Awaken My Heart by DiAnn Mills

Author:DiAnn Mills [DiAnn Mills]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061738456
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2007-09-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Armando knew what Bernardino wanted to hear, but pleasing this dear man meant lying. He had too much respect for the humble padre to resort to such low means.

Finally Armando spoke. “If only to console the heaviness in your heart, I would gladly come to confession, even take my vows. But I cannot live in deceit.” He peered into the clear, compassionate eyes of his amigo. “I owe you my life, the work of my hands, but not my soul.”

“Stating that you don’t owe me your soul says you believe in Dios,” the padre said. “I will continue to pray.” His face held an ethereal glow, and Armando saw the visible peace that he sorely desired for himself.

Armando studied the ruts in the road. Could Bernardino not see he didn’t need Dios? With an inward sigh, he forced himself to examine the truth. When anger did not override his senses, he wanted to believe Dios existed for all of mankind.

“I see the worried frown on your face,” Bernardino said. “We don’t need to talk of such things now. I have a matter of great concern to discuss with you, not of La Flor or Señor Phillips, but of your father, Joseph Garcia. I wanted to settle things with the governor before I shared with you that Joseph contacted me.”

Armando immediately focused his attention on what the padre had to say. Each time he believed his father didn’t matter to him, something nudged him and a host of old memories, both good and bad, crowded his thoughts. Masking his turmoil, he turned to Bernardino. “And what about this man do you wish to relay?”

“After you left the mission, I received a letter from him to give to you. Since that time, you haven’t returned for me to place it in your hands. And those few times I visited La Flor, you were absent.”

“What does it say?” Armando kept his gaze on the dirt road ahead, attempting not to sound overly anxious or even to care about the letter’s contents.

“I haven’t read it, only the portion addressed to me.” Bernardino pulled a leather drawstring bag from inside the folds of his robe. “I placed it in here to protect it.” He held out the bag to Armando. “It’s yours. Perhaps it will ease the bitterness of his departure. I feared,” he sighed, “if the solidats arrested you, you might never know his words for you.”

Armando took the pouch, deeply touched that his friend cared so much to keep the letter. He fingered the yellowed paper and mentally calculated when he’d be alone to read its contents. Placing it inside his shirt, he wondered if the words would feel as soft and supple as the leather against his skin.

“Your father was a good man,” Bernardino said. “He went to his grave loving you and your madre.”

Armando clenched his jaw to keep from firing the words coursing through his mind. “Enough to leave us?” he asked. “Enough to send mi madre to an

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