A Child's Gift

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A Child's Gift Page 8

by Linda Warren


  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No. I just woke up early.” She shrugged. “Force of habit.”

  “Oh.” He stepped toward Dusty’s room. “Is the kid okay?”

  That’s what she loved most about him; his loving nature.

  “He’s sound asleep.”

  Rico glanced around at the dark house. “You didn’t turn on any lights.”

  “I didn’t want to wake anyone and the moon is bright.” She glanced toward the kitchen window. “I was just going to drink a cup of coffee and relax. Would you like a cup?”

  “Mmm...yeah...sure.”

  She handed him a mug.

  “Thanks, Ana.”

  She was startled when he called her by her nickname. “You called me Ana.”

  “If it’s okay, I think I’ll call you Ana from now on. When I say Anamarie, I can hear your mother’s voice saying your name in that critical tone. I’d rather not hear her voice in my head.”

  Laughter erupted from her throat. “Okay.” She had no problem with that. Sometimes she could hear her mother’s voice, too. It was time now to be the woman she should have been years ago.

  They sat at the kitchen table and it was comfortable and nice. It was even nicer to share the early morning with him, especially in the dark room where they could talk freely without the intimidation of the light.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.”

  “Why do you wear your hair so long? It’s not that I don’t like it, I do. I just wonder why. It has to be hot in the summertime.”

  He pushed his hair away from his face. “When I was about fourteen, Dominic Santiago, leader of a Houston gang, recruited me to peddle his drugs. I refused, but he threatened to kill my great-grandmother. I had no choice. He made me cut my hair short so I’d appear like an all-American boy and the cops wouldn’t notice me. I swore then I would never wear my hair short again. It’s my statement of freedom.”

  With the tip of her forefinger, she touched the scar on his face. “Did he do that?”

  He nodded. “When I was eighteen, I graduated high school and I’d had enough. I wanted out. Two of his guys jumped me, but it took six of them to bring me down. Santi got on top of me and told me the only way I was leaving was in a pine box. He tried to slit my throat, but I turned my head and he split my cheek. Blood gushed everywhere and then they stuck a needle in my arm. I woke up in an alley with a homeless man looking at me. I told him where to take me and my grandmother gave him five dollars for his troubles.”

  She was sickened at what they had done to him and could only imagine what he’d been through as a teenager. Her heart ached for that young boy who had no other choices.

  “My grandmother couldn’t take me to the ER because the drugs were still in my system and I would be arrested. She nursed me back to health, but Santi still wouldn’t leave us alone. One day a cop stopped me because a taillight was out on my car and there was Santi’s poison on my passenger seat to be delivered. I went down for dealing and manufacturing. And I was just the delivery boy.”

  “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through.” She looked directly into his dark eyes. “You’ve been in Horseshoe for years and you’ve had no contact with this Santi person. You’ve been free for a long time.”

  He moved restlessly. “Sometimes I feel as if I can see him in my peripheral vision. All I have to do is turn my head and he’s there. I’m not free and I never will be.”

  “Rico.” She touched his hand, feeling his pain as if it were her own. “He can’t hurt you anymore. Do you even know where he is?”

  “As part of the deal for my pardon from the governor I had to tell where I had gotten the drugs. Santi was already in prison as was most of his gang. Miss Kate and the governor’s representative came to prison for my statement. Three days later I was released. Egan was waiting for me.”

  “Rico, you don’t have to say anything else.”

  He finished his coffee and got to his feet. “I’ll get dressed before the kid wakes up.”

  Anamarie now understood why he worked so hard for the Rebels—out of gratitude. He was grateful for what they had done for him. They’d given him a life and he would never forget that. She just wished he would understand that everyone loved him for the person he was and not for the person he’d been. They were probably one and the same, though. To love Rico now she had to love the man he’d been years ago. She had no problem with that. Love was love any way you turned it. She loved Rico and she would prove it every day she was with him.

  * * *

  WHEN RICO CAME out of the bedroom, Ana showed him the drawing. “I forgot to show you this. Dusty drew it in school.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to say about it so I didn’t say anything. He just handed it to me. What should we do?”

  “He’s forming a bond with us and...”

  “I know, it’s not good, but what can we do? We want him to be happy and to be able to adjust to everything that’s going on in his life. We can handle this, can’t we?”

  He reached into a drawer and pulled out a heart-shaped magnet. “Justin was about two when he started drawing pictures for my refrigerator. Rachel bought colorful magnets to put them up. But there were so many they started falling off and Rachel suggested that Justin put the pictures in a scrapbook-type thing.”

  “You really are a part of the Rebel family.”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?” She shook her head at him.

  To keep from discussing his family status he took the drawing from her and attached it to the refrigerator. “Now we can see it and he can see it and nothing else needs to be said.”

  He stood for a moment, enjoying the feeling of happiness she brought to him. A life without her, he couldn’t imagine. She seemed to be a part of him now. She understood him and accepted him the way he was.

