by Michel Stone
This time the cooler gave way just a bit. Each man adjusted his purchase among the rocks and hoisted the container again. Centimeter by centimeter they worked the cooler toward the lip of the boat.
When the bulk of the cooler rested on the bow, the stranger shouted, “Go on. I’ll untie you when you get it settled.”
Héctor flopped across the starboard side, surprised by the exhaustion that overcame him. As the stranger’s headlamp closed the distance to the wooden slat where the bowline remained tied, Héctor pulled the cooler the rest of the way onto the Gabriela. Without another word, the stranger untied the boat and tossed the rope at Héctor, where it landed like a long, wet snake across the top of the cooler and the bow, its end dangling overboard.
Just a boat-length off the rocky shore the depth of the water dropped fast. Héctor cranked the engine and eased away from the cliff side. When he looked back, no sign of the stranger remained, only the wind and darkness endured, and if the solid evidence of the evening’s activity didn’t sit before him, he could almost imagine the events of the previous hour to be a wild fantasy, whipped up on the sea wind from the distant and strange place where daydreams formed. But the shadowy proceedings on land had been real, and Héctor carried with him now the mysterious results.
A list began forming in Héctor’s mind of what the contents of the cooler could be. Drugs? What kind of drugs? A body? Oh, God, not a body. A body wouldn’t fit in such a space. But even as he considered the unlikelihood that he was transporting a corpse a part of him knew well that the body of a child or the dismembered body of an adult could indeed fit into the container speeding across the water with him now. And what would he tell the authorities if he were stopped?
The truth, of course. He would tell the truth. He had no knowledge of what he transported. But who would possibly believe that? His heart began to thump in his chest the way it had raced during his crossing to el norte when he’d been sealed by blowtorch in the undercarriage of a truck, certain he’d made a fatal mistake. He slowed the boat, idling in the darkness, and prayed God would guide him. He listened for the voice of God in the gusts that rocked the boat, but all he perceived was the lonesome howling of the wind and the cool, wet sea spray on his face. He shivered in his uncertainty and fear.
Héctor knew what he must do. He would throw the cooler overboard. That would be the smartest action. If he were caught with it and the contents were illegal, which, of course, they were, he would be imprisoned. And if he were jailed, he’d be guaranteed never to find Alejandra, and, perhaps, never again to see Lilia and Fernando, never to meet his unborn child Lilia carried.
He stood and grabbed hold of the cooler. He could work it up to the side of the boat and heave it over the transom into the white-capped sea. But what would Santiago do when Héctor returned to the dock empty-handed? Santiago would understand, wouldn’t he? Héctor could say the cooler had toppled from the Gabriela when he’d been blindsided by a rogue wave. What could Santiago do to him? Maybe Héctor had enough pesos to get to the border and conduct whatever business he needed to conduct to find Alejandra. Continuing to work this way for ill-gotten pay was foolish. This risk he now took hauling mysterious cargo could change his life and the lives of his loved ones in irreparable ways, just as his choice to cross to the Estados Unidos had fractured everything for them.
If he’d never gone to America, if he’d not chosen to cross, Lilia would never have left Puerto Isadore. She’d have had no reason to follow him, to seek her own coyote in an effort to join him. She’d never have met that woman who took their daughter.
An overwhelming urge to cry struck him, and he swayed in the bobbing boat, the wind blowing tears from his cheeks. Paralyzed in indecision and panic, he steadied himself with one hand firm upon the cooler’s handle waiting for a plan to develop.
As he rocked on the waves, contemplating his next move, a pinprick of light permeated the black expanse from which he’d just traveled. The light belonged to a vessel coming in from the sea. The approaching boat startled Héctor, snapping him from his uncertainty into a very real understanding that he must leave this spot at once. Perhaps the approaching boat held the authorities. They would see the cooler floating if he pitched it into the sea, and they would fish it from the water and open it. They would track him down, suspecting he’d tossed it, and they’d arrest him.
