California Sunrise (19 page)

No matter what happened, he was glad Juan had shown up, giving him a chance to know some part of his family as an adult.

“Come in!” Alicia shouted from somewhere inside the house when he rang the doorbell. “Kitchen.”

A squeal from Luis guided him to a room toward the back.

He stopped at the entrance to take in the sight of her. Her dark hair was held by a silver clip he longed to remove, just to see the hair tumbling down her back, ready for his fingers.

Luis was in his highchair, eyes wide as he stared at him.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Alicia removed the box from his hands and placed it on the table. “I thought I’d go mad with his shrieking. I don’t know why he stops when you’re around, but I’m happy he does.” She took a breath as if to continue talking.

He stepped to her.

Her lips were as sweet as he remembered. He wanted more, but a pounding from the direction of the highchair reminded him they weren’t alone.

“How about some pizza, little man?” he asked as he crouched in front of Luis.

The boy was glaring at him like he had a fistful of anger in his gut.

“I always wonder what he’s thinking when he looks like that,” Alicia said.

“Probably wondering why the world doesn’t make sense.” He pulled out a slice of pizza and cut it into little chunks. “We neuro-typicals pick up a lot of information by facial clues and don’t even realize it. Most on the autism scale know they’re missing something but don’t know what it is.” He shrugged. “They get frustrated and don’t know how to express that either.”

“Poor kid.” She kissed Luis’s forehead, but it didn’t erase the scowl on his little face.

“Try this.” Raúl put a cooled piece of pizza on the highchair tray.

Luis eyed it suspiciously for a few minutes and then picked it up and shoved it in his mouth. As soon as he swallowed, he pounded on the tray.

“I think we have a hit.” Raúl laughed, comfortable in the long-ago familiar trappings of family. Could this be possible again in his life?

“Thank you for taking care of Luis last night,” Alicia said after they were seated. “It was a relief to go to school and only think about sociology and business. I even halfway enjoyed the financial stuff—kept my mind off heavier thoughts.”

She put a few more pieces on Luis’s tray, then took a bite of her own pizza.

Raúl was mesmerized by the sight of her lips as she chewed. She must have felt him staring, because she looked up at him. A faint color on her cheeks told him she was blushing.

Desire made him shift in his seat.

“Is that all you want from me?” she asked, startling him from his fantasy.

“No,
cariño
.” He took her hand. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t part of it, but it’s not everything.” He searched for words to explain what he meant. “I’m willing to work to become the best man I can be for you. Remember, I told you I’ve joined a support group—people who understand what I went through and can help me deal with my mood swings.”

He’d laid the most vulnerable piece of himself on the table between them. What would she do?

“Thank you.” She squeezed the hand he was still holding.

“You’ve brought something into my life. Something I thought was gone forever when they deported my family.”

“What’s that?”

Again, he groped for words. “A sense of ... I don’t know ... I guess ... belonging.” That was the word. “With you, I’m not alone anymore. I can see into the future, and it isn’t black.”

“I know what you mean. There’s a sense of peace when I’m with you. Even with
Abuela
, Luis, and everything else.” She bit her lower lip. “But it worries me, too. I’m young. What if I change? What if what we have right now isn’t enough to keep us together?”

The tightness in his chest loosened a little. She was considering a future with him! He wanted to jump up and do a funky dance to celebrate.

Then the rest of her words caught up with him.

“My parents are still together, through everything, and they married when they were in their teens,” he said. “Yes, people change. They changed, but they loved each other enough to adapt.”

“I don’t know if I love you.” She glanced away from him but didn’t pull her hand back.

“Don’t know or don’t want to admit?”

She looked back at him but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, I’m probably rushing things some.” Juan had given him a taste of family, and Raúl didn’t want to let that go when his brother left to go back to wherever it was he was going.

“Raúl, I’ve got a lot going on right now. I still don’t have a handle on what’s up with Luis, my grandmother just had a heart attack, and I don’t know what I’m doing with the rest of my life. I want to believe in love—and the possibility of love with you ...” Her smile deepened, shining through to her eyes.

“Let me help you.”

Her expression drooped. “I’m not sure you can help me with all of those things. You’re already doing a lot for Luis. The rest of it I have to figure out for myself, don’t you think?”

“I can be a good listener.”

“For a guy, you’re not bad.” She chuckled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She grinned. “It’s not like I haven’t been around men. I see how Hunter and Marcos are with Sarah and Elizabeth.”

