Once home, Chrissy ran inside, and sure enough, the Liahona model she’d made from a Styrofoam ball, Popsicle sticks, glitter, spray paint, and bric-a-brac was lying on the table. “It does look like a Christmas ornament,” she admitted as she picked it up and headed back to her car.
She was on the bottom step, scowling at her mangy lawn and wondering if she should just gravel it over completely, when something down the street caught her eye. She looked to her left, to Livvy’s perfectly manicured, postage-stamp lawn—she even had flowers in the flower beds—and froze. A man was hauling a box out of Livvy’s house and loading it into the back of a pickup truck. Was Livvy being robbed? In the middle of a Sunday afternoon? She watched for another moment until Livvy came out, carrying a garbage sack. Chrissy’s stomach sank.
It was worse than being robbed.
Livvy must have seen Chrissy marching toward her because she paused mid-stride, then brought her foot down and stumbled forward. She caught herself, but Chrissy had almost reached her by then. The man was back inside.
“What are you doing?” Chrissy asked, the panic in her voice impossible to hide.
Livvy continued to the bed of the truck and put the garbage sack inside it. Her thick black hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she was dressed in jeans and a black top Chrissy had sewn her for Christmas. Her wide hazel eyes showed her discomfort as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Livvy had the kind of figure Chrissy had always wanted—tall and willowy rather than short and squat. Unfortunately, being as beautiful as she was had gotten Livvy into a great deal of trouble and seemed to be doing it again. “I was going to tell you tonight,” she said, turning to face Chrissy but avoiding her eyes. “We’re, uh, moving in with Doug.”
Chrissy froze, then crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw. “Oh, really? You’ve known this guy for a few months and you’re moving in with him? Never mind that you have a house of your own and three children!”
Livvy continued to look at the ground. “Doug works with me at the hospital. He does maintenance,” she said as if that explained everything. “And we’ve been talking about this for a long time. A couple weeks ago a realtor friend of his said now was a great time to sell. I knew you’d freak out if I told you so I—”
“Are you out of your mind, Livvy?” Chrissy said, taking Livvy’s arm with her free hand and shaking her. “You are not really doing this.”
“I was going to tell you tonight,” she said again, as if the upsetting part was finding out about it in the afternoon instead of later today.
“Do the kids know?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d tell all of you when you got home.”
Movement on the porch caught Chrissy’s eye, and she looked up to see the man—Doug, she assumed—coming their way. She’d avoided meeting him, praying that the relationship between him and Livvy wouldn’t last long.
“Move it.” His words were rude, but his tone was light. Chrissy stood there looking at him, wishing she had a frying pan to hit him upside the head with. Maybe he’d be easier to knock some sense into than Livvy was.
“Move!” he said more sharply. Chrissy complied, more out of surprise than anything else. She had to let go of Livvy, and as he passed by, she took a good look at him. He was white and wore an auto parts T-shirt tucked into the waistband of his skinny-man jeans. Scuffed and faded cowboy boots were a perfect match for the faded chew can-shaped mark on his back pocket. The man was a walking redneck cliché, except for his striking face. Bright green eyes and a perfectly shaped jaw. Livvy had always been a sucker for a good-looking man. Chrissy, however, was not. As soon as he passed between them, Chrissy looked at her sister again.
“Creo que no estás pensando con la cabeza,” she said—I think you’re out of your mind.
“Él me quiere,” Livvy countered—He loves me.
“Estás embarazada?”—Are you pregnant?
“No!” Livvy said. Now she was mad.
“Ain’t good manners to speak so as other people can’t understand ya,” Doug said as he came up and draped one overly-tanned arm across Livvy’s shoulder. He had a tattoo of the Ford symbol on his forearm. Chrissy looked between the two of them, then held her sister’s eyes, thinking, rather than saying out loud, how horrible this was.
“You must be Christy,” Doug said. He smiled, and it was every bit as beautiful as Chrissy would have guessed. Dazzling even.
