Year of the Monsoon

by Caren J. Werlinger

  “I know,” Maddie nodded. “And Florida’s police record didn’t indicate any family in the States.”

  “Who do you think he is then?” Leisa asked.

  Maddie shrugged. “Pimp? Dealer? Those are my guesses. What I do know is that he’s not asking for Mariela because he has paternal feelings for her. He wants something from her. I just don’t know what it could be.”

  Leisa looked alarmed. “Surely, no one would order her handed over to him?”

  Maddie’s eyes glinted angrily. “Not if I can help it.”

  “It happens to all of us, if we’re there long enough,” Maddie had said to Lyn when she first saw the connection between Leisa and Mariela. “We fall in love,” she said wistfully, and Lyn knew Maddie was thinking of Tobias.

  Tobias Baker was the youngest child of Mathias and Loretta Baker, of whom the caseworker from Social Services had said, “I swear those two were related before they got married and bred.” Tobias was different from all the other Bakers. Where his elder siblings had all been dim-witted and had missed more school than they attended, Tobias was intelligent, and lived for a kind word or a hug. Despite his smelly clothes and unkempt straw-colored hair, when Tobias’s grubby face broke into a smile, he could charm anyone.

  He was pulled out of the home briefly a few times, but was always returned to his parents who angrily insisted they would school him at home, “the Lord’s way.” Always, he managed to talk his mother into letting him return to school where, despite his obvious disadvantages at home, he quickly made up ground from his lapses in getting any real education. He finally came to Maddie and St. Joseph’s when it was discovered that he had suffered a broken arm, most likely at the hands of his father, although it could never be proven. Toby’s elbow was permanently crooked because the fracture had never been properly set. The bond between Tobias and Maddie was instant and deep. It was Maddie’s first year as director, and “I’m trying so hard not to show any favoritism,” she told Lyn, “but I love that little boy.”

  Tobias had been at St. Joseph’s for about three months when he was once again ordered to be returned to his parents’ custody despite overwhelming evidence from social workers, teachers and neighbors that the Bakers were abusive and that Tobias would be in grave danger.

  “I promise to be good,” he cried as he clung to Maddie.

  “Oh, honey, you’re not being punished. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Maddie murmured as she knelt and held him tightly, choking on her own tears. “The judge said you should be back with your mom and dad. But I’ll come see you soon, okay?” The social worker had to pull him loose. “I promise,” Maddie said through the car window as he was driven away.

  But the very night Tobias got home, his mother locked the two of them in his room and poured gasoline around the bed. Mr. Baker told authorities later that Loretta had only said that no one would ever take Tobias from her again. All anyone could do was watch as the house burnt to the ground.

  Maddie channeled her grief into a campaign to have that judge removed from the bench. She personally went door to door with a petition; she got churches and civic organizations involved with more petitions and protests in front of the courthouse; she got Baltimore news stations to air Tobias’s story.

  “He has no idea what he has unleashed,” Lyn said.

  In the end, the judge was promoted to a federal appeals court. “I don’t care,” Maddie swore, “as long as the bastard can never hurt another child.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Maddie repeated, more to herself than to Leisa.

  “Good,” Leisa sighed in relief. It had already crossed her mind in a wild, fleeting thought that she would take Mariela and flee before she would let that man have her.

  As if she could read Leisa’s mind, Maddie narrowed her eyes and said, “I promise. I won’t let anything happen to her. Oh, and we got the burial service for Mariela’s mother scheduled for the Saturday before Easter.”

  “Oh no,” Leisa groaned as she sifted through the mail, and held up a hand-addressed envelope from an Eleanor Miller in Ithaca, New York. “Not today.”

