Roland sat on the bed and finished lacing his white leather sneakers. In one step he reached the window, then twisted the mini-blind rod to look outdoors.
The day was blue skies and sunshine—perfect holiday weather for family picnics. And it was the first Memorial Day in years that he wasn’t groaning over sore muscles after playing two days of softball at the Alumni Tournament. Instead, this Memorial Monday, he suffered from a bruised heart. And whenever he tried to imagine what his life would be like without Jessie, he could feel anguish bleed through him again.
Yesterday he had spent the day alone, replaying the conversation with Jessie and the two men from the recording company. He tried to find a solution that would make both Jessie and him happy. And while he knew she was busy yesterday tallying the concert profits, he kept hoping she would telephone. When the sun had set, and she hadn’t called, he kept trying to consider things from her perspective. Even if he agreed to move, her new job would demand traveling. How would all the separation impact their relationship? Not to mention that he would be working long hours himself, trying to start up a new business in Houston.
And what of his business here in San Antonio? None of Jorge’s sons were interested in Tovías Mechanics, and Jorge was close to retirement. How could Roland desert the man who was another father to him? How could he move away from his mother and brothers? If only Dad were still alive. If only I could talk to him about—everything!
He sighed, blinking into the sunshine coming through the window.
Today his mother expected Ray and Letty, Jorge and his family, and his Aunt Isabel and her family to come for a barbecue this evening, but Roland was in no mood for entertaining. He couldn’t feel anything today beyond his own sadness. Nothing would be the same when Jessie left.
Moving from the window, Roland carefully stepped between the bed and a navy blue chair. He made his way out of his crowded apartment, walking the short distance to his mother’s house. He opened the back door and saw his mother alone, drinking coffee at the kitchen table. She wore her faded pink robe, but her curly brown hair was neatly brushed.
She turned slightly at the sound of the door. “Rolando, m’ijo. Buenos días. Isn’t it a perfect day for a party?”
“What are we celebrating, Mom?” Taking a white coffee mug from the cabinet, Roland poured himself a cup of coffee, then walked over to the kitchen table.
“We’re celebrating so many blessings! The concert was a success for the school. Bobbys got a gold trophy for winning the state track meet. The City Council’s going to give money for the drainage project we need on Avenida Sol.”Consuelo Tovías’s round brown eyes shone with excitement. “Rolando, the family hasn’t been together since your father died. I think la familia is reason enough to have a party.” She passed the sugar container across the table to her oldest son. “Even Ray said he would drop by for awhile.”
“That’s good,” he said, knowing it would make his mother happy to see Ray. His younger brother was usually too wrapped up in his job or with his wife’s entertaining to visit his family. He had even been too busy to help with the concert, although he did pledge a two-thousand-dollar donation for expenses.
“Did you help Jessie count money yesterday?” his mother asked.
Roland shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I did my work at Sunken Gardens. When Jessie needs something else, she’ll call me.” As he stirred more sugar into his coffee cup, he thought, If she doesn’t call me soon, I may go crazy.
His mother’s soft brown hand rested on Roland’s arm. “I like Jessie a lot, m’ijo.” Her words only made him feel worse.
“I like Jessie, too, Mom,” he admitted in a quiet voice.
“When I first met her at the parents’ meeting, I was impressed by her hard work. And when she came to the Athletic Banquet when Bobby got his jacket, I noticed the way she looked at you. At the concert, I saw you two together, and I could tell that you feel like she does.”
He couldn’t answer. What was there to say? “Do you want some breakfast, m ’ijo ? ¿Huevo s rancheros?”
He shook his head, even though it had been months since his mother had offered to cook his favorite breakfast. A pleasant surprise, but he didn’t want his mother to do it. “Thanks, Mom, but I’ll just have coffee.”
He sipped the hot liquid. It burned his tongue, but he was almost relieved to feel a pain he could control.
“Will Jessie come to our barbecue today?” his mother asked.
He stared into his cup. “I don’t know. Why?” “I wanted her advice about getting better publicity for P.O.N.S.” His mother laughed softly, her brown eyes twinkling. “She has so many good ideas. She’s very smart, you know?”
