Zita pulled Elena close. “You’re not bad. You were assaulted and Xaviera was a result. That doesn’t mean you have to love her.”
“I do love her,” Elena sobbed. “I just don’t want to take care of her. I see Alejandra with Julio and she loves spending every minute with him. I want to be free.”
Carmen squeezed Elena’s hand. “You can choose, niñita. If you give Xaviera up, you need to understand you may never see her again. But if you keep her, you have to be consistent in her care and she must come first. Being a parent means making compromises and not always being able to do what you want to do.”
Elena hiccupped as her tears slowed.
“You don’t need to decide now,” Zita said. “Take your time and think about what you want, and tell us when you’re ready.”
“I don’t want to keep her,” Elena whispered, her eyes wide as she waited for their reaction. She took a deep breath. “But I want the best for her. Can we find her a loving family?”
Zita’s heart cracked at the pleading look on Elena’s face. “If you are sure.”
She nodded with no hesitation. “I’m sure.”
“I’ll make some phone calls,” Carmen said.
Zita hugged the girl, her heart sore for the choice Elena had to make and the baby she was going to lose.
Later that day, Teresa hurried into the room where Zita was feeding Julio. Tears streamed down her face.
“What’s wrong?” Zita asked, suppressing a sigh. Teresa had become increasingly anxious about her mother and sister, now their application had been approved.
“We need to call Mama,” Teresa said. “I am sure something bad has happened.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. It’s a feeling, a dread in my stomach.”
Zita did sigh this time. This was the fifth ‘feeling’ Teresa had had this week. “Teresa, we can’t call your mother. Someone will get suspicious if we’re constantly calling her. You need to trust Fernando is keeping an eye on them. In less than a week, they’ll both be here.”
“You don’t know what it’s like. They could be doing awful things to my sister!”
That was true, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do from here, except pray Manuela’s age would protect her. Zita patted the couch next to her. “Sit down.” Julio had finished his bottle so she placed it on the coffee table and shifted him so she had one hand free. She took hold of Teresa’s hand. “It’s difficult to wait. I know how easy it is to imagine all the nasty things that could happen, but we can’t infiltrate the place where Manuela is being kept, not without great danger to both Manuela and whoever tries to rescue her. The best plan is the one we have — to rescue Manuela when she’s sent home for her birthday.”
“I’m so scared.”
“I know, niñita. It’s not long now, and they’ll be safe.” Zita pulled the girl toward her and hugged her. “You can hold on for a few more days.”
Teresa sniffed and nodded.
“Can you take Julio for me?” Zita asked, hoping that if she gave her something to do, Teresa would stop obsessing.
Teresa held out her hands and Zita passed the baby over.
“I’ll call Fernando tonight for an update,” Zita said.
“Thank you.” Teresa walked out of the room, cooing to Julio.
Zita let out her breath. This day had been an emotional rollercoaster. All the tension that had drained from her during her weekend in Vegas was now back with a vengeance.
Her cell phone rang and relief filled her when she saw David’s name on the screen. “Hi.”
“Are you free for dinner Saturday night?”
She smiled. “Sure.”
“Full disclosure — it’s kind of a family thing.” He paused. “Dad’s announcing his candidacy at a political dinner, and all of the family is expected to be there to support him. I thought you could be my plus one.”
Zita screwed up her nose, glad he couldn’t see her. The last thing she wanted to do was go to an event where it would appear that she supported Bob Randall, but it was nice David was inviting her.
“You’ll sit at the family table for dinner,” David went on, “and then there’ll be speeches. I’m sure we can make an excuse for you to leave.”
Now Zita felt bad. David was supporting his father, and she should be there for him, even if she didn’t agree with his father’s politics. “No, it’s fine. I’ll come. Thank you for inviting me.”
“That’s great!” He sounded so pleased.
“I’ll drive. What time do you want me to pick you up?” If she had her car, she could escape if things got to be too much.
“Six. Do you want to stay overnight?”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.” She hung up and closed her eyes.
She was going to have to have some serious self-control on the night. Perhaps she’d invest in some duct tape for her mouth.
***
Zita stood in front of her wardrobe, her stomach in knots. She had nothing to wear, nothing that was appropriate for a conservative political dinner. She imagined the looks of disdain she’d get if she wore one of her normal, brightly colored, slightly quirky outfits. Not a great way to make a good first impression.
If only she was the same size as Carly, then she could have borrowed something from her. Zita had no idea how formal it was. She shoved a couple of dresses along the rack. Were any of them appropriate?
This was ridiculous. If she didn’t leave in the next half an hour she was going to be late. With a huff of disgust, she grabbed her phone and called David.
“I don’t know what to wear,” she said when he answered. “What’s the dress code?”
“It’s semi-formal.”
She groaned. She rarely had a reason to go semi-formal. “What are you wearing?”
“A black suit.”
She flicked through her clothes again. “What about the yellow dress I wore to Carly’s engagement party?”
“The one that makes you look like an exotic flamenco dancer?”
She smiled at his description. “So that’s a no. I’ll check if Bridget or Daniella have anything I can borrow.” She hung up and called Daniella. A few minutes later, she brought over a little black dress that fit.
