Echoes (20 page)
She thought of Rico with his Jack Sparrow looks, long beaded hair, and quick, nervous hands. Talented. Loyal. Hot-tempered. After Star had betrayed him, he said, "There's no place for you here, chiquita." And Star-like, she'd gone off to hurt herself.
Now they seemed to be caught in a tentative dance of reconciliation. The painting she'd sent incorporating the elements of Rico's life and their time together; his words over the music they'd made. Neither saying too much, only a current between them like the steel-drum vibrations, and in Star's face the fragile stirring of hope.
"Resolution, absolution, revelation, consolation . . ."
M
att looked up when Cassinia walked into his office with something more than her usual verve. "What'd I do?"
"She's here."
"Who's where?"
"Maria's mother. Your man Lance just called."
"My man?" He sat back in his chair, wondering why he was getting the brunt of her mood.
"The miracle worker."
"Yeah, I heard that too. Don't put much stock in it."
"Maria does. First her baby, then her. Now he's picked her mother up from the airport and they're driving in."
"He didn't pull her out of a hat. She has a travel visa."
"He wants us to meet them at the house. Maybe you can explain how he got control of both cases?"
"They were helping Maria before we got involved. She trusts him."
"She reveres him."
"After what she's been through, that's not all bad. At least she can differentiate." Which was more than Cassinia did some days.
He'd been all over the board on his opinion of Lance Michelli, but the whole thing was muddied by his feelings for Sofie—something, thankfully, Cassinia knew nothing about. In the days since their date, he'd tried not to think of her, checking in with Lance by phone a couple times for updates on Diego. According to him, mother and son were thriving.
Cassinia scowled. "I still say she and the baby should not have been reunited until we knew everything."
"You got the eval." And because it affected his recommendations for Diego, so had he. Maria was springing back extraordinarily well, grieving the hysterectomy and clinging to the son she'd borne. She expressed anger toward those who had victimized her, along with a deep desire to go home. If she also clung to her belief in Lance Michelli, who could blame her? "They've had care and shelter there that we'd have struggled to provide."
Cassinia frowned. "And brainwashing. How can people believe that rot? Heaven, hell, and miracles. Fables and fairy tales are harmful when fanatics take them as truth."
Except for her tone, those could have been his words. The ambivalence he felt now surprised him. He just wanted the case closed. He'd recommended the judge sign off on Diego's custodial release. Maria would either return to her mother's care or be emancipated and remain in the States with assistance until she got on her feet—
if
she got on her feet at sixteen with an infant and no family other than those "fanatics" at the villa.
He stood. "Shall we?"
"You're driving; I biked in." The air outside was heavy with mist, but neither rain, nor sleet, nor inclement weather could keep Cassinia from fuel-saving cycling. She wasn't averse to piggybacking, though, if he was already gas guzzling to a mutual destination.
They didn't speak on the way. Cassinia's demeanor in this case, as compared to others, suggested she felt threatened somehow. Things that didn't fit the life structure she'd erected annoyed and frustrated her, but this was the worst he'd seen her yet. She tried to disguise it, but the sooner this whole thing was behind them, the better.
Star answered the door in an embroidered skirt and peasant blouse. On her wrists and ankles dangled several dozen silver bracelets that jingled when she moved. "Lance isn't back yet with Señora Espinoza. Would you like a latte?"
Not when the word alone conjured his moments across the table from Sofie. "No thanks."
Cassinia gave Star a look that would have withered a true mortal. "I'd like to meet with Maria before her mother arrives."
No doubt to make certain the girl realized this could go either way. But why would Señora Espinoza travel into the States only to tell Maria she could not come home?
"I'll tell her." Star jingled up the stairs.
He waited in the parlor with his co-worker, trying not to wonder where Sofie was. He could complete this visit, even conclude the case, without seeing her. Best for both of them. She'd been essential to Diego's care until Maria returned. Then she'd stepped aside with a willingness that surprised him, given her history of attaching to other people's kids. He shook his head.
Within moments Maria came down alone, concern all over her face. "What is the matter?"
Cassinia cocked her head. "Why do you think something's wrong?"
