by Linda Style
“How far is it to Yuma?”
“A couple hours,” he said offhandedly, as if his mind was elsewhere. “I’ll call the vet’s office and leave a message. Maybe someone will call me back.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe if I hadn’t gone off with Annie today…if I’d stayed here with her—”
He looked at her. “It’s not your fault.”
“I wish there was something I could do.” J.D. gently placed Zelda inside her house on the cushion. They both rose to their feet and stood silently just looking at the dog for a while. Then, as if he’d had an inspiration, J.D. smiled, his eyes lit and he took Maddy by both arms. “That’s it.”
She smiled back. “That’s what?”
“You said you wished you could do something. You can and it’ll save me losing a day’s work.”
“Great. What is it?”
“Take Zelda to the vet.”
Maddy’s mouth opened but no words came out. Her pulse raced. He wanted her to drive to Yuma, a hundred miles one way, with a dog. She broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. As much as she wanted to help him, she didn’t know if she could. What if she freaked out?
“What do you think?”
“Can’t someone else do it?”
He stepped back, putting distance between them, his expression puzzled. “I can’t spare Carlos and I wouldn’t ask Juana with all her other responsibilities. There’s no one except you.”
She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t think of a logical way to refuse his request.
After a few long moments of silence, he said, “Never mind. It was a bad idea.”
THAT NIGHT IN BED, Maddy chastised herself over and over about her inability to do what J.D. had asked. She’d been so sure she was making progress, so sure her life was on track, but she hadn’t changed at all. She was the same insecure, phobia-prone person she’d been when she’d lived in Epiphany. Leaving Iowa hadn’t changed a thing.
J.D. wasn’t the kind of man to ask favors of anyone, but he’d asked her. He trusted her with Zelda. He had faith that she could make the trip to Yuma. He wouldn’t have even suggested it if he hadn’t. She knew that much about him.
He’d counted on her and she’d let him down. Failed.
The story of her life. God, she felt horrible.
You can do anything if you want it badly enough. She recited the phrase over and over. If she tried to do this and failed, would she feel any worse than she did this moment?
Maybe she couldn’t toss her fears aside, but she could force herself to carry on despite her feelings. What was the worst that could happen? She might be a basket case when she returned and J.D. would see it, but was that any worse than having him think his trust in her was misplaced?
Maddy spent the rest of the night in turmoil. If she couldn’t do this one small thing, what were her chances of succeeding in the rest of her life? She didn’t know what was worse. Reliving the dog attack or failing the one person who seemed to have a little faith in her.
Somewhere in the wee hours, she decided it had to be the latter. Because that was the one that would hurt the most.
When she awakened in sweat-drenched sheets at 4:30 a.m., it was obvious what she had to do. J.D. would be up at five, as always, to get in as many hours of work as he could. If ever there was a determined man, it was J.D. Rivera. He might even be up already and have gone to Yuma. She leaped from the bed.
Then she heard a hammer outside and dashed to the small patio door and peeked out. He was there. Relief swept through her.
She showered quickly, dressed in her good clothes and went to the kitchen for coffee. She needed fortification to do this. After a few sips, she walked outside.
“Good morning,” she said, crossing the yard to where J.D. was standing on a ladder pounding nails. “Did you call the vet last night?”
He nodded, his back as stiff as the hammer in his hand.
“Did he say what the problem might be? What we should do?”
“I didn’t talk to him, just his service. They’ll contact the vet, get her an emergency appointment today, and will call back to give us the time.”
“Okay. I’ll need the information and instructions on where to go and what to do.”
He stopped pounding and stared at her.
“If I leave now, I’ll get a head start, and when they call back, you can let them know I’m on my way.”
Stepping from his ladder, his eyes narrowed. “You sure you want to do this?”
Maddy’s heart raced. Could he see her fear? Was she that transparent? She nodded. “Yes, of course. But I’d like to have someone to ride with me. Remembering what happened to my rental car, I’d hate to drive all that way alone.”
Maddy saw Benito walking toward them from the road. He was up early, too. “I know Carlos and Juana are busy, but what about Benito? I bet he’d love to come along and help with Zelda. Kids love animals.”
J.D. shrugged, and walking away, said, “Fine with me. Just tell him his job today is to go along with you to Yuma and that he’ll get the same pay.”
Maddy waved Benito over to her and told him—in Spanish since he knew little English—exactly what J.D. had said. The boy’s eyes lit up. “I get paid the same for riding in a car?” he asked.
Maddy nodded. “And for helping with Zelda.”
He smiled, then wiped his hands on his grubby shorts. “I’m ready.”
“Great,” Maddy said. “Now all I need to do is call your family to make sure it’s okay with them.”
Benito’s face fell. “They have no phone, but it’s okay with them that I come here to work for Mr. Rivera, and if I go along, I’ll be working for him.” He shrugged and gave her another of his charming smiles.
A glint of mischief shone in his eyes. If the boy wasn’t a con artist already, he was well on his way. She was uncomfortable taking his word on it, so she walked over and told J.D. what the boy had said.
