by Kelly Irvin
A young boy, maybe eight or nine, broke away from the kids playing nearby and loped toward them. “Papí, I’m thirsty.”
He slowed to a walk when he saw Gabriella. His smile turned uncertain. Eli’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “Samuel, come here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
His expression bright with curiosity, the boy did as he was told. Warm brown eyes under a mop of curly brown hair. High cheekbones, full lips. Bronze skin. Tall for his age. He was the spitting image of his father. “Hello, I’m Samuel.” He held out his hand. Perfect manners. Not so much like his dad.
Enchanted, she shook his hand. “I’m Gabriella.”
“Eli is my dad.” He smiled. He would be a heartbreaker someday. A miniature Eli. “He’s a policeman.”
“I know. He’s my friend. I’m a chef. Do you like brownies?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We’ll have a picnic in a while.”
“Okay. Are you my dad’s girlfriend? Mamá says he’s getting married.”
Direct, also like his father. “I am. And we are.”
“That’s good, I guess. Mamá says you make him happy.”
Mamá said a lot, but Samuel’s intelligent eyes and serious demeanor suggested this child was wise beyond his years. Gabriella nodded and smiled. “And he makes me happy.”
“Máma says adults are like that. I don’t get it.” Frowning, he studied his dirty Nikes for a second. “Girls are gross. Can I go play now?”
But still a little boy.
Eli handed a water bottle to his son. He cleared his throat. “Go.”
Samuel gulped down the water, handed the bottle back, whirled, and ran.
Struggling to keep tears in check, Gabriella watched him go. “He’s all you. Except the manners. That must be his mother.”
Eli didn’t answer. She leaned into his chest and stared up at him. Emotion lined the contours of his sculpted face. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He swiped his eyes on his T-shirt sleeve.
“You’re a father, Eli.”
“It’s crazy. I know.” He cleared his throat again. “Lily is a good mother. She’s making sure he gets an excellent education. But a boy needs his father. I’m looking forward to teaching him to play baseball and basketball. She’s had him in soccer, which is fine, but I’d like to do more. Next weekend I’m taking him to Laredo to meet Mom and Dad. We’re going fishing.”
“They know then.”
“They do. My dad who isn’t my dad.”
Bless Virginia. It must’ve been the hardest conversation of her life, even harder than the one with Xavier all those years ago. “Xavier is your papí. He loved you and raised you and disciplined you. He fought for your eternal salvation. What child could ask for more of a father?”
“Things have been better between us since we talked.”
“See, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“He told me I’ll make a good father.”
“Of course you will. You had a good role model and you’re a good man.”
“I wasn’t so sure when Lily told me about Samuel. It’s hard for me to show my feelings—don’t roll your eyes at me.” He laughed and squeezed her hand. “I don’t want to be that way with Samuel. I want him to know I love him. I want him to be better at showing his feelings.”
“We’ll work on that together. Right now, let’s just enjoy the moment. You have a son.”
“I messed up nine years ago, but now I can’t honestly say I’m sorry.” Eli sank back against the bench. His expression said he was a million miles and a hundred years away. “I was working undercover in a sting designed to take down a gang on the south side that was running prostitution, drugs, money laundering—a full-service organization.”
“Liliana was part of that ring?”
“By family. Not by choice. She was young and gorgeous—”
“I don’t need all the details.”
“I know. I just want you to see what I saw. I’m not trying to justify what I did. It was wrong. If the higher-ups found out I would’ve lost my job. Before the bust went down, I helped her get out. She left town without telling me about Samuel. I didn’t see her again until last year.”
“Why now? Why come back after all these years?”
“Her father was dying. Her mother needed her.” His gaze followed Samuel, who swung gracefully across the monkey bars and dropped to his feet at the other end. “She had family business to deal with. She’s divesting from some of her business interests. She’s . . . branching out. She’ll be traveling a lot for at least the next year.”
“And now she wants you in Samuel’s life?”
“She wants my influence.” He snorted. “I know that’s crazy.”
“No it’s not, considering the alternative.”
“She wants to share custody with me, with us. I know that means she’ll be in our lives permanently, but we have a son together.” He withdrew his arm and clasped her hands in his. “Can you handle that? I know it’s a lot to ask—”
“We’re all adults—even if I haven’t always acted like it.” Her jealousy, suspicion, and mistrust had led her down a painful road that could’ve ended in permanent loneliness. She could’ve missed all this. “I owe you an apology for how I acted. I’m truly sorry.”
“It was surreal. Having her show up at my door with Samuel. It opened old wounds and old feelings. I lost my bearings for a while. I couldn’t figure out how to make it all fit together. My son, his mother, me. What did it mean for you and me?” His hands tightened on hers, then released. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I ended up hurting you worse. I did something stupid and then I compounded it by not owning up to it. Forgive me?”
In other words, they were both human. They messed up but, by God’s grace, would get another chance. “Clean slate?”
“Clean slate.”
