by Linda Warren
Gail sighed. “Abby, I just don’t understand why you have to do this.”
“Mom, please, we’ve been all through this,” Abby said. “I have doubts about Mr. Brewster, too. That’s why I had him write that letter. That’s all that interests me—reading the letter and knowing the truth. I plan on printing it in the Hope Herald so everyone can read it. I’m also going to run it in my paper in Dallas.”
“What if it’s something you don’t want to hear?”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
Gail didn’t answer. She put her cup in the sink and turned slowly around.
“Mom.”
“You have this image of your father as a saint, but he was human just like everyone else.”
Abby jumped to her feet. “Don’t say anything bad about Daddy.”
Gail blinked back a tear. “I’m not saying anything bad. I’m trying to make you listen. Can’t you see I can’t take any more? You have to stop this.”
The silence was suffocating, and for the first time Abby weakened in her resolve. Everyone was trying to talk her out of going…even Jonas. Why couldn’t she listen? How could she hurt her mother like this?
She walked over and hugged Gail. “I’m sorry.”
Gail held her tight. “Don’t go, Abby. Don’t go.”
Abby shook her head and stepped away from her mother. “Jonas and I are leaving this morning. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try not to worry.” With that, she headed for her room.
“Abby.” Gail’s voice sounded as if she was close to tears.
Abby stopped and waited.
“Be careful, sweetheart. Please be very careful,” Gail murmured.
“I will,” Abby replied, and walked toward her bedroom…and the unknown future.
SHE DRESSED QUICKLY in a pair of old jeans and a cotton shirt. She pinned up her hair and didn’t use any makeup. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
Jonas arrived at precisely eight o’clock. He was wearing his usual jeans, chambray shirt, boots and hat. He looked so handsome that her heart missed a beat. She eyed his lean frame and remembered how that hard body had felt against hers.
“Are you ready?” she asked, mostly to change the direction of her thoughts.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answered sardonically, and followed her down the walk to his truck.
She didn’t mistake his tone but she didn’t say anything until she’d climbed into the vehicle. “Don’t start,” she warned, and buckled her seat belt. “I’ve already been through this with my mom and that’s all I can handle.”
“I wasn’t going to say a word,” he said as he pulled the truck away from the curb and headed toward the international bridge. “I’ve already learned that you have a head like cement.”
She frowned at him. “That’s not much of a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” Then, as if he realized he may have hurt her feelings, he added, “But you cook very well. Thanks for supper last night.”
That didn’t quite make up for his earlier insult, but she decided to be gracious. “You’re welcome.”
They didn’t speak again until they drove into the parking area at the bridge. People were already walking across, and several vehicles were waiting to be cleared by Customs.
“Did you see Mr. Brewster this morning?” Abby asked, unbuckling the seat belt.
“Yeah, and he was a little too excited. He’s convinced we’ll find his daughter.”
“He seems to know how this will end before we even start,” she said in a low voice.
“That’s what bothers me,” Jonas said.
“Well, let’s go find Delores Alvarez and get some answers.”
“Leave your purse in the glove compartment,” he instructed, as she started to get out. “One less thing to worry about. Put your ID and some money into your pocket.”
She did as he suggested, and he locked the bag away. They got out, and Jonas paid the man in the booth to leave his truck in the parking lot. Then they paid the tourist toll and started over the bridge. Abby stared through the chain-link wire into the muddy green Rio Grande River.
An eerie feeling came over her as they walked from Texas into Mexico. Mexican children not more than five years old had climbed the fence and hung from it with one hand, while begging with the other. Others were standing with both hands out. Abby reached into her pockets.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jonas said. “If you give them a penny, they’ll follow wanting more. It’s how their parents make a living.”
“I know. It’s so sad.”
“It’s life here, so get used to it.”
His voice was gruff, but Abby knew that he sympathized with the plight of these kids. Life here was very different. Vendors filled the crowded street. Fresh fruit was peddled on every corner and gift shops overflowed with jewelry, precious metals, leather goods, colorful pottery and embroidered cloth. Most of the customers were Americans. Tourists spilled into the tiny stores looking for bargains. The drugstores were particularly busy. Medicines cost less on this side of the border, and prescriptions weren’t needed. All one had to have was the name of the drug. Nothing here was regulated.
They had to thread their way among the crowds to get through the small town. When they were almost at the edge of town, an old woman, with gray hair twisted into a knot, held out a denim jacket in front of Abby. “You buy, you buy?” She smiled, and Abby saw that she had no teeth. Abby studied the jacket. It had beautiful embroidery work on the front and back; delicate flowers interwoven with leaves and petals.
Abby touched the lovely jacket. “It’s very nice.”
“Sì, sì, you buy?” The old woman smiled broadly.
“Abby, we’re not here to shop,” Jonas said sternly.
“Just look at this,” she pleaded.
“Abby.” There was a warning in his voice now, but she ignored it.
“How much?” she asked the woman.
“Twenty dollar,” she replied in her broken English.
“Abby.”
