“Hey! Jessie! Let us throw you a pass!”
Jessie Medina, the new development director for St. Joseph High School, had just walked outside of the main building. She turned in the direction of the call and spotted the Cantú twins, who lived next door to her mother, tossing a football between them in the grassy quadrangle between the school buildings and the brothers’ residence.
“Come on, Jessie. Just one!” Eli Cantú yelled.
Never one to pass up a little fun, she moved onto the lawn, and raised her arms. “Okay. Throw it!”
Having grown up with three brothers, Jessie knew she could catch a football, but she underestimated Eli’s skill as he threw the ball in a high arch. She had to move backwards over the grass in quick, crunchy steps. Finally, she jumped up, barely reaching the faded leather ball. Her fingers rounded the tip, then clamped down tightly. As the momentum drove her towards the ground, she anticipated the sharp, dry grass cushioning her fall. Instead, she landed between a pair of long arms. Her head knocked against a hard chest as someone solid and strong intercepted Jessie and the football.
Jessie gasped, then struggled to free herself, but just like straw Chinese handcuffs, the more she pulled, the tighter the trap became. Finally, she pushed her feet to the ground and stood upright to meet her captor.
She saw a shallow dimple splitting a firm chin at the base of a square jawline. Tanned cheeks shadowed by a day’s beard led her to the ebony eyes gleaming under thick, slightly tilted, black eyebrows. Something about his stare unsettled her, made her tremble. She clung to the football as if to protect herself from him.
“Hey! Jessie! Give us a pass!” one of the boys yelled.
One black eyebrow lifted. “Should I make a pass, too?”
Jessie gulped out a definite “no” before she pushed out of his arms.
“Come on! Jessie! Throw the ball!”
She stepped back, turning her attention towards the Cantú twins waiting near the flagpoles.
A large hand clamped down on her arm before she could throw. “Jessie? You’re Jesse Medina?”
His masculine grip set off an internal alarm. She hadn’t immediately recognized him, but suddenly she understood why there was such disbelief in his deep voice.
“I got a call to see Jesse Medina. I figured it was Mike Medina’s little brother. I wasn’t expecting a woman named Jessie.” His eyes scrutinized her thoroughly, and she feared he had just stolen her chance to make her best first impression.
Jessie wore her dark brown hair pulled back into a loose braid, and knew it must look like a tangled rope. Perspiration must have certainly washed away her make-up, and her brother’s old football jersey was streaked with dust and dirt from cleaning the office of a pack rat. She probably looked more like a silly tomboy than a professional director of school development.
Jessie tugged herself free, and tried not to let his persistent stare affect her throw. She took a quick slide forward before cocking her arm back and releasing the ball.
Eli Cantú ran forward and easily caught her throw.
“Nice pass, Jessie.”
Jessie detected the sarcasm in the voice behind her. Ignoring him, she called out, “Thanks for the exercise, Eli! Later!”
She wiped her hands on her red jeans and turned back to the man packing two strong hands onto his lean hips. She couldn’t help but notice everything about him. He wore his grease-stained denim work shirt proudly, unlike Jessie, who was embarrassed to look like a cleaning woman. Her cheeks grew hot as she realized the president of St. Joseph’s Alumni Association had caught her at her worst, not to mention, smack between his arms.
Jessie hid her discomfort behind a show of irritation. “Roland Tovías, right? You’re late! I’ve been waiting since yesterday for you! Didn’t you get my messages?”
“I got your message. I was busy.” His stance widened as his gaze narrowed upon her.
Her worst fears about this initial meeting didn’t come close to the reality. The timing was bad, and the first impression worse, but she needed to salvage the opportunity to talk to Roland Tovías. Since she wanted—no, needed—his support in her job, she forced herself to smile.
“Now that you’re here, could we talk in my office?” She gestured towards the main school building, a two-story limestone structure with narrow casement windows.
He shrugged. “Might as well.”
As they walked together, Jessie tried to remember Roland. She was in eighth grade when he had kicked the crucial extra point over the goal posts at the Homecoming game, earning his nickname, Pointer. Although her brother Gilbert graduated the same year, Jessie had never met him until today. She knew he owned and operated a garage not far from the school, and he had taken over the alumni presidency last year.
