Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  “Maybe she hasn’t decided when she’s going to sell. Or maybe she changed her mind after we talked last week. It’s like me ...” She gave Raúl an apologetic smile. “I didn’t want to talk about my plans for college until I was more sure of myself. Less chance for anyone talking me out of it.” She gave Raúl a sideways glance.

  “I will support you in whatever you want to do,” he said.

  “I believe you.”

  “But?”

  “Sometimes people have to have things firm in their own minds before they’re ready to share. Others talk things out with others as they make up their minds.” She shrugged. “I’m not used to having anyone around to talk with.”

  “It took us—well, me—a while before I was willing to discuss anything with Sarah before I was sure what I was doing. It caused more than one argument, for sure.” Hunter smiled at Sarah. “So be gentle with your mother.”

  Sarah squeezed his hand. “You’re almost as smart as my sister. Okay. I’ll make nice.” Her grin got a wicked gleam. “Although, I may use it as leverage to get her to stop fussing about the wedding.”

  “When is the wedding?” Alicia asked.

  “We’re thinking April—before the tourist rush. It’s also one of the few times Marcos isn’t off in a vineyard somewhere.”

  “What does Marcos do?” Raúl asked. It was time to return to more neutral topics. “I mean, I know he owns a vineyard and makes wine, but why all the traveling?”

  “He owns more than one vineyard—France, Italy, here—and he’s looking at more in Australia, New Zealand, Chile, and South America.” Sarah ticked off the countries on her fingers.

  “Good lord, why does he need so many?”

  “His goal is to make the best wine from the best regions in the world.” Sarah said.

  “Ambitious.”

  “He’s probably going to succeed,” Hunter said. “I’ve never seen a man quite so relentless, and yet one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.” He slid another slice of pizza onto his plate. “What about you, Raúl? What are your ambitions?”

  How did he answer that? Hunter’s gaze was hard, daring him to cheat through dishonesty or disingenuousness.

  He took the challenge.

  “For years, all I could think about was the way my parents had been pulled from this country.”

  “That must have been hard,” Sarah said.

  “Sí. But it fueled me to succeed in school. Even though they were gone, I wanted them to be proud of me. Then I wanted to have enough money to hire a lawyer to get them back.” He took a deep breath. “But now ... now they want to stay in Mexico. They’ve rebuilt their lives and don’t want to change.”

  Hunter’s expression softened a bit. “So what’s in the future? You’re a pediatrician, right?”

  Raúl drank some beer while he composed his answer. He wanted sympathy for his cause, but service people were notoriously conservative. Hunter was already unsure of his motives. Would this undo the thaw that had just occurred?

  “I wanted to be a pediatrician so I could help children, especially those of migrant farmworkers. So much can be prevented if it’s treated early. I also wanted to understand what makes kids tick—why some are more of a challenge than others, like Luis, and why some are almost too placid, letting the world run them over.”

  The warmth in Alicia’s eyes and the gentle touch of her knee against his encouraged him to go on.

  “I want to have a clinic where all are welcome and get the treatment they deserve. I want to help other young Latino doctors get a start, especially if they commit to helping migrant people.” He leaned forward. This was the heart of it. “But there are those who think undocumented people, no matter how innocent, should be treated as less than human. They put together laws to prevent people from helping children—even people who want to help them, like me.”

  His hands trembled when he was done.

  Silence.

  Had he said too much?

  “I’ve been thinking about this a lot since you first told me.” Alicia looked at her hands, not at him. “I’m not sure it’s all that black and white.”

  “Why not?” He needed her support, not the antithesis.

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m not saying your point of view is wrong. But I think we need to look at both sides. Many people, including some Latinos, think that the way to fix the immigration problem in this country is to fix the law.”

  “Then they should fix the law. And stop deporting hard-working people. And help children grow into healthy, smart citizens.” He removed his hand from hers.

  “Fixing the law would be ideal,” Hunter said. “I’m not comfortable with us continuing to turn a blind eye to the problem.”

  “Of course,” Sarah said. “Part of the problem is people who hire illegals in the first place.”

  “All I mean”—Alicia looked at the space between their hands—“is that your picnic would be a great time to have a conversation. Why not include Joe Wilson and the people who think like him?”

  “It would only turn into a shouting match,” Raúl said, his shoulders stiffening with discomfort. Coming here had been a bad idea.

  “Depends on who shouts first,” Hunter said.

  He was tempted to stand up and leave, but that had been his response the last time he visited the inn. If he was going to take a position, there would be people who disagreed with him. He just wished they weren’t Alicia’s family. He should drop the matter.

  “What do you think the solution is?” Hunter asked.

  He kept his gaze on the ex-marine as he spoke. “I’ve joined a group to work for immigration reform. We want to defeat this bill in Watsonville.” Briefly, he explained the gist of the legislation. “We’re having a potluck in a few weeks to explain the bill and what the impact would be.” He gestured to the outside. “I have flyers in the car. I’m hoping you’ll help distribute them.”

  “Can I see one?” Alicia asked.