“Ava and Cullen will love having a cousin to play with.” She would love Samuel because she loved Eli. They were a package deal wrapped up in a bow. “We have an extra room at the house. He can stay with us when you’re working—”
Eli’s mouth closed over hers. The kiss reverberated all the way to the tips of her toes. She slid her hands around his neck and took control. Pent-up emotions exploded. Eli’s hands tightened around her waist.
“Papí!”
They burst apart as if a grenade had exploded. His arms crossed, a scowl on his face, Samuel stood a few yards away. He marched over to Eli and whispered something in his ear and marched away.
“What was that about?”
“He said we’re embarrassing him. That boys and girls don’t do that in public. It’s called PDA.” Eli’s grin stretched ear to ear. “We’ve just been called out by my son.”
“Someday he’ll be a teenager and we’ll get even.” Laughing, she studied the engagement ring on her finger. The diamonds and sapphires sparkled in the sun. She touched the cool gems with one finger. “We have the rest of our lives to embarrass him with PDA.”
“Starting now. He’ll just have to get used to it.” Eli tugged the band from her hair so it fell to her shoulders. His hands cradled her head, his fingers intertwined in the long strands. His scent of Polo enveloped her as he lowered his head. His gaze locked with hers, telling her how much he wanted and needed her. Would always love her. The sounds of children playing and birds jabbering and cars crawling along the nearby street faded away.
“Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any better, it did.”
“I can’t promise every day will be like this. We’ll have good days and bad days. We both know that.” His smile was sweeter than any culinary concoction she could create. “But what I can promise you is that we’ll be in it together. Always.”
He sealed the words with a soft, sweet, slow kiss.
God, let this day last forever and ever.
Amen.
A Note from the Author
I lived in Laredo, Texas, from 1981 to 1987, wo
rking as a newspaper journalist. I also lived in El Paso, Texas, for a year and have lived in San Antonio, Texas, for almost thirty years. My experiences living so close to the U.S.–Mexico border and in a city that is a multicultural melting pot shapes my writing in this and other stories. However, I want to emphasize Over the Line is not intended to be a treatise on any political, economic, or social issues related to U.S.–Mexico border policies or relations. The opinions expressed by the characters are theirs alone, born out of their life experiences and values. I will keep mine to myself. The book was written in 2017 and early 2018, so any events or changes in laws and policy that have occurred since that time are not reflected here.
I have occasionally skewed law enforcement tactics and divisions to suit the needs of my story. The media outlets mentioned are real, but the journalists are fictional. As a young reporter, I did indeed frequent a pool hall with my media colleagues in Laredo in the early 1980s. We played pool every Thursday night at the Sky Lounge, owned and operated by Laredo police department officers. To be able to mine those rich memories for Over the Line was great fun.
On occasion, I created swatches of industrial park along the Rio Grande outside of Laredo where I needed them to be for my story. The statistics and other facts represent information available at the time the story was written and may have changed since then. While tunnels like the one in which my characters languish have and do exist along the U.S.–Mexico border, particularly in California, I’m not aware of any specifically being found in the Laredo–Nuevo Laredo area. I have done my best to be accurate regarding gun trafficking and types of weapons described. Any errors are my own, and I hope they don’t impede your enjoyment of the story.
I love the multicultural heritage of my adopted home. Our lives are enriched by the ethnic flavors brought to our tables each day as we live side by side in a state over which six flags have flown. Our similarities will always be greater than our differences. For the record, I may not have been born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could!
Above all else, Over the Line is a work of fiction intended to entertain, but also to make readers think about the importance forgiveness plays in our lives as we endeavor to live by the example Christ set for us. It is my hope I’ve succeeded on both counts.
Until the next story, may God bless and keep you.
Discussion Questions
Gabriella has evidence she thinks proves Eli cheated on her. She doesn’t want to forgive him until he tells her what he did and why. She wants to give him a chance to explain himself, but he refuses to do it. Does God expect her to forgive him anyway? Could you forgive him, if he were your fiancé? What does the Bible say about forgiveness?
Gabriella’s mother had an affair with another man, and her parents divorced. She blames her mother and can’t forgive her. Was it right for her father to divorce her mother for committing adultery? What does the Bible say about divorce? How is it viewed by society today? By the church?
Eli’s mother, Virginia, reveals to Gabriella that Xavier is not Eli’s father. She had an affair that resulted in her pregnancy with Eli. Xavier knows and he forgave Virginia. Could you forgive a spouse and accept his or her child as yours? Why or why not? What does God call you to do in this situation?
Gabriella feels responsible for her brother-in-law Paolo’s death and her sister’s quadriplegia because she served alcohol the night he died in a car accident in which he was the driver. Is she responsible, or is Natalie correct that as an adult Paolo was responsible for his own actions? What does the Bible say about alcohol? How does society view it? Do you believe avoiding alcohol is part of your Christian walk? Should it be?
