by Alexa Verde
Her heart sank. Were they still better off without her? At least she’d broken it off with Rodrigo before anybody got attached. A tug on her heart told her it was too late for her.
A seagull flew low, and Junior chased after it, laughing. Despite his rough childhood, he had an easygoing, cheerful, and kind nature. He returned to her, and she ruffled the hair on his head. Her son was worth all the struggle, all the doubts.
She thanked God that Junior had turned out as well as he had.
As they continued walking, her thoughts drifted off to Chicago and the nonprofit Roy had founded and Harry volunteered at. Yesterday, she’d recorded her testimony and emailed it to Harry. Today early in the morning, before she’d picked up Junior, Harry had called her and had said several people had wanted to ask her questions. She’d done an hour-long internet session. She had no right or education to do counseling or give advice, so she’d simply given her perspective. She’d answered their questions honestly, without sugarcoating anything.
About breaking her fingers one by one so she wouldn’t be able to give herself a shot. About abscesses filled with pus. About the excruciating pain of withdrawal when, several times, she’d decided to quit by herself, without checking into rehab. About constant checkups at the doctor’s office because of the danger of contracting blood-pathogen diseases as sometimes they’d shared syringes instead of using disposable ones.
And about the incredible sensations given by drugs, the euphoria, overpowering cravings, and why it was so difficult to quit forever.
She’d also been honest about accepting Christ and the change it had made in her life.
People had said she’d helped them understand what their loved ones had been going through better. Everyone had asked to show her testimony to their loved ones affected by addiction, and she’d agreed without hesitation.
After the session had ended, she’d called Gnat and Caleb, but they’d only insisted on her coming back and hadn’t wanted to listen about quitting drugs. Emma suppressed a sigh. She didn’t know how to get through to them...
And then...
Something amazing happened that snapped her out of her grim thoughts.
Junior slipped his little hand in hers. Her heart jumped in her throat as she tried to comprehend this unexpected gift.
Thank You, Lord.
“Why did you stop moving?” Junior frowned. “Aren’t you hungry?”
At that moment, she felt she could go without food for days as joy overwhelmed her. She resumed her pace. “Sorry.”
Once inside the restaurant that had a roof but no walls, Junior raced to the counter. “I want fish sticks!”
There was a line there, but thankfully, it moved fast. Soon she got drinks and fish sticks for Junior and herself, in case one portion wasn’t enough for him.
She scanned the seating area and frowned. All the tables were occupied. If it were up to her, she’d be okay with eating on a large towel on the beach, but she wanted her son to be comfortable.
“Emma! Would you like to sit here?” Rodrigo’s voice reached her from somewhere on the left. He waved at her from a table with empty seats.
Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her voice failed her. Just in the matter of three meetings, Rodrigo had started affecting her strongly. When she’d cut ties with him, she’d cut them for good. She didn’t expect to see him now.
But... did I hope to?
Why is he calling for me when by all means he should avoid me?
As if tired of waiting for her to answer, Junior headed in Rodrigo’s direction. Then he glanced back, an expectant expression in his eyes.
Emma had no choice but to head after her son. She made a mental note to have a conversation with Junior about not talking to strangers.
Rodrigo got up and took the tray from her hands.
“This is Rodrigo Ybarra...” She paused, struggling for the correct word, especially one easy for a child to understand. She hoped the situation wasn’t too awkward or puzzling to her boy. “Rodrigo is my friend. This is Junior, my son.”
“We don’t live together. I have a new family now,” Junior said with authority.
Emma winced at the child’s frankness and the painful reminder of her transgressions, the reason her own flesh and blood lived separate from her, raised by a different woman. A bitter taste filled her mouth.
Junior continued, not looking puzzled in the least, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ybarra.”
“Nice to meet you, Junior.” Rodrigo smiled at the child. He glanced at Emma, a worried expression in his eyes, as if concerned if she was okay.
She gave a little nod. “Would you say grace, please?”
