California Sunrise (13 page)

“I think all of us believe that.”

He paused in front of the building. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No.” The word ended any thought she had of recovering her relationship with Raúl.

He looked at the sidewalk, then back up at her. “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe go to the Boardwalk?”

“I haven’t been to the Boardwalk in ages.” Not since her mom had taken her as a kid, back when she thought she had a real family, before her life had gone downhill and never recovered.

It’d be fun to act like a kid again.

“I’d love to.”

His grin encompassed his face. No secrets there.

“How about Sunday afternoon? I know you have to work. Can you get away?”

Maybe her grandmother would be able to care for Luis for a few more hours after church. “I’ll have to check and get back to you. I have my son to care for.”

“That’s right. I forgot.”

Would he invite Luis along?

Raúl would have.

“I hope it works out.” He held the door for her. “It’d be fun.”

Her bubble of happiness deflated a little. “Yeah, it would.”

The class lecture was candy for her mind. Alicia chewed over every concept Dr. Susan laid out for them.

“We’re so committed to the ideal of a nuclear family—two heterosexual parents, two children—that we become blind to the reality of family’s purpose: to support the physical development of children, the emotional growth in adults, and care of the aging. Family is unique to each of us, and blood relationships, marriages, or their dissolution, can be a factor or not. Alicia’s paper demonstrated that understanding in a way that is unique.”

Her heart nearly burst with pride.

“In spite of the non-traditional structure, she’s lucky to have the people in her life she does.” Dr. Susan handed her the paper.

Tears washed her eyes as she stared at the big, red A on it.

She was a student. She was good at this. Flipping through the pages, she saw where she needed to improve—grammar and organization. A note at the bottom caught her eye:

Was that what Raúl had been trying to tell her?

He’d sure picked a lame way to do it.

On their way back to the stairs, Josh took her hand. She wanted to pull away. It was too soon. She still had the touch of Raúl’s lips branded on hers.

But that didn’t matter anymore.

“See you Sunday,” Josh said when he left her to go to his next class. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.” She smiled, hoping it covered her nervousness at the prospect. She started down the steps.

“Hey!” Graciela’s voice stopped her.

What was she doing here? Should she ignore the woman?

“Good to see you have a new Anglo boy toy,” Graciela said. “That means you’ll leave Dr. Raúl alone.”

“Why? He’s not like Eduardo. He won’t roll over for you.”

Graciela laughed. “He’s a man. Of course I can make him do what I want.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Checking into nursing school. I’ll be more valuable to Dr. Raúl that way.” She crowded Alicia, who took a step back, aware of the long flight of cement below her. “Listen, bitch, stay away from the office with your retarded kid.”

“Don’t bring my son into this.” Alicia stood as tall as she could, reclaiming her space, and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “If you want Raúl, feel free to go after him. I don’t care. He’s my son’s pediatrician, not my boyfriend.” Each lie tasted bitter in her mouth, but she needed to make Graciela go away.

She felt sick to her stomach.

God, she hated that woman. Why was Graciela trying to make her life so miserable? What had she ever done to her former best friend?

Graciela eyed her, as if trying to figure out if her words were true. “Just keep it that way. I’ll ruin you if you ruin my plans.” She pushed her finger into Alicia’s arm in time with her words. “Stay. Away. From. Him.” Turning, she went back up the stairs, hips swaying seductively as if nothing had happened.

Alicia was unable to get her pulse under control until she was in her car with the doors locked as tightly as her heart.

• • •

He was an idiot!

Raúl stared at his phone, willing it to ring, to provide an answer to the three texts he’d sent. If only God received text messages. Then he could answer man’s most vexing question: How do you handle a woman?

Obviously, he didn’t have the skills. Not only had he driven Alicia from a relationship, but he’d messed up his ability to help her with Luis.

