by Marin Thomas
They had two hours and fifteen minutes until they reached Albuquerque and Cruz hoped he’d be able to get in and out of the city without any trouble.
Then what?
Then he’d say a final goodbye to the family and figure out his next rodeo. And all he could hope for was that each eight seconds he stayed in the saddle brought him a little closer to figuring out what he wanted to do with his life and how he intended to move on without Sara.
The drive to Albuquerque went smoothly. They stopped once to gas up the vehicles—Sara insisted the prices were cheaper outside the city limits than inside. Cruz hadn’t paid attention to gas prices when he’d lived there because he hadn’t owned a car and neither had his mother.
As they drew closer to the city, traffic picked up and Cruz concentrated on his driving and not letting his attention wander. Easier said than done. The Sandia Mountains along the east side of the city reminded him of another lifetime when he’d believed he’d been invincible. A time when he hadn’t thought about the future, only living in the here and now.
They entered the suburbs south of the city and Cruz thought for sure Sara would turn down one of the major streets leading into the communities, but she didn’t. Her deceased husband had worked at a clinic in the barrio on the south side, but surely they hadn’t lived near that area. An unsettling feeling gripped Cruz’s stomach. He hadn’t counted on driving through his old stomping grounds and risk being recognized by any homies from his past.
Sara drove across the Rio Grande River, which flowed through the middle of the city, and turned onto Central Avenue. Cruz knew every inch of this street and could walk it blindfolded. A quarter mile later she drove down Silver Avenue and parked in front of a small one-story home with an attached carport. He pulled into the driveway with the trailer and José parked on the street behind Sara’s SUV.
The house needed some TLC—the stucco could use a fresh coat of paint and the landscaping looked scruffy. The welcome sign hanging next to the door seemed out of place with bars over the windows. The houses on the block looked the same except painted in different colors. Some had one-car garages, most didn’t. There were tricycles and balls strewn across the yards and empty soda bottles and fast-food wrappers littering the street. At the end of the block three teenagers lounged on a porch and stared in their direction.
He waited outside while Sara unlocked the front door and let Dani and her grandfather into the house. “I can’t believe you haven’t had your car stolen or vandalized parked out here,” he said when Sara returned.
“We bought the car right before Tony was killed. My neighbors were grateful for the work Tony did at the clinic. No one has bothered my house or car since his death.”
No wonder she hadn’t moved. She was probably safer here than anywhere in Albuquerque. “Where do you want all this stuff when I bring it inside?”
“You don’t have to help unload. I’m sure you’re eager to get going to...wherever.” Her smile faltered.
“I’m not leaving until everything’s unpacked.”
“Thank you.” Sara opened the padlock on the trailer and he rolled up the door. “We’ll put everything in the front room for now. I’m moving Dani into my bedroom for the time being, so José’s luggage can go in Dani’s room and whatever else he wants in there. We’ll sort through the rest later.” She grabbed a box and walked it up the porch steps. José found a rock in the yard and used it to hold the door open.
Cruz took the heavier boxes into the house first. After a half hour Dani brought him a bottle of water and he sat on the front porch and took a break. While she chatted about the kids in her neighborhood, he watched a black Lincoln Town Car turn the corner and head in their direction. “Go inside, Dani.” When she didn’t listen, he said, “Now.” Eyes wide, she ran into the house.
The Lincoln slowed and a passenger in the backseat lowered the window. Cruz’s mind flashed back to the afternoon when Emilio had been shot, and his heart stopped beating. Right then Sara stepped onto the porch and the car sped away.
“Cruz? Dani said you’re mad at her.” She sat next to him on the steps.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that...” He swallowed hard.
“What?”
“That car.” He nodded to the black vehicle driving off. “It reminded me of something that happened years ago and I panicked.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s not pretty.”
“That’s okay. I’ve seen a lot of not-so-pretty things in my job.”
He guessed she had. “I lived in a neighborhood not far from here. Not as nice as this block. Me and my brother, Emilio, were sitting on the front porch when a black Escalade came down the street the same time a red Lincoln pulled around the corner in front of our house.” Both vehicles had lowered their windows and before Cruz’s brain had registered what was about to go down, shots rang out and his brother fell backward. “They were rival gang members and they opened fire on each other’s cars. Bullets flew everywhere. I shoved my brother down and covered his body with mine until I heard tires squeal and the cars drive off.” He closed his eyes, but the picture of his brother’s lifeless body remained vivid in his memory. “By the time the paramedics arrived, Emilio had bled out on the front porch.”
“My God, I’m sorry, Cruz. That’s awful.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “There are too many deaths from gang violence in this city.”
Cruz grasped her hand, squeezing it gently. It felt right sitting next to Sara. She made him believe he belonged by her side.
“How old was your brother?” she asked.
“Nine.”
“I can’t imagine losing a child. Losing Tony was difficult enough, but a child—how does a parent survive that kind of pain? Parents are supposed to protect their children from harm.”
