Jason this way; his open exuberant personality encouraged confidences and camaraderie.
With billowing exhaust and much grinding of gears, the bus finally pulled into the station. Jason had been right to warn her about its likely condition. The rattletrap of a vehicle looked as if itâd been on the road since the Second World War. Its color was no longer distinguishable and half the windows were missing. In this heat, though, that was probably a blessing.
The bus was one thing, her fellow travelers another. The minute the bus rolled into the yard, people appeared from every direction. Adults and children and caged chickens. One man was hefting a pig under his arm.
âGo and get us the best seat you can,â Jason advised, urging her toward the bus. âIâll make sure our luggage gets on board.â
Lorraine watched, astonished, as two men clambered on top of the bus and waited for Jason and another man to throw suitcases up to them. She didnât envy anyone the task of lifting her suitcase, let alone hurling it eight feet off the ground.
After about ten minutes a breathless Jason climbed on board and collapsed onto the seat beside her.
âYou mentioned youâd be traveling to someplace near El Mirador,â Lorraine said once heâd caught his breath.
âIâm on my way to another dig,â he said, shifting a bit to give her more room on the cramped seat. The narrow cushion was barely wide enough for one adult, let alone two.
Heâd told Lorraine a little about Mayan ruins earlier, and sheâd found it fascinating.
âThereâs a dig near El Mirador?â Sheâd researched the tiny coastal town at the library and on the internet, but hadnât learned much. El Mirador had a population of less than a thousand. The economy of many of these towns along the coast depended, not surprisingly, on the fishing industry, but there was little else. She couldnât remember reading about Mayan ruins in the area around El Mirador, but that didnât mean much.
âActually,â Jason said, âour El Mirador was named after another El Mirador, in Guatemala. It was an important Mayan siteâone of the earliest. But thereâs a Mayan temple a few miles from this El Mirador, too. It was discovered a few years ago, and theyâve only begun excavating, so I want to spend a few weeks there before I go home.â
âHome is Missouri, right?â
âJefferson City,â he said. âNow what about you? Why are you traveling to El Mirador? Itâs not like the townâs exactly a tourist destination.â
Lorraine took her time answering, wondering how much to tell Jason. Sheâd known him slightly more than an hour. Granted, theyâd become virtually instant friends, but still⦠This wasnât the kind of personal information one generally shared on such recent acquaintance.
âMy father lives there,â she said without elaborating.
âIn El Mirador?â Jasonâs eyes widened briefly. âWhatâs he doing there?â
âHeâs a teacher.â
âThe Peace Corps?â
Lorraine looked out the window. Considering how nervous she was about meeting her father, she should be grateful for someone to talk to. Sheâd tell Jason the whole story, she decided impulsively. Heâd certainly told her a lot about his own background, and she sensed she could trust him. She took a deep breath. âTo be honest, Jason, I donât really know. I havenât seen him since I was threeâI was told heâd died of leukemia. I only found out a month ago that heâs actually alive, and once I did, I couldnât stay away. My fiancé thinks Iâve gone off the deep end and maybe I have.â She ended up telling Jason about her motherâs death, the letter sheâd discovered with the items from the safe-deposit box and about Gary.
Jason took a moment to absorb everything. âDoes
Alaska Angelini, A. A. Dark