The Paper Swan(32)

Every day after that, the little girl looked out for Esteban. She refused to fall asleep until he’d climbed through her window.

Ban turned to Eban.

And Eban turned to Teban.

And Teban turned to Esteban.

Esteban had started coming for MaMaLu, but now he came for Skye. As the years passed, their friendship grew. He taught her how to make kites out of newspaper and broomsticks, and she introduced him to the CDs her father got for her when he went to the States. When they listened to “Drops of Jupiter”, the sun was shining in Skye’s hair and Esteban thought Jupiter must be made of the palest gold. Sometimes he imagined whole galaxies fitting inside the necklace she wore.

When Esteban watched Warren Sedgewick with Skye, he wondered what it would be like to have a father. He hoped MaMaLu did not marry Victor Madera, who sneaked in when they thought he had gone to sleep. Those nights, MaMaLu pulled the makeshift partition in their room. He couldn’t see through the heavy fabric, but he could hear them, and he hated the greedy, heavy sounds that Victor made. Esteban always knew when Victor was going to visit, because MaMaLu did not sing that whole day.

One night, MaMaLu and Victor had a fight, and MaMaLu threw him out. He showed up the next night with white lilies in a terracotta pot.

“Marry me, Maria Luisa,” he said. He insisted on calling her Maria Luisa because he couldn’t stand the thought of her being Esteban’s MaMaLu, or of another man touching her.

MaMaLu didn’t reply. She started closing the door on his face.

“So this is what it’s come to?” He jammed his foot in the door. “Have you forgotten who rescued you from Fernando, who got you this job and a place for you and your son?”

“That was years ago, Victor. I’ve been paying my dues ever since. I’m done. I want nothing more to do with you.”

Victor forced the door open and flung the flowers away. MaMaLu stumbled back, stepping on mud and fallen lilies.

“You think you’re too good for me, don’t you?” Victor sneered. “Have you told your son that he’s a bastard?”

MaMaLu gasped.

“You think I didn’t know? Oh yes. Fernando told me. Esteban’s father didn’t die in a fishing accident. He took off while you were planning your little wedding. He wanted nothing to do with you or your bastard baby. I’m giving you a chance to reclaim your honor. You should be grateful I’m willing to give the boy my name.”

“He doesn’t need your name. And neither do I. I’d rather live with no honor than take the name of a man who trades lives for money.”

“I’m a bodyguard. I defend people.”

“Then where were you when Adriana Sedgewick was shot? You were supposed to be with her. It seems rather convenient that you got called away when you did. In fact, I would bet—”

“Shut up!” Victor grabbed MaMaLu by the neck and shook her until she was gasping.

Esteban shot out of bed and launched at him. He rammed his head into Victor’s stomach and knocked the wind out of him. “Let her go!”

But Victor was much stronger. He let go of MaMaLu as he held Esteban at bay. Esteban kicked and punched in the air before Victor tossed him to the floor.

“You’re going to regret this.” Victor pointed his finger at MaMaLu. His voice was cold and hard.

“Get out,” said MaMaLu. “Get out before I call Se?or Sedgewick.”

Victor spat at her feet and turned on his heel. MaMaLu stood tall and straight until he was gone. Then she rushed to Esteban’s side. “Are you all right, cari?o?”

Esteban swallowed the lump in his throat. “Is it true what he said? My father didn’t die? He just . . . left? He never wanted me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Esteban. It was mine. I was young and foolish. I thought he loved me.”

For as long as Esteban could remember, MaMaLu had been a fighter. She was proud and strong, and she never cried. But now big, fat tears quivered on the brink of her lashes. She held them back as long as she could, but when she blinked, they left wet trails down her cheeks.

And then MaMaLu wept—odd, stilted sobs that tore Esteban to pieces. He hadn’t been able to defend her. He didn’t know how to comfort her. So Esteban did the only thing that comforted him. He put her head on his lap and he sang to her.



Ay, yai, yai, yai,

Sing and do not cry . . .





ESTEBAN GOT INTO A LOT of trouble after that. He stayed late at the village, watching good guys fight bad guys in the first of the many western movies that he grew to love. He was Blondie, the professional gunslinger in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, except he wasn’t out to earn a few dollars. He was the hard-ass who would come to MaMaLu’s defense. There was just one problem. When he got home, he was the one that needed defending. From MaMaLu.