Reluctant Smuggler

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Desiree sat on a sofa in the waiting room, hugging herself. Why wasn’t she jumping up and down that Tony seemed to be doing so well? But then, he looked about how he said he felt. The doctor hadn’t said so, but there could be a million complications from what had happened.

  Where’s my faith, God?

  Sturdy arms came around her. “Mia figlia.” Desi buried her face in Gina’s shoulder. Her future mother-in-law rubbed circles on her back. “Our Tony is strong and so are we.”

  “I’m not strong. Not today.” She met eyes the same rich shade of brown as Tony’s. “It’s not just Tony. There’s something wrong with me-e.” The last word ended in a gasping hiccup. She pressed her lips together, throat pulled tight, but couldn’t stop a pair of tears from escaping her eyes. “I don’t know what to do—my wedding, my job. Nothing’s working. I’ve failed at everything. And why am I even thinking about these things with Tony in there?”

  Flushing hot, Desi jumped up and paced to the far end of the guest area. If she didn’t want to be anywhere near herself, Gina must be doubly disgusted.

  “Look at me, donna giavane” Gina’s voice sounded right behind her.

  Desi scrunched into herself. Young lady. Daddy used that phrase when she was about to receive correction. But he’d gone to be with the mother Desi couldn’t remember because she died when Desi was a baby. Her parents were happy together now, but death had left Desi with no one except Tony. And Max, of course, but she had kids to think about, as well as a husband in prison. And Tony’s mother wanted Desi to call her “Mom,” something she hadn’t been able to do. Why? She adored the grand lady who had raised her fiancé.

  Desi turned. Gina’s expression radiated calm acceptance. Desi flung herself into the woman’s arms and clung, tears pouring over the dam. Gina rocked her, cooing, “Shhh. Shhh. Shhh.” Not telling her to stop crying, but that age-old sound of mother comforting child.

  “Oh no! Tony’s not—”

  The gasped words drew Desi away from Gina’s embrace. A pale-faced Max stood in the entrance. Desi scrubbed at her tears. A burly figure came up behind Max and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Steve Crane’s other arm was already around the shoulder of a woman who appeared like a decades-older mirror image of Max.

  “My son is awake and talking,” Gina said.

  Desi nodded. “I’m just having a bit of a meltdown.”

  Max’s freckles faded as normal color returned to her cheeks. “I don’t blame you.” She held out her arms.

  Desi went into them and got a king-sized squeeze, then was passed to the next person. Oh, good grief, she was hugging Crane, the man who annoyed her like vinegar to the teeth, and he was hugging back. It felt okay, actually. She moved on to Lana Burke, Max’s mother, and got more of that mom-cooing. She’d have to learn how to make that sound when she started having Tony’s babies. A small laugh came out. Hope sprang eternal, and she wasn’t letting it go.

  “My star patient has quite a fan club.” Doctor Braniff stepped in. His gaze stopped on Crane. “I hear you sat with Tony and talked to him.”

  The big man shifted his feet. “Yeah. Talked.”

  Desi stared at him. Why did that statement turn Tony’s ex-partner the color of beet juice?

  The doctor nodded. “Good job. We find interaction with friends and loved ones can help pull comatose patients back from the brink.”

  Desi’s heart fluttered. Nasty word—brink,

  “Mrs. Lucano.” The doctor turned to Tony’s mother.

  “Gina, please.”

  “Gina, your son has given me permission to share his medical information with you and with his fiancée, Desiree Jacobs. I assume that’s you.” He smiled toward Desi.

  “Call me Desi, and yes, that’s me.”

  “I should finish rounds by three o’clock.” He glanced at his watch. “Come to my office then, and we can talk. The results from this morning’s blood draw should be back.”

  “We’ll be there, Doctor.” Gina nodded, a regal tilt to her head.

  Admiration flashed in the doctor’s gray eyes, and Desi didn’t blame him. Tony’s mom commanded a room without half trying, and not because her stature dwarfed most women. For a female with nothing dainty about her and more silver than black in her hair, she exuded timeless elegance. Desi wanted to be her when she grew up.

