Читать книгу Sounds Of Silence - Elizabeth White - Страница 12

Mortified that under pressure he’d relapsed into his childhood speech impediment, Eli tried to come up with an answer to Isabel’s question. One that wouldn’t make him sound crazy.

The Holy Spirit told me it should be you.

And, if he were gut-level honest, one big reason was the excuse to see Isabel every day.

“We can’t spare an agent to stay with her twenty-four/seven,” he finally said. “But there’s a little stipend in the budget, and I thought you could use the money—”

“Eli, I’m trying to sell my house,” Isabel said, as if she were explaining something to her son. “Danilo and I could be leaving Del Rio any day now. Then you’d be right back where you started.”

Eli tried to gauge the depth of her protest. Her expression was troubled, but he could tell she was distracted by the child’s fascination with the flowers on her shoes.

See, that was the thing. A little girl needed a woman to care for her. A woman with an innate sense of beauty. A woman of grace and tact and spiritual wholeness, even when life crushed her.

“Okay, that’s a good point,” he said. “But maybe we’ll nail Bryan’s murderer soon, and we won’t have to deal with that.”

Isabel sighed. “There’s another problem. I speak Spanish, but I don’t know any sign language.”

“She reads lips pretty well.” Eli bent down to rest his hand on the little girl’s head. When she looked up at him, he said carefully, “¿Flores?”

She gave him a wide smile and reverently touched one of the flowers on Isabel’s shoes.

Eli winked at Isabel. “See?”

Isabel’s smooth brow knit. “If she can do that, why can’t she communicate with you? What happened when you asked her name?”

“Try it.” Eli was curious to see if his instincts were correct.

Isabel rested her elbows on her knees, so that her face was close to the child’s. “Isabel,” she said, touching her own chest. She put a teasing finger on the little girl’s nose. “¿Como te llama?”

The child beamed and flattened Isabel’s hand. With her finger she traced a large letter M, then looked up at Isabel to see if she comprehended. When Isabel nodded, the girl finished spelling the name Mercedes.

Eli stared at Isabel dumbfounded. “Well I’ll be…. Her name’s Mercedes.”

“You mean she hadn’t told you that?” Isabel sat up.

“She hasn’t told us anything,” Eli said. “We’ve given her pencil and paper, asked her stuff, but…nothing. It’s weird, because you can tell she comprehends what you’re asking. Then she just gets this blank look and refuses to answer.”

Isabel smiled at Mercedes, who settled cross-legged on the floor and leaned against Isabel’s knee. “What else do you want to know?”

“Where she came from. Who her parents are. How she got that knife.”

“I suppose I could ask.” Isabel traced a gentle finger down the little girl’s crooked part. “Why do you think she told me her name?”

Eli couldn’t help wondering the same thing. His supervisor had brought in a deaf interpreter and a social worker this morning, but Mercedes had given the woman the same blank look she gave everyone else.

There was some connection with Isabel that Eli couldn’t explain. He shrugged. “Maybe you look like her mother. Who knows? Listen, Isabel—” He crouched on one knee. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d take Mercedes home with you tonight. Like I said, there’s even a little stipend money in the budget. You could talk to her some more, try to get her to talk back.”

Isabel bit her lip. Eli could see conflicting emotions chase across her expressive face, and he knew the money had nothing to do with it. In fact, he was probably going to have to make her take compensation. Mercedes had obviously grabbed a piece of Isabel’s tender heart.

“It might be good for Danilo to have to share me a little bit,” she murmured.

“He’s a good kid,” Eli said. “He’ll like having somebody to play with.”

Isabel tipped her head and looked him in the eyes. “You think it’ll just be for a day or two?”

“I’m sure of it,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “So you’ll do it?”

Mercedes suddenly wrapped both arms around Isabel’s legs.

Eli saw Isabel’s eyes fill as she laid a hand on the little girl’s dark, untidy head. “I’ll do it,” she sighed.

“Good.” Eli grinned. “I knew you would. There’s just one thing though.”

“I knew it.” Isabel’s beautifully marked brows drew together. “What’s the hitch?”

“It’s no big deal.” But Eli found himself unable to meet her eyes. “It’s just that we need to hide Mercedes until we find the killer.”

