After All These Years (2 page)

Leon, Mexico

 

The bus rolled along a cobblestone road toward the outskirts of the city, its motion stirring the summer dust and heat through the open windows. Distant dry hills shimmered under intense sunshine.

Two women sat side by side. Though not of the same generation, they mirrored one another. Their eyes were wide set and the color of deep caramel that foretold of brilliant flecks on a different day. But not today. Today an identical vertical crease separated the brows of each.

Both women were small, though the older one was rounder. She wore her silver-streaked black hair in a single thick braid down her back. Her blouse and skirt were bright floral prints, a rainbow of colors. The lines in her face spoke of hard work, her hunched shoulders of strength. The relaxed pose of her mouth exuded a contrary peace. A large mesh shopping bag engulfed her lap.

The younger woman was also of Mexican heritage, but there was an air of otherworldliness about her. Perhaps it was in the angle of the jeans-covered leg and the sandaled
foot that stretched across the aisle, blocking it. Or in the jaunty hang of the backpack slung over a slouched shoulder. Or in the cut of her layered shoulder-length hair with its copper highlights.

Her face, however, was different. The Americanism was fading from her face.

“
Abuela
,” the younger woman said, addressing the mature one as grandmother and continuing in Spanish, “I'm not going back. May I live with you?”

The older woman silently studied her granddaughter for several moments. The only indication that she heard the question was a slight tilting of her head. “Of course. But what about your studies?”

The young woman didn't reply.

“How long will you stay?”

“Until…” She pulled in her foot and shrugged the backpack onto her lap. “Until I want to breathe again.”

Evanston, Illinois

 

“What about college?” The tall man slouched over the table in the updated suburban kitchen. A weariness was etched in his eyes.

At the counter a young woman spooned tea into a silver infuser, set it in a pot, and then poured steaming water over the leaves. Each motion was efficiently executed, wasting no energy. “I've changed majors.”

“Past tense?”

Her black ponytail swished at her waist as she carried the teapot over to the table and set it beside two porcelain cups. “Past tense. It's done.” She kissed the top of the man's head
and sat down across from him, tucking her long skirt beneath her. “Dad, don't worry.”

He opened his mouth as if to offer a customary retort and then closed it. Retorts were for another day. But not today. Today his navy blue cardigan hung haphazardly, his blond hair hung unbrushed down the nape of his neck, a book lay beside him unopened. Everything about him represented all that was not customary on this day.

His daughter reached over and squeezed his hand. Like him, she had a determined chin, a small nose, and high cheekbones. Also like him, she was taller than average, though not lanky. Unlike him, her eyes were black and slightly almond in shape with long black lashes, a reflection of her mother's heritage. “Dad, the path is clear, and it's full of good works already prepared for me to do.”

“You're too young to know any better. How will you live? How will you make ends meet? For goodness' sake, how will you survive the
emotional
work of two?”

She chuckled and pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. The distinctively unconstrained response diminished the hints of Asian femininity. “You of all people know that I'm not in this alone.”

“But how—
how
can you give up your dreams?”

She squinted momentarily, as if a bandage were being ripped from a wound. Then her features fell again into their tranquil lines, though now there was a hint of resolve in the set of her jaw. “I didn't. They were just replaced, changed by Someone who knows better. It will work, Dad. It will work.”

Seven years later

Valley Oaks, Illinois

 

“She's a gift.” Gina Philips nuzzled the two-month-old bundle of tawny fur. “From me and Brady.”

Isabel Mendoza laughed as the kitten batted a paw at Gina's white lab coat. “She's adorable! But why would you give me a gift?”

“Because,” the vet's voice softened and her deep green eyes glistened, “you have a new emptiness in your heart right now. She'll help soften the pain. Here, take her. Snuggle a bit.”

Isabel accepted the little animal, who promptly curled against her neck, just above her heart. She blinked away her own unshed tears and waited for the tightening of her throat to ease. “Aww. But I can't afford—”

“I said gift. Entire kit and caboodle sort of gift.” She knelt behind the receptionist's counter, straightened, and set down a yellow plastic pan overflowing with bags of litter and kitten food. “This is for you. We'll make an appointment later for spaying and shots.”

“Gina, thank you, but I can't let you pay for—”

“Sure you can. Do you know how many books Brady sold this year? And the corn and bean market forecast is excellent.”

Isabel smiled at her new friend. The California native had lived in Illinois for less than three months and already knew all about crops and Brady Olafsson's personal business. Isabel
teased, “Not to mention, Dr. Philips, that you're a millionaire.” Gina had recently won a lawsuit against a wildlife preserve. The preserve's negligence in animal care contributed to Gina being attacked by an elephant, a situation which caused permanent injury to one of her legs. Though the lawsuit was not something Gina had wanted to pursue, her legal actions guaranteed that the elephants would receive better care.

Gina laughed. “I think all of Valley Oaks is waiting with bated breath. When and if a settlement check arrives, I'm going to post a message on that big board outside the Community Center so everyone will know immediately.”

“Don't you think news can spread faster by word of mouth?”

“A few months ago I would have said no way. Now I know better! Seriously, Isabel, this kitty won't cost much. I'll do the work myself, and Dr. Swanson doesn't mind if I use his facilities here.”

