My voice was thin. It certainly didn’t sound like me, it sounded weak and scared, and I hadn’t been weak or scared in years.
“Riley! It’s me, Baby. It’s Michael. Please come out.”
No way. I was sure it was a cruel trick. Elias said witches were real, maybe I was being put under a spell.
Elias's voice came through the door next. I could hear his torment as he spoke. “Ri, come out. It’s him.”
I meant to open the door, but my legs were frozen. I was incapable of taking the two steps to the door to open it. My breaths came out in pants, hysteria rising.
Anthony tried next. “Coya, we're here for you. We’ll help you through this, but itishim.”
I held my breath as I cracked the door and peeked out. I could see the outline of a large male body with his fists resting on the door. The lines of the muscles on his arms were familiar. I breathed rapidly again. “Please back up,” I whispered. He moved several feet from the door and the light of the lamp beside the bed illuminated his face. I opened the door fully and stood there, dumb.
Alarms shrieked in my mind. My emotions had swung from the deepest pit of despair to the highest hope over the past week. This was almost too much to process. “Elias. Anthony.” Their names, barely audible, left my lips and they were beside me, taking my hands. Lightning flashed in Michael’s eyes as he looked at our hands.
“Michael. How can this be? How is this happening?” I couldn't accept that my long lost, dead husband was standing in front of me.
Anthony put his arm around my shoulders and answered before Michael could. “My Coya, I don't yet understand how this has happened, but it’s him. The first thing we did was ask him questions only Michael could answer. We believe it really is him. It isn't someone else using a glamor spell.”
I lurched forward. My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor. Michael sat on his knees in front of me while I gaped at his face. There were several white scars on it that were not there before. His light brown hair was longer than I’d ever seen it, pulled back, and he’d grown a short, neat beard.
I lifted a shaking finger to smooth the wild hairs of his eyebrows. It was something I’d done constantly before. The motion was alien and brought on a wave of emotion. The texture of his brows hadn’t changed. I was shocked I could remember it.
He ran his knuckles along my jawline as a tear ran down his cheek. “Riley, I'm so sorry. I tried so hard to come home to you. I’ll never leave you again, baby.”
I burst into sobs. He wrapped his arms around me and let me cry into his neck. “You were gone! I came home and everything fell apart.” It was hard to speak through my sobs.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I never wanted to leave you. I tried, Riley, I tried. Please, please tell me our sons are okay. Did they kill them?” His expression was tortured, and his face was soaked in tears.
