Found at Sea

by Anne Marie Duquette

  At a curt command from Roberto, the terrier slunk away. “Mancha isn’t much to look at, but she’s a good watchdog for the women when I’m working. She also keeps mice and snakes out of the house and garden.”

  “Rattlers?” Jordan asked.

  “The mice go after the tortillas. The snakes go after the mice.” Roberto ignored the child tugging at his shirt. “I’m glad you found the place.”

  “Your directions were very clear. And who is this young man?” Aurora asked.

  “Papa, we don’t have to feed them, too, do we?” the boy asked in Spanish.

  “I am not your father,” Roberto replied. “Go help my sister pull weeds. I’ll see you later.” The boy hesitated. Roberto bent down and gave him a firm push toward the house. “Obey me, Barnacle.”

  The child stared one last time, then ran out behind the house, the terrier at his heels.

  “What did you call him?” Aurora asked.

  Roberto shrugged. “Barnacle, since he clings so tight to me, especially around mealtimes. He won’t leave as long as he smells food.”

  “Or sees the kindness in your eyes,” Aurora said softly.

  “He has no real name, nor any real home. Later, you must drive him to the orphanage,” Roberto said brusquely. “The nuns will care for him. It’s too far a walk from here, and I cannot feed all the hungry who follow me home.”

  “We could do that,” Aurora agreed, distressed by the hard facts of life across the border.

  “First things first,” Jordan said. “Let’s go see Dorian and your niece.”

  * * *

  THE PARKING LOT seemed even dirtier and drearier than Aurora remembered from their last visit. Green horseflies buzzed over dirty diapers and donkey dung as the children with the patched football played among the rubble. As she drove in, Aurora watched them run toward the truck. When they recognized Roberto, they realized no money could be made and returned to their game. One boy remembered Jordan from the previous visit and threw the football to him. Jordan tossed it back in a long, spiraling arc. The children ran to catch it as Jordan and Aurora headed toward the visitors’ entrance. Roberto elected to remain with the vehicle.

  “I don’t want the guards becoming too familiar with me,” he said. “I’ll watch the truck.”

  Once they’d been searched, Aurora insisted on seeing Dorian, but as prisoners in the infirmary were allowed only one same-sex visitor, Jordan and Aurora split up. Jordan would wait for her while visiting with Tanya. Aurora headed to the infirmary alone. The germicides and alcohol couldn’t mask the smell of vomit, diarrhea and despair.

  “Dorian.” Her sister’s appearance frightened Aurora so much she actually gasped. Dorian’s skin was almost translucently pale, except for the dark purple bruises around her IV needle and under her eyes.

  Heavy eyelids blinked and opened at the sound of her name. “Aurora? Is that you?”

  “It’s me, sis. It’s visiting hours.” Aurora carefully sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her sister’s hand.

  “You’d better not stay long. I don’t want you to catch whatever I have.” Dorian’s voice was a mere whisper.

  Aurora reined in her emotions tightly and forced herself to speak calmly. “You know me—healthy as a horse. I rarely catch anything. How are you feeling?”

  “Like the Bride of Frankenstein. I’m sure I must look it.” She raised her hand to her hair. To Aurora’s horror, a large clump of it fell off at Dorian’s touch, joining other small clumps on the white pillowcase.

  “What are the doctors doing for you?” Aurora demanded. “What kind of medicine are you on? You have seen a doctor, right?”

  “For all the good it’s done.” Dorian slowly managed the words. “He says this is some new Asian flu—lasts three, four weeks. Other than fluids and antibiotics for...secondary infections like bronchitis...there’s nothing to do but wait it out.”

  “And you’ve been sick...?”

  “Almost two weeks. Feels like forever.”

  “You should be in a hospital,” Aurora said, looking around the room at the sick women filling the beds. To Aurora’s untrained eye, Dorian seemed the worst of the bunch. “A real hospital.”

  “I wish. I only hope Tanya doesn’t catch this. She should be home. We should all be home.” Dorian’s eyes fluttered closed. “I’m tired. I feel terrible.”

  Aurora stroked her sister’s forehead. “I know, sweetheart. I brought you some canned soups and bouillon cubes, plus crackers and lozenges. Olivia has them. What else can I do to help?”

