by Tia Louise
This plan makes my stomach hurt, but I know it’s the right thing to do. If we’re ever going to make peace with our families, we have to do this the right way.
“Just try. I’ll fix this, and we can plan our wedding.”
“Maybe some things can’t be fixed.”
Leaning closer, I kiss her temple, taking a hit off her sexy scent. “Trust me.”
“I want to, but I’m not sure I can anymore.” She exhales heavily. “I didn’t mention this… Mateo is waiting for you in Plano. With a gun.”
“Shit.” Stepping back, I rub my forehead. Waiting for me? “What does that mean?”
“He said shooting Beto can’t go unanswered.” She shakes her head. “It’s stupid. Beto’s going to be okay… I’ll make him talk to Mateo. Stop him.”
She zips her suitcase closed, and I lift it off the bed, hating the fact she’s leaving, hating the idea of her not being with me all the time. Hating the idea a guy’s waiting for me with a gun—what the fuck?
We walk slowly to her car, and I put the suitcase in the trunk. “Look at me.” I catch her arm.
She slams the trunk. “I am looking at you.” Her eyes meet mine, and her voice is soft, determined. “I’ve only ever looked at you. I’ve only ever trusted you.”
Her words hit me straight in the heart. “I said I wouldn’t let you down, and I won’t. I love you. You’re my wife.”
Stepping closer, she rests her forehead against my cheek. A moment passes, and her hands go around my waist.
She speaks softly, like we did at the monument, at Jesus’s feet. “I love you… I love you… I love you.”
Leaning down, I kiss her with all the promises I’ve made, all the promises I have inside of me waiting to be made. “Now and forever.”
Fire burns in my belly to fight for us, to protect what we have. Our world isn’t ending, it’s only beginning, and I defy anyone who tries to keep us apart. I want to bring this family together, but not at the cost of losing us.
As much as I hate it, maybe some promises can’t be kept…
22
Angel
“I trust your family situation has improved?” Winnie sits on the chaise across from me, a book in her hand, watching me closely.
“Mm…” My brush pauses as I think about her question.
I rushed back to make an appearance at her house today. After Friday, I didn’t want her to think I’m lazy or my family life is too sordid for me to continue. Despite what Deacon says, I’m not giving her any reason to doubt or stereotype me.
“The situation has changed.”
“And your brother?”
I haven’t called Valeria, but Lourdes said Beto would be going home tomorrow. I haven’t heard anything about Mateo, which worries me.
“He’s better, thank you.”
She situates herself on the couch with a grunting noise, and I return to the deep brown and green of the bookcase behind her. I added highlights to her dress, I finished the cat. Now I’m looking at her profile on canvas thinking this woman is my family. Mi familia.
My eyes narrow as I consider this new reality.
Before coming here, I stopped at New Hope to transfer my one suitcase to Lourdes’s car. We talked on the drive back, and she agreed to let me sleep on her couch for now. She told me everyone has been talking about what happened with Beto, and they’ve all been speculating over where I was this weekend.
“What the fuuuu….” She almost had a cow when she saw the ring on my finger.
It’s beautiful, a peach-oval diamond in a rose gold setting with diamond-baguette daisies on both sides of the band. Smiling, my hand goes to my chest, and I feel it where it hangs on a chain inside my shirt. I was not expecting a ring or a wedding, of promises. I’m engaged… We exchanged vows.
The entire weekend was magical and beautiful.
But as frustrated as I was with him wanting to go back in the closet, I realize looking at the woman sitting across from me, he’s right. All the pent-up emotions, the binary thinking—if we moved in together, it would only fuel their hatred.
The base of the bookcase is complete, and I step back. “I’ll stop here and let this dry. Tomorrow I can add the spines. If there are any favorite books you’d like me to add, let me know.”
Winnie sets her book aside and walks over to inspect my work. I collect my brushes and wipe them down before dipping them in fast-drying saffron oil for the night. I’ll give them a more thorough cleaning when I’m finished.
“I like what you’ve done with this.” She circles her finger around the shading on her dress.
“Thank you.” I set the brushes aside and pick up my purse, ready to go.
“You’re different today.” She crosses her arms, studying me.
“Am I?” She has no idea.
Her arms drop, and she lets out an irritated huff before going to the door. “I’m glad your family is well. I wouldn’t want you to be unable to finish.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll finish.”
I’m right behind her at the door, but as soon as I step into the hall, the scent of onion from the kitchen hits my nose, and my throat closes. Oh, God, no. Saliva pools in my mouth, and I bite my upper lip until my eyes water. My hand covers my lips, and I pray I make it outside before she stops or decides she needs to tell me one last thing.
Bolting through the door leading from the hallway, I push through the servant’s entrance and make it behind the shrub just before I puke the finger sandwich I ate at New Hope before coming here.
“Oh, God.” I cough, my eyes flooding with tears.
I don’t have cool water or even a cloth to clean my face. Sniffing, I lightly tap the tears from under my eyes and hurry down the driveway towards my waiting car. Lourdes agreed to help me return it to Beto’s tonight, but first I have to take care of something on my own.
