Lone Star Legend (28 page)

“Tío Jaime, I’m here.”

Seeing her, he hung up the phone. “Oh. There you are.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking the chair beside his bed and setting the candies beside the phone, on his nightstand.

“Oh, nothing.” His voice was falsely casual. She recognized in it the tone of voice she used when she was trying to keep the
truth from her mother. “I just called to see how you were doing. And to tell you that I might be going away.”

“What?” Sandy looked into the old man’s eyes to try to gauge the seriousness of his remark.

The evening sunlight coming through the window made a square of yellow around his head and torso, like a rustic halo. He sat
there grimacing, looking like a medieval saint in his pale gown and tangled sheets. “Yeah. My damn nephew, Richard, has been
nagging me to move to California with him. He wants me to stay with him or with my little sister, his mother. He says something
about how having me in their household will be easier for the bills or the taxes or some such thing.”

“But you don’t want to move, do you? You don’t want to leave your house. And your goats. And… your life!” Sandy knew he didn’t.
She could hear the reluctance in his voice.

“Not really, no. I wish I didn’t have to. But I might have to, it looks like. I can’t keep asking Richard to pay for all my
bills here.”

Sandy could tell that he was upset and embarrassed to be explaining this to her. But she wasn’t worried about that. Her number-one
concern right now was that he was being forced to leave against his will.

The sound of footsteps in the hall—loud steps caused by dress shoes, not squeaky nurse shoes—startled Sandy. Then a man’s
hand curled around the door, and she knew there was only one person it could be. She briefly considered hiding—ducking under
Tío Jaime’s hospital bed. But it was too late. He was in the room now, and he was looking right at her. She sat up straight
and faced him defiantly.

Tío Jaime took the water glass from his bedside table and calmly sipped at it. He looked completely unperturbed, but Sandy
knew he must have been holding his breath, waiting for his nephew’s reaction to her presence.

“You again,” was all he said. Nothing more.

He was cradling a basket of fruit in one arm. Somehow that made him look less wrathful than he had before, and Sandy felt
herself relax a little. “Me again. I’m… Your uncle asked me to visit.”

“I figured he would.” Richard stood there looking at the wall. He looked tired, she noticed. Stressed. But apparently he had
resigned himself to her existence in his uncle’s life.

“That’s right. I asked her to visit,” said Tío Jaime. “How’s Cano doing?”

“He’s fine,” Richard replied. Then he turned to Sandy. “Ms. Saavedra, may I have a word with you, in private?”

“No,” said his uncle. “Don’t talk about me behind my back. Whatever you want to say to my friend you’d better say right here
in front of me.”

Sandy had to hold back a giggle at the look of frustration on Richard’s face. It was obviously warring with the respect he
had for the older man. Tío Jaime, on the other hand, had his chin thrust out stubbornly, like a child’s.

Richard took a deep breath and tried again to get his point across. “Ms. Saavedra, as I told you before, my uncle isn’t well.
He doesn’t need any more stress in his life right now, or any kind of extra excitement. Please respect that and leave him
alone.”

Sandy went on the offensive. “You made me think Tío Jaime had a heart attack or something. You made me worry that I had done
something to bring it on. But I didn’t. And no one told me that he shouldn’t be eating sugar! I never would have brought him
cookies if I had known!”

“You brought him cookies?” Richard practically bellowed. “Why did you bring him cookies? Was that your bribe to get him to
do your videos?”

“No!” said Sandy and Tío Jaime, simultaneously. “She brought me cookies because I like them,” the old man added. “And because
we’re friends. Besides, I can eat sugar if I want to. I can control it.”

“Obviously, you can’t!” cried Richard and Sandy together this time, both pointing at his foot in its cast.

Tío Jaime looked down in chagrin. Richard glared at him accusingly. But Sandy had to laugh. It was finally too much for her.
She laughed and the others turned to look at her in astonishment. Then Tío Jaime laughed, and Richard’s brow smoothed down
from anger to mere concern.