Rodrigo took her and Junior’s hands and bowed his head. “Dear Heavenly Father, please bless this food and make it nutritious to us. Please help Emma and Junior and make them happy. Amen.”
“Amen,” Junior echoed.
As her son started munching on fish sticks and fries, Emma sat motionless for several long moments. She was glad Junior prayed before meals, but it wasn’t she who’d taught him. Dylan had. Like so many other things.
Rodrigo sent a couple more worried glances her way but didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he chatted with Junior while finishing his fried tilapia. Soon they were eagerly discussing some video games Emma had no clue about.
She sipped her iced tea and watched their interaction, the cold, sweet taste a welcome respite to the heat and her parched throat. Apparently, Rodrigo was a natural with children. Who would’ve guessed?
He’d make a great dad. Probably, he’d be one by now if someone hadn’t killed his wife. Someone with the same issue she’d had.
“Can Mr. Ybarra play video games with me this afternoon?” Junior’s voice tore her out of her musings.
“Mr. Ybarra will probably be busy,” she said carefully.
Rodrigo shook his head. “No, I’m free.”
“Yay!” Junior returned to his fries with enthusiasm.
Emma narrowed her eyes at Rodrigo, but he merely smiled at her. Junior finished his portion quickly, and she moved her plate to him.
“Thanks!” The boy dug in.
“Would you like me to buy you something else?” Rodrigo asked.
“No, thank you.” A warm wave spread inside her.
She was grateful for this beautiful afternoon, for the smile on her boy’s face, and for the few minutes with the man she was becoming more and more attracted to. All precious memories she’d tuck away.
The next few hours were full of fun and laughter, especially when they headed to Rodrigo’s bungalow, and he went inside and came back with Amigo.
Junior squealed in delight. Emma smiled. Her son already owned a dog, a German shepherd by the name of Colton, who frankly filled her with fear. But it obviously never diminished the boy’s love for dogs.
After running around with Amigo, Rodrigo brought purple beach chairs and a huge umbrella in a cheerful blue and yellow and placed them on the sand.
While he and Junior sat down in chairs and played video games, Emma walked to the ocean. The ocean was her old friend, one of few.
The beauty of the Lord’s creation never ceased to amaze her, of course, once she had a mind clear enough to see it.
It had also brought distant memories of vacations she’d had with her parents...
Her phone beeped with an incoming text in her pocket. She winced, hating to be thrown out of the beauty and serenity into the reality of her former life. She fished out the phone with trembling fingers. But even without looking at the screen, she could guess what the text would say.
Cold seeped through her bones, despite the warm day.
YOU WILL PAY.
Clenching her teeth, she glanced back, checking on Junior. Her boy was grinning, deeply absorbed in the game, and she took a breath of salty air. She wasn’t going to let somebody’s vengefulness ruin her day. So far, the police had tracked the texts down to a throwaway phone.
Emma tucked her phone deep into her p
ocket and her worry deeper. She let the sun warm up her skin and listened to Junior’s excited screams in the short distance. He must be winning, or Rodrigo was letting him. Quiet joy stirred inside her, so tentative that a little scare would make it disappear like a frightened doe in the forest.
She said a silent prayer of gratitude.
She’d never lived one day at a time.
She’d lived one hour, one minute at a time, knowing that at any moment she could die from an overdose. Now she could hope that when the new day arrived, like a mysterious gift at her doorstep, she’d still be here to unwrap it, instead of being hit on the head by it like a heavy box fallen from a shelf.
“Mom, can I take off my shoes and run in the water?” The voice behind her sounded like Junior’s.
Emma stilled. It couldn't be, of course. Junior hadn’t called her Mom since... Well, she had extremely vague memories of the time when he’d called her Mom.
Emma turned around, and her eyes widened.
“Mom, please?” Junior ran to her.
Her heart about stopped beating in her chest and then resumed with wild force. Her throat closed up from emotion.
“Other kids do it. It’s warm enough. People even swim!” Her son waved around for persuasion.
