by Marin Thomas
But even good things had to end sometime. “I have work to do,” she murmured.
He brushed a strand of loose hair from her cheek. “Right. I’ll fix the boxes.”
Before she had a chance to tell him where the screws were, Mrs. Padrón approached, carrying her dog.
“How’re the granny and her mutt doing?” Aaron whispered.
“The dog hasn’t been eating for a couple of days. She asked for you earlier in the week. Hoped you could make it eat.”
“Me? I don’t know anything about feeding dogs.”
Jennifer couldn’t recall the elderly woman ever requesting assistance from anyone. That she sought Aaron’s aid spoke volumes about her faith in him. A tiny voice in her head insisted, You should trust him, too.
Jennifer noticed the concern on Aaron’s face when the old woman and her dog stopped in front of them. How did Jennifer expect to keep her defenses up around a man who was concerned about a grumpy granny and a smelly, ill-behaved dog?
“Senõr Smith, he no eat.” Mrs. Padrón shoved the dirty dog into Aaron’s arms.
Unable to do anything but grab the animal, he snuggled the small, lethargic mop of fur against his chest. Jennifer imagined a day at the doggie spa would improve the little guy’s disposition. She wouldn’t have an appetite, either, if she stank like a garbage Dumpster outside an all-night diner.
“Have you checked with a vet?” Aaron held the dog out in front of him and studied the matted face.
“No. Bebe agua. No come su alimento.”
“He drinks water, but doesn’t eat his food,” Jennifer translated for Aaron. That Mrs. Padrón spoke in Spanish told Jennifer how upset the woman was.
“What kind of food are you feeding him?”
Mrs. Padrõn removed a can of dog food from the front pocket of her housecoat.
Aaron examined the ingredients on the label. “Have you tried a different brand?”
After reaching into the same pocket, the old woman removed a small handful of dry nuggets.
“C’mon, little guy. Eat up.” Aaron held a nugget in front of the dog’s mouth, but the mutt ignored it. “I better drive him to the vet.”
Mrs. Padrón shook her head.
“Why not?” Aaron asked.
“Mucho dinero.”
Tucking the dog under his armpit, he turned to Jennifer. “I’ll pay the bill.”
Jennifer wasn’t sure who looked more pathetic—the sick dog, Aaron, now frowning with worry, or Mrs. Padrón, whose trembling hand smoothed the dog’s matted fur.
“Does the dog have a name?” Aaron directed his question to the pet owner.
“Perro. I call him Perro.”
“What does perro mean?” Aaron asked.
“Dog,” Jennifer answered, then bit her lip to keep from laughing at the bewildered look on Aaron’s face.
As if to protect the animal against the humiliation of having such a boring moniker, Aaron snuggled him closer. “Has he ever been sick before, Mrs. Padrón?”
“No.”
Aaron put his arm around the woman’s bony shoulders and hugged her to his side. “Dog will be good as new soon.”
Jennifer swallowed hard. The sight of Aaron holding the mutt while comforting an old lady was more than she could bear. Everything about the man went straight to the heart.
He motioned to the house. “When I return, I’ll repair the window boxes.”
“Don’t worry.” She cleared the hoarseness from her throat. “Juan should be here soon and he’ll fix them.”
“Where’s the nearest vet?”
She pointed south. “Sixth Street. Take a right at the end of the block. It’s about four miles down on the left.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for understanding.”
Jennifer watched Aaron place the dog on the front seat of his truck, then he shut the door and climbed in the driver’s side. As he pulled away, Mrs. Padrón commented, “Señor Smith muy bueno hombre.”
The simple act of breathing pinched Jennifer’s lungs. “Yeah. Aaron’s a very good man. The forever kind.” Now, if she could convince herself that she deserved to keep him.
“Buenos días, Señora Padrón,” Juan greeted the older woman. “Was that Smith who drove off?” he asked Jennifer.
“Aaron’s chauffeuring Mrs. Padrón’s dog to the vet.”
“Why?”
