California Sunrise (28 page)

He patted her shoulder and left, knowing he was deserting her at a time she needed him but hoping she would understand. He needed to do something—anything—to keep from letting this new disaster pull him down into a hole so deep, there was no ladder long enough to get him out.

He revved his Jetta and wove through the lanes of the parking lot, craving the adrenaline of speed, but restraining himself in an area teaming with cop cars.

Driving northwest, he headed to a spot he hadn’t gone to in years, not since his days at the university, before working with a therapist had finally lifted the worst of the depression he’d fought since his parents had been deported. Pounding the trail by the crashing waves had allowed him to exorcise the ghosts of the past and create a positive flow for the future.

He hoped it still worked.

He parked at the far end of the trail, not too far from the surfer statue. The cries of seagulls, barking of seals, and chatter of tourists enjoying the last bit of warmth before the winter rains drifted up the cliff wall surrounded him. Seagulls screeched overhead.

He tied on his running shoes and took off, the ocean to his left, the strange mixture of modest homes and yuppie architecture on his right.

It was all a blur.

He ran.

After the first mile his knees and shins began to ache, reminding him he was in his body. He, at least, was still alive.

And he’d had a chance to know Juan—more than he’d ever hoped to have.

The tears he’d suppressed began to trickle down his face. He ignored them, as he ignored the odd looks from people strolling, running, or biking in the opposite direction.

The eucalyptus trees, with their musty smell, gave him a temporary break from the sun. He barely noticed a car covered with shells, odd statues, and signs.

Why did people waste time with things like that when there was so much to do? There was a world that needed saving, people who were hurting. He needed to do more.

His breath came harder as his shoes slapped the pavement, a sound barely heard over the crashing of the waves.

He ran until exhausted, then took a few moments to stretch against the metal bars that lined the trail, staring out across the bay. People walked by him, discussing their ordinary lives, and some of the ever-present dogs sniffed at his heels before moving on.

His breath settled, and he knew he’d make it through the day. But how to go on from there?

The only solace was action. Less than a month remained before the election, and there was work to be done. He’d call Peter when he got home and do whatever was necessary to convince people it was a bad law. He’d increase his hours at the clinic.

What about his promise to Alicia? Did talking to his enemy make any sense at all now that his brother was dead?

Despair tugged at him, and he longed to scream obscenities at the top of his lungs, but there was no sense to that.

How had Joe Wilson felt after his son had died, perhaps needlessly? Losing a brother he barely knew was difficult enough. What would it be like to lose a child?

Much as he hated the idea, he knew the gesture of reconciliation must be made. If he did that, he would show Alicia that he was serious about building their relationship, no matter what problems, disagreements, or joy lay ahead of them.

• • •

Alicia opened the envelope with trembling hands and scanned the contents of the official document. When she reached the word “denied,” she sank into the kitchen chair, tears of relief falling down her face. Luis was safe.

Since Eduardo hadn’t applied for visitation rights, the judge hadn’t ruled on them. Would he ask for them now?

Probably not. Eduardo was an all-or-nothing kind of guy.

She threw the letter on the table, pulled Luis from his playpen, and held him close. Impatient with the quick change, he stiffened and shrieked.

“It’s okay, little one,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters. We can handle anything else.”

Raúl should know, but Saturdays were his time with the activists, and she had the afternoon shift at the spa. Maybe tonight? Her mother had come to Watsonville the night before; maybe she would sit so Alicia could surprise him.

She missed him. While he’d kept in contact with her through texts and a brief phone call, she knew he was still hurting from Juan’s death. She wished she could help him, but he’d told her there were things he had to do himself.

Luis squirmed again, and she put him back in his playpen.

“Good news?”
Abuela
came into the kitchen, her steps a little slower than they had been.

She’s getting old.
The realization saddened her. Life was full of joy and sorrow.

“
Te quiero, Abuela
.”

“
Sí.
” A smile brightened her grandmother’s face. “I love you, too, Alicia.” She pointed at the paper on the table. “From the court?”