Zita kissed her cheek. “Thank you. You’re a life saver.”
“My pleasure.”
Zita quickly did her makeup and then slipped on a pair of low slung black heels. She trotted down the stairs. “Mama, I’m off.”
Carmen glanced up. “You look lovely, if a little more sedate than usual.”
“Best I keep things simple,” Zita said. “It’s a conservative dinner, and I want to make a good impression.”
“There’s no point hiding who you are, Zita. They’ll find out eventually.”
“I’m choosing to break it to them slowly.” She doubted Bob would notice the effort, but she didn’t want to create a scene. She kissed her mother’s cheek and walked out the door.
The nerves returned as Zita parked at David’s apartment. Family was important, and David had a good relationship with his father. If Bob didn’t like her, would it hurt her relationship with David?
She took her overnight bag upstairs.
“You look gorgeous,” David said.
“Thank you.” She kissed him. “We should get going, the traffic is pretty bad.”
“All right.” After he locked his apartment, he took her hand and some of her nerves settled.
Once they were on the way, she asked, “Are there any subjects I shouldn’t mention?”
David glanced at her. “That’s probably a long list.”
Her stomach rolled. She was no good at keeping her opinions to herself, especially if it was something she cared deeply about.
“Don’t worry, Zita. I imagine most of the conversation will be surrounding Dad’s candidacy. Neither of us will probably have to say anything.”
“What about your mother and Lorelei?”
“They’ve always tended to
let the men talk.” He shrugged. “I imagine it’s easier than trying to get a word in.”
Zita couldn’t imagine any of the women in her family being silent. Even the foster girls had their opinions. If she was supposed to be seen, but not heard, she might be in bigger trouble than she’d thought. She sighed. At least she’d have Fay and Lorelei to talk to.
The dinner was being held at a hotel not too far from David’s apartment. When they arrived, only a few people were there. Zita recognized Bob, Fay and Lorelei, and assumed the dark-haired man standing with them was David’s brother Grant. With them were Governor Harding and a woman she guessed was his wife.
The woman frowned when she saw Zita with David. Zita braced herself. She would be polite and non-confrontational.
“David. Zita.” Fay smiled as she turned to them. She air kissed David’s cheeks. “Lovely to see you.” She held out her hand to Zita.
“How are you, Fay?” Zita asked as she shook it.
“Very well. Let me introduce you. This is my very close friend, Hillary Harding. Hillary, this is Zita.”
Hillary gave Zita a cold nod.
Zita smiled at her, not sure why she was getting the cold shoulder.
“And if I can interrupt my husband . . .” Fay put a hand on Bob’s arm. “Darling, meet David’s date, Zita.”
He turned. “Where do I know you from?” he asked.
Zita’s stomach clenched. “We met briefly at the refugee symposium last year.”
He continued to frown as if he was trying to remember.
“Zita, this is Governor Jesse Harding, and my youngest son, Grant.”
She shook the older man’s hand.
Bob clicked his fingers together. “You spilled wine on David.”
“Yes.” If that’s all he remembered, it would be a good thing.
“You think we should let everyone in, don’t you?”
Zita winced. She didn’t want to get into a discussion about this. Not when she was on her best behavior. “Not at all, but I do support helping those whose lives are in danger.”
David opened his mouth to say something, but Bob was faster. “Everyone says they’re fleeing from something. They want to bring their problems over here, infect another country.”
Be polite. “Some of my foster sisters want to be educated so they can go home and fight the issues there. They need a safe place where they can get an education.”
He snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Zita didn’t comment. It was better if the subject was dropped.
“Bob, your guests are arriving,” Fay said, nodding toward the entrance. “Perhaps we can discuss this later.”
Bob glanced over and grunted. Then he straightened his posture, put on a huge grin, and went to meet his guests.
Zita let out a quiet breath. Was this an indication of what it would be like each time she saw Bob? Would all family events be full of this tension? Had it been a mistake to fall in love with David? He hadn’t even stood up for her. He couldn’t possibly still agree with his father, could he?
“Sorry,” David murmured. “I didn’t think he’d be so . . . rude.”
She forced a smile. “It’s fine.”
“Zita, I must thank you for convincing David to step down,” Lorelei said. “I’ve already started work at Dionysus.” She was immaculately dressed in a navy blue evening dress.
Relieved at the change of subject, Zita said, “I didn’t do anything.” She took a glass of white wine from the waiter.
“Of course you did. He never mentioned it before he met you.”
“She opened my eyes,” David said, drawing her closer.
The warmth that spread through her was comforting.
“I wouldn’t mention that to Dad,” Grant said. “He’s still annoyed about the time he’s wasted on David.” He laughed. “I’m going to find a real drink.” He walked off.
Zita frowned. David hadn’t mentioned anything about that.
“Ignore Grant,” Lorelei said. “He’s teasing.”
Zita wasn’t as sure, but she nodded.
At dinner, she kept her opinions to herself and her mouth shut. Luckily, most of the political conversation was between the men on the other side of the round table and she was able to shut it out by listening to Lorelei and Fay chatting. Then it was time for the speeches. Governor Harding stood and walked to the front. There were cameras from several television stations there, and the cameramen got to their feet to film.