Cruz’s mother hadn’t been home the afternoon Emilio had died. She’d been at her usual hangout—an abandoned building a mile away from the neighborhood where a meth lab operated. She’d returned later that day high as a kite. When she saw the blood on the porch, all she’d said to Cruz was “Clean it up.” It wasn’t until the next morning when she’d come down from her high that she’d asked where Emilio was. In that moment Cruz had hated her with all his being. Then she’d glanced at the front door, her face going pale when she remembered the blood on the porch. “Is he dead?” she’d asked.
“The policeman said you’re supposed to go to the morgue and claim his body.”
His mother had grabbed her purse and left the house. Cruz had taken off, staying away from home for a week. He’d spent a couple of nights at Victor’s house and a few at Alonso’s before returning home. He hadn’t asked what happened to Emilio’s body, and his mother never said.
“You had a tough childhood, didn’t you?”
His childhood was no different than that of most kids in the barrio. “My mother died of a heart attack when I was in prison.” Her heart weakened by years of drug abuse.
“Do you have other siblings?”
“My mother had a daughter and another son. Different fathers than mine. I wasn’t close to them. I have no idea where they are or if they even live in Albuquerque.”
Sara squeezed his hand. “I’m glad nothing bad happened to you.”
Prison was bad, but he knew what she meant.
“Maybe you could try to locate your siblings,” she said. “I’d always wished I had a brother or sister. Tony was an only child, too. With my parents living in France, José is all the family Dani and I have.”
Sara lived in a dream world if she believed Cruz could just dial a number, reach his siblings and then enjoy a happy reunion. Chances were his brother and sister wanted nothing to do with him because he had a prison record. And if that didn’t bother them, then they were likely living the type of lives he was trying to avoid.
She nudged his shoulder. “I was thinking since you didn’t rodeo today that you might be able to—”
He stood, interrupting her. He knew what she was going to ask—she wanted him to stay. First, it would be for the night, then the next day and the next and then goodbye would be impossible. “What do you say we go out for a bite to eat after we finish unloading?”
“Just the two of us?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m dying to eat at one of my favorite restaurants.”
“Where’s that?”
“A little Szechuan place a few blocks away. I love their kung pao chicken.”
“I’ve never eaten Szechuan, but I’m willing to try it.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Great. I better head inside and get working so we don’t end up eating at ten o’clock tonight.”
As soon as Sara left the porch, he continued unloading the trailer. He’d stick around long enough to have dinner, then he’d put as many miles as possible between him and Albuquerque.
* * *
“HOW COME I can’t go along?” Dani sat on the bed, playing with Sara’s jewelry.
“Because.” Sara intended to talk Cruz into staying in Albuquerque.
“Is Mr. Cruz gonna come back and see us?”
“I hope so, honey.” If she couldn’t convince him to stick around longer, she wanted him to promise he’d come back and visit. She believed with all her heart that what they’d shared in the short time they’d known each other was special. Never had she believed she’d meet a man who’d just gotten out of prison and then connect with him in the way she’d bonded with Cruz. No matter what anyone said about him, deep down inside he was a good man.
“I bet Daddy would like Mr. Cruz.”
Sara’s fingers froze on the zipper of her sundress. She was surprised Dani had brought up her father. She zipped her dress, then sat on the bed and brushed her daughter’s bangs off her forehead. “Do you think about Daddy often?”
Dani shook her head. “No.” Then her eyes welled with tears.
Sara hugged her. “What is it?”
“All my friends have daddies.”
“Don’t give up hope. One day another daddy might come into your life.”
“I want Mr. Cruz to be my daddy.”
Sara heard a noise outside the room and glanced at the doorway. José stood in the hall staring at them, his face pasty-white. After a second he walked off, but Sara guessed he’d overheard Dani. She hugged her daughter harder. “Life isn’t always fair, honey. We might have to wait a long time for someone special to come along.”
“I hope I don’t have to wait for a daddy forever.”
“Me, too.” Sara released Dani, then stood in front of the mirror and put on her lip gloss. “Be good for Papa tonight. He’s a little sad, too, because he had to leave the cantina.”
“We can watch a movie,” Dani said.
“That’s a great idea.”
Dani slid off the bed and left the room. “Papa?” she called out. “Will you watch a movie...” Her voice faded after she entered the kitchen.
With a last glance in the mirror, Sara went outside to see if Cruz had finished unloading. She assumed he’d want to clean up before eating out. While he showered she’d make supper for José and Dani. Then she’d have her work cut out for her convincing Cruz to stay.
* * *
“I THOUGHT WE’D WALK,” Sara said when she and Cruz descended the porch steps.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Walking at night was risky in the barrio. There weren’t enough cops to patrol all the neighborhoods. When he’d hung out with his homies he hadn’t carried a gun, but he had carried a knife. Tonight he had no protection and no way to defend Sara—except with his fists—if they got jumped. The only thing in his pocket was money, which made him a target no matter how confident Sara was that nothing would happen to them in the two blocks they had to walk to the restaurant.