I’m in the Waffle House bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet, staring at a pink plus sign and realizing my life has completely changed.
It’s possible I’m in shock, because I don’t feel afraid or even anxious. A part of me welcomes this. I’m having Deacon’s baby. My stomach fills with butterflies, and my fingers flutter to the ring hanging from my neck. I slip it on, contemplating my next move.
I can’t tell Lourdes.
I can’t tell anyone until I tell Deacon.
He texted earlier saying he was at the land office with Rich. I love you. Call me when you’re done.
I’d read his words, but I haven’t had a chance to respond. I still have to finish my last errand involving my brother.
Standing, I cap the test and drop it in my purse. Then I throw everything away and wash up quickly before heading to my best friend’s house.
“Finally.” Lourdes meets me at the door, keys in hand. “I thought I was going to have to drive to the bitch’s house and save you.”
“You mean the witch’s house?”
“How’s that bridge over the rainbow going?”
She follows me out to the driveway, and I pause before getting in my ride. “Deacon says she likes me… But I’m not venturing over any rivers any time soon.”
“So it’s a bridge, but not a very reliable one?”
“Exactly.”
It’s twilight when we arrive at Beto’s mansion. Lourdes’s apartment is on the south side of town, near Valeria’s house where I spent my teen years. Beto lives in the rich part of town, where nobody knows their neighbors and the yards look like children never play in them.
My stomach tightens as we pull into the driveway, and I want to get out of here as fast as possible.
Leaving the car parked outside the garage, I put the keys in the glove compartment and jog to where Lourdes is waiting. “Let’s go.”
I’m just about to get in when a strong hand grips me by the arm. “Here you are.”
Beto stands behind me, and I twirl away, doing my best to get my arm out of his grasp. “You’re home early.”
“I don’t like hos
pitals.” His hold on my arm loosens, and I can tell he’s weak. He seems winded, but he’s still angry. “Where have you been?”
“None of your business.” My voice is low and cold. “You forfeited that right when you pulled a gun on Deacon.”
“I told you never to see him again. I told him never to come here.” Dark eyes flash at me. “He was trespassing in my home.”
“He was my guest.”
“He’s not allowed here.”
“Which is why I’m moving in with Lourdes.”
Beto’s jaw clenches, and he leans down to look at my friend through the window. I step between him and the car. “If you have a problem with it, talk to me.”
I won’t have him menacing my friend.
Straightening, he crosses his arms, looking down at me. “Go to Lourdes. I know where you are.”
“Call off Mateo.”
His brow lowers. “What does that mean?”
“He’s got a gun, and he’s hunting Deacon. I want you to make him stop.”
My brother huffs a laugh, and his arms drop. He turns and starts up the driveway, but at a slower pace than his usual forceful swagger.
“Beto!” I call after him. “Call off your dog.”
“Mateo does what he wants. I have no control over him.”
My heart beats faster as I watch him walk away. “If anything happens to Deacon, I’ll tell them you were responsible.”
Sickness is in my throat. I don’t like making such threats against my brother, but I have to keep the father of my baby safe.
He pauses, and without turning, calls to me. “And I’ll tell them how I was really shot.”
“You came at him with a gun.”
“He was a trespasser in my house.”
I’ve been dreaming of my baby, of Deacon’s face when I tell him, since I left the Waffle House bathroom, but now I’m afraid. I don’t know how to make my brother do what I want.
We’re in the car, and Lourdes watches me with wide eyes. “Mateo’s after Deacon?”
“Do you know where Mateo lives?”
She shakes her head no. “I met him for the first time after Beto came back. He came with him from Mexico.”
My head hurts, and my stomach is churning. I’ve got to get to a bathroom or I’m going to blow my cover in front of my bestie. Rolling down the window, I let the cool night air caress my forehead, and I wonder where Deacon is right now.
I need to get to him.
23
Deacon
“The oldest records we have in this building only go back twenty years.” The woman kneels before an open drawer in a long filing cabinet. “My guess is you need something older than that.”
She’s skinny, and her stringy, light-blonde hair is twisted in a little knot at the back of her head with a pencil stuck in it. She looks up at us through metal-rimmed glasses. I watch with frustration as her fingers crawl along the manila folders, occasionally pausing to open one.
“I’m actually surprised these are still here.” She lifts out another folder then drops it back. “The county gets rid of the old records on a yearly basis.”
“Gets rid of?” Rich takes a step forward. “What does that mean? Shreds?”
“They’re considered historical record, so they’re not shredded. They might as well be.” She straightens with an exhale. “They store everything in a warehouse off Tenth Street. It’s old, deteriorating. Rat-infested.”
Rich grimaces at me, but I’m excited.
I give him a nod, and he rubs his hand through his shaggy blond hair. He’s dressed in jeans and a polo shirt today, which means he hasn’t been in the office. I’m in jeans and a dark tee, and I’m not going anywhere until we get some answers.
“Would it be possible for us to go there and look around?” His tone is far more relaxed than mine would be.
The woman stands with a grunt, pushing the heavy file drawer closed. “You’ve got to have a license to poke around in there, or permission from court.”
