by Wind, Ruth
She looked where she touched, the fluttering pulse strong in her throat. He didn’t move, and she was glad of his patience, glad of the heat and calm in his liquid eyes. “It scares me to want anything,” she said.
“A kiss isn’t such a big thing.”
“Maybe not to you.” She traced the clean, straight edge of his jaw. “It is to me.”
Gently, slowly, he lifted a hand and smoothed hair from her face. “Not so much to win or lose, in a kiss.”
Tanya raised her eyes to his infinitely dark, infinitely patient gaze. Suddenly she remembered sitting next to him at a card table covered with layers of blue, green and white tissue paper while a Spanish band sang a sad ballad she didn’t understand, and wondering what it would be like to kiss him. The memory startled her—she must have repressed it, trying to remove any feeling of guilt she felt for that day.
Now, with small movements of her fingers, she urged him closer. Very slowly, he tilted his head and bent toward her. His breath, smelling faintly of the mint he’d eaten after lunch, brushed her face, warm and moist.
Their lips touched. His were full and firm, pliant and undemanding. Gently, he kissed her. Gently he moved ever so slightly closer, putting his hand under her hair. His thumb moved against her earlobe. She opened her eyes when he pulled back, and he met her gaze soberly, dipping to kiss her again. His hair curled around her fingers. His shoulder bumped her wrist.
It was only a dance of lips, a simple, warm exploration, and Tanya felt the terrible panic and tension leave her on a sigh.
Ramón straightened, his hand smoothing over her shoulder. “See, not so scary.”
Tanya smiled at him, warmed clear through. “It was just your astonishing presence that scared me.”
He laughed. “You made a joke.”
“There’s hope for me yet.”
“Oh, there’s always been hope for you, Tanya. Always.”
Tanya looked toward the window, a pungent ache in her chest. There were two sides to every coin life passed. Victor had been the dark side; Ramón was the bright. “I’m so grateful to you, Ramón. I don’t know how I would have survived all this without your help.”
“Was that kiss one of gratitude, then?” he asked softly.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t think so, either.” He took his hands from her shoulders and leaned over to pick up their books. He gave Tanya hers to carry. “We should get back to the ranch.”
Tanya had the feeling she had disappointed him in some way, but she was not sure how. No, that was a lie. It was dangerous to start lying to herself. She didn’t have to share her feelings or observations, but she had to claim them, keep herself in touch with what she really felt. It was the only way to stay healthy and strong, able to cope with the changes her life had required.
Honesty. Clasping her books to her chest, she knew she had allowed Ramón to think she was expressing mere gratitude when she kissed him. Even more than allowing him to come to his own conclusions—she’d planted the idea.
It wasn’t true, of course. Her wish to kiss him had nothing at all to do with gratitude and everything to do with desire.
He undoubtedly knew that. She rubbed her forehead. Maybe that was where the disappointment lay—in her lack of honesty. A vague, formless guilt tugged her. Maybe she shouldn’t have allowed him to get so close. She shouldn’t have allowed her emotions to show so blatantly on her face. Maybe—Ramón stopped dead in the middle of a dark narrow aisle and turned around. With a suddenness that surprised her, he bent and pressed another kiss to her mouth. This time, his body touched hers, chest to chest, leg to leg. The kiss carried a strong edge of hunger. The insistent thrust of his tongue sent a sharp response through her middle.
“It wasn’t gratitude, Tanya. A million years ago, we were attracted to each other and we still are.” He put his forehead against hers and rubbed her jaw with his thumb. “It isn’t wrong, and it also doesn’t have to go anywhere.”
She looked at him. “I don’t know how to do that,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Be lighthearted about things like kisses and feeling attracted to you.”
He lifted his well-shaped head, and the devilish version of his devastating smile showed off his white teeth and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He winked. “Stick with me, kid.”
Tanya only smiled. She doubted anyone could teach her to lighten up, but if anyone could, it was Ramón.
Chapter Eight
Dear Antonio,
It’s the small things that make you crazy. Like never going to the grocery store. I never liked it all that much, to tell you the truth, but right now it would be such a big pleasure to push a basket through the produce section and smell the onions and potatoes, see the pale green cabbages and dark kale and mottled butter lettuce, all piled up and dotted with silver water, reflected in the mirrors. I’d love to pick out peaches and put them in a bag to make a pound.
I’d love to examine packages of stew meat and pick out the best one, the one without too much fat. And I’d love to bring the groceries in and put them away on a stormy afternoon, knowing we were safe as I made tuna fish sandwiches and tomato soup. Little things mean a lot, Antonio. If you can focus on the little things, the big ones won’t hit you so hard.
Love, Mom
As they stepped out on the street, Tanya spied a Disabled American Veterans’ store on the corner, and remembered Zach’s ragged jacket. “Do we have time to stop in the DAV?” she asked.
“Money burning a hole in your pocket?”
Tanya realized he might not approve of her taking a personal interest in one of the boys. “I noticed this morning that Zach’s jacket is too small. I’d like to see if I could find him another one. Would that be all right?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
Inside, she made her way to the racks of boys’ clothes and flipped through the coats. “He seems very young to be in the program,” Tanya commented, tugging an army green surplus jacket off the rack. It was in good shape, but too small. She put it back.
