CHAPTER FIVE
MOSES RAMSEY
He sat back in the chair, adjusting his thick glasses on his face. For a Latino, he was pale. And with his glasses he almost looked Asian. I searched his face, but he bore little resemblance to his daughters. He did not even look like Ramón, as far as I could tell.
“I know how you must be feeling but I’m not sure that going after Tilo is a wise idea.”
“If she was involved, that woman has to be punished. If you’re not going to help me, I’ll find someone else who will.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds as I contemplated his request. Mr. Mendoza scared me when he mentioned Verónica. I needed to find out how much he knew. His offer had its pros and cons. On the pro side, Mr. Mendoza’s job offer would provide me with a valid excuse for pursuing Tilo. On the flip side, Mr. Mendoza would expect progress reports, and I wasn’t inclined to share much information with him until I knew which side he was playing for. The other con was if I didn’t accept his offer, he may hire someone else who would unravel the mystery of Tilo’s disappearance and my involvement with her. Accepting Mr. Mendoza’s offer became a no-brainer.
I said, “Mr. Mendoza, the letter you showed me was postmarked before the death of your brother, Monte. This makes me think she might be involved in his death. Your brother came to me posing as you and since we’d never met, I believed him.” If he was surprised by what I’d said he did not show it. “He told me about some missing bonds and money that was never found. Chances are if you find Tilo she will have it, but you will probably have to turn that money over to the Feds. Are you okay with that?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. The Feds know nothing about it, and I don’t care about the money. I want the bitch to pay for whatever her involvement was in my family’s discomfort. If you recover any of the money or the bonds, keep it. Consider it a bonus, in addition to your fee for finding a missing person.”
“Mr. Mendoza, finding Tilo is not going to be easy. Nine times out of ten she has already fled the States, so I may be required to travel out of the country.”
“I’m well aware of that. Just draw up the agreement so you can get started.” He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. He stood up, indicating that our meeting was over.
CHAPTER SIX
CARLOS MENDOZA
Two Weeks Later
I was nervous as I rang the bell. I didn’t know what I would do if the door was slammed in my face. My heart was leaping around in my chest as if it were trying to get out. I wasn’t prepared for the woman who answered the door. Stunned. I stepped back. For some stupid reason, I wasn’t expecting an adult to answer, I expected to see the little girl I remembered. I knew she was grown, I saw it for myself at the hospital, but to me, she would always be my little girl.
“Hello, Padre,” Verónica said.
There was little warmth in her voice. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t a surprise. Tears welled up in my eyes. However, I brought this situation on myself and there was no one left to blame. How was I ever going to make them understand that I never meant to hurt them? That was the question I’d been contemplating for the last two weeks, the one I tried to answer before I showed up on her doorstep.
“Verónica. It’s been a long time.” What a lame-ass thing to say. If I could kick myself in the ass, I would have. My hands trembled and I almost dropped my suitcase. I scanned her face, and I could not help but to admire how beautiful she was. With the exception of her eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother, Alelina.
“Yes, it has been. Are you going to come in?” She opened her door wider and I walked into her home, humbled.
I was ashamed of myself for staying away so long. I stood in her living room clutching my bag and feeling like a complete jerk. My suitcase became a lifeline of sorts. It was the only familiar thing in the room, although I really wanted to hug my oldest child. She was no longer a child; she was a woman with enough reasons to hate me for the rest of my life, for all the lies.
“You can put your bag down over there.” She pointed to a corner that I wanted to stand in myself.
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I continued to stand there with my head down.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?” To her credit, she was trying to make it easier than it should have been. If her nerves were fucking with her like mine were, she didn’t show it.
“No, I’m fine. I’m glad to be here. You are so beautiful.” All my sentiments ran together. She jumped as if startled by my compliment.
“Uh, thank you. You, you look the same, except maybe for a little gray in your hair.”
I smiled. At least she remembered me. She sat down on the sofa, and I finally relinquished the death grip on my suitcase and sat down beside her. She patted my hand. It wasn’t the hug I craved, but at least she didn’t smack the hell out of me. Freely, I cried. It was a start.
“Padre, don’t. It is what it is. There is no way to change it; we just have to figure out where we go from here.”
When did she become the grown-up and I the child?
“It’s so much that I don’t understand,” I said, feeling like I had broken my children’s hearts.
“Well, Victória and I have a bunch of questions for you as well, but why don’t we wait to talk about them when we are all together?”
“What of Ramón, where is he?” I looked around the room, hoping to see him peering at me from around a corner or something.
Her cool veneer slipped. I should’ve known it was bad when Verónica started to cry. I wiped my own eyes and moved to hug her. Finally an opportunity to be supportive.
“Padre, I couldn’t tell you this over the phone because I’m still trying to deal with it myself ... Ramón is dead. The same woman who sent you a letter killed him in cold blood.”