  With a smile on his face, he went to get coffee. But he had to wonder if there was a time limit on happiness.

  * * *

  THE MORNING WENT smoothly. Dusty woke up and Anamarie fixed breakfast, and then Dusty wanted to watch cartoons. He was happy. No sign of sadness on his face. Anamarie got his pillow and a blanket and he lay in front of the TV completely engrossed in it.

  Her phone buzzed as she was putting dishes in the dishwasher. She frowned. “It’s my mother.”

  Rico closed the dishwasher. “Answer it. We said we would be honest and straightforward.”

  She clicked on. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Anamarie, you weren’t in church this morning.” Her mother’s critical tone jerked the bow off her present of happiness.

  “I know.” She kept her voice as civil as possible.

  “At the funeral yesterday, the pastor said the little boy got upset and y’all took him home. Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine now. He just needs a lot of attention to help him get through this.”

  “I don’t like you missing church, Anamarie.”

  Her hand tightened on the phone and she chose her words carefully. “I feel God has me right where He wants me, helping Rico take care of this little boy who has no one. I’m happy. Please be happy for me. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Thank you.” She hung up with a long sigh.

  “Painful, huh?” Rico leaned against the counter with his arms folded across his chest, watching her.

  “Yes. My mother is so obsessive about certain things and at times it drives us all crazy.”

  “Like religion.”

  “Yeah.” She reached for the dish towel and wadded it into a ball. She squeezed it. She wondered about Rico and she wanted to ask, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Can... Can I ask you a personal ques
tion?”

  “Sure,” he replied, and there was a crooked grin on his face that she didn’t understand.

  “You said your great-grandmother raised you. Did she ever take you to church?”

  The grin broadened. “Are you asking if I’m an atheist?”

  “Well...” She tilted her head, searching for an answer but one wasn’t there. “I guess... And it doesn’t matter. I would just like to know.”

  “With your family’s history of Catholicism, I think it would matter a great deal.”

  She placed the dish towel on the counter and took a deep breath. “So you have no religion?”

  He straightened from the counter. “You have to wait for this one. I mean really wait.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My great-grandmother was a devout Catholic. Her name was Mary and she took me to church every Sunday morning. We took the bus. Sometimes if my grandmother had enough money, we would stop at this little bakery not far from the bus stop and she would buy me macaroon cookies. She knew I loved them. But I couldn’t eat them until after lunch. That’s one of the good memories.”

  “Your grandmother was Catholic.” She could barely get the words out of her mouth. She waited a moment and then asked, “Are you Catholic, too? And don’t make me wait for the answer.”

  He came toward her and backed her against the counter, one hand on each side of her. “I was baptized and confirmed into the Catholic Church. Now, doesn’t that make me more appealing?”

  “No. That will never change whether you go to church or not.”

  He pushed away from her, the scar on his face pronounced. “It was hard to keep that faith when the gang members held my grandmother’s arms behind her back and Santi threatened to cut her throat if I didn’t do what he wanted. I knew he was heartless and he would do it in front of me so I did his dirty work. We had no one and my grandmother never did anything but good in her life. She didn’t deserve that and she didn’t deserve to see me go to prison. She...” He walked around the counter and out the front door.

  Dusty jumped up. “Where Rico going?”

  “He’ll be back in a minute,” she answered, and realized she was shaking. She took a deep breath and wished she’d never brought up the subject of religion. It proved to be a hot topic for Rico and she understood that completely.

  “I wanna go with Rico.” Dusty ran to the door, but Anamarie caught him before he could open it.

  “We have to wait for Rico. Let’s read a book or something.” They knelt at the toy box and Dusty started pulling out stuff and found a remote control truck.

  “Look, Ana.” He held up the truck and pushed the remote control and the truck flew across the room.

  “Wow!” Dusty shouted, and continued to push the button as the truck darted from room to room. Mickey chased it, barking.

  Ana looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, “Thank you.” Dusty was occupied and now she could concentrate on Rico. Sitting on the sofa, she looked out the window toward the barn, hoping to see him strolling toward the house. An hour later she was still watching.

  Dusty fell asleep on the floor, pushing the button on the remote control. Lifting him into her arms, she took one last look out the window and then carried Dusty to his bed for a nap. She went back to the window and waited. And waited.

  Where was Rico?

  As the thought left her mind, she saw him walking from the barn, his head bent. He’d forgotten his hat. His long hair was tied, as usual, at his neck. He didn’t seem angry anymore. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans.

  Rico came in and sat in his recliner, his forearms on his thighs and his hands clasped between his knees.

  “I’m sorry I brought up religion. I didn’t know.” She sat on the sofa as close to him as possible.

  “It’s okay,” he replied, tightening his clasped hands. “Like I told you most of the time my past is in my peripheral vision, but when I was talking about my grandma it was right there in front of my face. I could see the fear in her eyes and the evil on Santi’s face, and as always I’m powerless to change it or do anything about it.”

