| |
Even though the air all around Port Provident was heavy with September humidity and the now-constant smells of mold and decay, Gloria pulled air into her lungs, filling them all the way until they pressed down her diaphragm. She felt like she could finally breathe again.
She’d been so wrapped up in holding her emotions tightly that she hadn’t seen how they were locking her in like a girdle of strife and anxiety. She’d been so concerned with making her family and friends and patients think she was fine that instead, she’d created more problems.
And she’d been so focused on living day to day that she’d forgotten there was an eternal vision.
But as she looked up at the sky, streaked with pink twisted with ribbons of deep blue as the sun began to set over Provident Island, she knew God was up there, along with the people she’d loved so dearly and lost. She’d turned her back on God—and everyone else—but He’d never left her.
She knocked on the door to Gracie and Jake’s carriage house apartment and heard the melodies of warm laughter coming from inside. It felt good to be back.
“Mija!” Gloria’s mother opened the door, practically shouting the Spanish endearment for a daughter. She folded her into a loving hug.
Gloria had received more hugs since the storm than she had in years. She’d forgotten how it felt to give love as easily as one received it.
“Holá, Mamí. Whatever you’re making sure smells good.”
They walked hand in hand toward the kitchen.
“A relief agency opened a temporary food pantry in the parking lot at La Iglesia this morning. They’d brought fresh vegetables, rice, beans and believe it or not...tortillas. So, Papí is making a sauce and is pulling together some enchiladas. I don’t know how he does it, but he always makes something work.”
Gloria thought of Papí’s last conversation she’d been a part of. Could her father make something work between himself and Rigo? She settled back into what had been habit for most of her life, the past few years excepted—she said a quiet prayer and tucked it in her heart.
“Go see Tía Gloria.” As soon as she turned into the living room, Gracie placed Gabriela in Gloria’s arms. “You’ve missed your tía.”
The little baby stuck out her tongue and blinked as she focused on her aunt’s face. Gloria leaned over and drank in the sweet scent of baby shampoo and milk. For the first time in years, the smell of gentle innocence didn’t tug at her heart with memories of what could have been.
She closed her eyes and appreciated her sweet niece for exactly who she was, instead of mourning who she wasn’t.
“Glo? What’s on your mind?” Gracie asked as she pulled a diaper out of a square canvas tote.
Gloria shook her head just a bit. She wanted to keep this new feeling to herself. She felt that if she brought up the past, she’d be pulled into a whirlpool of talking about it all night and that would be a setback to her progress.
She pressed her nose to the top of Gabriela’s downy head. “Just thankful that she smells like a baby.”
Gracie wrinkled her nose. “I thought she smelled like tinkle when I handed her off to you. Diaper change time.”
With confidence, Gracie picked up the little bundle, then laid her atop a blanket at the far end of the couch.
“Okay, well, there’s obviously that. But at least it isn’t raw sewage or mold. Natural baby smells—all of them—are far more my style than what my nose has been forced to handle this week.”
“I’m sure it was awful, Glo.” Gracie tucked the diaper together, then snapped the baby’s onesie together. “I wish you could have come to San Antonio with us.”
“I’m sure San Antonio was far more calm than it was here, but Tanna needed me. I couldn’t have left her.”
“I know you couldn’t have. You’ve never been able to turn your back on anyone who needed you, no matter what.” Gracie sat on the couch and arranged the baby for feeding time. “Which brings us to something else.”
Her sister’s voice trailed off slightly, but Gloria knew that wasn’t the end of it. “What?”
Gracie looked down at the baby, quickly shifted her eyes to Gloria, then adjusted her gaze back to her daughter again. “You know what. Rigo. You haven’t been able to leave him alone, either.”
“Graciela. Just stop right there.” Gloria pushed her shoulders down and back, straightening her spine.
“No, Gloria. Not this time. You’ve always looked out for me. You’ve always acted like big sister knows best. But this is one time your little hermana really needs to have her say.”
Gloria turned her head slightly and looked at her sister’s expression.
It seemed very familiar.
She’d seen it in the mirror on many occasions. The look Gracie was giving her was one hundred percent Gloria.
Gracie barreled ahead, seeming to sense correctly that if she didn’t fill the pause in conversation, Gloria would.
“He’s bad news, Gloria. He’s in the past and you need to leave him there. It’s fine that he was able to help you a few days ago—it was a hurricane, for goodness sakes, take whatever help you can get—but the storm’s over, your patient’s safe and your family is back here. You need to leave Inez’s house and go home.”
