Chapter 8
EIGHT
This didn’t have to be complicated. All Declan had to do was get alone with whatever immigration official they met in port and ask to talk to the US embassy. And if it got hairy, he could add a few dollar signs to his request.
At least, that was his plan as he stood in the tiny crew cabin looking out the port window, sweat running down the back of his shirt.
Belle—although maybe he should call her Phoenix, because clearly that was the name Stein knew her as—sat on the lower bunk with Austen, who had her legs pulled up, her arms resting on her knees, her head back against the wall.
Phoenix looked as if she’d like to have another go at her attempt to take him out in Barcelona.
Steinbeck held up a wall near the door, his arms folded, stoic.
The entire place swam with the odor of sweat and hot metal saturated in the brine of the sea.
At least they weren’t starving. The captain had had the decency to feed them—a bowl of rice and beans and some hard bread—before locking them in the crew quarters.
Declan had tried to reason with him. Americans. Lost at sea. But apparently his rudimentary Spanish wasn’t enough to convince the captain, especially since they all came minus any identification. So maybe it was up to a stack of promised greenbacks from Declan to keep them out of Cuban custody.
“How long till we get to port?” Phoenix said.
“My guess is midmorning,” Declan answered.
“So we have about four hours to figure out how to get off this boat.” Steinbeck frowned.
“Calm down,” Declan said. “I have a plan.”
“Oh, goody, goody,” Steinbeck snapped. “Because your plans are so fantastic.”
Declan’s mouth gaped. “Listen, Joe Impulsive. I get that it was my fault that my yacht got boarded. I own that. But it’s fate that landed us on this fishing boat. One simple conversation with the right authorities should iron this all out.”
Steinbeck stared at him. “Are you serious? Because the minute they find out that I was with the teams, everything changes. And your background isn’t stellar either.” He directed that at Phoenix.
“What?” She leaned up. “I’m a ghost. Nobody knows who I am.”
“Exactly. You don’t think that’s going to raise a few red flags?” Steinbeck shook his head. “No, we’re all headed for detention at best.”
“I’ll reason with them,” Declan said.
“Money doesn’t always trump ideology,” said Phoenix.
“American–Cuban relations aren’t so great right now, and when they figure out who you are, suddenly this won’t be a diplomatic event.
It will be a ransom .” Phoenix shook her head and looked at the porthole.
“You guys should have just left me floating at sea.”
“You shouldn’t have taken off!” Steinbeck said, glancing at her.
She held up a hand as if to stiff-arm his words.
Austen sighed and lowered her head into her arms.
“You okay, sis?” Steinbeck asked.
“Yeah,” she said and raised her head. “I’m just praying.”
Declan looked away. “Not sure God’s going to get us out of this one.”
She frowned at him. “Of course He is.”
He met her gaze. Silence fell between them.
Then, “I think it’s pretty clear that we’re in over our heads here.
I mean, we’re locked inside a smelly crew berth on our way to a communist country.
I feel like maybe God has abandoned us.” Or worse, was laughing at them.
But he couldn’t manage that thought aloud.
“God never abandons us,” she said.
Yeah, well, maybe he wore his argument on his face, because Austen sat up and hung her legs over the edge of the cot.
“Do you really believe that? That we can get into so much trouble that God abandons us? That’s exactly when he shows up.”
He shook his head. “Maybe that’s true for some people, but.
..” He couldn’t look at her. “He didn’t show up when my younger brother was hit by a car.
I sat in the hospital chapel, listening to my mom pray all the way to the moment when the doctor came in and said that he was gone.
He was ten years old. Delivering papers on his route.
So the best-case scenario is that God looked away.
” He met her eyes then. “Or He just didn’t care. ”
She frowned.
“We’re in this alone, Austen.”
He paused, and no one made a move to respond. He took a breath and ran his hands down his face. “Listen, I know things happen. But everything changed after that. His medical bills swamped my mom, and I tried to help, but she worked herself to an early death. Where was God then?”
More silence. Then, from Austen: “I’m so sorry. And I’m not going to say something stupid like there’s a reason for everything. But I do know that in the midst of terrible things, God does show up.”
He glanced at her.
She met his gaze, raised an eyebrow. “We run out of gas, and at that very moment, we see a boat?”
“A boat on the way to Cuba ,” Declan said. “Maybe it would have been better if we had stayed at sea. Thanks, but I’ll rescue myself.”
