The Saddle Maker's Son (25 page)

A son should never see his daed kissing a woman, any woman other than his mudder. Still, Tobias managed a smile as he backed onto the front porch, letting Hazel scramble past him, still giggling. If he were younger, he might giggle too. Daed didn't need to know his oldest son had seen him smooching the schoolteacher in broad daylight. His daed had found the thing he needed in a woman who'd never been married, seemed almost as opinionated as her brother, and had the same penchant for using a lot of words. Opposites did attract. Like Rebekah and him. He'd come here to see the kinner. And Rebekah. She had to come to grips with his past. She would see that he'd made the right choice. His choice had brought him here to her.

She would see that. Someday, David would see it, too, when he found the right Plain woman for him. Tobias would pray that it wouldn't be in the too-distant future. For either of them.

Until then Tobias would see Rebekah every time he closed his eyes. He would see how she looked that first time he leaned down and kissed her, like a startled doe, with skin so soft and blue eyes so clear. He shook his head as if that would allow him to think more clearly. “Stop mooning around. Find Lupe and Diego.”

“Talking to yourself?” Jesse pushed through the door and closed it behind him. Despite red-rimmed eyes and a dark five-o'clock shadow, he looked as happy as any man Tobias had ever seen. With his faded blue jeans, white T-shirt, and black sneakers, he also looked as Englisch as they came. “That's a bad sign when a man prefers himself as company for a conversation.”

“Nee, it's just been a long day.”

Jesse plopped down on the top step as if his legs would no longer hold him. Butch rose from his spot on the corner of the porch, sauntered over, and nosed the man's arm. Jesse scratched between the old hund's ears. His tail thumped in time on the wood. “The sun's still up. The day's not over yet.”

“How are Leila and the bopli?”

“Fine. Sleeping.” Jesse rubbed his face with his free hand. “Emmanuel has a mighty good set of lungs for a little boy who arrived almost a month early. I reckon we'll be hearing from him plenty often. No sleeping through that caterwauling.”

“You're spending the night here, then?”

Bright red spots pinched Jesse's cheeks. He shoved his hand through already-tousled hair. “That would be too much to ask. I'll go home for the night and come back tomorrow to pick her and the baby up. Abigail isn't letting go of Gracie anytime soon, so she'll stay here too.”

“Then let Diego and Lupe spend the night at our house.” Tobias eased onto the step next to Jesse, careful not to sit on Butch's still-wagging tail. “Liam and the girls would like that a lot, and I reckon Diego and Lupe feel the same.”

As would he. It was hard to protect the two kinner when they were out of his sight all the time.

“I came looking for you to talk about all that.”

Something in his tone tipped Tobias off. His stomach tensed. He swallowed and waited.

“I've been talking to people I know from this organization called the Interfaith Welcome Coalition. They're at the bus stations in San Antonio when ICE dumps off the immigrants who've been released after they pass their credible fear interview and make their request for asylum. They give them cell phones and money and help them figure out the bus schedules so they can get to other parts of the country to their families. They have some houses where they can spend the night if it's too late to head out.”

He didn't know what most of that meant, but Tobias nodded, still waiting.

“I showed the photo of Lupe and Diego's dad to a bunch of the volunteers. One of them is a lawyer who does pro bono work for an organization called Refugee and Immigrant Center for Education and Legal Services. RAICES. That means ‘roots' in Spanish. She thinks she saw him at the shelter in San Antonio.”

Too much information came at Tobias all at once. Jesse might as well be speaking Greek. Tobias latched onto the thing he understood. The photo. “That photo is old. How can she be sure?”

“She wasn't at first, but then she looked at the photo of the kids he held in his hands.” Jesse smiled, deep dimples appearing. “She said the man was sitting on the floor at the bus station when she approached him. They mostly deal with women and children, but they try to help the men who come in from the Pearsall Detention Center too. She stopped to talk to him because he looked troubled. He had the exact same photo in his hand that Lupe has. I had been showing both photos around to everyone, asking if they'd seen him. She remembered it. He was staring at it.”

“The photo of the kinner with their groossmammi.”

“Yep. It was Carlos Martinez.”

“It's been years since they heard from him. Where's he been all this time? He's not a new illegal.”

“That's the thing. He might have been in the States for a while, but if he was working on the border and got caught up in a raid, he would've been treated like he was part of this latest wave. He was probably sent to the detention center in Pearsall and got bonded out. That's what they're doing with them now. Either bonding them out or granting asylum-hearing requests.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Last week.”

“Would he still be there?”

“Could be. Karen says he was released by ICE with an electronic ankle monitor. They're doing that now to make sure they show up for their hearing with the immigration judges. His is in San Antonio, but not until next year. That's how backed up they are.”