“Home? I don’t have a home, Graciela.” She couldn’t keep the bile from rising in her throat and coming through in her voice. She hadn’t realized just how bitter those words tasted. “I don’t have a home or a job. Everything I had is gone.”
“No it’s not. Somos familia. We’re family. Always. You can stay here with us. And you can always work back at Huarache’s.”
Gloria tried to push her hurt aside and be rational, but it was a struggle. “Stay here? With four adults and a baby in an over-the-garage apartment?”
“Hey, it’s clean and dry and not destroyed.” The baby squirmed in Gracie’s lap as the sisters’ voices raised slightly.
“Neither am I, Gracie. I don’t need charity.”
“Family is not charity, Gloria. I don’t understand why you’d rather live at Inez’s instead of here with us, unless you’re really trying to start something up with Rigo again.”
Gloria stood up abruptly. “Start something up? I’m not a high schooler sneaking around behind the bleachers.”
Gracie tried to match her sister’s motion but was moored by the feeding baby in her lap. “Well, the last time you were with this guy, you were a high schooler. He was bad news then and he’s bad news now. Glo, I realize a lot has happened to you, but don’t throw your common sense out the window.”
“What window? Just about every window in this town is blown out.”
“It’s a figure of speech, Gloria.”
Gloria jumped in before Gracie could finish. She barely recognized herself in her actions with her family since they’d come home. First she’d walked off from Papí. Now she was snapping at her sister. She felt a pounding in her veins, like a prizefighter in a ring, waiting for the chance to take a swing.
She knew she should be appalled by how she was acting. She knew she was getting caught up in her emotions.
She also knew that for the first time in a long time, she felt like fighting. She felt like fighting for something that mattered to her.
“I meant that everything’s changed, Gracie. The whole island has changed. So has Rigo. And so have I.”
There was no mistaking the tone in Gloria’s voice. Gracie leaned back against the corner of the couch as the baby mewled and waved an arm in a wobbly circle.
“I just think you’re smarter than this, Gloria,” Gracie said, gruff exasperation riding on the syllables of her whisper.
Gloria looked toward the hallway. The rest of the family was cooking in the kitchen at one end. The front door was at the other. She considered both for a moment, then made her decision.
She knew she was about to hurt some people who loved her dearly. She’d always tried to do right by her family, to help Mamí and Papí at the restaurant, to support Gloria’s school and to be everything she thought a big sister should be, and to never let the people she cared about most worry by knowing how much she’d been hurting the past few years.
Just as clearly as she knew she had never let them down, Gloria also knew she couldn’t live the life she’d known before Hurricane Hope blew through town. She closed her eyes and silently asked God for that strength she’d been pursuing since the storm came and changed everything.
“I’m smart enough to fight for the people I love, Graciela.” Gloria picked up her purse and walked in the direction of the door. “And Rigo is one of them.”
Rigo knew that flash and howl coming from behind him all too well. He’d lost track of how many times he’d been part of a routine traffic stop as a patrol officer. His last traffic stop as a patrol officer was anything but routine, and it cost Felipe Rodriguez his life, Gloria her husband and Rigo his world.
When he first got out of rehab and began to get his life back together, he never even considered asking to become part of the rank-and-file of PPPD again, instead choosing to wait until there was a position open in the Beach Patrol. He wanted to be out with the sun and the waves and the lifeguards and put as much distance as possible between him and routine traffic stops.
As he looked in the rearview mirror and saw Carpenter getting out of the patrol car, the angle of his face washed in alternating streaks of blue and red, Rigo’s stomach sunk. There was no reason to expect gunfire this time, but he was smart enough to know that what happened next could destroy everything he’d been working for just as quickly.
Carpenter would like nothing more than to see Rigo off the island again—that much was clear to everyone at the first responder dinner.
A tap sounded on the glass of the window, and Rigo rolled it down.
“License and registra—Vasquez. I should have known that you’d be behind the wheel of a suspected DUI stop.”
Rigo handed the twin rectangles of driver’s license and insurance card out the window. “I’m not drunk, Carpenter.”
“Well, I’ve been following you since you left O’Boyle’s, and you’ve made several questionable lane changes.” Carpenter put his hands on his hips and spread his legs into a triangle stance.
“I was trying to get around the dump truck hauling all that debris to the temporary landfill so I could get on the causeway, and you know it.”