Chrissy glared at him and his loveliness.
“I’m Doug.”
“You’re trash,” Chrissy said, because that’s exactly what she thought, and she saw no reason not to be perfectly honest with him. He didn’t seem fazed by her assessment at all, which only proved he was also an idiot. Chrissy continued, cutting off Livvy who had opened her mouth to defend him somehow. “Livvy has three children. How could you ask her to do this?”
Doug shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair—perfectly disheveling it. “We love each other,” Doug said. “And people in love ought to be together. Besides, we can get enough from this house to pay off my truck and the tractor both.”
She was selling her house and putting the money into his things? I’m being punked, Chrissy thought to herself, staring at her sister and this mutant hick and wondering what planet she was on. This has got to be a joke. She’d seen a TV show once where an actor played the part of the most annoying fiancé in history. If the family didn’t catch on, they got like a million dollars. But she was just being optimistic to think that’s what was happening here. This was real—and exactly something Livvy would do, at least the old Livvy would. Chrissy thought her sister had learned a thing or two since then. She looked at her sister. “¿En seria?”—Are you serious?
“No Spanish,” Doug said, making a face. Just then, Hector, the neighborhood guy who’d had a crush on Livvy for years, drove by in his low-rider truck. It thumped as he passed. He waved at them as if Livvy didn’t have another man draped all over her.
Doug watched the truck and laughed. “Know why Mexicans like them low-rider trucks?” he asked, grinning like a fool and not waiting for an answer. Chrissy’s whole body tensed. “They make it easier for them to pick cabbages.” He laughed again, then leaned in to kiss Livvy on the temple before heading back inside.
Chrissy could only stare at her sister, her stomach tight. Livvy was looking at the sidewalk. She wasn’t going to react at all? What had happened to the part of her sister’s brain that had once made rational decisions?
“He doesn’t mean it bad,” Livvy defended. “He’s just trying to be funny.”
Chrissy had never felt such disappointment in her little sister. Was not having a man that impossible? When she spoke her voice was softer, the anger having given way for the absolute sorrow. “That’s what you want for your kids, huh?”
Livvy looked away and rubbed her arm. “I’m not moving until next weekend, and we’ll drive the kids to school so they can finish up the year. Doug had the day off and so we thought we’d get a head start while you had the kids at church.” She looked back at Chrissy, her eyes begging for understanding. “Once you get to know him, Chrissy, you’ll see he’s a really good guy. And he treats me better than anyone I’ve ever been with.”
Chrissy’s brain was on the verge of explosion. “He just told a Mexican joke in front of two Mexicans!”
“He doesn’t mean it that way,” Livvy said, waving it off. “And he says I don’t even look like a Mexican. Not really.”
“That makes it better? That you don’t look like a cabbage-picking Mexican? What about Rosa and the boys? They look Mexican. What kind of jokes will he tell in front of them?”
Livvy’s mouth tightened. “You don’t understand. He makes me feel—”
“Well, you’re right about that. I don’t understand this at all. After all the chaos you have gone through—and put your kids through—I cannot believe you would do this. I thought you were smarter than that.” Chrissy turned on her heel before she started to
scream or cry.
This couldn’t be real, and yet, it was. She whimpered slightly as she thought of what this meant. Livvy, gone? The kids, gone? How would Rosa and the boys ever learn about marriage and commitment and values if they were raised with this?
Her head tingled with an emotional buildup she didn’t dare release. How could this be happening?
It wasn’t until she got back in her car that she remembered her Primary class was likely waiting for her by now—including Carlos and Nathan, who had no idea the sharp left turn their mother had taken in their lives. The differences between Chrissy and Livvy had never been so stark. She felt sick, betrayed, and so very, very sad.
Chapter 21
San Diego, California
Thursday, May 15
Chressaidia pulled into the Burger King parking lot. She was meeting with one of Frederico’s dealers—Eduardo Algra. Frederico hadn’t let her do anything in the weeks following her arrest and the baby’s death, but he’d finally relented. His father wanted his trade lines increased and Frederico didn’t want to do it himself. Chressaidia had volunteered and he’d acted as if he were doing her a favor to let her be involved. Little did he know the plans she had for the little bit of power he’d given her.