“Yes. They denied Eduardo any kind of custody.”

“Good. Maybe he will return to Los Banos where he belongs.”

“I hope so.” She slipped the letter into her purse hanging on the back of a chair.

Her grandmother opened the refrigerator. “We need milk.”

“I’ll go to the market. It’s a nice day. I’ll walk.” Relief lightened the tension in her shoulders. “I’ll take Luis in his stroller.” She knelt by his playpen. “Are you ready to go outside, little one? Maybe see some birds?”

“Bir!” His dark brown eyes glowed with excitement.

She picked him up again, thankful he didn’t resist.

The day was gloriously blue, with the fog far out to sea. She lifted her face to the sun and whispered a silent prayer of thankfulness to God. She was going to make it.

“Alicia, wait up.” The screen door squeaked behind her mother. “I need a few things, too. And it is a marvelous day!”

She watched her mother come down the steps. While their relationship still had moments of awkwardness, she was glad she’d made her peace. Releasing her anger had given her the freedom to move forward in her own life.

Now if she could only be confident of what that direction should be.

“Yes,” Alicia agreed, “it’s a great day to be on the shore, not stuck in the heat of the San Joaquin Valley.”

“True.” The clicking of her mother’s heels accompanied the skittering sound of the stroller’s wheels. “It might be time to abandon the Valley altogether.”

“Are you going to do it? Leave Los Banos?” While her mother had hinted she might move to the coast, she hadn’t made a firm commitment.

“I’d like to be closer to you and Luis—and my mother. She’s not going to be able to handle him alone much longer.”

“I know.”

They were silent as they approached the small market. After they’d crossed the final street, she heard footsteps behind her. A chill crawled up her skin, in spite of the windless day.

Someone grabbed her arm.

“I want my son.”

Eduardo.

She shook him off and turned. Graciela stood to his right, her fisted hands on her hips.

“I got the judge’s order today,” she said, aware that her mother had moved to flank Luis’s other side. “You lost. Go back to the Valley where you belong. And take your
fiancée
”—she made a mockery of the word as she said it—“with you.”

“I’m not leaving without my son. I don’t care what any judge says.”

“You are leaving right now, or I will call the cops.” Her mother had her cell phone out.

“It’s none of your business, lady.”

“He’s my grandson.”

“You’re going to make a big mistake if you use that phone.” Eduardo took a step toward her mother.

“Don’t you touch her!” Alicia gripped her purse, heavy with a sociology book she’d been reading, and squared her shoulders.

“I’m taking my son.” Eduardo made a move toward Luis.

“Leave him alone!” she screamed and swung her purse.

“Ouch! You bitch!”

Luis began to shriek. Over and over.

People gathered around them.

“Make him stop doing that, or I will!” Eduardo’s voice darkened.

“He’s scared. The only time he’ll stop is when he’s good and ready.” She prayed he’d keep going until Eduardo decided he’d had enough.

“That’s ’cause you’ve spoiled him,” Graciela said.

“You know that’s not true.” Alicia tried to step between Eduardo and Luis, but Eduardo pushed her away.

“I’m taking him. I’ll teach him to be a man—something you and that lame doctor won’t be able to do.”

Luis kept shrieking.

“Stop it!” Eduardo yelled at him. He pulled back his arm, his palm open, shifting his weight to his back leg.

Her mother grabbed one of the stroller’s handles for balance, hooked her foot around Eduardo’s front ankle, and jerked backward.

His arms pinwheeled, but he couldn’t keep his balance and fell against Graciela. She went down to the ground, and he landed on her.

“What’s going on here?”

Alicia was never so thankful to see a cop in her life. “He’s trying to take my son.”

Eduardo struggled to his feet. “He’s my son.”

The officer looked at her. “Is that true?”

“That man,” she pointed to Eduardo, “is the biological father of my son.” Luis’s shrieking stopped. She glanced over to see her mother quietly talking to him, one hand on his small arm. Turning back to the officer, she said, “We went to court. Eduardo applied for custody, but the judge didn’t give it to him.” She dug through her purse. “Here.”