A soft choking snort, then a lazy snore, came from the passenger seat.
“What was that?” Carpenter leaned inside the window. “Milton’s with you?”
Rigo put his hands on the steering wheel and clenched them, since he wouldn’t be able to answer Carpenter’s questions with a tightly clenched jaw. He needed to direct his tension somewhere. “Pretty sure he’s passed out.”
“I’m going to need you to step out of the car, Vasquez.”
Rigo turned his head so Carpenter wouldn’t hear the words he mumbled under his breath. He faced Carpenter, who was still studying the flopping figure in the other seat of the truck.
“I told you, I’m not drunk. I haven’t had a single drink. I went to O’Boyle’s to pick Milton up. He called me and needed help. His AA sponsor is still evacuated. I’m taking him to a rehab clinic in Houston.”
“You know all about rehab clinics, don’t you Vasquez?”
“Cut it out, Carpenter. I don’t have to answer that.” Just like at the first responder dinner, it wasn’t taking long in Carpenter’s presence to make Rigo’s blood pressure rise almost uncontrollably.
Carpenter tapped the door of the car. “You don’t, but you do have to step out of the car.”
Rigo tugged with deliberate, measured force on the door handle. He knew he didn’t have any choice but to comply. What he didn’t know was how far Carpenter wanted to take this. There was a probationary clause in Rigo’s contract that didn’t expire for another month. He served at the pleasure of the chief of police and the mayor of Port Provident. Any conduct issues would quickly lead to the displeasure of those two.
And then where would he be?
He’d lose his job and more important, his chance with Gloria. They’d made so much progress but it was still fragile. He knew they were on the path to being strong, but for right now, even the merest hint of him being back to his old ways would send Gloria back into her shell.
That much he knew for sure.
And it scared him to the core.
Rigo knew the different faces of fear. They’d been well-acquainted over the years. He’d been full of false bravado when he’d called and left Gloria that message from Mexico. He’d been numb with shock as he watched Felipe fall to the ground after the gunshot. But today, he knew acutely what was at stake, and his awareness wasn’t dulled by drink or swept up in the middle of fight-or-flight instinct.
He stepped out of the vehicle, determined to get through this, get away from Carpenter, get Milton the help he needed. And then get to Gloria and kiss her and do whatever it took to move them from fragile to forever.
Carpenter motioned to the trunk of the car. “Empty your pockets, then put your hands there where I can see them.”
Rigo did as he was told. He laid his cell phone and wallet on the trunk of the car, then laid his hands on the edge, clearly visible.
Carpenter opened the door to the squad car and fiddled with his equipment. “It’s better for both of us if I have this on. You’re a trained cop and I suspect you’re under the influence. I don’t know what you’ll try, but you went to the same academy I did and you know the same holds and tactics I know. This dash cam is best for us both.”
“I told you, I’m not drunk. You want me to say the alphabet backward or walk in a straight line, man?”
“No. I want you to do as you’re told, Chief Vasquez, and quit being belligerent. It’s really not going to look good on the front page of tomorrow’s paper that the brand-new chief of Beach Patrol is driving under the influence and resisting law enforcement.”
Carpenter was crazy, no doubt. But he was right. Any other cop in this town would bend over backward to not put a black eye on a chief of a department if he could avoid doing so. Rigo didn’t necessarily expect special treatment—he just expected fair treatment—but he knew many an incident had been swept under a rug or two in order to keep someone with a chief’s rank from being publicly embarrassed.
But that wasn’t Carpenter’s style. He’d always been a bully and he probably saw this as an opportunity to not only take down Rigo, but to bring himself some glory. He’d applied for the job at Beach Patrol, as well. But Rigo’s strong lifeguarding experience made the difference. He understood all the aspects of the job—law enforcement and water safety. Carpenter didn’t.
Carpenter wasn’t the type of person to care about the details, though.
Rigo did. He cared deeply about the details. Because the details in this awkward situation could make or break everything he’d come back for.
One detail trumped it all. He hadn’t been drinking. By any standard Carpenter chose to measure—field sobriety tests, breath tests or even a blood test—the results would all come back negative.
But if Carpenter dragged this out or word got out to the wrong people in the meantime, something else would come back negative—Rigo’s reputation.