“So—are you Mike Medina’s sister or what?” Roland’s question broke into her thoughts.
Jessie stopped at the door of the building. She slid her keys from her jeans’ back pocket. “I’m not related to a Mike Medina.” She guessed Roland’s confusion evolved from the different Medina families who attended the school through the years. She put the key into the lock and turned it, pulling the aluminum door towards them.
Roland caught the door, opening it wider. He stood there politely, nodding for her to enter first.
Her eyes widened, caught off guard by the courtesy of his gentleman’s manners, but as she entered the building, she reminded herself she was at St. Joe’s now. A woman would be treated with special regard whether she wanted it or not.
“You’re really the new development director? I can’t believe they chose you.” His tone of disappointment seemed to be amplified in the empty school building.
Jessie sighed. She knew putting herself in this environment would only add to the challenges of her new job, but she was determined to prove her skills and talents went beyond gender. “I’m very qualified, Roland. I spent the last three years as assistant community relations director for Texan Cola. If we want St. Joe’s to survive, this school needs a person who can get community support.”
“And you’re the person who can do that?”
“Yes, I believe I can.”
Roland raked his fingers through his straight, black hair. “I’m sorry, Jessie, but something just doesn’t feel right.”
“Are you upset because a woman was hired as a development director for an all-boys school?” She asked him, her voice tense with self-control. Even if she didn’t walk the halls as a student, St. Joe’s was a place filled with good memories for her.
“I guess I’m just disappointed.” His square shoulders inclined in a shrug. “No one wants to think of a St. Joe’s event without Brother William Daniels taking charge. He’s been here forever, you know? To me, Brother William is St. Joe’s.”
His honesty allowed a glimpse into another side of him, touching Jessie’s spirit with the depth of emotion he revealed. Despite their unsteady beginning, she found herself optimistic about their working together.
“Why do you look so familiar?” he asked her.
The question made her step back. “Familiar?”
He studied Jessie, his gaze gentle and curious. “Yeah, like I’ve met you before or something. Have I?”
“I attended a lot of school functions through the years.” Jessie brushed aside his question with a wave of her hand. “Let’s go into my office.”
Jessie flipped the light switch and meandered around boxes. “Watch where you walk.” She grabbed stacks of old school newspapers from a wooden chair and looked around for a place to toss them. One spot on the worn brown carpet was as cluttered as another. She finally dropped them on the floor behind her rolltop desk, an antique wooden secretary pushed against one paneled wall. “I don’t think Brother William ever threw away a thing in his life!”
She noticed Roland’s eyes glide over the golden-brown walls with darker squares where pictures once hung. He suddenly looked over his shoulder, as if he remembered something he lost by the door. He walked towards the windows, and bent down one dusty venetian blind to peek outside. “This room sure looks different.”
“Once Brother William removed his personal items, I started throwing out the trash.” She laughed. “Lots of trash.”
She noticed he paused to thumb through a stack of old black-and-white photographs resting on a nearby file cabinet.
“They say someone’s trash is someone else’s treasure,” he said.
It was an old cliché; nevertheless, she was glad to see he appreciated the value of the old pictures. “I know the difference between trash and treasure, Roland. Those pictures should be kept some place where they can be preserved for the next generation.”
“Rumor has it, St. Joe’s won’t be around for the next generation.” Roland spoke as if he was thinking out loud. His fist landed in the middle of the pictures, then he walked around the desk.
Jessie swiveled in her chair, following his movements. “Is this the regret of the entire alumni or just its president?”
“My opinion isn’t important. Saving the school is the issue.” He moved to sit down in a stiff wooden chair beside her desk. He glanced down when it creaked loudly under him. “I just want to keep St. Joe’s from closing down.”
“We share the same goals, Roland.” Jessie leaned her elbow on the desktop, ready to explain her ideas. “Now, I’ve outlined a plan for a major fundraising event for the school. I understand there’s an alumni meeting Thursday night, and I’d like to discuss the agenda with you. I want some time to talk to the group.”