“Okay,” she managed to push through her constricted throat.
Immediately, she scolded herself. Junior was accident-prone. But how could she deny his request when he’d called her Mom?
“Awesome!” Junior kicked off his shoes and socks and ran along the water.
Rodrigo approached her. “You look startled. Happily startled.”
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered.
The wind whipped her hair onto her face. Time seemed to stand still. She wanted it to stand still because she was eager to treasure this moment forever.
Thank You, Lord. Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!
She watched her son run along the water. “Junior called me Mom.”
“Kids are resilient and forgiving. Besides, you are his mom.” Rodrigo brushed hair away from her face.
She inhaled sharply as a pleasant feeling spread inside her stomach at his touch. “I don’t deserve to be.” And neither did she deserve to feel like this.
“God gives us precious gifts, whether we deserve them or not. Why don’t you accept it with gratitude? You’re a good mother now.”
Is my life finally turning around?
Junior’s scream reached her ears, piercing her heart.
CHAPTER SIX
“JUNIOR!” EMMA TOOK OFF IN a run toward him, her pulse rapid.
Rodrigo was right by her side and reached her boy first, followed by Amigo, who was barking nonstop. “What happened?” To Amigo, Rodrigo said, “Sit.”
The dog obeyed.
“It hurts!” Junior limped toward him.
“Honey, where does it hurt?” The tears in her son’s eyes crushed Emma.
He lifted his foot. Several drops of blood trickled from Junior’s right heel. The air left her lungs.
Emma was about to scoop him up, but Rodrigo had already moved closer and lifted Junior up. As much as she wanted to hold her son, she knew it wasn’t wise to ask for Junior to be passed to her. She didn’t have enough strength to carry him. Years of addiction had taken most of her strength away.
“Mom?” Junior’s voice rose with notes of panic in it.
“It’s going to be okay, honey,” she said with reassurance she didn’t feel.
“Emma, see those shards of glass stuck in the sand?” Rodrigo pointed at the remains of a bottle sparkling in the sun. “Probably from a broken bottle. Junior, did you step on something and then it hurt?”
Amigo growled in the direction of shards.
Her son nodded, his lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. You’re not the one who threw away the bottle.” Indignation rose inside her while she carefully scooped up the pieces so nobody else would get hurt. She placed them in a pocket inside her purse to throw away later.
“My rental is right nearby. I’ll take him there to examine his foot. Is that okay?” Rodrigo’s voice was strong, confident.
It was exactly what she needed at the moment while her insides were shaking. “Of course.”
“Amigo, come.” Rodrigo headed in the direction of the bungalow, his stride fast, the dog trotting nearby. “I’m also trained in first aid. Will you allow me to administer aid if needed?”
“Yes.” She increased her pace to keep up with Rodrigo. Her heart bled from worry for her little boy. “Please do anything to help my son.”
“We’ll still have to take him to the ER.” Rodrigo’s voice was full of compassion.
Emma’s shoulders slumped forward.
“We’ll take care of you, Junior. Don’t you worry.” Rodrigo’s voice was reassuring as he talked to the boy.
“I know.” The child leaned to him.
Emma’s heart squeezed in her chest, partly at so much trust in Junior’s voice, partly at Rodrigo’s use of the word we.
She needed to call Dylan and Joy to tell them about Junior and to ask for permission to administer help. They had custody of her son now, so technically they were his parents. Emma’s gut twisted. They’d never let her see Junior alone again. It shouldn’t matter right now. The main thing was Junior’s well-being.
While keeping her pace alongside Rodrigo’s, she took her phone out of her purse and scrolled to Dylan's phone number. Her throat tight, she pressed the call button.
Dylan answered on the third beep. “Hello, Emma.”
Emma swallowed hard. “Junior stepped on a shard of glass at the beach. A sheriff from a nearby town is my friend and can administer first aid. Will you be okay with that? Then we’ll take Junior to the ER.”
