Love at Spain's Iron Cross

54 - Misdirection

54

Misdirection

Wednesday, July 7

Their alarm was set for seven, but it must have been a half-hour before then when Jordan awoke. Pre-dawn light filtered through their window, the hint of warm colors beginning to the east. He looked at Makena sleeping on her side, her right arm lightly resting across his chest. He felt the warmth of her body next to him, and ever so softly touched her golden hair.

Where did you come from? It's like a miracle. I'm so grateful for you.

He gently lifted her arm and headed for the restroom. They agreed to dress in what they usually wore post-trekking each afternoon so that at the meeting with Greta she would conclude that they were still going to just hang out in Santiago for the rest of today. Jordan emerged with his face washed. Makena was up and smiled his way, then walked over and put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. He clung tightly. "There is no place on Earth I would rather be," Jordan said. He kissed the top of her head.

"Mmm. Me either," Makena said. She also used the bathroom, brushed her hair, washed her face, then returned. They left and headed downstairs, holding hands.

The hotel dining area opened early for breakfast. They had a decidedly non-Pilgrim meal. Rather than a quick bite, they stuffed themselves with granola, yogurt, fresh fruit, croissants, orange juice, and coffee.

Makena smiled, "Well, we still need our cafe con leche. Can't go off our diet cold turkey."

They sat, and he drank his first cup quickly. "You're right, and in the interest of science..."

"We must see if the second is as good as or better than the first! The same joke still works for us."

They left their small bags in the hotel room to look as if they were empty-handed since all the rest of their stuff was still in the albergue. Jordan took Makena's hand and interlaced his fingers with hers as they walked over to Greta's hotel. Each carried an envelope. They took the elevator to her floor and knocked on it precisely at eight o'clock. They could hear footsteps, then the door opened.

Greta's makeup and hair were perfect. She was barefoot and wore only a bathrobe with a hint of cleavage showing. She moved toward Jordan and lifted her arms for him.

Jordan held up both hands and shook his head. "No. You and I are friends. That's all. Makena and I are together, and I need you to respect our relationship. He squeezed Makena's hand as they stood side-by-side.

Greta looked surprised, then recovered. "You were supposed to come alone. What time would you like to return by yourself, so we can talk?"

"That won't happen. This is the only visit I will make. I would like the ring back, please. That's all."

"Jordan, be reasonable. We haven't seen each other in so long. We have much to talk about. How about 8:30 this morning? I will see you then."

"No. I hope we will remain friends, but that's up to you. I'm not going to push this. You may voluntarily give me back my wedding band or just keep it. My deceased wife, Oriana, would not have wanted it used for leverage against me. Your choice, return it or not. Either way Makena and I leave together, never to return."

Greta looked at Jordan for a long moment. Her face fell and sadness clouded her eyes. "Okay, wait." She left and soon returned, handing him the ring. "Here it is. Now that you have it back, won't you return alone to visit for a while? I have come all this way just to see you. I missed you, Jordan. Didn't you miss me?"