He cranked the engine and gunned the Gabriela toward the distant shore of Acapulco, to where Santiago awaited his arrival. He had not heard the voice of God as he’d hoped, but his choice had been made by circumstances beyond his control. And perhaps, Héctor told himself, in such situations, when we feel most helpless, God makes our decisions for us.
Chapter 24
Karolina
Karolina had finished her paperwork for the evening. She’d been thinking of the priest from Oaxaca when the day-shift nurse, Cristina, came through the front office.
“How’s that little Francisco doing?” Karolina said. “The pitiful boy who arrived this morning from the dump?”
“He’s holding steady. I cleaned up his scrapes and scabs and dewormed him, and he has a bottle full of warm milk in his belly. So I guess he’s better than he’s ever been in his life,” Cristina said.
Karolina shook her head. “Despite his mama dying this morning.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Despite that,” Cristina said, grabbing her bag to leave for the day.
“Hey,” Karolina said. “How long have you worked here?”
“I’m in my sixth year.”
“Do you recall a few years ago a little girl arriving, the lone survivor of a car crash?”
The nurse twisted her mouth to one side, mulling the question.
Karolina continued, “She arrived with false papers, papers for a little boy about the same age. She would have been a baby then. Her papers said her name was Ernesto?”
The nurse nodded, slowly at first and then faster as the memory came to her. “Yes, yes. I remember that child. We brought her in and until we changed her diaper we thought she was a boy. She was dressed like a boy, you know? Very well cared for and clean, unlike most of our arrivals. Even swaddled in a blue blanket. And then with those papers, why wouldn’t we think she was a boy?”
“You’re kidding? Really? You remember her?” So rare was good news here, Karolina laughed at this discovery.
“Yes, I remember that day well because we’d needed rain, and a rain shower came through, and I guess the roads were bad, slick or something. We actually got two kids from two accidents that evening. That little girl called Ernesto, and also a three-year-old boy who stayed with us just one night before we located a family member. But the girl stayed here for a while, a pretty child. Yes, yes. I remember her. We named her…What did we call her? Esther! Yes, little Esther. Because you know, of course, who could call such a pretty orphan girl Ernesto?”
“Where’d she go?” Karolina said.
“My recollection could be off, but as I recall she left us to go to one of the other orphanages. Or maybe she was adopted, I just can’t be sure,” Cristina said. “Why?”
Karolina relayed the details of the priest’s phone call.
“So Esther’s real parents are alive and well?”
“Yes, apparently so,” Karolina said. “I’m always hesitant to believe such calls, but this priest sounded legitimate.”
The nurse shrugged. “The surprises, both good and bad, never end in this place, do they?” she said, her smile weak and her eyes tired. “I hope you can reunite them, that they’re good people.”
“I wonder where she is,” Karolina said.
“You can check the files, now that you have a name and more information. My memory is fuzzy. I hope she’s at another center. Not already adopted out somewhere.”
“Thanks,” Karolina said, rubbing her temples, as Cristina wasted no more time heading out the door.
The small, cluttered front office needed cleaning, and Karolina’s trash bin overflowed with paper. She’d ti
dy the space before leaving tonight so that when she came in tomorrow morning, her day would at least begin with a fresh start, no matter what sad stories arrived on her doorstep. She began stacking the jumble of loose papers on her desk and decided she would call the priest in Oaxaca tomorrow.
Chapter 25
Rosa
Rosa had been sweeping Lilia’s yard when a young boy she recognized as the grandson of the widow lady down the lane ran through the gate.
“Señora,” he shouted to Rosa. “Señora Lilia has a phone call. Down at la farmacia. Armando sent me. He said the call is from Señor Héctor.”
Rosa thanked the boy and told him she’d be right down. She leaned the broom beside the front door and hollered inside.
“Call for you at Armando’s, Lilia. Stay put. I’ll take it,” and before Lilia could respond, Rosa followed the barefoot messenger boy down the lane.
At Armando’s Rosa pushed past a couple of young mothers chatting in front of the canned soups. One lady had a baby on her hip and the other had a little girl, maybe seven years old, tickling the feet of the baby and making him giggle while their mothers exchanged gossip.
