Endless Chain (23 page)

Inside, she alerted the tutors about Miguel and the hoop; then she joined the cooks, making sure Fernando stayed away from the stove and the older children stayed close enough to see the day’s lesson. Adoncia was clearly enjoying herself. Elisa thought her friend would make a good teacher. She had spoken to her about going to college, but Adoncia had too much to deal with at the moment to think about that.

She gave the boys half an hour to install the hoop before she went to check on them. She had just glanced down at Fernando, who was perched on her left hip sucking his thumb sleepily, when she stumbled against someone bounding through the front door.

Strong hands steadied her, and she looked up to find Sam.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you.”

Sam often checked on the children’s progress in the late afternoon. They never wanted to put away their finished homework until Sam could inspect it. Elisa usually avoided him during those times by leaving before he arrived. But today her timing was off.

He was dressed in elegantly faded jeans, a navy turtleneck and a subtly patterned tweed sports coat. One lock of dark hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes were bluer than the October sky. She noticed that he had not yet dropped his hands. They were warm and heavy on her shoulders. “Did you see what’s happening around back?”

He moved away then, his hands falling to his sides. “No. What’s going on?”

“Come see.”

He hesitated. Had anyone else asked this of him, he would have gone without comment.

She moved past him, letting him decide for himself whether walking to the backyard constituted an overload of intimacy. She felt a flash of anger that their friendship, which had been so important to her, had been forced to end this way. Neither of them had asked for the attraction that leapt between them, yet even now, after weeks apart, her body felt warm and liquid, as if the very tissue that held it together was melting away. Female desire had once seemed an academic subject worthy of study, a combination of biological imperative and an instinctive preference for traits to pass on to offspring. Sprinkle in estrogen, testosterone and pheromones, and yearning for a certain man was the result.

It was anything but academic now.

She felt, rather than heard, him follow her. She sped up so they wouldn’t have an opportunity to speak again without the boys present. She wasn’t sure which would be worse, speaking, or finding that he had no intention of doing so.

Leon and Miguel had made great progress, and Elisa was pleased to see the installation was a joint venture. The composite backboard was already installed, and Miguel was up on the ladder tightening what looked like the final screw on the hoop as Leon held it steady. “Look at you,” she said. “It’s up already.”

“Can we play once he’s done?” Leon turned his head but continued to hold tightly to the ladder. “I promised Miguel.”

Elisa couldn’t imagine any activity more enriching than that one. Miguel, mourning his brothers, needed boy time more than he needed anything else.

“I say yes,” she said quickly before Sam could comment. “But only if I can play, too.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” Sam came to stand beside her. “Two per team.”

“What about the baby?” Leon looked doubtful.

Elisa realized if she carried Fernando back inside now, he would wail inconsolably. And there was no spot outside safe enough for him to play without close supervision.

“I’ll take him.”

Elisa saw that some of the older girls had followed them. Damita, who had spoken, held out her arms. “Maybe you’d rather play?” Elisa asked.

Damita, long hair flying, shook her head. “I have a baby brother. I’ll take care of him.”

Elisa knew a deal when she heard one. She set the little boy in Damita’s sturdy arms, and when she saw Fernando looked perfectly at home, she turned. “Reverend Sam and I against you boys. Prepare to lose.”

Leon slung his arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. “We’ll beat them, won’t we?”

The quirk of Miguel’s lips was barely wide enough to qualify as a smile, but it looked like the sun coming out to Elisa.

Leon retrieved a brand-new basketball from the second box. Elisa imagined he had spent much of his pocket money on this equipment, which looked brand-new, and she was proud of him. He tossed the ball to Miguel. The boy tried a few tentative bounces, then he took off for the hoop. He made a basket in one shot.

“Wow!” Leon clapped his hands. “Good going!” The ball bounced in Elisa’s direction, and he stopped clapping in time to intercept it after she tried to pass it to Sam. He dribbled toward the net, but Elisa was in front of him in a flash, raising her arms to make the shot more difficult.

Leon dodged right, then swung left, but she was ready for him. She had taught Ramon that very maneuver, and for one bittersweet moment she pretended this was Ramon in front of her.

Leon whirled 180 degrees, dribbled a few feet, feinted left, feinted right, turned again and shot despite her attempts to block him. But the shot missed, and Sam was right there to catch it. Miguel charged him, and Sam fumbled. In a split second Miguel had the ball and made another successful basket.

Sam looked properly chagrined, although Elisa was sure both the fumble and the sheepish expression were Oscar-winning performances. She provided an encore, retrieving the ball and narrowly missing the next shot. Miguel caught it as it bounced off the backboard.

Miguel shot another basket, and as before, she grabbed the ball as it fell through the net. This time she dodged Leon’s attempts to block her. As the two boys bore down on her, she flashed them each a grin, dribbled a few feet, turned her back to the hoop and lofted the ball high over her shoulder.

She knew from their startled expressions when the ball went through.

“How did you do that?” Leon stopped and stared at her. “You weren’t even looking!”

“I knew where it was. I saw it in my mind’s eye.”

“That’s crazy!”

Miguel, who was less concerned about what she had done and more concerned about what
he
could do, grabbed the ball as Sam neared him, dancing back and forth until he had a credible opening. Then he tossed the ball over Sam’s head. It bounced on the rim and fell back. Elisa scooted around Leon to grab it, but mid-dribble he knocked it out of her hand, clearly determined now that she would get no favors because of age or sex. He made a basket.

More children came to watch, and cheering sections formed. They weren’t keeping score, although Elisa noted that Sam made certain the boys had an equal number of baskets. When he allowed himself the pleasure, his game was fluid and expert. But clearly Sam had the most fun watching the kids.