  She wanted to ask a question, but she didn’t want to upset him any more than he was. Swallowing back all her doubts, she asked, “What happened to your grandmother?”

  Rico kept staring at his hands. “She continued to live in the apartment. Santi paid me one last visit in the jail. He said if I squealed on him, my grandmother was a dead woman, so I kept my mouth shut.”

  He took a breath and she waited for him to continue.

  “When I was released from prison, Egan asked me where I wanted to go and I said to see my grandma. After I was arrested, my grandmother’s younger sister moved into the apartment with her and they took care of each other. I was happy about that. About a year before I was released my grandma fell and broke her hip. My aunt couldn’t take care of her anymore so she had to put her in a home. That made me angry and sad. I needed to be there for her, but I was locked away for a very long time.”

  His hands tightened until his knuckles turned white. “When I was released, she was very old and frail, but she was still alive. The doctor said she told him she wasn’t dying until she saw her great-grandson. When I walked into that room, she started to cry. I cried. Egan cried. It was very emotional for all of us. I held her hand during the night and we talked about the past and the present. She told me I had my freedom now and I had to thank Kate Rebel for what she’d done for me. I had a chance for a new life and she said she knew I would turn out to be the fine young man I was meant to be. She died holding on to my hand.”

  She slid onto the arm of the chair and wrapped her arm around his neck. “Rico. I’m so sorry.”

  As if she hadn’t spoken, he added, “I had no money to pay for her burial. The lady at the home said the county would bury her in a pine box in a county cemetery. That hurt more than all the pain I’ve been through. Suddenly Egan was there. I thought he’d gone home, but he was still in Houston. He told me the funeral had been taken care of. He handed me a card with the funeral home’s name on it. Miss Kate paid for my grandmother’s funeral. I was speechless. I’d never met people like that before and I kept wondering what they were going to expect from me in return. Those first few weeks I was very cautious, but I soon learned that there are really good people in this world.”

  That’s why he worked so hard. Everything he did he did for the Rebels. She kissed his brow. “Miss Kate is a cut above the rest.”

  “I tried to pay her back over the years, but she either leaves the room or walks away from me. I just make sure if Miss Kate needs anything that I’m there.”

  “Do you have any memories of your grandmother or your mother?”

  “Sometimes I hear this lullaby in my head and I know it’s my mother. I think she tried to be a good mother, but the drugs had taken over her life.”

  “And your grandmother?”

  “She died before I was born. My grandfather died in a work-related accident and my grandmother received a large sum of money. She bought a big house in Austin and moved there with my mother to start a new life. My great-grandmother didn’t drive and had to take the bus to see them.”

  He leaned his head against her arm. “My grandmother met a man who went through her money quickly. She was left penniless with a teenage daughter. To get her daughter straightened out my great-grandmother went to Austin and stayed with them for a while. My grandmother found a job at a large insurance company and was soon promoted. One night she was working late and had to walk to her car in the dark. She was mugged. A man tried to take her purse and she fought him. She fought for her life and lost. He stabbed her and she died in the parking lot.”

  He drew a deep breath. “My mother was sixteen at the time and when she heard the news, my great-grandmother said she fell apart and had to be hospitalized. My great-grandmother went to Austin t
o be with her and to bring her back to Houston. She planned to raise my mother, but my mother didn’t like Houston. It was too boring and my great-grandmother was too strict. She ran away and the cops brought her back. She ran away again and the cops brought her back. The third time the cops couldn’t find her and my great-grandmother never saw her again.”

  He paused for a moment. “My mother called when she discovered she was pregnant and asked for money. My great-grandmother sent her a hundred dollars and a bus ticket to Houston. She didn’t come. She called when I was born and told my great-grandmother she’d had a boy and she wanted to come home. My great-grandmother sent her another hundred dollars and a bus ticket, but my mother never came.”

  He swallowed hard. “The next call she got was from the police to inform her of my mother’s death from a drug overdose. She asked about me and they told her I was put into foster care. She immediately contacted CPS. When she came to the foster home to get me, I saw this little old lady with white hair and I thought she was an angel. And she was. She saved my life by getting me out of that home with eight kids. No one got any attention. But with my great-grandmother I got hugs and kisses and I knew I was loved. That means everything to a kid.”

  Now she knew why he connected with Dusty. Almost the same backstory. Almost identical. Rico had to see a lot of himself in Dusty and he would do everything he could to make him happy until Darlene could come get him. But would their hearts ever be the same?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MICKEY BARKED, SIGNALING that the little guy was awake. Ana went to get him and Rico took a moment to catch his breath. He’d never talked so much in his whole life, but it was easy with her. She listened with an open heart.

  The moment Dusty saw Rico he held out his arms for him. “Mickey woke me up,” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

 

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