The governor made his speech and then said, “I’m pleased to announce I am throwing my full support behind Bob Randall.” He gestured for Bob to come to the front of the stage. Fay went with him, and Jesse explained who Bob was and what his qualifications were. Then he invited Bob to speak.
“It’s a real pleasure to be asked to run for governor,” Bob began. “The great state of Texas has a number of issues that need to be addressed.” He went through some of his policies if he were to be elected. They’d only benefit the rich, but then it was only the wealthy at this dinner. Zita didn’t say a word. She glanced at David, who was frowning.
“But the main issue I want to tackle is immigration.”
Zita braced herself.
“We’ve got all of these people flooding into the country like a plague and it must be stopped.” A couple of people cheered. “They’re leeches on society, lawbreakers from the start, entering the country illegally and expecting us to pay millions of our taxpayers’ dollars to support them and their hordes of children. They don’t give anything back to society.”
Zita’s breath left her at his vitriol.
“Here, here,” someone called.
“Some of the lies they tell are quite shocking.” He held up a file. “My son has been gathering information about these illegal immigrants for me.”
Zita stiffened. No. He wouldn’t have.
David grabbed her hand. “I didn’t give him that.”
Zita barely heard him as Bob opened the file. “One young girl, a Beatriz Morales, told the government her stepfather beat her and she was allowed to stay, as if the Guatemalan government couldn’t help a simple case of child abuse.”
She was numb. David had been spying for his father? He’d said he was trying to change his father’s mind. David squeezed her hand, but she shook him off, not quite comprehending.
“Another girl, Teresa Garcia, said she was forced into prostitution and had her application granted. But what’s worse, her mother and sister, Johanna and Manuela Garcia, have also been approved, citing gang violence. How convenient.”
More shouts of disgust.
The blood drained from Zita’s face. Bob had mentioned the Garcias by name. If the information got back to El Salvador, Manuela and Johanna would be in danger. “Are those cameras live?”
“Zita, I didn’t know he was going to say that,” David said, his eyes pleading.
She pushed back her chair. “I said, are those cameras live?”
“I don’t know.”
She headed to the nearest cameraman. “When is this going out?”
He held up a finger for her to be silent.
She grabbed his arm. “Is this live?”
“No,” he hissed. “But they are.” He pointed to another station.
She swore and turned, crashing into David.
“Get out of my way.” She pushed past him. She couldn’t deal with him now, couldn’t handle his betrayal. She had to call Carmen. They had to bring the rescue forward, just in case.
“Zita, wait. I didn’t —”
She whirled. “I don’t care. Right now I have to make sure your bigoted father didn’t kill Teresa’s family.”
David reared back as if she’d struck him. “What?”
“This is going out live. He mentioned them by name and they’re not safe yet. The gangs have supporters in the US. If someone sees this and tips them off. . .”
David paled. She refused to feel sorry for him. She’d trusted him, brought him into he
r life, exposed the girls to him, and he’d used the information to further his father’s career. She wanted to be sick.
She rushed to the door as Bob called out, “There’s my son, David.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she dialed her mother’s number.
“Mama, you need to call Fernando. He needs to get Manuela and Johanna out tonight.” She quickly explained what happened.
Carmen swore. “I’ll call him now.”
Zita handed her valet parking ticket to the attendant. David hadn’t followed her.
She closed her eyes to stop the tears. He’d been using her to help his father. She’d been foolish to get involved with him, foolish to trust him, foolish to fall in love.
None of it had been real. Anger fired in her belly, burning up her tears. She was tempted to turn around and give David a piece of her mind, but she had to make sure the Garcias were safe.
Her car arrived and she got in and headed home.
Chapter 16
David stared after Zita, her words hitting him like a bullet. He’d endangered Manuela and Johanna.
“There’s my son, David.” Bob’s words sunk into his consciousness and he turned at the applause. No, he hadn’t endangered the family, his father had. He hadn’t even realized Bob had picked up the file. He must have found it on David’s desk at work.
“Without his diligence, I wouldn’t have seen what was happening to our border security.”
Anger flooded David. How could his father do this? How could he be so blind to the truth? How could he use him in this way?
David strode to the front of the room, his eyes not leaving his father. Bob’s eyes narrowed as he got closer and his jovial smile faded.
“I’ve spoken enough for tonight,” Bob said. “I hope I can count on your support.” He waved, moving off the stage, and blocked David at the steps. “Whatever you have to say, save it for when we’re alone,” he said quietly. “I told them what they wanted to hear.”
David’s eyes widened. His father had known exactly what he was doing. This was all political. “You bastard,” he said. “What you said is bullshit, but you don’t care who you hurt. Let me tell you about those girls you so callously maligned. Beatriz is the sweetest girl you’d ever meet. She’s still so trusting despite what she’s been through.” His chest was tight. “And Teresa’s story is one you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. Held against her will, prostituted out and controlled by a gang. Her opportunity to escape came after her arm had been broken while trying to protect herself.”
Blaze a Trail (The Flanagan Sisters, #3) Page 18
