Her Good Name

by Josi S. Kilpack

  She was packing a bag when another pain came, this one causing her to bend forward over the bed. She clenched her teeth and willed it to go away, then moved faster, trying to push away the panic. When her mother had given birth to her, she was hours away from her own death. But she hadn’t been alone, and she’d already borne three other children. Chressaidia knew nothing of what was ahead. Her ignorance terrified her.

  She threw a nightdress and some underwear into her bag, as well as a red-and-yellow woven blanket to wrap the baby in. The red represented the blood and heritage of her people; the yellow represented the illumination her child would help bring to his country. She had made the blanket herself, on a backstrap loom in the Antigua mountains before she prepared for her journey here. And though she was not a sentimental person, her heritage defined her as her son’s heritage would define him. Perhaps by the time he was grown, he would run the government of Guatemala instead of fighting against it.

  She looked at the clock and walked carefully into the foyer of the beach house. What if Frederico wasn’t coming? He’d told her to wait for him, and she’d agreed that would be best. Yet, now she was feeling foolish and hated the dependency. After a few minutes, and another pain—they were only minutes apart now—she pulled open the door. She’d spent the last few weeks driving around the area, finding Frederico’s dealers, making introductions. She could find the hospital. Even if the idea of driving in her condition frightened her, at least she could use Frederico’s neglect against him in the future.

  She closed the door and hurried as fast as she could to the parking garage where her car was waiting—a silver Toyota she’d bought right after her arrival. As she slid awkwardly behind the wheel, another contraction seized her and a warm rush from between her legs announced with even more certainty that her time was short. With shallow breaths, she put the key in the ignition and swallowed her fear. This was her role; it was her mission. And it was only the beginning.

  Chapter 15

  Idaho Falls, Idaho

  Micah stood on Cam and Amanda’s porch and rang the doorbell. Mallory had spent Saturday morning at their house while Micah worked on a loan that absolutely had to close next week. He hated working on the weekends, especially when Mallory was there, but he was doing everything he could to keep his head above water these days and putting in a sixty-hour workweek was only one part of the equation.

  The front door swung open to reveal Cam—his home teacher.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here,” Cam said, holding the door open and inviting Micah inside. “I’ll holler for Mallory to dry off—they ended up in a water fight—but can you help me with something?”

  “Sure,” Micah said.

  “It’s so stupid,” Cam said as Micah followed him into the kitchen. Cam opened the back door and yelled to Mallory that her dad was there while Micah assessed the situation. The cupboard under the sink was empty except for a detached garbage disposal. The dish soap, kitchen cleaner, and an array of sponges and rags littered the floor in no semblance of order. Cam lay down on his back and scooted until his head, neck, and shoulders were inside the cupboard. He lifted the disposal off the cupboard floor as Micah got down on his knees and poked his head into the small space next to Cam. The cupboard smelled like mildew and Lysol.

  “Okay,” Cam said, turning the disposal slightly. “I can get the connection lined up until right about . . . here, but I can’t hold it up to tighten it.”

  “You want me to hold or tighten then?”

  “Uh,” Cam said. “Hold.”

  Micah nodded and within a few minutes they were done. They both got up and Micah washed his hands in the sink.

  “Thanks,” Cam said, stretching his arms and back. “Amanda’s been after me for weeks to get that fixed. The gasket was shredded and leaking.”

  Micah was rinsing his hands when he looked out the window into the backyard. Mallory was on the patio, drying off with a towel, but her eyes were following the water fight still in progress. Amanda sat reading something at the picnic table, and a passel of kids chased each other on the grass. His hands stilled in the running water when he recognized Chrissy. He’d only met her once, after all, and that had been months ago, but his stomach flip-flopped anyway.

  Chrissy was embroiled in the heart of the battle. If not for the fact that she wasn’t in a swimsuit, he’d have likely thought she was one of the children. No, he corrected himself, in a swimsuit it likely would have been far more obvious that she was a full-grown, well put-together woman.