On top of that, he had to figure out what to do about Juan. His brother had once again crossed the border illegally, screwing Raúl’s chances of getting him back into the country on the government’s terms. Now Juan wanted his help hiding in plain sight so he wouldn’t wind up being deported.

“They’re looking for me,” Juan had said. “They say they’re going to kill me. I had to cross the border.”

Even though Juan was a decade older, he’d held a young man’s fear in his voice. And there was no reason to ask who “they” were. He was referring to one of the many cartels that had more control in Mexico than any criminal organization ought to have.

And his brother was in their sights.

The problem was, Raúl didn’t know any way to help his brother. He wasn’t part of the country’s shadow economy. He’d told Juan his best bet was to find a church. Many Latinos might be illegal, but they were faithful illegals.

“
Sí. Sí.
I’ll try that,” Juan had said.

Raúl had so much to put out of his mind. His parents’ refusal to sign the papers the lawyer needed, Juan on the run, and his foul-up with the woman he cared for.

He looked at his schedule. Another forty minutes before his next appointment. Time that should have belonged to Alicia. He pawed through his paperwork. There had to be something for him to do other than think about the chaos tearing through his heart.

A brief knock was followed by the door opening.

The pen in his hand stabbed into his clenched fist.

Damn it.
How many times had he told his staff to wait until he told them to come in?

“Am I disturbing you?” His partner interrupted his intended speech on privacy. “Looks like your blood pressure is up a little, Raúl.”

“Just some things on my mind.”

“Oh?” Hadiya settled herself in the chair in front of his desk. “Anything you care to share?”

“No.”

A thin eyebrow inched a little higher. “As you see fit.”

“See?” he said. “You understand. Why don’t all women understand there are some things a man just has to keep to himself?”

The eyebrow lifted even higher. “I’m not in a relationship with you. I’m assuming you’ve had a spat with Alicia and that’s what’s turned you into a grumbling bear.”

“It wasn’t a spat. It’s over.” Before it really began.

“Ahh.” She shifted in her chair. “The problem is that it’s affecting everyone around you. The office staff is complaining to me.”

“Why? I’m no different than I was last week.” He knew as well as she did the statement was a lie. His anger, the flip side of his depression, had sputtered to life several times in the last two days.

“Raúl, when I first met you, you mentioned you’d battled depression most of your life. I told you then I didn’t want it affecting our partnership. Remember?”

He nodded, shame-induced heat flooding his body. He wished he could be as cool as she was—hiding every emotion under her mask of professionalism, yet still projecting a warmth that all her patients loved.

She unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to him. “This might help.”

He scanned the information—a support group for people who’d had family members deported was forming.

“I’ve never heard of this.”

“Will you go?”

“I’ll think about it.” How much would she force the issue? He could get his mood swings back under control without having to dissect his life with a bunch of strangers.

“I can’t force you to go; you’re a grown man.”

He let his shoulders relax.

“But”—she leaned forward—“you’ve been carrying this a long time. It happened, and it’s tragic, but resentment is a cancer to any relationship—in the office or outside it. Ultimately, it will affect the good work you do. Are you willing to let the government ruin your life?”

“I can control it.”

“No, you can’t.” Her eyes narrowed.

“So it’s this or get out?” His voice hardened with distress.

“Why are you fighting me so hard on this, Raúl? What are you afraid you’ll discover? No, I’m not going to force you out of the partnership.”

The unspoken “yet” reverberated in the office.

“When my parents were deported,” he said, hoping to make her understand, “it felt like my country—the country I’d been born in, the country of the flag I saluted every day, my country—had betrayed me.” Why couldn’t people understand his heartbreak?

“But that’s changing,” Hadiya said.

“It’s a little late for me,” he said, gripping his hands together.

“True. But you can be there for the next generation—see that children get the health care they need so they grow up to be successful.”

“Ha!” he spat out. “Except people like this Joe Wilson want to take that right away from me.”