J.D. didn’t appear to have any qualms. “If he’s working for me, he’s working for me,” he said and tossed her the keys. “It doesn’t matter where.”
She caught the keys.
“The place is called Pet Haven and the vet’s name is Kendrick,” J.D. continued. “I don’t have the exact address, but it’s in the book in the kitchen. When I hear, I’ll let them know you’re on the way.”
Maddy moistened her lips, her nerves as tight as a guitar string. If she survived today, she could survive anything.
Twenty minutes later, she and Benito—with Zelda on his lap—were on the road to Yuma. It was a straight run. Nothing to worry about there. So far, so good.
The truck had only the basics, no radio and no air-conditioning. But the weather seemed to be cooling and with the windows open, a nice breeze blew over them. “Benito,” Maddy said to break the silence. “Are you ready to start classes tomorrow night?”
Benito kept his eyes on the road ahead and one hand on Zelda. “I promised Mr. Rivera I’d come. He said if I don’t like it after a week, it’s okay to quit.”
The hair on the back of Maddy’s neck prickled. What kind of thing was that to tell a child who wasn’t old enough to be making those decisions? “Well, I’d hate it if you quit, Benito. I know it’s hard to see the benefits right now, but a good education will help you in the long run. If you learn to speak and read and write in English, you’ll be able to get jobs doing many different things. You could even read that comic book you’ve got in your back pocket.”
He touched the comic book with one hand. “Lots of stuff is in Spanish, too.”
And from what she’d learned from Carlos, Benito was close to illiterate in his native language as well.
“True. But knowing more than one language is very special. Not many people are bilingual, not even Mr. Rivera.”
Benito sat up a little straighter. “What’s so special about it?”
“Well, take me for example. I can speak four different languages and after I’m done with my job here, I’m hoping to go
to New York to work for the United Nations as a simultaneous interpreter. That’s someone who listens to a person talking in one language then tells another person who can’t speak that language what the other person is saying.” An oversimplification, but an explanation he could understand.
“Do you get lots of money to do that?”
“A whole lot more than I would pounding nails. And I also get to travel and see the world.”
Benito frowned, seeming to consider the idea.
“Quitting something just because you don’t like it or find it hard to do isn’t always the best decision.”
“Why not?”
She searched for a reason to which he could relate. “Well, take Mr. Rivera. He’s working hard on the ranch to get it fixed up so people can come and enjoy the place. He works many hours each day at that job, and he probably doesn’t like working all those long hours. But he does it anyway because he’ll have a nice place when he’s finished and people will pay to visit. All his hard work will be worth it in the end.”
Benito was silent, so she added, “A person’s goal, what he wants in the end, is sometimes more important than what he wants right this minute. For example, by learning to read and write well, in either English or Spanish, you could create your own comic book someday.”
His eyes went wide. “I could?”
She nodded. “You could.”
“Could I be a sheriff?”
“You could be anything you wanted. Even president.”
Benito didn’t answer after that, but Maddy thought she might’ve made an impression.
They sailed along and after passing some agricultural areas, the scenery changed and the highway was flanked on both sides by scrubby desert plants, cacti and lots of sand. She tried unsuccessfully to get Benito to talk about himself. She asked about his home in Mexico and his parents, about the aunt and uncle he was staying with, but the only response she got was when she asked why he was working for J.D.
“Working in the field is hard and it doesn’t pay much money. Mr. Rivera pays me more.”
“What’s not much money?”
“Four dollars an hour.”
She didn’t know what minimum wage was, but she was sure it was higher than that. “Do all the workers get paid the same?”
“Some get five dollars an hour maybe. It’s a lot more than anyone can make in Tacámbaro. Workers there are lucky if they make five dollars for a whole day. And there aren’t enough jobs for everyone.”
Something personal at last. The town he mentioned was probably where he was from, where his parents lived. Tacámbaro. She’d have to remember that and look it up on the map.
“Still, five dollars an hour isn’t really a lot. That’s only two hundred dollars a week. Surely not enough to pay rent and buy food for a whole family.”
Benito looked up at her, his eyes suddenly wary. She wasn’t sure he was going to answer, but then he said, “Many families live together and share the rent. The colonias are very crowded. That’s why I’m lucky to work for Mr. Rivera. He pays me more and gives me food, too.”
“Really. Food for you to take to your aunt and uncle?”
The boy glanced at her, as if gauging her reactions, before he nodded.
“I didn’t know that. It’s nice of him to help out.”
Just then, Zelda lifted her head to look at Maddy.
“Hey, girl,” Maddy said, hoping Zelda wouldn’t try to crawl onto her lap. Driving J.D.’s truck was all she could handle at the moment.
“She’s got to go,” Benito said.
“Go?”
“You know—outside.”
“Oh, yes.” Where was her mind? She hadn’t even thought of that. She pulled off the road and into a place where other cars were parked and tall sand dunes, dotted with tufts of salt grass at the base, lined both sides of the road. Other people had stopped to walk their dogs, too, and in the distance several ATVs buzzed up and down the tall dunes like ants, the noise disrupting what would otherwise have been a serene landscape. On the map, it looked as if they were about two-thirds of the way to Yuma, and she was relieved to be close. “Keep her leash tight. Okay?”
