by Judy Duarte
His eyes lit, and he relaxed his stance. “Okay.”
“If you go help Sara put on her shoes, I’ll fix a picnic lunch.”
As Danny dashed off to find his sister, Maria snagged another napkin and did her best to wipe the sadness from her face. Then she grabbed the peanut butter from the cupboard, the strawberry jam from the fridge, and a loaf of bread from the pantry.
Tía Sofía used to say that God never gave someone more than he or she could handle, and Maria hoped that wasn’t just wishful thinking. Surely she’d reached the end of her rope.
She pulled out the breadboard and laid out the fixings for three lunches, then opted to make one for Trevor, too. She wished there was more she could do for the lonely boy, other than giving him an occasional sandwich and cookies.
But how could she help him when she couldn’t even take care of her own kids?
The wheels of Trevor’s skateboard swished upon the sidewalk as he made his way to the park. He’d gotten a late start this morning, thanks to Katie’s alarm, which didn’t go off and made her late to work.
After she’d gone, he’d looked under the bed, where he kept his skateboard and the gear the lady at the park had given him the other day. Then he’d put on the helmet and pads, just the way she’d shown him how. And now he was on his way to the park.
He used his left leg to push off, then rode along for a while, balancing better than ever before. Not that he was Tony Hawk or anyone, but he didn’t fall so much anymore.
As he neared the intersection that was only a couple of blocks from the park, a skinny teenager approached. He wore a black T-shirt and baggy cargo pants that hung so low at the waist that the top of his white boxers showed.
Trevor was going to skate around him, but the kid stepped in front of him and blocked his way, causing him to lose his balance when he came to a stop.
The big kid crossed his arms. “Hey, dude.”
“What do you want?”
“Where’d you get that skateboard?”
Trevor didn’t answer.
The kid narrowed his eyes and frowned. “What’d you do, steal it?”
“No.”
“Well, it looks just like the one my friend used to have, but his was stolen.”
Blurting out, “Too bad/so sad,” or “Finders-keepers,” came to mind, but Trevor clamped his mouth shut. No need to make the kid mad, but he wasn’t about to give up his skateboard, either. Not without a fight. ’Course he’d probably get his butt kicked.
The kid whipped out a cell phone and made a call. “Tito, it’s me. What did Artie’s skateboard look like? Wasn’t it red and black?”
Trevor’s stomach knotted, as he stooped to pick up his board, then pulled it up against his chest like a shield. No way was he going to give it up just ’cause some dumb teenager said so.
The kid lowered the phone from his ear and looked at Trevor. “Turn it over. I wanna see the bottom. My friend had a decal on his.”
Trevor thought about running, but figured the kid would catch him. Besides, his board didn’t have a decal on the bottom. Just on the top. So he turned it around and showed the kid.
“I guess it isn’t Artie’s,” the kid said into the phone. “There isn’t a flame decal on the bottom.”
There was one on the top, though. Trevor’s heart beat so loud he could hear it thumping in his ears.
Instead of moving, the kid just stood there like a big, dumb brick wall.
So Trevor, his heart still pounding like crazy and his body scrambling to act cool, walked around him, clutching his board instead of riding it. If he needed to get away, it would be better to run.
Just then he heard a cell phone ring and the teenager say, “Yeah.”
Trevor picked up his pace.
From behind him, the kid yelled, “Hey, come back here. Let me take a look at the top of that board.”
Trevor ran as fast as he could. For a moment, he thought about heading back home and hiding in the apartment until he felt safe again. But there was no one there. Katie had already left. Besides, she still didn’t even know he had a skateboard.
The park, it seemed, was best. Maybe, with all the people there, one of the adults wouldn’t mind if he sort of hung out by them for a while.
He ran through a parking lot, then jumped behind a hedge, zipping this way and that. When he finally arrived at Mulberry Park, his heart was pounding like a boom box in a lowrider. And even though he was looking for a grown-up, Analisa was the first one to spot him.