Tobias contemplated the horizon. The sun dipped behind Mordecai's barn. Crickets chirped in a song far too cheerful for the topic at hand. A mosquito buzzed his ear. He swatted it away. “Looks like we need to go to San Antonio.”

“Yep.”

“Did you tell Lupe?”

“Nope.”

Good move. No sense in getting her hopes up. “What if we don't find him?”

“Karen says if we turn the kinner over to the Office of Refugees, we'll never get access to them. Once the federal government gets them, no volunteer organization gets near the kids.”

“So they stay here illegally?”

Jesse stood and dusted off his hands on his jeans. “One step at a time. I'll call Karen and ask her to drive into San Antonio with us tomorrow to the shelter where folks are staying.” He glanced at his watch. “It's a two-hour drive. We'll want to go early. Talk to Mordecai. See if he and Abigail will let Rebekah go with us.”

Tobias stood. He towered over Jesse, but the man had a presence about him that made him seem taller than he was. Bigger. Two hours in a car with Rebekah. With Jesse as a chaperone. “Why do you want her to go?”

“She speaks the most Spanish.”

“He's been here awhile. Surely he speaks the language.”

“Some immigrants never learn English, especially if they are illegal. They don't mix with the general population for fear of being caught.” Jesse stretched and yawned. “Don't you want her to go?”

“Jah, I do.” The words came out too quickly. No way to walk them back now. “I mean—”

“That's what I thought. Don't worry about it. It's a long trip there and back. Plenty of time.” Jesse chuckled and slapped Tobias on the back and strode away. “But just so you know, I imagine Mordecai will go, too, so no shenanigans.”

Shenanigans. Plain folks didn't go in for shenanigans.

What were shenanigans exactly? Tobias found himself wanting to answer that question firsthand. Instead he stomped around to the back of the house in hopes he could see Lupe and Diego in the kitchen without coming upon his daed kissing Susan.

Now that must be what Jesse meant by shenanigans.

Refrigerated air felt a lot like winter. Rebekah shivered and tucked her cold hands under her arms. The car, which Karen Little called an SUV, had all the bells and whistles according to Jesse, who seemed to know all about cars. He and this lady lawyer had gone on and on about it as if Plain folks cared about four-wheel drive and backup cameras and folding mirrors. It had three rows of seats so Karen could take whole immigrant families from the bus station to the houses where they could spend the night until they moved on. Now that was important.

Karen seemed like a person who would know what was important. With her gray pantsuit that looked like men's clothes and her dark-rimmed glasses perched on the end of a thin nose, she looked like Rebekah imagined a lawyer would look. Only she was a woman. A woman who wore no jewelry or makeup like most Englisch women did.

Rebekah was glad Karen drove and not Jesse. As much experience as he had, it couldn't be as much as an Englisch lady. Traffic into San Antonio was thicker than flies on garbage. The closer they came to the city, the more it thickened. Honking,
squealing brakes, eighteen wheelers, Greyhound buses, pickup trucks. Rebekah marveled at how so many people could live so close together, just as she did every time they came to the zoo or the botanical garden or the Alamo in what Mordecai called the tenth largest city in the US of A.

He always said it just like that. US of A. Only his insistence had convinced Mudder to allow Rebekah to come to the big city this time. Only because Mordecai would be with her the entire time. Only because Lupe and Diego's lives depended on it. Their existence in the US of A depended on it. She shivered again, this time with apprehension. What if they didn't find Carlos Martinez?

“Are you cold?” Tobias reached past her and adjusted a knob on a small console in front of her. The space between them closed for a few seconds, then reopened as big as the pasture where Mordecai tended his bees. “Just say so. Don't sit there shivering.”

“I'm not. I'm fine.”

Tobias had been quiet for the better part of the trip, his gaze fixed on the road whizzing by in a blur that made Rebekah dizzy. She glanced at the front seat. Jesse had his head back. She couldn't see if his eyes were open. Karen fiddled with the knob on the stereo. The music, already soft and hypnotic, quieted.

A snore trumpeted from the backseat. Rebekah jumped and shrieked. Tobias laughed. “You sure are jumpy.”

She wasn't jumpy, just not used to traveling in such close quarters with a man who had kissed her the way Tobias had. Did he think about it? She did. Morning, noon, and night.

“What was that noise?” Jesse swiveled. “Was that Mordecai?”

“Jah.” Tobias laughed harder. “How does anyone in your house sleep, Rebekah?”

She squirmed. It wasn't that loud and she really didn't think it was a good idea for them to talk about sleeping arrangements in front of Jesse and an Englisch woman. She studied her hands. To sit so close to Tobias and yet feel so far from him was more than hard. It was excruciating.