He’d done good work with Beach Patrol since coming back. But his reputation, especially among those cops who hadn’t seen him since he returned and only remembered the night Felipe died and Rigo’s no-show at the funeral, stood on no more firm a foundation than the one that bolstered his fledgling relationship with Gloria.
Rigo had so much to prove, to everyone. He couldn’t let Carpenter take this too far.
As he thought through this very possible worst-case scenario, he could feel the sweat on his palms begin to form a slick barrier between his skin and the paint of the car.
A metallic buzz sounded, loud enough to jerk Rigo’s head up and jolt his thoughts.
“Don’t touch it, Vasquez. Keep your hands on the car.” Carpenter strode purposefully to the trunk and looked down at Rigo’s ringing phone. “Gloria Garcia.” He read the name off the display on the phone with all the resemblance to the Grinch, as he bared his teeth and rolled out his green Grinchy antennae in anticipation of wrecking the celebrations in Whoville.
“You know her last name is Rodriguez, don’t you?” He stared Rigo down and swiped his finger over the glass to connect the call. “Hello?”
“I did not tell you that you could answer that, Carpenter.” Rigo gritted out the words angrily, then raised his voice, hoping he could be heard through the microphone. “Gloria, do not listen to him.”
“Vasquez, you need to shut up unless you want to be in more trouble than you’re already in.” Carpenter fixed a stare on him, one that confirmed every fear that had run through Rigo’s mind earlier. This was personal, and Carpenter was not going to back down until he found a way to ruin Rigo.
Rigo could hear Gloria speaking on the other end but couldn’t make out the words, just the panic in her tone of voice.
“It’s Carpenter, Gloria. I followed Rigo from O’Boyle’s pub, where he and Officer Milton had too much to drink. Officer Milton is passed out in the car, and I’m about to take Vasquez in for further testing.”
Rigo pushed on the side of the car so hard that the vehicle shifted its weight off the back left tire in front of him. “I’m not going to fail the field test, Carpenter. And you can’t answer my phone.”
“I’m sorry, Gloria. I wouldn’t pull someone over without clear evidence. I saw how he was driving. And with Milton passed out, there’s no question in my mind.” He paused. “Yeah, sure. Here.”
“She wants to talk to you.” Carpenter punched the speaker button on the phone. Rigo made a move, but Carpenter’s eyes narrowed to icy slits. “Keep your hands on the car, Chief Vasquez. I’ll hold the phone.”
“Rigo, what is going on?”
“Nothing. Nothing is going on.” He tried to keep his voice calm, in the hopes of soothing some of the panic out of Gloria’s voice.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” Her words were clipped, short and full of gunpowder just waiting to explode.
“Carpenter’s a jerk, Gloria. You said it yourself.”
Carpenter shook his head disapprovingly. Rigo doubted he could dig his hole any deeper with the patrol officer. At least maybe he could get Gloria to understand until he could explain things to her in person.
“Don’t lie to me, Rigo, but if you answer yes to this, don’t ever call me again. You were at a bar?”
Rigo had been wrong earlier when he figured there wouldn’t be shots fired at this traffic stop. Gloria was taking aim.
He wasn’t about to lie to her, that much he could promise. “Yeah, but...”
Carpenter tapped the screen with a fingertip. “Looks like you lost your connection.”
“Why are you doing this, Carpenter? You turned on the dash cam. It’s all there for evidence—the fact that I told you not to answer my phone and that whole conversation.”
He looked down the shoulder of his starched black shirt. “I did turn on the dash cam. But it looks like I forgot to turn on the mic.”
Carpenter gave a half shrug, then narrowed his eyes to steely slits. “Your word against mine, Vasquez.”
Rigo couldn’t fight the chill that came over him. It had nothing to do with the crisp September weather.
Carpenter placed the phone on the trunk, tantalizingly in front of Rigo’s stationary hands. Rigo itched to pick up the phone and call Gloria, despite what she’d said. He needed to finish that sentence. She needed to know the rest of what he had to say.
As hard as it was to do so, Rigo pulled his concentration back to Carpenter. More than anything, he wanted to figure out a way to get to Gloria and make her understand. However, he knew that if he tried anything, Carpenter would make this mess even worse. Even if he got brought in front of the chief of police, he could explain away the suspicion of DUI easily by showing all the passed sobriety test results.
If he tried to make a run for it, to get to Gloria, then he knew Carpenter would find a way to charge him with resisting arrest. And he couldn’t explain that away, certainly not with dash cam footage showing him fleeing down the street toward Inez’s.