Eduardo’s territory covered six blocks of downtown San Diego, and he seemed to be a reliable dealer, but they had never met. She scanned the building and finally saw him leaning against the south wall, watching her. The Lakers shirt he wore was the only indication he was the guy she was looking for. He was tall, with short hair and glasses—clean-cut rather than rough-looking. Nothing like she’d expected, which put her immediately on guard. She pulled her car into a parking space, and he walked over to her and slid into the passenger seat.
“You’re Frederico’s chica?” he asked, looking her over.
She wouldn’t answer; she just stared at him. Was this a setup? Was he a cop? The other dealers she’d met with had looked the part, acted the part, and with the promise of receiving a larger cut of the profits, were more than happy to go over Frederico’s head and look to her as their authority. But there was something different about this guy. Chressaidia didn’t like surprises.
He held her eyes as the silence elongated, until finally he let out a breath and shook his head. “You’re just like him, aren’t you?” he said in Spanish, reaching into his pocket for a roll of cash. She watched his every move as he turned to face her, holding out the money. “You’re looking for junkies—guys who live on the beach and spend every other night in jail. I’m not that kind of dealer. Now Freddie’s sending some chica to do his trades, and she’s looking at me like I’m some stupid kid.” He leaned toward her. “I spent more than a year in your jungles,” he hissed, his dark eyes burning with indignation. “I saw what was happening there, and I joined up with Freddie to do my part to help his people—my people—find freedom. I knew weeks ago that Freddie was using, and that meant everything was going to fall apart.”
He threw the money into her lap and put his hand on the door handle. “I’m not supporting freedom anymore. I’m supporting Freddie’s newest habit, and now he’s sending some girl to do his dirty work. Some girl who probably doesn’t have any idea how big this is.”
He got out of the car but leaned back inside to deliver a few final words. “Tell Freddie I’ll find another way to support his little army.” He slammed the door and stalked away. Eduardo didn’t look back.
Chressaidia followed him with her eyes, reviewing his words. He knew about the army? He was a sympathizer with their mission? Frederico hadn’t said anything about that.
Once Eduardo turned the corner of the building, she stowed the cash in the jockey box before picking up her phone and dialing the number for Carbon, the dealer in Imperial Beach. She’d met with him on several occasions and trusted him as much as she trusted anyone.
“Do you know Eduardo Algra?” she asked when he answered.
“Sure, college-looking kid up in Old Town. Sells to the University crowd. I’ve met with him a couple times when Frederico couldn’t get up there.”
“Is he reliable?”
Carbon snorted. “Yeah, he’s built up a good line far as I can tell.”
“How long has he been in the trade?”
“Almost a year now.”
“And he’s not a cop?”
Carbon laughed. “A cop? That kid? Algra plays to his audience, but he sure ain’t no cop. His mama’s Guatemalan like Freddie—and you, too, I guess. I think dealing makes him feel closer to his cartel roots.” He laughed at his own joke.
Chressaidia turned the car around and started heading in the direction Eduardo had taken. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” she said to Carbon and hung up. Two blocks later she saw Eduardo walking down the sidewalk. He might be just the person she was looking for.
Chapter 22
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Micah heard someone pull into his gravel driveway and looked at the clock as he removed another fact sheet from his file. After each loan closed, he typed up a fact sheet on the customer and filed it. When work got slow he could call past clients to see if they were interested in refinancing. He absolutely hated making those calls—hated begging for more work—and yet work had slowed down and he hadn’t quite caught up with his bills. A car door opened and shut. Blake was at school for another hour and a half so Micah wasn’t sure who it could be.