“No big deal,” Isabel muttered as she pulled into her driveway. “Sure, Eli. Hide an active seven-year-old in the same house with a five-year-old motormouth.” The neighbors were going to notice an extra child, and how was she going to handle grocery shopping?

Her elderly Escort shuddered to a stop, and the rear passenger door burst open. Danilo, who hadn’t stopped talking from the moment she’d picked him up in front of the gym, jumped out of the car and ran to open the door for Mercedes.

“Come on, Mercedes, I gotta show you the sandbox!” He grabbed his new friend by the hand and tugged.

Mercedes resisted, giving Isabel an apprehensive glance.

Isabel smiled, making a shooing motion. “Go ahead.”

She needed a little time to freshen the guest room, empty the closet. There was lunch to fix, too. Danilo liked peanut butter and jelly on toast. Every day. What would Mercedes like?

Probably anything, considering the poverty across the border.

As she unlocked the side door, Isabel looked up at the light fixture, which had been left on. Had it only been this morning that Eli had been here repairing it? Seemed like a lifetime of events had transpired since then.

Which just went to prove what a true marshmallow she was. Why couldn’t she just tell Eli n-o? He could have found somebody else to take Mercedes. There were lots of kindhearted women in their church. Women with more room, more money, less emotional baggage.

In a way, though, it was sort of flattering that he’d asked her. Eli was such a sweetie, and that boyish stammer did something to her resistance.

As she hung her purse in the laundry room and turned on the air conditioner window unit in the den, Isabel shook her head. And of course there was Mercedes herself. What mother could turn away a little girl who laid her head against your knee?

Isabel took a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread out of the pantry, then peeked out the kitchen window into the backyard. Beyond the clothes flapping in the breeze, she could see the children in the sandbox. Mercedes perched with fastidious femininity on the wooden side, while Danilo knelt on all fours, plowing a truck into a sand dune. His tennis shoes and socks had been abandoned outside the box. Isabel would probably have to excavate his ears and pockets before letting him in the house.

Resigned to sweeping up at least a bucket of sand, she finished putting lunch together, then went to the door.

“Danilo!” she called. “Bring Mercedes and come in for lunch.”

“Okay, Mommy,” he hollered back. Momentarily both children appeared at the door. “I don’t have to wash my hands,” Danilo announced through the screen. “I stuck ’em in Fonzie’s water bowl.”

Isabel grinned. A few weeks before Rico’s death, he had started feeding a mutt who’d wandered through their yard and made himself at home under the front porch. Big, ugly brown Fonzie—named after Rico’s favorite Happy Days character—had thoroughly weaseled his way into the family.

“Nice try.” She pointed at the sink. “Wash.” She beckoned Mercedes, who hovered outside, and rubbed her hands together. “Lavate,” she said slowly, so the little girl could read the word on her lips. Then, “Wash,” to demonstrate the English version.

Isabel loved to teach. In fact, she’d started college with the intention of earning her certificate, but getting pregnant right away had put an end to that. Rico had gotten bored with school and decided Border Patrol would suit him, so off they’d gone to the Academy at Glencoe. Since then she’d been so busy functioning as wife and mother, there hadn’t been time to think about finishing college. And after Rico’s death, she’d had all she could do to make ends meet. A talented seamstress, she’d made curtains, raised and lowered hems, sewn on buttons—boring jobs that sapped every bit of creative energy from a hobby she’d once loved.

All that was going to change, however, when she moved back to San Antonio. Her mother had promised to keep Danilo while Isabel went to college. She was going to be a teacher if it killed her.

All she had to do was sell this fixer-upper.

She gasped. She’d forgotten all about the appointment with the real estate agent this afternoon.

It was time to introduce to Danilo the concept of secrecy.

Isabel set a plate of sandwiches in the middle of her kitchen table, which served as dining room, breakfast nook, study and sewing room as the need arose. Danilo, who had long ago disdained the idea of a booster seat, hopped onto a chair with both legs folded under his bottom.

He folded his hands under his chin. “Can I say the blessing, Mommy?”

He always said the blessing, but he always asked first—a relic of the days when Rico used to take turns with him. The question never failed to tighten Isabel’s throat.

“Yes, but let’s get Mercedes situated first.” Isabel turned to find the little girl still in the laundry room, holding a pink hand towel against her cheek. After a deep, appreciative sniff, Mercedes neatly hung the towel on its rack. She smiled and circled her palm in front of her face.