“I’m calling for backup to take Milton somewhere to sleep it off,” Carpenter said with all the subtlety of a two-by-four upside the head. “Then I’m testing you.”
“You can’t do that. I can still refuse.”
“Noted. Suspect refuses field testing. I guess you’ve forgotten that since the hurricane, a no-refusal order has been in place.”
Rigo had forgotten. And he felt the press of the trap as it tightened.
“There’s a mobile health clinic next door to headquarters right now. They’re also set up to do blood draws. That’s where we’ve been taking people like you in.”
“People like me?”
Carpenter reached for the metal cuffs at his belt. “Yeah, guys who think the rules don’t apply to them. You know, guys who would let their partner get shot and run off like a scared cat with its tail between its legs because he’s a drunk and too weak to face reality.”
Rigo was scared. Carpenter had that much right. He was scared of what everyone would think when he was paraded in for suspicion of DUI. He was scared of how that would affect his job. Only thirty days left of his probationary period, and this would surely leave a black mark. He’d given his word when he came back that he was sober. He’d signed paperwork to that effect. Sobriety was written in his probationary contract. If he broke that pledge, his employment agreement was voided immediately.
Carpenter couldn’t have known what was in that document. Only the chief of Port Provident PD, the mayor of Port Provident, and the attorneys for the department and the city knew what was in there.
In the end, it didn’t matter if Carpenter knew or he was just poking at Rigo’s weak point.
But as scared as he was for his job, he was a hundred times more scared of what was going through Gloria’s head when the last word she heard out of his mouth was an admittance that he’d been in a bar.
Even though he stood braced against the car, he could feel himself falling. He could feel the insecurity of this moment.
The screen on Rigo’s phone lit up in front of him. Carpenter jerked Rigo’s arms behind him to fasten the handcuffs. Rigo’s eyes, however, were still free to face forward and read the message on his phone.
I trusted when you said you’d changed. Meeting Milton in a bar to go drinking is backward. And I can’t move forward with us in light of that. I meant what I said. Don’t call. I’ll be gone from Inez’s by morning.
Carpenter gave Rigo a shove toward the curb. “Go sit there until my backup comes.”
Rigo lowered himself awkwardly to a seated position, without the use of his hands for balance or bracing. He felt the position was fitting since he’d just been kicked to the proverbial curb by Gloria.
Immediately, his mind wondered why Gloria had so little faith in him, why she’d believe a jerk like Carpenter about anything.
But he knew the truth. He’d been that jerk to Gloria first, all those years ago.
He’d been so close to making amends for his callous ways and winning Gloria back. But all she’d heard from him was words so far. She hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see him back it up with enough actions to drown out the voice of doubt when it came calling. She’d heard him admit with his own voice that he had been in a bar. He didn’t blame her. He could only blame himself.
Not for going to the bar and trying to help Milton.
For going to Mexico and breaking Gloria’s heart and her trust in the first place.
Rigo knew tonight would come to an end. He’d be released because there was no evidence to hold him on. Then, he’d make sure Milton got to the treatment center in Houston. And somehow, he’d find a way to navigate any questions that came his way about his ability to remain chief of Beach Patrol. He lowered his head and prayed silently for protection for his job.
And protection for his heart.
And then when this night was over, he’d have one last thing to do. Even though he knew it wouldn’t make any difference now.
Gloria had stayed barricaded in the room designated as hers at Inez’s all night for nothing. Rigo had never come back to his own guest room at the far end of the hall. If it had been a misunderstanding, he’d have been quickly released.
Since he was gone all night long, she knew the truth. He’d been booked for DUI and held overnight. He’d been out drinking again. And he’d gotten so drunk that he’d gotten caught. So much for that time in rehab and those lessons he’d said he learned.
As the sun took its position in the morning sky, Gloria took the stairs in Inez’s house slowly, awkwardly carrying her few worldly possessions in the tiny suitcase she’d brought with her as Hurricane Hope bore down on the island. She felt a bit like a hobo, jumping from place to place without permanence. But it was time to start moving forward.
Without Rigo.
And that meant moving out from under his aunt’s roof and away from the memories she’d formed in this place in just a few short days. Baby Mateo’s birth, the howl of Hope and Rigo’s rescue of them all. The makeshift restaurant on the widow’s walk. That tender kiss that took away the years and the yearning.
Like everything else in Port Provident, they were all water under the bridge.