“Zach?” Ramón took out a long black raincoat, and Tanya watched him put his hands on it, feeling it as he looked at it. “He was arrested sixteen times on petty theft and burglary. His mother kept him out of foster homes somehow or another, but she’d been doing drugs a long time, and died last spring.” He put the raincoat back and pulled out a jean jacket to show Tanya, rubbing the sleeve between his fingersas if to gauge the weight. “This one?”
She examined it, found the elbows nearly bare and shook her head. “Poor Zach.”
“He’s pretty angry, and doesn’t have a soul in the world on his side. It may be too late, but I had to try.”
“And what about Edwin? What’s his story.”
Ramón scratched his eyebrow before he answered. “Attempted murder.”
“And he’s at the ranch?”
“We don’t call it the Last Chance for nothing, Tanya. He’s a hard case, but a lot of them are. Chris Lansky didn’t attempt—he succeeded.”
“He’s only twelve!”
Ramón nodded. “There were extenuating circumstances, as they say, but all the same…” He shrugged.
Tanya pulled a dark blue jean jacket from the rack. It was the right size. “Edwin scares me,” she said. “I try to be calm and cool, and I’ve handled him, but in my bones, I know he’s dangerous.”
“I noticed that you’re uncomfortable when his name comes up.” He flipped through several boy-size coats and without looking at her, pursed his lips. “Did you agree with David this morning, that I was too hard on Antonio?”
“No, not at all. You did the right thing—violence doesn’t solve anything.” The jean jacket was perfect. Fully lined, without tears or badly worn places and a price tag in her range. “This will be perfect.”
Ramón nodded. “David is a good counselor, but he doesn’t always understand how hard some of these boys are. They’ve been living b
y the laws of the streets, which are life and death laws—‘one false move and you’re out’ kind of laws. They have to be given the same hard laws on this side.”
“Tonio hasn’t lived that way.”
“No.” Ramón looked grim. “But he’s always had a tendency to try violence first. A lot of boys do, but he’s got a brooding side. I want to nip it in the bud.”
“And he has to live by the same rules you’ve set for the other boys.”
“Some, but there is a difference. He isn’t in trouble—he’s a member of my household, and therefore has more freedom.”
They walked to the end of the aisle, and on wide shelves against the wall were dishes. Tanya paused to pick up a hand-painted china saucer, the edges rimmed with gold. The price tag was ten cents. “I used to collect these.”
He took the saucer from her and turned it over. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” She grinned. “Does anyone have a reason to collect strange things?”
“Good point.”
“They’re unique and beautiful—and even when I’ve been very poor, they were in my price range. I can have ten for a dollar, right now.”
“Or—” he bent and took a dinner plate that matched the saucer from a pile in the back “—you can have a matching set.”
“Perfect.”
For a moment, their eyes met, and a spark arced between them, gentle and powerful.
Ramón looked at his watch. “Desmary is going to kill us both if we don’t get back pretty soon. Come on.”
* * *
Tanya looked for Zach when she returned. From the foyer just inside the front door, she heard him in the kitchen, and leaving her purse on the table, headed down the hall. At the door, she paused. Zach sat at the table with Desmary and Tonio. The three of them sliced apples and dropped them in cold water for the cooking tomorrow. Dinner bubbled on the stove.
Tanya didn’t realize how tired she was until she stood in the doorway. There she paused, feasting her eyes privately upon her child. He had a fat lip, the only evidence of his fight with Edwin, and his mood was considerably calmer than it had been earlier. Desmary directed with gestures more often than words. Zach, almost too small for the chair, swung his feet.
“You miss her?” Tonio was saying.
Zach nodded.
“Mad at her, too, though, huh?” There was a reedy quality to Tonio’s voice, the cracked hollowness of adolescence. “What I remember about my mom is being mad.”
Mothers. They were talking about mothers. Tanya shrank back, listening.
“Yeah,” Zach said. “She didn’t have to go and die.”
“You don’t know. Maybe she did.” Tonio dropped a handful of apple slices into a bowl of water and grabbed another whole apple. “You gotta try and keep the good stuff.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Yeah. As much as I could. I don’t even have a picture of my mom—only one of my dad, so I don’t remember what she looked like, but I can think of other stuff—like this perfume she used to wear, and pretty hair, really long and blond.”
Tanya smiled. Her hair had never been particularly long. Children’s perceptions were so different.
“But you know what I remember?” Tonio asked. “This weird song, about a lady who gets married the day before she dies. Sounds gross, but it was real pretty. She used to sing it to me before I went to sleep at night.”
Raw pain sliced through Tanya’s chest, and she backed out of the kitchen, unable to breathe. She ran smack into Ramón. He took one look at her face and said, “Come on, honey, let’s get you to bed.”
It had been too much of a day. Way too much. The fight in the orchard, her fall from the tree, the kiss from Ramón and now this. “I’m so tired.”