  Dorian spoke, her eyes still closed. “I want you to be a mother to my daughter. Take care of Tanya for me.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Aurora said sharply, hating the sudden turn the conversation had taken. “She doesn’t need me. She has you.”

  This time Dorian opened her eyes. “Just in case... Promise me, Rory. Tanya needs you. Gerald doesn’t understand her.... I don’t understand her. She never listens to us.” Tears rolled down Dorian’s cheeks. “Promise me. I know we’ve had our problems, but I wouldn’t ask anyone else other than you.”

  Aurora’s fingers tightened on her sister’s. “I won’t promise to be her mother,” she whispered. “But I promise to take care of her—and you. Hang on, Dori. I’ll get you out of here. I’m doing my best.”

  “I know. Just...take care of Tanya. Promise,” she repeated.

  “I promise. Now, close your eyes and try to rest.”

  Aurora sat with Dorian until her sister’s fingers relaxed within hers, telling Aurora she finally slept. One of the clinic’s two overworked nurses came by, fussing with Dorian’s covers and offering sympathy. Aurora knew sympathy wouldn’t help. She bent to kiss her sleeping sister’s forehead and went to rejoin Tanya.

  * * *

  JORDAN WAITED with Tanya in front of the young girl’s cell. Olivia also waited; the guard stayed at a polite distance to allow privacy. Tanya looked as if she’d been crying. Olivia didn’t wear her usual stoic expression and she flashed Aurora a sympathetic glance as she passed.

  “How’s your sister?” Jordan asked.

  “Not good,” Aurora replied bleakly. “She thinks she’s dying. I think she’s right.” She couldn’t go on, and Jordan took her hand.

  “I told you, she’s really sick,” Tanya hissed. “We have to get her out. I know a way. I told him.” Tanya jerked her chin toward Jordan.

  Aurora nodded, still unable to speak.

  “We’ll talk about it outside,” Jordan said. “Tanya, do nothing until you hear from us.”

  “Make it fast,” Tanya replied harshly. “We’re running out of time.” Tanya turned away from both of them, but not before she’d reached through the bars and grabbed Aurora’s hand. “Hurry back, Rory. For Mom’s sake.”

  Back outside, the same dismal scene awaited them as before—with one exception. The small, nameless boy stood by the truck and, once again, clung barnacle-like to Roberto’s leg.

  “He refuses to stay home, the little leech. How am I supposed to work with this niño around?” He watched as Aurora lifted the child into her arms. “Señorita...? No, don’t touch the boy! He’s full of lice, and we have no running water.”

  “Lice don’t scare me,” Aurora said. She switched to a slow, basic Spanish she knew the little boy would understand. “Let’s at least give you a name. How about...Alfonso? Do you like that?” Aurora cradled the child, who made no response other than keeping his eyes on Roberto. “Jordan, let’s have Roberto find us a pharmacy and a take-out-food place, then drive to the beach for lunch.”

  She carried the boy into the backseat of the truck and held him in her lap, leaving Jordan and Roberto to ride together in the cab.

  * * *

  THE SOUND OF THE OCEAN failed to soothe Jordan. At the beach, he cleaned off the remains of their lunch—tacos with beans and cans of Coke—from the tailgate of the truck where the four of them had eaten. Though he could hardly say Aurora ate. She barely touched her food. The boy finished
all of his meal, and the rest of hers, in record time. Jordan walked the trash to a battered metal drum chained to an ancient piece of concrete and tossed in the rubbish. The seagulls, hovering boldly, immediately descended on the food wrappers with the same ravenous appetite Alfonso had shown earlier.

  Down the shore, Jordan could see Roberto offering his services to people on the beach, hustling to make a few more pesos. No job was too hard, no pay too small. A good worker, that one. Responsible, reliable, and he has heart. I doubt that excuse for a dog and this child would be alive otherwise.

  Jordan watched Aurora, who crouched by the single pipe rising out of another ancient chunk of concrete, which formed a makeshift public shower. A nearby sign warned Peligro. Agua No Potable. The brackish water couldn’t be drunk, but it was cleaner than seawater. Beneath the makeshift public shower, Aurora combed, rinsed and combed more medicated shampoo through Alfonso’s hair as the boy played with a bright yellow sponge shaped like a duck that she’d bought him.