She would leave here and ask her sister’s forgiveness for the way she’d acted last night. Hopefully Gracie and Jake would still have a couch for her to sleep on until the numerous government agencies and insurance companies flocking to the area could sort out temporary housing arrangements for Port Provident residents. Hopefully, soon she could get a hotel room or a trailer or something to call her own for a while.
But first, she had to find Inez and say goodbye.
Gloria placed her plain brown box at the bottom of the stairs and followed the scent of rice into the kitchen. Inez stood behind an ancient two-burner camp stove. Gloria recognized it as the one she’d used at Rigo’s rooftop restaurant.
“He’s not here, querida.” Inez stirred something in a battered aluminum saucepan.
“I know he’s not.” A lump settled in her throat. She’d known Inez for years, had respected her as a matriarch of the neighborhood and a pillar of the church community. But now, after a bond forged by wind and waves, Gloria realized she loved the petite lady like her own abuela.
She’d said so many goodbyes in her life. Experience didn’t make them easier.
“I’m going to stay at Gracie’s. Will you be okay here by yourself, Tía?”
As she said that, a little fear gripped Gloria’s heart. She couldn’t leave this woman here by herself in a city turned upside down.
“Well, they’re starting the work on the downstairs tomorrow. My grandson Raul knew some contractors in Houston and he was able to get them to come help quickly. I’ll probably go stay with Raul’s family while the work is being done. I’m glad your sister is back and that you have somewhere safe to go.”
Gloria noted the older woman’s omission. “What about Rigo?”
Inez turned off one of the burners, the blue flame shrinking lower and lower until it extinguished.
The slow diffusion reminded Gloria of her heart.
“When I told him about the crew coming, he said not to worry about him. He had some other plans.”
Gloria nodded with irony. She couldn’t believe Rigo had warned Inez he wasn’t coming back. It felt worse knowing he’d planned to go out on some epic bender with Milton. Regardless of all his sweet-sounding promises, he’d gone back to his old ways, and once again, he hadn’t cared about the effect on Gloria. And she was a fool for ever believing it could have been otherwise.
Gloria rolled her lower lip in slightly and bit down. Her top row of teeth felt sharp as they pressed against the flesh. At least she could still feel. Too bad all she was aware of was hurt.
“So he didn’t call you last night?”
Inez shook her head, light wisps of gray hair swaying beside her temples. “Call me? No. He kind of rushed out of here yesterday afternoon and said he had some unfinished business to take care of. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, threw one of his tío Arturo’s army-issued duffel bags over his shoulder and literally ran out the front door.”
Gloria wanted to run, too. She wanted to run from all the “I told you so” admonishments she knew she deserved.
Her father’s dismissal of Rigo boomed inside her head, rattling off the curves of her skull and echoing over and over again. This coward...
And then she heard Gracie’s words from last night. I just think you’re smarter than this...
Steven McLellan had warned her at the dinner. Even Carpenter had read the situation better than she had—and he’d been proven correct, right in front of his face.
So much for the intuition she’d always prided herself on. Everyone knew she’d been playing with fire. Except her.
Her emotions had been asbestos for so long that she didn’t listen.
As usual, Gloria thought she knew best.
A Bible verse she hadn’t thought of in years flooded into her mind. Pride goes before the fall.
She’d fallen for Rigo again. Then she’d fallen mightily.
And this time, she knew the scars would never heal.
The lack of sleep started to take a toll on Rigo. Last night had been one of the longest nights of his life, and on top of it all, he’d finally dropped off Milton at the treatment center early this morning and then gone to run his one precious errand while in Houston. He’d been let go as soon as the test results came back from the portable lab next to headquarters and the chief of police had personally assured him everything was just a misunderstanding and he’d see to it that it was kept from the media and city hall. Rigo had been running on stress and adrenaline and the crushing dread of a future without Gloria, the soul-searing dread that another hurricane had blown in his way and in one misunderstood instant, wrecked everything he’d built. All he wanted right now was a breakfast taco, a cup of coffee and a pair of toothpicks to prop his eyelids open. But he had a few more things to cross off his list before he could think about rest.
And he knew he’d never settle his nerves until he followed through on a plan he’d made a few days ago. Even though Gloria didn’t want him in her life, and even though he’d decided sitting on that curb to respect the wishes she’d conveyed in that text, he still had one thing to do. He wasn’t going to try and offer explanations, because although he knew he’d never drink again, he knew he’d disappoint her again—that was just part of life—and he couldn’t bear to put her through that anymore, no matter how small it might be.