His black eyes rose and met his mother’s. “Yes, I know she’s smart. So do a lot of other people.” He took a deep breath, hating to rain on his mother’s good humor because the family was coming for a visit. But he found himself with an overwhelming need to share his turmoil with someone who loved him. “Mom, I wouldn’t count on Jessie. She may not be around to help P.O.N.S. or the school much longer.”
“What are you talking about?” His mother frowned at him.
“The night of the concert, two men from a recording company offered Jessie a job in Houston. A fancy job with a big salary. Probably twice as much as she makes at St. Joe’s.”
“Rolando, I don’t think you know Jessie like you think you do.” Her careworn face brightened with a smile. “I met her family at the concert. They’re like us. Simple, good people. And she’s a good person, too. She cares about people more than money.”
His fingers drummed on the table. “Even a good person can have ambition. I know Jessie. Once she decides she wants something, she won’t let anyone or anything stop her.”
“But there’s nothing wrong in caring so deeply, that you won’t stop until you get what you want. Your mamá fights every day with the same kind of spirit.”
“What?” His eyebrows slanted together. “I don’t understand.”
“Rolando, don’t you know why I work so hard with P.O.N.S.? I care about my home, the people who live on our street. I want to show my support for the police who try to keep drugs out of the barrio. I don’t want to see politicians make promises and not keep them. I want the City Council to give our district money to fix up streets and build bridges so the kids can cross safely in rainy weather. It’s only fair that we get what the north side neighborhoods do. I don’t want my sons feeling they have to live across town in order to have a decent place to raise their families.”
Her urgent words caught Roland’s attention. He had never asked his mother why she worked so hard with the group. He had just assumed she did it to fill in her time after his father died. He had no idea of his mother’s commitment. He thought she was deserting Bobby to go to her meetings, when in fact she was fighting to keep him safe in his own neighborhood. And she had never before mentioned her feelings about Ray and Letty’s choosing to build their house in Redland Hills, a thirty-minute drive from where Ray had grown up.
His mother’s fingers wrapped around Roland’s. “Ay, Rolando, do you really think Jessie would leave the school?”
“I don’t know, Mom. She was very excited when those men offered her the job in Houston.” Roland sighed sadly, wishing he wasn’t too old to climb into his mother’s lap. If only she could kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.
“There’s nothing wrong if a woman wants a career, Rolando. I stayed home with my sons, but things have changed now. Women work and raise families, too.”
“I know that.” Why did everyone think he wanted to lock a woman in his house and let her serve his needs alone? All he wanted was for the woman he married to share his life and his dreams. But his dreams were here with his family, his friends, and his work. And with Jessie and St. Joe’s. His dreams didn’t include relocating in Houston.
“Rolando, you love Jessie, don’t you?” Her voice broke through his thoughts.
He swallowed something salty down his throat. “Yes, I do love her, Mom.”
“Then you need to give her a reason to stay. You need to offer her something a fancy job will never give her. Something better. Do you understand what I mean?”
Before he could answer, Bobby romped into the kitchen. His brown hair was still damp from a morning shower, and he wore only jean cutoffs and a white tank shirt.
“Morning, Mom. Hi, Rolo. Man, I’m starving.” He wandered over to the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out the carton of eggs. “Mom, you want some scrambled eggs?”
“No, Bobby, not today.” His mother stood up.
Her fingers combed the strands of black hair off Roland’s forehead. “Look into your heart, mi`jo. You’ll find all your answers there.” Her voice changed as she turned to Bobby. “I’m going upstairs. Rolando, if you change your mind about huevos rancheros, I’ll be glad to fix them later.”
As he listened to the familiar clap of her chanclas as his mother walked out of the kitchen, Roland took another drink of his coffee. His eyes shifted to Bobby, who sang some outrageous song under his breath. The boy had grabbed a frying pan from a lower cabinet and pretended to strum it like a guitar. Then he clanged it on the stove, lit the burner, and spun around on his bare feet before reaching for a couple of eggs.
He couldn’t help but smile at Bobby’s performance. The boy moved though the motions of making breakfast with the same ease with which he ran a mile. When Roland was sixteen, he could only make toast. He always expected his mother to fix his meals.
Roland suddenly noticed what an advantage Bobby had. He thought nothing of doing his own cooking, or his laundry, or helping with the housework when his mother was gone. Bobby would have it so much easier when he went off to college and had to do for himself. Roland had brought all his dirty laundry home his first years at college. He took advantage of his mother’s good heart in numerous ways because he didn’t have the con fidence and independence Bobby had.