Sure enough, she came running, a big smile making her look all happy. As she got closer, she pulled out a folded yellow envelope from her pocket.
Aw, man. Not again.
She was all out of breath when she reached him. “I was hoping you’d come today, Trevor.”
As much as he hated the idea of hanging out with a girl, Analisa really wasn’t so bad. “What do you need this time?”
“I want you to put this in the tree.”
He figured that’s what she was up to again. “Aren’t you afraid you’re bothering God?”
“No one can bother Him, Trevor. He’s everywhere and can do everything.”
He wanted to tell her that maybe God didn’t get bothered, but Trevor did. He kept his mouth shut, though. Analisa had always been nice to him, even if she didn’t know as much about God as she thought she did.
She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking the yellow envelope in her fingers, crunching it. “Besides, God wouldn’t keep making people if He didn’t have time for us.”
Trevor wasn’t sure she knew what she was talking about, but he hoped it was true because he planned to whisper a prayer of his own later today. When he was alone and no one could see him.
First off, he needed all the help God could give him because he didn’t want to get his butt kicked. And second, he didn’t want to lose his skateboard. It wouldn’t be fair.
He’d lost too much already.
Saturday dawned sunny and bright, and as the morning wore on, the temperature rose steadily.
After pulling into a parking space and cutting the engine, Claire glanced in the rearview mirror and checked her lipstick—something she hadn’t stressed about in years. These days, once she put on her makeup in the morning, she rarely freshened it later. Yet she wasn’t naïve enough to pretend she didn’t know why she’d done so now.
While it seemed likely that she would run into both Analisa and Trevor if she arrived in the middle of the day, that was also true of Sam—should he decide to bring lunch again. And although meeting the attorney hadn’t been a part of her strategy, she couldn’t shake the idea that she might see him or that, if she did, she wanted to look her best.
She reached across the console for the basket of doll clothes that rested on the passenger seat, grabbed her purse, slipping the strap over her shoulder, and locked the car.
It was warmer than usual today, and what little breeze there was blew from the west. As she walked along the sidewalk, she scanned the playground for Analisa, spotting her on the swings with several other children. Nearby, a pregnant Latina stooped, tending to a toddler. When the woman straightened and spotted Claire, an awkward sense of recognition passed between them.
Claire didn’t always run into people on the street who’d applied for loans and been turned down, and it wasn’t particularly comfortable when it happened. It was no wonder why they both looked away.
In a shady spot on the grass, Hilda sat in a lawn chair next to Walter. And about ten yards behind them, Trevor, who wore the helmet and pads Claire had given him, had plopped down, his legs crossed, the skateboard resting in his lap. His head was bent as he picked and scratched at a flame decal with his fingernail.
It might have been three years since she’d been a mother, but she knew most boys didn’t sit by themselves for no reason at all. There were usually mitigating circumstances, like a time-out punishment or an injury—either physical or emotional.
Unlike other boys, Trevor always
seemed to hang out by himself anyway. So why wasn’t he practicing on the skateboard?
Unable to help herself, she stopped beside him. “Hey, Trevor. How’s it going?”
He looked up, squinting at the midday sun. “Okay.”
She stepped to the side, casting her shadow over his face. “I see you’re using the pads and helmet.”
“Yeah. Thanks again. I have a feeling I would have really got banged up a few times if I hadn’t had them.”
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Taking a break?”
He nodded, but she wasn’t convinced.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
He glanced over his shoulder, toward the parking lot, as though looking for someone. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“I’d like to talk to you. Do you mind if I sit down for a minute or two?”
“No, go ahead.”
She took a seat on the grass and placed the basket in her lap. “I wanted to tell you something and fill you in on a secret.”
That seemed to perk his attention.
“You know that doll Analisa plays with?” she asked. “The one she calls Lucita?”
He nodded.