I pushed her away from me and jumped off the sofa. “I ... uh ... wait ... oh Jesus.” I fell to my knees. My heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. My stomach hurt and I couldn’t seem to get enough air in my lungs. I gasped as I tried to get words out of my mouth. “She killed my son? Oh God no!” It was a punishment. I knew in my heart that God was finally making me pay for all the deception and the lies.
“I’m sorry, Padre.” Verónica lifted me off the floor.
I was trembling and I couldn’t stop. So much ... so fast. First my wife, my brother, and now this. Ramón shouldn’t have had to pay for my sins. She allowed me the time I needed to get myself together.
“Cold blood, what does it mean?”
“It means there was no reason to kill him. The police said she shot him at close range. Since there was no apparent sign of struggle, I can only assume she shocked both of them.”
“But why?” I paused. What did she mean? Both of them? Ramón was the third son I’d lost. It felt as if my heart were breaking into a million pieces. I loved my daughters with all my heart, but my sons held a sacred place in my heart. They were in charge of continuing the family bloodline.
“She also tried to kill Victória.”
Both of my children? I was too distraught to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I noticed Victória’s absence, but I assumed she didn’t want to see me or she was otherwise busy.
“What? Where is she?” I looked around the house, expecting her to walk into the room from the kitchen. This was further confirmation that I had fucked up as a parent and as a husband. It was my job to keep my family safe and I failed. My head felt like it was going to explode; it was so heavy I could barely lift it.
“She’s in the hospital but she’s in a coma. We are hopeful she’ll pull through,” Verónica said.
“We? Who is we?” Either she was not making sense or I’d missed some of the conversation.
“My husband and I.”
I did a double take. My eldest daughter married? How could I have been so far out of the loop? “You’re married? When did this happen?” I was too confused and hurt to get mad. Tilo’s letter told me Verónica was in the hospital but it obviously left out many other details. I was getting exactly what I deserved for not having an active part in their lives. I stood up; the walls felt like they were closing in on me.
Verónica wore a look of compassion and understanding on her face.
“I can’t do this right now. It’s too much.” I paced back and forth while she silently watched me. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” I walked toward the door.
“Padre, if you leave now, don’t come back.”
It wasn’t a threat. I heard it in her voice. She was forcing me to deal with too many emotions at one time. I’d spent the last twenty years trying to block them out in order to keep them safe. Now she was basically telling me all my efforts were in vain because at the end of the day, I failed them.
I screamed at her, “What do you expect me to do?” I didn’t mean to yell, I just felt so helpless. I didn’t know this woman who stood behind me, but I could tell she wasn’t kidding.
“I expect you to sit down and have a real dialogue with me. It’s time to put the deception and lies behind us so we can move forward. It’s too late for the past, but we can definitely work on the future.”
I was torn. I didn’t want to admit to the past. But unless I wanted to go through the rest of my life alone, I had no choice but to come back and take my punishment like a man. I was defeated. “Where do we begin?”
“Padre, before we go into all that, there are a lot of things I need to know. For example, is it true you and Madre both speak fluently in several languages? If so, how come we never knew this?”
Shamed again. I felt like she was beating me about the head for all my transgressions. We kept a lot of secrets when we lived in Colombia and things didn’t get better when the family moved to Atlanta. I wanted to tell her everything but there were still some things that they didn’t need to know, even after all this time had passed. I was only going to tell her as much as she needed to know. The rest I would take to my grave.
“I know I owe you some answers, but can we go see Victória first? I’d rather explain everything to both of you so I only have to go through this once.”
“I can respect that. But she’s still in a coma. The hospital said they would call if her situation changed.” Verónica stopped talking and cocked her head.
I heard my grandchild crying somewhere in the house. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling, and I followed her gaze and smiled.
“I’ll be right back.” She rushed up the stairs before I could say anything. I found out about the baby when I went to the hospital but I didn’t let her know I was there.
Verónica came down the stairs carrying a small baby wrapped in a blue blanket. She might have forgotten all about me as she went about caring for her child. I could hear her moving about the kitchen. I assumed she was fixing the baby’s bottle. She was gone for a long time but she finally rejoined me.
“Sorry about that, your grandson is very demanding.” She was beaming with pride, but she also looked nervous.
I, on the other hand, was trying to act surprised, but my emotions were raw. “How old is he?” It seemed like the appropriate question to ask.
“Four weeks, he was such a tiny baby he had to stay in the hospital until he got his weight up and he’s gained four pounds since we’ve been home,” she answered proudly.
Four weeks? I shook my head as anger fused through my body. My wife had damn near a year to tell me Verónica was pregnant and she hadn’t said a mumbling word. My brother had to have known as well, and that was the hardest pill to swallow because he knew how much I had cried over my sons. He knew how hard it was for me to let my surviving son leave Colombia.
“Huh? Did you say something?” She didn’t even look up. Her eyes were bonded with her baby.
“I questioned why your mother didn’t tell me before now.”
She looked at me, then quickly looked away, but not before I saw the distrust in her eyes. “Padre, we weren’t sure how you’d react.”
