Chapter 7
Johnny and Roy changed their clothes in the locker room, their conversation strained. Johnny pulled his tee shirt over his head, leaving it untucked as he stuffed his dirty uniforms into his duffel bag.
"Something's not right, Roy. I'm tellin' ya, something's just not right," Johnny complained. "Why didn't he go home last night, huh?"
Roy rolled his eyes at his partner. "Maybe he's enjoying the peace and quiet of the outdoors," he said, waving his hand in front of him.
"Nu-uh," Johnny grunted, sitting down beside Roy on the bench. "Stoker NEVER does anything by chance. If he told the old man he'd be back yesterday, then that was his plan." He rubbed his nose with his finger, a habit he didn't even realize he had. "I gotta bad feelin' about this."
Roy stood up, collecting his personal belongings. He was growing tired of Johnny and Chet treating their engineer as if he were a teenager late for curfew. "Maybe he was at home and didn't feel like talking." He pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "There's no law that says he has to answer his phone."
"Nope," Johnny responded, his voice filled with anxiety. "He would've left his phone off the hook if he didn't want to be disturbed. It just kept ringin' and ringin' and ringin'. I'm tellin' ya, something's wrong."
"Well, maybe he'll answer Chet this morning," Roy said.
Chet pushed through the locker room door as if on cue. "Hey, fellas… He's still not answering his phone. I think we oughta just go on over there."
Johnny shot Roy a look as if to say 'I told you so.'
"For what?" Roy asked, his eyes widening in disbelief at what he was hearing. "He's not home!"
"I'll go with ya, Chet," Johnny offered. "You comin'?" He asked, looking back at his partner.
Roy huffed loudly. "I don't want to worry Joanne. Why don't the two of you go over there and check on him while I go home? If he isn't there and you want to go looking for him, then call me and I'll go with you."
"That'll work," Johnny stated, feeling energized by their plan.
"Right behind ya," Chet called out, following Johnny out of the locker room and across the back parking lot with Roy lagging behind them, his pace a little less hurried.
Marco exited Hank's office, having apologized to his supervisor for his outburst the day before. He had been grateful to his captain and all the crew for all they had done for him and his family. He just wished that Mike was available to hear his words of gratitude, as well. He owed his engineer a debt he could never repay.
Thoughts of Mike sent Marco's mind reeling. He couldn't believe the accusations Mike was now facing. He wanted to rush over to Mike's apartment to offer his support. However, he knew he needed to hurry to his mother's home. Today was the day Antonio was going to find out about his mother, and Marco needed to be there for his young nephew.
E!
On a Tehachapi plateau, Hiram watched as the three young men wearing navy blue uniforms that resembled surgical scrubs, loaded up the delivery truck with various plants. They had been blessed with obtaining several new clients recently. This kept his newest converts busy, and brought in some additional income for the group. His long brown hair flowed in the fall breeze, his white garments seeming to glow in the morning sun. He tugged at his beard, smiling at his followers.
"My sons, you have done well," he praised. "You will receive your reward very soon." He noted the dark circles beneath their eyes, their frames appearing thinner since they had arrived. He had achieved his goals with them, and he knew they were ready to be moved up in his organization. He couldn't afford to lose them. "When you return, report to the chapel," he said with a smile.
The three men looked at each other, subtle smiles appearing on their tired faces. Their sacrifices and hard work were going to be recognized. They were going to be given new garments, symbolic of their upward progress. They climbed into the cab of the white delivery truck with renewed energy.
Hiram raised both hands upward, closing his eyes and facing the sun. "Go in peace, minister in love, keep your faith."
"Amen," the three said in unison, as the driver cranked up the truck, and drove towards their first delivery of the day.
E!
Mike's parched throat created a coughing spasm that brought him out of his unconscious state. His lips were dry and his tongue felt sticky and swollen. The coughing was painful, but he was unable to stop it for several long moments.
"Ahua… Ah, aarrgh, ugh…" Mike struggled to collect his thoughts in his current condition. He felt like he was stuck in a sadistic nightmare, but the discomfort he was feeling made the situation all too real. He forced his eyes open, squinting from the pain the light caused him as it flickered across his face, and for the first time in his life he wished that he could close his eyes permanently. He no longer held out hope for rescue. Now, he just wanted to end his suffering, and death was the only way he knew to get out of the predicament he found himself in. "P'ease… Jus'… Lemme go…," he mumbled to any deity that might be listening.
