by Sylvia Nobel
“Guess you heard I’ll be chauffeuring Ginger’s family with me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s really nice of you. I’ll…be along just as soon as I finish up here,” I said, plunging my hands into the soapy water. The glint of speculation in his dark eyes made me cringe inside, but he didn’t say another word, just turned and walked out.
I closed my eyes and sighed. He had to know and I felt like a naughty schoolgirl caught smoking in the bathroom. The instant his truck left, I was out the door and in my car heading towards the Hispanic community located south of the railroad tracks. I kicked around the idea of phoning Lupe but dismissed it. The element of surprise might yield better results. As I entered the narrow labyrinth of streets crowded with bars, rundown shacks and boarded up buildings, bright moonbeams filtering through the tall tamarisk trees illuminated the occasional shadowy figure ambling by. My shoulders tensed. On second thought, this might not be the safest place in town for a single Anglo woman. Oh well.
I’d been to Lupe’s place only once before, but that had been during the day. Now all of the ramshackle trailer parks looked alike and I couldn’t remember the name of hers. Rats! Without the benefit of streetlights, I had to rely solely on the full moon as I drove along the unpaved roads looking for something familiar. I was close to kicking myself in defeat when I spotted the water tower. Of course! It stood near the entrance to her park. I turned into the entrance marked Shady Grove, cruising slowly, until I saw her car adjacent to the dimpled silver Airstream trailer at the end of the second row.
I parked a few spaces away and got out. The warm night air was filled with the sounds of music, kids crying and dogs barking. A dim light glowed in one tightly curtained window when I rapped on the metal door. I thought I heard movement inside, but then nothing. I knocked again and called softly, “Lupe? It’s Kendall. I want to talk to you.”
The light went out and I sighed with annoyance. What kind of a game was she playing? “Come on, Lupe, open the door. I know you’re in there.”
Silence prevailed for another few seconds and then the door edged open a crack. I could barely make out her face in the light from nearby trailers. “I can’t talk to you.” Her words sounded muffled, like she’d been crying.
“Why not?”
“I just…can’t.”
“Is this about Walter’s silly story?”
Silence.
“Okay then, if this has something to do with your job…”
“I…I might not be coming back to work. I have to go away for awhile.”
My stomach dropped to my shoes. “Oh no. Please don’t tell me that. You know Al’s scheduled to be gone for a wedding three days next week. I can’t leave Tugg with no one to handle advertising.”
She choked, “I’m sorry.”
I stood there watching my vacation vaporize before my eyes along with my promise to Tally. But the tragic pitch of Lupe’s voice superceded both problems.
“Look, whatever it is, maybe I can help...”
“No one can help me.”
“Why not?”
“Because…I’ve done something very, very bad.”
“Let me in, Lupe. Right now.”
She hesitated at my tone of authority, then the lamp flashed on and without further protest she turned away, leaving the door open. I stepped inside and shut it behind me.
She collapsed in a heap on the frayed loveseat in the tiny living room and wept uncontrollably into a dishtowel. I sat down on an adjacent wicker chair and patted her shoulder, waiting for her to regain control, wondering what kind of trouble she was in. It struck me that I really knew almost nothing about her other than what was in her personnel file. She’d begun her career at the newspaper as a carrier, advanced to the pressroom and finally worked her way into classified ads where she’d been for the past two years. About her personal life though, I knew nothing.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked when her sobs subsided and she raised her tear-stained face. She nodded wordlessly and I walked the three steps to a kitchen so small it looked like it belonged in a dollhouse. Pity for her meager living conditions blended with feelings of profound dread. What shocking information was she hiding? Did I really want to know? I opened several cupboard doors, snagged a glass and filled it from the tap. “Here.” I handed her the glass and sat down again. “I’m listening whenever you’re ready to talk.”
She took a few tentative sips, but seemed to be having trouble swallowing. Finally she quavered, “You’re my boss. I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“I’m also your friend, okay? And I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head. “You won’t believe me anyway.”
“Try me.” My tone conveyed more bravado than I felt.
She stared straight ahead, hollow-eyed, before returning her gaze to me. “You can’t tell a soul. Not even Tally.” She picked up a well-worn Bible from the side table and placed my hand on it. “Promise.”
“Lupe, I don’t know if…”
“Promise, or I won’t tell you one word.”
3
I hesitated several seconds, but it was long enough for two conflicting thoughts to flash through my mind. The adventurous side of me wanted desperately to know her secret, but at the same instant, the logical part of my brain screamed for me to hit the door running before I involved myself further. I contemplated the steadfast intensity of her gaze a split second longer before answering, to my own surprise, “All right. I promise.”
She sat unmoving and I could tell by her anguished expression that she was still waging an inner battle. Then suddenly, she blinked as if coming out of a trance. She set the Bible down and rose her to feet, pacing the small room several times before stopping to face me. “The story Walter told about the man at Morita...the one about the alien abductions…I think it has to be true.”
