by Casey Dawes
She unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to him. “This might help.”
He scanned the information—a support group for people who’d had family members deported was forming.
“I’ve never heard of this.”
“Will you go?”
“I’ll think about it.” How much would she force the issue? He could get his mood swings back under control without having to dissect his life with a bunch of strangers.
“I can’t force you to go; you’re a grown man.”
He let his shoulders relax.
“But”—she leaned forward—“you’ve been carrying this a long time. It happened, and it’s tragic, but resentment is a cancer to any relationship—in the office or outside it. Ultimately, it will affect the good work you do. Are you willing to let the government ruin your life?”
“I can control it.”
“No, you can’t.” Her eyes narrowed.
“So it’s this or get out?” His voice hardened with distress.
“Why are you fighting me so hard on this, Raúl? What are you afraid you’ll discover? No, I’m not going to force you out of the partnership.”
The unspoken “yet” reverberated in the office.
“When my parents were deported,” he said, hoping to make her understand, “it felt like my country—the country I’d been born in, the country of the flag I saluted every day, my country—had betrayed me.” Why couldn’t people understand his heartbreak?
“But that’s changing,” Hadiya said.
“It’s a little late for me,” he said, gripping his hands together.
“True. But you can be there for the next generation—see that children get the health care they need so they grow up to be successful.”
“Ha!” he spat out. “Except people like this Joe Wilson want to take that right away from me.”
“So we’ll fight him.” She tapped her slender fingers on the chair arm. “But all of this doesn’t change my concern. Your past was horrible, and I’m sorry it happened to you, but don’t you think it’s time to rejoin the living and move forward? You can’t fight the Joe Wilsons of the world if you’re too busy fighting the battles of the past.”
Maybe she was right. He had to accept his childhood as it was, not like he wanted it to be. His parents had moved on, as painful as it was. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
While the answer wasn’t substantially different from the one he’d given her earlier, she seemed to accept this one, because she gave him a warm smile and stood.
“Take it easy on the staff in the meantime, will you? They’re good people and deserve a break.”
“Yeah.” His mind was already racing as she left his office. Would the support group really be the answer? He hated the idea, but if it could help him repair his relationship with Alicia, maybe it would be worth it.
Another knock on the door. This time, he held his temper when the door immediately opened.
“There are some men here to see you.” The newest receptionist had to be right out of high school.
Mindful of Hadiya’s warning, he made his voice soft. “Any idea who they are?”
“They have badges.”
“Then you’d better send them back.”
He stood when the two neatly pressed, short-haired men were ushered into his office. “How can I help you?”
No need to invite them to get comfortable.
“Special Agent John Sargent.” The taller, thinner one held out his hand.
Raúl looked at it for a second before shaking.
“And this is Agent Thompson.”
The second man held out his hand.
Once again, Raúl completed the ritual.
“May we sit down?” Agent Sargent asked.
“What agency are you from?” If they were going to arrest him, no need for any more niceties.
“Homeland Security.”
That didn’t really tell him much. The Department of Homeland Security had tentacles in almost every agency the federal government had ever dreamed up.
“How can I help you?”
“May we sit down?” Agent Sargent repeated.
Raúl shrugged. “Sure.” He waited until they’d settled before sinking into his own leather chair. Having lost the first skirmish, he kept silent.
Sargent tapped on the smartphone he held in his hand. “Do you know a Juan Mendez?”
Raúl hesitated. How much did the feds already know? “There are many Mendezes. I can’t be sure you are speaking about someone I may know.”
Sargent’s lips flattened. “I think you know we are talking about the same Juan Mendez. It would be the brother of Javier and Jorge. All three were deported ten years ago, along with their parents. Only the anchor baby remained. That would be you, Raúl Mendez, wouldn’t it?”
Raúl’s mouth tasted like bitter lemon. He nodded but remained silent. Experience had taught him to offer as little information as possible.
“According to Mexican authorities, Juan has been seen working with the vigilantes fighting the drug cartels in Sonora.” Sargent’s dark eyes stared at Raúl. “He appears to have been quite effective. So successful, in fact, there’s a bounty on his head from the cartel.”
Raúl’s muscles tensed, but still he kept silent, waiting for the feds to play out their hand.
The silence lengthened, but finally one of the officials gave in.
“We have reason to believe he’s crossed the border into the States,” Agent Thompson said.
His partner glared at him.
“And?” Raúl laid his palms flat on his desk, pushing down on the cool wood.
“We need to know if he contacts you.” The eager-beaver agent earned another glare from his partner.
“So you can do what, exactly?” Raúl forced himself to keep his hands steady, although he longed to bunch them into fists and use them on the representatives of the government that had cost him his family.
The talkative fed opened his mouth again.
Agent Sargent cleared his throat.
Thompson’s mouth snapped closed.
Sargent leaned forward. It was amazing how such a thin man could become more intimidating with such an insignificant action. “We’re trying to help him, Raúl, but he can’t be in this country illegally.”
