Blaze a Trail (The Flanagan Sisters, #3)

by Claire Boston

  David understood. Things were moving fast for him and Zita as well, and her family had accepted him without a second thought.

  Would she get the same reception from his family? The idea that his friends might be right didn’t sit well with him, but he had to consider it. Would Bob alienate Zita?

  Because that wouldn’t be OK at all.

  Chapter 13

  Carmen wasn’t out at the mint patch.

  “She’ll be by Papa’s tree,” Zita said. They walked through the garden, and found her sitting under a tree that had been planted in honor of their father. Tears were running down her face.

  “Mama,” Zita said and hurried to hug her.

  “Niñitas.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Do not worry. I am all right.”

  “No you’re not, Mama,” Bridget said. “What’s wrong?”

  She and Carly sat either side of her, Carly still holding Julio.

  Carmen sighed. “It has been a little bit difficult the past few weeks,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without Zita’s help.” She patted Zita’s knee and smiled at her.

  The stab of guilt made it hard to breathe. This was why she couldn’t leave. Her mother needed her.

  “What can we do to help?” Carly asked.

  “Nothing. It will work itself out in the end. Elena is scared of being sent home, so she won’t consider giving Xaviera up for adoption, though she doesn’t want the child. She believes that because the baby is a US citizen, she will be allowed to stay as well, but if she gives her up, she will have to go home.”

  “When is her hearing?” Bridget asked.

  “Next month,” Zita answered.

  “Then there’s Teresa,” Carmen continued. “She asks for news on her mother and sister every day.”

  Zita winced. The girl’s concern was understandable, but the process was slow.

  “We’ll buy the airfares as soon as the application is approved,” Carly said.

  “It won’t be that easy,” Carmen said. “Johanna is being monitored all of the time and Manuela is rarely permitted to visit her family. Getting them away is going to be difficult.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Zita asked. She’d heard nothing more about Teresa’s family.

  “You’ve been busy with the babies, and with David.”

  Her heart squeezed. So now she’d dropped the ball because she had a social life. Was it really going to be all or nothing?

  “Perhaps Fernando can help,” Carly suggested.

  Carmen nodded. “He is trying. He’s arranged a way to communicate with Johanna and given her both our numbers.”

  “That’s great. Hopefully it will ease Teresa’s mind,” Bridget said.

  “Yes,” Carmen agreed. She sighed and got to her feet. “We should go inside and check what the boys have ordered.” She grimaced.

  Bridget and Carly laughed, but Zita wasn’t able to. It was clear her mother needed her.

  How could she pursue her dreams now?

  ***

  Monday evening, when the house had grown silent, Zita closed herself in her bedroom. She should study for her LSAT, but after yesterday she couldn’t go through with it. She couldn’t abandon her mother. She’d spend the evening researching her Irish heritage instead. She flicked on her laptop and crawled onto her bed. Before she got started, there was a knock on her door.

  She sighed. “Yes?”

  Her mother came in. She was holding a letter.

  “What’s up?”

  “This came for you today.” She held it out and Zita took it.

  The logo on the corner of the envelope made her freeze. It was the Law School Admissions Council.

  Feck.

  “Is there something you want to talk to me about?” Carmen didn’t appear upset.

  What was she supposed to say? Zita shifted her laptop onto her bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. “It was something I was considering.” She threw the envelope in the trash. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to do it anymore.”

  “Why not? You would make a good lawyer.”

  Zita stared at her mother. “Do you think so?”

  “Of course. You have the passion and determination. Why have you never said anything?”

  Zita hesitated. Should she admit to her mother how unhappy she was? Should she confide all of her plans and hope she understood?

  “Niñita, you’ve not been happy. Talk to me.”

  She stared at Carmen. “What?”

  Her mother tutted. “You think I don’t know when my child is upset? I’ve been waiting, hoping you will talk to me when you’re ready.”

  Hell. Zita had to be truthful. She took hold of Carmen’s hand. “I wanted to become an immigration lawyer. I wanted to fight for my sisters in the courtroom, not just hold their hands.”

  “And you no longer want to?”

  “Mama, you need my help too much.” Zita sighed. “The girls need so much support, I can’t leave you to do it on your own, and studying law would take up so many hours.”

  “Pfft. What nonsense is this?”

  Zita sat back.

  “Three of the girls are at school full-time. The other three need help, yes, but not so much that you have to give up what you want.”

  “But yesterday you were so upset, you said you needed me.”

  “Yesterday I was emotional.” She waved her hand. “Sometimes it even gets on top of me, but I don’t want my daughter to feel obligated. Are you happy?”

  “I was . . .” That was the truth. “But now I want a little bit more.” How could she explain it without making it seem like she didn’t value what her mother was doing? “I feel so useless when I sit in the courtroom. With each new girl, we go through the same thing and we’re not getting anywhere.”

  Carmen nodded. “It is endless, but we’re making a difference.”

  “You’re making a difference,” she said. “You have all the work with the migrant community as well as the foster girls. I’m just helping out.”

  “If you feel that way, you should definitely find something else to do.” Carmen patted her arm.