“The jacket is exquisite,” she said. “It’s all hand done, and it must have taken her days to embroider it.”
She fished a twenty out of her pocket and paid the woman. Then she noticed Jonas remove his wallet and shove something into the woman’s hand.
“Oh, señor, gracias, gracias.” The old woman beamed.
Jonas nodded.
“What did you give her that made her so grateful?” Abby asked, as they moved on.
“Nothing” was the short answer.
“Jonas…”
“Are we gonna shop or are we gonna find Delores Alvarez?” he said in an aggravated tone.
“Don’t be so grouchy,” she retorted. “You’re acting just like Mr. Brewster.”
He swung around to face her, and they came to a complete stop. His brown eyes were almost black. “Don’t you ever say that to me—ever.”
Abby wasn’t afraid. She was just taken aback. It wasn’t like him to be so short-tempered. But before she could respond, he apologized.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that this place always upsets me. So much poverty. So much misery.”
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was thoughtless.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away. She quickly followed. She knew exactly why he was upset. He was afraid of his anger—afraid that he was like his father.
She ran ahead and faced him, but he wouldn’t stop. She jogged backward talking to him. “Jonas, stop so I can talk to you.”
He kept walking.
Finally she grabbed his arms with both hands, forcing him to stand still. She felt him tense. She looked into his eyes, but he was staring off into space. It didn’t stop her.
“You’re allowed to get angry,” she told him. “I said a stupid thing, but I knew you weren’t going to hit me. You would never do that. You’re nothing like your father.”
A breath came from
the bottom of his chest, and he pulled away from her. “Stop analyzing me, Abby, and leave me—”
“No, I’m not leaving you alone,” she snapped as if she were reading his mind.
“Why? Am I a challenge to your journalist’s instincts? Is that’s why you kissed me and asked me to kiss you?” His voice was as cold as steel.
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then, tell me how it was.”
Her eyes didn’t waver from his as she grappled for the words to tell him. She felt ashamed and foolish, but she wasn’t going to let him believe something that wasn’t true. “Kyle put a dent in my self-esteem,” she said reluctantly. “I didn’t feel attractive or desirable anymore. I didn’t want anything more to do with men, but—”
“But what?” he prompted.
She drew a hard breath. “But when I looked at you, all those negative feelings disappeared, and I wanted to be desired again…by you. That was selfish of me, when you had made it very obvious you didn’t want me.”
If only she knew.
The tightness in his chest eased and he realized they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk with people jostling them, giving them dark stares. He stopped scowling. “Why are we talking about this now…and here?”
She shrugged. “You were upset, and I wanted you to know that everyone gets angry. It’s a human reaction. It doesn’t make you a bad person as long as you don’t take that anger out on someone else. You would never do that. You’re very gentle and considerate, and you’re always in control. I’ve never seen anyone with so much self-control.”
“But I’m so afraid that someday I will lose it.” He’d spoken without thinking. Something about her made him reveal more than he wanted to. And this was definitely not the time or place to talk. He took her arm and began walking. “We’ll discuss this another time. Right now, we need to find Delores Alvarez.”
“Jonas?”
“Later, Abby.”
He was very glad when she relented. He’d deal with the promise he’d just made…later.
THEY LEFT THE PAVED STREETS of the town. Now, when a vehicle passed by, the dust from the dirt road was almost suffocating. Outside the town, most of the dwellings were lean-tos and shacks. Occasionally there was a small concrete or stucco house. Laundry hung on bushes and fences. The poverty all around was heartbreaking.
Some roads had street signs, others didn’t, but they found the road where Delores’s parents lived. The house wasn’t much more than a shack, but it had a front porch. The yard was bare but for some wild cactus. A dog growled from beneath the porch, as Jonas knocked on the door.
The door opened a crack, and an old man peered out.
“Donde esta Delores Alvarez,” Jonas said.
“Vete, vete,” the man said and tried to close the door, but Jonas stuck his boot in the crack.
“Es muy importante,” Jonas added.
“Hace mucho tiempo que se fue,” the man mumbled.
“A donde se fue?” Jonas persisted.
“No se. No esta aqui.”
Though the man spoke quickly, Abby caught most of the conversation. Delores had left a long time ago, and he didn’t know where she was.
Jonas stared at the man an extra second, then removed his foot. The door was immediately closed. They walked away.
“Do you believe him?” Abby asked when they were out of earshot.
“I’m not sure. He could be telling the truth, or maybe someone paid him to keep quiet.”
“But why?”
“I have no idea, but we’ll try a few of the neighbors. They might know something.”
They walked over to one of the concrete houses. A woman sat in an old wooden rocker pasting strips of red, yellow, green and blue papers on a whimsical piñata that would later be sold in town. The yard was dirt, and there was an occasional flower among the cactuses.
“Tu conoce a Delores Alvarez?”
“Sì.”
Abby felt a moment of jubilation.
“Tu savis donde esta?”
“No, hace mucho tiempo que se fue.”
