Endless Chain (42 page)

“I love you.”

“You got me out here to tell me this?”

“I—” He put his hand back on the wheel to turn a corner on to the main road that would take him to the parking lot. “Elisa, I saw a young man who looks so much like you I think it’s possible he might be Ramon.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the road, but he heard her draw a breath.

“He doesn’t look that much like the newspaper photo,” he continued. “He’s young, but not quite a boy. It’s the resemblance to you that’s striking. Please don’t be too disappointed if I’ve made a mistake here. But the only way I could tell was to bring you to see him. He’s working for Jenkins, and Jenkins hires men by the hour. But they’re just grading a parking lot, and I didn’t know how long he’d be there.”

He finally hazarded a glance. Her lips were pressed together, but she was nodding.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I have been disappointed many times. I will survive another.”

She would survive, of this he had no doubt. But she would still be sad for days to come. He prayed silently the rest of the way.

The trucks were still there. He parked on the road, since the men had cordoned off the lot while they worked. Elisa got out, too, and he joined her on the passenger’s side.

“Let’s act like we’re going into one of the stores. Just take your time.” Sam spotted the young man over to one side, shovel in hand. He was filling potholes in the lot with gravel they’d brought in the first truck. No one paid attention to them.

“Let’s go this way,” Sam said, nudging Elisa toward the side closest to the young man. He glanced at her and saw she had already spotted him, but she said nothing. She was squinting since the sun was behind the building and the glare was noticeable. She shaded her eyes, then thought better of it.

“You see him?” Sam asked softly.

She didn’t answer. She picked up the pace, moving closer quickly. Ten yards away she gasped.

Sam didn’t know if the man heard the sound, as soft as it was, but he put his shovel down and turned to face them.

Sam wasn’t sure which of them ran into the other’s arms. The woman to the young man, the young man to the woman. He only knew that in a moment Ramon and Elisa were clasping each other as if no one would ever separate them again.

“H
ow do you get back three lost years?” Elisa asked Sam. On Christmas Eve morning they were cuddled in front of Sam’s fireplace sipping coffee. He had risen and built a fire, knowing Elisa would arrive early, even though she had departed well past midnight last night. Ramon was sleeping soundly in Sam’s guest room and showed no signs of waking.

Sam had plugged in his tree lights for seasonal ambience. The lights were the discount store variety, nothing special, but the ornaments had all been made for him by Sunday-school children here and in Georgia. He treasured them, along with the three holiday lunch boxes parading across his mantel like a train pulled by a fleet of corny plastic reindeer.

He reclined a little more and pulled her between his legs to rest more comfortably. “You can’t get the years back, but the two of you made a start on catching up last night. How do you find him? Different than you expected? More damaged by everything he’s gone through? Less?”

“Less and more. He was always so open, so willing to talk about his feelings, his hopes and dreams. Now he thinks like an adult, but he hesitates before he says anything. Even to me.”

“It makes sense,” Sam said. “You were much the same way.”

“Yes, and when you get used to not trusting anyone, it’s hard to change back. I understand, but it’s hard to watch.”

“I like what I see. I’m looking forward to getting to know him once his guard is down a little.”

“He’s all grown up. All the things I had planned to tell him, he knows them already. And he’s so handsome. If he hasn’t yet broken hearts, he will soon.”

“I guess it only makes sense that the two of you were in the same places but never at the same time. Not even close.”

Ramon had told them his story in fits and starts as he consumed a meal of nearly everything Sam had on hand. They had discovered that after eluding their pursuers and hiding alone for two weeks deep in the mountains, Ramon had found his way to a rural hospital he and Gabrio had once visited.

A doctor there had kept him hidden for a month while reporting what the newspapers were saying about Gabrio’s murder and Elisa’s disappearance. Then he had taken Ramon to stay with friends on the coast, who pretended he was a cousin from California visiting Guatemala to improve his Spanish. The select people who knew the truth had tried to help him learn Elisa’s fate, but of course, no one had been able to.

Finally, almost a year later, when it was clear he would draw suspicion if he stayed in Guatemala any longer, he crossed the border into Mexico, using another boy’s identification papers. No one had questioned him. From there he had followed his sister’s route unknowingly, making detours, but stopping at the places he thought she might go.

As suspected, Ramon had waited in Manzanillo for their father’s friends to return from Arizona, until he was afraid the police would question him if he stayed longer. The photograph from the funeral in Mexico City had been of someone else, but Ramon had been outside in the plaza listening and paying tribute.

The rest of the story was a saga of evasions and lies, of traveling from Agua Prieta in Mexico into ranch land in Cochise County, Arizona, of being attacked by a gang on the border, of being badly beaten for refusing to carry drugs to pay his passage, of hunger and thirst, of the good luck of speaking such excellent English that no one questioned his increasingly complex

stories, of traveling to Texas, where twice he was nearly picked up by police. And finally of finding Judy’s telephone number on a library computer and making the call that had brought him across the country to Virginia.

He had been in the area for most of two weeks, watching the church without success for his sister. He had not traced Martha to the nursing home and had not known to check there. The money he had earned delivering flyers in Louisiana on the journey had run out, but he had managed to find several days’ work at Jenkins Landscaping while he tried to figure out what to do next.

He was John Garcia, born in Brownsville, Texas, in 1983, and he had a driver’s license to prove it, although Sam hoped he didn’t try to buy alcohol once the license proclaimed he was twenty-one. Any good bartender would spot it as a fake.

“What did you tell Ramon about us?” Sam asked.

“I told him I love you. I think he understands that my love for you does nothing to dishonor my love for Gabrio. That I have been blessed with the hearts of two good men.”