"My mother is not here yet. But you want to see me?" She reached the bottom of the stairs and stood pretty much eye-to-eye with Cassinia.
"I'm not your enemy, Maria. I'm your advocate. I'm thinking of what's best for you and making sure no one is coercing you. Do you understand coerce?"
Maria nodded. "Forcing me." Her voice broke. "But that was before." Anger filled her eyes. "They will be punished. No one here has done so."
"I don't mean the way you were before. Come and sit." Cassinia took one of the chairs in the parlor, Maria another. She might be harsh in her discussions about this case, but she handled Maria with care and respect, even while questioning her fifteen different ways as to who might be pressuring her to keep the baby or to go back to her mother. Maria's response never varied.
"No one is coercing me. I want my baby, and I want to go home."
The door opened and Lance came in with a stately middle-aged Mexican woman.
Maria jumped to her feet.
"¡Mamá!"
Mrs. Espinoza opened her arms with a cry, and they embraced for a long time, Maria shedding more tears than he'd seen yet.
"Lo siento, Mamá. Lo siento."
The woman cradled Maria's head, crying as well.
"Hija
querida."
After some minutes, they drew apart. "Where is my grandson?"
"He's here." Sofie spoke from the stairs.
Matt turned, his heart galloping at the sight of her. He couldn't believe the anger he'd felt when she had defended the man who had driven her to attempt suicide. Yet with every step she descended, he wanted to close the gap, pull her close. . . . He forced a flat expression. This was about Diego.
Sofie tucked the infant into Señora Espinoza's arms. The baby protested the shuffling with a squawk, then looked into his grandmother's face. Sofie stepped back, and Matt found that he had closed the gap. She smelled of baby powder and wishes and stood near enough to touch, but he didn't.
"Mamá"
—Maria hooked her finger into the baby's fist—"meet Diego Manuel."
Tears coursed down Señora Espinoza's cheeks. "A good name. For your
papá
, may he rest in peace. And where is the priest?"
"He should be here any minute." Lance looked out the front window as he answered.
"Good."
Matt shrugged when Cassinia met his gaze. Somehow the power had shifted to the elegant woman now holding the baby. "You are the godmother?" she asked Sofie.
Sofie declined her head. "I'm honored."
"And Lance." Maria beamed. "He is the godfather."
Matt almost snickered after what Sofie had told him. Godfather indeed.
"Mrs. Espinoza, I'm Cassinia Krantz. I'm the social worker in charge of Maria's case." She looked like a tough gray boxer minus the underbite.
"Whatever illegal things my half brother and his scum were involved in, Maria was not part of it."
"I mean I'm responsible for her welfare, for deciding—"
"
I
am responsible for her welfare."
"Here he is." Lance went to the door to let the priest in. More hocus-pocus. Cassinia looked as though she might spit nails.
Sofie backed up and bumped him with her elbow. She glanced over her shoulder. "Sorry."
He'd answer if he could push the air through his vocal cords.
As the portly priest came in, Cassinia slipped out the door. Matt had too many obstacles between himself and escape, primarily Sofie, whose presence worked in him once again like a drug. Star and Elaine came down, and Nonna joined them from the arched entrance to the dining room. In the press, he touched the tips of Sofie's soft golden-brown hair.
The ceremony was simple—a little water, a little oil, no levitation or tongues of flame. Lance didn't do anything but trace a cross on the infant a few times, so Matt guessed no miracles were on the docket today. Even so, for a baby who'd gone more than a week with no name, things seemed pretty settled by the time the priest packed up his gear.
Maria and her mother and the baby went upstairs. Star and Elaine and Nonna took the priest to the kitchen. Rese wasn't present—it was a work day, after all. And that left Matt alone with Sofie and Lance, and Lance didn't seem inclined to make it a twosome.
He hung his hands on his hips. "Señora Espinoza intends to take Maria home tomorrow. With Diego."
Matt reached into the folder under his arm and produced the judge's order.
Lance read it and smiled. "Thanks."
"It was in everyone's best interest." He and Cassinia had been no more than pawns in this whole business. But he'd take it in place of all the cases where no happy ending was possible. "What was all that with the baptism?"
