by Marin Thomas
“My parole officer believes I’ll be less tempted to become involved in gangs.”
“Did you plan on looking up old friends while you were here?” He winced and she regretted her question.
“No. I’d planned to see that you made it home, then leave.”
He didn’t have to tell her that he intended to hit the road tonight as soon as they returned to the house.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” he said.
“Before...?”
“I moved my things into the trailer.”
She understood his reasoning for keeping his past to himself, but it hurt that he hadn’t mentioned his gang affiliation once he’d learned how Tony had been killed.
The waitress stopped by their table to refill their water glasses. She nodded to the half-eaten meals. “Is there something the matter with your food?”
“No,” Sara said. “I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
The woman nodded and walked off.
She struggled for something else to say, but what was the use? It was over between them—over before their relationship had had a chance to grow.
He tossed his napkin on his plate. “Ready?”
She scooted her chair back and he left two twenties on the table, then escorted her to the door. Outside the street was quiet and there were no patrol cars on the scene.
They walked the two blocks back to her house in silence. When they reached the front porch, Cruz stayed on the sidewalk while she climbed the porch steps. Sara’s throat ached. “Do you want to say goodbye to Dani and José?”
He shook his head. “It’s better if I just leave.”
So then why didn’t he turn around and walk away? Why did he just stand there and stare at her with pleading eyes?
“Sara.” He shoved a hand through his hair, which hadn’t been cut since he’d shown up in Papago Springs. The shaggier style made him look reckless and daring and so darn sexy. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He’d made no promises. He’d done nothing she hadn’t wanted him to do. He’d been kind and patient with Dani and respectful toward José. He’d been perfect.
“For not being good enough for you.”
A sharp pain sliced through her heart.
“I wish I could have been anybody else but me when we met.”
I fell in love with you.
He walked to his truck, then paused after opening the door. “I won’t forget you, Sara.”
And she’d never be able to forget him.
He slid behind the wheel and drove off. She stood on the porch and watched until his taillights turned the corner and disappeared from sight. The door creaked open behind her.
“Where’s Cruz going?” José asked.
“He left.”
“I can see that. When is he coming back?”
She faced her father-in-law. “He’s not.” Are you happy now that he’s no longer a threat to your son’s widow? She brushed past him and entered the house. Dani said something to her when she walked through the living room but she didn’t catch the words. She went straight to her room and locked the door behind her, then sank onto the bed. Only then did she let the tears fall.
A torrent of water leaked from her eyes—two years of emotions bottled up inside her broke free. Since her husband’s death she’d been the strong one in the family, putting on a brave face and reassuring everyone that they’d be okay. Cruz’s leaving had broken the dam and this time she was unable to contain the fear, hurt and sadness that she’d buried inside her for so long.
* * *
CRUZ’S STOMACH GROWLED LOUDLY. He’d driven straight to Interstate 25 after leaving Sara’s—bypassing his old neighborhood. He’d had no desire to see the run-down home he’d grown up in. The turnoff for Interstate 40 came up, and without thinking he took the exit and headed northwest. As he put mile after mile between him and the city, he decided he’d never be able to return—even if they lifted the parole restriction. It would be too painful to live or visit the place knowing Sara was there.
He drove for over an hour before his growling stomach forced him to stop at a gas station convenience store.
“Howdy,” the elderly man behind the counter greeted Cruz. “If you’re looking for a restroom, you’ll have to go farther down the road to the truck stop. Got a plumber coming out tomorrow to see about fixing the toilet.”
Cruz studied the refrigerated drinks, then selected a bottle of water and helped himself to a shriveled-up hot dog from beneath the heat lamp.
“I’ll charge you half price for the dog.”
Cruz handed over a five-dollar bill, then dropped his change into the charity box next to the register.
“Drive careful,” the old man said.
“Thanks.” Cruz ate the hot dog in the truck and stared out the windshield. The last thing he wanted to do was compete in another rodeo. After he finished his meal, he went back into the store. The old guy looked up—this time his smile was hesitant, as if he worried Cruz had returned to rob him.
“You happen to know how I might get to the Juan Alvarez Ranch for Boys from here?”
“Sure do. You got a kid there?”
“A friend works there.”
“Take the next exit, then turn left over the highway. It’s about twenty miles. You’ll see a sign before the entrance. Gates probably locked this late at night. Might have to wait until tomorrow morning to get in.”
“Thanks.” Forty minutes later, Cruz pulled onto the shoulder of the road and parked next to the impressive iron gates. He approved of the bucking bronc logo with the words Juan Alvarez Ranch inside the iron circle. It was midnight—too late for a social call. He turned off the engine and unrolled the windows. It was pitch-black outside with only a few stars in the sky for light. Slouching in his seat, he closed his eyes, then opened them wide when Sara’s pretty face floated through his mind.