“Look, Mr…. Richard,” Sandy said. “I
know
what this looks like. I understand why you don’t trust me. But please believe me when I tell you that I’m not trying to take
advantage of your uncle. He’s been a friend to my family—to my Great-Aunt Linda—since before I was born. The last thing I’d
ever want to do is hurt him. In fact, I want to help him. That’s why I’m here.”

“What,” said Richard wryly, “are you a doctor on the side?”

“No.” Sandy ignored his sarcasm. “Tío Jaime told me that you need him to move to California because you can’t afford to take
care of him here. But he doesn’t want to leave his home. So—” She paused, then heard herself say, “I’m going to help you pay
his bills.”

“No,” both men said, shaking their heads in matching stubborn expressions that made Sandy see the family resemblance.

“I can’t let you do that,” Richard said. “This is a family matter. We can’t take your money.”

“But what if it’s not my money?” Sandy had a sudden flash of inspiration then. “What if it’s money he earned?”

“No,” said Tío Jaime again.

But Sandy ignored him and told Richard, “Your uncle’s helped make our site very successful. Our readers love him. But he’s
never let me compensate him for the features he’s done. Let me do it now. If I can raise the money from our readers—from his
fans—will you accept it and put it toward his bills?”

Richard opened his mouth to answer, but Tío Jaime cut him off. “If I make any money from work I’ve done, then, yes, I’ll use
it to pay my bills. Richard has no say in it.”

Richard frowned, but Sandy gave them both a triumphant smile. It was settled, then. Now all she had to do was figure out how
she was going to fulfill her promise.

“Let me… Tío Jaime, I need to talk to my boss. I have some ideas, but I need to clear them with her first.” She stood awkwardly.
She’d been sitting in the only chair in the room, and now that his nephew was here, she realized he had more of a claim to
the seat than she did.

Feeling self-conscious, she hugged the old man goodbye, then passed Richard with a polite nod and exited the room in as graceful
a hurry as she could muster.

“Sandy.”

She heard him call to her as she rounded the corner by the nurses’ station. She stopped and turned, and he walked out to her.
He’d finally put down the fruit basket, she saw.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I seemed unnecessarily harsh yesterday. I was under some stress.”

“Well. Yeah. Okay, thanks,” Sandy said.

He went on. “I have to admit to you that, when I wrote that cease-and-desist letter, I hadn’t yet seen any of the interviews
you’d done with my uncle.”

“You hadn’t?”

“No. Only the T-shirts, and that he was on TV. And then, you know, I’d done a search on your name and found… that thing about
you slandering your ex-boyfriend online. So I naturally thought—”

“What? That you should jump to conclusions, based on things you’d read online?” Sandy said. Her worst fears were true. He’d
read George’s horrible article about her relationship with Daniel. About her
blogging
about her relationship with Daniel.

“Well, no.” He looked sheepish and didn’t say anything else about it. But it was obvious to her that he’d drawn his conclusions
from the article and had no reason to revise them now.

Sandy crossed her arms. “So you thought I was the kind of person who’d trash
anyone
online, no matter who.”

“Isn’t that what you do for a living?” he returned just as quickly.

Sandy had to admit to herself that he had a point. Still, she wasn’t going to back down. Not with
him
. “I guess it is. Yes, you’re right. I get paid to make fun of celebrities. Just like you get paid to defend criminals, I’m
sure.” She knew that probably wasn’t the case if he practiced immigration law, but she said it anyway. He said nothing, so
she’d probably hit the mark with that one. She continued, “I wonder what I’d find if I did a Web search on your name? Maybe
I’ll try that tonight.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

But that was all he said, so Sandy kept walking. She didn’t need this guy lecturing her. She already knew what she’d done
wrong, and she was planning to fix it, whether he believed it or not.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, November 4, 1971

I voted for the first time. Isn’t that funny, at my age? Afterwards, Jaime and I had lunch in Austin, near the University,
and watched the students walking everywhere.

He’s been after me to get a car. I might, and I might not. So far I’m okay with my bike, but it would be nice to have a car
for when it gets cold. Maybe, when I save some more money.