Claire tilted the box so he could see inside. “I made her some clothes.”
He shot her a what-kind-of-secret-is-that? expression, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. Erik wouldn’t have been impressed by homemade doll clothes, either.
“Do you know why I made them?” she asked.
Again, he shook his head no.
“Because Analisa’s doll is more than a plaything to her. And do you know why?”
He scrunched his face, indicating that he might actually be wondering why, too, and slowly shook his head.
“Because not so long ago, Analisa lived in another country with her mom and dad. And when her parents died, she came to live with her uncle. That doll represents the life she used to have. It’s like holding onto a memory. Can you understand that?”
Trevor dropped his gaze into his lap, where the skateboard rested. Then he glanced up, his eyes glistening. “Sort of.”
“So even though the doll might seem dumb or ugly to you, it has great value to her. And if someone teases her about her love for the doll, it hurts her feelings.”
“So that’s why you made clothes for the doll?” Trevor asked. “Because you knew how special she thinks it is?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t respond right away, then added, “You gave me the helmet and pads, too.”
“Well…yes.” She had, although her reason for doing so had been entirely different.
The boy seemed to study her as if she were some kind of adult anomaly—and a nice one at that. “Is that because you knew how special my skateboard is to me?”
“And how special you are,” she said, feeling a bit guilty for accepting his unspoken praise. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
A grin started at one side of his face and broke into a full-on smile. “I’ll bet Analisa is going to be super happy to see the stuff for her doll.”
“I hope so.”
He grew silent, and since Claire couldn’t very well batter him with questions or lectures, she got to her feet and approached Hilda instead.
“Good morning,” she said, as she joined the woman and man seated in lawn chairs.
Both Hilda and Walter turned. Walter grinned, but Hilda, who held Lucita in her lap, appeared…distressed. When the older woman lifted a hand to shield the sun from her eyes, Claire noticed beads of sweat had gathered on her upper lip.
“Are you feeling all right?” Claire asked her.
“No,” Walter said. “She isn’t. She’s having stomach pains. I suggested she go home and lie down.”
“I…” Hilda winced. “I thought it would pass, but it seems to be getting worse. I’m a bit dizzy, too.”
“Then you’d better not get behind the wheel,” Claire said.
“If you wouldn’t mind driving her car and taking her and Analisa home,” Walter said, “I’ll be happy to pick you up and bring you back here.”
“Of course.”
“Perhaps a bit of tea will help me feel better,” Hilda said, grimacing as she reached for her tote bag.
Claire lowered the basket she held in her arms. “I brought some doll clothes for Analisa. Do you mind if I give them to her?”
“Not at all. That was nice of you.” Hilda glanced down at Lucita and shook her head. “It’s an ugly old doll, isn’t it? But Analisa loves her.”
Claire understood why, though. Didn’t Hilda?
Of course, the poor woman wasn’t feeling well.
“If you don’t mind…” Claire nodded toward the playground. “I’ll take these to Analisa and tell her it’s time to go home.”
“Thank you.” Hilda took a few sips of tea, then grimaced and tossed the rest of the cup onto the grass. She turned to Walter. “This isn’t sitting well with me.”
Claire carried her box to the playground and motioned for Analisa to join her at the edge of the sand. She suspected Hilda was in a hurry to leave, so even though she wanted to show the doll clothes to the little girl, she decided to do so in the car.
When the child came near, Claire said, “Hilda isn’t feeling well, so she asked me to drive the two of you home.”
“We have to go now?” Analisa asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
Before Claire could continue, the child grew still. “Uh-oh.”
“What’s the matter?”
Analisa pointed toward the restroom. “I think that big boy is mad at Trevor.”
Claire glanced over her shoulder, where a teenager had cornered Trevor against the outside block wall of the men’s room. And she quickly surmised Analisa was right. “You wait here.”
She jogged toward the boys. “What’s going on?”
Relief washed over Trevor’s face the moment she appeared on the scene.