He had no idea what he was going to say to Fitzgerald tomorrow. All he knew was that he had nowhere to go except the circuit, and the thought of climbing onto another bronc and riding in front of a silent crowd had about as much appeal as getting a tooth pulled without Novocain.
He just hoped Shorty would forgive him for bailing out early.
* * *
SARA STOPPED AT the nurses’ station in the children’s clinic to look up a patient’s record when Janet, the shift manager, pointed over her shoulder.
“He’s been waiting almost an hour for you.”
Sara’s heart flipped upside down in her chest and she spun. As soon as she recognized that it was her father-in-law and not Cruz sitting in the waiting area, the organ slowed to a dull thud. She hurried to the lounge. “Is something wrong, José? Is it Dani?”
He shook his head. “Dani is fine. I dropped her off at the school this morning.”
Sara had been working overtime the past two weeks. The money was great and by the time she hit the sack she was exhausted and slept like the dead—not even dreaming, which was a good thing since she couldn’t get Cruz out of her head during the day. “Something must be on your mind if you stopped by the hospital.”
“We need to talk.”
“We can talk when I get home.”
He scowled.
“What?” Sometimes her father-in-law exasperated her.
“You’re avoiding me. I want to know why.”
José was being contrary. “How can I avoid you when we live under the same roof?” she asked.
“You’ve been working long hours ever since Cruz left town.”
A coworker stared at them and Sara decided to move her conversation with José elsewhere. “Let’s talk outside.” She led the way to an outdoor patio used by patients and staff. There was plenty of shade near the benches so she chose one, then sat and
waited for him to speak.
“You’ve changed since Rivera left.”
“You’re imagining things.” Was he trying to pick a fight so she’d suggest he move back to Papago Springs? “Are you unhappy living with Dani and me?”
“No!”
Good. Dani loved having her grandfather to come home to after preschool and was already chatting with him about walking together to kindergarten in the fall.
“It’s you that is unhappy,” he said. “You don’t laugh or smile anymore and you get short-tempered with Dani.”
Sara rubbed her brow. She might have convinced herself she was fine, but obviously her father-in-law saw through her. “I’m getting used to being back at work and the overtime leaves me tired.”
“Then don’t work the extra hours. I’m giving you rent money. Why do you need to work more?”
She blinked away the tears that were always ready to fall. She wasn’t aware that she was wringing her hands until José grasped them in his. “Tell me. I can’t help you unless I know what’s bothering you.”
She forced a smile. “I wish it was that simple, but this can’t be fixed.” The hurt in José’s gaze punched her in the stomach. She thought she was protecting him from the truth, but she was making things worse.
“Do you want me to move back to Papago Springs?”
Was he kidding? The look on his face told her he was stubborn enough to pack his bags and leave if she didn’t come clean. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I just miss Cruz.” That was the truth. A better truth than telling him about Cruz’s involvement with the gang that had killed José’s son.
José stared unseeingly at the water fountain across the patio. He didn’t have to say a word—she knew what was going through his mind... How could the wife of his deceased son befriend an ex-con? How could Sara have let Cruz be with his grandchild? Take Dani for ice cream alone in his truck?
This was why Sara could never be with Cruz—she couldn’t betray her father-in-law. It was a no-win situation and she couldn’t pick between the two men.
“Do you love Cruz?” José’s voice broke when he asked the question.
“It doesn’t matter.” If she chose to be with Cruz, Dani would lose a grandfather and her daughter had already lost a father.
“I need to think about this.”
“There’s nothing to think about. Cruz is gone and he’s not coming back.”
José stared into Sara’s eyes and she did her best not to flinch, but she feared he could see into her soul.
“You fell in love with him.”
She glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to work.”
“Sara—”
“I promise I won’t work any more overtime.” She left the patio and stepped into the first elevator that opened. Luckily José hadn’t followed her. She had six hours left to cherish the memories of her time with Cruz. When she got home tonight she intended to put him behind her for good.
Six hours flew by and a little after ten-thirty that evening, Sara walked into her house to find José waiting up for her. Instead of rushing off to her room, she sat down and asked, “How was Dani today?”
“Cranky.”
“Why’s that?”
“She’d rather have you tuck her into bed at night.”
Sara felt a twinge of shame for ignoring her daughter. “I’ll be home by supper time tomorrow.” She motioned to the kitchen doorway. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No. I’m going away this weekend.”
“With who?”
“Myself.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
This was crazy. Had the move to Albuquerque messed with his brain? “I know you must be bored all day waiting for Dani to get out of school. I’ll speak with Mrs. Garcia down the street. She’s active in her church and the local food pantry. Maybe they could use the services of a great cook for one of their fundraisers or the soup kitchen.”
“I don’t want to cook for other people.”
Sara knew that was a lie. Good grief, when he made supper for the three of them there were leftovers for days afterward. He missed cooking and socializing with people who’d stopped in at the cantina. Once he got involved in the community she was sure he’d settle in and enjoy Albuquerque.
