Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  “My parents? Brothers?”

  “Your parents are well, as are the younger boys.” Tío Alejandro’s voice was hesitant. “Juan seems to be in the States.”

  “I believe he is well.”

  The men let the silence rumble across the wire. There was nothing more to discuss on a phone possibly monitored by the NSA.

  “There’s a situation here.” Raúl told Alejandro about Wilson’s efforts to limit undocumented workers’ access to health care. A long-term activist, his uncle might have advice. “He says he knows how to get past the problems that forced the strike-down of Proposition 187.”

  “He’s probably working with Kobach,” Alejandro said.

  “Who’s he?”

  “He’s an attorney from Kansas. Very smart. He knows all the nuances of these types of laws and how to get them passed without running into constitutional law.”

  “A difficult man to beat.”

  “But not impossible. We cannot give up the fight, sobrino.”

  “So how do we win the votes?”

  His uncle was silent.

  He gazed over the fields of row crops, strawberries, raspberries, and odd-looking artichoke plants and remembered how hard his family had worked to gather the food that fed the country. They took jobs no one else wanted.

  “You can give facts, but truth does not always work. Why do people want these laws? That is what you must discover. Find the emotion behind the effort. Why this man—Joe Wilson? Why now? We can never truly understand a man until we walk in his shoes.”

  “How do I find out?”

  “You will need to talk to him. Invite him for a beer. It is a small area. You will probably run into him.”

  “I just did.”

  “Good.”

  Not so good. Instead of seeking to understand, Raúl had let fear rule him.

  “I think I blew it.” He explained what he’d done in the market.

  “Then you must eat the humble pie.”

  Chapter 16

  “Go. Go,” Abuela said. “I’ll be okay. Your mother can take care of Luis while you go to school. You don’t have to date that doctor. He’s too old for you.”

  “Abuela, he’s been a big help.”

  “Of course. You should have learned your lesson. But you’re just like your mother.”

  “I heard that,” her mother called from the kitchen. She walked into the living room, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. “But she’s right about one thing. I can take care of Luis.”

  Alicia didn’t want her mother getting close to Luis. She didn’t want her mother anywhere near her life.

  “You haven’t spent enough time with him. It’s only for a few hours. He’s used to Raúl.”

  “He doesn’t need to go anywhere,” her mother said. “I can take him, can’t I, baby boy?” She picked up Luis.

  Her son registered his displeasure by stiffening like a board and shrieking.

  “Give him back to me. He’s going to Raúl’s.” Alicia smirked at her mother.

  “Stubborn,” Abuela pointed her finger at Alicia. “Like you.”

  Alicia rolled her eyes, grabbed her son, and took off.

  Maybe Raúl had a spare bedroom.

  Ten minutes later, she pulled into his driveway. While Luis had settled down for the drive, she could tell he was still disturbed by all the chaos at her home. Her mother had arrived Sunday, in time for Abuela to return home after being in the hospital for almost a week. They were both urging Alicia to go back to work, telling her they could handle Luis.

  Right.

  Abuela was still too weak to do much besides sit and watch television, and her mother had no clue what she was getting into.

  “I’m running late,” she told Raúl when he answered the door. “My mother wanted to play tug-of-war with him. She thinks she can handle anything I can.”

  “You’re going to have to give her a chance.”

  “Says the man who insists on doing everything himself,” Juan said.

  She’d grown easier around Raúl’s brother, but he still seemed skittish, like one of the feral cats near the beach. “I don’t have time to discuss my mother. The sooner she goes back to the Valley, the happier I’ll be. I need to stay after class to see if the professor has any new information about care at the college.”

  “No problem.”

  She gave Luis a quick kiss, happy to see his eyes going back and forth between the two men. Curiosity kept him calm.

  Raúl followed her to the car. “I’ve missed you, cariño. Stay for a while when you come back. Luis will be asleep. We can talk.”

  “Your brother will be here.”

  “We can sit in the back. Listen to the night sounds. Have an iced tea ...”

  Chatter from a nearby mockingbird encouraged her. The past week had been chaos. Her mother’s presence brought constant tension, compounding her worry about her grandmother.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Raúl shifted Luis to his hip and kissed her.

  Hungry, she responded, needing the warmth his lips promised. With a groan, she broke it off. “I need to go.”

  “Another reason to visit later.”

  “Sí.” She got behind the wheel.

  Traffic going north on Highway 1 was mercifully light, unlike the southbound lanes. Once she reached Aptos, cars jammed both sides. She groaned and pulled off at an exit early.

  She found a spot in the college’s parking garage, eliminating the hike up the stairs. Maybe her luck was changing.

  Josh had changed his seat to another part of the room and was texting on his phone while the professor collected their papers. Based on the glances from a pretty redhead next to him, she was the recipient of his messages.

  Just as well.

  “How is your grandmother, Miss Fuentes?” Dr. Susan asked when she turned in her paper.

  “Home. She seems to be on the mend. My mother is here to help.”

  “Changes the family dynamic, doesn’t it?”

  “For sure.”

  “Talk to me after class. I may have some news.”