  What is she doing here? The feelings from all those months ago rose up. As time had passed, he’d forgotten what he liked about that evening and simply thought of her as the last date. Last as in final, as in the straw that broke the back of the camel named “maybe I’ll find someone.” In his mind that night had become a symbol of why dating was off his radar. And yet, he couldn’t help but watch her.

  She wore short Levi pants that came down to the middle of her calf—they had some kind of special name but he couldn’t remember, Cappies or something. She also had on a red-and-white polka-dot blouse. Her hair was gathered into a thick knot on top of her head, and she was dripping wet as she ran after a small Mexican boy. She caught him around the waist and wrestled him to the ground. Micah could just hear the sounds of squealing laughter through the window. After a few seconds she let the boy go, but remained prostrate on the ground, smiling, laughing. Micah could only stare, not liking how beautiful she looked or that he’d noticed at all.

  “Dad, do I have to go?”

  Micah turned to Mallory, her wet hair clumped and sticking to her face. Her shorts and T-shirt were completely soaked, and she held a towel around her shoulders. She’d be fourteen in a few weeks. How had that happened so fast? She’d only been a toddler when he and Natalie had split up.

  “It’s almost two o’clock,” he said. “You’ve been here most of the day.”

  “Please?” Mallory whined, bouncing up and down slightly on the balls of her feet.

  “Ah, let her stay,” Cam said, throwing soaps and sponges back into the cupboard; Amanda would be thrilled with his organizational skills. “There’s a bunch of kids out there. We won’t even notice her.”

  Micah looked back out the window. This time, Chrissy was being chased by three or four children. She was fast, and now that her wet clothes were clinging a bit tighter, Micah noticed her curves were in all the right places. He felt his cheeks heat up at having put it into words, even if only in his mind.

  “Please, Daddy?” Mallory asked again, bringing his thoughts back to the kitchen. Her eyes were pleading and therefore looked twice their natural size. It had been beautiful weather all week. Today was one of the warmest days they’d had all year and everyone knew the break in the weather wouldn’t last very long.

  “Well, I—”

  “It’s really okay as far as we’re concerned,” Cam said, standing up and surveying his work before kicking the cupboard closed, a smug smile on his face. Micah knew he couldn’t wait to boast about his disposal-fixing success to Amanda. “She can stay as long as you want. I did the soccer game circuit this morning, so we’re home for the rest of the day. Besides, other kids keep ours from demanding so much of our attention.”

  Micah looked back at Mallory. “Go ahead.”

  Mallory brightened, dropped her towel in the middle of the floor, and disappeared. Micah looked out the window expecting to watch Mallory re-enter the battle, but his eyes were drawn to Chrissy instead. She dove under the trampoline and crawled out the other side, circling back to the hose and picking it up. The screams of the kids came through the window. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. There was just something about her.

  “Micah?” Cam asked, watching him.

  Micah tore his eyes away from Chrissy. “Well, I’d better go,” he said with a smile. He managed one more glance out the window in time to see Mallory dump a bucket of water over Chrissy’s head. She jumped, dropped the hose, and turned on Mallor
y, whose long legs made her escape a quick one. A dark-haired girl who looked to be about Mallory’s age, picked up the hose and got Chrissy in the back. The wet shirt clung to Chrissy’s curves even more. Micah swallowed.

  Cam took over the position at the sink. Micah grabbed a paper towel and turned his back to the window so he wouldn’t be tempted to look anymore. The Sunday after Micah had said he’d think about calling Chrissy, Cam asked him about it. Micah had said he’d thought it over and decided against it; he wasn’t in a position to have a relationship, so there was no sense in pursuing a bad start. Cam didn’t push it. He must have said something to Amanda because she’d never said anything about it either.

  After Blake moved in, Micah began going to church every week. Blake played ward basketball, got the job at Pizza Hut, made a few friends, and was doing great. Micah had even been called into Scouting last month. A lot had changed since the phone call he’d never made.

