that.”
Memories of the day he returned home from school to find his small house deserted, closets and drawers half open, the only communication a scribbled note from his mother, had left him with a fear that ran through his veins as easily as the blood the vessels carried. What if he went to Mexico and vanished like his family had?
“I’ll see.”
“You are afraid,” his father said.
“
Sí.
The government is so divided, it’s difficult to say what they will do next. What if they decide that I cannot come back because my parents were illegal?”
“For a doctor, you do not know much. It is in the Constitution. Fourteenth Amendment. They have to let their citizens back into the country.”
“Yeah.” But the NSA stomped on the centuries-old document every day.
“I am sorry, Raúl. I wish it was different.” He sensed his father’s shrug in his voice. “But we live the life we’re dealt,” his father continued. “Arguing with God is like arguing with an old dog. It does not work.”
Raúl chuckled, but the ache in his soul was undiminished. His father was a hard-working man. America would have been better off with him in it.
As the pause lengthened, Raúl stuffed his emotions back into their box, locking it with the strongest rational chains possible.
“So what else are you not doing because you are afraid?” his father asked.
Living my life.
He chose the least personal subject. “There’s a guy here. He’s trying to get a new law passed to prevent doctors from treating illegals in Santa Cruz County.”
“You must stop him, Raúl. You must fight.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“No thinking. You must be doing. Live life unafraid, because that is where God’s blessing lies.”
“
Sí, Pap
á
.
” It never paid to argue with his father when his mind was made up.
“I think you are not totally committed,” his father said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
He never had been able to lie well to his father.
“I must go now. It is time for me to go back to work. Please call again. Come to see us. Your mother misses you.”
“I miss you, too,
Pap
á.”
An emotional fragment slipped through the keyhole in his mind, and he put his head in his hands and sobbed as the image of the empty house replayed itself over and over.
Chapter 9
In spite of the cool morning fog, Alicia’s palms were damp on the steering wheel. She hadn’t heard from Raúl since their brunch on Sunday, except for a brief confirmation of their regular Wednesday meeting. Had the kiss changed everything?
She touched her lips. Of course it had.
Sarah had encouraged her to invite him to the inn’s Fourth of July celebration, but she wasn’t sure it was time yet. Would he take her invitation as a step too soon?
But he
had
kissed her.
He wasn’t in the coffee shop when she got there, but she beat him there most of the time. She idly studied the latest CDs as the barista made her tea.
Moments with Raúl were hard to forget. His deft touch with her son. The expression on his face when he listened to her. The touch of his lips on hers.
He appeared five minutes after she’d gotten there. He looked weary, as if he had a lot on his mind. He gave her a wan smile as he went to the line.
When he put his coffee container on the small table, the sweet smell of mocha rose from the paper cup. She stared at the green logo, unwilling to look into his eyes, afraid of what she might see in them.
Had he changed his mind?
Forcing herself to look up, she kept her expression neutral. His eyes reflected sadness, more sorrow than she’d ever seen there before.
Coffee scents wafted between them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it the kiss?” A deep line wrinkled his forehead.
Her face must have been a mirror of his.
“No, that was wonderful.” She touched the top of his hand with the tips of her fingers. “I could ask you the same thing. You look like you’ve received bad news.”
He looked at the table, his
Memories of the day he returned home from school to find his small house deserted, closets and drawers half open, the only communication a scribbled note from his mother, had left him with a fear that ran through his veins as easily as the blood the vessels carried. What if he went to Mexico and vanished like his family had?
“I’ll see.”
“You are afraid,” his father said.
“
Sí.
The government is so divided, it’s difficult to say what they will do next. What if they decide that I cannot come back because my parents were illegal?”
“For a doctor, you do not know much. It is in the Constitution. Fourteenth Amendment. They have to let their citizens back into the country.”
“Yeah.” But the NSA stomped on the centuries-old document every day.
“I am sorry, Raúl. I wish it was different.” He sensed his father’s shrug in his voice. “But we live the life we’re dealt,” his father continued. “Arguing with God is like arguing with an old dog. It does not work.”
Raúl chuckled, but the ache in his soul was undiminished. His father was a hard-working man. America would have been better off with him in it.
As the pause lengthened, Raúl stuffed his emotions back into their box, locking it with the strongest rational chains possible.
“So what else are you not doing because you are afraid?” his father asked.
Living my life.
He chose the least personal subject. “There’s a guy here. He’s trying to get a new law passed to prevent doctors from treating illegals in Santa Cruz County.”
“You must stop him, Raúl. You must fight.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“No thinking. You must be doing. Live life unafraid, because that is where God’s blessing lies.”
“
Sí, Pap
á
.
” It never paid to argue with his father when his mind was made up.
“I think you are not totally committed,” his father said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
He never had been able to lie well to his father.
“I must go now. It is time for me to go back to work. Please call again. Come to see us. Your mother misses you.”
“I miss you, too,
Pap
á.”
An emotional fragment slipped through the keyhole in his mind, and he put his head in his hands and sobbed as the image of the empty house replayed itself over and over.
Chapter 9
In spite of the cool morning fog, Alicia’s palms were damp on the steering wheel. She hadn’t heard from Raúl since their brunch on Sunday, except for a brief confirmation of their regular Wednesday meeting. Had the kiss changed everything?
She touched her lips. Of course it had.
Sarah had encouraged her to invite him to the inn’s Fourth of July celebration, but she wasn’t sure it was time yet. Would he take her invitation as a step too soon?
But he
had
kissed her.
He wasn’t in the coffee shop when she got there, but she beat him there most of the time. She idly studied the latest CDs as the barista made her tea.
Moments with Raúl were hard to forget. His deft touch with her son. The expression on his face when he listened to her. The touch of his lips on hers.
He appeared five minutes after she’d gotten there. He looked weary, as if he had a lot on his mind. He gave her a wan smile as he went to the line.
When he put his coffee container on the small table, the sweet smell of mocha rose from the paper cup. She stared at the green logo, unwilling to look into his eyes, afraid of what she might see in them.
Had he changed his mind?
Forcing herself to look up, she kept her expression neutral. His eyes reflected sadness, more sorrow than she’d ever seen there before.
Coffee scents wafted between them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it the kiss?” A deep line wrinkled his forehead.
Her face must have been a mirror of his.
“No, that was wonderful.” She touched the top of his hand with the tips of her fingers. “I could ask you the same thing. You look like you’ve received bad news.”
He looked at the table, his
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