What Madeline Wants

by Linda Style

  That fit with what Gladys Hackert had told her. “What happened then?”

  “He was arrested, thrown in jail, but somehow managed to escape, and we went to Mexico to live. We were very poor because my father couldn’t find much work, but we were happy together. Then, when I was four, my mother got real sick and my father sent her back here to the ranch to get medical care.”

  Maddy waited for him to go on.

  He took a sip of coffee and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cradling the cup in both hands.

  “But my mother didn’t recover and when my dad got word that she was dying, he couldn’t stay away. Since he was wanted by the law, he couldn’t just go visit, so he had someone drive him to the border and crossed over undetected. I was supposed to stay behind, but I hid in the back of the truck and rode along. By the time he found me, it was too late to send me back.”

  Pain etched his face. “We didn’t make it,” he said almost inaudibly. “I learned later that my mother died while we were en route.” He took a breath, cleared his throat and went on, almost as if he couldn’t stop. “I watched my father die in the desert,” he said, his voice cracking. “I realized later that he’d given me all the water and hadn’t taken any for himself.”

  Oh, God. He felt responsible. He not only felt guilty for his partner’s death, but also his father’s.

  “When they found us, I was sent back to Mexico to an orphanage until my grandmother got word and sent for me.”

  Maddy’s head spun. Stories like that only happened in the movies, not to people she knew. But then, she’d never have believed some of the other things she’d seen and heard recently, either. J.D. was right when he said she’d lived in a cocoon.

  “My father always insisted he was framed, but there was no way to prove it.”

  Maddy managed to pull herself together enough to ask, “But who would frame him—and why?”

  “I don’t know. My father thought it was Ethel.”

  “Do you think she had something to do with the fire?”

  He shrugged and gave a weary sigh, as if all his energy had been depleted. “I don’t know. One of the men who died was Charlie Masterson’s son. I asked some questions about the fire when I first came back, but no one wanted to talk about it. All I found out was that Ethel and Charlie Jr. had been good friends.

  Gladys had said that some people believed Ethel was involved in the mess. Maybe that was what she’d wanted Maddy to remember. “Y’know, J.D. you should talk with Gladys Hackert. She seemed to know a lot about the past, and she mentioned your father. Maybe she has some information that would help clear things up.”

  “Really,” he said with a flicker of interest. But a second later, his eyes darkened. “Everyone’s dead now, anyway, so what’s the point.”

  Hearing his words, she felt as if a lightbulb had gone off in her head. No wonder he was reluctant to get close to anyone. Everyone he’d ever cared about had died.

  “Maybe if you had some answers, you could find some peace. Maybe you could stop punishing yourself for things that you had no control over.”

  He looked her in the eyes. “More of your pop psychology?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Sorry.” She took a sip of coffee, and then rolled her cup between her palms. She glanced at J.D. and saw the pain in his heart reflected in his eyes. His burden of guilt was so heavy it would destroy him if he couldn’t let it go.

  She understood. She’d never told anyone about Georgetown, and had let the guilt fester within her until it had almost destroyed her life. Maybe if she told him…maybe it would help in some small way.

  Nerves taut, she inhaled deeply, “When I was in school at Georgetown, I shared an apartment with another girl. Someone broke in one night when we were sleeping.” She swallowed, wondering if she could get it all out. But it seemed important to tell him right now.

  “He broke into my room through the window. I tried to fight him off, but he had a gun and threatened to kill me if I made a sound. He tied me up and gagged me. Then it was my roommate’s turn. He brought her into my room, tied her up and then went through the place, taking our money and jewelry and…before he left, he…” Her throat closed. “He raped her. We learned later it was someone I knew from a class. He’d thought that I liked him—had encouraged him. When he found out differently…”

  Oh, God. Tears brimmed in her eyes but she bit them back. “I couldn’t stop thinking that somehow the whole thing was my fault. I felt so horribly guilty. That it was me he’d come looking for.”

  J.D. reached out to touch her, but she waved him away. She needed to finish. “After that, I felt a sense of helplessness—that I had no control over the things that could happen in my life, and that horrible feeling grew and grew. Eventually, I pulled inside myself, so much so that my life literally stopped. I moved in with my parents for four years because of it.”

  She let her head fall back and closed her eyes for a second before continuing. “Eventually, I went into therapy. I realized then that while I’d never forget what had happened, and would probably always wonder if I could’ve done something, I had to let the memory go if I wanted to have a life.”

  She turned to him and smiled. “Now I enjoy one day at a time. No more, no less. I hope someday you’ll be able to do that, too.”

  MADDY PREPARED for class on Monday evening, her spirits elevated because J.D. had confided in her. After listening to his story, she was even more aware of how little she knew about real hardship. Yes, she’d been attacked by a dog, and she’d been the victim of a brutal assault and had suffered emotionally as a result.

  But she’d been a child of privilege and even when things were bad, she’d had a support system. J.D. had no one at all. She admired his strength. And she was humbled by the people she worked with every day, amazed by their generosity of spirit and never-ending determination to make better lives for themselves.