“Rosa,” Armando said, holding the receiver out to her. “I guess you’re here on Lilia’s behalf ?”
Rosa barely nodded. Armando always pushed his nose into the business of others, like an old goat determined to be where he should not.
“Hola, Héctor,” she said into the receiver. “This is Rosa.”
“Rosa?” Héctor said, the worry evident in his voice. “Is Lilia okay?”
“She’s in bed, Héctor. This baby doesn’t want to wait the full term, but I’m doing my best to keep it in place as long as I can.”
“Is Lilia sick?” he said, his words rushed, high pitched in his concern.
“Not so much, just tired, and she’s had a few complications. But she’s in my care. She’s flat on her back, and for now, I think, we’ve postponed things.”
For several seconds Héctor didn’t speak, and Rosa thought they’d been disconnected. Then, “Thank you,” he said.
“But Héctor, I have important news for you! We’ve been waiting on your call. The priest came to see us last night. He’s found an orphanage that knows of Alejandra!”
“What? Tell me!”
“Yes, yes. The orphanage in Matamoros called him back. An employee there recalls a baby fitting Alejandra’s description arriving about the time she went missing. She had the Ernesto papers, Héctor. This child was Alejandra!”
“Go on,” he said, nearly yelling into the phone.
“So you must get there. You must go to this place and see these people. The priest says you should get there immediately to ask the questions, to follow her trail. The woman who called said Alejandra is no longer at their orphanage. They changed her name to Esther. That’s really all we know. She told the priest that perhaps the child was acquired by a larger, evangelical Christian orphanage in a little town on the eastern outskirts of Monterrey, inland and away from the border. It’s where they sometimes send children. Or perhaps she’s been adopted. But without proof that you and Lilia are her real parents they’ll tell us nothing else.”
“Why? Why would one orphanage send her to another one like that?” he said.
“The priest said this happens sometimes. The woman in Matamoros told him that her orphanage suffers terrible overcrowding, that it’s in an area of great need. They only house newborns through four-year-old children.”
“Did the priest call the other orphanage? Oh, God, Rosa, I cannot believe this, after all this time! She’s alive! My baby girl is alive.”
Rosa at once feared she’d been too optimistic with Héctor. “She is likely alive, yes. We know she survived the car crash, and we know the authorities brought her to the orphanage. We know she’s left that orphanage. But beyond that the path gets weedy, Héctor. The priest says you must go there. See these people face-to-face to ask about her, to find her. They refuse to share any more information over the phone. You have to go there to prove you are the father and not some fraud trying to gain information about a child.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, lowering his voice as if now mulling what this news meant for him in the coming days.
“Have you earned money? Has the fishing boat paid you enough to get you up north?”
“Yes,” he said. “Tell Lilia the fishing pays a fair wage, but that now I also make deliveries of sorts for the boat captains, and these deliveries…” His voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Rosa said, watching the two young mothers and their children leave the store, the bell on the doorknob jangling in their wake.
“These deliveries are much more profitable. I’ve made a couple deliveries now, and each pays far more than a fishing charter.”
Rosa wanted to ask details, but she suspected the answers would only leave her with more questions. “And these deliveries? What? Are you delivering fish?”
“I don’t ask,” he said. “I just pick up boxes and transport them to my bosses.”
“You don’t ask? Surely you can’t expect that to add up, Héctor? You don’t know what you’re transporting?”
“No, Rosa, and in truth, the job flows best that way. I don’t ask. I do as I’m told, and I receive payment. Don’t worry Lilia with these details, Rosa. Just let her know I’m making money. Good money. And I have enough to leave this place, to pursue Alejandra.”
“Okay, Héctor,” she said, though she didn’t believe him. “Be safe. I’ll tell Lilia you’ll head north toward Matamoros, toward Casa de Esperanza, House of Hope, that’s the name of the orphanage, and that you’ll contact us when you get there.”
“Okay, Rosa. I’ll take the bus in the morning. And Rosa?” he said.