  She deposited the mail on the kitchen counter and let Bron out the back door where the little dog promptly chased all the birds out of her yard. Leisa went back to the kitchen and picked up the envelope. She was supposed to have dinner with Jo and Bruce tonight, and was planning on telling them about the adoption registry. After her dinner with Nan, she realized she couldn’t keep this from them any longer, but it suddenly seemed more complicated if this letter turned out to be from her biological mother. Her heart was beating rapidly as she pried open the flap. Taking a deep breath, she removed the contents. A photo fell from the folded paper within. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment before reading,

  Dear Margaret Marie,

  I know that’s not your name now, but it’s what you’ve always been to me. I was so excited to receive your address and other information. You probably have many questions to ask me. I can’t help but wonder what you look like now and what you’ve become. You might be interested to know that you have a half-brother named Donald. He is 28. I am divorced now. I work as an administrative assistant to a dean at our university here.

  I am enclosing a photo of Donny and me. Please send me a reply and a photo of yourself when you can.

  Leisa picked up the photo again. Eleanor was a moderately attractive woman who looked as if she was in her late fifties, plump with blondish hair and gray-green eyes behind large eyeglasses. Donny was pudgy, dark-haired and pale. Leisa didn’t feel any connection to him at all, but she stared at Eleanor’s image, for the first time in her life seeing someone she looked like.

  She suddenly felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom where she threw up. This was the third time she’d vomited in the last few days.

  “I must be coming down with something,” she muttered as she rinsed her face and mouth with cold water.

  She ate a few saltines, trying to settle her stomach before facing her aunt and uncle. Jo Ann and Bruce had always been there for her, a second set of parents. She’d always been able to talk to them, even when she couldn’t talk to her own parents.

  “You’ve got to be honest with your father,” Bruce had advised her at age seventeen when she confided that she wanted to quit the job her dad had obtained for her with one of his long-time customers. It was a sales job and she hated it.

  “But Dad helped me get this job,” she fretted. “I don’t want to make him look bad.”

  “As long as you handle it professionally, it will be okay,” Bruce said as he planed a board for a table he was making. “You give Mr. Thompson at least two weeks’ notice so he has time to look for someone else, and you do your best work until you’re done.” He grinned at her. “There’s nothing that can’t be dealt with if you’re honest about it.”

  Sitting at the kitchen table now, she cradled her forehead on her arms, trying to calm her stomach. When it was time to leave, she called Bronwyn and leashed her for the walk to the Gallagher house. All the trees were leafing out, casting deeper shadows in between the lit patches of pavement under the streetlamps. At the end of their block, Leisa turned left toward her aunt and uncle’s house, but there was sudden tension on the leash as Bron tried to go the other way, toward Nan.

  “No, we’re not going there tonight,” she said as Bron looked at her from the far end of the taut leash. “C’mon,” she cajoled with a firmer tug on the leather. Bron sat down, a tactic she had learned as a puppy when she was ready for a rest or wanted to sniff something a bit longer. For a small dog, she was amazingly strong, with a low center of gravity that made her hard to move. She was also amazingly stubborn.

  “It’s a good thing she’s adorable,” Nan used to laugh when Leisa would get red in the face trying to train Bronwyn who was quietly training them. Or not so quietly. Like when they thought hanging a sleigh bell on the back door would be a good way for her to let them know when she needed to go out. Soon, she was ringing the bell ev
ery fifteen minutes.

  “Well, we learned very quickly how to respond to that stimulus, didn’t we?” Nan observed ruefully as she untied the bell.

  Now, Leisa stared at Bron who stared back, still not moving.

  “We don’t have time for this, you stubborn beast,” Leisa grumbled as she picked Bron up and carried her in the direction they needed to go. After about fifty yards, she set the dog down. “Now let’s go.”

  Bronwyn gave up and trotted toward Jo Ann and Bruce’s house like this was her plan all along. When they got to the house, Leisa knocked and opened the door.

  “In the kitchen,” Jo called.

  Bron trotted in to say hello, and Leisa followed.

  “Oh, it seems like ages since we’ve seen you,” Jo Ann said as she hugged Leisa tightly. She held her at arms’ length and searched her face. “Are you feeling all right? You look pale.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not feeling very good,” Leisa admitted. “So don’t be offended if I don’t eat much.”