“So you want me to tell you he’s here so you can ship him back to Mexico to be killed?” Raúl stood. “This conversation is over, gentlemen.”
The two men rose as well.
“We’re trying to help here, Mr. Mendez.” Special Agent John Sargent put his card on the desk. “Please let us know if you hear from your brother. He’ll be better off if you do.”
The agent’s voice held the underlying threat: So will you.
Raúl walked around his desk. “I’ll show you the way out.”
“No need to bother,” Sargent said.
“My pleasure.”
Raúl walked the agents to the clinic’s front doors and watched the men step into their shiny black Lincoln.
Chapter 11
Sun breaking through the morning fog warmed Alicia as she walked from the Boardwalk parking lot to the Giant Dipper, Santa Cruz’s landmark roller coaster. She’d agreed with Josh that the ride was the best way to start off the day.
“Hi,” she said when she spotted him.
“Hi, you. I got the tickets. Ready to go?”
“Sure.” Behind him in line, she swept her palms across her shorts. She shouldn’t be nervous. It was just a date.
She’d never been on a date, unless she counted the brunch with Raúl.
Guilt touched her.
“C’mon up here.” Josh draped a casual arm around her shoulders. “I love this roller coaster. Don’t get me wrong. The Double Shot is awesome, and we’ll do that later, but the Dipper is so classic—kind of like a 1960s Mustang convertible.”
She’d never been on the faster, more modern roller coaster. Would she make a fool of herself? Maybe this hadn’t been her brightes
t idea.
They stepped into a brightly painted orange car, and the attendant secured the bar. As the car started its slow climb up the wooden trestle, flutters in her stomach let her know she wasn’t as ready for this ride as she’d thought she’d been.
Josh was practically bouncing in his seat. “Man, this is cool. We’re going to have a good time today.” He squeezed her hand, a boy on a first date.
She wanted to feel the same as he appeared—a carefree teen with no worries other than the next exam. If she tried harder, could she pull it off?
Her stomach lurched as the car slid over the apex and down the rails, only to begin its relentless assent and descent with the next hill. And the next. And the next.
She hung on to the safety bar and screamed.
At least she thought she was the one making the noise she heard.
Finally, the exhilaration caught up to her, and her screams turned to laughter. Josh had a broad smile. He lifted the palm of his hand toward her.
She swallowed, dared to take a hand off the bar, and high-fived him.
This had been the right decision. She was over Raúl. She needed to be with someone her own age, not someone who was twisted with secrets. There’d been enough of that with her parents.
“Double Shot next,” Josh declared.
“I’m not sure ...”
“Oh, c’mon. This is fun! Don’t tell me you’ve never been on it.”
She shook her head. “I went on the Giant Dipper and the Ferris wheel once, when I was little. Those are the only rides I’ve ever done. I grew up in Los Banos. My mother didn’t like to come over here.”
Too afraid she’d run into Elizabeth.
“We’ll change all that today.”
True to his word, Josh took her on every thrill ride on the Boardwalk—Undertow, Fireball, Tsunami. For minutes, she’d forget she was a mother, but as soon as she spotted a stroller, reality would tow her under. All the adrenaline in the world couldn’t change the facts.
After the Cliff Hanger, worn out by the constant tension of being thrown in different directions, she asked for something a little quieter.
“Bumper cars?”
“Okay.” The Ferris wheel was more what she had in mind, but he’d already told her those kinds of rides were for babies and old people.
Too bad. She loved the slow-moving wheel with its leisurely views of the bay.
“Let’s get something to eat first.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the corn dog booth. “My favorite. How about you?”
“Sure.” For Boardwalk food, it was okay, but she was getting tired. She had a full load of work and classes ahead of her, not to mention her nightly battle with Luis.
As they were walking away from the food booth, her phone rang. Glancing at the readout, she said, “It’s my grandmother. I need to take this.”
Answering, she said, “Abuela, what’s up?”
“I’m sorry to ruin your time, but I’m not feeling well. I’m so tired. Can you come home?”
“Of course.” Worry thrummed against her temples. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ended the call. “I have to go,” she told Josh. “My grandmother is ill. She can’t take care of Luis anymore today.”
He grabbed her hand. “Can’t you find someone else? We were having so much fun. And”—he wiggled his eyebrows—“we still haven’t done the Haunted House ride.”
“I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped.” She didn’t have time for a make-out ride, and she wasn’t interested. Why couldn’t he understand?
“Wow, it must be hard being tied down by a kid all the time.”
“We’re a package deal, Luis and I.” She touched his arm to lighten the sting she heard in her words. “Thanks for asking me, Josh. This has been fun, but I need to go.”
As she rushed to her car, she remembered why she’d been attracted to Raúl. He didn’t need a haunted house full of pretend ghosts. He’d had plenty of experience with real wraiths, just like she had.
They were alike in that way—two souls who’d lost their innocence at a young age—a treasure that someone like Josh still had.