Deacon and Natalie have different views on the role of journalists in reporting stories that affect the communities in which they live. Deacon feels people have a need to know what’s happening in order to make informed decisions. Natalie feels families shouldn’t be subjected to the publicity. How do you feel about journalists covering DUI accidents in which people are killed, funerals of police officers, or protests against elected leaders? Do you think journalists play an important role in daily life in your country?
After innumerable shootings with hundreds of innocent victims, the United States and its citizens struggle with the role of guns in our society. Our Second Amendment rights versus our right to be safe in schools, in churches, at concerts, and wherever we socialize. Is there a deeper issue facing humanity when we resort to violence to solve our differences? As Christians, how can we work toward peaceful resolutions to difficult, often highly volatile, differences?
One of the most divisive issues to surface during the writing of this book involved separating migrant children from their parents when they were apprehended crossing the border illegally. Chris and Eli touch on it briefly at the Sunshine Lounge. Do you believe Christians should have a different view on this issue than nonbelievers? What would Jesus have done? How do you reconcile your political views with your Christian beliefs, or do you think that is necessary in your faith walk?
Law enforcement officers who are Christians may not support the laws they are required to enforce. What would you do in their shoes if your beliefs were at odds with your job as a sworn officer?
Acknowledgments
Over the Line is a story that’s been percolating for years. I first started reading about gun smuggling into Mexico while still working in public relations. It took me back to my days as a reporter at the Laredo News and Laredo Morning Times in the early eighties. We were a scrappy bunch of journalists mostly from other parts of the country thrown together by our profession. We became a family. Those five years were among the best I’ve ever had. Young, full of ourselves, in love with journalism, and unencumbered by the realization that we would eventually get old and tired of low pay and terrible hours. Living on the border was a daily learning experience, like being embedded in another culture. I’m so thankful for the people I knew there and for what I learned about our multicultural heritage in this country. This book is dedicated to a small band of reporters with whom I sowed wild oats and managed to survive. I’m thankful for everyone of the Sky Lounge Thursday night pool crowd, but especially Joanne and Mike Cisneros, Larry Burns, Danny Hermosillo, and Shellee Bratton. Oh to be young again—or maybe not.
I also am indebted to Becky Monds for taking this chance on me in the romantic suspense genre and shepherding the book through the process of making it a better story. Where to cut and where to polish. Thank you, Becky, for your loving care. Thanks to Julee Schwarzburg for nitpicking the details into shape. Thank you for your patience. If you ever want to scream at my inattention to style, you never show it. My thanks to the entire HarperCollins Christian Publishing sales and marketing team for taking on the task of launching these books in a new genre (for me) and getting the book to a new audience. I so appreciate the effort. My special thanks to Allison Carter for working the publicity leads for Tell Her No Lies, which sets up the audience for this book and those to come.
As always, thanks to my agent Julie Gwinn for her feedback and support. To my husband, Tim, you are the best.
To my readers, thank you. Without you, none of this would be possible. Keep reading. Keep imagining. Keep delving into new worlds. They’re the best kind.
Finally, thanks to my Lord and Savior, who makes all things possible, even when I don’t deserve it.
Spanish Glossary
abuelo: grandpa
abuelita: granny
antojitos: snacks
aquí estamos: here we are
arroz con frijoles: rice with beans
cabrito: little goat (type of meat)
cállate: shut up (command)
cálmate: calm down (command)
café con leche: coffee with milk
carne asada: thinly sliced grilled beef
carne guisada: stewed meat
carnita: braised pulled pork
cerveza: beer
chancla: flip-flop
chiminea: free-sta
nding, portable fireplace, usually used in backyards
chiquita (o): little girl or boy
claro que sí: of course
¿Cómo te va?: How are you doing?
con la policia de San Antonio: with the police from San Antonio
corazón: heart
dime: tell me
Dios te ama: God loves you.
ejército: army
ese: slang for homeboy
familia: family
frijoles: beans
gracias: thank you
guero: slang for blond or light-skinned man
hermano: brother
hija: daughter
hijo: son
mamá: mom
mata-policía: kill police (nickname for particular bullet)
mentirosa: liar
mi amigo: my friend
mi amor: my love
m’ijo: contraction for mi hijo, my son
m’hijita: contraction for mi hija, my daughter
nada: nothing
no llores: don’t cry (command)
n’ombre: contraction for no hombre: No, man. Slang
No pisar el cesped: Don’t step on the grass.
No hablo español muy bien: I don’t speak Spanish very well.
No vi nada: I did not see anything.
pachanga: party
paletas: popsicles
papí: daddy
pastel de tres leches: three milk cake
pico de gallo: chunky Mexican salsa
pollo con calabaza: chicken with squash
por favor: please
¿Por qué?: Why?
primo (a): cousin
qué bella: how beautiful
¿Qué haces?: What are you doing?
¿Qué pasó?: What happened?
querida: dear, sweetheart, literally “loved”
ranchera: a style of traditional Mexican music
rubio: blond
señor: sir
