powerful body to wrest the small car free of the ruts. Before Lora could even consider driving away and leaving him standing, he was in the car beside her, scowling.
"Very funny," he said sourly at her continued giggles.
Lora went into fresh gales of laughter as he pulled up first one and then the other pants leg to check for injuries to his ankles and calves. There were none that she could see— apparently the sturdy material of his jeans had saved him. Putting his feet back on the floor, he cast her a disgruntled look and held up the package that Mamacita had given him.
"If you don't shut up, I won't feed you." He unwrapped the cloth to reveal a stack of tortillas.
Lora hastily smothered her mirth as well as she could— isolated chortles struggled at intervals to burst forth, but in the face of starvation she did what she could to suppress them—and eagerly held out her hand. Ordinarily, a plain corn tortilla would have been less than appetizing, but this morning it tasted like ambrosia. She ate two and could have managed more, except that he had wolfed the other two himself. She looked longingly after the last bite as it disappeared into his mouth.
"Drive," he said as he had the day before, and winced as Lora thrust the car into gear and they jolted off down the road.
At his direction, they had turned off on Route 180 onto Highway 295 just before reaching Chichen Itza the day before. The ejido where they had spent the night was located just off the two-lane road, perhaps some forty or fifty miles farther along, Lora calculated, appalled to discover that yesterday they had covered just a little over two hundred miles. At home, even zealously obeying the speed limit, that would have taken perhaps four hours. Yesterday they had driven for almost ten—but then, there had been a few interruptions, like the rain, and her own escape attempt that had left the Volkswagen's front end looking distinctly the worse for wear. Today, she hoped that they would make better time. The sooner they reached wherever he was going, the sooner she would be free of him. She hoped.
"What does your husband do?"
"What?" The question, out of the blue after more than an hour of driving in silence, surprised Lora.
"I said, what does your husband do?"
Momentarily at a loss, Lora took a few seconds to remember the family she had invented for him the day before.
"He's a math teacher." It was probably safer to stick with the truth as much as possible. That way, she wouldn't forget anything.
"Another teacher, huh? Wow, wherever you're from, they must really be behind their education system one hundred percent. I never would have guessed that even two teachers' salaries would have stretched to cover a jet-set vacation for the whole family."
"It wasn't as expensive as you'd think," Lora mumbled. To tell the truth, there was no way she could have managed this trip to Cancun on her salary in a million years, and no way that she and a husband both earning approximately the same thing could have afforded to bring themselves and their two children to Mexico's newest playground for the international rich. "Besides, it was paid for with an inheritance."
This last was inspired, she thought, and had the advantage of being the absolute truth as well, at least as far as it went.
He snorted. "Cut the crap, Lora."
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and she flicked a quick glance sideways at him. He was looking at her with a narrow-eyed gleam that made her nervous. He could not know she lied—could he? How could she have possibly given herself away?
"Who do the kids belong to?"
"Are you talking about my children?" She tried to inject a note of amazement into her voice.
"Don't give me that. You don't have any kids. And you're not married."
"What on earth makes you say that?" This time, she thought, the amazement was rather better done. She did wonder what made him think it. Personally, she thought her tale had been pretty convincing.
"Two
"Very funny," he said sourly at her continued giggles.
Lora went into fresh gales of laughter as he pulled up first one and then the other pants leg to check for injuries to his ankles and calves. There were none that she could see— apparently the sturdy material of his jeans had saved him. Putting his feet back on the floor, he cast her a disgruntled look and held up the package that Mamacita had given him.
"If you don't shut up, I won't feed you." He unwrapped the cloth to reveal a stack of tortillas.
Lora hastily smothered her mirth as well as she could— isolated chortles struggled at intervals to burst forth, but in the face of starvation she did what she could to suppress them—and eagerly held out her hand. Ordinarily, a plain corn tortilla would have been less than appetizing, but this morning it tasted like ambrosia. She ate two and could have managed more, except that he had wolfed the other two himself. She looked longingly after the last bite as it disappeared into his mouth.
"Drive," he said as he had the day before, and winced as Lora thrust the car into gear and they jolted off down the road.
At his direction, they had turned off on Route 180 onto Highway 295 just before reaching Chichen Itza the day before. The ejido where they had spent the night was located just off the two-lane road, perhaps some forty or fifty miles farther along, Lora calculated, appalled to discover that yesterday they had covered just a little over two hundred miles. At home, even zealously obeying the speed limit, that would have taken perhaps four hours. Yesterday they had driven for almost ten—but then, there had been a few interruptions, like the rain, and her own escape attempt that had left the Volkswagen's front end looking distinctly the worse for wear. Today, she hoped that they would make better time. The sooner they reached wherever he was going, the sooner she would be free of him. She hoped.
"What does your husband do?"
"What?" The question, out of the blue after more than an hour of driving in silence, surprised Lora.
"I said, what does your husband do?"
Momentarily at a loss, Lora took a few seconds to remember the family she had invented for him the day before.
"He's a math teacher." It was probably safer to stick with the truth as much as possible. That way, she wouldn't forget anything.
"Another teacher, huh? Wow, wherever you're from, they must really be behind their education system one hundred percent. I never would have guessed that even two teachers' salaries would have stretched to cover a jet-set vacation for the whole family."
"It wasn't as expensive as you'd think," Lora mumbled. To tell the truth, there was no way she could have managed this trip to Cancun on her salary in a million years, and no way that she and a husband both earning approximately the same thing could have afforded to bring themselves and their two children to Mexico's newest playground for the international rich. "Besides, it was paid for with an inheritance."
This last was inspired, she thought, and had the advantage of being the absolute truth as well, at least as far as it went.
He snorted. "Cut the crap, Lora."
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and she flicked a quick glance sideways at him. He was looking at her with a narrow-eyed gleam that made her nervous. He could not know she lied—could he? How could she have possibly given herself away?
"Who do the kids belong to?"
"Are you talking about my children?" She tried to inject a note of amazement into her voice.
"Don't give me that. You don't have any kids. And you're not married."
"What on earth makes you say that?" This time, she thought, the amazement was rather better done. She did wonder what made him think it. Personally, she thought her tale had been pretty convincing.
"Two
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