Jessie was right when she had told him that his mother deserved a life outside her home if she wanted it. And Bobby was old enough to take care of himself. Though the boy had lost his father, he still had two brothers he could ask for help or advice when needed. His big brother didn’t have to live in a cramped apartment over the garage when Tovías Mechanics was close by. And the way Bobby could run, the garage would be only minutes away from the house.
As the last of the coffee went down his throat, Roland knew the time had come to reestablish his own independence. He had his own life to live, and wanted a special woman to share it. He had always told himself that he wanted to marry a woman just like his mother, not for homemade tortillas, but for her intelligence, loyalty, and devotion. He wanted a woman who was able to give herself to those who depended on her talents and skills, yet also commit herself to the man who loved her. He needed someone who believed in the same traditions he did, but now he knew those traditions were made to build upon, not to control and dominate their lives.
And Roland admitted he had been trying to control this new situation with Jessie. He kept thinking he had to find the solution himself, when the problem involved both of them. And he already knew that together they were a great team. Together, they could resolve this problem, too, because they loved each other.
His mother had said the answers would be inside his heart. Then they had to be inside Jessie’s heart, too.
As all the figures on the paper blurred together for the third time, Jessie lowered her head into her hands. She was tired, and she belonged at home, but at home, there was nothing to do but try to find answers for questions that made her head ache. She couldn’t escape the pain haunting her, and no amount of aspirin would stop it. There was nothing to do but deal with the situation before her. But, how?
Yesterday, she was glad to be busy with the business office staff, four alumni who were accountants, and Brother Edward, who all helped sort through the concert receipts. And even though she had insisted this job was best handled by the business office, she kept hoping Roland would come by the school. Roland had agreed to concentrate on the concert itself, and he was a man of his word. Wasn’t it one of the reasons she loved him so much? She also knew Roland had enough stubborn pride to blame her for this problem between them and would expect her to come to him and say . . . say, what?
Roland, I love you, but this job offer is what I’ve always wanted.
Or, Roland, I love you, but I want to do more with my life than make your breakfast every morning.
Or, Roland, I love you, but if you don’t move with me to Houston, our relationship will never survive.
She sighed. The only thing she knew was that she loved Roland. But if she turned down Treehouse, would she still be happy?
“Need an aspirin, Jessie?”
Her head shot up. Brother William Daniels stood in the doorway. His skinny frame did not come close to filling the gap the way Roland’s body had so many times in the last two months.
“Hello, Brother William. No, I don’t need an aspirin. I was just resting my eyes.”
He walked over to the window, his hands in the pocket of his black pants. “Today is a holiday, you know? Why aren’t you off on a Memorial Day picnic with Roland?”
Her eyes lowered. “Maybe later.”
She heard his shuffling steps as he moved around her office. Usually, she was glad to see the old man, but right now, so close to tears and too exhausted to keep them under control for long, she wished the old man would leave.
“I’m not a man to go to a concert, but I had a lot of fun. You did a great job.”
Jessie swallowed hard before she could speak. “Thanks.” Again she was reminded of the compliments from the men from Treehouse Recording and their job offer. Who wouldn’t want a spacious office, a secretary to take care of details, and the chance to travel at the company’s expense? She had a chance to get everything she wanted in a career, didn’t she?
“You gave the school endowment fund a great start, Jessie. What’s the next project?”
Guilt weighed heavily upon her as she faced Brother William. He had put the future of St. Joseph High School into her hands. What would happen when she left?
“You know, Jessie, this school means so much to me.” His gravelly voice was touched by emotion. “I taught here forty years before I retired to do development. We have a good school. The buildings are old, but they’re tough. Like a few of the brothers around here, wouldn’t you say?”
She heard him flipping through something on the short cabinet behind her, but she kept her back to him, struggling to keep her shoulders from shaking.
“Jessie, did you know that we’ve had thirty new students register in the last month? Lots of people call every day asking about the school. We’ve needed some good public relations around here for a long time. Next, we’ll need to work on enrollment, maybe a Career Day and all the speakers could be our own alumni. Do you remember all those things we discussed on the day you applied for the job at St. Joe’s?”
