Page 41 of Cutter’s Lady

Chapter 8

Though Cutter’s kiss was short and rather chaste, raw jealousy stabbed Leslie. Immediately she struggled to suppress it. It couldn’t be jealousy, she thought; she didn’t care about Cutter or his girlfriends. She was simply tired and disgruntled from the long, nerve-racking drive and still angry with Cutter for using her as a cover for his other, nefarious activities. Leslie wondered how the pretty, fresh-faced woman was involved. She didn’t look like someone to be embroiled in shady dealings.

The woman stepped back a little from Cutter, holding him at arm’s length to look at him. “Well, you seem none the worse for wear. You’re earlier than we expected.” She gave him another brief hug. “I’m so happy to see you. Every time you make this trip, I worry about you more. The army’s cracked down the past few weeks.”

“So I heard in La Luz.”

He certainly hadn’t heard it anytime she was along, Leslie thought irritably, and she wondered where he had been and what he had been doing all the time he had been out of her sight in the capital city.

Now the woman turned to Leslie and smiled. “I’m sorry. I get carried away when I see Cutter. I’m glad to see he’s brought us a visitor.”

Leslie forced a smile. Cutter looped an arm around the woman’s shoulders and led her over to Leslie. He was grinning like an idiot, Leslie couldn’t help but notice. “Sorry,” he said. “Mary, this is Leslie Harper. Leslie, this is Mary Kubiak.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Leslie extended a hand, and Mary shook it in a friendly manner. Given the way she ran up and hugged Cutter, Leslie wondered why Mary wasn’t jealous of her. Yet she seemed perfectly as ease, if a trifle puzzled.

“You’re a fellow American,” Mary noted.

“Yes.”

Mary cast a short, curious glance at Cutter, then returned to Leslie. “Did Cutter bring you here to show you Dolorosa?”

“Leslie doesn’t know anything about this place,” Cutter put in. “Though I’m sure you’ll be happy to tell her all about it.”

“Of course I would. That is, if you’re interested.” She looked inquiringly at Leslie.

“She’s just the type you like, darlin’,” Cutter went on jokingly to Mary, and made a rubbing motion with his fingers that indicated money. “Leslie’s rolling in it.”

“You’re awful.” Mary jabbed him playfully in the ribs. “Actually I’d rather have a reporter.” She looked hopefully at Leslie. “I don’t suppose you write for any news outlets, do you?”

Leslie frowned and shook her head. It hurt to hear Cutter talking about her to this woman, as if Leslie were a mark he’d found for Mary. Which was no doubt exactly what she was to him—someone to exploit for this woman, whom he obviously genuinely cared for. Somehow, the pain was greater than the anger she would have expected to feel.

Smiling, Mary reached out to take Leslie’s arm and, arms linked with both of them, walked Cutter and Leslie toward the long building, chatting as she went. “First of all, we’re going to put some food into you. I’ll have the men unload that supplies while you eat. Then I suspect you both need a good rest. Did you drive all night?”

“Yeah.” Cutter yawned, cracking his jaw. “Before that we slept two nights on the deck of a cargo boat.”

“A boat? What happened to the plane?”

“John flew the supplies in on the C-46. But Leslie and I actually entered the country legally.”

“What a change for you,” Mary teased, eyes twinkling. “You must not have known how to act.”

“I managed.”

They stepped up onto the porch and entered the large front room of the building. It was high ceilinged, and four fans hung down from the ceiling, though none was turning this early in the day. Long folding tables were set up over the room, with six folding chairs at each. At the far end was a counter lined with platters and bowls of food and pitchers of milk and various juices. Scattered around the tables were a few men and women and lots of children who watched the new couple curiously. Some of the children wore bandages on their arms or legs or faces, startlingly white against their skin. Leslie frowned, wondering what had befallen so many of them.

“Cutter!” one young boy cried, and jumped up from his seat to run to him. About two feet away, the child launched himself straight at Cutter, and Cutter caught him deftly. The boy wrapped his legs around Cutter’s waist and grabbed his broad shoulders with his hands as he spoke excitedly in Spanish. As they stood there, several other children left their seats and darted over. One little girl, not more than two or three years old, hobbled behind the others, one of her tiny legs encased in a white cast. Cutter squatted down among the children and set down the boy who had jumped into his arms. He smiled and talked to them, reaching out to hug or touch each one. When the little girl with the cast reached him, he swept her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, ritualistically kissing her three times, on the forehead and both cheeks. The little girl’s cheeks flamed with color and she leaned shyly against Cutter, one finger in her mouth.

Leslie smiled, amazed at the scene before her. She would never have imagined Cutter surrounded by adoring children or obviously enjoying it so much. She glanced at Mary, who was also beaming at the children and Cutter. Mary shook her head and sighed. “They adore him. They always want to know when he’s coming back. Come on, let’s get you some food. They can keep him here for hours.”

Mary guided Leslie to the counter and handed her a plate and utensils. “Dig in.” She indicated the bowls of eggs, fruits and breads. “Sit anywhere you want. I’m going to start the unloading, then I’ll come back to settle you in your rooms. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I am a little tired.”

“Well, eat up. This is the best meal of the day here.”

Mary walked over to two men sitting at one of the tables and began to talk to them, gesturing back at the entrance. Leslie turned her attention to the food. She realized suddenly that she was starving. The nervous tension in her stomach all night long had masked her hunger, but now it burst forth. She loaded up her plate and sat down at an empty table, well aware that practically every eye in the room was on her. This place was nothing like what she had expected, and she wondered exactly what it was. Mary was clearly from the U.S., but all the others appeared to be San Cristóbalians. With most of them being children, and so many of them being injured, Leslie figured it must be some sort of charitable group or children’s hospital.

One of the men Mary had sent out came back in, grinning and crying out, “Hermana!” He rushed up to Mary and began speaking in Spanish. Mary grinned broadly, clapped her hands together and ran to Cutter, who was still swarmed by the children.