  Michael Bruchetti could take lessons from some of them.

  Despite what J.D. had said about people in town not being willing to follow through with the project, she wasn’t convinced. The positive response was encouraging. In fact, she was going to find out tomorrow about the grant for a full-time teacher. If the town council approved nothing else, helping workers learn the language would give them the tools to get better jobs and earn more money.

  Her students were in rare form tonight, eager to learn and enjoying some of the new exercises she’d shown them. Tonight she’d started by having Carlos hum a few lines of a song he liked and then the others had to identify it in English. They’d all laughed at how Carlos couldn’t carry a tune. In another exercise, she’d taken a page from one of Benito’s comic books, blanked out the dialogue, made copies for each student when she’d been in town with Annie, and then had them fill in what they thought the characters should say. They were laughing and having a great time when loud voices sounded outside.

  The doors suddenly crashed open on both sides of the building and someone shouted, “La migra. La migra.” A half-dozen men wearing dark blue uniforms converged on them like an army invading a hostile country. Mariela’s children began to cry and they all backed away. Carlos and the rest of J.D.’s workers stood in front of the women and children as if guarding them.

  La migra. Immigration authorities. Maddy whirled around, dashed over to stand beside her students. Sheriff Collier was with the uniformed men, so she addressed him. “What’s going on? You can’t just barge in here and—”

  “Muéstreme sus papeles,” one of the men said.

  They wanted to see papers.

  “Cualquiera sin papeles viene con mí. Anyone without papers comes with us,” the sheriff said.

  Benito’s eyes went wide. He bolted for the door, but one of the men grabbed him by the arm and jerked him back. Benito struggled to get free, his skinny arms and legs flailing like a marionette, but the official held him.

  Sheriff Collier sauntered over. “Well, well. Who do we have here?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEE
N

  “YOU CAN’T PUT a little boy in jail!” Maddy followed the sheriff out the door, her mind spinning, frantic, wondering what to do. “Please don’t take him. Let me contact his aunt and uncle. They’ll have his papers.”

  “We’ll take care of it, Miss Inglewood,” the sheriff said. “If he’s documented, there won’t be a problem. You just tell your boss he needs to do a better job checking papers when he’s hiring. There’s a hefty fine for people who continue to break the law. Tell him I’ll overlook it once, but not twice.”

  Maddy could only sputter as she watched the officers take Benito and the other workers J.D. had hired away. When it was all over, Juana and Carlos and Mariela and her children were the only ones left. Devastated, Maddy was beside herself and pacing in circles. J.D. was gone, she didn’t know where, and everyone else seemed to accept this roundup as a matter of course.

  The whole thing was beyond belief. J.D. would be furious. His carpenters were gone. He wouldn’t be able to get the work done. Benito was gone, too. But he was only ten, the authorities certainly couldn’t keep a little boy in jail, could they?

  “Señorita,” Carlos said.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something, Carlos?”

  “Benito has no papers.”

  Maddy glanced from Carlos to Juana.

  Juana nodded. “He has no family here.”

  She’d been afraid of that. Worse yet, she’d ignored her instincts. But he had to have someone. “Where does he go every night then? Does he stay with friends?”

  Juana shook her head. “When Mr. Rivera found out, he gave him a place to sleep and food.”

  “What about his family in Mexico?”

  “He has no one.”

  Maddy slumped into a chair. The boy was homeless. How had he managed living on his own at age ten. “I don’t understand any of this. And why would the authorities come here looking for papers? Who would even know there was anyone here.”

  It hit her. Oh, God. Everyone knew.

  She’d told all the women at the club that she was teaching J.D.’s workers and there was no reason for them to keep the information quiet. Was this her fault? Was this what J.D. meant when he’d said she didn’t know what she was getting into? Had someone who didn’t like what she was doing notified the authorities?

  She closed her eyes. “Does anyone know where Mr. Rivera is and when he’ll be back?”

  “It will be late,” Juana said. “He’s making deliveries.”

  “Deliveries?”

  “Food and water. The food to the colonias. The water barrels into the desert.”

  She knew about the water, but not the rest. And she’d accused him of doing nothing. She ran a hand through her hair. She was hot and sweaty and her study papers were all over the place. She couldn’t just leave her remaining students standing here, but she didn’t have the energy to finish. She wanted to go off in a corner and hide. God, she was stupid.

  Then Carlos started picking up papers and soon the women and children were helping, and when they’d finished, they all sat in their seats again, ready to continue—as if nothing had happened.

  “Okay.” She gave a shaky smile, took a huge gulp of air, stood up and walked to the table. Her hands were trembling when she picked up the dry-erase pen. “Where were we?”

  IT WAS MIDNIGHT when J.D. pulled in. The lights were on in the house, and he hoped Maddy was still up. He’d had a lot of time to think about their conversation. A lot of time to reflect on what she’d said. Was he using his guilt as a crutch? Was it an excuse to drop out? A reason to feel sorry for himself because his life and everything he’d planned had gone down the tubes.