“Yes. Have the sheriff administer help. Please let me talk to Junior.” Dylan’s voice went from neutral to full of worry.
She passed the phone to Junior. They were a couple of steps away from Rodrigo’s rental.
“Daddy, I’m fine!” Her son’s tear-stricken face contradicted his words. “Just my foot hurts a little.” After listening to something, his son passed the phone back to Emma just as they reached Rodrigo’s rental.
“I’ll meet you both in the ER.” Dylan’s voice became clipped.
“The door is open,” Rodrigo whispered.
Emma pushed the door open and stepped inside. Rodrigo walked in and placed Junior on the bed in the bedroom, and she followed.
“I haven’t been using. Honest!” Emma said into the phone, but Dylan had already disconnected.
Guilt slammed into her. Her hands shook as she tried to put the phone into her purse, and the phone slid to the floor and fell with a loud thunk. Everything inside her begged for the calming, pleasant spread of drugs in her body. It could make her forget about everything. It would be so easy.
One dose. Just one.
Dylan probably wouldn’t let her see Junior after today, anyway, so what was the point in staying clean?
“Are you okay?” Rodrigo’s concerned voice was like a warm blanket thrown over her shoulders.
God’s love is unconditional.
Rodrigo’s words rang in her ears.
God gave you this life as a gift.
She couldn’t throw it away by using drugs again.
Emma said a silent prayer for her son.
Junior needed a strong mom, not one who was falling apart or high on drugs.
She pulled her shoulder blades back, picked up her phone, and put it back in her purse. “What can I do to help?”
Rodrigo gently probed Junior’s foot. “The glass feels close to the surface. Would you like me to get it out?”
Emma nodded.
“Okay then. The bathroom is the first door on the right. Get a small bowl from under the sink and fill it with hot water, but not so hot that Junior can’t tolerate it. Bring it here.” Rodrigo headed to the kitchen. “Amigo, I’ll leave you to guard Junior.”
>
The dog sat down on the rug nearby and gave his agreement with a bark.
Emma ran to the bathroom, washed her hands with soap, and returned to the bedroom with a bowl filled with hot water, but not scaldingly hot.
Rodrigo was already there. A bottle with castor oil, a box with Epsom salt, a first aid kit, and a tiny bottle with alcohol solution were on the nightstand now, as well as a wet washcloth.
He carefully cleaned Junior’s foot with the wet washcloth and disinfected it with the alcohol solution.
Once done, he took the container from her. “Try this water with your finger and tell me if it feels okay to you.” Rodrigo leaned to her son and helped him sit up. He poured the salt in the bowl and then held the bowl in front of Junior.
Instead of just using one finger, Junior stuck his entire hand into the bowl and nodded. “It’s fine.”
Rodrigo placed the bowl on the floor. “Put your foot inside and tell me if it’s still feels okay.”
Junior placed his foot inside the bowl. “It’s okay.”
“Good job, buddy.” Rodrigo opened the first aid kit. “Emma, I’ll go boil tweezers to disinfect them. In about fifteen minutes, dab some gauze from the kit in castor oil and rub very carefully over his foot. Castor oil should help bring the glass to the surface.”
“I will.” Her heart in the pit of her stomach, she leaned over her son.
The beige bedspread was stained in blood, and her heart dipped. She needed to hold on to something, and that something couldn’t be drugs, no matter how badly she needed a dose right now.
Prayer.
“Let’s pray.” She managed a reassuring smile for her boy’s sake.
“Yes, Mom.” Junior put his hands together for a prayer.
Words came tumbling down. It was much easier to pray for her son than for herself. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help my son and heal him. In the holy name of Your beloved Son, Jesus Christ, Amen.”
She didn’t feel completely at peace after the prayer, but her insides and her hands weren’t shaking anymore. She kept watch of the time, so fifteen minutes later, she took Junior’s foot out of the bowl, his skin very warm against hers, and carefully rubbed castor oil over the surface under which the glass hid.