One Grave Less

neck as a scotch against the sweat and to afford her bare skin some protection from the bugs.
    Rosetta handed her a bowl of soup. “You look colorful,” she said.
    “Trying to keep the bugs out of my hair. Do you want me to make you one?”
    “Okay. Let’s eat first,” said Rosetta.
    They sat in the back of the truck and ate the soup with the last of the bread. Rosetta had used a lot of vegetables, so it was more of a stew. It tasted good. She had boiled some beef jerky with it and, though it was a little chewy, it added flavor. And it was protein.
    “You look happy,” said Rosetta. “You like finding these ruins, don’t you?”
    “I do. I wish we could stay and explore. But maybe I can come back,” she said.
    “Would you really come back here?” asked Rosetta.
    “Sure. With armed guards,” Maria said, smiling at her and taking a spoonful of soup.
    The sound of the jungle was loud. It was almost like music the way the birds and monkeys called to one another. She wished she had the luxury to sit and enjoy it. She hadn’t expected an adventure when she got here—just look at a few sites, talk with some archaeologists, and meet up with a tour group from Atlanta. She wondered if she had been reported missing or if they just thought she’d changed her mind. Foolish not to be more definite with her plans. She wasn’t a good traveler. She hadn’t been careful enough.
    “Good food, Rosetta. I don’t know what I’d be eating if I were alone. I’d probably end up poisoning myself.”
    “We still have bars and the jerky I took from the Ferreras. I took a lot of stuff that wasn’t mine. Jopito really liked his new clothes, especially these boots, and these protein bars were his. I’ll bet he’s really mad.” Rosetta didn’t look happy at the prospect.
    “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” said Maria. “Those people who kidnapped me had no right to do that. People have no right to bully you, kill you, take away your freedom, or hurt you in any way. If Jopito Ferrera lost his good clothes, it is a small price to pay. Consider it reparations for his bullying you. We did what we had to, to escape.”
    Rosetta nodded and took another bite of her soup. “I can cook better than this,” she said.
    “This is great. I’ll bet you’re a real chef in a kitchen with equipment and fresh food.”
    “I am. If you can cook, you are useful. Around here you have to be useful,” she said.
    “We are going to get out of this,” said Maria. “I have a plan. We are going to get to a place called Benjamin Constant. I’m thinking there will be telephone service and I can call for help. We’ll call your mother. She will be so glad to hear from you. I’m going to call my boyfriend and ask him to contact the embassies . . .”
    Rosetta shook her head vigorously. “No, I told you, we can’t. That’s where the bad man is.”
    “Rosetta, listen to me. He can’t have that much influence. Do you know which embassy he worked for?”
    Rosetta shook her head.
    “This is a good plan,” said Maria. “We have money. We’ll find an inn and wait for help. We should be safe.”
    Rosetta put her bowl down and started crying. She tried to climb out of the truck, but Maria pulled her back, put her own food down, and held on to her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.
    “Tell me what’s wrong, baby girl.” Maria’s voice was very quiet.
    Rosetta cried for several minutes. Maria didn’t push her. She stroked her hair and rocked her.
    “I don’t have any papers,” said Rosetta into Maria’s shirt. Her voice was muffled and so soft Maria almost didn’t understand her.
    “Neither do I. Mine were lost when I tried to get away from my kidnappers. They are down a river somewhere. We can get new papers,” she said.
    Rosetta shook her head without looking up. “No. Mama was waiting for papers. They never came before the bad stuff happened. The bad man said she was not really my mama because the papers didn’t come.”
    The adoption hadn’t gone through, thought Maria. That added a complication. There was no way she could take a child across all the borders they had to cross with no papers. Perhaps just her word that Rosetta was her child would do. But her original visa didn’t list a child with her. Damn.
    Maria held Rosetta so she could see her face. She put a hand under her chin.
    “I’ve never liked paperwork. What matters is that in your heart Diane Fallon is your mother, and in her