“What's the matter?” His voice was barely a whisper. She glanced up. His hand slipped over the leather expanse between them, fingers outstretched. “Are you worried?”

She shook her head and glanced toward the front. No one was looking. Another snore told her Mordecai still slept. “Lupe knew something was up. She came to the bedroom door when I was slipping out this morning. She wanted to know where we were going.”

“You didn't tell her, did you?”

“I told her we were going to see a lawyer about what to do for them. She wanted to come.”

“She couldn't come.”

“Nee.”

“Is something else wrong? You seem so far away.”

“I don't know what to think.” She glanced at the front seat. Jesse was wide awake now. “About anything.”

Or feel. This wasn't the time or place for discussion of a private nature. She leaned away from Tobias. “How is David?”

Word had spread about the split between David and Bobbie. Even though the Byler family had lived in the community only a short time, a collective sigh of relief had been heard from one corner to the other. “Moping around like he just lost the love of his life.”

“You sound as if you're judging.” He, of all people, had no right to judge. He had loved another, too, an Englisch woman with the
nerve to have such a lovely name—Serena. “It takes time to get over a thing like that, as you well know.”

“Nee, I'm not judging. I do know how he feels.”

“Don't rub it in.” Heat burned her cheeks. “I don't need to be reminded.”

“I wasn't trying to rub it—”

“Karen, how did you get started helping these people from other countries?” Rebekah turned toward the front seat and lifted her voice to be heard over the noisy rush of AC air. “Do you drive all the way to San Antonio all the time to work with them?”

“A few times a week, usually. My base is in Karnes County, though.” Karen's face framed by tight, dark curls appeared in the rearview mirror for a fleeting second. “My parents are Mennonites. The home we're visiting is run by Mennonites.”

Mennonites. They were a lot like Amish, only different. That's what Mordecai said. With her suit and her SUV, she didn't look anything like Amish. “You're Mennonite?”

“Born and raised. I still go to services when I get back home to Bastrop.”

“What does that have to do with the . . .” Tobias seemed to be searching for a word. “Immigrants like Lupe and Diego's father?”

“The Interfaith Welcome Coalition includes people from different churches like Methodist, Catholic, Presbyterians, Quakers, and Mennonites.” She smiled in the mirror. “Different faiths banded together to help.”

“How did Carlos seem to you?” Rebekah leaned forward to hear over Mordecai's snores. “You said he seemed troubled. Did he tell you what was on his mind?”

“He didn't say much. I gave him a food voucher and a prepaid disposable cell phone. And some printed materials in
Spanish—information on legal options. That's what we do for all of them.”

“You didn't ask him who those people were in the photo?”

“It was obvious from the look on his face. People important to him. Family. He missed them.”

A
tick, tick
sound told Rebekah that Karen had put on the turn signal. They were exiting the highway. Rebekah pressed her face to the window and watched as the scenery turned from high-rise buildings and stores to houses. It didn't seem to take too long before they turned into the driveway of an older two-story house painted a soft yellow color faded with age. “We're here.” Karen put the SUV in park and snapped off her seat belt. “Luz, one of the volunteers, said she saw Carlos a couple of times last week. He's been coming by now and then to visit with a mom from El Salvador who's staying here with her three kids. Men can't stay in this house overnight. It is only for women and children. He seems to be living on the street.”

Living on the street. What a strange way to put it. Lupe and Diego's father had no house to sleep in, no money, no job. Where did people like him who were hiding from immigration go? “So he might come here today to visit her?”

“If he does, it will be in the evening. She thinks he hires out with the other day laborers downtown when he can get work.”

Karen led the way into the house. Rebekah hung back, letting the men go first. Mordecai smiled and patted her shoulder. “A lot to take in, isn't it?”

“I can't believe we might meet Lupe and Diego's father.”

“Are you happy or sad about that?”

Mordecai had a way of getting to the core of problems. “Both, I guess.”

“Understandable.”

Was it? Or selfish? Lupe and Diego had managed to worm their way into her heart. She would miss them if they left with their daed, but it was best for them. Wasn't it? Would they live on the street too? Or would they be allowed to stay in this Mennonite house until they had a place to go? Would they be sent back to their country with their father after he had his hearing? The questions pressed on her, heavy with uncertainty. Her neck ached.

The house was crowded with furniture and toys. The walls were painted a pale blue that made it seem happy somehow. Kinner played with blocks in one corner. A baby cried in a playpen. The mouthwatering aroma of food cooking—beans, maybe, with bell peppers and onions and garlic—floated in the air. Rebekah tried not to stare at the women who sat at a table filling out forms and talking softly in that same singsong Spanish Lupe and Diego used when they were jabbering, just the two of them.

