Not only did her kid assume the worst, but he did it in an offhand manner. Shades of her brothers? Too much television? Mary wasn’t sure, but it bothered her. “She’s not dead. She just fainted.”
Justin nodded, managing to look both interested and unfazed.
“Go out to the car and get me a bottled water,” Mary finally said. “And grab something for her to eat.”
The water woke the girl up, the small bag of chips lasted about thirty seconds and the sight of Justin made her cry.
“What did I do?” Justin asked.
“Nothing, she probably just needs a good cry.”
The girl hiccuped and asked, “Are police coming?”
“I didn’t call them,” Mary said.
The girl relaxed a bit and stared at Justin. “Your brother?”
“Oh, I like you!” Mary exclaimed. “No, this is my son.”
“Son?” The girl seemed to draw into herself. This time, when the tears flowed, it didn’t look like they’d stop anytime soon. They certainly showed no sign of ceasing while Justin and Mary finally helped her to her feet and propelled her toward the door and out to the car. She went willingly into the backseat and curled up in a fetal position.
Justin raised his eyebrows, glanced at his mother and shrugged. It was actually refreshing. For the first time in days Justin wasn’t bemoaning the move to Broken Bones, Arizona.
For her part, the girl in the back was busy talking to God in Spanish. Mary figured part of the prayer had to do with the way she backed up the car with the U-Haul attached. The prayer was enough to keep the bud out of Justin’s ear and inspire curious looks that might mean actual conversation.
“What are we going to do with her, Mom?” Justin positioned himself so he could stare at their passenger.
“Take her to the cabin, feed her, clean her up and,” Mary switched to a fake German accent, “ve haf vays to make her tock.”
Justin chuckled and looked back at the girl. She struggled to a sitting position as Justin asked, “Do you have a name?”
“Alma.”
Trust Justin to ask a simple question and get a simple answer. Mary felt relieved. “Well, Alma, now that you’re talking, why don’t you tell us where we can take you? What you were doing at the car lot?”
Alma didn’t answer. Obviously Mary hadn’t mastered asking “simple” questions. “Alma?” Justin said to himself. “I’ve never heard of that name.”
Alma answered in flawless English. “I am named after my grandmother.”
“Are you from Mexico?”
“Yes.”
“When did you move here?”
“Maybe it has been a week.”
Justin was on a roll. “We just got here today. Mom says I’ll get to go to school and play sports. Baseball’s my favor—”
Mary butted in. “Are you homeless? Are you hiding from someone?”
No answer.
“I can help,” Mary said softly.
“Yeah,” Justin agreed. “We’re real good at hiding.”
Alma frowned. “I am hiding. From…No. I’m looking for my husband and—”
“Husband?” Mary interrupted. Yikes! The girl barely looked old enough to be past Barbie dolls and high school pep rallies. “Where is your husband?” Mary asked. “Do you need me to call him?”
“I think he’s dead.” The words were soft and they tore at Mary’s heart because she could hear the sorrow infused in them.
“Oh,” Justin said. “My dad’s dead, too. He died just a few years ago.”
“Leandro has been gone six months.” Alma choked up and then continued, “He was coming here.”
Justin asked the question before Mary could. “What do you mean gone? Is he dead or just missing?”
“He is missing, but I know he is dead or he would come for me.”
“My dad’s really dead.” Just like that Justin bought into the missing equals dead explanation. Well, in their world, at one time, missing meant dead, but not anymore. After all, Mary had mastered the art of “missing” without dying. Her brother Kenny was missing, yet Mary didn’t think of him as dead. She also never brought Kenny’s name up in Justin’s presence because at first, the mention of Kenny’s name made Justin cry.
Mary may wish that Eric would be the favorite uncle, the role model, but in truth, Uncle Kenny had been around when the going got tough. And Justin remembered Kenny as a happy-go-lucky uncle. One who chased him down halls and put together train sets. Justin, fortunately, didn’t know that Kenny did all this with a gun strapped to his ankle. Mary didn’t want Justin to miss Kenny. Justin was too impressionable now.
Alma went back to her original fetal position. The fetal position was a surprisingly good don’t-ask-me-any-more-questions technique that Mary had used herself once or twice. Then, the cabin came into view and Mary slowed. “Home sweet home,” she told Justin, looking at the century-old cabin that had been Eric’s inheritance from their grandfather. But now Eric lived in Gila City with his new wife and family and he was letting them stay here rent-free.
“And you’re sure we’ll have TV?” Justin asked.
“I’m sure. Maybe not today, but by next week for sure.”
Justin sat up and peered out the windshield. “Is the dark-haired guy Uncle Eric? I don’t remember him. He’s not as big as Uncle Kenny.”
No, Eric wasn’t as big as Uncle Kenny. Both Mary and Eric looked more like their mother. They were tall, dark and sinewy. Their older brothers, Sardi, Tony and Kenny, looked like their father. They resembled tall, dark, walking refrigerators. Eric’s friend had good-looking down to an art, but he sure wasn’t dressed for the dirty work of unloading furniture and unpacking boxes.
Both men started walking toward the driver’s side window. The friend’s walk was sure, deliberate. He moved without a smile. There was something about him…“He’s a cop,” Mary muttered.
Alma ducked.
“What are we going to do, Mom?” Justin sat up, half excited, half worried. In the backseat, panic seemed to roll off the girl in waves.
Mary recognized the extreme fear. A lifetime of avoiding police detection came back too easily. “Justin, it’s more like what you are going to do. Jump out, run over, give your Uncle Eric a hug and turn them away from the car. Alma, you slip out when they’re not looking and go hide. You’ll need to hide for quite a while. They’ll be unloading the U-Haul. Take some food and water from the box on the floorboard.”
Justin