“Sorry!” Roland grinned as he relaxed into the chair. “If a woman like you came to one of the alumni meetings, none of the men would pay attention to me.”
“I doubt that.” If he meant to compliment her, she didn’t like it. “Right now the Alumni Association seems more like a good excuse to get together, drink beer, and relive the glory days.”
“How would you know what an alumni meeting is all about?”
Jessie’s eyebrows raised. “I have three brothers who go to meetings, and two sisters-in-laws who tell me they’re very happy when they get home.”
“Are you calling us a bunch of drunks? We wouldn’t bother to get together if we didn’t care about the school.” His eyes narrowed. “And you can’t believe everything your sister-in-law says. I know! I have one!”
Jessie sighed. This conversation had taken a dangerous curve. She tried to get back on track. “Listen, Roland, in order for me to do my job right, I need the alumni’s help.”
“Jessie, if you need us to work at a fundraiser, that’s not a problem.” He shrugged. “We’ve worked at school festivals and church bingos all our lives.”
“You don’t understand,” she told Roland, her voice raising slightly. “I’m talking about keeping the school open, not raising a hundred dollars. In order for me to raise big money for the school, the alumni group has to become a visible army for St. Joe’s.”
“I agree with you.” He folded his arms across the blue work shirt. “So what are your plans? I assume you have a fundraiser in mind.”
“Yes, I do. I’d like to stage a concert to benefit St. Joe’s.” She gave him a confident smile.
“A concert?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You ever put on a concert together before?”
“Texan Cola co-sponsored three while I worked for them. I know what it takes. I just need to get the right man to draw the crowds.” She picked up her pencil and twirled it.
“And when would you have this concert?”
Jessie braced herself for his reaction. “Memorial Day weekend.”
“What?” Roland’s eyes widened. “Memorial Day weekend? That’s barely two months away.”
“Roland, St. Joe’s needs money now—”
“And besides—we already have a fundraiser for that weekend.”
“That old softball tournament?”
“That old softball tournament is a good tradition,” Roland answered. “It brings a lot of the alumni back to San Antonio for a yearly reunion. You can’t cancel it for a concert.”
“Roland, I’ve studied the profits on the last four tournaments. It’s a drop in the bucket compared to what a concert could make. The alumni need to look beyond themselves, and give something back to the school.”
His handsome face hardened into an angry scowl. “I really resent your attititude. You keep insinuating the alumni do nothing for the school.”
“Well, I haven’t seen any notes about any alumni donations.” She lifted a stack of papers for emphasis, then gave him a look that challenged him to refute the facts.
Roland waved the papers aside. “Some donations aren’t in a checkbook balance, Jessie.”
“Well, they should be! Playing softball isn’t going to keep St. Joe’s open. And if the school closes next year, where will the alumni hold their precious tournament? At St. Michael’s?”
Roland’s eyes shot off enough sparks to start a fire. His jaw tightened; she could almost hear his teeth grinding together.
She knew she had made a direct hit when she mentioned St. Michael’s because the rivalry between the schools was wedged deep into the heart of every St. Joe’s graduate.
“I just don’t think you understand the magnitude of the situation, Roland.”
“I understand it better than you think, Jessie. I have some personal reasons for keeping the school open. What would someone like you really know about St. Joe’s?”
Jessie’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you talking about those qualities that make this school special? Traditions like the Los Hermanos Program? The Homecoming Picnic? The retreats at Casa San José? I know as much about St. Joe’s as my own high school. My three brothers went to this school. And I—” She stopped and swallowed, then raised her chin proudly. “I was a cheerleader at St. Joe’s for three years.”
Roland’s eyes rolled. “A cheerleader? What are you going to do at the alumni meeting? Hold a pep rally?”
“A little school spirit always helps! Maybe it’s time someone reminded the alumni that this school is worth fighting for!” She was exasperated at Roland’s tone, but he only made her more determined to earn his respect. She wanted to make him realize he didn’t have the monopoly on personal causes. She had her own reasons for succeeding at St. Joe’s.
A loud double rap on the door interrupted the tense moment between them.