  He nodded. He’d put one in his pocket, just in case someone asked.

  “How can they tell you what to do in private practice?” Hunter asked.

  “Many of our patients are on Medicaid or have a subsidy through the government insurance program. We have to follow certain regulations to accept those patients. There are also small subsidies we get for vaccinations—public health, that kind of thing. By tying the law to government aid, they box us in.”

  There was no change in Hunter’s expression as he studied the flier.

  “I’ll put some up at the college,” Alicia said. “It’s good for people to know there’s another side to the story.”

  “I’m going to have to pass,” Hunter said. “But I wish you luck.” Then, as if to cover the awkward silence, he stood. “Another beer, Raúl?”

  “Sure.”

  Frustration tore at him. He’d believed Alicia would agree with him because of her background. Why couldn’t she understand that laws like Joe Wilson’s had almost ruined his life?

  Chapter 18

  “Hello, Alicia.” Eduardo’s voice caught up to her as she walked between classes.

  Ice crackled through her vertebrae, but she kept walking, pretending she hadn’t heard.

  He grabbed her arm, his long fingers curled around her bare flesh. “Graciela told me you were here.”

  She faced him. “Let me go.”

  “You have something of mine.” His grip tightened.

  She looked around, but the area was devoid of people. “What? I returned everything of yours. Let me go.”

  “You have my child. I want him back.”

  “Luis? You’re not serious.” She tried yanking her arm, but his fingers dug into her skin. She’d have bruises for sure—not the first she’d gotten from Eduardo. “I thought you said he wasn’t yours.”

  “Graciela says he looks like me.”

  There was a faint resemblance, but she prayed her son never developed the hardness of his father’s eyes.

  “You can’t ha
ve him. He needs care—more than you can give.”

  “Caramba! He needs a father, not a girl to coddle him. I’ll take him and make him a man.”

  A peacock couldn’t have thrust out his chest with any more authority.

  The grip loosened, and she pulled back.

  “Leave me alone, Eduardo. You’ll never get him—never!” She trotted toward the sociology building, not her original destination, but a building awash with light and a friendly presence.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, bitch!” His footsteps were close behind, and she moved into a run, happy she’d worn flats instead of her customary heels.

  She reached the safety of the building. Lights, blessed lights.

  The door slam let her know Eduardo hadn’t given up.

  She hurried toward the classroom, praying the professor hadn’t left.

  “What’s the matter, Alicia?” Dr. Susan was shutting the door behind her.

  Alicia looked behind her. Eduardo stood at the end of the hall, arms folded, menacing glare in place.

  Dr. Susan pushed the door back open and gestured her inside. “Are you a student?” she called down the hall to Eduardo.

  Her ex didn’t answer.

  “I suggest you leave.” Her voice was firm.

  “Or what?” The threat was clear.

  “I’ll call security.”

  Eduardo’s laugh mocked the statement. “I can handle a rent-a-cop.”

  Enough was enough. If she wanted to be seen as an adult, she was going to have to fight her own battles.

  Alicia came back out of the classroom. “Go away, Eduardo. Go back to Los Banos. And take Graciela with you.”

  He took a step toward her. “I told you, I’m not leaving without my son.”

  Every muscle in her body told her to take refuge again, but she forced her feet forward a few steps. “And I told you, Luis is staying right here.”

  “You’ll need a court order to get access to your son—if anyone would give it to you. Until then, you’ll stay away from Alicia, her son, and this school.” Dr. Susan stood firm next to her, her cell phone in her hand.

  Eduardo’s glance darted between them, as if evaluating the danger versus opportunity. Finally, he shrugged. “Luis isn’t here. I’ll leave.”

  He came forward until she could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes.

  She stood her ground.

  “I know where you live, bitch, and I will get my son. And if you or your doctor get in my way ... ” Another shrug. “Accidents happen.”

  At the sound of the outside door banging shut she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “An interesting addition to your family sociology,” Dr. Susan said.

  “What? Oh.” Her breath came even more freely. “I suppose so.”

  “The question remains, what are you going to do about him?” The professor pulled the door closed once again, and Alicia fell in step with her as they moved toward her office.

  “I’m not sure what I can do. I don’t think he’ll go to court, and even if he does, he’s got a juvenile record.”

  “Which is probably sealed. What are you going to do about the threat?”

  Alicia rubbed her cheek. “I guess I’m going to have to be careful.”

  “Yes. Don’t walk alone—especially at night. In fact, if you wait while I get a few things from my office, I’ll walk with you to wherever you were going.”

  The financial class, unappealing on a good day, wasn’t where she wanted to be.

  “Home. I think I’ll go home.”

  “Good idea.” Dr. Susan unlocked her office. “You know, you can look up anything on the Internet. Maybe you can find out if your ex is wanted anywhere. If he’s had a juvenile record like you said, maybe there’s something more current.”

  “That’s an idea.” Something she could use to strike back.

  She found herself peering at shadows as they walked toward the parking garage.

  “You should also get yourself some mace.” Dr. Susan held up a small canister. “It can come in handy.”

