Rosa was a topless dancer in an adult night club. Her boss had a tough-as-nails reputation with his employees, but to his most popular dancers—Rosa was one of them—he would occasionally extend special favors. Miguel remembered that a couple years ago, Rosa was trying to get out of a relationship with a physically abusive man, and Eddie, her boss, let her hide out in a sleazy motel he owned in Dallas while his men tracked the guy down to give him a taste of his own medicine.
If she were there, Miss Carson and Mr. Johnson would be hard put to get the management to admit it, much less give them her room number. But what else were they going to do?
The teachers were looking at him expectantly.
He glanced at the guard, turned back toward the couple, lowered his voice. “How would you like to go on a field trip?”
CHAPTER 8
“From church to. . .this.” Sheila raised an eyebrow. “Remind me not to stay here the next time I visit Dallas.”
Hank followed her gaze to the dilapidated building just off Harry Hines Boulevard. Pale green paint was flaking off the siding in generous portions, exposing the bleak gray underneath. Several windows had been boarded up, and weeds grew around the perimeter in wild abandon. He was surprised that the neon sign flashing “MOTEL” had all its letters lit up.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said, “betcha even if you check in alone, you’d find company in your bed.”
Sheila gave him a disgusted look. “I would tell you what a horrible thing that is to say,” she said, “but I know the apartments most of our kids live in aren’t in much better shape.” She hugged her purse closer to her side, and shook her head.
Her face was lined with worry, and Hank had to resist an urge to put his arm around her. “Are you ready?”
She took a deep breath. “I can do all things through Christ.”
They went into the office. The lady at the desk looked to be in her mid-forties, her expression one of bored indifference. “Y’all need a room?” Her monotone reminded Hank of the early days of computerized voices.
He glanced at Sheila, but she averted her eyes.
“No, we’ve come on behalf of Miguel Manriquez.”
“Miguel who?”
Hank took out the note Miguel had written. “Rosa Manriquez’ brother. He’s in jail, and he wanted to see if she was here with his daughter, Diana.”
The woman took the note and read it without a flicker of recognition showing on her face. She returned the note. “Sorry. I have no idea who these people are.”
“Miguel thought you might say that.” Hank leaned against the desk in a casual manner and flashed her a smile. “He said to remind you of the Fourth of July volleyball game.”
Instantly, the woman’s countenance changed. Hank had no idea what it meant—Miguel had not offered an explanation, beyond that it would convince her that they had seen him—but it made her blush profusely.
“I’ll. . .let me. . .hold on,” she stammered, seeming to have lost her poise. She picked up the phone behind the desk and turned her back toward Hank and Sheila while she spoke in low tones. When she hung up, she said, “Room 117.”
* * *
The weather was warm for the first week of December, but that wasn’t the cause of Sheila’s sweaty palms as she stood with Hank in front of the greenish-gray door. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. If Diana’s aunt was feeling at all hostile toward them, she wouldn’t have given away her room number to them, would she have?
Maybe it was the prospect of finding Diana in some horrible living environment. Or worse, of not finding Diana there at all. What if Rosa had left her niece with someone else, without Miguel’s authorization or knowledge?
“Want me to knock?”
Sheila wiped her hands on her jeans. “No, it’s okay.” She took a deep breath and rapped on the door.
Seconds later, she stood face to face with the same woman who had practically dragged Diana out of the homeless shelter a week earlier. Rosa’s dark eyes were filled with trepidation, and her glance darted from Hank to Sheila to the space behind them, as if checking to make sure they were alone. For a long, nerve-wracking moment Sheila thought Rosa was going to slam the door in their faces.
Instead, she said in lightly accented English, “Come in. Quick.”
As Rosa closed the door behind them, Sheila scanned the room for Diana, easily spotting her on the floor next to the sink where she played with a rag doll and a stuffed bear.