Jessie chewed on her finger as her eyes closed. She remembered. They had discussed an alumni mentor program for the boys from single-parent homes. She wanted to help the counselor find more scholarships for the college-bound students. The boys on the Student Council had asked her to find more community service projects. Three corporate sponsors from the concert had already promised additional support for other fundraising events. Badger had even told her he wanted to return and play in the Alumni Softball Tournament next year. Every day her mind had spilled over with new ideas, new possibilities to make the school financially sound.
“St. Joe’s isn’t a bunch of school buildings, Jessie. It’s a community of people who want the best in education for their sons.” He chuckled. “I may need to eat my words, eh? Some day your daughter will be more than just a cheerleader for St. Joe’s.”
Jessie’s shoulders drooped. Not if my daughter lives in Houston. Then, as if someone had blown an accumulation of dust off an old picture, she suddenly had a clear idea of her choices.
Why should she travel all over the country promoting records and singers who meant nothing to her? Why had she thought that nomad life would even suit her? She liked living near her family, eating with them once a week, and watching her nieces and nephews grow up.
It wasn’t until Brother William walked into her office that she realized how much she wanted to keep fighting for St. Joe’s School. She wanted everyone to believe in this exceptional place where students could get a solid education in an environment that nurtured the total person. Why not stay in San Antonio and promote people and traditions she believed in?
Right now she had an interesting job that challenged all her creative talents. Plus, she was free to set her own schedule. If necessary, she could also do her work at home. That would enable her to keep her position and raise a family, too. What good was a tremendous salary, perks, and incentives, if she was far away from everyone she loved? There was no better incentive to stay where she was than the fact that she had found a wonderful man who loved her. And he would always support her career because her success was something he wanted, too.
“You know, Brother William? I know my daughter’s coming to school at St. Joe’s.” She turned in her chair and smiled at the old man. “We just need to convince the old guard that coeducation is good for the school. Maybe you can give me some pointers on handling the more traditional types around here.”
Brother William, who was moving towards the door, started chuckling. “Roland is definitely the man for that job. Our Pointer knows how to get those points on the scoreboard when everybody else thinks we’ve lost the game.”
Brother William turned to look at her. “I might have started an alumni club, but you and Roland have built a network of workers who want to keep the school open. Beyond the alumni, you have the parents, students, and leaders in the community believing in our school. That’s what school development is all about. You two will keep St. Joe’s School open for a very long time. I knew in my heart that you were the perfect person for this job.”
His blue-gray eyes raised slightly, as if he looked beyond her to something out the window, but he quickly returned his gaze to her. “I think you ought to close the office and go home. You don’t get paid overtime around here, you know.”
Jessie laughed softly. “I know that, Brother. Actually, I just need to make one phone call, then I’m going home.”
“Goodbye, Jessie.”
She watched him leave, then picked up the telephone.
Roland reached the school building just as Brother William opened the door.
“Hi, Brother!”
The old man’s white face was pinched together in a scowl. “How come you don’t have that pretty lady in there off on some picnic? She works too hard. If you don’t take better care of her, she’ll go work for someone else. And we can’t lose her, Pointer!”
“No, sir,” Roland said, gulping down his words.
“And where were you yesterday?” the old man demanded to know.
The years hadn’t tarnished Brother William’s ability to intimidate him. “Well, I—”
“Never mind.” Brother William waved away Roland’s explanation. “You’re here now. Now get inside, and take Jessie home.”
“Yes, sir!” Roland grabbed the door and held it open so Brother could come out first before he entered the building.
“And, Pointer . . .” Brother William stopped at the edge of the sidewalk.
“Yes?” “This time, be sure you close the blinds before you start kissing her, okay?”
“Yes, Brother.” Roland’s face felt like it burned under a blowtorch.
He quickly walked into the school building, trying not to think about the numerous times in the past three weeks he had taken a willing Jessie into his arms to share passionate kisses. He had always closed the door. He had forgotten about the window.
Brother William’s teasing scrambled Roland’s thoughts. So he paused outside Jessie’s office door trying to remember all he wanted to say to her. As he stood there, her voice came through the open doorway.
“I’m flattered you asked me. No—there’s no way that I can leave this week. What about next Monday? I can take an early plane and be in Houston by eight.”