  Even if she was late for her business class, she wanted to hear what the professor had to say.

  “I talked to the childcare center,” Dr. Susan told her after class had ended. “They’ve had a few autistic children, and it’s been difficult for them to handle.”

  “Luis isn’t autistic.”

  “I understand that.” The professor sat on the edge of her desk, dangling a booted leg over the side. “But the point is they are open to working with Luis. Because many of their staff are college students working toward an education degree, they want to provide the best care they can for everyone.”

  Hope peeked out its head.

  “They’ll take Luis?”

  “With some conditions. They want you and your doctor friend to come in and explain what it’s like to work with an Asperger’s child. How Luis is different and methods of working with him so he can reach his potential.”

  Most people Alicia had hired to watch Luis were young mothers like herself or older women like her grandmother. Most didn’t care how the child developed; they had enough work keeping him fed, entertained, and safe.

  “Sounds good.”

  “I thought you’d be happy.” Dr. Susan scribbled on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. “Contact Betsy Hawkins. How is your research going for support groups?”

  Thank God she’d asked Dr. Susan for help with her support group for mothers of autistic-spectrum children. The woman had given her tons of ideas and resources.

  “I’ve been to two. The twelve-step groups reminded me to look at my actions, not only Luis’s, but I don’t think it’s the right model for what I want.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t want ...” She pursed her lips, trying to put her unease into words. “Some of it is good, like not trying to make your kid into what he isn’t, but I want us to do more. Help each other with practical things.” She twisted
a stray lock of her hair. “Maybe fight for more places to do what”—she looked at the slip—“Betsy Hawkins is doing.”

  Dr. Susan nodded. “A support group and an advocacy group. It may be a hard mix to sustain. I know your life’s been busy lately, to say the least, but why don’t you write down what you’re thinking? We can review it, and I’ll work with the powers that be to find you a meeting space.”

  Alicia’s idea to solve a problem was taking on a life of its own—one that she would be able to control as well as she could her son. In other words—not at all.

  She stuffed the note into her purse and walked back to the parking lot. Her life was becoming more complicated. Twelve-step programs wanted her to focus on herself, and that made sense. But what about the things she couldn’t control?

  Both Raúl and her coach were pushing her to work things out with her mother. But her mother couldn’t change the past any more than Alicia could.

  Could she find the strength to forgive her mother? And, if she did, how would that change their relationship? Would it do what everyone promised—help her stand more firmly on her own two feet? If she were more independent, would that affect how she felt about Raúl? Or would they grow closer because she’d feel more like an equal?

  • • •

  The backyard was as peaceful as Raúl had promised. She sipped the iced tea, grateful for its cool tartness. He held her hand but otherwise was quiet.

  The sound of a nearby stream’s trickle soothed the tension from her shoulders, while the calls of birds tweeting their good-night songs gave her hope for the future. Would Raúl support her?

  “I may have a solution for Luis.”

  “Wonderful! Did the school come through, or did you find a parent to swap care with you?”

  “Well ... it’s a little complicated.” She told him about the request from the childcare center.

  “Of course. Let me know the details, and I’ll get it on my calendar.”

  “Yeah.”

  A bullfrog announced his tidings as they once again sat quietly. Raúl rubbed his thumb over her hand. “The simple things are the best sometimes,” he said.

  “Mmm.” Deep contentment washed over her. “Did your parents sit at night like this?”

  “Hardly. There were so many living together in the workers’ quarters. The families intermingled, particularly in the summertime. Men would be in charge of the meat on the grill. Women cooked the rice, beans, and tortillas. After dinner, the women handled the cleaning with whatever daughters they could corral. Men drank beer and harder stuff in the shade of a huge oak. It was pretty traditional.”

  “Is that what you want in your life?”

  “No, cariño.” He turned to her. “I want nights like this. The occasional family gathering is one thing, but night after night?” He shook his head. “In the kitchen, women got to a certain point where someone started screaming or crying. Too often, the men got drunk and either fought each other or beat someone who was defenseless.” He ran his thumb down the side of her cheek. “It’s not how I’ve chosen to live my life. I want to take care of people, not tear them down.”

  Her heart swelled with longing. She leaned toward him, taking the initiative for the first time. What began as a simple kiss increased in passion as soon as she touched her lips to his. Her jaw slackened, allowing him access to her mouth if he wanted it.

  He took it, their tongues dancing and exploring, physically questioning if their attraction could stand the heat.

  She moved closer, inhaling his clean but masculine scent. A hint of cloves teased her nose as the kiss deepened. A spicy aftershave.

  Evening noises faded to the background as her senses focused on the experience. Touching. Tasting. His end-of-day beard rough against her skin.

  He reached behind her head and unclipped the barrette that held her hair off her neck in the hot summer months. His hand wrapped into the strands, and he pulled her closer.

  Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gloried in the heat of his muscles under his shirt. Desire escalated.

  He broke off from her lips and trailed his kisses down her neck, paying particular attention to the hollows.

  Moaning, she buried her face in his chest, ashamed for him to glimpse the lust she knew was in her eyes, aware of the feel of his hand on her bare arm, the touch light enough to make the hairs on her arm tingle. He lingered on her hand for a few moments before repeating the action. The second time his finger grazed the outside of her breast.