The doorbell rang a few seconds later and when he pulled the door open a few seconds after that, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. His ex-wife, Natalie, stood there, the expression on her face showing how uncomfortable she was being on his front porch. A light, but cold, rain was falling, and she shivered under the leather jacket that matched her boots.
“Hi, Micah,” she said, trying to smile, but it wouldn’t stick to her highly-glossed lips for more than a moment. She lifted a manicured hand to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear. “Can I come in and talk to you?”
He couldn’t remember the last time she’d come to talk to him in person—had she ever? Since the divorce, if she ever needed to talk to him, she called. Now and then she’d asked him to come over to her house so they could discuss an issue in person. He moved aside so she could enter. After he shut the door behind her, he motioned toward the couch and settled himself into his recliner, watching her intently. She held her hands in her lap and kept her back perfectly straight.
“Dennis and I are having some trouble,” she said after a few awkward seconds. “Things are really tense right now.”
Micah waited for her to add the part where this involved him. When it didn’t come, he figured he ought to say something. “I don’t think your marriage is any of my business.”
She nodded. “It’s just that a lot of the trouble is related to . . . money and the kids.”
Money? Dennis always made a point of advertising how well he did. Then again, Natalie was a professional-level spender, so it wasn’t too far-fetched that she could burn through his money the way she’d once run through Micah’s. “The kids as in our kids, or the kids as in yours and Dennis’s kids?”
“Our kids,” Natalie said. “Kayla wants to go on a study abroad, but it costs almost five thousand dollars. Mallory’s on that dance team, and it seems like that’s costing hundreds of dollars every month. My kids—I mean, Dennis and my kids—are getting older, and raising five is taking a lot out of us. Then there’s the tension with Blake, and the tension between you and me, and things are just so crazy.” Her chin trembled but, if anything, Micah felt himself becoming more defensive. She’d spent years manipulating him with her tears and her “Poor Natalie” games. He was not inclined to give in to her, yet he wasn’t so hard-hearted as to not have any sympathy.
“I can imagine things are pretty crazy,” he said. “Things are hard to keep up with here too.”
She grunted slightly. “You’ve only got Blake.”
He stiffened, then took a long deep breath. He needed to stay calm. She’d come here for a reason, and he ne
eded to get to it. But he hated that he was always on the defensive with her. “Don’t talk down my problems, okay? It’s not fair and it’s not helpful. What are you doing here?” He was sorely tempted to tell her about the identity theft and the resulting chaos, but resisted. Opening up to her had never been safe.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. She went quiet. Micah took a minute to look at her. She was getting older—she’d be forty next month. The lines around her eyes were deeper, the skin on her face thinner. She wore more makeup than she used to and her hair was a very natural-looking strawberry blonde, except Micah knew she was a natural brunette. She was still a beautiful woman and, despite the lingering animosity between them, he was sad that she was having problems with Dennis. He’d thought they were a perfect fit, making Micah just a speed bump in Natalie’s journey toward happiness. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have another marriage teetering and for a moment was grateful he’d not faced that issue.
“I need a favor,” Natalie said, looking up and meeting his eyes. “That’s why I came. Could Mallory come stay with you until your summer visitation time starts in June?”
“Before school gets out?”
Natalie looked down. “There’s a bus from her school that comes out here, and she could take that for the last few weeks.”
Micah let out a breath and reached up to scratch his head as an excuse to stall while he put his thoughts together. He was still getting used to having Blake around so much, but instantly felt guilty for being selfish. He’d played Dad a few days a month for most of his children’s lives while Natalie had taken on the lion’s share of parenting.
“Of course she can come stay here,” Micah said after a few seconds. “Are you sure that’s the best solution though?”
Relief softened Natalie’s face. “She likes it here, and I really think that Dennis and I need more time with just the four of us, ya know, to be a family.”
Micah bit back a sharp retort. And Mallory was the expendable one? Natalie almost made it sound as if Mallory was the reason for all the problems, that having her leave would make it all better. But he didn’t want to make things worse, and he didn’t want Mallory to be somewhere she wasn’t wanted.
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