  “Really?” She couldn’t believe how calm her mother was being.

  “Of course. I want you to be happy.”

  “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You’ve been doing this for so long.”

  “Sí, and perhaps neglecting my youngest child. It was hard on you when I first began to foster. You were still at school.”

  “No, Mama. I always had your support.”

  “But not all of my time. Tell me about law school.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I have to do an admissions test, which is on Saturday. Even if I get a good score, I still might not get in because I haven’t done an undergraduate degree.”

  “Is the test hard?”

  She shrugged. “It seems all right. I’ve never been the academic one.”

  “Nonsense. You’re as smart as Bridget and Carly.”

  Zita didn’t bother correcting her. “We’ll see.”

  “Zita, you have always been more interested in people than study, but that doesn’t mean you’re not intelligent.” Carmen lifted Zita’s chin.

  “You don’t know that. Neither of us does. None of my grades were great.”

  “Only because school didn’t interest you. I’m sure if you study what you’re passionate about, you’ll be fine.”

  Zita smiled at her mother’s confidence in her. “It’s been a little difficult to find the time to study.

  “Then you will have homework time with the other girls. There’s no getting around it.”

  “All right, Mama. Thank you.”

  She nodded. “I’ll leave you to study.” Carmen hugged her. “But no more keeping secrets from your mother. If you are not happy, I want to know why and how I can fix it.”

  Zita smiled at the stern tone. “Yes, Mama.”

  Carmen kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Waiting
until she closed the door behind her, Zita exhaled slowly. Her mother knew, there was no more hiding. Now if she failed, everyone would know. Which made her all the more determined to succeed.

  ***

  David has his music cranked loud as he worked through the numbers, checking the details in his monthly report. A hand clasped his shoulder, the grip tight, and he knew it was his father. He took the headphones off his ears and turned around.

  “Damn it, David, that’s it. You can’t wear those things at work.” His eyes were narrowed.

  David smiled. “I appreciate your concern, Bob, but I’m more productive when I wear them. It blocks out unnecessary distractions.”

  Bob scowled. “I’m no distraction, I’m your boss.”

  If he wasn’t used to his father’s scowls and gruff nature, Bob could actually seem intimidating. Perhaps that’s how other people saw him. “Absolutely,” David agreed. “I wasn’t referring to you. What do you need?”

  “I need your monthly report now.”

  “I’m reviewing it,” he said. “I’ll have it to you within the hour.”

  “I didn’t say within the hour, I said now.” His chest puffed outward and his eyes brooked no argument.

  It caused David to pause. What was so important? “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your message about the changed deadline.”

  “I didn’t send any message,” he growled.

  “Then you’ll have to wait until it’s finished. There are some numbers I have to check. I’ll send it straight to you when I’m done.”

  Bob glared at him and David met his gaze without flinching.

  “Fine. I want it ASAP.” Bob stalked out of the office.

  David let out a deep breath. Hell. His father was intimidating, he’d just never recognized it before.

  Maybe his friends were right. Maybe Bob wouldn’t be great in politics.

  The thought made him uncomfortable, so he replaced his headphones and continued to work.

  ***

  On Wednesday evening, Zita was too distracted to study. Teresa’s hearing was the next day and she was as nervous as the girl. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep straight away, Zita tried to find something to keep her busy. She was too agitated to read, and wouldn’t be able to concentrate on television. She glanced at the list of goals she’d stuck on her wall after her talk with Carmen on Monday. She’d been meaning to add a goal to research her Irish heritage.

  Well, there was no time like the present. Research would keep her busy for an hour or two and then she’d go to sleep.

  Finding a couple of Irish genealogy websites, Zita entered the details she knew: her father’s name, birth date and the county where he’d lived.

  It took her a while to sift through the information and apply to get his birth certificate. When she was done, she searched for Flanagans in the phone book from that county. A couple of entries came up, but she wasn’t ready to cold-call yet.

  Still not tired, Zita figured that stalking Flanagans on social media was another way to find some answers. She laughed when hundreds of results came up. It was going to take some time to go through the names and really, was there any point? She didn’t know enough to narrow it down. Someone could be a second cousin, or a great aunt or something, but Zita would have no idea who.

  As she idly scrolled through the profile pictures, a guy with strawberry-blond hair caught her eye. She stared for a long moment, not quite believing it, her heart pounding. He looked exactly like her father. She clicked on the link for Sean Flanagan’s profile. He had to be related to her somehow, maybe a second cousin or something. There was too much of a resemblance for it to be a coincidence.

  His profile had very little information. She examined the photo. He was about thirty, had the same blue eyes as Bridget, and the same color hair as her. Zita swallowed. Should she send him a message?

  He might not even reply.

  With a deep breath, she clicked the button to send him a note and stared at the flashing cursor for a long while. What should she say? We could be related?

  After a lot of thought she decided to keep it simple.

  Hi!

