And Then You Die Read Free

his gaze fixed desperately on the golden crucifix above him.
    He had been in Tenajo for forty-four years and his flock had always listened before. Why would they not listen to him now in this supreme test?
    He could hear them in the square outside the church, shouting, singing, laughing. He had gone out and told them they should be in their homes at this time of night, but it had done no good. They had only offered to share the evil with him.
    He would not take it. He would stay inside the church.
    And he would pray that Tenajo would survive.
     
    “You slept well,” Emily told Bess. “You look more rested.”
    “I'll be even more rested by the time we leave here.” She met Emily's gaze. “I'm fine. So back off.”
    Emily smiled. “Eat your breakfast. Rico is already packing up the jeep.”
    “I'll go help him.”
    “It's going to be all right, isn't it? We're going to have a good time here.”
    “If you can keep yourself from––” Oh, what the hell. She wouldn't let this time be spoiled. “You bet. We're going to have a great time.”
    “And you're glad I came,” Emily prompted.
    “I'm glad you came.”
    Emily winked. “Gotcha.”
    Bess was still smiling as she reached the jeep.
    “Ah, you're happy. You slept well?” Rico asked.
    She nodded as she stowed her canvas camera case in the jeep. Her gaze went to the hills. “How long has it been since you've been in Tenajo?”
    “Almost two years.”
    “That's a long time. Is your family still there?”
    “Just my mother.”
    “Don't you miss her?”
    “I talk to her on the phone every week.” He frowned. “My brother and I are doing very well. We could give her a fine apartment in the city, but she would not come. She says it would not be home to her.”
    She had clearly struck a sore spot. “Evidently someone thinks Tenajo is a wonderful place or Condé Nast wouldn't have sent me.”
    “Maybe for those who don't have to live there. What does my mother have? Nothing. Not even a washing machine. The people live as they did fifty years ago.” He violently slung the last bag into the jeep. “It is the priest's fault. Father Juan has convinced her the city is full of wickedness and greed and she should stay in Tenajo. Stupid old man. There's nothing wrong with having a few comforts.”
    He was hurting, Bess realized, and she didn't know what to say.
    “Maybe I can persuade my mother to come back with me,” Rico added.
    “I hope so.” The words sounded lame even to her. Great, Bess. She searched for some other way to help. “Would you like me to take her photograph? Maybe the two of you together?”
    His face lit up. “That would be good. I've only a snapshot my brother took four years ago.” He paused. “Maybe you could tell her how well I'm doing in Mexico City. How all the clients ask just for me?” He hurried on: “It would not be a lie. I'm very much in demand.”
    Her lips twitched. “I'm sure you are.” She got into the jeep. “Particularly among the ladies.”
    He smiled boyishly. “Yes, the ladies are very kind to me. But it would be wiser not to mention that to my mother. She would not understand.”
    “I'll try to remember,” she said solemnly.
    “Ready?” Emily had walked to the jeep, and was now handing Rico the box containing the cooking implements. “Let's go. With any luck we'll be in Tenajo by two and I'll be swinging in a hammock by four. I can't wait. I'm sure it's paradise on earth.”

Two
    Tenajo was not paradise.
    It was just a town baking in the afternoon sun. From the hilltop overlooking the town Bess could see a picturesque fountain in the center of the wide cobblestone plaza bordered on three sides by adobe buildings. At the far end of the plaza was a small church.
    “Pretty, isn't it?” Emily stood up in the jeep. “Where's the local inn, Rico?”
    He pointed at a street off the main thoroughfare. “It's very small but clean.”
    Emily sighed blissfully. “My hammock is almost in view, Bess.”
    “I