Broken Lullaby

by Tracy, Pamela

  Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Mary headed back downstairs, grabbed her purse and keys and her cell phone rang.

  The social worker. It was time to pay the piper. The fears crept back in. God, if you’re there, can you help me? Keep my son safe with me.

  “Is tomorrow morning, nine, a good time?” was only a courtesy question. Mary looked around the house at the garage sale furniture, the empty counters in the kitchen where cookies and bread should abound and a tiny bug running across the living room floor.

  “Tomorrow morning’s perfect.”

  “Who was that?” Justin asked as they walked to the car. He was already fumbling with his iPod.

  “The caseworker. She’s coming tomorrow morning. Her name is Tiffany.”

  “I don’t see why we have to do this. I mean, we’re doing okay. Is it because you kept me home from school? Or is it something about Dad?”

  Mary swallowed. “It’s a little of both. It’s because I left without testifying. I kept you out of school so they couldn’t find us. And, yes, it has a bit to do with your father. He made some poor choices, but that won’t—” she looked at Justin “—change things for us. We’re done running. I told you, remember? Just answer Tiffany’s questions and everything will be fine.”

  I’ll just keep telling myself that, she thought as she glanced at Mitch’s cabin.

  His car was gone.

  “He left about eight,” Justin said. “He said he had to go before some sort of board. He wouldn’t tell me anything else.” As an afterthought, her son added, “He was all dressed up.”

  No surprise there. The man was a living, breathing GQ cover. When she’d visited him last night, he’d been in light brown dress pants and a button-down shirt with the tie undone. She’d felt like a hillbilly in her shorts and T-shirt.

  “Mom? We going?”

  “Of course.” She needed to be a little less obvious about her musings or her son would catch on that she’d been talking to Mitch, too. Justin wouldn’t like it one bit that he’d been left out of last night’s loop.

  It took fifteen minutes to drive to the heart of town and pull into the school’s parking lot. Broken Bones Elementary School was more than a hundred years old and breathtaking. Old bricks tempered with time, the pressure of little hands and countless games of let’s-bounce-the-ball-off-the-wall made up the picturesque vision from the past, complete with a school bell and tower.

  The inside of the school was even better than the outside. A wave of nostalgia engulfed her as she stared at a tall glass case housing 4-H ribbons, student art and top student honors. Justin had gone to Catholic school from kindergarten to third grade. She’d volunteered in the classroom and helped with fundraisers. She’d loved it, even when some of the other mothers shied away from her because of who she was, what she was.

  Now, even if Justin didn’t want her to, she’d volunteer in the classroom, help with fundraisers….

  “May I help you?” A chubby face with lots of tight brown curls peered down from the second floor.

  “I need to enroll my son in sixth grade,” Mary said.

  “Come on up!”

  The whole process took about an hour. When they were finished with the paperwork, she grinned and offered, “Camping store first or the hospital?”

  “Camping store,” Justin said easily. “If we go to the hospital, we probably won’t make it to the camping store. We didn’t yesterday.”

  It was coming up on two when they arrived in Wickenburg. Justin finally got the fast food hamburger he’d so wanted yesterday followed by enough camping gear to fill his bedroom.

  “They’ll find Alma’s baby, won’t they, Mom?” Justin said as they pulled into the parking lot.

  “Your Aunt Ruth certainly thinks so. Mitch thinks so.”

  “What do you think, Mom?”

  “I think they’ll find both babies, Alma’s and Angelina’s.” And hope was a wonderful thing, Mary thought as she stepped from the car. It’s what had brought her back.

  “Yeah, me too. I hope both babies are found.” Justin was silent as they entered the hospital and headed down the hallway to see Alma. Today the waiting room was empty. There was no officer posted outside the door and the nurse didn’t glare at them.

  Alma was sitting up in bed eating and watching a movie on television. Rico sat on a chair just inside the door, looking right at home. He stood when they entered and tried to look stern while attempting to hide a Sudoku book behind him.

  “Is it okay if we come in?” Mary asked.