He’d just check this box—one that he’d been so excited about just a little over forty-eight hours ago—and move on. And then he’d let Gloria do the same.
The back door to Huarache’s stood slightly ajar, propped open by a metal chair with red vinyl-covered padding.
Rigo had faced swirling surf to save drowning swimmers. He’d heard the loud volley of shots fired around him by a criminal determined to make a point. He was no stranger to stressful situations with questionable outcomes.
But nothing he’d ever walked into up to this point had made his throat go dry and his hands and feet tingle with a flood of adrenaline like preparing to face Carlos Garcia did.
Rigo poked his head around the edge of the door, feeling like an officer looking for a suspect. He saw his target right away, swinging at sodden drywall with a sledgehammer.
“Can I help you with that, sir?”
The heavy metal head of the sledgehammer dug into the wall and stuck as Carlos turned around.
Rigo felt like there was a similar lead mass in his throat as he waited for Gloria’s father to acknowledge him.
“You want to help me destroy my life’s work? That’s fitting, since you’ve already destroyed my daughter.” Carlos wiped sweat off his brow with a swipe of his forearm. “What are you doing here, Rodrigo? You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I know I’m not welcome, Carlos, but—”
The older man cut him off. “No, you’re not. But—”
This time, it was Rigo’s turn to jump in. They were both determined not to give much ground. “But what?”
“Gloria said you got arrested.” He unscrewed the lid off a bottle of water and took a drink. “So what are you doing here? Did you forget something? Like telling my daughter you’re drinking again?”
Rigo dropped the duffel bag on the ground. “I didn’t get arrested, sir. I got pulled over and tested, but there was no alcohol in my blood. I assure you, sir, I haven’t fallen off the wagon. I picked up my friend who needed help and was taking him to Houston for treatment. I told Gloria I wasn’t the person I used to be, and I meant it.”
“That’s not what you said on the phone.”
“I got cut off. She didn’t get to hear the whole story. But I’m not here to make excuses.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Carlos snapped at Rigo as light pushed across the kitchen and someone else walked through the back door.
“Rigo.” Gloria’s voice hit him with the force of a slap. “What are you doing here?”
A couple of other voices chattered, then fell silent, and Rigo knew Gracie and her mother followed right behind Gloria.
He stood between two groups of angry Garcias—a completely different type of sandwich than the Huarache’s kitchen typically produced.
“Gloria.” His voice caught in his throat at the sight of her, the woman he’d loved his whole life. He wanted to close the space between them, take her hand and reassure her that everything would be okay.
But he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t cause her any more emotional turmoil.
“If you’re coming to tell me there’s been a misunderstanding, you’re right. It’s been mine. I shouldn’t have believed a word you said.” Her jaw quivered slightly as she stopped speaking. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
“Gloria, I wasn’t drinking. Carpenter cut off the phone call. He had the opportunity to mess with me and he took it. If you want to see the test results, I will get them for you. I have not lied to you since the moment you called me at Tanna’s apartment.”
Her brown eyes darkened, then broke the line of sight between them. The golden sparkle had fluttered out of her irises like glitter dropping to the floor. Years ago, he’d left her to deal with all these same emotions while he rode waves into oblivion off the coast of Mexico.
Rigo was not leaving her to deal with these emotions again.
Mainly because he wasn’t leaving. Ever.
And somehow, he would make her understand that one simple truth. He told himself he wasn’t going to explain. But his heart wouldn’t let him do otherwise. He knew that somehow, somewhere, he could find the strength to walk away. But he couldn’t leave letting Gloria think he hadn’t meant every word he’d said to her since she called him out on patrol before the landfall of Hope.
“Gloria, if I’d started back to drinking, I’d be at a bar again after all this mess. I wouldn’t be here in the Huarache’s kitchen.” Rigo gestured behind him. “If I was going to lie to you, I wouldn’t be within a mile of your father and a sledgehammer.”
The left corner of Gloria’s mouth twisted upward into the faintest beginning of a smile. She raised her head and looked at Rigo at an angle from beneath her lashes. He could see her hesitation as she struggled to trust him.
And then it hit him with the weight of the sledgehammer still propped in Carlos’s hands. Rigo had resolved to walk away so he couldn’t hurt her again. But that made him the liar he didn’t want to be since those actions wouldn’t line up with the promise that he’d never walk away again, no matter what.
