Sherryl Woods - Twilight

“It was a wise investment, wasn’t it?” Dana asked.

Rick nodded. “He repaid all of the loans in the first year and he’s been in the black ever since. Four of his younger brothers and sisters work here now. His mother comes in to act as hostess in the evening. It’s truly a family enterprise.”

“You must be very proud,” she said with obvious sincerity.

“Not me. Ken had the foresight to see what Tico could be. I was worried only about getting him off the streets. It takes more than that. I can rescue kids every day. I can talk until I’m blue in the face about opportunity and dreams and success. It takes people like Ken to make them a reality, to keep these kids from drifting back to their old ways. Your husband offered more than a moral compass. He offered hope.”

He met her gaze evenly. “Can you see now that even though my loss is very different from yours, it runs just as deep?”

He could see the struggle in her eyes, the unwillingness to acknowledge that he might be suffering because of Ken’s death, just as she was. Eventually, though, she was too honest to lie, even to herself.

“I think I’m beginning to see that,” she conceded, albeit grudgingly. “But don’t you see that it was because of that very need you had for him that he’s dead?”

Ah, Rick thought, there was the rub. He fought that acknowledgment, denied it. When he did allow it, he could see his responsibility so clearly it kept him awake nights.

“I’m sorry,” he told her once more. “But even if I’d known what the outcome was going to be, I wouldn’t have stopped him from coming. Yo, Amigo, the kids there, kids like Tico, needed him.”

“So did I,” she said fervently, visibly choking back a sob.

Rick reached across the table and took her hand in his. It was cold as ice, but she didn’t pull away.

“I know, Dana,” he told her quietly. “I know.”

She wasn’t through with him yet, though. “Because of you, my kids will grow up without a father.”

He could have told her there were plenty of kids here in the barrio who would grow up without a father, as well, but it would have brought her no comfort. He thought of her going home to that empty, silent house in the suburbs and, for once, he didn’t envy the life she and so many others had.

Once, not so very long ago, he would have dismissed her as an uncaring, pampered housewife. He had kept that opinion to himself, even when Ken had sung her praises and ignored her shortcomings. Now he was glad that he had. She had loved her husband and her kids. With her misguided notion that she could insulate them from the world, she had wanted nothing more than to protect them. How could he fault her for that? It was exactly what he wanted for so many others.

“I’ll take you home now,” he said at last.

From the despondent look in her eyes, he suddenly realized that it was a trip neither of them was looking forward to.

With every mile that brought them closer to home, Dana felt the tension inside her mount. It was worse in many ways than what she’d felt only hours earlier, when she had made the reverse trip into Chicago. She had gone to Yo, Amigo filled with rage and, perhaps, if she were totally honest, just a modicum of fear of the uncertainties ahead.

Coming home, where she knew exactly what to expect, she felt only this vague tightness in her chest, the far more devastating threat of more emptiness. Even though the winter sky was darkening, it was barely four in the afternoon. A long, lonely evening stretched out ahead of her.

When they pulled into the driveway, Rick glanced at her knowingly. “Are you going to be okay here by yourself?”

“Of course,” she said, denying the truth. “I’ve lived in this house for nine years. It’s home.” For how much longer? she wondered. She couldn’t drag out the move forever. Sooner or later, the board’s patience would wear thin.

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

He regarded her with obvious skepticism. “Maybe you should call Mrs. Jefferson.”

The thought appealed too much. Kate’s cheerful ways and common sense would chase away the shadows. She forced herself to shake her head. “No, this is the way it’s going to be. I have to get used to it.”

“Not overnight.”

“Yes,” she said. “The sooner the better.” Changing the subject, she asked, “What time will you be here tomorrow?” Only after she’d asked did she wonder if she’d sounded too anxious to escape.

“Two-thirty, maybe three.”

“Or maybe later,” she said, imagining him to be the kind of man who lost all track of time.

“I said two-thirty or three,” he corrected. “That’s what I meant.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

He regarded her with a direct look that commanded her attention. Only when he had it, did he say, “Dana, I know you don’t want to trust me, not even in so small a detail, but I mean what I say. You’ll see.”

“It’s not important.”

“I think it is. Would you like me to come in with you?”

She almost smiled at that. “To chase away the ghosts?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“No,” she said too quickly. She didn’t want him inside again, in Ken’s space. He was the kind of man who could far too quickly overshadow memories. They would fade fast enough without the competition. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She left the car in a rush, then hurried up the front walk. She fumbled the key in the lock and then she was inside. She closed the door quickly behind her, blocking out the view of Rick Sanchez still sitting in her driveway, his gaze worried as he stared after her.

She didn’t want his worry or his concern. The only thing she wanted from Rick Sanchez was entry into the world where her husband had died.

She peeked out from behind a curtain and saw that he was still there. Eventually, though, he started the car and backed out of the drive. Only then did she release the breath she had unconsciously been holding. Relief followed, relief that didn’t bear too close an examination.

Fortunately, just then the phone rang. Switching on a light as she crossed the room, she grabbed the portable phone eagerly, glad for anything that would push Rick Sanchez and the disturbing afternoon they’d just shared from her mind.

“Mom?”

She wasn’t prepared for her son’s whispered voice. It was thick with tears and enough to break her heart. Her oldest prided himself on never crying. Since Ken’s death, Bobby had taken his role as man of the house far too seriously. Except at the funeral, he had remained stoically dry-eyed. He had been the one to comfort his younger brothers, to try to explain the inexplicable, when Dana’s words had failed. This afternoon, though, he sounded more like a scared and lonely little boy.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m here.”

“Why can’t we come home? We miss you.”

“Oh, baby, I know. I miss you, too. How’s school?”

“Awful. It’s not like home.”

“I know it’s an adjustment,” she said with a sigh. “But we talked about that. You all said you wanted to stay in Florida for the rest of the school year, remember? You wanted to see if you liked it better there than Chicago.”

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