  “I’d be afraid I’d mace myself.” Her laugh was nervous.

  “Practice. Besides, you’ve got a lot of backbone. You’ll do what you have to.”

  The compliment gave her the strength to stand a little straighter.

  “It’s a good thing you came back,” Dr. Susan said. “The committee has approved your idea of an Asperger’s support group. In fact, Betsy Hawkins was very supportive. You and your doctor friend really made an impact on her staff.”

  Another millimeter taller. “So what do I do next?”

  “You’ll need to contact the scheduling office and plan a few months out. With the next semester coming up soon, you might delay to the end of September, let everyone get settled. Speaking of which, have you chosen your classes yet?”

  “No. I’ve been a little busy with my grandmother and all.”

  “Right. How’s she doing?”

  “Getting better. My mother’s here for another week, and then she goes home.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like another interesting family dynamic.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, you’ve only got a week more to register. Even if you can’t take a full load—I know you’re waiting to hear about some of the grants and scholarships—it will be good to get as many classes as you can. You don’t want to be graduating when you’re thirty.”

  Thirty seemed so far away. So much would change in that time—Luis would be twelve, she’d have a career. Maybe she’d even fall in love.

  The thought saddened her. She and Raúl had made peace after the conversation at the inn, but there was still an undercurrent of mistrust between them. Maybe there wasn’t a future for them after all.

  • • •

  “You look tired, cariño.” Raúl hugged her after she walked through the door, and she tried not to wince.

  Unsuccessfully.

  “What’s wrong? Are you injured? Do you need to go to the hospital?” He put his hand on her arm, and she flinched. He examined her arm. “Anywhere else?”

  She shook her head.

  Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. “What happened? Do we need to see the police?”

  What was the right way to tell him? How could she keep him from doing something stupid? As smart as Raúl was, she doubted he was a match for Eduardo.

  Raúl’s tension charged around her.

  “You know who Eduardo is?” she asked.

  “Your ex. Graciela’s current. Did he do this?”

  “He wants Luis.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  She winced again. “Please don’t say that. Eduardo isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants. Or decides he doesn’t want it anymore.”

  “Do you think Graciela had anything to do with this? You said they knew each other in Los Banos.”

  “Graciela told him I was there. I ran into her a while back. She must be encouraging him. But why? She hates Luis.”

  “To get at you?” Raúl put his arm around her and pulled her close, without brushing her arm. He kissed the top of her head.

  His warmth soothed her and eased the ugliness of the evening.

  Why would Graciela want to hurt her so badly? She had won Eduardo, for whatever that was worth. That woman had a powerful hatred bottled up inside her—an anger that must make sense only to Graciela.

  The arm around Alicia gave her a brief hug. “I’m going to get rid of her.”

  “You can’t do that without a reason. She’ll take you to court.”

  “I’ll talk to Hadiya and make it happen. I’m sure there’s something Graciela’s done wrong recently.”

  Alicia’s laugh was mirthless.

  “Cariño, Graciela is rotten, but Eduardo is dangerous. How can I protect you and Luis?”

  The fear she’d been holding at bay slipped an icy finger into her gut. What would Eduardo do to get at her and Luis? Was there any way she could
stay safe?

  “What if you stay with your mother?” he asked.

  “In Los Banos? That would be walking right into the flame. Besides, I don’t want to spend that much time with her.”

  “Family is important, cariño. We may not approve of what they do, but they are ours by blood. Your mother seems like a good person. What has she done that wronged you so badly?”

  “We’ve been over this before. She had an affair with a married man.”

  He was silent.

  “It was wrong!” Why couldn’t he see that? She stood, went to the living room window, and stared at the eucalyptus trees lining the small creek. Too much was going on in her life. She didn’t have time to deal with her feelings about her mother.

  “So was the deportation of my family, but I’m trying to work through that.”

  “Have you forgiven the feds?” She turned on him. “’Cause that’s what you’re asking me to do.”

  “Your mother didn’t do anything to you. Her injury was to Elizabeth, not you.”

  She clutched her anger and shame like a starving man clutching day-old bread. “I don’t care.”

  He came closer to her, his eyes troubled, no doubt with the same question she was asking herself. How could two people be together if they couldn’t understand the things that drove them?

  “I told you I’ve been going to these support meetings for families of deportees.”

  “Sí.”

  “There are a lot of angry and hurt people in the room. We are learning ways to deal with the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Part of it is understanding how to direct the energy of the anger, how to own our part in things that happen.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t have anything to do with your parents being deported.”

  “No, cariño, but I have done things since I haven’t been proud of. When I was younger, I got into physical fights with kids I knew I could beat. I undermined fellow students if I thought I could get ahead.” The pain in his dark eyes was piercing. “I know you don’t agree with my stance on immigration, but it’s the most constructive way I have to deal with my past.”

  “I just think there are two sides to any story, and you need to listen to Joe Wilson’s.”

  Her words seemed to hang in the air as she realized the parallel to her own life. Some of the tension left her body. She couldn’t ask him to do anything she wasn’t willing to do herself.