A Blossom of Bright Light (25 page)

Chapter 31

A
dele kicked Jimmy out of her house just after eleven on Friday night. She would never have allowed him to stay over—not with Sophia there. Besides, her mind was racing with so many worries and unanswered questions, she couldn't delight in his touch the way she normally did. She felt ashamed and embarrassed that when she closed her eyes, she didn't see Jimmy. She saw Señor Trejo. The way his gut rested like a bowling ball on a hammock between his hips. Those sweaty, grease-stained hands
.
The flaccid underside of his chin.

Certain scents brought back those years the Trejos watched her and her younger sister while her parents worked long hours. Diesel fumes. Spearmint gum. Glade air freshener. Señor Trejo was a bus mechanic. Everyone in Adele's family thought the smell of fuel made Adele nauseous.

It wasn't the fuel.

She supposed she was lucky in a way. Her own parents were kind and loving. Señor Trejo targeted only her, not her younger sister, and only when Señora Trejo wasn't around, which wasn't often. The abuse never went all the way, and by the time Adele was twelve, she was old enough to watch her sister and help out at her parents' business, so they didn't need a babysitter anymore. Adele never told her parents what Señor Trejo did to her; she assumed his wife didn't know either. But the older she got, the more she began to wonder: Was Señora Trejo really as innocent as she seemed? If what Jimmy had said tonight was true, Adele had to wonder the same about Esme. Did she know?

Peter was taking Sophia to his parents' house in Connecticut for the weekend. Adele spent the early part of the morning getting her daughter packed and giving her a good breakfast. But her mind was elsewhere—on the job offer in D.C., on whether Schulman would reach Judge Hallard in time to reverse Manuel's deportation. But most of all on Luna. When Sophia complained that Adele had failed to completely cut the crust off her toast, Adele exploded.

“This is your big problem in life, Mija? You have no idea what real problems are!”

Before Adele knew it, they were both in tears—Sophia because Adele had yelled at her and Adele? She couldn't even say anymore. There was so much, stretching all the way back to a man with sweaty hands who stank of diesel fuel. The house became filled with slamming doors and raised voices, and the dispute culminated in Adele's guilt-ridden apology. By the time she dropped Sophia off at her father's, she felt like the worst mother in the world. Not a good way to slide into what she had to do next.

 

The Serrano children often spent Saturday mornings at La Casa—Dulce and Mateo getting tutoring, Luna helping the other volunteers mentor the younger children. But they hadn't shown up this morning, according to Kay, the weekend volunteer coordinator. Adele wasn't really surprised. The children had been through so much, tutoring wasn't a priority right now. Still, after Jimmy's conversation last night, Adele felt she needed to check up on them, if not at La Casa, then at the Gonzalez house. She had the perfect excuse for dropping by: her staff had collected $150 for the children to help pay for any incidentals they might need. Plus Adele had come across a copy of one of Luna's favorite childhood books that she'd lost when the family's apartment was destroyed in a fire. She thought it might give the teenager some comfort right now.

Adele rarely drove into The Farms, where the Gonzalezes lived. The development was on the eastern side of town near the lake that gave Lake Holly its name. Jimmy's ex lived out this way. So did many of La Casa's biggest patrons. It was meant to look like a neighborhood, but Adele never got a neighborhood feel driving around the manicured streets. The houses were too big, the driveways too long. The grass never looked like children trampled it. Even now, in late October, flowers bloomed in perfect, well-tended arrangements like they'd just popped out of a Disney movie.

Adele pulled into the Gonzalezes' driveway and got out of her car. She was pleased to hear children's voices in the backyard. Maybe the Serrano kids had lost themselves in play. If so, that was certainly good news.

She rang the front doorbell. Esme answered. She had her coat on and a bag slung over one shoulder like she was just about to go out. She did not look happy to see Adele.

“I'm so sorry to bother you, Doña Esme. I just wanted to see how the Serrano children were making out. I have a little something from La Casa to give to them.”

“Oh.” Esme did not invite Adele in. Then again, if someone had dropped by Adele's house this morning unannounced, they'd have found Sophia crying about crusts on her bread and Adele screaming at her, so she certainly wasn't one to point fingers.

“It won't take long,” Adele promised. “The children—they aren't coming with you?”

“Christian and Alex are at soccer. David is at karate. I'm going to pick up my boys now. I think Luna is old enough to watch her own brother and sister.”

“Yes, of course,” said Adele. “I'd be happy to visit with them a little if you need to leave.”

Esme hesitated. “I suppose I can stick around for a few minutes. Mateo and Dulce are playing in back. Why don't you go out there and I will bring Luna?”

Mateo and Dulce were kicking a soccer ball back and forth without enthusiasm. They both came running over as soon as they saw Adele. They thought she had news. She felt bad to disappoint them.

“We're still working on some things,” Adele told the children. She would've loved to mention Judge Hallard, but she didn't want to get their hopes up for nothing. “Have you spoken to your father yet?” she asked them.

“Last night,” said Mateo. “He promised to call again.”