Diana looked up, startled. “Teacher?” Holding the doll in her arms, she got up and made a move toward Sheila, all smiles. Then as though she’d run into an invisible wall, she halted, glancing toward Rosa. The beam on her face faded, and she sat back down on the boundary where the cracked linoleum next to the sink and the stained, faded carpet of the rest of the room met. Her eyes downcast, she muttered, “I—never mind.”
What has this woman been telling her? Diana had been ready to run to her and hug her, but obviously had had prior warning against any such greeting. Sheila felt a piercing stab of anger. Rosa must have told her some outrageous lie to get her to treat her teacher like that. Sheila knew better than to take it personally, but she did. If she was going to get anywhere with this woman, she had to keep her emotion from showing.
“I guess you can find a seat,” Rosa said, indicating the bed and two rickety chairs next to an equally shabby table.
Sheila sat in one of the chairs, forcing herself to smile, and Hank sat in the other. Rosa sat on the bed, facing them.
“I was going to tell Perla to tell you that I wasn’t here,” Rosa said, “but I know that you seen my brother, and it wouldn’t be no use.”
She was dressed similarly to how she had been on Thanksgiving, tight fitting jeans and a snug shirt that rode above her belly. Today she had on tennis shoes instead of spiked heels, and her jet-black hair hung loosely over her shoulders, framing a face of delicate, olive-complexioned features. She was definitely what they would call a knock-out.
Sheila couldn’t help but wonder what Hank must be thinking.
“I know it’s really none of my business,” she said, struggling to stay calm, “but I got worried when you ran off with Diana, and then she didn’t come back to school.”
Rosa looked down at her hands. “My job is not,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “how can I say it, the kind good girls have.”
Sheila swallowed down a gasp. So the apartment manager was right? Rosa was a prostitute? She glanced at Hank, who raised an eyebrow in reply.
“So I was very lucky they let me keep Diana for a couple of weeks. But when I lost the apartment, I was so afraid they would take her away, put her in foster care, you know?” Rosa raised her head, and twisted her neck to glimpse at Diana, who still sat staring at the floor. “She’s almost like a daughter to me. I would hate for anything to happen to her.”
Choked by the rising anger, Sheila struggled to speak. Rosa really believed Diana was better off. . .here? Watching her commit God-knows-what kind of sin in the name of making a living? She wanted to berate the woman for her ignorance, or selfishness, whichever the case was.
But she knew better than to speak her mind. She’d come to persuade her to return to the shelter, let Diana return to school, not to antagonize her.
“Your brother will be out in a few days,” she finally managed to say. “By the time the courts knew anything, she’d be back in his custody.”
Rosa frowned. “You think because I’m not as educated as you, I don’t think of such things.” She raised her voice, edged with offense. “You think I’m stupid and irrational, is that it?”
Sheila opened her mouth to respond, but Rosa continued, lifting an arm to thrust her finger at Sheila. “You’re the reason I ran. You found out that Diana was homeless, and you could have had the police on my trail like that.” She snapped her fingers inches away from Sheila’s face, then leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.
Sheila barely noticed Hank’s comfo
rting hand alighting on her shoulder. She sat in shocked silence for several seconds. Why had Rosa assumed she would call the authorities?
“I’m sure you have some reason for thinking that,” Sheila said, “but I never even considered it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is there any particular reason I should have?”
Rosa abruptly stood, then turned to face the wall above the dresser opposite the bed. Then she turned back, her expression resigned. “Most people don’t approve of my career choice. Including me, I might add. Dancing in a topless club—”
“You do that, too?” Hank asked the question that hung on the tip of Sheila’s tongue.
“Too?” Rosa’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s the only job I got. How many you think I can handle all at once?”
Sheila looked at Hank, but he averted his eyes and took his hand off her shoulder, the silent refusal to answer Rosa coming through loud and clear.
Sheila scowled. Thanks a lot. Turning back to Rosa, she began, “Well, when I first started looking for you, I talked to your apartment manager—”
“Oh, God. Let me guess. She told you I was a hooker.”
