The Same Sky(34)

I shook my head to clear it. Lainey was waiting. “Gosh, who knows?” I said. “Holidays, you know?”

We did, in fact, visit Lockhart every year for the holidays, but pretty much avoided Jake’s family otherwise. He had let them down by marrying me. What on earth was there to say?





25




Carla


THE MOON WAS the same, which seemed impossible. Although I was violated, broken—although the world as I had known it was gone—the blanket of light over our bodies as the train rushed forward was identical to the glow that had bathed me moments before, when I believed God was protecting me.

I arranged my clothing and sat up. No one said a word, as if we could will my rape away if we never spoke of it. We were afraid. The train moved fast and noisily. The hours, then days, dragged along. It was hot. We were thirsty. Every time the train slowed, bad people climbed aboard, and did what they wanted with us and to us. After a few days, we had little left—the men (and they were always men—or boys, some as young as Ernesto) took our water, our blankets, our clothes. We were treated as nothing, as bodies atop a train. I saw a child fall to his death. I saw a man’s leg crushed when the train rolled over him. I saw things I don’t want to repeat and don’t want to think about.

By the time la migra caught me, it was a relief.





26




Alice


WE DROVE TO Jake’s parents’ house, a large brick colonial with Romanesque columns flanking the front door. Winifred, who had designed the house herself, said the style was “neo-eclectic.” We parked, and when Jake opened the door to let me and Pete out, I smelled smoke. It seemed Collin had been up early (or late) working in his own pit. “Do you smell what I smell?” I said to Jake.

“Yup,” said Jake. “Guess he’s strutting his stuff.”

I smiled, kissed Jake on his stubbled cheek. “What did you expect?” I said.

“I guess I’d hoped …,” said Jake.

“That you’d get the spotlight? Honey, please.”

“Right, I know you’re right,” said Jake. Lainey hovered nearby, pretending not to eavesdrop. “Off the record, obviously,” said Jake, and she nodded, murmuring apologies but not turning off her recorder.

Jake’s parents were superstars. Of course, they weren’t going to let a Bon Appétit magazine article pass them by. Winifred answered the door with a wide smile, ushering Lainey inside with a sweep of her plump arm, squinting to locate a photographer who was not in attendance. (They would send someone for photos later, we’d been told, after Lainey’s story had been written and approved.) Winifred wore a red strapless dress and snakeskin boots, her hair piled high in a style I hadn’t seen before. (I had, however, spotted her hairstylist, Betty, driving away from the house as we pulled in. Betty was brought in to style my hair on occasion, as Winifred wasn’t a fan of my “clumpy ponytail look,” as she called it.)

“Welcome,” said Winifred. “Bon Appétit! I declare! We subscribe.”

“That’s great,” said Lainey. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Oh, pish,” said Winifred. “Fried deviled egg? Bloody Mary?” Before we had answered, Lupita and her daughter Chandra appeared in their uniforms, bearing silver trays. “Hope you don’t mind,” said Winifred. “We’ve invited a few close chums to brunch.”

Jake sighed, but Lainey seemed enthusiastic. She held out her recorder and followed Winifred into the dining room, which was filled with Lockhart celebrities and (it seemed) the entire Lockhart Lions football team in uniform. Lupita handed me a fried deviled egg and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry about the baby,” she said. Tears sprang to my eyes, and she pulled me into a floral-scented hug, then pushed a Bloody Mary into my free hand. Lupita had been with Jake’s family since he was a child; Winifred had hired her during a Cancún vacation and had liked having a nanny so much, she’d arranged to bring sixteen-year-old Lupita back to Lockhart at the end of their trip. I’d never asked the details, but Lupita had moved into the Conroe manse, freeing Winifred up to plan events and play tennis. Jake loved Lupita like a mother. (In this case, maybe even more than a mother. Or equally, for certain.)

Lupita had left a boyfriend behind in Cancún, and when she told the Conroes she wanted to go back and marry him, they (somehow) brought Jesus to Texas as well. A talented farmer, Jesus was tasked with growing all the vegetables needed for Harrison’s side dishes. Eventually he was hired by Lone Wolf, too, and after a long career, he had recently retired and taken up topiary gardening.

Lupita, Jesus, and their children lived next door to the Conroes in a miniature version of the columned brick home, and Jesus created whimsical hedges all over town. A Jesus Melendez garden was much prized among Lockhart society, Winifred told Lainey, leading her past the dining table to the backyard, where Jake’s father, Collin, was smoking meat alongside the Noah’s Ark topiary. “And he just this week added the baby pandas,” Winifred said into Lainey’s recorder. “Can you see them? Right next to the giraffes? It’s hell to keep them watered in the summer, but you do what you have to do for art, know what I mean?”

“Stupendous,” proclaimed Lainey.