The sliding glass door by the patio opened and out stepped Luna and Esme. Luna's hair looked stringy and unwashed. Her eyes were downcast, her gait hesitant. Esme put her arm around Luna's shoulder and combed her hair from her face.

“Poor Luna,” said Esme. “She's very sad right now. We're trying hard to cheer her up.”

“Look, Luna, I can almost do a cartwheel,” said Dulce. The seven-year-old raised her hands high above her head and spun head over heel, leaving off the last part of the maneuver with two feet thudding to the earth. It was a good first effort. Adele applauded. Luna's smile looked like the corners of her lips each weighed a hundred pounds. Was this sadness over her father? Or something more? Adele tried to remember how she had behaved after Señor Trejo's advances. Whatever she'd felt, she must have been good at hiding it, the same way she could hide things now. To their dying days, her parents never suspected a thing.

“We're working on getting your father back,” Adele told Luna, hoping that was the cause of her sadness. “You mustn't lose hope.”

Esme stroked the top of Luna's head. “You see, mami?” she said, using the term affectionately the way some Spanish mothers do to their children. “Everyone is worried about you. You don't want to make them sad or make your papi sad, do you?”

“I brought something for you,” said Adele. She pulled out the book, a paperback called
Esperanza Rising
. “Remember this? You said your copy was destroyed in the fire. I found this copy at a garage sale. I know how much you always loved it.”

Adele placed the paperback in Luna's hands. On the sky-blue cover was a drawing of a windswept girl in a flowing, mustard-colored dress, her bare feet above the green croplands and twilight-colored hillsides of California. Like Luna, the title character was a teenage Mexican girl struggling with a parent's death, family separations, and hardship as an immigrant in the United States. The book was set in the 1930s, but for a girl like Luna, the story was as relevant now as it was in the character's day.

Luna stared at the cover. Adele felt a sudden panic that the fictional character's circumstances might be the last thing the teenager wanted to be reminded of right now.

“Say thank you to Doña Adele,” Esme scolded. Luna mumbled a thank you, but that only made Adele feel more embarrassed that she'd done the wrong thing.

“I also brought this,” Adele added quickly, pulling the envelope with the collection money out of her purse. She handed it to Luna. “Everyone at La Casa pitched in some cash for you and Mateo and Dulce to be able to buy things you might need. We raised a hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Wow,” said Dulce. “Can I have a phone?”

Adele grinned. That girl would survive a nuclear war.

“Please thank everyone there for their generosity,” Luna mumbled woodenly. She inserted the envelope inside the cover of the book. There was no spark to her. Nothing. Adele had always been able to read her before. Now she had no idea what the teenager was thinking.

“My cousin Yolanda is coming to visit this afternoon,” said Esme. “Maybe that will cheer Luna up. I'm hoping. Right, mami?” Esme turned to Adele. “Let me walk you out.”

Adele looked over at Luna. There was a fraction of a second when the teenager lifted her gaze and Adele saw something push through the fog. Panic? Anger?
Fear?
Dulce and Mateo seemed fine—well, as fine as any child could be who had just watched the government wrench their father away from them.

But Luna? Esme seemed so kind and loving. And yet—

Adele grabbed Luna's hand. She squeezed it hard enough for the sensation to register. She waited for Luna to look up at her. “You know La Casa's number, right?”

Luna nodded. Adele took out a business card and scribbled her cell on the back. She shoved it inside the book
.

“You need to talk, call me at La Casa or on my cell anytime. Day or night. I'll call you back right away. You understand?”

“You worry too much, Doña Adele,” said Esme. “Luna will be just fine.”

 

Luna's demeanor made Adele more anxious than ever to get Manuel returned to Lake Holly. As soon as she got back to her house, she dialed Judge Hallard's cell phone herself. Hallard picked up on the third ring. He sounded out of breath.

“Oh my goodness, Judge. Thank you so much for answering.”

“I'm at the gym, Miss Figueroa. But if this is when Schulman wants to talk, okay.”

“He hasn't called you yet?”

“No.”

“There must be some mistake. He told me he was going to call you.”

“I've had my cell phone on since I spoke to you yesterday, young lady. There are no missed calls from Schulman on it.”

“Perhaps he dialed wrong. Can you call
him?
”

Silence.
Damn.
She'd overstepped her bounds. She heard him take a long pull of water.

“Look, Miss Figueroa,” he exhaled. “Don't take this the wrong way, but a man eyeing a seat in the U.S. Senate will promise a lot of things he has no intention of delivering on. I have no idea whether that's the case here or not. But I can't stick this Serrano guy at the front of the line without a say-so from Schulman. That hasn't happened.”

“But he promised,” said Adele, well aware of how much she sounded like her nine-year-old daughter at the moment.

“In my long experience in Washington, I can tell you that the words ‘I promise' have about as much weight as a college freshman's sobriety pledge. Maybe he's sincere; maybe he's just dodging a bullet. The only way for me to know is if he calls. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful than that, but if Schulman doesn't want to stick his neck out for this Serrano, I most certainly cannot.”

