Esperanza Rising (20 page)

Esperanza and Hortensia waited in the doctor's office. Hortensia sat and tapped her foot, and Esperanza paced, looking at the diplomas on the wall.

Finally, the door swung open and the doctor walked in, then scooted behind his desk and sat down.

“Esperanza, I have good news,” he said. “Your mother's health has improved and she'll be well enough to leave the hospital in a week. She is still a little depressed but I think she needs to be around all of you. Please remember, though, that once she goes home, she will have to rest to build up her strength. There is still a chance of a relapse.”

Esperanza started laughing and crying at the same time. Mama was coming home! For the first time in the five months since Mama had entered the hospital, Esperanza's heart felt lighter.

The doctor smiled. “She has been asking for her crochet needles and yarn. You can see her now for a few minutes if you like.”

Esperanza ran down the hospital halls with Hortensia behind her to Mama's bedside, where they found her sitting up in bed. Esperanza flung her arms around her neck. “Mama!”

Mama hugged her then held her at arm's length and studied her. “Oh, Esperanza, how you've grown. You look so mature.”

Mama still looked thin but not so weak. Esperanza felt her forehead and there was no fever.

Mama laughed at her. It wasn't a strong laugh but Esperanza loved the sound.

Hortensia pronounced that her color was good and promised to purchase more yarn so that it would be waiting when she came home. “You would not believe your daughter, Ramona. She always gets called to work in the sheds, she cooks now, and takes care of the babies as well as their own mother.”

Mama reached up, pulled Esperanza to her chest, and hugged her. “I am so proud of you.”

Esperanza hugged Mama back. When the visiting hour was over, she hated to leave but kissed Mama and said her good-byes, promising to tell her everything as soon as she came home.

All week they prepared for Mama's homecoming. Hortensia and Josefina scrubbed the little cabin until it was almost antiseptic. Esperanza washed all the blankets and propped the pillows in the bed. Juan and Alfonso cushioned a chair and several crates under the shade trees so that Mama could recline outside during the hot afternoons.

On Saturday, as soon as Esperanza helped Mama from the truck, she wanted a quick tour of Papa's roses and she got weepy when she saw the blooms. Visitors came all afternoon, but Hortensia would only let people stay a few minutes, then she shooed them away for fear Mama wouldn't get her rest.

That night, Isabel showed Mama the doll and how she was taking care of it and Mama told her that she thought Isabel and the doll belonged together. When it was time for bed, Esperanza carefully lay down next to Mama, hoping she wouldn't disturb her, but Mama moved closer and put her arms around Esperanza, and held her tightly.

“Mama, Miguel is gone,” she whispered.

“I know,
mija
. Hortensia told me.”

“But Mama, it was my fault. I got angry and told him he was still a peasant and then he left.”

“It could not have been all your fault. I'm sure he knows you didn't mean it. He'll come back soon. He couldn't be away from his family for long.”

They were quiet.

“Mama, we've been away from Abuelita for almost a year,” said Esperanza.

“I know,” said Mama quietly. “It does not seem possible.”

“But I've saved money. We can bring her soon. Do you want to see how much?” Before Mama could answer, Esperanza turned on the light, checking to make sure she hadn't woken Isabel. She tiptoed to the closet and took out her valise. She grinned at Mama, knowing how proud she would be of all the money orders. She opened the bag and her mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe what she saw. She tipped the valise upside down and shook it hard.

It was empty. The money orders were gone.

M
iguel was the only one who could have taken the money orders. No one doubted that. Alfonso apologized to Esperanza, but Mama graciously said that Miguel must have needed the money to get to northern California. Alfonso promised the money would be paid back, one way or another, and Esperanza knew it would be, but she was angry with Miguel. How dare he go into her valise and take what was not his. And after all her hard work.

Mama seemed to get a little stronger every day, although she still took many naps. Hortensia was happy that she was eating well, and every day Esperanza brought home just-picked fruit to tempt her.

A few weeks later, Esperanza stood on the shed dock in the morning and marveled at the peaches, plums, and nectarines that poured into the shed.

“How will we ever sort them all?” she asked.

Josefina laughed. “One piece at a time. It gets done.”

They started with the small white clingstone peaches and then the larger yellow Elbertas. Mama loved the white peaches so Esperanza set aside a bag for her. Then after lunch, they sorted the Flaming Gold nectarines. Later that afternoon they would still have to sort a few bushels of plums.

Esperanza loved the elephant-heart plums. Mottled green on the outside and bloodred on the inside, they were tangy and sweet at the same time. She stood in the midsummer sun during her lunch break and ate one, bent over so the juice wouldn't run down her chin.

Josefina called to her.
“Mira,”
she said. “Look. There's Alfonso. What is he doing here?”

Alfonso was talking to one of the supervisors. He had never left the fields in the middle of the day and come to the sheds.