  “Thanks again,” Cam said, looking out the window just as Micah had done. He paused, then turned, a knowing look in his eye and a hesitant smile on his lips as he seemed to realize why the window had drawn so much of Micah’s attention.

  Micah didn’t give him a chance to say anything about it. He threw his paper towel in the garbage can and hurried toward the front door before the moment became even more awkward. But the image of a dripping wet, smiling Chrissy was relentless.

  “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” he said, reviewing all the things he needed to do at home today. “Thanks for letting Mallory stay.”

  Chapter 16

  Whew!” Chrissy slid onto the picnic table bench and tried to catch her breath. “Good thing I wore waterproof mascara today,” she said with sarcastic sincerity as huge drops of water dripped from her hair, now tightly curled. She reached up and removed the elastic so she could redo her bun. The dark, wet tendrils fell halfway down her back. She scooped up her hair in one hand, twisted it on top of her head, and secured it with the elastic once again. Then she grabbed a napkin from the leftover Happy Meals and dabbed it on her face. The napkin was soon covered with foundation and eye shadow—all non-waterproof, apparently.

  The weather was such a relief, a day of summer amid a spring that was stubbornly refusing to release its hold. When Amanda and Cam had moved in about six years ago, they had lined the cedar fence with lilac bushes and now the shrubs were tall and seemed to cocoon the yard in blessed green. The blossoms would open in another few weeks, turning the yard into an even stronger haven, soaked in the scent of flowers. Chrissy’s yard, on the other hand, stood as a tribute to naturalism. She mowed, now and again, but the weeds had taken over the grass years ago. She wasn’t big on working in the dirt like Cam and Amanda were. Even Livvy tended a few rosebushes. Zealots; the whole lot of them.

  Amanda eyed her with amusement. “You are such a child,” she said, shaking her head and sending her new haircut—a chin-length bob—brushing against her jaw. It looked nice, but maybe a little too soccer-Mom for Chrissy’s tastes. “Hasn’t anyone told you to act your age?”

  “Ah, but which age?” Chrissy said, lifting one eyebrow. “The age written on your birth certificate, or the age written on your face?” She lifted her chin and moved it from side to side, using her hands to frame it. “Just last week the woman at the Clinique counter told me I have the skin of a college girl.”

  “And what was she selling?” Amanda asked, dipping a cold fry in a smeary blob of ketchup.

  “To me?” Chrissy said with a hand on her chest. “Nothing. You know me better than that. I just go for the free facials and makeup tips.” She turned around and watched the kids, who were still spraying one another with the water guns she’d made out of surgical tubing and clothespins—86 cents apiece. Amanda provided lunch; Chrissy provided the weaponry.

  One of Amanda’s neighbors, Mallory, was close to Rosa’s age, and the two seemed to have hit it off. Chrissy was glad. Rosa wasn’t very social, carefully approaching new people as if afraid to expect too much. In fact, she hadn’t even wanted to get wet today. But Mallory had convinced her that they could join forces against Trevor and his friend. At one point Cam had said it was time for Mallory to go home, but she must have used her pretty blue eyes to their best advantage because she came back out a few minutes later. She was a cute girl.

  Chrissy turned back to Amanda, eager to brag about her latest find. “I did, however, find an entire eight yards of green terry cloth at a yard sale last week for three bucks—ten percent the price the Clinique woman wanted to charge me for just one lipstick—ay, ay, ay. I’m going to make Rosa a swimsuit cover and maybe a robe.”

  “Cam would give his left arm for me to have half your domestic skills.”

  Chrissy made an exaggerated motion of flipping her hair—despite it being caught up in a bun on top of her head—and gave Amanda a movie-star smile. “Gracias, Señorita,” she breathed, batting her eyelashes. “I do try.” In truth, she’d been raised in an environment where learning to cook and sew and take care of your own home wasn’t a hobby; it was survival. As an adult, she took great satisfaction in making something great out of something so little. Amanda, on the other hand, filled her time with PTA and book groups rather than traditional homemaking. All good things, but different from Chrissy’s perspective. However, their differing interests ensured they always had a lot to talk about.