No wonder her classmate didn’t understand her.
• • •
“Don’t you have class on Tuesday evening?” Sarah asked as she put a plate of steaming spaghetti in front of Alicia.
“Yes.” She glanced at Luis in the playpen with Hannah. So far, both toddlers seemed content to play side by side.
“Then why are you here?” Hunter asked.
“My grandmother—” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “There’s something wrong with her heart. She got really tired on Sunday, and I took her to the doctor yesterday.”
Sarah sat down and put her hand on Alicia’s. The warmth comforted her.
“You know. The usual thing. They need to do tests. But the doctor thinks she may have a blockage of some kind.”
“The good news is they’ve figured out how to correct most heart problems so they’re not life-threatening,” Hunter said as he placed the remaining plates on the table. “The trick is to get them diagnosed and the procedures scheduled.”
“But I’m betting in the meantime, you want to give your grandmother a break,” Sarah said.
Alicia nodded.
“You shouldn’t have to give up school. Why don’t you leave Luis here while you go?”
“Yes. Raúl and I talked about it when he was here on the Fourth,” Hunter said.
Sarah glared at her husband.
“It’s okay,” Alicia said. “Raúl meant well.” She didn’t want to talk about what had happened on the Fourth.
Sarah must have picked up on her silent message. “How did the date with Josh go? I love going to the Boardwalk. I can’t wait until Hannah is old enough.”
“I don’t think Josh is the right person for me.”
“Why not?”
She struggled to find the words to describe her reaction to the date. “He’s my age, but he seems so young.”
“That happens,” Hunter said. “You see it in guys who’ve been to the Middle East. They come home and try to be with the same friends they had in high school. It doesn’t work. War made them older—just like having a baby made you older. You’ve had to be more responsible.”
Her half sister had also had a baby under stressful circumstances. And Hunter had survived his deployment. They all had scars of one kind or another.
Like Raúl.
“You should give Raúl another chance,” Hunter said.
Sarah shook her head at him. “Stop butting into her life.”
“I’m just telling it like it is. He seems like a good guy. He obviously cares about Alicia.”
“But she has to trust him,” Sarah said.
“Trust is built over time. Remember how we had to fight through some of our own stuff to get together? She has to work things through with Raúl, not abandon him at the first sign of trouble.”
“Can you two stop talking about me like I’m not here?” She needed a change of subject. “How are plans for the wedding going?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “My mother is going to make me crazy. She wants this to be the perfect wedding, and you know how detail-oriented she can be. I think she talks to the priest more than Hunter and I do.” She took a sip from her water glass. “I wish Marcos would take her on another trip. Then maybe I could get this wedding planned without her interference.”
“She’s only trying to help.”
“You get married and see how you like the ‘help.’ You know she’ll have opinions about everything you do.”
Alicia laughed, and some of the tension released from her shoulders.
They were right. She could get her life together. All she had to do was find some temporary help—help that didn’t involve Raúl. Would Sarah still support her if she knew she wasn’t managing Elizabeth’s store anymore?
There was only one way to find out.
“Do you think your mother would be angry if I d
idn’t take over the shop? I mean, she was so generous to let me work there—especially since … well, you know.”
“I don’t think so. Mom says we each have our own lives to live.” She leaned forward. “Of course she doesn’t always act that way, especially when it comes to things like weddings and granddaughters.” She chuckled. “And I don’t think she’d really be surprised.”
“What?”
Daisy, who’d been quietly napping in a corner, got up and started to pace.
“I’ll let her out,” Hunter said. “C’mon, girl.”
After Hunter left the room, Sarah continued. “You’re a really smart girl, Alicia.”
“Yeah, that’s why I have a kid at eighteen.”
“Everyone does things they wish they hadn’t. It’s life. You taught me that. When I was on bed rest, you were the one who came and made life brighter for me. I’ll never forget that. You’re smart and you’re good and you deserve the best that life has to offer.”
Tears welled in Alicia’s eyes. She had no idea Sarah had such faith in her.
Did she have the same faith in herself?
“How are things going with the coach?”
Alicia’s heart dropped. “I’ve had to reschedule a couple of appointments. The holiday ... work ... Abuela.” Excuses. She splayed her hands.
“It’s hard. It’s supposed to be hard.” Sarah pointed at Alicia. “It’s about changing your beliefs in yourself and everyone around you.” She wagged her finger again. “Maybe even changing your belief about Raúl. Even though he spoke out of turn, I agree with Hunter.”
“Did I just hear what I thought I did? My fiancée saying I was right?” Hunter put his arms around Sarah and kissed her.
A pang of jealousy sliced through Alicia. What would it be like to be loved so easily by a man—a relationship devoid of drama?
She picked up her plate and took it to the sink.
“How are your classes going? Do you like them?” Hunter asked as he brought over the other dishes.
“Business finance—not so much, but I’m really enjoying the sociology. And the teacher thinks I’m good. Well, that may change by exam time, but she’s encouraging.”