“Yes?”
“Please keep my unborn baby well. I don’t think Lilia could handle more loss. Neither of us should have to endure losing another child, especially,” he added, “if this promising news doesn’t bear fruit, you understand?”
“I’ll do all I can, just as I always do for all my babies, Héctor. God’s in charge here, as He always is.”
She imagined Héctor nodding on the other end of the line, standing at a pay phone somewhere in Acapulco, fancy people in shiny jewelry all about him and expensive cars passing on the street.
“Give Lilia my love, Rosa. Tell her to stay strong, to keep that baby safe inside her. How much longer does the baby need?”
“A couple more weeks at the least, a month would be better, and five weeks would bring the child close to full term. But Héctor, she won’t last five weeks. This baby may not wait a week. You must understand this.”
“I understand,” he said.
“Go with God,” she said, before replacing the receiver. She stared at the wall above the phone where a tiny dark spider wrestled with a struggling brown moth in a cobweb. When she turned to leave she bumped into Armando as he dusted the shelving closest to the phone.
“Everything well with Héctor?” he asked, pushing his wire-frame glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“All’s well,” she said, then walked out the door, even as Armando called behind her, “Hello to Lilia! Come back soon, Rosa!”
Chapter 26
Héctor
The Gabriela had stayed docked all day because of heavy rainstorms and choppy seas. But now, as Héctor and Emanuel sat on two plastic chairs in front of Emanuel’s apartment, the sinking sun torched the retreating clouds a glorious orange, and the night looked to be clear. The beauty of the sky along with the news from Rosa that Alejandra’s trail had been detected filled Héctor with a warmth and lightness of spirit he had not known in months. He breathed deeply and sipped a beer, watching a yellow bird flit among the fronds and purplish-red berries on a scraggly palm tree above him. Emanuel smoked a cigarette and listened to the end of the first half of Mexico’s World Cup match against Uruguay on a boom box at their feet, but neither spoke, each reveling in the end of an easy workday and the passing of th
e torrent that had flooded the streets earlier.
“So I may be leaving tomorrow, Emanuel,” Héctor said, not taking his eyes from the little bird in the tree.
“Oh?” Emanuel said, exhaling.
“I got word from home today that Alejandra has been located. I need to head north, to get my daughter.”
“Fantastic!” Emanuel said, flicking his cigarette butt into an oil-slicked puddle. “That’s great news, Héctor. Where is she?”
“That’s what I have to figure out. She was in Matamoros, at an orphanage there. This much we know. From there she was taken somewhere else, but the orphanage won’t relinquish details unless I go there. To prove I’m her papa.”
After a moment Emanuel said, “You know, Ana María and I were going to spy on you one night. At the dock.” He watched his spent cigarette float in the puddle.
“What? Why?”
“No worries. We never got there. She was too drunk so I just walked her home. We were hoping to see what you’ve been up to. With your mysterious job,” he said, glancing at Héctor.
“You’d have seen nothing exciting. You know as much as I do about my so-called mysterious job,” Héctor said.
Emanuel cleared his throat and spit. “Héctor,” he said, his tone different now, somber.
“Yeah?”
“I should…” Emanuel began, turning his gaze from the puddle to look Héctor in the eyes. “I’m sorry about everything. About what you and Lilia have endured.” He sat up taller, straightening his back as if at once uneasy in his chair. “Your daughter, you know? Everything. I’m sorry, man. No one should go through what your family’s suffered. I’m just really sorry all this has happened.”
Héctor nodded, uncertain how to respond, unaccustomed to Emanuel speaking like this. He couldn’t say “No problem” or “It’s all okay,” because things were not okay. Not yet, anyway. Instead he shrugged and said, “Until you have a child of your own, a wife of your own…” He paused, shaking his head, searching for the right words. Héctor loved Lilia, had always loved Lilia, and their children, too, with a depth Emanuel could never comprehend. “You can’t imagine, Emanuel. But at least I have some direction now.” He didn’t know what else to add.