“¿Bonita?” Isabel guessed, nodding. Oh, dear, how was she going to communicate with this little one? How would one say “eat?” She took a stab at it, bringing bunched fingers to her mouth.

Mercedes’s face lit. She rubbed her tummy.

Isabel laughed in relief. “Okay, I’m hungry, too,” she said in Spanish, patting her own stomach. “Come.” Offering her hand, she led Mercedes to a place at the table across from Danilo, who was now bouncing with impatience.

“Hurry, Mommy, God’s waiting.”

Smiling, Isabel sat at her end of the table near the bay window. “Let’s pray,” she said, bowing her head. Hopefully, having spent a couple of days with Benny at the orphanage, Mercedes would understand what was going on.

“Dear God, thanks for helping me write my name today.”

As Danilo rambled for a couple of minutes and finally got around to thanking God for the food, Isabel couldn’t help peeking. She was surprised and pleased to see Mercedes, eyes closed and hands moving, talking quite comfortably to God in her own way.

With a jolt, she realized Mercedes had pointed to her and Danilo several times.

When was the last time she’d felt like the answer to somebody’s prayer? Father, help me to be a blessing to this little girl.

“Amen,” said Danilo, reaching for a sandwich.

“Manners,” Isabel cautioned. “Offer one to your guest first.”

Danilo blinked. “Oh, yeah.” He thrust the plate across the table. “Here, Mercedes. The one on top’s got more jelly in it. You can have it.” He looked at Isabel, who smiled in approval. She’d given up convincing him Mercedes couldn’t hear his chatter.

Mercedes timidly took the top sandwich, watching for Isabel to begin eating before she took a dainty nibble. In between bites Mercedes examined the mermaid characters on her plate and cup. Someone had given them to Isabel as a baby gift before Danilo’s birth, and she’d put them away in case she ever had a girl. It was good to have a use for the dishes.

“Nilo,” began Isabel, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Danilo’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Logan said she wouldn’t call you.”

Isabel frowned. “About what?”

“About the time-out.”

“And why were you in time-out?” Danilo hid behind his milk glass, but Isabel waited him out.

He emerged sporting a world-class milk mustache. “I’s just talking.”

“You can’t talk whenever you feel like it, Danilo. That’s disrespectful and disobedient.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Danilo’s big brown eyes were sorrowful. “I told Mrs. Logan I’s sorry. I was telling Josh a joke. You know, what has two knees and swims?”

Isabel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was not going to work. Nilo couldn’t not talk. How in the world was she going to keep Mercedes’s presence a secret?

She leaned her head on her hand and regarded her son. “Okay, buddy. If Mrs. Logan forgave you, then I forgive you. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s Mercedes.”

Danilo beamed at Mercedes. “Thank you for getting me a sister! She’s way more fun than Josh’s sister.”

Isabel’s mouth fell open. “She’s not your sister! She’s just going to stay with us for a couple of days while the police look for a bad man who wants to find her.”

“I won’t let any bad man get her,” Danilo declared. “I’ll put on my superhero pajamas and—”

“Honey, no. Listen, all I need you to do is not tell anybody she’s staying with us.”

“But why?”

The three-letter W word. Why, why, why. If she heard it once, she heard it forty times a day.

“Because…” Isabel laid both hands on the table on either side of her plate. “Because I said so.”

“Not even Josh?”

“Especially not Josh.”

“Not Mrs. Logan?”

Isabel firmly shook her head.

Danilo scrunched his face for a moment, then grinned. “Superheroes can’t tell anybody who they are. I like secrets.”

Relief washed through Isabel. “That’s right. It’s a secret.”

“Okay.” Danilo cut a Rico-like look at Isabel. “But can I at least pretend she’s my sister?”

Pablo Medieros reracked the hundred-eighty-pound barbell he’d been bench-pressing and sat up to wipe his chest with a towel. In his opinion, the Piedras Negras Fitness Center was of barely acceptable standards, but it was the only private gym in town. His gaze touched the dusty windowsills and ceiling fans, the frayed carpet, the spiderwebs in the corners.

When Governor Avila, his boss and first cousin, won reelection this fall, his first action would be attracting businesses to the depressed cities along the border. If he brought money here, civic improvements across the state would follow.