  He knew that technically Eric’s death wasn’t his fault, but if he hadn’t convinced his friend to do the show, Eric would be alive today. And if he hadn’t tagged along with his father, Raphael might be alive, too.

  He didn’t know if he’d ever get over that guilt. But Maddy had made him take a good look at his situation; he’d never allowed himself to do that before. Maybe he would never completely get over the losses—and he knew he’d never forget—but if he found something—or someone—to fill the void, life might be worth living again. He certainly felt that way when she was there.

  He’d meant it when he’d said she was an amazing woman. Stronger than she knew. God, he wanted her to stay. But he’d accepted the fact that she was going to leave, and no matter how he felt about her, he’d closed off a small part of himself because of it.

  Enjoy each day for what it is, she’d said. He smiled to himself. Yeah. He could do that—for whatever time was left.

  As he rounded the corner, he saw Maddy bent over at the kitchen table, her arms out and her head resting on top. Damn. She’d worked so hard she couldn’t make it to bed. He stole into the kitchen, but his boot hit a chair leg on the way. She jerked her head up.

  He sat beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  When she turned to look at him, her eyes were red and puffy and she looked as if she’d been crying for hours. Was she upset about their conversation? Had what she’d told him brought up too many bad memories? Or maybe she’d heard about the job she wanted—bad news. “What’s wrong?”

  Her lips quivered. “You were right. I’ve screwed things up to hell and back and I’ll leave here right now, tonight, if you want me to.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Whatever it is can’t possibly be that bad.” He smoothed the hair from her eyes.

  Tears welled, but she took a deep breath and staved them off. She sat up straight. “The immigration authorities came into my classroom tonight and rounded up everyone without papers.”

  He stared, not wanting to believe what he’d just heard.

  “I told you it was bad.”

  Clearing his throat, he pulled his chair closer. “What immigration authorities?”

  “Sheriff Collier and a bunch of men. They came and hauled off everyone who couldn’t show papers, including Benito. Juana and Carlos and Mariela and her children were the only ones left.”

  He banged a fist on the table so hard it vibrated, then launched to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor. “When?”

  “About seven-thirty. They just burst right in and ruined the doors Carlos built. How can they do that? Don’t they have to have a search warrant or something?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sure they had whatever they needed. They’re within their rights. I should’ve checked papers when I hired the men.” Which would’ve put him back even farther on the renovations.

  “What about Benito? Can we talk to the sheriff? They can’t keep a small child in jail, can they?”

  “Yes. Or they’ll take them all directly to the border station.”

  “What about a temporary permit or visa or something?”

  “Right now, there’s not much we can do except get some sleep.”

  “It’s my fault, isn’t it? You warned me there might be repercussions and I didn’t listen. I just kept on thinking I knew everything, and now you have no men to finish the work and it’s my fault. Not to mention that Jésus and Daniel and the others will be deported because of me.”

  He gave a long sigh and sat down beside her again. “Those men should’ve had papers. It’s not your fault. I didn’t check. That’s my fault.”

  “But you help them, Juana told me. With food and water.”

  “I don’t want to see anyone die in the desert regardless of their citizenship. But the authorities still have to do their job. As far as food, I know the field workers don’t get paid much and need all the help they can get. But they have to have papers. That’s the law.”

  “And what about Benito. He’s just a little boy. A homeless little boy.”

  “Yeah. I know,” he said softly, his voice cracking. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself sitting alone at the immigration station—with Sheriff Collier rocking back on his heels next t
o him—his father dead and no knowledge of his mother’s condition. Later he’d learned she’d died that same night. “I’ll see what we can do in the morning.”

  ONE OF THE LONGEST NIGHTS of her life. Maddy kicked off the sheets. J.D. hadn’t blamed her, and that made her feel even worse. The next morning, she showered mechanically and got dressed. J.D. had said he’d see what they could do for Benito.

  “Hey,” he greeted her, when she came into the kitchen. She could tell he felt as bad as she did. Probably worse.

  “Morning.”

  “You didn’t sleep much.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Not much.”

  “Me neither.” They sat together at the table. “There was a message on the machine for you. I guess it came last night when you were outside. It was Annie.”

  Maddy’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah. I wonder what trouble I’ve gotten her into.”

  “Nothing that she wasn’t aware of before.”

  Maddy angled her head to look at him. “I thought you were against my involving Annie in anything.”

  “I was. I am. But beyond that, Annie’s lived here a long time. She knows what she’s getting into and that’s her choice. She just might be the person who’ll carry the project forward when you’re gone.”

  Another reference to her leaving. He seemed to do that a lot lately. And even though she’d caused him one problem after another, the tone of his voice and the softness in his eyes gave her the impression he regretted it a little.

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere for a while. I haven’t heard about the other job and I can’t even think about that when I’m so worried about Ben. What can we do?”