“This is a decent neighborhood. Mostly families.”
He made sure he walked on the side facing the street, then held Sara’s hand.
“Cruz?”
“What?”
“Don’t get me wrong.” She smiled. “I’m not complaining for the help on the road earlier today...but why did you come back?”
When he didn’t answer right away, her smile faded but the light remained in her eyes—a glimmer of hope that he’d returned to offer her more than a helping hand. He knew she wanted him to say he’d changed his mind about heading down the road. “I was worried that something might happen. I wanted to make sure you arrived in Albuquerque safely.”
And I didn’t want to say goodbye.
They reached the corner and waited for a car to pass before crossing the street. “The China Noodle House is right around that corner.” She pointed down the block.
Cruz had driven through this area from time to time growing up, but hadn’t eaten at any of the ethnic restaurants. His diet had consisted of fast food and convenience-store hot dogs. His mother had rarely cooked a meal. If they were lucky, they might have found a box of cereal in the cupboard and milk in the fridge.
“When do you go back to work?” he asked.
“Monday. Now that I don’t have to worry about day care, I might switch to the swing shift. I don’t like getting off work late at night, but it pays more.”
He didn’t like the idea of Sara driving home from the clinic in the dark by herself. When they rounded the corner, Cruz’s internal alarm went off. He grabbed Sara’s arm and tugged her into the doorway of the restaurant seconds before a gunshot echoed through the air.
Sara gasped and Cruz pressed her farther into the shadows behind him. His eyes roamed up and down the block and into doorways, but he saw no one with a gun. Then he glanced up at the apartments above the businesses. A man leaned out a window waving a gun.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, positioning his body in front of hers. The gunman hadn’t looked their way yet, but if he did they’d be in his direct line of sight. Before he had a chance to warn Sara not to open the restaurant door and draw attention to them, she did just that. The shooter’s gun swung toward them, but instead of feeling a bullet slam into him, Cruz heard, “Rivera? Cruz Rivera? Is that you, homie?”
“You know that man?” Sara whispered.
Cruz had no idea who the guy was, but chances were good that he’d known him twelve years ago when he’d been running the streets.
“Get inside,” he said.
Sara did as he asked and once he knew she was safe, he stepped into the light.
“Well, shit, Rivera! When did you get out of the big house?”
Cruz didn’t care to draw attention to himself, but he refused to shout back and forth with the man. He crossed the street and stood below the open window. “I got out a few weeks ago. I’m just passing through town.”
“Where’re you living?”
Cruz still didn’t recognize the guy, but then after a while they all looked the same—tattoos, baggy clothes and guns. He heard a siren in the distance and figured he’d better get in the restaurant before the cops stopped him and discovered he was violating his parole.
“Don’t kill anyone.” Cruz hustled across the street. Inside the restaurant he found Sara waiting for him. She looked pale and shaken. Tonight’s incident reminded him once again why he could never be with her.
“Who was that man?” she asked.
“A gangbanger.”
“He knew you.”
Cruz nodded. He might as well tell her the truth. She needed to know who he really was. “I was pledging a gang right before I went to prison.”
She swallowed hard. “Which one?”
“The Los Locos.”
Her eyes rounded in shock. “I’ve los
t my appetite.” She went for the door but Cruz blocked her path.
“Wait until things settle down outside.”
“Why? I just want to go home.”
“If the police stop to question me, they’ll learn I’ve violated my parole by coming to Albuquerque.” He didn’t need to explain what that meant. The turmoil in Sara’s eyes told him she understood that if they walked out the door now, he might end up back in prison.
“I guess I could eat something.”
Chapter Twelve
Sara picked at her food, hardly tasting the dish. She didn’t know what to think after learning that Cruz had been associated with the Los Locos gang—the thugs who’d killed her husband. He’d been in prison and hadn’t been a member of the gang at the time Tony had been shot, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the role fate was playing in her life. Why had the powers that be guided Cruz to Papago Springs after her husband’s senseless death?
Why had fate allowed her to get close to Cruz and... No, she refused to say the words in her mind. She couldn’t fall in love with him. Never mind that her feelings for him had slipped past caring and had been racing toward head-over-heels when he’d rescued them on the side of the road today. In the span of seven hours she’d gone from thinking they had a chance to be together, to they didn’t have a chance in hell now that she knew he’d been associated with the Los Locos.
She glanced at Cruz across the table—he wasn’t eating, either. “You should have gone to the rodeo.” She would have been better off never learning about his association with the gang. She would have at least had hope that maybe one day they might find their way back to each other. Now even her hope had been dashed.
“I should have.” The pain in his eyes stole her breath. “But I had to be sure all of you made it here safely.”
“Can I ask why it’s a violation of your parole to be in Albuquerque?”