D
oña Esme set Luna to work making lunch for the younger children before she left to fetch her boys from their sports activities. She ordered Luna to make grilled cheese sandwiches, but then complained that her tomato slices were too thick.

“You think if you do a bad job, you won't have to do it again—is that it?” asked Doña Esme.

“No,” Luna insisted. Already this morning before Doña Adele came, Luna had done two loads of laundry, mopped the upstairs, and wiped down the toilets. “I'm trying my best,” she said.

“This is your best?” Doña Esme held up a lumpy slice of tomato and flung it back at her. “This is not a free ride here, chica. You're a woman. Not a child. You stay, you help.” She folded her arms across her chest and regarded Luna with narrowed eyes like she'd stolen something. “You certainly seem to be helping yourself in every other way.”

Luna wasn't sure what she meant. All she knew was that she barely slept last night. She awoke cotton-mouthed, a metallic taste lingering at the back of her palate. Her hair had turned stringy here. She hadn't had a chance to wash it, but that wasn't the reason. Her whole body felt like it was carrying the scent of something decayed. Fear. That's what this was. She couldn't make her mind forget last night, the blood-soaked mattress, the raw evidence of something indecent and secretive in that basement. She knew, too, that if she didn't do everything Doña Esme and the señor told her to do, she'd never see Papi again. And so she kept her head down and tried to slice the tomato more evenly.

Mateo and Dulce came inside and helped her make lunch the moment Doña Esme went to pick up her sons. They took the plastic off the American cheese slices. They poured milk into glasses. They didn't fight like they usually did. They didn't say anything at all. Luna tried to pretend they were just making a normal lunch together, but even they knew something was wrong.

“We should call Alirio and Maria José,” Mateo suggested softly. Luna shook her head, no.

“Papi is still in Pennsylvania,” she reminded Mateo. “Mr. Schulman is the only one with the power to help him. The Gonzalezes are the only ones with the power to convince Mr. Schulman. If we leave, Papi will lose his chance.”

“But Doña Esme isn't very nice to you,” said Mateo. Dulce nodded in agreement.

“Maybe things will get better,” Luna said. She wasn't sure even they believed that.

The atmosphere improved a bit in the afternoon. Christian, Alex, and David came home. After lunch, they kicked a ball around with Mateo. Doña Esme let Dulce pet one of her parakeets. After Luna stacked the dishwasher, she was allowed to go up to her room to do some homework.

She stared at her biology textbook, but her mind was a blank. Her mother's begonia sat on the windowsill. A few of the pink petals had dropped to the dirt. The leaves were yellow in the center and starting to brown and crinkle at the edges. Mami's begonia didn't like its new home. Luna understood.

She couldn't get herself to concentrate, so she took out
Esperanza Rising
and tried to read the opening paragraphs about Mexico that she had liked so much when she first read them in sixth grade. But all it did was fill her with sadness, thinking about Papi going to this place she didn't remember, this place he couldn't leave. She forced herself to answer some biology questions in preparation for her test Monday, but most of the review material she needed was on Mr. Ulrich's webpage. To access it, she needed a computer. Luna and her siblings used to use the computer at La Casa since they didn't have one of their own. Luna didn't know if the Gonzalezes would let her use one of theirs.

Before she could get up the nerve to ask them, exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep. When she woke up, the house was quiet. There was a note shoved under the door in big, bold print that she recognized as Mateo's:
Doña Esme's cousin Yolanda took us all to the movies. See you later—Love, Mateo and Dulce.

Luna walked downstairs. The house was empty and quiet save for the parakeets. She figured no one would mind if she used one of the computers to access her science teacher's webpage. There was a laptop on a small table in the corner of the kitchen. A Mac—much nicer than the boxy old desktop she used at La Casa. Luna turned it on. The screen lit up instantly with some kind of purplish space galaxy in the background and a row of icons below.

Luna knew she was supposed to be accessing Lake Holly High's website, but she ended up typing
Lords Valley PA
into Google just to see what the area looked like that Papi was in. It was silly, she knew, since Papi would never see any of it. Still, it comforted her in an odd way to see that it was an area in the Pocono Mountains full of wooded hills and streams. She wondered if perhaps he got to take a walk outside in some fenced area. Maybe he could see the trees. He'd always loved nature.

She closed out of the images and typed in her school's website, then clicked on Mr. Ulrich's webpage. Some of the study materials needed to be printed out. Luna didn't see a printer, but the information was simple enough that she could copy it by hand. She searched the kitchen drawers for a pen and scrap paper. Doña Esme was so fanatically neat that even scrap paper and pens were hard to find.

She finally located a few pens in one drawer, along with one crumpled piece of paper. One side was blank. The other side was a flyer of some sort with several photographs of a girl. A dead girl.

Luna stared at the pictures. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't tear herself away. On the bottom of the flyer, the police listed a phone number to call if anyone knew the girl or had information on her.

She had information.

She wished she didn't.

She wished she'd never seen the blue room in the basement with the slide bolt on the door and the bloodstains on the mattress.

The overhead kitchen light flicked on behind her. Doña Esme stood in the doorway, staring at Luna, staring at the flyer in her hands.