Home for Her Family (9781460341186)

by Carmichael, Virginia

  Most of all, she wasn’t anything like Jack. They were from such different worlds. His words rang in her head and she fought down another wave of anger. Part of her knew that she was reacting out of embarrassment. He thought they were a charity case, and it hurt more than if he hadn’t cared to say anything at all. But another part, a deeper part, was furious at how he could have looked at her nieces as if they were a burden. Maybe he hadn’t meant to, but that’s what came out when he started speaking.

  “Tía, it’s so cold,” Gabby complained, pulling her sweater tighter.

  “I know. Let’s get into the bus shelter and out of this wind.” Sabrina hustled them down the block and into the glass enclosure. It wasn’t much better, but the chill that came straight down from the mountains didn’t reach into the very corners of the bus stop.

  The girls perched on the bench and clutched their little white baskets to their chests. Sabrina let out a deep breath. She couldn’t hold a grudge against Jack. He was their soccer coach and she would see him several times a week when they came to practice. It also wasn’t Christian to hold on to a slight, especially if it hadn’t been intentional. Lord, bless Jack and all his family. She would return blessings for injuries. It was the best thing for both of them.

  The sound of the city bus echoed down the street and Sabrina gathered the girls at the sign, ready to board. She was determined to put it all out of her mind. Jack meant well. He’d realized they were having financial trouble and been on the verge of offering her money. The idea suddenly made her stomach twist. Her father would have welcomed it with open arms, because free money was the best kind. But Sabrina would never be like him. Being dependent on charity and leaving the care of her family to strangers was not something she would ever do. She would earn everything that she had and show her nieces that God blessed those who worked hard.

  She filed up the dirty steps, ushering the girls past the driver and pausing to show him their bus passes. As they found a seat on the gray bench, she reached an arm around each girl and snuggled them close. They beamed up at her, still giddy with the morning fun. Their little family would never be wealthy, but they would have each other. Sabrina had faith that as long as she focused on the girls, everything else would fall into place. God wouldn’t let them down.

  * * *

  Jack knocked lightly on the wooden door and waited for a response. There was complete silence from the office inside. He checked his watch. Bob Barrows had ignored his attempts to set up an appointment. The man never answered his phone. Here it was two in the afternoon on a Wednesday and he was nowhere to be found. The rest of the fifth floor of Colorado Supplements, however, buzzed with activity. Glancing behind him, Jack caught a young woman in a smart blue office suit watching him. She dropped her gaze and hurried away before he was able send her a friendly smile.

  The whole floor of office workers seemed to be covertly watching him, as if he were a wild animal escaped from the zoo. He had asked every department for a two-month audit, hoping to be as prepared as possible for when his father came back. He was sure he hadn’t made any friends with that request, but he’d been surprised at the lack of welcome. He didn’t visit this floor very often, it was true. He didn’t visit any floor much. But that was going to change.

  Sighing, he turned back to the main area, hoping to catch a secretary who could deliver a message. His jaw felt tight and he tried to shrug off his irritation. Ever since he’d stuck his foot in his mouth at the mission, he’d been in a terrible mood. He couldn’t forget the look on Sabrina’s face when he’d tried to offer her financial help. Shame, hurt, surprise. The moment had played on a repeating loop in his head all night as he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

  He needed to focus on his job instead of obsessing over one stupid comment. All he wanted was the production numbers so he could cross-check them with last year’s costs. It shouldn’t be difficult at all to find that file and zip it through to Jack’s computer. But Barrows was making Jack’s job much harder than it had to be.

  He strode toward the chest-high glossy black desk and waited for the secretary to finish her phone call. Her eyes went wide when she looked up and she nervously smoothed blond strands of hair back from her forehead. She was pretty, in a conventional sort of way, with sculpted eyebrows and a little too much makeup. As she ended the phone call, he leaned forward and smiled.

  “Hi. I’m Jack Thorne. I was looking for Bob Barrows.”