My mouth sagged open. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I know it sounds loco, but I’ve been down there the past two weekends searching for some clue…anything.” She drew in a shallow breath, whispering, “But there is not a single trace of them.”
An uneasy feeling nudged me. “Trace of who?”
A look of pure misery clouded her features. “My brother, Gilberto, and my Uncle Raymond both disappeared ten days ago.”
I gawked in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Lupe, get real. There’s no way…”
Angry tears jumped to her eyes. “See? I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” She marched to the door and yanked it open. “You can go now.” The rock-hard gleam in her steady gaze punctuated the finality of her words.
At that moment I really didn’t know what to think of her outburst but I put up an obliging hand. “Calm down. It’s just that…well, that’s a pretty amazing statement.” I patted the chair next to me. “Why don’t you sit down here and start at the beginning. I’m sure there’s a reasonable….”
“There is a witness.”
“To the…ah…abduction?” It was an effort to conceal my skepticism.
“Yes. He claims he is the only one who got away from…from the sky people.”
Her preposterous statement sent a shock wave through me. “Okay. I’m ready to hear more.”
She closed the door, returned to the sofa and sat with clenched fists to her lips for another long minute before saying in a barely audible voice, “I feel like I am dying inside. I honestly don’t know what to do or where to turn for help.”
I shifted uneasily. “So…I gather you haven’t reported this situation to the authorities—sheriff, Border Patrol, INS?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Her quick glance reflected a mixture of exasperation and chagrin. “Don’t you understand? I can’t. If la migra, you know, the INS finds out what I’ve done…they’ll deport me.”
The thought that there was still time to cut and run did occur to me,
but she looked so distraught, I was unable to move an inch. “Lupe, why don’t you start at the real beginning of the story?”
She hung her head, avoiding my eyes. “You have probably figured out that I’m not here legally. My green card is counterfeit and so is my driver’s license.”
My heart sank like a stone, but I maintained a stoic expression. “Go on.”
“I came across with my stepfather, but he…he got into some trouble….” Her voice trailed off.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Smuggling drugs. He shot a Border Patrol agent…and now he’s in prison.”
“Christ.” “I had everything planned so carefully,” she said, nervously kneading her hands. “I have worked like a slave to send money home all these years to help the rest of my family have a better life, but much of it went for my mother’s sickness.” Her thick dark hair fell across her face when she bowed her head again and fingered the silver crucifix at her neck. “It was never enough, Kendall. Never enough. No matter how much I sent. God finally took her last month.”
I put my hand over hers. “I’m so sorry.” Words seemed totally inadequate.
She swiped away fresh tears. “You know, it’s bad enough that I was not there with her when she died, but now I have to live with what I have done.” Renewed panic lit her eyes so I kept my voice low, soothing. “What exactly did you do, Lupe?” Her hangdog expression had me holding my breath.
“I paid a coyote to bring them across the border.”
I cocked my head. “Your brother and uncle?”
She nodded.
My insides went hollow. “How much?”
“Three thousand dollars.”
“Oh, man.” I’d read stories like this where the smugglers accepted the money and then abandoned the people in the desert. “Why would you even consider becoming involved in something like this? Why couldn’t your relatives wait and apply to enter the country legally?”
She flicked me a look of disbelief. “¡Dios Mio! That could take years! Do you know how hard it is to find any kind of decent paying work in my homeland or to put food on the table? Do you have any idea of what it’s like just to even survive there?” Her Hispanic accent grew more pronounced as her agitation increased.
I stared at her a few seconds before answering quietly, “I guess I don’t.”
In a halting voice she recounted an existence burdened with poverty, crime, illness and living conditions so wretched I could hardly believe she was talking about life in this century, let alone a country within a few hour’s drive of where we now sat.
When she finished, I glanced around again at her sparse living conditions and thought about all the overtime hours she worked, her weekend jobs, the crappy old car she drove, her meager wardrobe. Where was my brain? I should have guessed long ago. It struck me also that the newspaper could be in trouble by having an undocumented worker in our employ. It seemed no matter what direction we took someone was going to suffer. A rush of sympathy engulfed me when I thought of Tally’s dilemma with his ranch hands. What a strange coincidence that we should both experience the identical problem the same night. “Lupe, tell me more about this witness. Is he still around? Have you talked with him?”
“Not directly.” She looked away from me again and my sense of unease heightened. Why the furtive behavior? “Is this the same guy Walter was talking about?”
“No. The information comes from a small boy.”
I was dumbfounded. “A boy? How old?”
“Four, maybe five.”
I sat back hard, staring at her. “Let me get this straight. You’re ready to quit your job, go traipsing around the desert hunting for who knows what, and risk getting yourself deported, all on the basis of some fairy tale told by a kid you haven’t even talked to?”
Her jaw tightened. “Sister Goldenrod thinks he’s telling the truth.”
“Sister Goldenrod? And who on earth is she?” I hadn’t realized my voice was rising until Lupe chided, “You don’t need to shout. I thought you were going listen to the whole story?”
I held out my hand in a placating gesture. “You’re right. I did promise.”