  This is going to sound weird, but please read to the end! I’ve been investigating my Irish heritage, and I think we might be related. You look a lot like my father — same color hair and eyes, same surname — so maybe we’re second cousins or something. My father’s name is Brendan Flanagan. He left Ireland in about 1984 and went to El Salvador, where he met and married my mother, and had three kids. He died when I was three, and lately I’ve been curious as to where he came from and if I have any other family in Ireland. Do you recognize any of this story, or perhaps have someone you could ask? I’d love to learn more.

  Anyway, hopefully this hasn’t freaked you out. I’d love an answer even if you know nothing.

  Thanks.

  Zita Flanagan

  She read through it twice. It was worth a try. She hit the submit button and let out a breath.

  With that done, it was definitely time for her to go to sleep. She wanted to be alert for Teresa’s hearing tomorrow.

  ***

  David checked the time and shut down his computer. If he was going to make Teresa’s hearing, he had to leave now.

  “David, I need you in a meeting in five,” Bob called as he walked past the office.

  David grabbed his coat and keys and hurried after his father. “I can’t, Bob. I’m on my way out.”

  “Whatever it is, cancel it. This is important.” Bob entered his office and grabbed a report off his desk.

  David frowned. “It’s Teresa’s asylum hearing. I’ve got to go.”

  “I don’t care. You’re needed here.” The scowl on Bob’s face was ferocious.

  “Sorry, Bob. I promised I’d be there.”

  “And I promised you will be in this meeting.” Bob stared at him. “Call whoever it is and tell them you’re required at work. You’re going to be CEO. You have to be flexible.” He walked out of the room without waiting for David’s response.

  David swore and stood where he was, undecided.

  “You’d better hurry,” Bob’s PA said from her desk. “It looks like there’s real trouble,” she said in a quiet voice before getting up and following Bob.

  He swore again and pulled out his phone to call Zita.

  ***

  Zita hung up from David, frowning. He wasn’t going to make it. It was disappointing, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Teresa was biting her nails in an almost obsessive manner, and at the rate she was going she’d have no nails left by the end of the hearing. Zita took hold of one of Teresa’s hands. “Stop it. I know you’re worried, but try to be calm. Take some deep breaths for me.”

  Teresa did as she was told, but then her leg started bouncing up and down.

  Zita exchanged a glance with Shelly.

  “Teresa Garcia.”

  Teresa gasped as the clerk called her name. Zita squeezed her hand. “Come on.”

  The three of them entered the courtroom and took their seats. The judge read the details of the case and then asked Shelly to begin.

  It was a similar format to the other hearings. The evidence was presented, Teresa told her story and a lawyer for Immigration and Customs Enforcement put his case forward.

  When that was done, the judge said, “You mentioned both Teresa’s mother and sister have applied for asylum.”

  “Yes, your honor,” Shelly replied.

  “Do they have evidence to support their asylum claim?”

  “Yes, your honor. We’ve been able to gather a significant amount of information about the gangs and their treatment of both Manuela and Johanna Garcia.”

  The judge frowned. “Is it fair to say the evidence may have some impact on Teresa’s claim?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “In that case I will assess both applications together.”

  Zita sat there, a little stunned. Both applications were going to be decided today?

 
; “I don’t understand,” Teresa whispered.

  Zita glanced at Shelly for the answer. She appeared as surprised as Zita was.

  “They’re going to assess yours and your mama’s application today,” Shelly told her.

  Teresa’s eyes widened.

  The judge continued talking. She went through all of the paperwork, asked Teresa questions, and then spent some time deliberating.

  “It is my judgment that the asylum and refugee applications for Teresa, Manuela and Johanna Garcia be approved.”

  The tension evaporated and Zita shouted, “Yes!” Her chest swelled with emotion.

  Teresa tugged on her sleeve. “I get to stay?”

  Zita nodded. “And your mama and sister get to come as well.”

  Teresa burst into tears and hugged Zita. “Gracias, gracias.”

  “You’re welcome.” She held the girl tightly as the relief swept over her.

  “We need to move so the next case can come in,” Shelly told them with a gentle smile.

  Zita helped Teresa to her feet, almost carrying her out of the room. It was the best outcome they could have asked for.

  They’d saved another girl.

  Chapter 14

  On Sunday morning, Zita would have been perfectly happy to spend the day in bed. The excitement of Teresa’s hearing and the stress from doing her LSAT yesterday had caught up with her and she wanted to pull up the covers and let David help her forget about the world. But that wasn’t an option. Instead, she had to meet David’s mother and sister.

  “Are you ready?” David asked.

  No. Zita’s stomach clenched. She shouldn’t be nervous. She was good with people, but this was important, this was David’s family. What if they were like Bob and didn’t like immigrants? Anyone who’d lived with Bob Randall for so long had to agree with his political views, didn’t they? David’s mother would probably take one look at her and decide she was no good for her son.

  Zita checked her appearance once more and then nodded, following him out of his apartment and down to his car.

  On the drive to the hotel, David said, “I’m so sorry I missed the hearing and the celebration. Teresa must be so excited. When’s her family going to arrive?”

  Zita pushed her worries aside. “Fernando spoke to Johanna yesterday. Manuela’s birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and the gang have given permission for her to go home and celebrate with her parents. That’s going to be our best chance to get them both out.”