  She giggled. Then she put a hand to her mouth, as if realizing the sound had come from her and not someone else. “I know who you are. You’re the vice president. I’ve never met you, but I pass your picture in the lobby every day.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he motioned toward Barrows’s office. “Will he be back sometime today?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m just a substitute. I usually work down in the basement.” There was an awkward pause while she stared at him and he waited to see if she had any other information to offer.

  Jack would have to admit defeat. No one had any idea where the man had gone, and the secretary was probably as clueless as he was. “Okay, can you leave him a message that I stopped by?”

  She nodded, still smiling widely.

  He wished her a good afternoon and walked back to the elevators. Heads bobbed up above cubicle walls and then disappeared, like human groundhogs. He forced a smile and hoped he appeared pleasant and calm instead of frustrated and furious. Life had been so much easier when he had only worried about himself and snowboarding up on Wolf Mountain. His father was coming back to work soon, after almost two months recovering from his heart attack. Jack had wanted to prove that he’d been a good steward, done more than sit at his desk and check the snow prediction for the weekend.

  Punching the button, he waited for the metal doors to open. His employees didn’t respect him, he had no real idea of where the company was headed and he was out of touch with everyone except his own small family.

  The door slid smoothly open and he stepped inside, jabbing the button for the top floor. Volunteering at the mission had given him the idea he understood poverty, that he was connected to people who struggled just to survive. Frowning at his reflection in the polished metal door, he knew he’d been wrong. If he understood poverty, he never would have been so clumsy with Sabrina. He would have known how offended she’d feel. He rubbed a hand over his face. Of all the words he wished he could take back, the ones about her nieces were at the top. He hadn’t meant it to sound as if he didn’t consider them truly hers, or that she was only doing her duty. But it had come out sounding heartless and patronizing.

  The ding of the elevator brought him back from the black cloud of regret that consumed his thoughts. The doors swished open and he stepped onto his floor, not sparing a single glance for the snowcapped mountains that shone through the large plate-glass windows. Striding into his office, he dropped into his leather desk chair and reached for the stack of production figures. He had made a lot of mistakes, but he was determined to start taking responsibility and applying his energy to what God had put before him.

  He paused, a piece of paper in one hand and a pen in the other, as Sabrina’s face flashed through his mind once again. Part of taking responsibility would have to include an apology. He hadn’t meant to offend her and had only wanted to help. But there was no excuse for being callous. Sabrina was beautiful, smart and proud. Offering her money was the worst move he could have made, and when he saw her at soccer practice tomorrow, he would apologize. He had a lot of learning to do, and he prayed that God would teach him when to speak and when to keep his big mouth shut.

  Chapter Five

  The phone rang and Sabrina sat up in bed, eyes still closed. She groped for the receiver and mumbled into it. “Hello?”

  A man’s voice answered her in Spanish, “Are you the mechanic?”

  She blinked, trying to push
away the nightmare that still clung to the edges of her mind. Something about carrying all her belongings down the street, her two nieces crying behind her, knocking on doors that wouldn’t open. “Yes, who is this?”

  “Pancho said you were good with machines. We’ll pay you five hundred dollars to come down here now and fix our equipment.” There was a lot of noise in the background, metal clangs and loud voices.

  Pancho Olmos? Sabrina knew better than to run off at the first promise of money, even if it was more than she made in a week. But Pancho was from her old neighborhood, a family friend. They had grown up together and gone to the same high school. She’d seen him a few weeks ago, out at the little grocery store that sold the chili-pepper candies that Gabby liked so much. He had looked just the same, maybe a little tired. They’d exchanged numbers and now she wondered if that had been wise.

  “We need someone down here right away. We can’t wait until morning.”

  “Where are you?” Even if she could get Mrs. Guzman from upstairs to watch the girls, it was still the middle of the night and there was no way she was taking the bus alone at this hour.

  “Pancho can pick you up.”