A thin hand, the color of sandpaper, gripped the door. A long pale face peeked around. “Anybody home?” Small blue-gray eyes darted from Jessie to Roland.
Jessie raised a smile for Brother William Daniels as he pushed open the door. “Come in and join us, Brother William. Roland finally arrived for yesterday’s meeting.”
The gaunt man entered the office. His white shirt and black slacks hung on his skinny frame. Yellow teeth appeared when he grinned. “Hey, Pointer! Does the bus work now?” He extended his arms to Roland and they embraced.
Witnessing un abrazo between the men softened Jessie’s feelings. It was hard to stay angry at any man who cared that much about Brother William. Actually, the warmth of familia among the faculty, students, and alumni was one reason she took the job. After working with San Antonio’s biggest beverage distributor, a place filled with so many strangers, a job at this small boys’ school felt like coming home.
Jessie saw Roland smile and hold Brother William at arm’s length. “I tied a few rubber bands into place, Brother. The bus should hold together a few months.”
Brother William grunted, his eyes twinkling. “We just need the bus to hold together until Jessie can get us a new one.” With his hand still clasping Roland’s arm, he addressed her. “Pointer’s great about fixing the bus for us. Don’t know how we’d get the teams to the games if it weren’t for Tovías Mechanics.”
“I do what I can, Brother.” Roland shot a look at Jessie. “Did Eddie’s company finish roofing the cafeteria?”
“About a week ago. And Hamp Randle brought in his plumber to take care of the sewer problem in the gym.” His long finger tapped his pointed chin. “You know, we ought to publicize the way you guys work around here and don’t charge a penny.”
“We do it to help the school.” Once again, the black gaze touched Jessie.
As embarrassment heated her face, she wondered if her cheeks were as red as her jeans. Now she understood why Roland had been so defensive. The alumni were working for the school. Now she needed to get them to work with her, too.
Brother William clapped Roland on the shoulder. “I told you, Jessie! There are a lot of good men out there, just waiting for you to lead them. Right, Pointer?”
Jessie looked down at her dirty leather sneakers. Did sweet Brother William know how uncomfortable his words made her feel?
Roland cleared his throat. “Sure, Brother. Uh—I drove the bus over myself. Can I get a lift back to the garage?”
“Jessie, would you mind?” Brother William shuffled towards the door. “You and Roland can talk about Thursday’s meeting while you take him back. You know where the garage is, right?”
“I’ll take care of things, Brother.” Jessie nodded, looking at Brother William rather than Roland. The short drive might give her more time to discuss her plans. Hopefully, Brother William’s appearance had softened Roland’s feelings about her role in the school.
“Give my best to your mother, Roland. Jessie, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Roland voiced a goodbye, as she closed the door behind Brother William. Turning around, she pressed her back against the cool wood. She looked up, and tried to make a better start with him. “I was mistaken about the alumni’s involvement. I believe I owe you an apology.”
“No, just a ride back to the garage.” His lip curved with a grin that charmed her. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he asked, “How do you plan to get a new school bus?”
Relieved their conversation was taking a less argumentative tone, Jessie headed for the file cabinet. She opened the top drawer and lifted out her black purse. “There are several foundations that will give money for a bus. I’m working on a grant proposal right now. It’s part of my job as development director.”
“St. Joe’s needs a bus, Jessie. Badly. I spent the past two days going through junkyards for spare parts. I’m a mechanic, not a miracle worker.”
“I’ll see what I can do!” Jessie slung her purse over her shoulder as she faced him. “Shall we go?” She led the way out of her office, and he followed her.
“Do you like foreign cars?” Roland asked as they neared the only car left in the front parking lot. “Must cost you a bundle when it breaks down.”
Jessie unlocked the passenger door of her shiny maroon car, the first one she had bought all on her own. “My car doesn’t break down. It’s not even a year old.” She walked around to get into the driver’s side.
Slowly, she drove her car out of the lot and into the street.
As Jessie saw Roland adjusting the bucket seat to give his long legs more room, she spoke casually, “Roland, I’ll be glad to give you a detailed outline of my concert idea.”
“Good. Give me an outline, and I’ll present your idea to the group.” Roland settled into the leather seat. “This car is more comfortable than it looks.”