The teenager, a sloppy punk dressed in black, crossed his arms. “This little kid stole my friend’s skateboard, and I’m just trying to get it back.”
“I did not,” Trevor said. “I found it in a field. Someone threw it away.”
The teenager stiffened. “That’s a lie.”
“Why should I believe you over him?” Claire asked. When the boy didn’t offer any reason, Claire continued. “If your friend has a claim on this board, you have him come talk to me.”
Before the teenager could comment, Walter’s voice rang out through the park.
“Somebody help! Call an ambulance!”
Chapter 9
At the sound of Walter’s cry, Claire turned to find Hilda crumpled on the grass and Walter on his knees beside her. Claire started to rush to them, then, having second thoughts, grabbed Trevor by the arm. “You come with me.”
She wasn’t leaving him with a bully.
As they neared Hilda, who was pale and trembling, the boy pulled back. “What happened to her?”
“I’m not sure.”
Walter glanced up, his gaze snagging Claire’s in a mire of concern. “She’s in severe pain.”
Claire dropped the box of doll clothes on the grass, then pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed 9-1-1. All the while, Trevor stood aside, frozen and unmoving.
The pregnant woman—Maria?—approached, carrying her toddler on her hip. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Maybe you can—” Claire stopped in midsentence when her call connected, and she reported the emergency to the dispatcher. “We need an ambulance at Mulberry Park.” She went on to explain Hilda’s pain and her collapse.
When she’d been assured the paramedics were on their way and the call had ended, she put her cell phone back in her purse. Her adrenaline was pumping, and she scanned the park, hoping that if anything else went wrong, there was someone better prepared to help than she was.
Several looky-loos craned their necks from a distance, but none of them were jumping to the forefront.
Hilda startled. “Cindy? Oh, no. Where’s the baby?”
“You mean Lucita?” Claire asked. The doll Hilda had been holding for Analisa now lay on the grass next to her.
“No.” Hilda grew agitated, her eyes opened but unfocused. “Where’s little Cindy? I’m her nanny. And I need to meet her mother…”
“She’s talking about Analisa,” Walter said. “She’s in so much pain that she’s confused.”
Oh, dear God. Where was that ambulance?
Claire stepped forward and knelt beside the disoriented woman. “Don’t worry, Hilda. I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”
Hilda placed a cool, shaky hand on Claire’s forearm and opened her mouth to speak. Instead she moaned and closed her eyes.
Claire got to her feet and took Maria aside. “I’d better find Analisa and talk to her. I don’t want her to worry.”
“It’s too late,” Trevor said. “She’s running over here now. And she looks pretty scared to me.”
Claire feared there was good reason for the little girl to be frightened, but tried to conjure a soothing smile as she strode to meet her.
Panic seized Analisa’s voice. “What’s wrong with Mrs. Richards?”
Dropping to one knee, Claire slipped an arm around the child. “Mrs. Richards has a pain in her tummy. And since she feels better lying down, we’ve asked for an ambulance to take her to the hospital. A lot of doctors and nurses work there, and they’ll know just what to do to make her better.”
“But sometimes they don’t,” the girl said, as she studied the elderly woman lying on the grass.
Claire had meant her words to be comforting, yet began to realize how little truth they held for a child who’d lost both her parents while living in a third-world country. A child whose mother had died from an infection that wasn’t treated properly.
So what more could Claire say? Especially when she, too, had faced a life or death situation and been forced to accept the limits of medical intervention, even in a hospital that boasted modern technology and top-notch personnel.
With Trevor and Analisa flanking her, Claire stood and watched as Maria made her way to the stricken nanny.
In spite of the young mother’s advancing pregnancy and the toddler still balanced on her hip, she stooped beside Hilda and whispered something. Words of comfort, maybe. Then she reached for the doll that lay abandoned on the grass next to Hilda’s tote bag and brought it to Analisa.