  She noticed he didn’t answer her question again. “He’s there with you?”

  In response, she heard the caller yell to someone. Seconds later, her friend’s voice sounded into her ear. “Hey, Sabrina. I hate to even ask you to do this, but we’re in big trouble here. I couldn’t think of anyone else to call. We’re on a really tight schedule and nobody else will come check out the machine.” She could almost see him, dark hair sticking up in the front the way it had since he was a little kid, wiry frame hunched over in his big sweatshirt.

  “But I don’t even know what kind of machine it is,” she started to protest, shaking the sleep from her brain.

  “Label machine, nothing complicated, but we can’t get the products boxed and ready for pickup at six if we do it by hand.”

  She took a breath and stared at the ceiling. High-volume label machines that were meant for round-the-clock usage usually had a lot of touch-sensitive equipment, computer panels and electronics that were outside her area of expertise. “I haven’t worked with a lot of those, Pancho.”

  “Please, there’s nobody else. Can you just come look?” His voice was threaded with exhaustion. “We’re going to lose this account if we aren’t ready to ship at six.” He paused. “For a friend? We were good friends once, right?”

  Sabrina wanted to say no, wanted to say she had never really known Pancho that well, but it wouldn’t be quite true. They might not have been friends, but Pancho’s family had kept her and Rosa fed when there was no one else. She remembered how Mrs. Olmos had invited her in for dinner several times a week. She must have known how things were at Sabrina’s house.

  “Okay, let me call upstairs and see if I can get my neighbor to come down for a few hours.”

  She heard him release a breath of relief and warned him, “But she’s old. She may not even hear the phone.”

  “Thank you, really, thanks so much.”

  “Better wait to thank me,” she said and hung up. She sat staring at the phone for a moment, then slid off the bed with a groan. If she hadn’t needed the money so much...no, she probably would still try and help Pancho even if he hadn’t offered a lot of money. The Olmoses had been just a nice family across the street—they were good people, nothing special—but for Sabrina it had meant the world to have a hot meal and a safe place to be when her father was drunk.

  Ten minutes later she was waving to a sleepy-eyed Mrs. Guzman as she settled onto Sabrina’s couch. “Thank you, again. I’ll pay you when I get back from—”

  “No, mija, no.” She waved a hand and tucked the blanket more securely around her chest. “It’s good to help old friends. He was right to ask you and you were right to ask me. Now, go.”

  Sabrina nodded, realizing the wisdom of those words, and slipped out the door. Pancho was already at the curb. His compact car made a rattling noise as the engine idled. She slid into the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt.

  “It’s not too far.” He seemed nervous, jittery. His T-shirt was thin and the meager warmth from the afternoon sun was long gone, but his forehead shone with sweat.

  “So, do you own this company?” Sabrina rested her toolbox at her feet and looked over at him.

  “Me? No, I’m just one of the...” He paused and swallowed. “We do jobs for other people. This is a new account. Usually they’re a lot smaller, with the crew just packing papers into folders or assembling products.”

  She nodded. It sounded as though they’d taken on more than they could handle.

  A few minutes later, they pulled up outside an older warehouse. The four-story brick building was dark and the streetlights at the curb were out. Sabrina looked up the street and noted it was empty of parked cars. Probably the staff parked around back.

  Pancho locked the car and walked quickly toward a side door. He knocked, glancing up and down the darkened street. Sabrina followed, unease rising in her chest.

  A voice called through the door and Pancho answered into the crack, too softly for her to hear. Seconds later the door swung open and they trooped inside. A short, stocky man stood in front of her. He didn’t introduce himself or greet her. She offered him a smile and without returning it he turned, jerking his head toward the main room.