“I’ll be gone for a couple of days. No longer than that.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Think I’ll turn in.” He walked off muttering, “There’s leftover enchiladas if you’re hungry.”
Sara helped herself to an enchilada even though she wasn’t hungry. Hopefully when the weekend arrived, José would forget taking a trip to who knew where.
Fat chance. The rest of the week rolled by and Saturday morning, José headed for the front door carrying an overnight bag. “I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Get where?” she asked, alarmed.
“Wherever I end up.”
She followed him outside to his truck where he set the bag in the backseat. “What if something happens to you? How will I know where to send the police looking?”
“I’ve got my cell phone. If I have any trouble, I’ll call.” He got into the truck, started the engine and drove off without a wave or smile or glance in his side mirrors.
Sara stood on the curb for almost ten minutes wondering what to do. Should she wake Dani and go after him? Call the police now, and tell them her father-in-law was suffering a nervous breakdown and should be brought back home?
This was all her fault. If she hadn’t wallowed in her own self-pity after Cruz had taken off, she would have noticed José wasn’t adjusting well to the move. She headed into the house, deciding she’d give him his two-day vacation and then if he didn’t return, she’d send the National Guard after him.
* * *
“THOUGHT I MIGHT find you in here.”
Cruz looked up from the cot he sat on in the bunkhouse. Fitzgerald stood in the doorway, his expression sober. After a moment he stepped farther into the room and helped himself to a seat at the picnic table in the kitchen area.
“I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until I found out he was dead.” Cruz held Shorty’s hat in his hand and stared at the sweaty crown.
“He talked about you constantly.”
“I wish I hadn’t banned him from visiting me in prison.” Shorty had been as close to a grandfather as Cruz had ever had.
“Even if you’d have granted him visitation, I wouldn’t have let him see you,” Fitzgerald said.
The answer stung. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want his last memory of you to be a conversation through a glass window.”
“You knew he was sick?”
“Maria suspected something was wrong long before I did. She encouraged him to see a doctor, but he refused. He told her it was God’s business when it was his time to go and not something he should interfere with.”
“That sounds like Shorty.” Cruz’s smile trembled. “Was he chewing and spitting up to the end?” When Cruz and his friends had first met Shorty, the old man had impressed them by how far he could spit tobacco juice.
“He never gave up his chew, not even at the end when it made him nauseous.” Fitzgerald cleared his throat. “It was a blessing when he suffered the heart attack and didn’t suffer from the cancer anymore.” He waved a hand in the air. “You’ve been here a couple of days now. You want to talk about it?”
Cruz was thirty-one years old, but he felt as if he were eighteen again, having to answer for his actions. He wondered if that feeling would ever go away, or if it would be something that stuck with him the rest of his life. “There’s not much to talk about.”
His mentor chuckled. “Let’s see. You almost landed in juvenile detention w
hen you were seventeen for tagging public property. You lost your brother to gang violence when you were just kids. Your father killed a man in self-defense and is still in prison. Your mother died of a heart attack. You took the fall for your best friend and ended up in prison yourself. You’re one of the best bronc riders in the country, unbeknownst to the current ranked rodeo cowboys. And you’re in love with a woman you don’t believe you’re good enough for. How about you pick one of the above and we can chat about that.”
“How did you know I fell in love with Sara?”
“I might be older than you, but I recognized your feelings for her. It was there in your voice and in the way you looked at her. So why aren’t you with Sara?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m an ex-con. She and her daughter deserve better than a jailbird. If we were together, I’d cause them nothing but misery. The kids at school would tease Dani if they found out I’d been in prison, and the teachers would be terrified of me.” He poked himself in the chest. “I know what it’s like to listen to others mock your mother and father. I don’t wish that on anyone, especially a sweet little girl like Dani.”
“I can see where Sara and Dani might face some prejudice. Have you thought about the three of you living somewhere else?”
“Sara’s got a good job in Albuquerque. I can’t ask her to leave.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s a pediatric nurse. Works at a children’s clinic.”
Fitzgerald’s stare grew thoughtful. “She could find a job working with kids just about anywhere, I’d think.”
He wasn’t bringing up anything Cruz hadn’t thought about already. The only problem was that a fresh start somewhere new didn’t change Cruz’s past or who he’d been or was now. Sooner or later, word would get out that he’d spent time in jail, and then suddenly the friends Dani made at school would disappear and neighbors would quit inviting them over for barbecues and Sara would be ostracized at her job or by the mothers at school.
And Fitzgerald was forgetting one important point. “What am I going to do to support them?” He had pride—not much after his stint in prison—but he refused to allow a woman to pay his way. “I tried to go back on the circuit. That’s what Shorty wanted, but I can’t keep beating a dead horse.”