Ruby says Papi isn’t doing so well. I’m worried. I wish I could go visit, if only to make sure Mami’s okay.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, December 18, 1974

Going to Del Rio for Papi’s funeral, and to help Mami pack up to move to Ruby’s in California.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, July 22, 1978

Where has this little journal been? Don’t even know what to say here anymore. That’s what happens when you get a TV, I guess.

I did get my car, and then another one. I’m a teacher now, at the same school.

Miguel is gone. He got in a wreck, drunk of course, and now I’m a widow, just like Jaime’s a widower.

We could get married now, I guess. But we can’t decide whose house we’d live in, his or mine.

Besides, he makes a good neighbor.

Ruby is doing good. Her husband bought them a bigger house and Mami has her own bedroom now. She loves watching Ruby’s kids.
I’m glad for her.

Rudolfo’s oldest girl just got married. They don’t live too far from here. I keep thinking that maybe I should write them.
All that stuff in the past is the past. It’s no excuse for not seeing my family.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, November 29, 1982

Going to California for Mami’s funeral.

I’m not going to lie. I have regrets. Not for what I did, but for what I didn’t do. I should have gone home more. I should
have forgiven her face-to-face, and let her forgive me.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, June 8, 1987

Connie, Rudolfo’s daughter, came to visit today with her daughter Dominga. We had a picnic outside. It was nice.

I told Jaime afterwards that the little girl reminded me of me, when I was little. Or maybe I just wanted to see it that way,
because I imagined that’s how it would have been if I’d ever had a daughter.

We had a ceremony at the school last week. Can’t believe I’ve been teaching there for more than 10 years now. Time flies when
you’re having fun, I guess. The older kids gave me an award: Favorite English Teacher. That was nice, too.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, undated

Thought I had lost this.

Don’t know what to write. Everything’s the same, which is good.

We’re happy.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, undated

Retirement ceremony today. It was nice.

Ruby says Connie’s girl is going to college now, to be a writer. In a way it makes me sad that I never had my own child. Then
I realize that God must have meant for me to concentrate on my children at the school.

Mostly, though, I’m very proud. Of course a girl in our family would turn out to be a writer. Loving books is in her blood.
Even if she doesn’t know it.

I’m just glad to see the way the world has changed since I was a girl. To see how everybody’s freer now. I think about my
great niece and my students, and how they’re going to grow up in a better place and be able to do whatever they want with
their lives. And I thank God for that.

Entry from Aunt Linda’s journal, undated

I don’t want to go to Ruby’s, but I see now that I have to. I don’t want Jaime to see me like this anymore. I want to leave
him with good memories, only.

We’ve been happy here.

I’m glad. For everything, God, I’m glad.

S
andy finished reading the journal late Saturday night—very, very early Sunday morning, actually. It’d made her cry. It was
a mostly happy story, of course, but she wished it had told more. She regretted, now, that she’d never really known her great-aunt.
She wished that, at the very least, Aunt Linda had found time to write more in her journal.

On the shallowest level, Sandy found herself disappointed that there was no closure to the story as far as Aunt Linda’s relationship
with Tío Jaime went. Did they ever—hook up, for want of a better expression? Her aunt never said. But Sandy imagined they
must have. It was obvious that they loved each other even though they never married.

She lay in her sofa bed late Sunday morning, hugging the journal to her chest.

Eventually her thoughts turned back to her own life.
Maybe I’ll go to work tomorrow after all.
So what if George was going to be there? So what if Angelica wasn’t really the caring mother figure Sandy had imagined her
to be? This job was her life, and her life was what she made it, right? She could stay home hiding, or she could go back into
the fray and show them what she was made of.

If she was going to leave a record of her own life online for future generations to find, the least she could do was work
toward a happy ending.

O
NCE
A
NGELICA GOT
over her surprise that Sandy wasn’t taking vacation after all, the rest was easy.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said during their private meeting in her office on Monday morning. “You’ll agree to participate
in the date auction, and you’ll even go on a double date with George and let us record it for use on the show, as long as
the proceeds benefit your Chupacabra man?”