  At the table, she took tiny helpings and, bracing herself, began telling her aunt and uncle about registering to find her biological mother. She tried to gauge their reaction as she talked.

  “Did they say how long it might be before you hear back?” Jo asked.

  “Well,” Leisa said, “I’ve already heard back.”

  “You’ve heard from her already?” Bruce asked in surprise.

  Leisa nodded. “I guess she was already registered, and all they needed was for me to register also.”

  Jo Ann tried not to look worried. “It sounds like she really wanted to find you.”

  Leisa looked from one of them to the other. “You’re okay with this?”

  “Of course we are,” Bruce assured her, laying a large hand on her shoulder as she slumped with relief.

  “Were you afraid to tell us about this?” Jo asked.

  “Kind of,” Leisa admitted. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “We’ve been prepared for this for thirty-five years, honey,” Jo Ann reminded her. “The only thing that would hurt us is losing you.”

  Leisa smiled in relief. “That will never happen.”

  Chapter 13

  LEISA GROANED AS SHE used the armrests on her desk chair to gently lower herself to the seat. Her legs were so sore from yesterday’s workout that she could barely walk. It had been her first time back at the gym since her dinner with Nan. Partly because she’d been busy. Partly because she felt guilty about not telling Nan about Sarah. When she got there, she glanced around to see if Sarah was in the weight room with a client. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see her.

  “Hey.”

  Leisa stiffened and turned to see Sarah coming out from behind the staff desk.

  “Hi.” Leisa forced a smile.

  “I was starting to think you weren’t going to come back,” Sarah said teasingly. Leisa wasn’t sure if she was only imagining the taunt in Sarah’s eyes.

  “I’ve been busy at work.”

  “What are you doing these days?” Sarah asked as she handed Leisa a towel and herded her toward the weight room.

  “I’m a social worker at a home for orphaned and abandoned kids.”

  “Really?” Sarah paused in the midst of pulling on a pair of weightlifting gloves. Leisa tried not to let her eyes drift down to the muscles she could see rippling in Sarah’s arms.

  Leisa felt a grim satisfaction at the fact that she was doing something more worthwhile to society than working in a gym, until she remembered that Sarah was probably making a lot more money than she was. She realized Sarah was leading her toward a squat rack.

  “Don’t you have a client?” she asked hopefully.

  “No,” Sarah smiled. “I’m done for the evening and I was going to work out anyway, so how about working out with me?”

  Unable to quickly think of a reason why not, Leisa allowed Sarah to take her through a lower body routine that soon had her legs trembling.

  “I love this workout,” Sarah growled as she finished her last couple of repetitions on the knee extension machine. “This is better than sex!”

  Leisa scoffed as she dropped onto an empty bench. “You definitely need better sex,” she retorted before she realized what she was saying. She could feel the flush creeping up her neck to her cheeks.

  Sarah got off the machine and leaned close. “You’re right,” she whispered conspiratorially. “But I remember when it used to be incredible.”

  Leisa leaned down to re-tie her shoe, waiting for Sarah to move away. “I don’t think my legs will take any more tonight,” she said to the floor.

  “How about going to grab something to eat?” Sarah suggested.

  “I don’t think –” Leisa protested.

  “Oh, come on. You should eat right away after that workout, and I’d like to catch up with you,” Sarah insisted. “You’re not afraid to have dinner with me, are you?”

  A few minutes later, Leisa found herself seated across from Sarah in a dark corner of a tavern near the gym. Sarah talked freely about her marriage and divorce, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the marriage had coincided with her painful breakup with Leisa. Or maybe not so painful for her, Leisa realized.

  “And what about you? What about this?” Sarah asked, reaching out to take Leisa’s left hand, twirling the ring there, her eyes scanning Leisa’s face curiously.

