Andrew Gross - No Way Back

“No,” Roxanne said.

“No, Missus, it is not right.” Lauritzia stood up, but her eyes welled with tears. “It will be very hard for me to see them again and have to—”

“No.” Roxanne held her back by the arm. “This isn’t just a place of work for you. This is your home. No one forces you to leave.”

Lauritzia smiled, a smile that was both pleased yet skeptical, and went to pick up her coat and scarf. “I’m sorry, but I do not have a home anymore.”

“Yes, you do.” Roxanne took Lauritzia in her arms, the girl attempting to pull herself away, to grab her coat, to break free, until she just surrendered, not knowing whether to resist or go, the torrent building in her eyes, until she just gave up and put her head on Roxanne’s shoulder and began to cry.

Roxanne looked at her husband over Lauritzia’s shoulder as she stroked her hair. “You poor child. God only knows what you’ve been through. Well, you damn well have one now.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Roxanne argued to Harold outside, his lawyerly, gray-templed look of reason and restraint. “I know what’s happened. But we can’t just let her leave. That girl’s been through hell. If we let her walk out that door, we’ll be sending her to her grave. She’ll be dead in a week!”

“Rox, you heard her story …” Harold leaned against the wall. “We’ve got the kids. These people could try again anytime.”

“And speaking of the kids, look what she did for ours at the mall. She put them before herself. You saw how close that shot came. That could have been Jamie or Taylor. We can’t just abandon her, Harold. What kind of a thing would that be?”

“There’s a lot involved here, Rox. It’s not just a question of good intentions. She’s in violation of a court order to return home. She’s been illegally hiding here. For all we know her father may be at odds with the U.S. government. Not to mention the little matter that if these people actually now know where she is—”

“I realize they know where she is, Harold! But we can’t just walk away from her. This girl saved our children.”

“I was talking about our children, Roxanne.” Harold looked at her sternly.

“I know. I know … But if she goes back and something happens to her, I couldn’t live with that. We don’t do those kinds of things, Harold. If what she says is true, the U.S. government has treated her every bit as cruelly as this Cano. They’ve got blood on their hands as well. She saved Jamie and Taylor. We can’t turn around and say, ‘Thank you very much, but you have to be on your way. It’s just too much of a risk. Here’s a little money.’ Not after what she’s been through. You’re a lawyer. The case can be reopened. We can represent her in some way. Or we can set her up somewhere. We can afford it. What the hell is it all for, anyway? We don’t just call her part of the family, and take her on vacations and trust our children in her care, and then when something comes out that interferes with our neat, orderly lives, give her fifty bucks and a train ticket and tell her we don’t have the heart!”

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