Sheila glanced at Diana, who had not moved, and appeared to be not hearing any of the conversation. Sheila knew better, and could only pray that she didn’t understand the vocabulary being used. “Not in so many words,” she said to Rosa, “but, basically, yeah, that’s what she meant.”
Rosa let out a long sigh, then dropped back down on the bed. “No wonder you were freaking out.” She lowered her voice again. “I ain’t no virgin, but I ain’t. . .that, either. And I sure wouldn’t expose a young child to anything like. . .that.”
Sheila felt relieved and embarrassed at the same time. “I. . .I’m so sorry about the misunderstanding. Still, I wouldn’t have tattled on you. I just wanted to help if I could.”
Rosa stared at her as a tense silence filled the room. “I don’t get it.” Her eyebrows scrunched downward in a skeptical glare. “Why do you care so much about Diana? Or do you always try to rescue your students from things that ain’t none of your business? Don’t got much of a social life, do you?”
“No, but I’ve got Jesus.” Where did that come from? No matter; it was said, and Sheila could only wait for a reaction. She felt Hank’s hand return to her shoulder, and she wondered if he was smiling. But she didn’t want to take her eyes off Rosa. To do so now would take away from the conviction of her words.
The skeptical expression became a startled one. Sheila waited for it to become angry, was surprised when it relaxed instead.
Finally, Rosa turned her body around toward the sink. “Diana, come say hello to your teacher.”
At first Diana hesitated, staring at her aunt with wide eyes. But when Rosa nodded her reassurance, Diana jumped up and ran to Sheila.
“Hello, Miss Carson,” she said, wrapping her arms around Sheila’s waist. Then she released her hold to hand her the doll. “This is Maria. She’s my mejor amiga in the world.”
Sheila took the proffered doll, blinking back tears. “Hello, Maria. So nice to meet you.” She turned to Rosa as Diana introduced the toy to Hank. “I’m not required to report a child’s guardian losing their housing, only suspected abuse or neglect.” She glanced at Diana and Hank, who was having a ridiculous conversation with the doll that had Diana in a fit of giggles. “She’s obviously being well-taken care of. But she needs to go to school.”
Rosa nodded, biting her lower lip, watching Diana interact with Hank for a few moments before she called the girl over to her. “Mami,” she said, lifting her up into her lap, “are you ready to go back to Miss Carson’s class?”
Diana’s face could have rivaled the Alaskan northern lights display. “Sí, Tía Rosa. Tomorrow?”
Rosa looked from Sheila to Hank. “I’ll need a ride getting back tonight. The same boyfriend that swindled me out of my rent money wrecked my car, too.”
Hank arose and gave a dramatic bow. “Cowboy Cab, at your service, madam.”
* * *
About fifteen minutes into the drive back to Fort Worth, Rosa said, “You two sure make a cute couple. How long have you known each other, anyway?”
Sheila glanced at Hank, who winked at her. Embarrassed, she twisted around to look at Rosa, sitting with Diana in the back seat. “We’re not. . .a couple. We just. . .we both teach at Roosevelt. Hank offered to help me. Find Diana.” With every word she felt more flustered, wishing she could crawl into the glove compartment. She didn’t know why; for Rosa to assume they were involved in some way was perfectly natural. They hadn’t bothered to clarify their relationship earlier.
Rosa gave her a smug smile. “Then you wouldn’t mind,” she said, tapping Hank’s shoulder, “if I invite him to come to the club where I work.”
Sheila grinned as Hank stammered a reply. “I—I’m a Christian man.” Was his face turning red?
“And?”
Yes, it is. He’s blushing! The realization instantly relieved Sheila of her discomfort.
“The Bible says not to forn—”
Sheila jabbed his right arm before he could finish the word, making the car weave slightly. “There’s a Kindergartner in the car, remember?” she asked him with a hoarse whisper.
“Honey, I know what the Bible says.” It was Rosa who now winked at Sheila as she continued addressing Hank in a seductive tone. “But even Christian men have needs, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t. . .I mean, the Lord—”
Then Sheila saw what Rosa was doing, coughed into her hand to cover up her laughter.