  “Come in,” Alma cried. “I am so glad you are here. Him—” she pointed at Rico “—he will tell me nothing.”

  Rico blushed, actually blushed, as he glanced at Alma before speaking to Mary, and tried to nonchalantly put the game book on his chair. “Your name is on the list of visitors, but I have to keep track of everything you say.”

  “Everything?” Justin asked.

  “Everything important,” Rico assured him.

  “What’s important,” Justin said, “is my new pocketknife.” He didn’t wait for his mother. He took the chair next to Alma’s bed and kept talking. “Look! I’m learning to hike. We bought a whole bunch of supplies just now.” He looked at Alma. “You ever go hiking?”

  “Yes,” she said. “When I was your age, my brother and I hiked all the time. We hiked our land.”

  “Did you walk to school?” Justin asked.

  “No, my papa hired private tutors to come to the ranch. I always hated it and wished to go to school in the village where I could have friends my own age.”

  “Tell me about it,” Justin said. “Mom homeschooled me for the last three years, but this year I’ll ride to school with my friend Carl. Next year, if I go to the school in Gila City,” he shot a guarded look at his mother, “I’ll take the bus.”

  Mary’s mouth opened. She knew where this was coming from. Broken Bones had “some” sports, Gala City had a “lotta” sports. No doubt Carl and Justin were planning ahead. No, no, no. Justin could finish eighth grade here. Words, reprimands really, wanted to come out, but once again Justin had Alma talking. Reminding him who was in charge of his life would take place later.

  “I always wanted to ride a school bus,” Alma said. “One of the tutors who taught me English had one story about school buses. It was my favorite.”

  Mary closed her mouth. She’d always wanted to ride in a school bus, too. Along with her brothers, she had been chauffeured to school by one of her father’s men. Sometimes she thought the bodyguard had more to do with her lack of friends than her last name.

  Justin nodded. He looked around the room, his face suddenly serious. “Alma, I’m really sorry about your baby. I’ve never even held a baby.”

  Alma smiled sadly. “It’s the best feeling in the world. I’ll bet your mama can tell you that.”

  “She’s right,” Mary agreed. “I remember how warm your little body felt. I’d hold you at night and your hair smelled so sweet and your body felt so good. I’d put you in the crib after you finally fell asleep and I’d be amazed by how I could still feel you in my arms an hour later. It felt that good.”

  “Tomás felt that good?” Justin asked.

  “He felt very good,” Alma agreed, then her eyes filled with tears. “I would hold him at night. We would sit on the porch in the moonlight. The whole family. Tomás would lay up against my left arm and his twin brother up against my right.”

  ELEVEN

  Rico dropped his Sudoku book and started to reach for his phone. No need. Mitch cleared his throat from the doorway. How long he’d been standing there, Mary didn’t know, but judging by the look on his face, it was long enough to hear the bombshell Alma just delivered.

  Mitch gave a slight nod to Rico, who stepped out into the hallway, and then Mitch said, “Alma, you gave birth to twins?” He didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t get excited or act put out that they were just now discovering this information.

  Mary wanted to scream, “T
his is unbelievable! Alma, why didn’t you—”

  Mitch put up a hand, effectively shushing her, and stepped into the room. Mary clamped her lips together so tightly they hurt. Twins! Twins! Alma was missing two babies? Why didn’t she say something yesterday?

  “I did, I gave birth to two babies.” The tears in her brown eyes spilled over now. “I couldn’t tell you the whole story yesterday because the pain was so great, I wanted to die.”

  Mary felt her own eyes water.

  Alma continued. “Carlos died when he was just two weeks old. The midwife was surprised he made it that long. He was so little, so sickly.” She pushed away her tray of food and turned off the television. “Mama said not to talk about him, to concentrate on Tomás and getting strong so we could come to the United States and find Leandro. She said that Carlos was with Jesus and no longer suffering.

  Rico came back from the hallway before Mitch could respond and reported, “Ruth can’t get away. She’s out at the site where Alma says the trucks and coyotes met up. Two of my brothers are there as well as a CSI technician. She says it will be hours before they finish up.”