A rumbling sound found its way into the crumpled cab of his pick-up. In his hazy mind, it sounded like the low-pitched growl of the mountain lion. Panic filled his soul, his heart slamming around inside his chest until the growl was replaced by the rushing sound in his ears. He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing his breathing to slow down. If the mountain lion was going to kill him, he certainly didn't want to see it coming. His fingers began to tingle and his mouth felt numb. He imagined the painful death that awaited him when the big cat finally managed to reach through the broken windshield, removing him limb by limb with her enormous claws.
"Guh, uh, ahua…" He continued to cough and gag, his respiration rate increasing as he fought with his own frayed nerves. As the rushing sound in his ears grew louder, he began to see sparkling dots floating before his eyes. He knew he was hyperventilating, but he was helpless to stop it. Slowly, the darkness that had been so merciful to him once again took over, ushering him back into the shadows of unconsciousness.
Inside the delivery truck, the three young men were discussing their upcoming promotions to the next level in the group. Suddenly, Eli saw an overturned vehicle down in a small ravine. "Hey," he shouted, pointing at the carnage. "Look!"
James stopped the delivery truck, turning on the emergency flashers even though the likelihood of another vehicle passing by was slim along the deserted road. "Someone may need our help."
The three men got out of the truck and carefully made their way down to the damaged pick-up. "Hello? Anybody here?"
As they rounded the edge of the vehicle, surveying the mangled mass of metal, James made a horrifying discovery. Trapped inside the vehicle was a man, his eyes closed and his body unmoving. "Oh no… Sir?" He called out, his voice sounding calm, belying the panic that was rising within his soul. "Sir, can you hear me?"
The other two men rushed to James, anxious to see the man to whom he spoke.
"Is he alive?" Ephraim asked, concerned by the appearance of the unconscious man. He felt the hand of his twin brother, Eli grasping his shoulder.
"I don't know. I can't reach him," James explained, kneeling down in the dirt trying to find a way to get inside the cab without cutting himself. "Go get me some gloves from the back of the truck," he ordered, continuing to call out to the man. "Sir? Hello? Can you hear me?"
Eli retrieved the requested work gloves and returned to the site of the wreckage. "Here," he said, thrusting a pair of gloves into the hands of Ephraim and handing another pair to James. "How are we going to get him out?"
"We aren't," James replied, flatly. "We're going to try to pull the windshield out enough so I can climb in. If he's alive, then we've got to call for help. We can't move him. We might cause him more harm."
"And if he's not alive?" Ephraim asked, already knowing the answer.
"Then we call it in as a DOA. But we don't leave him alone, either way," James explained, his medical training pushing to the surface of his memory. He had spent months as a medic in Vietnam, only to come home to a country he no longer recognized and a family who had abandoned him. He had found a place to belong with the Unity family, and he was finally beginning to feel human again. He sincerely hoped that the young man inside the wreckage was still alive. Being able to save a life again, for something other than to supply soldiers for a war he didn't agree with, would be a balm for his soul.
"Okay," Ephraim answered, pulling on the thick gloves, tossing his long blonde hair out of his eyes. "Let's see what we can do."
The three men worked at a feverish pace, pulling on the bent framework holding what was left of the windshield in place. With grunts and groans emitting from their fatigued bodies, they eventually pulled the windshield apart enough for James to crawl inside.
"Hey, sir?" He continued to call out, not wanting to startle the man if he were to regain consciousness. He reached down, pulling off his gloves and using his bare hand to check for a carotid pulse. When he felt the rapid weak thumping beneath his fingers, he silently sent up a prayer of thanks. "He's alive."
Eli stepped back in shock. The man looked more dead than alive. "Wha-What do we do?"
James looked over at the frightened young man. "Eli, go get the canteens from the truck, and bring any rags that you can find." He then turned to Ephraim. "Do you think you can drive the truck back to the compound? Hiram needs to know what we've found. He has to call this in to the authorities. Tell him this man is near death and must be given medical treatment as soon as possible. Can you do that?"
"Y-yes," Ephraim responded, looking around him and seeing that his twin was already removing the requested items from their truck.
"Good, now go," James directed, gratefully acknowledging Eli when he brought back two canteens of water and a handful of pieces of cloth. He immediately turned his attention to his victim. "Alright… It's going to be alright," he soothed, not knowing if his words were being heard or not.