“She is the one who put me in touch with the coyote in the first place.”
“And?”
“She called this afternoon to tell me about this little boy.”
I couldn’t decide whether the story was getting better or worse as she relayed the tale of the Guiding Light Mission, which served as a sort of unofficial halfway house for illegal immigrants. The woman calling herself Sister Goldenrod was the minister at the small church located less than a mile from the border town of Sasabe.
“Sasabe? Is that southwest of Tucson?”
“Yes. Why?”
Hadn’t Tally mentioned helping out a rancher friend of his in that area several times in the past few months? I wished now I’d paid more attention to him. “Oh, nothing. Go on.”
According to Lupe, Sister Goldenrod administered shelter, food and comfort to the local homeless population and to the hardy souls who were lucky enough to make it across the miles of desolate landscape and evade the Border Patrol. She didn’t believe that she was doing anything wrong and stubbornly maintained that she was merely doing the Lord’s work.
A young family who had recently crossed over happened upon little Javier wandering in the desert. He was severely dehydrated and hallucinating about space aliens having supposedly waylaid the van where he and others had been hiding. Unwilling, or unable to take the boy with them, the couple had left him at the mission where he was now in the Sister’s care. The problem, Lupe explained, was that the child appeared so traumatized by the event he couldn’t remember many details. And even Sister Goldenrod, with her kind ministrations, had been unable to coax the boy out from under his bed because he maintained that the aliens might find him.
“I think hallucination is the operative word here,” I said, watching her crestfallen expression. “Look, obviously something happened, but it’s pretty farfetched to believe that we’re dealing with a UFO abduction.”
“Then where is my family?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m afraid that without the assistance of the authorities in that area you don’t stand a chance in hell of ever finding them.”
She glared at me. “Are you saying I should forget about them?”
“Of course not. We just need to think of a way to approach this that won’t get you deported.” My gaze strayed to my watch and I flinched in surprise. Good heavens! Tally and the gang were expecting me at Angelina’s. How was I going to explain being over an hour late? At that second, my cell phone bleated a ‘low battery’ warning and handed me the excuse I needed to explain why I hadn’t called.
Lupe must have noticed my discomfort because she rose from her chair and said apologetically, “Thanks for listening. I know there’s nothing you can do, but just talking about it has helped.”
It may have helped Lupe, but I doubted I’d be sleeping tonight. “Look, I don’t want you running around down there asking questions and drawing attention to yourself. Maybe an immigration lawyer could tell us what your status is. Let me give it some thought,” I said, picking up my purse. “Maybe I could make a few calls….” Lupe’s sharp intake of breath arrested my words. "What?”
Realization gleamed in her smoky eyes. “You’re right,” she said softly. “I can’t ask the authorities for help…but you can.”
Speechless, I stared at her for a few seconds. “Me? How?”
“Don’t you see? You’re a reporter! No one is going to think it’s strange if you are asking the questions.”
She was absolutely right. No one would think it the least bit odd. But, as her proposal sunk in, equal parts of consternation and excitement churned inside me. My reporter’s intuition whispered, ‘Go for it! This might be a great story,’ while my rational side warned, ‘Reality check, what abo
ut you and Tally?’ I shook my head sadly. “Lupe, I can’t. As tempting as it sounds….”
“Please,” she choked, collapsing to her knees in front of me. “Come with me, even if it’s just for a few days. I don’t have anyone else to turn to.” She buried her head in her hands, sobbing hysterically. “Please help me find out what happened to them!”
Pity squeezed my heart. What should I do? How could I just ignore her anguished plea? I patted her shoulder while thinking that there must be a way to assist her without jeopardizing my trip with Tally. I did some quick calculations. We weren’t planning to leave until Tuesday anyway, so…what if I took the next few days to do a little detective work and got back in time to leave on schedule? What would be the harm in that? “When were you planning to leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, how does this sound? I’ll go with you and see what I can find out, but only if you promise to do me a favor in return.”
Her bloodshot eyes mirrored uncertainty. “What?”
“We’ll take separate cars and you’ll come back to work on Monday morning, then Tugg won’t be left hanging. I’ll have three full days to snoop around and still get back in time to leave with Tally on Tuesday. That way, everybody should be happy. And if I don’t come up with anything substantial, I give you my word I’ll take the last few days of my vacation when I get back from California and we’ll make an additional trip. It’s that or nothing.”
The seconds ticked by as she considered my proposition and finally nodded her acquiescence. “Okay.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Sort of. The plan sounded plausible, but getting it past Tally presented the next major obstacle, considering that my obvious subterfuge tonight put me at a distinct disadvantage when it came to presenting my side of the argument that was sure to arise. Lupe and I talked for several more minutes and then she accompanied me outside. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” she said with a tremulous smile. “I’m sorry to cause all this trouble.”
“No need to apologize.”
“I feel so bad about spoiling Ginger’s party.” She gestured towards her car. “The other pan of enchiladas is on the back seat. Do you want to take it back to her house?”