  Mary looked at Mitch. Today he wore a suit, tailor-made, with a tie. He looked more Esquire than GQ but Mary noticed his eyes. They were tired. No not tired, they were the eyes of a heavily burdened man. Looking back at Alma Mary felt her heart breaking. The loss of a child by someone who was almost still a child herself was incomprehensible. And still this girl seemed to have faith. Justin tried to look unaffected. How did all this affect an eleven-year-old? Was he seeing too much of real life?

  Tomorrow the caseworker came. Sometimes children were taken away from their mothers. Mary couldn’t bear the thought.

  Mitch continued, “Did you know before the babies were born that there were two?”

  “Oh, yes. The midwife tells us very early on. It is what made Leandro so determined to come to the United States.”

  “And Roberto, he was right there, I take it, supporting that venture.”

  “Yes.” Alma nodded. “He acted like my having twins was a personal favor. He acted like he was really the grandpapa.”

  Mary looked at Alma. Vulnerable, young and wounded.

  How many times had Mary felt the same way?

  She scooted her chair closer to Alma and took the girl’s hand. Then, she smiled at Mitch.

  Mitch took a breath and said, “Justin, I want you to go to the cafeteria. What I’m about to share with Alma is private.”

  “Why are you letting my mom stay then?”

  “Because she’s holding Alma’s hand.”

  Mary felt her mouth go dry. To her surprise, Justin nodded and left. The next surprise was Rico, who moved to the right side of Alma’s bed and took the girl’s other hand.

  Rico bowed his head and his lips started moving. He was praying in much the same way Alma had that first day as they drove from the used car lot to Mary’s cabin.

  “Alma,” Mitch said. “As of this morning, my badge has been restored and I intend to make finding Tomás and José my number-one priority.”

  “Thank you, God,” Rico whispered.

  Mary squeezed both their hands.

  Mitch continued, “I’m very good at locating missing people. But to find them, I need you to be brave. The fact that you gave birth to twins is very important. It may explain why José was taken as well as Tomás. Twins were promised, funds were exchanged. I’m thinking your stepfather delivered even after Carlos died.”

  “He delivered ‘twins,’ Tomás and José,” Rico whispered.

  “Were there any problems with your pregnancy?” Mitch asked.

  “Carlos took a long time to be born. The midwife said something about oxygen. Roberto was so upset when Carlos turned out so little, so sickly. It was the first time I thought maybe he was a decent man. But, you are saying Roberto did not turn over my Tomás as payment for the border crossing but because he worked with the coyotes? Because taking babies is his job?”

  Mitch simply nodded. “I think so. You have every right to be angry at this man. He took your son.” Slowly, Mitch reached into his pocket and withdrew a picture. Handing it to Alma, he said, “Is this Leandro?”

  One glance at the picture and the dam burst. There was no need for a yes. Alma’s sobs spoke louder than words.

  “Oh my,” Mary whispered. “It’s true. Everything Mitch guessed is true.”

  Mitch stood there, looking a little gray. “Alma, please stop crying,” he said simply.

  It was Rico who actually figured out what to say. “Alma, Mitch is right. You have to stop crying. Together we’ll find Tomás, we’ll find your mother and brother. And we’ll do whatever it takes to put Roberto in jail for the rest of his life.”

  Alma covered her face. “Why do you have Leandro’s picture?”

  Maybe Mary would have asked the same question. Maybe it would have been a last grab for hope. But Alma knew the answer, Mary could see it in her eyes.

  Alma’s tears fell so fast and furious that Mary ran out of tissues trying to dry them. Finally, after a few minutes, Alma hiccuped and struggled to sit up.

  “How long has he been dead?”

  Mitch recited the date from memory.

  “The day he left,” Alma said. “Did Roberto kill him?”

  “Maybe it’s time to take a break,” Rico said. He sure looked like he needed one.