  Sabrina glanced at Pancho, but his head was down, his gaze fixed on the floor. She’d been in dozens of industrial work spaces, but this one felt all wrong. The fire doors were chained and the windows were covered. About twenty workers were seated in a row by the far wall. They were quiet—no chatter, no snacking or checking their phones. Most were men, but there were a few older women. None of them looked clean and they all seemed exhausted, with smudged faces and dark shadows under the eyes. It was the middle of the night and the night shift was tough, but their exhaustion looked to be the accumulation of days on the job with not enough rest.

  The man pointed to the machine and said, “Fix it.”

  Any other place, at any other time, Sabrina would have at least rolled her eyes. Not now. She put down her tools and opened the lid. Her hands were trembling. His attitude, Pancho’s fear, the darkened warehouse all said she was in a very bad situation. This business was obviously either packing something very illegal or these workers were not working voluntarily. She glanced at the labels as she started to examine the machine. It looked like some kind of diet powder. So the product itself wasn’t the problem. A shudder went up her spine as she glanced over at the group against the wall. How long had they been here?

  The stocky man stood near her, watching her every move. He was clearly the one running the entire operation. No one spoke in the room. Pancho stood next to the row of workers, not meeting her gaze. She wondered how he had gotten mixed up in this. He could leave, obviously, because he’d just driven out to pick her up. But there were all kinds of ways to keep someone enslaved. Sabrina thought of Mrs. Olmos and her kind smile, felt sweat slide down the back of her neck. Please, Lord, guide me. I want to help them, but I don’t know if I can even get out of here.

  The images of her nieces flashed through her mind. What would happen to them if she never came home? She had heard rumors, had known there were slave-labor rings in the city, but she’d never thought she would find herself in danger. She was a street-smart girl, had grown up knowing what a lie sounded like even when it came through smiling lips. Sabrina had always figured that if she worked hard and did the right thing, she would be safe. But all it took was one phone call for help from one old family friend, and she was teetering on the edge of disappearing into the underworld of slave labor. The image of Jack appeared in her mind and her chest ached. She hadn’t realized how much she felt for him until she’d realized she might never see him again.

  Sabrina sat back and wiped the cold s
weat from her forehead. The label machine was running smoothly now, and she packed her tools away as quickly as possible. Her hands were trembling and she willed herself to be calm. She’d kept herself from panicking during the past hour by thinking of her nieces, their dark eyes and trusting hearts. Her mind had come back to Jack over and over. His smile, the tenor of his voice, the way he made her feel safe and treasured.

  The boss took a few steps toward her and leaned in close. “Five hundred dollars, in cash, as soon as we know we can trust you.” His gaze never left her face. “We’ll be watching you. Pancho will take you home. If we need you again, we’ll call you.”

  Sabrina felt the blood drain from her face. She didn’t want the money. She only wanted to leave without ever having to come back. “Thank you, but I don’t do night calls. I just came because of—”

  “You did and you will again. We know where you live, in that nice apartment with your little nieces.” He leaned closer, giving off a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and sweat. “Sweet girls. Really pretty.”

  Her mouth went dry and she knew she should respond, but Sabrina’s heart was pounding so hard that she couldn’t speak.

  Pancho took her elbow and tugged her toward the door. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let me take you back.”

  She let herself be led outside. As the heavy metal door clanged shut behind them, she heard chains being drawn across the push bar. Her knees started to buckle and Pancho gripped her harder.

  “Hurry,” he said, forcing her toward the car. “Just get in.”

  She numbly put on her seat belt and folded her hands in her lap. The sweat on her face turned ice-cold in the night air and it revived her a little. As they drew away from the curb, she turned to him. “How can you stay there? You know what’s going on.”

  His face was grim in the orange light from the street lamps. “I didn’t know. Not at first. And by the time I did, it was too late. They knew where my family was.” He glanced at her. “I’ve been trying to convince my parents to move, but they’ve been here thirty years. They don’t want to leave, especially for no good reason. I can’t tell them what’s going on or they’d be in even worse danger. Even if they did find somewhere to go, I also have five sisters. What about them? What about their children and their husbands?”