Mike Stoker fought the inky darkness, trying to find his way out of the mire that held him down. He was hearing voices, but wasn't able to discern what the voices were saying. He remembered the rumbling growl of the mountain lion, and his pulse and respiration rates spiked. This was it. Death was near. When he felt something brush along his neck, he gasped. Was it the lioness closing in for the kill? He knew they often used their jaws to clamp down on the neck of their prey, cutting off the supply of oxygen until the helpless victim suffocated. Was that what he was now? Nothing more than prey for the predator? His mind began to play tricks on him, allowing him to feel a gentle coolness against his burning hot skin.
"Ungh," he groaned, his heavy right arm shifting upwards slightly in a valiant attempt to fight off his attacker.
"It's okay, mister. I'm with you, just relax. Help is on the way," James soothed, hoping to keep the semiconscious man as calm and still as possible. He had no way of knowing if his victim had a neck or back injury and he had nothing to use for spinal precautions. He shifted his position in the cramped space, using his leg to limit the space for Mike to move his arm. He didn't want to hold him down, only subdue his movements to prevent further injury.
"Gah," Mike continued to slowly climb his way out of the abyss he had been in for hours. "Uh… Um," he croaked out, smacking his dry lips together. Then the most blissful feeling he had ever known gently touched his lips.
James poured some of the cool water out of one of the canteens onto a piece of cloth. In an act of pure compassion, he carefully laid the strip of cloth across Mike's cracked lips. "Easy, mister. You're not alone. I'm with you. You've been found," he spoke softly, continuing to do everything he could to keep Mike calm. He wet a second cloth, using it to wipe Mike's face, hoping the coolness might stimulate him enough to fully awaken.
"Mmm," Mike hummed against the cool damp cloth. He tried to move his head, but found it being held firmly in place. "Muungh."
James held onto the man's head, trying to keep him from further harming himself if he had sustained a neck injury. "Just take it easy. We'll get you out of here. Just try not to move," he continued to use his voice to reassure his victim. As he continued to bathe Mike's hot face, he was rewarded when Mike slowly opened his blood-shot blue eyes.
Mike's vision was blurry, and he was unable to focus on the image in front of him. All he knew was that someone was with him. He was no longer alone. The burning had been replaced by coolness on his face, and the dryness had been replaced by dampness on his lips. As he continued to force his eyes open, he realized that he was looking at someone's face. The image was silhouetted by the morning sun, forming a bright golden disc around the man's head. His hair was long, and he wore a beard. He appeared to be the image of the Biblical Jesus Mike had been taught about as a child, complete with a halo. Peace began to flood Mike's heart. He assumed he was dead, or close to it, and he had found favor with God. He wanted to cry out his gratitude that he was being escorted to heaven.
"Je… Sa, ugh," he grunted, trying to speak past the cloth covering his lips. "Wuh… Wa…"
James saw that the man was struggling to speak, and new he was most likely begging for water. He could tell that his victim had been trapped for many hours, if not days, and knew that he was in dire need of hydration. Yet, he didn't want to risk moving his neck and paralyzing him.
"I know you're thirsty, but I can't risk a neck injury by holding your head up for you to drink. It could make you nauseated and I don't want you to vomit or start dry heaving. That could injure you, too. I'm going to try to get a few drops into your mouth with my fingers."
"Ah," Mike moaned in response, pain in his left shoulder telling him he was definitely not dead.. He wasn't sure what his rescuer had said, but he could tell by his voice that he was kind. He relaxed, no longer afraid of what was happening to him. He felt the first cool drops of water pooling into the corner of his mouth. He parted his lips slightly, enough to allow the tiny amount of water to enter. Nothing had ever felt as pleasurable. Again, a few more drops found their way inside his slightly open mouth, and he closed it back to keep the precious moisture inside. He had not yet collected enough to swallow, but the wetness felt divine on his tongue. Drop by precious drop the ministrations continued. Mike had never felt as vulnerable, weak, or as needy as he felt while the kindness of a stranger met his most basic human needs, needs he could not meet for himself for the first time in thirty-four years.
E!
Chet and Johnny pulled into the parking lot at Mike's apartment. Immediately, they both noticed that his truck was not there.
Johnny slammed the door of his Rover shut, squinting his eyes in the morning sun as he looked around. Chet exited his vehicle, noticing Johnny's frustrated look.
"I don't see it," Chet called out, stepping in stride with his friend as they walked up the sidewalk to Mike's apartment.