“The animal hasn’t eaten in a few days,” she answered.
“What about that?” Juan pointed to the lopsided flower box.
Jennifer cringed at the I-told-you-so gleam in Juan’s eyes. “I’m positive you believe I was loco to wait for Aaron to return—”
“I leave now.” The old woman patted Jennifer’s hand affectionately, then headed across the street to her home.
“Never mind,” Juan said. “Whatever is going on between you and Smith is none of my business.”
In a low voice, she asked, “Then why did you warn against getting serious with Aaron?”
“Because. He’s a nice enough guy, but he’s not one of us.”
“One of us?”
Juan stared at her as if her brain had fallen out of her head. “He’s not a latino.”
“That smacks of prejudice.”
“The barrio is your home. Your life. Who you are. Smith will never be comfortable here.”
She perched her hands on her hips and glared. “Are you saying that I could never fit into his world?” Pictures of Aaron’s apartment, his furnishings and the damn private elevator flashed through her mind.
Maybe Aaron had material wealth, but he didn’t act as if he absolutely had to live that way. If he did, he sure wouldn’t be pounding nails into two-by-fours…would he?
Whether he’d been born into money or he’d made his fortune doing something else, she didn’t have a clue. But she was certain that his being rich or white or anything else didn’t influence her feelings for him.
She wanted to tell Juan the reason she and Aaron couldn’t be together had nothing to do with their cultural backgrounds and everything to do with her. She wasn’t good enough for Aaron.
Juan shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong. Did Smith say where he’d been all week?”
“He didn’t have time.” Jennifer had no reason to believe Aaron wouldn’t eventually explain things. A part of her wished their relationship could stay the same day in and day out. Work together on the next job. Eat out together. More walks on the beach would be nice. And making love…ah, that was all she wanted. All she needed. For a little while longer. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But how could she convince Aaron to settle for a relationship that had nowhere to go? He was the kind of man who’d eventually desire more…wasn’t he?
“WORMS?” Aaron gagged when the veterinarian held up a jar of whitish-gray strings that didn’t resemble any worms he’d ever encountered.
“The dog has heartworm.” The female doctor leaned against the examining table and crossed her arms. She was almost as tall and broad as Aaron, and he felt like a kid facing a female version of the Terminator.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
She switched her attention to Dog, lying quietly in Aaron’s lap. “You’re right. Dog is showing signs of moderate infection.”
“What kinds of signs?”
“Coughing, exercise intolerance and abnormal lung sounds.”
“He’s not going to die, is he?” Aaron glanced at the gristly mass floating inside the jar and couldn’t believe they were living inside the tiny fur ball.
“He has a chance. First we’ll run a few more tests to check the condition of his heart, liver and kidneys. If they’re in reasonable shape, then we’ll administer an arsenic compound that will begin killing the worms.”
“How long before he’s better?”
“A while. Dog will require another injection in four weeks and a month or more of inactivity to recover.”
Aaron pictured Dog racing along the fence, barking at anyone and anything that moved. “Why no
exercise?”
“After the adult worms are killed, Dog’s body has to absorb them. Any strenuous exercise can cause the dead worms to dislodge, travel to the lungs and cause death.”
“Sounds serious.”
“If he’d been brought in for regular checkups, the disease would have been detected at a much earlier stage, with less risk to Dog.”
“He will be okay, right?”
“Depends on how Dog’s body reacts to the treatment.
“Normally, I’d administer the treatment, then send the animal home with the owner. In Dog’s case, I believe it would be best to keep him at the clinic. I’ll be able to better monitor his liver, kidney and heart functions.”
“Sure.”
“You’ll need to make payment arrangements at the desk, and be sure to leave a number where you can be reached. Take a few minutes to say goodbye.” With a nod of her bushy-haired head, the doctor left the room.
Aaron held the mutt up at eye level. “Hang in there, big guy. You’re in good hands. In no time you’ll be terrorizing the neighborhood with your ferocious growl and annoying bark.” His chest squeezed painfully when Dog licked his face. “Hey, knock that off. Guys don’t kiss.”