  She had a soft touch—gentle hands. He’d noticed it when she piloted her ship, and noticed it again now. Strange such a woman didn’t have a man and never fit in with her family. Did she want one of her own? He’d have to ask her sometime. He imagined those hands comforting his children.

  When Aurora finally finished cleaning Alfonso, she wrapped him in a towel, duck still in hand, and carried him the short distance to the truck’s tailgate. She dressed him in a new pair of underpants and a new T-shirt, fresh from the package. The shiny plastic beach sandals she set aside with the boy’s old pants, now washed and drying in the sun on the hood of the truck. His other shirt and underwear she’d thrown away.

  “I wanted to get him some new jeans, but the pharmacy only carried underwear,” Aurora explained. “No proper shoes, either.”

  “He must be five pounds lighter without the dirt,” Jordan observed, watching Alfonso scamper into the bed of the pickup, playing vigorously with the duck. He made the duck jump on Jordan’s back, then off, then onto Jordan’s head.

  “I don’t know if he can afford to lose any weight, dirt or otherwise.” Aurora sank down on the tailgate. “So many desperate children. Those boys at the jail. Olivia’s sick baby. Now this little one. Children without a future... Where does it end?”

  Jordan slung an arm around her shoulders as Alfonso made quacking noises behind them. “How old do you suppose he is?” Jordan asked.

  “I don’t know. Going by size, I’d say maybe three. But his vocabulary is mature. He could be a year or two older. He hasn’t had the healthiest of diets—I wouldn’t be surprised if that stunted his growth.”

  “He ate today.”

  Aurora nodded. “I picked him up some children’s vitamins, too. At least his hair isn’t falling out like Dorian’s.”

  “Is she that sick?” Jordan asked, his voice shocked.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s bad.” Aurora swung around on the tailgate, crossing her legs in front of her. “Dorian was more worried about Tanya, though. I guess this flu thing is pretty contagious. How did Tanya seem to you?”

  “Healthy as ever—and she’s finally using those smarts of hers to good purpose.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told you she’s come up with a plan to break them out of jail. I think it’ll work. Actually, it’s quite brilliant.” Jordan paused.

  “But...?” Aurora urged.

  “But she hasn’t thought it through beyond getting outside the building. Making it safely across the border is a whole other issue.” He glanced at her, eyes narrowed. “You’re not gonna like this, but I don’t think we can rescue them without Roberto’s help.” He went on to explain Tanya’s plan.

  “You’re right,” Aurora said after a moment. “I don’t like it.” She checked on Alfonso, who had stopped quacking and was sleepily rubbing his eyes.

  Jordan scooped him up and nestled him on his lap, the duck still clutched in the boy’s bony fingers.

  “I remember when Tanya was this size,” Aurora said wistfully. “Sweetest baby you ever saw.” She pressed her lips against Alfonso’s still-damp hair as the boy drifted off. “Jordan, we can’t involve Roberto. If he ends up in jail, his whole family will starve.”

  “We don’t have a choice. But I do have some ideas that might help us pull this off....”

  Aurora listened carefully as he told her the rest of the plan—his scheme taking up where Tanya’s left off.

  “It’s dangerous, Jordan. Very dangerous. And we don’t know if Roberto will go along with it. I couldn’t even ask him.”

  “I could, and I did. He’s already agreed. We discussed it on the way down.”

  “Without me?” Aurora asked.

  “I’m discussing it with you now. You’re the one who offered to sponsor Roberto for a green card. He’s not going to back out now.”

  “But what about Gerald? When the people at his prison find out Dorian and Tanya are missing, they won’t let him out.”

  “I already thought of that.” The duck fell from Alfonso’s hand. Jordan picked it up and gently placed it beside him. “They’ll release Gerald...especially if they think Tanya and Dorian are dead.”

  Aurora gasped. “Tanya and Dorian...”

  “You heard me. Dead.”