Please, God, make me worthy of her. Make me a man who keeps his promises, a man she can trust. And open her eyes to see that.
With two steps, he covered the distance between them, hoping his touch could speak the truth more clearly than his words. He took her left hand in between both of his. He pressed the cool, slim fingers between his palms. He felt a faint pulse as he held on and wondered if it belonged to him or to her.
“The hardest thing I’ve ever done was come back. I came back after Mexico. I finally came back after rehab. And I’ve come back today, after you had every reason to believe the worst of me one more time. Every time I’ve come back, it’s been tougher than the time before. This is the toughest of them all. But I came back for you, Gloria. I got Milton to rehab. He has to learn how to rebuild his life. I’m going to rebuild mine. But I can’t without you.”
She laid her right hand gently atop his. “So why did you come here to the restaurant?”
“To apologize.” Rigo gave Gloria’s hand a gentle squeeze, then let go. “And to bring this.”
He turned to the duffel bag on the ground, knelt, then unzipped it. “I remember this from when we were kids, and I remember you’d said it meant a lot to your parents.”
He pulled out a small black frame, then handed it to Carlos.
“It’s the first dollar you ever made in America. I knew you kept it on the counter at the cash register. On my first patrol after the hurricane, I came in here to check the damage and I saw it. There was water inside the frame and the whole thing was soaked. The sister of a friend of mine owns a print shop up in Sugar Land. He took it to her and I picked it up last night after I got Milton settled. They were able to dry it out and fix it up and put it in an archival frame for you.”
Carlos stared at the small rectangular frame and turned it over in his hands, then back again.
“I noticed it was missing. But so much was ruined, I thought we’d never see it again.”
Rigo nodded. “I figured as much. I didn’t really have a chance to tell you when we met in the parking lot the other day.”
“No, I guess you didn’t.” Carlos’s expression softened as he looked at the restored and protected symbol of his fresh start in America so many years ago.
“I know that’s just a dollar bill, but I also know what it means to you. And I promise you, sir, that I know how much more your daughter means.”
Carlos swallowed and nodded but remained uncharacteristically silent.
“All I’m asking for is the chance to prove that to you and to Juanita. And Gracie.”
Rigo turned around and looked at the women in the doorway, then directly at Gloria. “And to you, too, mí amor.”
He hoped calling her “my love” hadn’t been too forward. Gloria opened her mouth to speak, but before she could collect her thoughts, Rigo decided he needed to finish what was on his heart, so he continued.
“You are, you know. The love of my life. Past, present and future.” He bent back toward the duffel bag. “I have something for you, too.”
He pulled out a small rectangular book. The front cover was a shiny silver, decorated with an engraved pattern of baby blocks and a teddy bear. The spine and back were wrapped in black velvet.
Rigo reached out and placed the book in Gloria’s hands.
“Sophia couldn’t save them all, but she scanned them into her computer and used Photoshop to bring them back as much as she could.”
A tear rolled over the curve of Gloria’s cheek, then another and another, clearing a track through the small amount of makeup she was wearing. She turned the pages wordlessly, studying the images as though for the first time.
“My pictures of Mateo. I thought they were ruined.” Gloria’s soft whisper was barely audible in the silent room.
Rigo saw matching tear tracks running down the faces of the aunt and the grandmother who had never gotten to know Mateo, either.
“I had to try. I didn’t want the hurricane to take away everything you had left of your son.”
Gloria held out one arm. Rigo walked into her embrace, like a surfer sliding into shore. He felt the brush of velvet against his neck as Gloria wrapped her other arm around him, still holding the book of her memories.
“I love it.”
“I love you.” Nothing but total honesty would do at a moment like this.
She stretched up on her toes and met Rigo’s mouth with her own. He tried his best to focus on the kiss. He wanted to remember everything about this moment—the fresh relief of forgiveness, the sight of her, the smell of the air around them, the taste of the salt still wet on her lips.
Rigo pulled back just enough to ask her the question he needed to know. “Tell me we can rebuild together. Forever, this time.”
He brushed a humidity-curled lock of caramel-colored hair from Gloria’s forehead and gently tucked it behind the curve of her ear as he waited for her reply.
Gloria looked at the little book, at her family, and then at Rigo. Her eyes glowed and her smile was as fresh as it had been when they were eighteen and had the whole world at their feet.
“Yes. Together.”
––––––––