A giggle alerted him to the young vet tech waiting in the doorway. Embarrassed, Aaron stood and handed Dog over. With one last pat on the head, he left the room, determined to ignore the weird feeling in his chest. Perro was just a stupid dog.
He paid for Dog’s treatment and left his cell number with the receptionist. Then he contacted his grandfather and informed him that he wouldn’t be able to pick him up, due to the unplanned trip to the vet. Pop agreed to catch a limo and meet him at the ceremony.
Before heading to Mrs. Benitos’s house, he stopped at the corner market and purchased a small bouquet of fresh flowers for Jennifer. By the time he turned on to Riker Avenue, a crowd had assembled on the front lawn. Leaving the flowers in the truck, he hurried up Mrs. Padrón’s porch steps and rang the bell.
“Senõr Smith?” she said when she opened the door and saw him standing there.
“Mrs. Padrón, I wanted to let you know Dog has worms, but he’s going to be fine. The vet will keep him for two weeks—”
“¡Dos semanas!” She pressed her hand to her chest and gasped.
“Don’t be upset. They intend to watch him and make sure he gets plenty of rest.”
“But he all alone, mi Perro.”
He couldn’t stand to see the tears shining in the old woman’s eyes. “I’ll take you to visit him.”
She sniffed. “Tomorrow?”
Oh, boy. “Sure, tomorrow.”
“Bien. Now I go to celebration.” She stepped onto the porch, shut the door behind her, then clasped Aaron’s arm.
Feeling as if he were an usher at a wedding, he escorted the old lady across the street. When he spotted his grandfather standing off to the side, he dragged Mrs. Padrón with him. “Hey, Pop.”
“Grandson.” Eyes smiling, his grandfather motioned to the older woman. “Is this the lovely woman you’ve fallen head over heels for?”
Aaron’s face heated. “Pop, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Padrón. She lives across the street and owns the dog I took to the vet.”
His grandfather lifted the elderly woman’s hand to his mouth. “A pleasure, señora.”
“señora su abuelo él es hermoso.” Mrs. Padrón fluttered her eyes.
“Gracias, Señora Padrón.”
Aaron gawked at his grandfather. “You speak Spanish?”
“I’ve learned a few words over the years. Enough to understand this gracious woman believes I’m quite handsome.”
Oh, brother. Before Aaron could respond to his grandfather’s comment, a reporter shouted, then rushed toward the front porch where Jennifer and Mrs. Benitos stood, looking for all the world like two queens about to hold court.
Chapter Thirteen
“Welcome family, friends, neighbors and members of the media. My name is Harold Rodriguez, president of Barrio Amigo, a nonprofit organization whose goal is to promote a sense of pride and a spirit of togetherness in our community by helping those in need.”
Aaron grimaced when his grandfather’s elbow dug into his side. Along with nearly two hundred residents eager to view Mrs. Benitos’s new home, Aaron stood in the middle of the street, sandwiched between his grandfather and Mrs. Padrón. Babies cried, children whined, old men coughed and ladies sneezed, creating a din that made hearing Jennifer’s boss difficult, even though he spoke into a microphone.
“This fine house has been built for a woman in our community who has earned the respect and admiration of the residents of Santa Angelita. Mrs. Benitos has dedicated her life to the children of this barrio. For years she has opened her home and heart to the little ones.”
Applause rumbled through the crowd.
“When you tour this residence, think of the many children who will live, love and laugh within its walls. I encourage you to offer your blessings to those who seek shelter here that they find the love and encouragement they require to grow into productive adults. Before we cut the ribbon, I’d like to introduce the foreman of this project, Ms. Jennifer Alvarado.”
Cat calls and whistles accompanied Jennifer as she accepted the microphone. The beautiful smile that wreathed her face sent a surge of pride through Aaron. She was his woman. The one he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The one he wanted to have children with. The one he dreamed of growing old with. The one.