“So we’ll fight him.” She tapped her slender fingers on the chair arm. “But all of this doesn’t change my concern. Your past was horrible, and I’m sorry it happened to you, but don’t you think it’s time to rejoin the living and move forward? You can’t fight the Joe Wilsons of the world if you’re too busy fighting the battles of the past.”

Maybe she was right. He had to accept his childhood as it was, not like he wanted it to be. His parents had moved on, as painful as it was. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

While the answer wasn’t substantially different from the one he’d given her earlier, she seemed to accept this one, because she gave him a warm smile and stood.

“Take it easy on the staff in the meantime, will you? They’re good people and deserve a break.”

“Yeah.” His mind was already racing as she left his office. Would the support group really be the answer? He hated the idea, but if it could help him repair his relationship with Alicia, maybe it would be worth it.

Another knock on the door. This time, he held his temper when the door immediately opened.

“There are some men here to see you.” The newest receptionist had to be right out of high school.

Mindful of Hadiya’s warning, he made his voice soft. “Any idea who they are?”

“They have badges.”

“Then you’d better send them back.”

He stood when the two neatly pressed, short-haired men were ushered into his office. “How can I help you?”

No need to invite them to get comfortable.

“Special Agent John Sargent.” The taller, thinner one held out his hand.

Raúl looked at it for a second before shaking.

“And this is Agent Thompson.”

The second man held out his hand.

Once again, Raúl completed the ritual.

“May we sit down?” Agent Sargent asked.

“What agency are you from?” If they were going to arrest him, no need for any more niceties.

“Homeland Security.”

That didn’t really tell him much. The Department of Homeland Security had tentacles in almost every agency the federal government had ever dreamed up.

“How can I help you?”

“May we sit down?” Agent Sargent repeated.

Raúl shrugged. “Sure.” He waited until they’d settled before sinking into his own leather chair. Having lost the first skirmish, he kept silent.

Sargent tapped on the smartphone he held in his hand. “Do you know a Juan Mendez?”

Raúl hesitated. How much did the feds already know? “There are many Mendezes. I can’t be sure you are speaking about someone I may know.”

Sargent’s lips flattened. “I think you know we are talking about the same Juan Mendez. It would be the brother of Javier and Jorge. All three were deported ten years ago, along with their parents. Only the anchor baby remained. That would be you, Raúl Mendez, wouldn’t it?”

Raúl’s mouth tasted like bitter lemon. He nodded but remained silent. Experience had taught him to offer as little information as possible.

“According to Mexican authorities, Juan has been seen working with the vigilantes fighting the drug cartels in Sonora.” Sargent’s dark eyes stared at Raúl. “He appears to have been quite effective. So successful, in fact, there’s a bounty on his head from the cartel.”

Raúl’s muscles tensed, but still he kept silent, waiting for the feds to play out their hand.

The silence lengthened, but finally one of the officials gave in.

“We have reason to believe he’s crossed the border into the States,” Agent Thompson said.

His partner glared at him.

“And?” Raúl laid his palms flat on his desk, pushing down on the cool wood.

“We need to know if he contacts you.” The eager-beaver agent earned another glare from his partner.

“So you can do what, exactly?” Raúl forced himself to keep his hands steady, although he longed to bunch them into fists and use them on the representatives of the government that had cost him his family.

The talkative fed opened his mouth again.

Agent Sargent cleared his throat.

Thompson’s mouth snapped closed.

Sargent leaned forward. It was amazing how such a thin man could become more intimidating with such an insignificant action. “We’re trying to help him, Raúl, but he can’t be in this country illegally.”

“So you want me to tell you he’s here so you can ship him back to Mexico to be killed?” Raúl stood. “This conversation is over, gentlemen.”

The two men rose as well.

“We’re trying to help here, Mr. Mendez.” Special Agent John Sargent put his card on the desk. “Please let us know if you hear from your brother. He’ll be better off if you do.”

The agent’s voice held the underlying threat:
So will you.