Jessie didn’t let him change the subject. “Roland, I want to come to the meeting and explain my work in my own way.”
“I remember. Pom-poms and cartwheels, right?”
Jessie’s fist thumped the steering wheel, but she refused to let her irritation gain control.
She slowed the car for a red light, and Roland slid his arm across her seat. “If you want to know the truth, Jessie, the alumni meetings are a stag event. It’s a boys’ school, and the majority of the teachers are male. The guys would be—” He paused. “—uncomfortable, if a good-looking woman appeared and began discussing fundraising for St. Joe’s.”
“The guys will have to get used to dealing with me sooner or later. We don’t have time to waste.”
The light turned green, and Jessie drove on, wishing he’d keep his drumming fingers off her seat. She forced herself to concentrate on the professional aspects of their relationship despite his physical presence dominating the confines of her small car.
“A lot of the alumni think some guy named Jesse Medina got Brother William’s old job,” Roland was saying. “You just can’t waltz in there unannounced. Let me tell them about you at this meeting, and you can come to the next one, okay?”
Jessie refused to be treated like a child asked to wait her turn. “I care about the school, Roland, and I want the alumni to help me keep it open. Whether I’m male or female isn’t important.”
She stopped talking as she manuevered her car into the crowded driveway of Tovías Mechanics. Two rectangular metal buildings faced the busy street, their wide barn-like doors slid back to reveal eight to ten cars parked inside, half of them up on racks. Another dozen cars waited in the open lots in front. Judging from the number of cars waiting to be serviced, Roland was a very busy man. She should have respected the fact that his responsibilities were just as important as hers.
“Jessie, let me contact the rest of the officers, and I’ll get back to you,” Roland said, then lifted the lever on the door to swing it open. “Thanks for the ride.”
Jessie’s hand flew to his bronze forearm to hold him back. “We’re not finished discussing everything yet, Roland.”
Her heart skittered at the coolness of his skin, and the dark hairs under her fingertips. His eyes registered surprise at the contact. As if he were a hot match, she let him go.
Roland’s devilish smile rattled her even more.
“Well, Miss Jessie, now that I’m through scrounging around for bus parts, I can do a little alumni work. I’ll call the guys, mention you, and we’ll go from there. I’ll get back to you. Soon.” He swung himself out of the car quickly before she could stop him. He pressed down the lock. “Drive carefully.”
Then he firmly shut the door.
Jessie nodded as he waved and walked inside the metal building. His gallant concern for her safety underscored his traditional view of male and female roles. She knew she’d have to broaden Roland’s perspective about her job, first, and then decide what to do about the man himself.
As Roland Tovías parked his car in the driveway underneath his garage apartment, he owned up to the fact that one of his biggest faults was that he didn’t accept sudden changes well. Oh, eventually, he accepted them, but usually he wanted a guarantee of some kind. In the past year, though, some changes were not in his power to control, and that bothered him even more. He thought he had come to terms with the unexpected until he held the lovely Jessie Medina and that old football in his arms this afternoon. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
As Roland got out of his car, he smelled the aroma of cooking meat. He took it as a hopeful sign his mother would be home tonight. As he opened the screen door to his mother’s house, though, he almost crashed into her as she rushed out.
“Hello, Mom!” He caught the door before it slammed.
Consuelo Tovías stopped on the wooden porch as her slim hands tightened one of her silver earrings. “Rolando, I’ll be home about ten-thirty. We’re meeting at San Jose Mission tonight.”
Roland frowned. “Let me drive you and pick you up, then. That’s on the other side of town, Mom.”
“Delia’s picking me up. Did I tell you the mayor will be there tonight?” She straightened her cotton Mexican dress, a bright turquoise material decorated with embroidered white flowers. “Now, P.O.N.S. can get some answers!”
A faded red station wagon rumbled up the driveway, and a horn honked loudly. The woman inside gestured as if she was in a hurry.
“Tell Delia to bring her car to the garage so I can check her muffler,” Roland said, kissing his mother’s soft brown cheek. “Be careful, Mom.” He watched her hurry down the back steps, and waved as she and Delia left.