  She gasped, desire warring with fear.

  He released her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I pushed too fast.”

  “I started it.”

  “True.” His smile changed the color of his eyes, warming them to a chocolate brown. “I wasn’t unhappy about that.”

  “Me either.”

  “But enough for now.”

  “Sí.”

  They returned to their contemplation of the sounds of the night, their hands intertwined. She was closer now, the energy between them sizzling like a cracked egg sliding into the skillet.

  He reached over to touch the hummingbird tattooed on her arm. “Why did you have this done?”

  “At first I wanted to fit in—all the girls were getting tats. But then, I saw how strong the hummingbird is, even though it’s really tiny. I thought it would be a good way to remind myself of how I needed to be—strong, agile, and not afraid of anything hundreds of times my size.”

  “That certainly describes you.” He chuckled.

  “How long will Juan be here?”

  “I’m not sure. I suspect he’ll be here as long as the feds don’t come around again.”

  “Do you think they know he’s here?”

  “They came to see me once. Haven’t been back since. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “What happens if he has to go back to Mexico?”

  “He’ll die.”

  • • •

  Alicia paced the small living room as she waited for Raúl to pick her up to go to the childcare center.

  “He must come in,” Abuela said. “Your mother and I must meet this man. See if he is good enough for you.”

  “He’s a doctor.”

  “I want to meet him,” her mother said. “Even if he is a doctor, he’s older than you are. You know how older guys are.”

  “Eduardo was seventeen,” Alicia said as she spotted Raúl’s Jetta pulling into the driveway. She opened the screen door, resigned to performing introductions. “I don’t think age matters.” She let the door slam behind her as she walked outside. “They want to meet you.”

  Raúl grabbed some flowers from the passenger seat and got out. “I figured they would. I brought these as a peace offering. Think it will work?”

  “They’ll be happy.”

  He kissed her. “That’s just for you.”

  “Mmm.” She put her arms around him and pressed her lips onto his.

  “Buenos días, Alicia.” The next-door neighbor, a woman in a pink paisley housedress with a white miniature poodle in her arms, stared at Raúl pointedly. “Who is this?”

  “Ah … neighborhoods,” he whispered in her ear.

  “This is Dr. Mendez. He’s helping me with Luis.”

  “Looks like he’s helping you with some other things, too.” She pulled the mail from her box and went inside her house.

  They grinned at each other. No one else mattered.

  “We’d better get this over with or we’ll be late for the meeting,” he said.

  This time Alicia closed the front door quietly. No use antagonizing them any further.

  “Mom, Abuela, this is Luis’s doctor, Raúl Mendez.”

  “And your boyfriend,” Abuela added as she scanned him—probably looking for visible defects.

  “Not really, we’re just friends.” She didn’t need her grandmother deciding something was there that wasn’t.

  “A man who’s ‘just friends’ doesn’t kiss a woman like he did
.”

  Could it get any more awkward?

  “I’ve brought these for you.” Raúl held out the flowers to Abuela.

  “Gracias. Serena will put them in water.” Abuela gestured to her mother.

  Her mother smiled and took the flowers.. “I’m Serena. Nice to meet you Raúl.”

  “And you, too.” His professional mask had slipped into place.

  “What are your intentions with my granddaughter?” Abuela struggled to stand. ”I don’t want her used like that other boy did.”

  “Mamá, sit down.” Serena gave her mother a firm but gentle push on her shoulders.

  Abuela sat but didn’t stop glaring at Raúl.

  “As far as I’m concerned, Alicia is my girlfriend, although I don’t seem to have convinced her of that, yet.” He put his arm around Alicia. “I care very much for her and would never do anything to hurt her.” She felt the tension in his body as he pulled her close. “I’m a grown man, not a schoolboy, much less a gangbanger. Alicia has enough to handle right now. She needs help, not more pain. Does that answer your question?”

  “Sí.” Abuela gave a single nod.

  His girlfriend. Her heart beat a little faster.

  But what did that mean? In his family, men had privileges over women. He’d said that wasn’t how he saw the world, but would habit win out? If they were together, would he take away her independence?

  She pushed the thoughts aside. Right now, she had to get to that meeting and convince Betsy Hawkins the center could handle kids like Luis. Fortunately, traffic was lighter than normal, and they were able to make the twelve-mile drive in twenty minutes instead of the forty-five it could take on a bad traffic day.

  Betsy Hawkins was a lithe woman with short, gray hair who had the grace and serenity of someone with a strong meditation and yoga practice. Alicia liked her immediately.

  “Thank you for coming to see us today,” the woman said as she led them into a sunny room lined with brightly colored toys. Eight young women and two men occupied the folding chairs that had been set up on the burgundy area rug centered in the room.

  “We want to be able to take as many different types of children as we can,” Betsy went on. “Sometimes grants allow a special caretaker for a special-needs child, but often parents are barely hanging on. We had a child on the autistic scale here a few years ago, and I have to tell you it was a real struggle.”