The officer scanned the paper. “You’re Eduardo Vasquez?”

“Yes.”

“You live in Watsonville?”

“Los Banos.”

“Do you want to press charges?” the office asked Alicia.

Her mother was still engaged with Luis, so there was no advice coming from that source. Pressing charges might make things worse, increasing Eduardo’s anger and making him lose face. Tempting as it was, she didn’t want to put Luis’s father in jail. He’d probably get there on his own, anyway.

“Not now,” she replied, “thank you.”

Graciela struggled to her feet. The officer gave her a hand. “And you are?”

“His girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. Not fiancée. It must have been an act for the judge.

“And where do you live?”

“Watsonville.”

The officer made a few notes on a smartphone, then tapped some other keys. “You’re lucky. No outstanding warrants.” He slid the device back into its holder. “Just the same, I think it’s time for you to return to Los Banos,” he said to Eduardo. “If you bother this young lady and her child again, I’ll arrest you. Understood?”

Eduardo glared at Alicia and the cop, but seemed to think better of protesting.

“
Sí
.” He took one more look at Luis, then stalked off in the opposite direction from the market, Graciela trailing behind.

Despite her anger and fear, Alicia was saddened by the whole mess. She’d loved him once, the way only a first love can be—an odd combination of innocence and lust. But he hadn’t been the man she’d believed he was.

Not the kind of man she wanted Luis to grow up to become.

“Thank you,” she said to the cop.

“Be careful. He doesn’t look like someone you want to tangle with.”

“I’ll be careful.” She smiled at her mother. “Shall we get our things?”

Her mother stood. “Sure.”

She grabbed the stroller handles and walked toward the market without a glance at the past behind her.

After her shift, Alicia drove up to Grenaldi’s Market and picked up fresh cauliflower, small red potatoes, and a piece of salmon. She tossed in a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream for good measure.

The sun lowered itself into the western sky. Days were getting shorter, the last rays of secret summer ebbing away. A feeling of contentment washed over her. Winter might be coming, but spring had taken root in her soul. She and her mother were back on good terms, the threat to Luis was diminished, and she had a future ahead of her—one that included the possibility of a four-year degree.

Now all she had to do was figure out if there was any possibility of a relationship with Raúl.

His car was in the condo’s driveway. She pulled the tote from her car and walked to the door, nervousness slowing her steps.

After Raúl opened the door, he stood there, surprise, pleasure, and caution etched on his face. “I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I have things to tell you.”

He grabbed her tote and took her hand. “Anything perishable?”

“All of it.”
Including our relationship if we can’t figure out how to be on the opposite sides of an issue.

He placed the entire bag in the refrigerator.

“Uh … ice cream.”

“
Sí. Sí.”
He tossed the carton in the freezer. “Let’s go into the living room.”

“First, tell me, are you registered for classes?” He gestured for her to take the seat next to him on the couch.

She chose the armchair instead. “Yes. In fact, I’ve started them already. Two more classes for a sociology degree, and an English composition class.”

“No business?”

“No.”

“Then you’ve made a choice.”

“
Sí
,” she said, wondering how many more delaying tactics would be needed before they got to the heart of their disagreement.

She looked at him but didn’t say anything, waiting.

“I’ve thought a lot about what you said, about seeing both sides of the issue.” He paused. “After Juan … died, I didn’t think I could go through with it. Men like Joe Wilson were the ones who wanted all immigrants to go home.”

Her spirits dropped.

“I prayed very hard for wisdom.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I needed to know the right thing to do—for you and for our people. One night, as I was watching a news program, I realized that all people were doing was shouting at each other. No one was listening.”

Maybe …?

“I decided the first person I need to listen to is myself.” He leaned forward. “I haven’t changed my stance, Alicia. I think Wilson’s law is a bad one. I need you to understand that.”

Did she need him to agree with her? Would she want him—or any man—to try to force her to agree with him?

She nodded, unsure of the right words to say.