He sighed tiredly as he entered the large kitchen with its high ceiling and big open windows. He saw a frying pan on the copper-colored stove with a juicy hamburger patty sizzling on it and a small pot with simmering greens. He recognized the simple meal as Bobby’s cooking.
Roland washed his hands as his little brother appeared.
“Hey, Rolo!” Bobby said. He was like an overgrown puppy, long and gawky, with large brown eyes. The boy jogged to the stove and turned off the burner. His next target was the refrigerator.
Roland watched his little brother stand in the cool wedge of the open door, and untwist the cap on the gallon jug of milk. As Bobby raised the milk jug to his lips, Roland cleared his throat loudly. “Do you mind? Mom and I drink milk, too, you know.”
Bobby grimaced, then kicked the refrigerator door shut. “Get me a glass, will you, Rolo?”
Roland took two glasses out of the drain board behind him as Bobby served up his meal, and sat down at the table.
Sitting down beside him, Roland poured them each a glass of milk. “How was practice?”
“Ugh! Too many sprints. I’m heading over to Mark’s later and soak in the hot tub.” Hungrily, he began to eat in fast, large bites. “I don’t got much homework tonight.”
“I was at St. Joe’s today.”
“Yeah, I saw the bus. We were afraid we’d have to go to the track meet in Mrs. Rodríguez’s van. She always makes us listen to her country-western tapes. Sheesh!” He forked a last piece of the hamburger patty and plopped it into his mouth.
Roland smiled indulgently. Listening to Bobby’s Bleeding Centipedes tapes couldn’t be any worse for Mrs. Rodríguez.
Bobby swallowed, then spoke. “So did you meet Jessie Medina?”
Roland took a sip from his glass, then leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, I did. Why didn’t you tell me Jessie was a woman?”
“You didn’t ask me.” Bobby laughed, then reached for his milk. “She’s got great legs, don’t you think?”
Roland raised an eyebrow. “How would you know about her legs, Bobby?”
“Yesterday, she was dressed in a tight black skirt. She came down the hall just as third period let out. She’s great-looking both coming and going, don’t you think?”
Roland handled his glass. Actually, he never got past the golden skin sprinkled with freckles, and those large brown eyes which darkened with her every emotion. His body reacted unexpectedly as he remembered holding her. Then he realized he was behaving like Bobby, whose hormones were getting more active everyday.
More changes Roland couldn’t control.
Like his mother going to all these P.O.N.S. meetings and leaving Bobby alone on evenings and week-ends. When Roland and his brother, Raymond, were Bobby’s age, they could depend on their mother to be their cook. She was home at night, usually supervising homework and talking to their father about his day as she served his dinner.
Seven months ago, after the sudden death of his father, Roland had moved into the apartment above his parents’ garage. From the beginning, he was surprised by his mother’s new lifestyle. If the People Organizing for Neighborhood Support weren’t chasing councilmen, they were camped in the dining room planning their next course of action. P.O.N.S. kept their mother very busy and Roland couldn’t understand her choices. He was raised by his parents to value traditions and keep them sacred.
Familia. Roland believed there was no stronger tie than family. The obligation to his family prompted his decision to move home just so he could be available for his mother and little brother’s needs. Only he didn’t know how to recapture what had been so comfortable and safe.
The clatter of a fork on an empty plate signaled that Bobby had finished his supper. As Roland watched Bobby wash his plate and glass, he appreciated the fact that his little brother was a good kid. It was because of Bobby and other boys like him that Roland took over the alumni group when rumors of closing the school began to circulate. But he soon realized he didn’t have the time to organize necessary fundraising activities to keep the school open. His father’s untimely death had put new business responsibilities on his shoulders, and he was trying to do what he could for his mother and Bobby on a personal level. He was ready to do his part for the school, too, but it would take time, and it was evident that time was working against him.
Although Roland deeply respected and admired Brother William Daniels, he was willing to admit the aged man had done little for school development over the last five years. Someone young and energetic needed to boost interest in St. Joseph High School.
But a woman? What a change! He just wasn’t convinced that Jessie Medina was the right person for the job.