Of course, in Pablo’s opinion, the legal route wasn’t always the most efficient. He didn’t much care which side of the law he stepped across; after all, legality was relative.

Relative, as in family. Relative, too, depending on one’s perspective.

Smiling at his own joke, Pablo walked to the locker room and extracted his cell phone from his gym bag. He punched numbers to check his messages.

“Hey, Pablo,” came the rasping voice of Camino, one of his two employees. “We found a kid who saw the little girl you’re looking for, hiding out in the orphanage in St. Teresa Colony. I’d check it out for you, but the governor’s got me tied up with a trip to the States this week. Don’t know what you want her for, but—”

The connection disintegrated, leaving Pablo scowling.

What was the good of paying people to work for you, if they were always leaving town? On the other hand, if Avila was out of the way, Pablo would have time to do something about the mess that brat had caused.

He still couldn’t believe he’d let her get away with the knife. Rage overtook him afresh, and he kicked the door of the closest locker. Scrawny little girl-child, worse than vermin. If only he’d caught her. He’d almost had her by the foot that night.

Well, it would be easy enough to take care of her at the orphanage. He’d kept an ear to the ground via a buddy in the Acuña police department. If he could get to the girl before she turned the knife in, everything would still be all right.

He calmed himself. He would take care of her.

Mercedes stepped out of the bathtub and let the beautiful American señora—Isabel—wrap her in a big fluffy towel. With delight she curled her toes into the deep pile of the yellow rug as Isabel pulled a second towel from a cabinet under the sink, then began to briskly rub Mercedes’s hair.

She had never seen a place this clean. She had never been this clean, head to toe, and she even had her own toothbrush with a cartoon character on the handle. Danilo had shared his toothpaste, and it tasted like bubble gum.

Mercedes realized Isabel was talking to her, so she watched her lips but couldn’t quite figure out what she said. Lupe had taught Mercedes a lot of English words, but she was going to have to work hard to catch up. She didn’t want to miss anything Isabel said.

Isabel suddenly smiled and drew her close, wet hair and all, and Mercedes leaned in to feel the pulse of laughter against her cheek. Then Isabel set her away a bit, both hands cupping Mercedes’s face, and said in careful Spanish, “I’m sorry, I forgot. Let’s find you some pajamas, then we’ll comb and dry your hair.”

With the towel clutched around her, Mercedes followed Isabel into Danilo’s room and watched her dig through a small chest of drawers. Pulling out a pair of colorful briefs, Isabel frowned and glanced at Mercedes. “Boy pants,” she said with clear dissatisfaction. “We’ll ask Eli to bring you some things tomorrow.” Then she brightened. “I can make you a nightgown. With lace.” Her eyes sparkled as she made a fluttering motion with her fingers, girl to girl.

Mercedes grinned and copied the gesture.

Oh, God had sent her to a place of richness. She had been frightened when Eli put her in the little blue car and backed away, making it clear he wasn’t coming. But he’d said he would visit and bring her a doll. Mercedes didn’t care so much about a doll, but if it came with Eli, then everything would be all right.

Isabel was engulfed by darkness. Standing high atop the apex of el puente negro, the old iron railroad bridge that arched across the Rio Grande, she knew that Piedras Negras lay to the south and Eagle Pass to the north. But with the city lights extinguished, she couldn’t tell up from down, right from left.

Fear made her fingertips tingle and her stomach lurch. If she stepped an inch in any direction she would plunge into the black water. Nothing to break her fall.

Then she saw a light, two lights approaching from the American side, swinging side-to-side as if looking for something. Rico. It had to be Rico and Jack, on patrol. Illegal aliens attempted to swim across here nearly every night.

But it was late. Rico should have been home an hour ago. Anger replaced her fear. She opened her mouth to call out. If she could get Rico’s attention, he’d get her down, and they could go home. Danilo missed his daddy reading a bedtime comic book story.

Her voice wouldn’t come out. Mute, she watched the lights reach the cane at the edge of the water.

Suddenly the silence was broken by gunshots. Popping and pinging with obscene rhythm. Clang on metal, thud into wood. One of the lights collapsed, splintered by the cane, doused in the water.

Isabel teetered on the bridge, unable to scream, terrified beyond expression. Sweat poured in streams between her breasts, soaking her nightgown, and tears dripped off her chin.