  “So how’s the unemployed life going?” Amanda asked. “Are you loving it?”

  “Absolutely,” Chrissy said, letting herself bask in the glorious three weeks she’d had. “But I’m actively pursuing the quest to find yet another grindstone to put my nose to.” She sighed dramatically and looked at her friend. “Poor me,” she said with sarcasm and a pouty look.

  “I thought you were taking a few months off?”

  Chrissy shrugged. “Well, I’ve managed to catch up on nearly all the projects I’d planned to do, and it’s killing me to live off my savings. Maybe I’ve grown out of these vacations of mine. I put in an application with Bedis last week.”

  “Bedis?” Amanda repeated, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “That’s like . . . career work.”

  “I know,” Chrissy said, shaking her head as if disappointed in her own conformity. “It’s wacky weird stuff for me, but I think I need to start planning my future. You know, get a 401K, sick leave, maybe a free turkey at Thanksgiving. I was with Almo for almost four years, longer than any other job, and it was kind of nice until that dingbat took over.”

  “Bedis is a great company to work for, but they don’t give out free turkeys.” Amanda spoke from experience, since Cam was one of the many engineers who worked at the nuclear test facility. The site was located about thirty miles out of town and employed over five thousand residents of Idaho Falls, Rexburg, and Shelley, through various companies contracted with it. “Cam said that the background checks on engineers are thirteen months out right now. All the Homeland Security issues have made the government clearances an absolute nightmare. Did they say how long the wait would be for you to even hear back?”

  Chrissy shook her head. The closer you actually worked with the nuclear waste or sensitive documents, the more in-depth the application process. Chrissy had applied to be in Office Management, located in Idaho Falls, but the position still required a detailed poke and prod into her past. If she’d thought there was anything at all to hide, she wouldn’t have bothered. But other than a somewhat eclectic work history, she couldn’t think of anything that would stand out.

  “They said it would only be a few weeks, since I want to work in the city. The pay’s better if I get clearance to work at the site later, but the days would be longer because of the commute.” She paused before continuing. “Lupe’s been sending me more dress orders. I wish I could make a living off that, but there are no benefits to consignment seamstress work.”

  “That stinks,” Amanda said.

  Chrissy shrugged and lifted the wet fabric of her shirt off her skin. It made a squelching sound, and she smil
ed, disappointed the boys weren’t close enough to laugh at the sound with her. “What are ya gonna do?” she said, then turned around, leaning her back against the table and watching the water fight.

  The older kids were playing King of the Hill—on the trampoline—and Rosa and Mallory were the current rulers, squirting the boys in the face every time they tried to get over the metal frame. Rosa’s water gun was almost empty; a real battle would soon ensue. “You gonna get in there and pretend you remember how to have fun?” Chrissy asked, sending a sparring look over her shoulder.

  “You really get into this stuff, don’t you?”

  Chrissy laughed. “I might not be able to find a man willing to put up with me, but kids are a whole ’nother story.”

  The comment fell flat as Amanda’s face showed her insecurity about finding the right response and the obvious loomed heavy between them. Without a man Chrissy would never have children of her own. It wasn’t the first time such thoughts had intruded on her attempts to find peace, but it stung a little more than usual on a day like today—when she was enjoying other people’s children so much.

  Amanda recovered and saved the moment by making a face and responding to Chrissy’s earlier request. “Getting blasted in the face with ice-cold hose water is hardly my idea of fun.” She picked up the magazine she’d been reading and snapped it open. “I’ll read about cooking with tofu, thank you very much.”

  Chapter 17

  San Diego, California

  Jon Nasagi looked at the chart and read the patient’s name, Chressaidia Josefina Salazar, then looked at her lying in the hospital bed. She didn’t act as though he were there at all. She was turned toward the wall, her back facing him. He tried again.