  “Good.” Braniff tore his attention from Gina and looked around the room. “Feel free to visit Tony in small groups, but don’t be surprised if he dozes off on you. He’s recovering from extreme trauma, and his body will demand sleep. He was fading when I left him. On the other hand, no one can get too much support.” He strode away.

  Desi watched Gina’s gaze follow him. Then the woman turned thoughtful eyes on Desi. “Our Tony is blessed to have such a one supervising his care.”

  “No argument there.” A grin crept over her face.

  Gina’s chin came up. “What are you smiling at, cara?”

  Desi shrugged. “Just…blessings.”

  Gina let out a soft humph.

  “We’re going to see Tony.” Max broke in.

  “I’ll go with you.” Desi stepped forward.

  Gina clucked her tongue. “I don’t know about you, mia figlia, but I could use a shower and a good breakfast after spending a day and a night in airports and airplanes from Los Angeles to Minneapolis to New York to Boston. My luggage sits in the lobby with the receptionist.”

  A fatigue headache throbbed behind Desi’s eyes. “And I’m pretty sure my morning breath could be deployed as a weapon of mass destruction. My place is closest. Let’s go make ourselves presentable.”

  “Me, I will make presentable.” She jerked a thumb at herself. “You are always beautiful.”

  Lana walked up to Desi. “We’ll stay until you get back.” Her high, sweet tone was the polar opposite of Steve Crane’s gravel bass. “Right, dear?” She beamed up at Crane, who had lumbered on her heels like a love-struck bear.

  “Sure thing, honey.”

  Did that grizzly just say honey? Desi glanced at Max, who grinned and shrugged.

  “Get on home.” The redhead waved her away. “We’ll chew the fat later, girlfriend.”

  Judging by the look that accompanied that statement, it could be a long chew. More problems at HJ Securities? Desi thrust the worry away. First, they had to find out what kind of battle lay ahead for Tony. For all of them.

  Desi blow-dried her hair and fluffed it around her shoulders. A hot shower usually did wonders for her outlook, but ugly memories crowded her. The eerie wheeze of Albon Guererra. The smell of jalapeño sweat. The drugged eyes of young men waving homemade weapons. A gunshot and the gasps of a wounded woman. Merciless fingers pinching her face. She touched the bruises on her chin. Then to come home and see her tower of strength leveled in a hospital bed…

  She swallowed a whimper as she went into the living room and sank into an easy chair. Below, water hummed in pipes from the shower running in the first-floor bathroom. Daddy’s ground-floor apartment was empty—not of furniture—but of his presence.

  Would Tony want to live here with her? They could reconvert the house into a single-family dwelling. Dad had made it into upstairs and downstairs apartments when Desi returned home from college a single woman, ready to partner with him in business. On the other hand, she and Tony would be starting a family. This was a nice neighborhood, but it was mostly empty nesters.

  Whoa! She was getting ahead of herself. Tony’s recovery came first This big unknown was like teetering on a ledge, unsure whether they’d tumble a few feet to solid ground or off a cliff.

  You’re borrowing trouble, Des. Get on with what you know to do.

  She got her Palm Pilot from her laptop case and found Ramon Sanchez’s cell number, then punched it in on her cordless phone. Cell towers were down over a big area, but her house still had landline service. Sanchez’s phone rang until the voice mail kicked in.

  “Ramon, I’ve reached Boston, and my fiancé has come out of the coma. W
e’re not sure what lies ahead. Please let me know what you found out about Zapopa and her grandson. Thank you so much for everything. My prayers are with you and your family.”

  Desi ended the call and went back to the bathroom where she applied makeup, careful to conceal the bruises. No need to explain those to Tony right now. She checked the time on the bedside alarm clock. Over two hours until their meeting with the doctor. She’d give Gina twenty minutes before whipping up scrambled eggs and toast. Her bed beckoned, but she turned away. If she lay down, she probably wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.

  She went to the kitchen and brewed tea. What was tomorrow? Monday. That made today Sunday. Hands curled around the warm tea mug, she wandered to the living room and peered out at the street from a dormer window. A plow had opened a single lane for traffic. The taxi driver had taken creative routes to get them here. No doubt church had been canceled this morning.