  “Me?” Leisa stalled, uncomfortably aware of the other people sitting nearby. She sat back and pulled her hand from Sarah’s. She swirled her ice water in the glass so that the ice clinked rhythmically, filling the brief silence as she tried to figure out how to answer. “I’m with someone. Ten years,” she added, forcing herself to smile and look up.

  “A woman?”

  “Of course,” Leisa answered sharply. Suddenly furious, she bit off the scathing reply that leapt to her lips.

  “For years, you’ve fantasized about having the opportunity to tell her what a hypocrite she was for loving women, and only marrying for social approval,” Leisa would say to herself later, “and when you had the chance, you couldn’t do it. You are such a goddamned coward.”

  Leisa felt confused, off-balance. She didn’t understand where all these volatile emotions were coming from. All the garbage with Sarah was years in the past. Why did it suddenly feel so raw?

  “But… she’s not working out with you?” Sarah pressed, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the table. Leisa tried not to stare at the cleavage showing above her sports bra.

  “She works evenings.” Leisa glanced at her watch. “I really need to get going.”

  Sarah accompanied Leisa to her car in the dimly lit parking lot. Leisa unlocked her door and turned to find Sarah standing very close.

  “Does she ever tell you how beautiful you are?” Sarah asked softly. When Leisa didn’t answer, Sarah brushed her fingers over Leisa’s bare arm. She smiled a little as Leisa shivered, but didn’t pull away.

  Leisa felt hypnotized, powerless as she looked into Sarah’s eyes, like a bird hypnotized by a snake. Sarah drew closer and kissed her.

  Sitting at her desk, Leisa closed her eyes, remembering the wetness, the softness of that kiss, the slightly salty taste of Sarah’s mouth, the heat of her body as she pressed Leisa against the car, the way her body had responded to the touch of Sarah’s hands….

  “Stop!” she whispered angrily to herself. She grabbed her open file drawer and slammed it shut.

  “Whoa,” Maddie said from behind her, making Leisa jump. “What was that about?”

  Leisa’s face burned. “Nothing,” she muttered, turning back to her desk.

  “Okay,” Maddie said, clearly unconvinced. She held out a series of police mug shots. “Meet Pedro Alarcon.”

  Leisa stared at the images of the man who had been in Maddie’s office a few days ago. “He really does have a record?”

  “Yup. Drugs mostly. He’s been investigated for more than one murder, all women, probably the ones he
was pimping, but the police could never find any others who would testify. Too scared. So he got off.”

  Leisa looked up. “You don’t think he killed Mariela’s mother, do you?”

  Maddie shrugged. “I don’t think so. She definitely died of an overdose. But what if the heroin wasn’t hers? What if she took some she was supposed to deliver to someone else? I don’t know what he wants with Mariela, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

  Leisa heard a car horn beep. “You stay here,” she said to Bronwyn as she backed out the front door, locking it behind her. She ran to Jo Ann and Bruce’s car.

  “Ready?” Bruce asked as she got into the back seat and buckled up.

  Within twenty minutes, they were pulling into the parking lot at St. Joseph’s. She led the way into the old school gymnasium where chairs had been set up facing a table draped with a colorful woven cloth.

  Maddie had insisted that any child who wished to attend could come to the funeral for Mariela’s mother.

  “We shelter children from death so that they’re afraid of it. Most of these kids have seen the ugly, violent side of death. With this funeral, there won’t be a body, nothing to scare them. Linus will make it beautiful.”

  Father Linus Chappa was a young Franciscan priest who volunteered part-time at the Home.

  “He cannot be a priest. He looks like he’s sixteen,” Leisa had muttered to Maddie the first time she saw him.

  “I know.” Maddie smiled broadly, watching Linus as he crouched at the foosball table in his jeans and t-shirt with his shaggy blond hair and long sideburns. “But the kids love him.”

  The love affair was mutual. Linus loved the kids, too. He had described Mariela’s heart-breaking situation to his superior, Father Ignatius, who cautioned, “Do not assume this girl is innocent, simply because she is young. She has undoubtedly seen, and possibly experienced, more than you and I combined.”