"Yea, I know." Johnny planted a hand on his hip, using the other to knock on Mike's door. He heard no sounds coming from inside the apartment so he pounded even harder the second time.
"You fellas were here the other night, right?"
Both firemen turned around, facing the same elderly man who had informed them of Mike's impromptu camping trip.
"Yes, sir. Have you seen Mike around?" Johnny asked.
"No… Got me kinda worried. Mr. Stoker always helps me get the garbage to the dumpster for the older residents. He wasn't here to do it this morning even though he wasn't working. He always helps me when he isn't on shift. You boys don't think there's something wrong, do you?"
Chet and Johnny exchanged looks.
"Uh, we sure hope not," Chet replied.
"Did he say where he was going camping?" Johnny questioned, already fearing the worst. He knew that he and his friends needed to go looking for Mike, but they had no idea where he may have gone.
The old man scratched his head, leaving a tiny tuft of silver hair sticking up along the side near his bald spot. "Um, let me see," he pondered, staring at the ground. "No… No, I don't believe he said 'xactly where. Just said he'd be back on Monday, but… Today's Tuesday, right?"
"Yes, sir," both firemen said in unison.
"Well, he should've been back yesterday," the old man complained. "I hope he's alright."
"So do we," Johnny commented. He ran a worried hand through his hair, looking back at Chet then returning his attention back to the old man. "Do you remember what he carried with him?"
"Oh, let's see. He had a green sleeping bag all rolled up, a big ice chest, some metal poles, I believe…"
"Poles? Like for a tent?" Johnny clarified.
"Yea… Yea, I think they could've been tent poles," the older man concluded.
Johnny tapped Chet's chest with the back of his hand. "He usually sleeps on an air mattress in the bed of his truck. Only a couple of spots I know of where he'd go with his tent. C'mon, let's go get Roy. We've gotta make a road trip." Johnny loped back toward his Rover, leaving Chet to thank the elderly gentleman before he followed his friend back to the parking lot.
"Uh, thank you, sir," Chet tossed over his shoulder.
Johnny jumped into his Rover. "C'mon, climb in. We'll go pick up Roy and head to Tehachapi. That's the closest place he might go. I wanna check there first before we head further north."
Chet did as Johnny asked, locking his van up then climbing into the passenger's seat of the white vehicle. He had barely closed his door when Johnny peeled out of the parking lot.
"Damn, Gage… Slow down. We can't find him if we're in an accident," Chet complained, holding onto the door handle. "Besides, what's at Tehachapi?"
"Beautiful landscape, quiet nights… And a lotta solitude… Oh, and poisonous vermin."
Chet rolled his eyes, clutching his head in his hands. "Shit! Shit! Shit! I can't handle another snakebite. I just can't!"
Johnny felt a connection with Chet that he hadn't felt in a long time. He remembered how the lineman had used the venom extractor to pull as much of the poison as he could out of Johnny's leg wound when he had been bitten by a rattlesnake while at an accident scene. Roy had told him later how worried Chet had been, how worried they had all been, thinking that Johnny may not survive. Now, he was just as worried about Mike, although he didn't know the exact circumstances of his engineer's delayed return to his apartment. All he knew was that Mike Stoker was never late for anything, just like Captain Stanley had mentioned last shift. Now, not only was he overdue to return, but he had not assisted his landlord in an activity he normally completed. That could only mean one thing: Mike was in trouble.
E!
Marco walked into his mother's house, smelling the scent of breakfast. "Mama? I'm home," he called out.
"Meeko!" A child's voice shouted just ahead of a rush of energy that landed in Marco's arms.
"Hello, Ant," Marco said with a grin. "Where's your grandma?"
"Grandma is putting breakfast on the table," Maria called out, drying her nervous hands on her apron. Beverly had already called to confirm the appointment at 9:00 o'clock. That meant she only had a few minutes to get her boys fed and the dishes cleaned up.
"Good morning, Mama," Marco said softly, walking into the kitchen and planting a light kiss on Maria's cheek.
Maria smiled, accepting the loving gesture then finished placing the food on the table. She pulled out her usual chair, taking a seat while Marco and Antonio seated themselves. "Ant, do you want to say grace?"