Roland held his breath. He couldn’t believe she would make her decision without talking to him again.
“Thank you again, Gene,” she said. “I apologize again for calling you at home on a holiday. But I wanted to give you my answer right away. I’ll see you on Monday.”
What do I say now? He wondered.
The telephone clicked into its receiver. That’s when he walked inside the doorway and glared at her.
Jessie gasped, her hand slapping her chest. “You scared me!” Then she laughed, and stood up from her desk. “I can usually hear you coming because of your boots.” She glanced down, then up into his face. “Nice hi-tops. Are you playing basketball today?”
How could she talk about his shoes after she had just turned their relationship inside out? He walked into the office. “I came to find you, Jessie. So we could talk about that job in Houston.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Jessie took a step closer to him. “I made up my mind a few minutes ago. Brother William was here, and after we spoke together, I knew what I wanted to do.”
How could she be so calm? How could he let her leave? His eyes moved to the window, and suddenly he knew what he had to do, too. He walked around her and quickly adjusted the window blinds closed.
“Roland, what are you doing?”
He pulled her directly into his arms. “I love you, and I just can’t let you leave. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to keep you here at St. Joe’s.”
Jessie raised her eyes to meet his determined stare. She had no intention of moving to Houston, but decided to play out the romantic drama unfolding before her.
“And just what exactly are you prepared to do?” She fought to keep a straight face.
Then his arms relaxed around her. Gently, his lips touched hers.
“Jessie, please don’t leave. I love you. I’ll do everything within my power to make you happy. And this school needs you. If it’s the salary. . . .” He lowered his eyes a moment, swallowing hard. “I know this might sound old-fashioned, even silly—but I make more than enough money to give us everything we need. I want you to have a career because you enjoy it, because I want you to be happy. I love you, Jessie. St. Joe’s needs you. Stay here, Jessie, and—and—marry me.”
His tender admission touched her heart. She pulled back, so he could see her smile. “That’s a pretty nice counter-offer, Mr. Alumni President. Can I get it in writing?”
Her teasing made him frown. “No kidding around, Jessie. Are you taking the job in Houston or not?”
Jessie rested her hands on his arms. “I couldn’t leave St. Joe’s, Roland. My work has only just begun.”
“But I heard you on the phone—” he began.
“Roland, Treehouse Recording wants me to come to Houston and give a formal presentation to their marketing staff about what I did in concert promotions. They’re paying all my travel expenses and giving me a two-thousand-dollar consultant’s fee. Oh! And a five-thousand-dollar donation for the school.” She laughed happily when she saw the shock in his face. “I just had to say yes to that offer. Don’t you agree?”
“Wow—yes—I mean—you have to go! I’m just glad those guys appreciate your talents as much as we do.” He gave her a smile. “You know, Jessie, you can visit Houston any time, as long as you always come home to me. I love you, Jessie Medina.”
They shared a passionate kiss that left her breathless. It took her a moment before she could speak from her heart. “I know I couldn’t be happy without you, Roland. And I can’t leave St. Joe’s. They need me. There’s so much that I have right now that money can’t buy.”
He kissed her again. Then his fingers began working on the bands holding her braid in place. “Okay, Jessie. Brother William’s orders. No more work today. It’s a holiday, and I’ve come to invite you to a party. Mom’s inviting all the Tovías relatives she can find to our house later. We’re cooking fajitas.”
As her brown hair fell around her shoulders, and his fingers moved through it, she gave him a quick kiss. “Sounds delicious. I’ll go home now and make some flour tortillas.”
She saw his jaw drop, and she had to laugh at his incredulous expression. “What’s wrong, Roland?”
“You can actually make tortillas?”
“Of course I can. My grandmother taught me. My dad says that mine are even better than hers. But when you meet my abuela, please tell her that hers taste better, okay?”
Roland smiled as his hands wove through her long hair. “I love you so much, Jessie. I want us to have a great life together. We’ll raise our children here among our families. And, of course, we’ll send them to school at St. Joe’s.”
“Our daughters, too?” she asked him, just to be sure he’d stand beside her as they jumped the next hurdle in school development at St. Joseph High School.
“Definitely,” he said, before he sealed that new promise with their kiss.
And from that moment forward, Jessie knew they could chase their dreams together to reach the same bright end, and always hold each other close to the heart.