  Desi sat down and dialed her pastor’s number—Tony’s pastor too. But his phone was out of service, which meant he probably didn’t know about Tony’s accident. Sighing, she cradled the phone and sank back against the sofa. She should e-mail Pastor Grange, just as soon as she worked up the energy to move.

  Hopefully, Tony was resting well, not plagued by doubts and fears. He didn’t need anything to distract him from getting better. Not her business struggles, and no harrowing tales from south of the border. How she’d keep her missing engagement ring a secret, she had no idea, but she’d think of something. And no wedding hassles either. They needed a quiet service, immediate family and close friends. She pictured the two of them at the front of their church, the soloist softly singing their love as they adored each other with their eyes…

  A heavenly scent of cinnamon and dough drew her from sleep. She sat up with a start. She’d dozed off, but for how long? A robust voice began to belt out a praise chorus from the kitchen. Gina…Tony’s mom…Mom. So now the guest was cooking for the hostess. Desi’s mouth watered. Evidently her appetite didn’t care.

  She stretched, then went to the kitchen and found Gina scraping bits of dough from the counter. The woman wore brown slacks and a rib-knit sweater covered by an apron Desi had forgotten she owned. The enticing cinnamon scent came from the oven, complemented by the smell of fresh coffee.

  Gina smiled. “I’m so pleased you got a nap. You must be exhausted.”

  “I am, but I didn’t intend to make you cook.”

  “It felt good to be useful.”

  Desi laughed. “Useful? More like a miracle worker, given my bare cupboards.”

  Gina shrugged. “I got creative with a tube of biscuit dough.”

  “I bought that before I left for Pakistan. It must have been near its expiration date.”

  “A day away.” Gina finished wiping the counter.

  “Have a seat and let me wait on you.” Desi went to the coffee maker and filled two mugs. “Nondairy creamer and nonsugar sweetener, right?”

  Tony’s mom sank into a chair with a sigh Desi doubted she meant to release. “Thick and black would do me well right now.”

  Desi set the mug and a spoon in front of her guest. On impulse, she bent and wrapped her arms around the woman’s sturdy shoulders.

  Gina patted one of Desi’s hands. “My son is blessed beyond measure.”

  Desi sat across from her. “From birth, I’d say.”

  Gina’s dark eyes twinkled as she brought the mug to her lips. Desi sipped her own coffee, and comfortable silence settled. If not for the looming appointment with the doctor, this would be a cozy morning after the storm—a time to bask in warmth, indulge in comfort food, and enjoy the company of a person she’d like whether she’d ever met Tony. But they didn’t have that luxury, might not have any such thing in the foreseeable future.

  Desi gulped her coffee, and the liquid scalded her tongue. With a soft growl, she set the mug away from her.

  Gina touched her arm. “Your worries are written on your forehead, mia figlia.”

  “I had—” she started, and then cleared her throat. “I had an unset-ding time in Mexico, which has left me ill prepared to deal with a crisis at home.”

  “Tell me.”

  The simple invitation and the soulful eyes drew her like a compass to the North Pole. Desi spilled the whole sorry tale from the time she boarded the airplane from Mexico City to Mérida until she arrived at Tony’s hospital room. While she spoke, Gina took the rolls from the oven and served them hot with butter—sorry, no icing—and poured them more coffee. Desi dug in as she continued her saga.

  “And now I have no engagement ring,” Desi finished, pushing away her empty plate. “No medallion. I failed my assignment for the Mexican government. The Greybecks are doing their best to ensure that I lose my business, and I almost lost Tony too. I don’t overwhelm easily, but I’m about ready to check myself into the funny farm. Except I can’t. Somehow, I have to pull myself together.” Desi inhaled a ragged breath.

  Gina nodded. “Good. Good.”

  “Good?” Desi glared. She’d talked like a house afire for twenty minutes, but had her listener heard a word she said?

  “Yes, very good. With such strong attacks, one can only assume something wonderful is about to happen, and the devil is trying to stop it. We will not let him. I will alert my prayer team without revealing what must remain confidential.” She spoke as if that answer settled everything.

  Maybe it did.