Benito hopped out with Zelda and Maddy climbed from the truck, too. She walked a little to stretch her legs and then came back to lean against the fender. An arid breeze ruffled her hair, reminding her of the night she’d stood on the back deck with J.D. The man confused her. He professed to be a loner, but yet he went out of his way to help Benito’s family. He blamed himself for his friend’s death, that was obvious.
Survivor’s guilt? Lord, she knew all about that. For the last four years, not a day went by that she didn’t wonder if she could’ve done something to help her roommate. Something that might’ve prevented the attack.
“I think Zelda needs something to drink,” Benito said, coming over to her.
Glad he’d brought her out of her reverie, Maddy pulled out a plastic bowl and a water bottle that J.D. had put in a small cooler in the back of the truck. Zelda watched with interest, and when Maddy finished pouring, the dog lapped up the cool liquid as if she’d been without water for days. Maddy smiled. “She’s drinking, Benito. That’s a good sign.”
WITHIN THE HOUR, Maddy, Benito and Zelda pulled into a parking spot at Pet Haven—A Care Center for Animals. Several hours later, they were finished and on their way back to Tripplehorne Ranch. Zelda had a common bacterial infection that wasn’t anything serious, the vet had said, and gave Maddy a prescription for a canine antibiotic that he filled for her.
They stopped for lunch at the local fast-food Burger Palace and then, driving back, Benito slept most of the way, as did Zelda, with her head in the boy’s lap. Every now and then the dog stared up at Maddy and her little tail started clicking back and forth, lifting Maddy’s spirits. If Zelda had been really sick because of something Maddy had done, she would never have forgiven herself. But an infection could have come from anywhere. And the little dog seemed to be getting perkier by the moment.
Maddy smiled at Zelda, feeling more confident than she had in years. She had not allowed her fear to paralyze her. Now, while a little success didn’t mean she was home free, she certainly felt stronger emotionally than she had in a long time and vowed to be more attentive to the little dog’s needs in the future.
Her therapist was right; success was about a person’s willingness to risk doing something difficult. No risk, no reward.
That, she decided, was going to be her motto from now on. No risk, no reward.
“Are we there yet?” Benito asked, raising his head.
“Soon. We’re on the outskirts of Los Rios, close to where your aunt and uncle live.”
Benito gave no response and looked away. If conditions were really as bad as he said, maybe he was embarrassed about it. Curious, Maddy turned down a side street, wanting to get a look for herself.
“No, señorita, you’re going the wrong way.”
“I just want to see the colonias you were telling me about, Benito.”
“I didn’t lie. Do you think I lied?”
“No, but I’m thinking if the conditions are as bad as you say, maybe I can do something to help.”
Benito inched down in his seat. A normal response for a ten-year-old, she guessed. Her brother had done the same thing when she’d had to take him places. He’d been mortified to go anywhere with his big sister.
A couple miles down the road, the street suddenly turned to dirt, and she realized it wasn’t really a street at all, but an alley that was lined with trash cans, some filled to the brim with garbage and others tipped over with gaunt dogs rummaging through them. A dozen or so tiny wooden shacks with tin roofs and windows that had no glass flanked both sides, along with several outhouses.
Depressed, Maddy quickly headed back to the main road. How could the citizens of Los Rios let people live like this?
As she drove out of the area and back onto the main road, Benito said, “You can let me off at the next crossroad.”
Benito’s dark brown eyes widened like two full moons. The boy suddenly looked terrified.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to say anything that’ll get you in trouble, Benito. I just want to tell them what a great kid you are.”
He didn’t seem to hear her, but pushed forward to sit on the edge of the seat, one hand on the dash. And when she stopped at the crossroad, he opened the door, jumped out and ran like the wind. Zelda barked and in a split second, she was gone from the truck and following Benito.
Oh, God! “Benito! Zelda!” She pulled the truck to the side of the road and scrambled out, calling as she did. “Benito, come back! Zelda’s following you. She’ll get lost.”
Benito stopped. “Vamos.” He waved his arms at Zelda, who barked three or four times at him.
Then Maddy watched in horror as Benito took off to the right and Zelda dashed into the field on the left. Panic grabbed her by the throat, and though she tried to call after them, all that came out was a croak.
Stop. Think it through. She drew a deep breath. You can’t go after both of them, so make a decision. One or the other. Benito obviously knew his way around and how to get home. Zelda had never been out of the dog run except on the ranch. Maddy took off after the dog.
But it was dusky and hard to see.
And Zelda had vanished.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“CAN YOU REPEAT THAT? I think my hearing must be impaired because I thought you said you’d lost Zelda.” J.D.’s voice rose a few decibels on the word lost, and his eyes rounded with disbelief.
“I’m so sorry. I searched everywhere for her, but it was getting dark and I couldn’t see where she went. I figured it would be better to come back and see if you had any ideas about what to do.”
He didn’t acknowledge her apology but slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “Damn!” He crossed the room, then paced back again. “Where’s Benito?”