We follow her back to the front of the building.
I can’t stand it anymore. “Aren’t those covered by Freedom of Information?”
“Some are. Some files are not. In the warehouse, they’re all together, and nobody’s there to make sure you’re not poking around in other people’s business.”
Rich exhales a laugh, leaning on his elbow on the front counter. “Aw, come on, Mary. You’ve known me long enough to trust me with other people’s business.”
She cocks her hip to the side and squints an eye first at me, then at him. “I wouldn’t go that far, but here’s what I’ll do.”
Pulling the pencil out of the knot at the back of her head, she reaches under the counter and takes out a small pad of forms. I watch her write tomorrow’s date, sign it and rip it off.
“This will get you inside for one day.” She holds it up towards Rich. “If you get caught with your nose where it’s not supposed to be, I’m going to deny ever giving it to you.”
“You just cost me three months of favors.” We’re out in the car, and Rich hands the pass over to me.
“It looks like a hall pass.”
“You’d better decide what you’re looking for, because you’ve got one day.”
Up to this point, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. “If the timelines add up, the swindle would’ve occurred sixty-five years ago.”
I’m thinking about the secret baby, the murder allegation… I’m sure it all happened around the same time.
“But you’re going to need proof the land ever belonged to Manuel Treviño, which means—”
“I’m going to have to go further back than that.” How far is the question.
“Needle in a haystack.”
“Maybe not.” If I calculate how old my grandfather would’ve been when he was able to start buying land, I can guess his then-best friend would’ve been doing the same.
“I’m sorry, I can’t join you tomorrow. I’m meeting with the guys about the El Paso work all day.”
I admit, I’m disappointed. I could use some help if this warehouse is as massive as it sounds, but I’m not giving up. “No way, man. You’ve helped me a lot. I appreciate it.”
He parallel parks outside the entrance to the Foster Building, and I give him a firm shake before getting out. “Thanks for this weekend.”
“No problem.” He winks. “I hope you made the most of it.”
I lean back before closing the door. “She said yes.”
“Yeah, she did!” He slaps my palm before shaking my hand. “Congrats. Now we’re getting somewhere. Now I understand why this is all so urgent.”
“It’s her family.” I rub a hand over my jaw. “She says she doesn’t care, but she will. If this is what it takes to make peace, I’m going to find it, and I’m going to fix it.”
“Captain America.”
“Ah.” I push him away. I don’t have time for his sarcasm.
“I’m serious. What’s that saying about fortune helping the pure in heart?”
“I think you made that up.”
He laughs. “Well, it sounds good. I believe in you.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
We say goodnight, and I’m across the sidewalk, pushing through the front doors as he pulls away. Waiting in the empty, glass-walled lobby for the elevator to descend, I fish my phone out of my pocket and shoot a quick text to Angel.
How’s the couch? Not too late if you want to come over…
My chest tightens. I can’t think of anything I’d love more than to curl up with my girl and sleep tonight. Among other things…
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as a shadow moves in the small sitting area across from the elevator. Angel’s warning about Mateo is on my mind, and I fall back, looking around quickly for anything I might use as a weapon.
My adrenaline kicks up, and I’m raising my fists when the streetlight falls across her face. “I made up an excuse to slip out
.”
“Angel.” We rush together.
I wrap her in my arms, and warmth surrounds my heart as the stress of this day melts away. The elevator dings, and we step inside, rising quickly to the penthouse suite. We’re across the foyer and into my room as we’re finishing our first sentences.
“I missed you so much.” I kiss the top of her head.
“I thought about you all day. How was your drive back?”
“Long. I wondered why I didn’t just follow you this morning.”
“You had to lock up the house, make sure we didn’t leave anything on.”
Inside my apartment, I lead her to the kitchen. “Wine?”
She climbs onto a barstool, hesitating before shaking her head no. “I’ll pass tonight.”
For a minute, it feels like she wants to tell me something, but she doesn’t. “How was my aunt? Bitter as ever?”
“Actually, she was nicer than usual.”
“Good.” I go to the refrigerator and pull open the door, taking out cheese and milk and eggs. “She’d better treat you like a queen.”
“I’m not royalty.” She says the words softly, like she’s remembering something.
“Feel like dinner? Signature mac and cheese a’la Angelica?”
A smile breaks across her pretty face. “Sounds perfect. Although… I think I’ll have it your way tonight.”
“You’re kidding?” Holding the door open, I motion to the plastic bags of peppers and onions. “I stocked up.”
“Oh, no!” She laughs, putting her hands over her face. “I’ve kind of been having… heartburn lately.”
Frowning, I fill the quart saucepan with water and put it on a high flame. “I’m sorry. I might have Tums in the hall closet. No promises.”
“It’s okay, I have some.”
Her voice is so soft, and she seems so distracted. While I wait for the water to boil, I walk around the bar to where she’s sitting and wrap her in my arms. “What’s going on? Did something happen today?”
Nestling her cheek against my chest, she exhales softly. “I brought the car back to Beto. He’s home. He came outside and confronted me.”