Isabel stroked the cat's silky fur with her thumb. A mild purring sputtered like the kick start of some minuscule motorcycle. She sighed. What was it that people said about being single and owning a cat? Something disparaging. But…this warmth against her skin felt comforting in the air-conditioned vet's office. A distinct sense of coziness enveloped her, planting images of family gatherings, sounds of laughter, scents of frying tortillas and spicy— “Cumin. No, that won't work. Nutmeg! She looks like nutmeg, don't you think?”

Gina smiled. “Her coloring reminded me of your eyes. Nutmeg is a perfect name.”

“All right, Nutmeg it is. Thank you, Gina. And thank Brady for me, too.”

“You're welcome, from both of us.”

Isabel took hold of Gina's left hand and made a show of inspecting her third finger. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

Gina yanked her hand back. “You know you would have heard, even in Mexico.”

Isabel laughed. “So, what have you been up to besides falling more and more in love?”

Gina rolled her eyes as a rosy blush spread across her face to the roots of her dark brown hair. “Well, I've been digging my heels in here at work and at Aunt Lottie's. I convinced her to have air-conditioning installed. And Brady just got back from a two-week signing tour.”

“Ouch. How did the first separation go?”

She grinned. “Big phone bills. Really big. We decided the heart does not grow fonder, it just aches a whole lot. Oh, there's a Chicago reporter coming today to interview him for some special article. Brady says it's no big deal, but I think it's rather exciting.”

“That's Brady, downplaying the attention. What's the article about?”

“Something about well-known Christian personalities for one of those Sunday supplement magazines. The guy's meeting me here so I can show him the way out to Brady's place.”

“Your more-than-likely fiancé is going to put Valley Oaks on the map yet.”

The blush returned. “Isabel! We hardly know each other.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, how are your parents doing?” Isabel had met Maggie and Reece Philips two months ago when they were in town for a family wedding.

“Making progress. Mother keeps saying Dad's a new man. Neither of us can believe he's taking an entire month off work, but they're scheduled to leave for Venice next Tuesday. He even promised to leave his cell phone at home. To tell you the truth, I think Mother's still skeptical.”

“It's difficult to accept that someone can change so dramatically.”

“You're right. But he keeps sending her flowers, and he's home for dinner five nights a week rather than five times a month. They've hit art galleries every weekend. Still, she hasn't begun to pack yet. Brady thinks it will just take time for her trust to build, but anything's possible with Jesus.”

“Amen to that. Well, Nutmeg.” The kitten lifted its tiny head. “Let's go home.”

The bell above the front door jangled, and a man walked inside. He eyed Gina behind the counter. “I'm looking for Gina Philips.”

“Hi. I'm…”

Their voices drowned in a rushing noise that suddenly filled Isabel. The room slipped out of focus. It was as if the air itself evaporated, leaving a vacuum where there should have been oxygen to breathe.
Tony?

The magnetism still radiated from him, the energy palpable even before he spoke a word. Even before he turned those piercing deep-set eyes toward her.

“
Izzy?
Izzy Mendez!”

Mendoza
, she corrected silently. “Tony.”

He flung his arms around her, giving her and the kitten a friendly hug.

Gina asked, “Izzy? I haven't heard you called that.”

He kept an arm around her shoulders. “She only lets
extremely
close friends call her that.” He peered down at her and winked. “And
we
were extremely close friends, weren't we?”

He wasn't teasing. Though she could tell she was familiar to him, he didn't remember her. She saw it in the tilt of his head, in the cocky grin that scrunched his left cheek alongside the narrow aristocratic nose. Isabel turned toward Gina. “College nickname. Seven years ago.”

He dropped his arm. “Right. English lit.”

Try journalism
. She changed the subject. “So you're a big-time reporter now?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “
Chicago Tribune
. What are you doing?”

“I'm a small-time radio announcer for a local station.”

“That's fitting. You always were quite the talker.”

She gave him a tight smile. He had remembered one fact correctly. One out of three was par for Tony. He still looked good, even in crumpled khakis and a pale yellow short-sleeved knit shirt. In shape. His coffee brown hair cut in a professional style.

“How'd you end up here?” he asked.

I'm from Rockville! Just down the road! Remember?
This conversation was becoming an inane guessing game on his part. “Hey, I've got to get this kitty home. And Gina's been ready to close up shop here for a while.”

“Isabel,” Gina said, “why don't you have dinner with us since you two know each other? Brady's cooking.”

“Thanks, but I haven't unpacked yet from my trip, and I'm scheduled for the early shift tomorrow.”

“All right. Here, put Nutmeg in this box. You don't want her underfoot on the drive home.”

“Thanks.” She grasped the box under one arm, the pan of litter and food in the other. “Nice seeing you, Tony.”

“You too, Izzy. Take care.” He held the door open for her.

She bumped into the jamb trying to fit through.

“Need some help?” He grinned.

“No. Thanks!” She made her clumsy way outside and across the parking lot. Even after the door finally clicked shut she felt his eyes on her, studying. They were blue, the bright blue of the Mexican sky. Hidden behind them was a razor-sharp mind that too often sidetracked itself with rabbit trails.

But he would remember. Eventually he would remember, and that would be worse than him not remembering.