“Relax, honey,” Rosa said, “I’m just giving you a hard time.” Diana’s aunt sat back, and a shadow crossed her face. “If there were more men like you in the world, I might—never mind.”
The regret in her voice was unmistakable. She obviously wanted out of her lot in life. Sheila couldn’t let the opportunity pass by. She turned back to Rosa, her voice quiet as she began, “Jesus can—”
Rosa interrupted with a flurry of Spanish curse words. Diana looked up at her, startled. “I knew I shouldn’ta said nothing.” She spat out the words as if they left an offensive taste in her mouth. “Listen, I’ve heard it all before. Believe it or not, I’ve even prayed before. A lot of good it’s done me.”
“But if—”
“If there is a God, He obviously don’t want nothing to do with me, okay? If you can’t shut up about it, then leave me and Diana right here and we’ll hitchhike our way back.”
The lightened atmosphere of a few minutes earlier was now overcome by an invisible dark cloud. It’s gonna be a fun ride back now. I’m sorry if I missed You, Lord. She began to apologize to Rosa, but Diana beat her to the punch.
“But it did do good.”
Rosa’s reaction was as sharp as her look. “What?”
Diana did not even flinch. “I prayed. I asked God to help me get back to school. And He did.”
Rosa scowled at her niece for a long moment. Sheila hoped she wasn’t going to scold her or try to explain Diana’s experience away. But finally, Rosa shook her head, dropped her gaze to her lap, and didn’t speak for the rest of the trip.
* * *
The first thing Hank did after dropping Rosa and Diana off at the shelter was to leave a message at the jail for Miguel that his sister and daughter were back in Fort Worth. The second thing he did was notice a gnawing hunger in his stomach.
He looked at his watch. Six-fifteen? As usual, he’d lost track of the time, and he’d already missed the start of the Sunday evening service at his church.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he asked Sheila as they began driving away from the jail.
“Six-fourteen.”
She wasn’t even looking at her watch. Amazing.
“I’m late for church.” Not that that was anything new, although he did have to get there early most Sunday mornings for band practice.
“I’m going to miss my small group meeting.” She turned to Hank and smiled. “But fo
r once I don’t care.”
Hank gave her a sideways glance. Did she mean that she preferred being with him? Or that—
“Getting Diana back safely was more important.”
Shucks. He kept his voice cheerful to cover up his disappointment. “Why do you care, anyway?”
“What?”
“You never answered Rosa’s question.” He turned left at a light. “Why you care so much about Diana. You’ve known her, what, four months now?”
Sheila turned to gaze out the window and didn’t respond for a long time. Had he inadvertently offended her? He couldn’t see how he could have. Being referred to as a caring individual was usually considered a compliment. Maybe he’d phrased the question in a way that seemed intrusive. He reviewed his words in his mind, his tone of voice, but couldn’t figure it out.
He’d decided to let the matter drop, when she spoke. And when she did, he could hear the cold distance in her voice that signaled an end to the discussion.
“I told you,” she said, “I had safety concerns. That’s all.”
No, that wasn’t all, or else she wouldn’t have become so defensive about it. But Hank knew better than to pry. “Mind if I change to a subject near to my heart?” he asked. “My stomach.”
The joke might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Sheila shifted in her seat, the expression on her face remaining closed.
Hank resisted the urge to frown. He was missing something, something important, and it bothered him. Although he didn’t know why. He barely knew Sheila. Why should she trust him with every detail of her life?
“I was just wondering,” he ventured, “if you’d like to stop somewhere to eat.” He paused. “TGI Fridays, maybe.”
“No. I’d just rather go home.” Sheila turned and gave him a polite smile. “Thanks, though.”
They had spent the entire weekend together, looking for a lost child. They must have been cooped up in the car for a total of over three hours, and, until now, had spoken with the ease of two friends. The sudden change in Sheila’s manner didn’t fit. Yet as tempted as Hank felt to probe her about it, he knew it would most likely push her further away.