It was quiet during the afternoon siesta, except for a few stragglers on the streets. Thick dust hung in a soft haze on the still air, heat shimmering up in iridescent waves. There were things about Mexico that would never change, even when politics and politicians changed fortunes and lives in the blink of an eye.

It was all so complicated, the tortured convolution of Mexican politics so frustrating and frightening at the same time, that Ginny tried to focus instead on the future—her future with Steve.

There were moments it seemed as if nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. She was so different…and Steve had changed in so many ways. Outwardly, he seemed to be an entirely different man, yet beneath the calm facade she sensed the same violent nature.

But there had been no confrontations between them, no heated arguments, not even when Steve suggested she go to Don Francisco’s hacienda instead of the rancho in the province of Chihuahua that he had purchased from Hearst.

“You can go on to my grandfather’s with the wagons and baggage,” he’d said, but she quickly refused.

“And be separated from you again? No. We’ll stay together and arrive together. Things have a way of happening when we separate.”

Shrugging, he’d only stared at her, amusement glinting in his dark-blue eyes. “Suit yourself, Ginny.”

“Don’t I always?”

Laughing softly, he had pulled her to him and kissed her, a swift, hard kiss that removed any objections she might have thought of.

“You won’t believe me when I say this, but you are so predictable when you’re unpredictable, Ginny.”

So now here they were, in Nuevo Laredo on the border of Texas and Mexico, instead of across the Meseta Central in the province of Zacatecas. So close to home, and yet still so far away.

Don Francisco planned a fiesta, of course, to welcome home his prodigal grandson. And Teresa would be there, the woman he had loved for so long—and who had given him a son to be claimed by another man. Richard. How ironic that the only other man to even slightly touch Ginny’s heart was Steve’s uncle. Did Don Francisco understand about Richard? But how could he, when she wasn’t certain she understood it herself?

Don Francisco had come to visit her at Richard’s soon after she had first been blinded. She recalled him gently asking questions of her, and she had detected the concern and sympathy in his tone even though she hadn’t been able to see him. He must have recognized that she still loved Steve, and been patient with her. What would he say when he saw her again?