“Here she is. This is Angelica Sanchez.” Karen pointed to the arm of a thin woman with dark hair pulled back in a long ponytail. She stood at the kitchen table chopping tomatoes. Karen pronounced her name with a soft
g
. “She knows Carlos Martinez.”

The woman nodded but didn't stop chopping. Nor did she smile. In fact, her eyes filled with tears. Karen spoke to her in Spanish. The woman responded with a torrent of Spanish that was too much, too fast for Rebekah to comprehend. Karen's smile faded. She glanced at them and then away.

“What is it? What is she saying?” Jesse's expression said he saw the same thing she did. “Can you translate?”

“It's too fast. I'm not getting it.”

Rebekah squeezed between Tobias and Karen, trying to get closer to hear better. It didn't help. The woman's distress was
obvious, though. Anguish bled through every word. She dropped the knife. Her hands flailed, punctuating her words. Karen stopped her a few times, interjecting questions, her expression perturbed at first and then horrified.

“What is it? What's she saying?”

Karen patted the woman's arm and thanked her.
“Lo siento. Lo siento mucho.”

I'm sorry. I'm very sorry.

Karen put an arm around Rebekah and drew her away as the woman picked up the knife and went back to chopping tomatoes, her face once again stoic.

“What happened?”

“In the other room.”

They followed her into the living room where Karen sank into a couch and drew Rebekah down next to her. A woman feeding a bottle to her baby eyed them with curiosity, then rose and padded away on bare feet. Karen shoved her glasses up her nose and sighed. “I'm afraid the news isn't good.”

“We gathered that much.” Mordecai dropped into a rocking chair and clasped his hands in front of him. “Something happened to him?”

“He's dead.”

The words seemed foreign. It took seconds for them to sink in. It couldn't be. Not after they'd come all this way. After he'd come all this way. And Lupe and Diego. They had no parents now. Only the grandma who'd sent them here for a better life.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Rebekah pushed aside the pillow next to her and the smell of wet diaper that emanated from it. “How can that be? How does she know?”

“Carlos hadn't been around for a few days. He was supposed
to come see Angelica. She tried calling him on the cell phone we gave him. No answer. She was worried, but there was nothing she could do. No way to find him. She thought he'd lost interest.”

“He was interested in her?”

“They were trying to find a way to stay together.”

Lupe and Diego's father had found love—or the beginning of love—in America and the hope of a new life. The lump grew. Rebekah breathed through the ache that spread through her chest. She would not cry in front of everyone. “What happened?”

“A homicide detective from the police department showed up yesterday.” Her gaze downcast, Karen smoothed a wrinkle in her gray slacks. “Carlos had paperwork on his . . . person with the address here on it. The detective showed around a photo of him and wanted to know who knew him. Being afraid of law enforcement, as they all are, Angelica denied it at first. She's so afraid of being deported—”

“What happened?” This time Jesse interjected with the question. “Homicide. He was murdered?”

Karen nodded. “I'm so sorry. They found him near a highway overpass where a lot of the homeless people sleep at night. He'd been beaten and bashed in the head with a tire iron or something like that.”

Bile rose in the back of Rebekah's throat. Her stomach heaved. She put her hands against it, willing her breakfast to stay down. Tobias sank onto the couch next to her. He didn't touch her, but she felt his presence like a warm, sure hug.

He sighed. “Why?”

“Why? Who knows? He had something someone wanted. A pack of cigarettes. A soda. He wouldn't give it up. It doesn't take much when people are desperate.”

No one spoke for several seconds. The sound of children giggling mingled with voices speaking in Spanish on a TV in the corner that no one seemed to be watching. A woman called to another. Something about lunch being ready in a few minutes. Normal, everyday sounds.

“They'll try to find who did this?” Mordecai posed the question. “It seems a person should be punished for it.”

“They'll try, but folks who live on the street are the see-nothing, hear-nothing, know-nothing kind. It's safer not to know anything.”

“What will happen to his . . . to him?” Rebekah managed to get the question out without a quiver in her voice. “He has no one to bury him.”

“The county will take care of it.”

“A pauper's burial.” Jesse's jaw worked. He clasped his hands so tightly, his knuckles turned white. “No one to mourn.”

Karen didn't answer, but her face spoke volumes.

“We should go home.” Mordecai stood. “There's nothing we can do here.”

“I have a couple of things to take care of first, if you don't mind waiting a few minutes.” Karen rubbed red eyes. “It's lunchtime. You could stay and eat with the families. There's always plenty.”