“Something must be wrong,” said Esperanza.

“Maybe it is the babies?” said Josefina and she hurried toward him.

Esperanza could see them talking and slowly began walking toward them, leaving the line of women and the stacks of lugs and plums. She tried to read from Josefina's expressions whether something was wrong. Then Josefina turned to look at her.

Esperanza felt the blood drain from her face and she suddenly knew why Alfonso was here. It had to be Mama. The doctor had said she could have a relapse. Something must have happened to her. Esperanza suddenly felt weak but she kept walking. “Is it Mama?”

“No, no. I didn't mean to alarm you, Esperanza, but I need you to come with me. Hortensia is in the truck.”

“But it's so early.”

“It's okay, I talked to the supervisor.”

She followed him to the truck. Hortensia was waiting inside. “We got a message from Miguel,” she said. “We are to meet him at the bus station in Bakersfield at three o'clock. He said he is coming from Los Angeles and that we should bring you. That's all we know.”

“But why would he want me to come?” asked Esperanza.

“I can only hope that it's to apologize for his actions,” said Hortensia.

It was over a hundred degrees. Hot wind whipped inside the cab. Esperanza felt the perspiration sliding down her skin beneath her dress. It felt strange to be riding to town on a workday, breaking her routine in the sheds. She kept thinking of all the elephant hearts that the others would have to pack shorthanded.

Hortensia squeezed her hand. “I can't wait to see him,” she said.

Esperanza offered a tight smile.

They arrived at the bus station and sat on a bench in front. The clerks all spoke to one another in English, their hard, sharp words meaning nothing to Esperanza. It always startled her when she heard English and she hated not knowing what people were saying. Someday she would learn it. She strained to hear each announcement that was made, finally hearing the words she was waiting for, “Los Angeles.”

A silver bus turned the corner and pulled into the bay in front of the station. Esperanza searched through the passengers seated on the bus but couldn't see Miguel. She and Hortensia and Alfonso stood up and watched everyone get off. And then, finally, there was Miguel standing in the doorway of the bus. He looked tired and rumpled but when he saw his parents, he jumped from the steps, grabbing his mother and hugging her, then his father, clapping him on the back.

He looked at Esperanza and smiled. “I have brought you proof that things will get better,” he said.

She looked at him, trying to be angry. She didn't want him to think she was glad to see him. “Did you bring back what you have stolen?”

“No, but I brought you something better.”

Then he turned to help the last passenger from the bus, a small, older woman trying to get down the steep steps. The sun, reflecting off the shiny bus, glinted in Esperanza's eyes. She shaded them with her hand, trying to imagine what Miguel was talking about.

For a moment, she saw
un fantasma,
a ghost of Abuelita walking toward her, with one arm reaching out to her and the other pressing on a wooden cane.

“Esperanza,” said the ghost.

She heard Hortensia suck in her breath.

Suddenly, Esperanza knew that her eyes were not deceiving her. Her throat tightened and she felt as if she couldn't move.

Abuelita came closer. She was small and wrinkled, with wisps of white hair falling out of her bun at the back of her head. Her clothes looked mussed from travel, but she had her same white lace handkerchief tucked into the sleeve of her dress and her eyes brimmed with tears. Esperanza tried to say her name but couldn't. Her throat was cramping from her emotions. She could only reach out for her grandmother and bury her head in the familiar smell of face powder, garlic, and peppermint.

“Abuelita, Abuelita!” she cried.

“
Aquí estoy
. I am here,
mi nieta
. How I have missed you.”

Esperanza rocked her back and forth, daring to believe that it was true, looking at her through tears to make sure she was not dreaming. And laughing finally. Laughing and smiling and holding her hands. Then Hortensia and Alfonso took their turns.

Esperanza looked at Miguel.

“How?” she asked.

“I needed to have something to do while I waited for work. So I went for her.”

After they pulled into camp, they escorted Abuelita into their cabin where they found Josefina, Juan, and the babies waiting.

“Josefina, where's Mama?”

“It was warm so we settled her in the shade. She fell asleep. Isabel is sitting with her. Is everything all right?”

Hortensia introduced Abuelita to Juan and Josefina, whose faces lit up. Esperanza then watched her grandmother look around the tiny room that now held pieces of their new life. Isabel's pictures on the wall, a bowl of peaches on the table, the babies' toys underfoot, Papa's roses in a coffee can. Esperanza wondered what Abuelita thought of the sad conditions, but she just smiled and said, “Please take me to my daughter.”

Esperanza took Abuelita's hand and led her toward the trees. She could see Mama reclining in the shade near the wooden table. A quilt was spread on the ground nearby where the babies usually played. Isabel was running back from the vineyard, her hands full of wildflowers and grapevines. She saw Esperanza and ran toward her and Abuelita.