  Gina wiped her mouth on a paper napkin. “Now it is time to speak of something else. If we hear things about our Tony that we would rather not, we ladies must be in one accord. My son is a stubborn one and has a few old-school nouons.”

  Desi’s stomach muscles clenched. Gina was hinting at a fear Desi hadn’t even let herself name. “You mean like he shouldn’t burden a wife with a less-than-healthy specimen of masculinity.”

  “Ah, you know him. But the two of us, we are more than a match, eh? I want a daughter officially my own, and my son will oblige his mother molto rapidamente, I warn you, cara, he will be a bad patient, but an excellent husband.” She winked.

  Desi laughed, and her heart lightened. “Thank you.”

  The woman’s dark brows arched. “For what?”

  “For listening to my problems…and for not insulting me by asking whether I’d still want Tony if he came with medical issues.”

  “When dealing with a woman of character, one need not question such matters.”

  Desi rose and kissed Gina’s cheek. “I’ll call for a taxi. I’m afraid my car is trapped in a garage half-buried under white stuff.”

  While they put their coats on in the first-floor foyer, Desi’s gaze fell on Gina’s suitcase sitting against the wall. “Here I laid my burdens on you and forgot to ask about your visit with the Lucano clan in California. I know you hoped to build a bridge for Tony’s sake.”

  The older woman’s eyes flashed. “I begin to think my son is right. The relatives on the law-abiding branch are not worth the effort. They are too law-abiding…in the religious sense. I might find more open minds among the mafioso Lucanos. I received a proper Sicilian welcome as the widow of a Lucano, but they are offended at Tony.”

  “Why?” Desi jerked on her gloves. “Tony’s three generations removed from mob connections.”

  “Ah, but he has taken his own path in matters of faith.” Gina wagged a finger.

  “Because he’s not Roman Catholic?” Desi’s insides did a slow burn. How could people call themselves Christians if they rejected others in the family of God because they didn’t wear the same label? She opened her mouth to spew hot words, but reined her temper back. Cliquish behavior happened among Protestants and Catholics alike.

  That didn’t mean she had to accept it.

  Gina shook her head. “In a small way I can understand how they feel. When Tony at last took Jesus as his Lord and Savior, I thought, ‘Ah, now he will go to Mass with me as he did when he was a boy’ But he is too much his father’s son.” She laughed, and tension faded from
her posture. “He must forge a new path.”

  Desi chuckled. “That’s our Tony, all right. Always challenging the status quo. Part of what makes him a successful FBI agent, but as he says, an occasional irritant to his superiors.”

  “And an interesting challenge to his mother and fiancée.” They both laughed.

  Desi glanced out the diamond of beveled glass in the front door. “Our cab is here.” She opened the door for her future mother-in-law.

  As the cold hit their faces, the woman touched Desi’s shoulder. “Thank you for encouraging this old lady. I think we will need all the cheer we can get in the coming days.”

  Inside the warm taxi, humor faded and uncertainty grew as Desi watched traffic inch along. Major issues loomed like the mountains of snow restricting the road and obstructing the view. Only none of their problems would be so easy to move.

  Eleven

  Desi walked into the hospital waiting room and (bund Max sitting alone, reading a magazine.

  She lifted her head and smiled. “Hey there, girl. You look good enough to knock Tony’s socks off, if he was wearin’ any.”

  Desi’s laugh was weaker than she liked. Time to seriously buck up. “Did Lana and Steve go home to take care of the grandkids?”

  “Nope.” Max shook her red mop. “The kiddos are havin’ a snow-day heyday at the neighbors’ house. They’ve got a brood right around Luke and Emily’s ages. Anything that involves cookies, hot chocolate, and playmates puts us adults out of sight, out of mind.”

  “That’s a load off your shoulders.”

  “You got it.” Max glanced up the hall. “My mother should be back any minute. She scooted down to the little girls’ room, and we left Steve snoozin’ in Tony’s room.” She laughed. “It was so cute. Here we are chattin’ away—well, Mom and I are—and pretty soon a snore comes from the hospital bed. No surprise there, except it’s got an echo from the galoot slouched on the chair in the corner. Mom and I shut off the light and tiptoed out, pinchin’ our lips shut so we didn’t bust a gut before we made our escape.”