The woman continued to paste the strips. Abby recognized that the woman had said virtually the same thing as the old man. Delores had left a long time ago, and they didn’t know where she was. They tried several more houses and got the same response. It was very frustrating. Suddenly a man pulling a cart loaded with watermelons appeared around a curve. The load was so heavy that the man was struggling to pull it along.
Jonas stopped him. “Cuanto?” he asked.
Abby knew Jonas was asking how much the melons were.
The man wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He held up one finger. “Uno dollar.”
Jonas handed the man a five and took a melon off the cart.
“Sì, sì, señor, gracias, gracias.” The man was bobbing his head in delight.
“Tu conoce a Delores Alvarez?” Jonas asked quickly.
The man’s face changed dramatically. He picked up the cart and trudged away shaking his head.
“Dammit,” Jonas cursed, and stared at the melon in his hands.
“What are you gonna do with that?” Abby asked, laughter edging her voice. She had to laugh or she was going to cry.
A young woman with two boys about ages eight and nine came by, and Jonas gave the melon to them. They smiled and carried it into town, where they’d probably sell it.
Jonas smiled wryly. “Well, at least we’re boosting the economy.”
“That’s about all we’re doing,” she remarked.
By mid-afternoon the temperature was unbearable, so they walked into town and bought Cokes, chips, peanuts and candy bars.
With the goodies in a bag, they made their way out of town again to an oak tree, and sat in the shade beneath its branches. They munched on the junk food, discussing what to do next.
“No one will tell us where she is,” Abby muttered.
“They’re all saying the same thing—left long ago—as if they’ve been told exactly what to say.”
“I don’t understand why someone would do that,” Abby said. “This could only be a good thing for Delores and her daughter. They could have a better life.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense,” Jonas agreed. “Unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless Delores thinks that this is just some game of Brewster’s.”
“He sounded so sincere about a daughter, though.”
“Yeah, I was beginning to believe him, but now I have a feeling something else is going on.”
“What could it be?’ she asked forlornly.
“I don’t know,” he answered, and got to his feet. “But if Delores doesn’t want to be found, we won’t find her. The Mexicans will make sure of that.”
“I thought this would be easy and I’d find out about my father, but now Mr. Brewster is never going to tell me.” A bitter taste settled in her mouth. She had defied everyone for nothing. Her father would forever be the man who had embezzled money from Mr. Brewster.
Jonas reached out as if to give her some comfort. She put her hand in his, and he pulled her to his feet.
“It will be dark in a couple of hours, so we’d better head back for the bridge,” he said.
Before she could respond, a young boy, not more than fifteen, came running up to them. “Señor, señor,” he called to Jonas. “Te digo por dinero donde esta Delores Alvarez?”
Abby caught Delores’s name. He’d said he knew where Delores was and he’d tell them for money. Her heart began to beat a little faster.
“Cuanto?” Jonas asked.
“Cien dollares.”
Jonas eyed the youth’s eager face. “Lleva me a Delores Alvarez.”
“Dinero primero.” The kid held out his hand.
Jonas shook his head. “No dinero hasta veo a Delores.”
The kid’s dark eyes snapped angrily. “Bastardo gringo,” he muttered and ran off.
“Jonas, don’t let him get away,” Abby cried. “He knows where Delores is.”
“He doesn’t. He’s just trying to make a hundred dollars.”
Abby knew Jonas was right. When he’d insisted on seeing Delores first, the youth had gotten angry. But it was hard to let go of that tiny hope.
Jonas retrieved her jacket from the ground and handed it to her. “But it’s all very disturbing. Evidently the whole town knows we’re looking for Delores. Instead of the grapevine opening doors, it’s closed them. That doesn’t make sense. Something’s not right.”
“So what do we do?”
“Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow and give it another try. Someone in this town has to be willing to talk.”
Her heart lifted. “Thank you, Jonas. Thank you.”
He recovered his hat from the ground. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything but waste a day of my off time.”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
He stared into the green of her eyes, losing himself in the pledge he saw there. No mattered what happened, he would find the answers she needed. It was a vow he made to himself…to repay her for these feelings she was bringing to life inside him.
CHAPTER TEN
THEY STARTED WALKING down the dirt road into Nuevo Hope. Abby felt a lot better. At least they weren’t giving up. And tomorrow might prove productive. Several vehicles passed, and Abby could taste the dust in her mouth. She was ready to get back to civilization.
An old truck came up behind them, and they had to move into the ditch to allow it to pass. Still, it barely missed hitting them.
“Stupid fools,” Jonas muttered, as they made their way onto the road again.
The truck stopped ahead of them, smoke billowing out of the tailpipe. It backed up and turned around. The driver gunned the engine and roared toward them at high speed.
“What the hell!” Jonas said, an instant before he caught her hand and began to run.
The truck kept coming—closer and closer. Abby’s breath was locked in her throat and her legs were tight. When it was inches from them, Jonas grabbed her around the waist and jerked her into the ditch. They rolled down a ravine into a cornfield.
Abby was winded and shaken. It took a while for the world to right itself. She lay on top of Jonas, her heart hammering loudly in her ears.