“Then you’ll miss the grace of God’s provision. Just because you land in the belly of a whale doesn’t mean that God isn’t in the middle of rescuing you.”
Whale? Oh, wait. He’d heard a Bible story about that.
“And what if he doesn’t rescue us?” Phoenix said. “Just like Declan said.”
Declan looked at her, and she didn’t meet his eyes but lifted her shoulder in a shrug.
“Then,” Austen said, “we’re not meant to be rescued in that moment. Or in the way we think. But I can guarantee you that God does rescue us. Not always in the way that we want, but definitely according to His great plan for us.”
“So His great plan for us includes sitting in a Cuban prison?” Declan said.
She sighed. “Either we trust that God is good and that He has a plan, or we go our own way and try to figure it out ourselves.” She glanced at Declan.
“Not to throw shade on anyone, but it’s possible that if we stop trying so hard to fix things, God will step in.
” She looked at Stein then. “‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’”
Stein’s mouth tightened.
She offered them all a small smile.
And oh, Declan wanted to prove to her that he wasn’t the guy Steinbeck and Phoenix said he was. That sure, he’d made some big mistakes, but she could trust him. Really.
Austen looked at Steinbeck, then back at Declan.
“Everyone thinks that God won’t give us more than we can handle.
But that’s not true. In fact, that thought is absolutely contrary to the nature of God.
He puts us in situations that are over our heads because He wants us to need Him.
Paul said that when he was sitting in a prison in the bottom of a ship, during a storm at sea that overwhelmed them to the point where they gave up hope of being saved.
In another passage, Paul talks about their troubles in Asia as being so dire, they despaired of life itself.
That doesn’t sound like something they could handle on their own. ”
Her voice softened. “I know it’s terrifying to be in a place where we can’t control things. But we have to trust that God is good and He is sovereign. Even in Cuba.”
Declan wanted to let her words seep in, find a place in his soul.
“There’s land out there,” Phoenix said. “Looks like we’re coming into port.”
Steinbeck stood up. “Now comes the fun.”
Austen drew in a breath.
Declan couldn’t help it. He moved beside her. “No matter what happens, I will get you out of here. No matter what it takes.” He touched her hand. “I promise.”
For a moment, she gripped his hand back. “I know.” And then she touched her other hand to his face, her eyes sweet and gentle. “And that’s what scares me.”
He frowned, but the sound of a lock releasing clattered at the door before it squealed open. A couple of sailors stood in the opening.
“The captain wants to see you,” one of them said in Spanish. He pointed to Declan.
“What about my friends?”
“Just you.”
He turned to Steinbeck. “Sit tight. This will all be over soon.”
At least, if he had it his way.
* * *
“Stein. You and I need to get off this ship,” Emberly said as Declan stepped out into the hallway.
The door closed and locked behind him.
“Before we get into port.” She looked at Steinbeck as she said it, and she probably deserved the wide eyes that he gave her back.
Because yes, she had tried to ditch him earlier in the ocean.
Maybe not her brightest move. Okay, she’d blame panic.
And she didn’t do panic. It never worked out in her favor.
So of course he’d tracked her down and she’d climbed aboard the tender without a fight.
What was it that Mystique, her Black Swans boss, always said? “Live to fight another day”?
That day was here.
“How do you propose we do that?” Steinbeck said, leaning over her to look out the window.
“I’m not sure yet, but I do know we can’t go ashore. A background check on you is only going to land you in some dark hole someplace. You’ll disappear while they try to pry American secrets out of you.”
His mouth twisted. “They’re not going to get any.”
Yeah. That’s what really scared her. Because Steinbeck, at his heart, was a patriot. She’d met that patriot up close and personal three years ago. So no way, no how did she want him in the hands of some communist Cubans.
Or Russians.
And maybe she shouldn’t care that much, but, shoot , she had started to care. Hadn’t even minded that much when he’d caught up with her in the ocean. The fact that he’d come after her despite her trying to ditch him made her feel, well, maybe not as alone.
Which was why she said we and shot the idea across the bow.
“I watched these guys when we came in. They’re not armed. They’re just a bunch of fishermen who are tired and hungry from being out at sea. They’re not going to put up much of a fight. We get off the ship and we go from there.”
Steinbeck glanced at his sister and then back at Emberly. “I’m not leaving my sister.”