Rico was gone. If she’d just been able to tell him one more time how much she loved him, maybe he would have come home on time.

Baby, I’m sorry I was angry. I loved you so much.

Now he would never come home, and she was going to have to stand on this bridge alone forever.

She woke up with a start, covered in sweat.

Eli bent down to ruffle the ears of Isabel’s dog as he walked up her front porch steps. He’d just gotten off duty and hadn’t even been home yet, but he had to find out if Mercedes had communicated anything to Isabel during the last two days.

“Sit, Fonzie,” he said, snapping his fingers. The dog slurped Eli’s fingers one more time and obeyed, one eye cocked for potential treats. “Dude, you are no Lassie,” Eli told him as he knocked on the door.

The relaxing of Isabel’s shoulders when she opened the door and scanned him from head to toe made him glad he’d changed into civilian clothes before walking down the street to her house.

She smiled. “Eli. Hi, come in.” She looked beautiful as always, but there was a tired droop to her dark eyes.

“Hope my timing’s not bad,” he said, stepping into the tiny foyer.

“No, I’m just putting the kids to bed. Danilo’s in the tub.” She pushed a wavy lock of black hair behind her ear. “Did you come to check on Mercedes?”

“Not really,” he replied, following her into the den. “I know you’re taking good care of her. I was just wondering how, uh, communication’s going.”

“It’s amazing what you can do with hand motions.” Isabel hesitated. “Sit down, would you like something to drink?” she said in a rush as she headed for the kitchen.

“No, thanks, I just ate supper.” Eli looked around and decided the leather recliner looked more comfortable than the sofa. He plopped into it with a sigh.

Isabel turned and stopped. Barefoot, dressed in a pair of white shorts and a pink knit top, she looked about fifteen years old. In a long silence, color came and went in her cheeks.

Eli swallowed. What had he done wrong? “Are you ok-k-kay, Isabel?”

She took a sudden breath. “I’m fine. I’m just—” She laughed. “Never mind. Let me just check on Danilo. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the back of the house, leaving Eli scratching his head. “Maybe I should have asked for a root beer,” he muttered.

As a series of whalelike splashes came from the bathroom, he picked up an unfinished sampler lying on the lamp table. “This precious treasure” was all it said. Eli knew nothing about sewing, but even he could see that Isabel was a gifted needlewoman. Every stitch of the elaborate border was carefully executed, and the back side of the fabric was as neat as the front.

Suddenly he was aware of Mercedes standing in the doorway. Her damp hair hung in wavy hanks around her shoulders, and she had on a pink nightie with lace edging just brushing her bare feet. He smiled as the little toes curled.

When he crooked a finger, Mercedes sidled toward him. She came as far as Isabel’s mahogany rocker and sat down, where she continued to watch Eli with sober brown eyes.

Mercedes made the sign for woman, then pretty. She pantomimed sewing and brushed her hands down the front of her gown. Clearly she was proud of the garment.

“Isabel made it for you?” he guessed aloud. “Isabel?” he repeated slowly, as she watched his lips.

Mercedes nodded, beaming, and made the sign for beautiful again.

Eli grinned. “Oh, yeah. She is.”

He’d love to know what was going on behind Mercedes’s intelligent expression. He’d been using every spare minute to study an American Sign Language book he’d checked out of the library. This would be a good time to practice.

But before he could do more than ask Mercedes how old she was, and discover that she was seven, Isabel came back into the room with Danilo riding piggyback.

“Eli!” shouted the little boy. “Let’s play baseball!”

“Maybe next time, cowboy.” Eli glanced at Isabel. “It’s already dark outside.”

“You’re on your way to bed, Nilo,” said Isabel. “Tell Eli good-night.” She held out a hand to Mercedes. “You, too, sweetie.”

Mercedes let Isabel pull her to her feet. To Eli’s astonishment, the little girl blew him a kiss before heading for the bedrooms.

Isabel’s eyes widened, too, but she leaned over to let Danilo and Eli high-five over her shoulder. The subtle, spicy scent of roses, along with the sweetness of bubblegum toothpaste, gave Eli an odd, familiar pang from his childhood that made him wish he could kick the recliner back and stay indefinitely.

He suddenly understood Isabel’s flustered behavior when he’d sat down in the recliner. It must have been Rico’s favorite place. The husband chair. The daddy chair.

Eli jumped to his feet.