They had been playing for about twenty minutes when Fernando clamored to get down. Damita tried to cajole him, but several kicks later she put him on the ground, unaware how quick he could be. From the far side of the court Elisa watched the little drama unfold. Damita set the toddler on the ground, keeping a hand on his shoulder to detain him, but Fernando, who was absolutely clear about what he wanted, dodged her hand and ran on to the court.

Leon and Sam were vying for the ball near the edge when Fernando arrived. Before either of them could stop, they plowed into the little boy, and the three of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

Sam managed to protect Fernando by lifting him so his head didn’t hit the pavement. But there was no way to keep him from scraping his shins on the asphalt.

“You okay?” Sam asked Leon as he stood and swung Fernando into his arms.

“Yeah, what about him?”

Elisa arrived to inspect her small friend. His screams had already turned to whimpers. Fernando liked nothing as well as an audience. Sam held him out for her examination. “Scrapes,” she said after a cursory perusal. “Maybe a bruise tomorrow.”

“We have a first aid kit in the upstairs bathroom,” he said. “His mother will want to clean him up.”

Elisa took Fernando and cuddled him against her chest, murmuring softly to him in Spanish until he quieted. “Adoncia will want me to do it. Is the kit in the cabinet?”

“I’ll show you.” Sam turned to the boys. “Looks to me like there are a couple more basketball players here.” He motioned to the biggest girls. Leon looked disgusted, but he nodded.

Elisa assured Damita she hadn’t done anything wrong and that Fernando would be fine. Then she and Sam started toward the house.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” he said, when they were out of earshot.

“I was the captain of my basketball team.”

“You’re pretty short to be anybody’s captain.”

She knew he was teasing. “We have few giants in my country.”

“You practiced. A lot.”

“I have a brother.”

“And he taught you to play?”

“Why do men always think another man must have done the teaching?”

“You’re right. You taught him?”

“He is much younger. He came into the world with a football—what you call a soccer ball—in one hand and a basketball in the other.”

“That must have been hard on your mother.”

“She was so grateful to have him, he could have come with a whole basketball team. She waited a long time for another child.”

“Where is he now?”

This was the central question of her life. Was her brother alive, making his way toward Virginia? Was he in Mexico, trying to cross the border? Or…She would not even allow herself to think of the other possibilities. Until someone presented her with proof her brother was dead, she would not let herself consider it.

“He is seeing the world while he is still young.” She fervently prayed it was true.

“You miss him.”

“More than I can say.”

“You seem so alone.”

She glanced at him from under her eyelashes. “We each make our way in the world. Those who have someone to share the journey with are luckier than they know.”

They reached the porch steps, and Sam opened the door for her. Fernando had nearly fallen asleep, and although Elisa hated to wake him, she knew the scrapes needed to be cleaned and treated. She took him into the kitchen, where Adoncia fussed over him without looking at his injuries. Elisa assured her they were minor and would heal quickly; then she took him upstairs.

Sam followed. She hadn’t really expected his help. She could have found the first aid kit without him, but she was grateful. He removed a plastic tackle box from the cabinet under the sink and set it on the counter. “Want to do it in here?”

“Yes, I’ll need running water.” She took a clean washcloth from a basket over the toilet and handed it to Sam. “Will you wet this?”

The bathroom was tiny, and he had closed the door to keep curious children at bay, although he opened the window over the tub immediately, as if he needed the fresh air for reassurance. In the confined space, she was more aware of him than ever. As she swayed to comfort Fernando, her hips brushed Sam’s. She crooned softly in Spanish, trying not to notice the solid feel of Sam’s hip against hers.

When the washcloth was ready, she perched the little boy on the edge of the counter, one arm around him to be sure he didn’t slip off. “Will you keep him steady while I wash my hands?” she asked Sam.

Sam leaned over and put an arm around Fernando, too. For a moment they were linked by their connection to the little boy. Their faces were only inches apart. He smelled faintly of lime, and she could see twin depressions at the bridge of his nose, probably from reading or sunglasses. Then, suddenly aware that she had lingered too long, Elisa let him take Fernando’s weight and she slipped away. She lathered her hands with liquid soap and rinsed twice. Then she took the washcloth.

“I can take over from here,” she said.

“I’ll stay and keep him company.”

She was aware of his eyes on her and the warmth of his body beside her as she sponged Fernando’s leg. The toddler was too interested to protest. She concentrated on examining the scrapes—two areas—carefully and swung him close to the faucet. “I’m going to take off your shoes, Nando,” she crooned. “Then your leg will take a bath in the sink.”

He giggled.

“Is he always this accommodating?” Sam asked.

“He’s a wonderful little boy.” She put her forehead against Fernando’s. “Aren’t you,
querido?
”

Fernando put his arms around her neck and kissed her.

“He’s a
lucky
little boy,” Sam said.

Her heart took off again, and she couldn’t look at him. Her fingers fumbled with the Velcro fasteners of Fernando’s sneakers, but she managed to get them off quickly enough. She put his socks—so tiny they gave her a pang—inside his shoes and whirled him around so she could run water over his leg.

He didn’t like this part as well. He whimpered a little, but Sam began to make faces at him, and in a moment Fernando, trying to imitate them, forgot to worry.

“Adoncia won’t thank you for that. He’ll be making faces at everybody.” Elisa made certain there was no debris clinging to Fernando’s skin. When she was satisfied all the dirt had been washed away, she lathered the cloth with soap and gently cleaned his leg. Sam’s faces got wilder, and Fernando only protested twice.