The crowd continued to clap and shout, showing no sign of quieting down. Never more than now did he understand that Jennifer was in her element. These were her people. Her life. Her destiny. Here was where she was meant to be. If he took her away from the barrio, she wouldn’t be the same woman he’d fallen in love with.
Figuring out how to blend their lives wouldn’t be easy. But he’d make it work.
“This is the Jennifer you have fallen head over heels for?” Pop nudged Aaron’s side.
“Yeah. She’s something, isn’t she?”
“She steals my breath.”
Wearing faded, hip-hugging blue jeans, a Barrio Amigo T-shirt and scuffed work boots, with her worn tool belt slung around her hips, Jennifer was…wow. Aaron grinned at his grandfather. “She does have a way of making men gasp for air.”
After a few minutes the crowd settled and Jennifer spoke. “Our organization has helped many experiencing hardship over the years, but we haven’t been alone.” She motioned to the large landscape boulder in the flower bed next to the porch. “This rock is engraved with the name of a Los Angeles company whose generous financial contribution made the completion of this home possible. Please offer a warm welcome to Mr. Steven Dean, vice president of McKade Import-Export.”
Aaron craned his neck over the crowd to watch his vice president walk to the porch, flashing an “I may be a short man, but I have lots of power” smile.
“Thank you, Ms. Alvarado.” Microphone in hand, Steve faced the gathering. “A pleasure to be here in Santa Angelita and participate in today’s ceremony.” He rolled forward on the balls of his feet, adding another half inch to his five-five height. “McKade Import-Export is honored to have been able to support such a worthy cause. Nelson McKade, the founder of this great company, was born in Ireland.”
Oh, no. Not the McKade family history lecture.
“In 1890, at the age of two months, he and his parents boarded a passenger vessel. Like many others, the McKades were seeking to make a better life for themselves in this great land we call America.”
Aaron and Pop groaned simultaneously. Steve loved being the center of attention. He’d drag out his time in front of the media for as long as he could.
“At the age of sixteen, Nelson began working on the docks in New York City. He learned the import-export business from the ground up. By the time he’d turned thirty, he’d saved enough money to start his own venture. Nelson McKade passed his business down to his only son, Patrick, who has expanded the company, w
ith additional offices in Chicago and Los Angeles.”
Jeez, Dean. These people don’t want to hear this crap. They came to see the house. Aaron glanced around, surprised that the crowd, minus the kids and babies, appeared to be hanging on each word out of Dean’s mouth.
“The L.A. branch of McKade Import-Export does business with Latin America. As a company we strive not only to make money but also to bring prosperity to others.”
A bit of a stretch there.
“For example, Ms. Alvarado’s brother, Antonio, has recently been accepted into our internship program for college graduates.” Dean motioned to the young man standing off to the side of the porch. Scattered applause erupted and Antonio nodded in appreciation.
Oh, hell. Aaron prayed Steve didn’t announce that Aaron and Jennifer were an item.
“Antonio shares the same ideals as McKade Import-Export—making the world a better place.”
Give me a break, Dean. If the guy didn’t lighten up, tissues would be pulled from the purses.
“Antonio’s keen business mind has benefited our company and your community. With this young man’s assistance, we’ve negotiated a deal between local textile manufactures and hotel chains in Latin America. That translates to more jobs for this community.”
Shouts and whistles rang through the air, while several men stepped forward and patted Antonio on the back. Jennifer’s face glowed with pride and even Pop applauded, appearing to have been swept along in the crowd’s enthusiasm.
“The monetary assistance McKade Import-Export has donated is nothing compared with the hours given by those who built this house and the love of the neighbors and friends who contributed furnishings for this worthy cause.” Steve fished in his front pants pocket and removed a set of keys, which he held up for the crowd to view. “We’d be honored if Mrs. Benitos would accept a final gift from our company—a minivan with ample space for children of all ages.”
Discreetly wiping her eyes, the foster-care mother stepped forward. Steve, normally reserved and stuffy, shocked Aaron when he hugged the older woman.