I jumped up off the sofa and started pacing the living room. “And you thought I’d react better learning this way?”
“Keep your voice down. I’m trying to get Li’l Moses to go back to sleep so we can finish our conversation,” she warned.
I was walking a thin line. I wanted to forge a relationship with my daughter, but I was so angry I just wanted to punch something. “So, if all of this hadn’t happened, I probably would’ve never known about your child, right? Is that what you are telling me?” I could not believe what was happening. Just thinking my family would go to such lengths to keep a secret hurt me to my heart, but I couldn’t throw stones. Her mother and I had done the exact same thing so I couldn’t really be mad.
I pushed my anger aside. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
CARLOS MENDOZA
The front door was swung open, then I heard a deep voice, but the speaker’s face was hidden from me.
“Honey, I’m home,” the voice called out.
I was anxious to meet the man my daughter married. I heard a loud crash upstairs and the pounding of feet coming down the stairs.
“Verónica, is everything okay?” I came out of the living room and walked right into Moses.
His briefcase was on the counter and he was going through the mail. At first I thought he was following me, but I ruled out that thought because he was too comfortable. He was going through the mail like he had a vested interest. Then I remembered what Verónica had called the baby.
Moses looked up from the mail, surprise written all over his face. “Carlos, I ... Shit.”
My mind refused to connect the dots, even though the pieces were right in front of my face. “What ... Why?” I was too stunned to get mad yet. I was still trying to get over the changes in my family that I didn’t immediately understand what I was seeing.
Verónica rushed down the stairs so fast, I feared she would fall. “Padre, uh ...” Verónica’s eyes flashed from me to Moses as tears shined brightly in her eyes.
“Careful,” I shouted. But that wasn’t what I wanted to say. Looking back at Moses the pieces finally fit together. Moses and my daughter. I scowled at Moses. I was angry, but I was going to deal with that motherfucker later.
Moses stood next to my daughter, and even if I wanted to deny what was right in front of me, I couldn’t. The question was how was it all going to play out.
“Who the fuck is this man and, more important, why does he have a key to your house?” With feigned ignorance, I measured my words carefully. I didn’t want to intimidate Moses into exposing our previous conversation.
“Keep your voice down,” Verónica admonished. Raw emotions flashed across Verónica’s face, and I could tell she was upset but determined to defend her position. “Padre, wow, this is such bad timing. Can we all please go into the living room?”
“Fine.” I immediately regretted consulting with Moses, and I wanted to punch him in the face for keeping the truth from me. He had every opportunity to tell me that he was involved with my daughter the moment he realized who I was.
Moses shifted from foot to foot as if he was uncertain as to whether or not he was going to follow us into the living room, but he came anyway and sat next to Verónica.
“Padre, I told you I was married. This is Moses ... my husband.”
“Are you kidding me?” I shouted. Outraged, I leaped up off the sofa. Visions of them having sex made my blood boil.
How the fuck could Moses not tell me that? Why him? This motherfucker has some explaining to do.
“No, I’m her husband,” Moses confirmed.
They grabbed hands and I had to physically force myself to unclench my fists. I didn’t know what upset me the most, the fact that she was married with a child or that she married a black man. And, more important, this
particular
black man. There were so many thoughts running through my head, I couldn’t speak for a moment.
Verónica said, “Padre, I know you’re upset. I wanted to explain why we kept it a secret but Moses got home before I—”
“Mr. Mendoza, despite the circumstances, it’s good to finally meet you.”
Surprised, my head swung up. I felt like I was in a very bad television show and I was expected to perform brain surgery. After some prompting from Verónica, Moses stood up and held out his hand but I didn’t want to take it.
I was unable to move. Even though I preferred to keep my business relationship with Moses a secret, I wasn’t sure I could stomach having him as a son-in-law. Verónica had to know my views on mixed relations and I felt like Moses was being deceitful so I didn’t trust him. My source of pain was that he looked me in the eye and didn’t say shit about even knowing my daughter, let alone being married to her.
“Padre, say something please.” Tears streamed from her eyes.
I didn’t mean to hurt her but I was hurting too. “How long have you two been married?” The words were forced between lips that didn’t want to open, but I was curious.
“We got married shortly after the baby was born and Victória got shot,” Moses stated with a hint of attitude in his voice.
I raised a brow. “Oh, really?”
“It wasn’t like that, Padre. I used to work for Moses and we fell in love.”
Was this supposed to make me feel better? I didn’t even know she had a job outside of the home. I stood up to leave because I needed to be alone to think. “It’s late, we should talk about this at another time. Would you show me where I will be staying?” I walked over and grabbed my suitcase, anxious to be by myself. I saw Verónica move out of the corner of my eye, but Moses stopped her from showing me the way to the guestroom.
“Does this change what we discussed?” Moses asked when we were out of Verónica’s earshot.
“Honestly, I don’t know. You’ve certainly given me something to think about.”
Our eyes locked, but neither of us said anything else.