“And? Why do you think men don’t listen?”

“Oh, they’ll listen—to a point. Then they tell you how to fix your problem.”

“What’s wrong with that?” He frowned.

“We don’t want you to fix our problems.”

“You don’t? Then why are you talking to us?” He was thoroughly confused now.

“We just want you to listen.” She gave Luis another piece of pizza before she began to clear the table.

“What’s the use in that?”

“Works for us.”

“Huh.” He folded the pizza box closed. Women. No wonder he’d never had success with them. They were the most confusing species on the planet.

• • •

Raúl pulled into the parking lot of Don Rafa’s Super Mercado to pick up some take-out for lunch.

“Is that wise?” he asked Juan when his brother pushed open the car door.

“What? I’m just another Latino face.”

“First you insist on coming to the meeting, now you’re going to go to the most popular Spanish market in Watsonville.” Raúl slammed the door a little harder than he’d intended. “You’re not just another face. You’re a
strange
face.”

“Stop worrying, little bro. No one’s going to turn me in.”

“Anglos shop here, too, you know.”

Juan waved his hand. “You’re an old woman, bro.”

Stacks of fresh produce—leeks, spinach, lettuce, as well as some more obscure vegetables he couldn’t name—lined one wall. Counters of take-out gave way to an extensive array of meats, many of which were pre-marinated.

“Got any skirt steak?” Raúl asked the man behind the counter.

The man looked at the empty container in the refrigerated case. “I think we may have more in back, Dr. Raúl.”

“Thanks.”

An older but familiar-looking Anglo moved closer to Raúl. “Dr. Raúl Mendez?”

“Yes. Can I help you?” Fear rippled through him, and he glanced around. Juan was inspecting beer in another corner of the store.

The man stuck out his hand. “Joe Wilson. I sent you a letter a few weeks ago.”

Raúl stared at the proffered hand and said, “I got it.” Fear was driven out by anger at the damage this man was trying to do. He longed to choke some sense into the bigot.

Taking in a deep breath, one of the techniques he’d learned at his support group, he gained control of his temper.

“What do you think? Will you support me so real, tax-paying Americans can get the services we need without having to wait in line behind the illegals getting their free services?”

Joe Wilson was oblivious.

“California hospitals and doctors are being overrun by these people with ever-expanding families,” he continued. “If we band together, we can stop them.”

More than oblivious. He was an idiot. Did he know where he was?

Raúl’s temples throbbed. He glanced again at the beer section. Juan had made his selection and was headed their way.

He needed to get out of the market.

“Dr. Raúl, how much do you want?” the man called out from behind the counter.

“A couple of pounds will do.” Raúl moved away from Joe Wilson, hoping he’d get the hint.

Wilson followed him. “It’s not only Anglos who are suffering. Your people who are here legally are hurting, too.”

Raúl’s tongue was going to bleed from biting it so hard.

“Here you go.” The man behind the counter handed him his white-wrapped package.

“What do you think?” Wilson wouldn’t let it go.

“Don’t contact me again.” Raúl stalked to the front of the store, snagging Juan on his way to the front.

“Who was that?” Juan asked when they got to the car.

“Joe Wilson.”

“Oh. I hope you guys can do something to keep that law from passing.”

“You and me both.”

The traffic through the town was easy, and they arrived at the condo within a few minutes of leaving the market.

“I’m going to take a walk,” Juan said after they finished their lunch. “It’s a beautiful day. Want to come?”

“Nope. You go ahead.”

“You look like you could use a walk, bro.”

“I’ve lived a long time without an older brother. Don’t try to make up for my lack in a few short weeks.”

Juan laughed. “See you.”

Raúl took a beer and his tablet and went out to his tiny porch. The view from the small space had been what sold him on the condo. While it lacked the drama or the price of an ocean view, the fields soothed him, reminded him of the good times in his childhood, before everything had gone so terribly wrong.

But he was no longer a teenager, afraid of authorities and cowering from his abusive uncle. He was a man. He didn’t need to pummel everyone with his fists to prove it, but there were things he could do.

He pulled out his phone and tried to reach his
tío,
Alejandro. The last attempts had gone straight to voice mail.

This time, he had success.

“
Buenos días
, Raúl,” Alejandro greeted him warmly after hearing his voice. “I hope you are well.”

“
Sí
. Summertime is beautiful in California.”

“And in Mexico.”

“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.”

“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.