  “I do not need a break. I need to find my son. I also refuse to get angry,” Alma said, “and I refuse to hate. It will take away from time I want to spend looking for my son, mother and brother. I do not understand God’s reasoning in this.” She looked at Mitch, Mary and Rico then focused on Mitch. “But I understand that God sent you to me. You will find Roberto and see that justice is served. You will help me find my son.”

  “We’ll find your son,” Mary promised Alma.

  Maybe he could help her. And maybe Alma’s faith in him—and God—was right.

  Mitch wondered if Mary realized that Alma believed it would be Mary, Mitch and God all working together.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can sleep now.”

  Mitch took Mary by the arm and tugged her from the room. Rico raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. No doubt he was as surprised by Mary’s promise as Mitch was.

  The little waiting room around the corner was taken. Justin was listening to his iPod and nodding his head. Mitch kept his hold on Mary and pulled her around the corner, away from prying eyes, and tried to glare at her for making Alma a promise he might not be able to keep.

  Instead, he got distracted. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail making her look younger than she was, complementing her red and white striped shirt and red pants. A woman with her past should be wearing dark sunglasses, not looking like a carefree schoolgirl.

  “What?” she finally said.

  Just shoot me now, he thought.

  It would be easier and save time.

  “I enjoyed last night,” he finally said. “You impressed me with how you picked up my concern over Roberto Herrara. I take a lot of pride in hiding my emotions. Yet, I didn’t hide them very well from you. I’m also impressed with how, in the middle of trying to put your own life together, you’re thinking about somebody else’s tragedy.”

  “I can’t imagine losing a son—two sons,” Mary whispered. “It would destroy me.”

  He knew that. She’d managed to stay hidden for three years because there was a slim chance she could lose her son. “You’re a lot like your brother. By the time you left my place last night, I was thinking of Alma as a woman instead of a witness.” Mitch shook his head. “To think, I’m learning compassion from the children of Yano Santellis. I can’t even imagine what the mental health professional the board is making me meet with in order to keep my reinstatement will say about all this.”

  “He’ll say you’re getting better.”

  Mitch shook his head again. “I’m not sure I can get better.” The words surprised him. He hadn’t been aware o
f how deeply he felt. “Look,” he finally said. “I’m making this my last ‘official’ case and it’s going to be a fight. At my hearing this morning they said they want to remove me from the attorney general’s office and put me back in uniform, in front of a computer, where I’ll be doing background checks and grunt duties.”

  “Did you do something wrong?” Mary asked.

  “No.”

  “Then why are they being so hard on you?”

  No one else had asked the question Mary now asked. Maybe they’d been told not to. Or maybe they didn’t want to know.

  “Well?” Mary prodded.

  “I don’t have all the answers—” he began.

  “You have more than most people,” she interrupted. “And according to my brother you’re one of the few law enforcement officers who has the pull to make things happen when you want them to happen. Why has that changed? And why aren’t you doing more to help Alma?”

  “I’m doing plenty to help Alma,” he snapped.

  He was, too. He’d turned over copies of his files to Ruth. Just this morning he’d put her in contact with a border patrol agent who’d once arrested Roberto Herrera, then using an alias. And as soon as he finished with Mary, he’d arranged for an army of men to start checking with pediatricians to see who’d suddenly taken on twin patients. In his heart of hearts, Mitch knew they’d find José and Tomás because twins would stand out more. Especially to a savvy doctor who might notice the “twins” were not even related.

  “Plenty is not enough,” Mary argued. “What are we going to do next?”

  “We?”

  “That poor girl.” Mary shook her head. “You know, when I arrived in Broken Bones last week, I thought my life couldn’t get any worse. I was worried about losing Justin, losing my freedom and losing my sanity.”

  She’d already lost her sanity, Mitch thought, if she thought there was any chance of a we.

  “Then,” she continued, “before I even made it to the cabin, here was this girl.” Mary looked at the waiting room door as if she could see Alma. “She’s got more problems than I do, yet she believes God will take care of all of them. She has faith in the system and in God, like Eric has.”