Sam was glad, but the next question was harder. “And the future? Did you talk?”

“There hasn’t been time. It’s enough now that he’s here, alive, although much too thin.”

“With that appetite, he’ll fill out quickly.”

“I had always planned that if we found each other, we would lose ourselves in New York or Los Angeles, take new identities and forget the past. I think that was a dream.”

“And the reality?”

“After tomorrow, we can discuss alternatives. We have Christmas to celebrate together. The first in many years.”

“Mack is free now to pull out all the stops, Elisa. Ramon is a witness, and he is here with you, and safe. He’ll know how to keep you both that way.”

“If it were only that easy.”

He wove his fingers through hers. “Wait until the beginning of the year before you make any big decisions. You and Ramon deserve a little time together just to get to know each other again. Then we’ll bring Mack in for a good discussion. But may I tell him Ramon is here?”

She considered. “It’s a good plan…only—” She squirmed around to face him. “Our reunion was so public. I don’t know what the men heard….”

Elisa had tried to cover the emotional scene by telling the men closest to Ramon in the parking lot that Ramon was a friend of her family and she hadn’t known he was living in Virginia. But Sam, too, wondered how much of the conversation between Ramon and his sister had been logged by Jenkins’ crew before Elisa and Ramon remembered where they were.

“What reason would they have to report it?” He kissed her hand. “Wouldn’t they have a natural distrust of the INS and sympathy for a fellow traveler, even if they suspect Ramon is here illegally?”

“Diego was not close enough to hear us. But he’s angry at me because of Adoncia. He has already made threats. And if he suspects anything…”

“There’s a lot of room between vague suspicion and a report to the authorities.”

“I have come this far, and so has my brother, because we have struggled not to raise suspicions of any kind.”

“It’s not a skill you’ll forget easily.”

“Alicia?”

Elisa turned toward the doorway, and her face lit up. “Ramon, how did you sleep?”

Ramon, in an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants of Sam’s, hair loose to his shoulders, smiled. “Without nightmares.”

Trying anything new was always a challenge for a minister. For twenty years the Sunday school classes had held a traditional Christmas pageant. Former Josephs and Marys, grown up now, came back for the children’s service at five to bask in remembered glory. Resistance to
Las Posadas
had been scattered but loud in some quarters. Conservative Shenandoah County sometimes viewed change with suspicion, and the church was a mirror.

Halfway through the procession down Old Miller Road, as the children turned back to the church, Sam thought that this idea, at least, had been a success. Apparently so did the parents who lined the route with cameras.

They had found a donkey for Damita, who was dressed as Mary, and Miguel, dressed as Joseph, walked beside her leading the docile beast. The other children were dressed as angels, shepherds or simply in their Sunday best. Walking slowly two by two with electric candles, they looked almost beatific. The sun set as they began the procession, and there was only the slightest sliver of a moon in the twilight sky. The sheriff’s office had kindly agreed to reroute traffic for the brief duration of their walk, and the absence of cars made the event holier.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Elisa said.

He wondered if their children would ever be part of
Las Posadas
. With the demands of the Christmas season—one of a minister’s busiest times of year—and with the arrival of Ramon, he’d had little time to contemplate the future. But he wondered if someday he would witness this event with a father’s pride, Elisa at his side taking photographs or walking beside their children as an escort.

He put his arm around her for just a moment. “Very beautiful.”

“And these are the same children who have been plotting how to divide up the spoils once the piñata is cracked. They learned important lessons from your last one.”

The last piñata seemed very long ago. Sam realized how much his life had changed in a few short months.

With Ramon beside them, they followed the procession back to the church, where Andy, the choir director, would greet them at the door with the traditional response. This was the longest part of the performance, and as he neared the church, Sam could see that their audience had grown substantially. He was both surprised and gratified to see that many of the members who usually skipped the children’s service and attended the traditional seven o’clock service had arrived to witness the procession.

He wondered how many were there to support the children and how many to support
La Casa
and all it encompassed. No matter. He was gratified his congregation had taken
Las Posadas
and all it stood for to heart. As he had told the children, this was a story of welcome, of overcoming fear to offer help to strangers. He was proud that this year Community Church had undertaken both.

At the church, he watched from the end of the line as Miguel knocked on the door and a scowling Andrew answered.

Then the children began their song, and at last this final innkeeper recognized Mary and Joseph and, with a smile, invited them to enter. All together, with Andrew, they sang:

“Enter Holy Pilgrims,” Adoncia with her own children in tow, translated for the observers. “Receive this corner. This dwelling may be poor, but I offer it with all my heart.”

Andrew threw open the door, and the children waited just long enough for “Mary” to slide off her donkey so that the animal could be led away by its owner. Then, with a whoop, they streamed inside.

“And the little angels turn back into children,” Adoncia said.

The audience clapped loudly.

From inside, Mexican music filled the social hall.

“Everyone’s invited for the party,” Sam announced. “It will be short but sweet.”

With another more solemn service coming up, and family celebrations still to be had at home, they had decided to serve only hot cider and cocoa. Sam was still fairly certain a lot of Christmas Eve suppers would be untouched by the children who managed to scoop up their share of the piñata’s spoils, as well as those who received plastic bags filled with extra goodies as consolation prizes.

“The older children have promised to let the little children have a chance before they charge in,” Adoncia told him, as she passed. Her words were punctuated by a loud whack. Beyond her, one of the smaller girls, blindfolded and dressed as an angel, had managed a hit. He was glad to see that the piñata, a five-pointed star adorned with streamers, remained intact. The more children who took their turn with it, the better.