She let him walk her to the door of her bedroom, then firmly stepped away. The bag she handed to him. “Give it to Zach, will you?”
“Why don’t you just wait and give it to him tomorrow?”
Tanya nodded.
“Is there anything you need? Can I send someone up with some tea or something?”
“No,” she said and looked over her shoulder. “No, I think I’m just going to go to sleep.”
Ramón smiled. “Good. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
She bid him good-night and shut the door firmly—against him, against the painful memories the day had roused, against confronting the realities her new life offered. She kicked off her shoes, her bra and jeans, and fell into bed.
* * *
Ramón washed up and went down to dinner. Tonio, looking even more sullen than he had the night before, waited at the table with Desmary. To his surprise, Zach was there.
Ramón gave Desmary a questioning look. She lifted a comfortably padded grandmother shoulder. “He’s little,” she said. For one moment, Ramón hesitated. He had to admit Zach tugged his protective instincts the same way the kid pulled on everyone else’s. He was too young to have known so much trouble, and in spite of the problems he found at school and with other children, he possessed a basic sweetness of nature that made it hard to resist him. “All right,” he said, and tension drained from Zach’s body visibly, as if someone had pulled a plug on his big toe.
Touching his shoulder, Ramón said, “Napkin in your lap, guy. Elbows off the table. “Do you have homework tonight?” he asked them both.
“I have math to do,” Zach said. “Not much though.”
“Are you good at math?”
Zach shook his head. “Not very. It’s boring.”
“What do you like?” Carefully, aware of the way Zach watched him, Ramón neatly cut his meat, put the knife down and shifted his fork to his right hand. “Music, maybe?”
“Music is for sissies.” He cast a glance toward Tonio, who steadfastly ignored him. “I like art.”
Ramón nodded. That didn’t surprise him. “I bet you draw birds, don’t you?”
“How’d you know that?”
“I’ve seen a few of them. You’re quite an artist.”
Zach shrugged. Ramón repeated the process of cutting his meat, then looked at Tonio. His plate of food was largely untouched. “Is your mouth bothering you?” Ramón asked.
Tonio gave him a sullen glance and shook his head. “I couldn’t quite hear you,” Ramón said.
Tonio sighed gustily and said, “No.”
“You need to eat something, then. Do you have homework tonight?”
Ramón grinned. “Shall I guess what it is? Do you have math like our little friend here?”
Not even a hint of a smile, Ramón noted with an inward chuckle. Often he could use a little teasing to bring healing to their relationship after a sharp punishment. He tried again. “English? Science?”
“Yeah and no.” The faintest ease of features erased the scowl on Tonio’s brow.
Ramón decided not to push it, but after supper, he called Tonio into his office. It was an old-fashioned room, with a long window facing the mountains. Shelves filled with Ramón’s beloved books lined the walls—a good many of them in Spanish by the new wave of Latin novelists. It was one of the great joys of his life that he could read such beautiful novels in their original language.
Tonio draped himself over an overstuffed chair. He didn’t speak, just sprawled, working a toothpick in his mouth, and waited for Ramón.
Ramón, too, took his time. He shelved several books, then sat down in the comfortable office chair he’d bought for himself two years ago. “We should talk about this, son. It isn’t like you to be out of control.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“One of the things I’ve always liked about you, Tonio, is your strong feelings. But you can’t let those feelings rule you. It’s okay to be mad. Furious, even. It’s okay to be frustrated and hurt and anything else.” He leaned forward earnestly. “Feel anything you want to feel—it’s all okay. You just can’t act on those feelings inappropriately. And you have to eventually get to the moment when you ask yourself,
what do I want?”
Tonio waited.
Ramón hated these scenes. Hated them and often wondered how much benefit they were. But he had them with almost all the kids, all the time. The boys were out of control, and had no disciplinary tactics to help themselves out of the sticky situations into which their mouths or hearts or screaming hormones got them.
He tried again. “What you really want doesn’t have anything to do with Edwin.”
“Oh, yes, it does. You know what I feel like when I see him? I want to break his face.”
“Under the circumstances, that’s a very normal feeling. It just isn’t okay to do anything about it.” Ramón clasped his hands. “The bottom line here is the girl. Teresa, right?”
Tonio nodded.
“Edwin could give you dirty looks from morning till night if he weren’t going with the girl you want.”
Tonio looked stung. “I really like her,” he said with lowered eyes. “And Edwin is mean to girls. He won’t be nice to her for very long.”
“That may be, but if you really like this girl, you have to respect her ability to make her own decisions. Even one you think is bad.”
“But what if he really is mean to her?”
Ramón pursed his lips. Here was a sticky wicket. “Unless he gets verbally abusive in public or actually hurts her physically, there aren’t many options.”
“That su—stinks.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever get a broken heart?” Tonio asked quietly.
Ramón looked out the window, remembering a day long ago, when a slim, pregnant teenager had stolen his heart. “Yes,” he said. “It hurts every time. But eventually, you realize it won’t kill you, even if it feels like it will.”
Tonio sighed. “I hope so.”
“Trust me, Antonio. Like any wound, it’ll get better eventually.”