  Roberto’s house, near Tijuana

  Sunset

  THE CHIPPED DISHES on the table were empty. They’d held a meal of chicken, rice and beans, the ingredients purchased by Jordan and expertly prepared by Roberto’s mother and sister. Señora Marisol Ortega and Yadira, her daughter, rose and began to clear the table. Jordan and Aurora started to assist, but were waved off. As the sole provider and therefore entitled to more rest, Roberto remained in his battered chair, Alfonso in his lap, again clinging tightly to his neck.

  “Yadira, please take this boy outside. He can help you sand the dishes,” Roberto said with authority. “We adults have business to discuss.”

  Yadira, a girl of ten or eleven, nodded. After a slight tussle, she managed to pull Alfonso away from her brother and take him out. Señora Ortega joined the three at the table, the conversation all in Spanish.

  “We’re agreed on the plan, then?” Jordan asked them. “Late tomorrow evening, we spring the jailbirds?”

  Roberto hesitated and exchanged a quick glance with his mother.

  “Is there a problem?” Jordan asked.

  “Mother wants Alfonso to become family—and go with you to San Diego.”

  Jordan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?”

  “She said he reminds her of the brother she lost when she was a girl. She doesn’t want to leave him behind.”

  Roberto and Señora Ortega both started speaking at once.

  “Wait,” Rory interrupted. “I thought you wanted us to deliver Alfonso to the nuns.”

  “I called the orphanage from the public phone at the beach,” Roberto explained. “They’re so overcrowded they won’t take him without the proper paperwork, or at least a family member or government official to vouch for his identification.”

  “How can you prove you’re an orphan if you truly are an orphan? Surely there has to be some procedure for abandoned children,” Aurora said.

  “When the orphanages are full and there is no room, you must prove you are an orphan. That is the procedure,” Roberto insisted. “My mother wants to keep the boy and send him north across the border.”

  “If the nuns won’t take him without the official forms, the guards certainly won’t let him cross,” Jordan argued.

  “You probably are right. This is partly your fault, señorita.” Roberto addressed Aurora.

  “Mine?”

  “My late tío’s name was Alfonso and mi madre’s favorite brother. She says your naming the boy after her uncle is a sign from El Señor and now is determined to keep him. I’ve tried to talk her out of it, but...” Roberto shrugged.

  Señora Ortega finally spoke. “The plans have changed. Roberto will acquire paperwork for the boy, as well. We will
claim him once we are legally in San Diego. Alfonso must have his own papers.”

  “You mean phony records for a child to be smuggled across the border? Along with two escaped felons?” Jordan said, pushing away from the table. “This is getting way too complicated. We were going to do this as legitimately as possible, remember? Green card for Roberto, family later. The death certificate for Dorian was only to buy us time when the guards discover that her bed’s empty and she’s missing.”

  Roberto politely disagreed by shrugging again.

  “Just where are you getting all this paperwork anyway?” Jordan asked him.

  “I told you, I have a friend whose uncle works for the government. For a small fee, he will be willing to help us out. He needs extra money to put my friend through university. Schooling is expensive in Mexico—very expensive.”

  “Does this whole country run on the bribery system?” Jordan asked irritably.

  “All countries do,” Roberto said calmly, “but in our country, extra dinero is often needed for those wanting miracles. Like medical care or placement in overcrowded orphanages or advanced schooling—or prison breaks.”

  Roberto’s mother nodded as her son continued.

  “The paperwork will be good. I will also provide any false paperwork needed for the señorita’s women,” Roberto said. “No Alfonso, no paperwork for the sister and niece.”

  Jordan took in the determined face of Roberto and his mother. “As you wish,” he said.

  “Mi madre wishes it. I apologize for not leaving you any other choice.”

  Silence filled the makeshift kitchen.

  “Very well,” Aurora said to break the tension, switching to English. “We’ll take Alfonso with us, and the rest of the plan can stand as is. The death certificate will make it look like my sister and niece are...” Aurora couldn’t say the word. “Gone. The guards will think their bodies have been taken to a morgue. Even if they do discover the truth, that should take them a while—which buys us time. Jordan and I drive Alfonso across the border, together with my sister and niece. We’ll keep him until I get your green card and you come to join us. I’ll take good care of him.”