"Señora Espinoza wasn't sure their parish would accept Diego under the circumstances."
That was the sort of narrow religion Matt knew too well.
"It was also her way of proving she does."
Matt probably imagined the smugness in Lance's smile. Weren't prophets above all that?
"We're putting together some lunch. Do you and"—Lance looked around—"Cassinia want to stay?"
"I guess not." It would take days to decompress her as it was. He couldn't tell if Sofie's expression indicated relief or resignation. But what difference did it make? She'd shown him the one thing he couldn't live with in a woman.
Lance held out his hand. "Thanks for overseeing things with Diego."
"Sure." They shook.
Lance looked from him to Sofie, then went down the hall to the kitchen. Alone with her, it was harder to uphold his convictions, especially when she looked as though she understood and didn't blame him for thinking less of her.
She raised her coppery green eyes. "I'm glad you were assigned his case, Matt. You handled it well."
He'd hardly done anything, and they both knew it. "You took good care of him."
"Babies are easy." She laid on the New York. "They don't argue."
He smiled. "Don't ask for the car keys . . ."
"Don't raid your closet . . ."
"Don't stay out late and forget to call . . ."
They laughed. Her teeth were white and smooth, her lips soft and full. She'd been brave and generous in caring for Diego, selfless in giving him up.
His heart pumped. "Sofie, would you want to see me again? Maybe a drive through wine country?"
"In February?"
"Every season has a purpose."
"Hmm." She folded her arms. "That's biblical."
"Ecclesiastes."
She raised her brows.
"Just because I don't subscribe doesn't mean I'm uninformed. My agnosticism is well grounded."
"I see." Her smile engulfed him. "A drive would be nice."
He was so gone. "I'll call you, then." Warmth infused him as he walked into the drizzly chill, where Cassinia looked as though she'd sucked a persimmon.
She pocketed her phone. "Kid en route to emergency. Five months old. Shaken."
His mood crashed. Why did his enlightened disbelief suddenly seem so useless?
————
Rese settled into a chair at the table. Michelle's Bible studies did not twist her mind as Lance's theological discussions tended to. Michelle's purpose and presentation were clear; the Scriptures she chose to "break open" supported her life's goal to feed the hungry and bind up the brokenhearted. In some ways that was as challenging as the esoteric ideas Lance wrestled with.
Rese shook her head, still wondering how she'd gotten there. Her life had been so insular, Mom's illness at first keeping people from making friends with them, then her own walls thickening with each passing year. The thought of Lance spending all that time improving others' living conditions, putting his life on the line in places like Kingston, of Michelle living in a warehouse of donations for the poor she visited daily, left her dazed.
But as out of place as she sometimes felt, it was nothing to having Star there. They'd all been attending Lance's church on Sundays, an ordeal in itself since there was no telling what Mom would say or do, though people seemed to accept her—amazingly. In a conscious effort to cement their friendship, Rese had asked Star to the Bible study at Michelle's church and hidden her surprise when she'd accepted. Michelle and the pastor's wife, Karen, had befriended her at once.
Michelle took up her Bible. "In John chapter twenty-one, Jesus asks Simon Peter, 'Do you truly love me more than these?' Peter answered, 'Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.'
"Jesus told Peter to feed His lambs."
Michelle cleared her throat before going on. "Then Jesus asked Peter the same thing a second time, saying, 'Do you truly love me?' Peter said yes. Jesus told him to take care of His sheep."
"So you see," she said, looking at each of them. "Jesus wanted to know one thing from Peter and one thing only. Was he willing to look after the flock? To meet the needs of the poor who would always be with them? That's what loving Jesus means."
Star's eyes were bright. "They do not love that do not share their love."
Karen and Michelle responded immediately, and the discussion turned to whether love existed at all if it did not result in action. Rese sat back and listened, thinking of the myriad ways people in her life made small acts of love every day. Lance had brought Elaine into the kitchen with Nonna and him and put in an opera CD as he began the dinner preparation so that she and Star could sneak out to the church. Even something so ordinary was love. If it was also faith, how could some people not want that?