The dark-eyed child vehemently shook his head. He hadn't prayed out loud since he and Corrie had had their conversation at the Desoto residence about asking Santa Claus to bring them parents with their toys for Christmas. He had decided to try asking God instead, remembering all that his grandmother had spent the last four years teaching him about faith in God. In his own way, he figured that if he silently prayed for a mommy while his uncle or grandmother prayed out loud for their food to be blessed, then maybe his silent child's prayer would get attached to the adult prayer. That way, when God blessed the food, then His blessing would grant Antonio's request, too. It seemed logical to his four year-old brain. He bowed his head, listening for Marco to start the prayer. As his uncle's voice recited the familiar prayer, Antonio silently begged God to give him what he most desired: A mommy and a daddy.
E!
At The Wellhouse, Beverly sat in her office offering a box of tissue to her newest client. Her own heart was breaking as she saw the myriad of emotions playing out on Alexia's face. She knew the young woman was nervous, unsure of what the next few hours might bring. They had no way of knowing how Antonio might react to the news of his mother wanting to return to him. Beverly sat patiently, waiting for Alexia to gather herself enough to finish their conversation.
"I-I can't…believe…it's hap'ning," she sobbed, wiping her nose with the tissue. Her eyes were swollen from all the crying she had done since finding out that today might be the day she met her son.
Beverly placed her arm gently across Alexia's shoulders. "You've got to prepare yourself for disappointment, Alexia. He might be afraid of you at first. We don't even know if he'll want to see you today."
Alexia closed her eyes, forcing out the tears that had pooled in the corners. "I un-understand," she hiccupped. "But at least I'll know." She opened her brown eyes, staring deeply into the green eyes of her counselor. "Beverly, I've been living with disappointment for five years. I can… I can take it a little longer if I have to. Antonio can have all the time…," she hesitated, swallowing the lump that was rising in her throat. "Um, all the time he needs. All I want is the chance, and today you're giving me that chance. Thank you," she cried out, leaning against Beverly's shoulder. "Thank you so much."
Beverly looked at the clock, realizing she had to leave now or else she would be late for her appointment at the Lopez home. "Alright, we'll talk as soon as I get back," she said, offering the nervous young woman a soft smile.
Alexia nodded gratefully, watching as Beverly collected her purse and portfolio then walked out of the facility. Alexia quietly headed for her bedroom, unsure of what to do with herself while she waited on the outcome of the meeting. It was her turn to cook lunch, but it was still too early to start the preparations. She was walking down the hallway when the house phone began to ring. Quickly, she walked over to it and answered.
"Hello, Wellhouse."
The distinctly male voice of the caller caught Alexia off guard.
"Yes, I'm looking for a Miss Alexia Lopez."
Terror shot through Alexia's chest, robbing her of her breath for a moment. "Ug, um... Th-this is Miss Lopez. Who's calling?"
"My name is Sam Bennett. I'm investigating your apartment fire. We believe it was arson. I'd really like to interview you, if you don't mind. It's very important to the case."
Alexia felt the room tilt, and she leaned against the wall for support. Never had she considered that she would be a part of an arson investigation. She had already been interviewed by the police for the assault incident, but nothing had been mentioned about arson. She looked around, realizing that no one was available to help her make this decision. She knew the rules of the facility, no visitors without the approval of the staff. Did that include investigators? She wasn't sure.
"Miss? Are you still there?"
Alexia jumped at the sound of the investigator's voice, knowing she needed to give him an answer. "Um, I-I'll have to call you back. I have to ask permission before… How did you know I was here?" She asked, suddenly feeling paranoid about being found by one of Ricardo's cronies.
"I apologize, Miss Lopez. I should've explained. I contacted Dr. Kelly Brackett at Rampart General Hospital. He was your attending physician while you were hospitalized, and…"
"I know who Dr. Brackett is," Alexia interrupted, feeling a bit of her old street-wise spunk returning.
"Yes… Of course you do," Sam mumbled, chiding himself. "Um, why don't you call Rampart and ask to speak with him. He'll be glad to explain to you that I am who I say I am. Then if you can get permission to meet with me, I'd really like to interview you about the fire."
Alexia felt herself relaxing, breathing deeply before responding. She knew that if this man was asking her to contact Dr. Brackett then he wasn't affiliated with Ricardo. Dr. Brackett would have checked him out thoroughly before telling him where she had gone and how to reach her. She trusted Dr. Brackett completely. "Okay… Give me your telephone number and I'll call you back once I've confirmed all of this with Dr. Brackett and gotten permission to meet with you."
"Fair enough. Thank you, Miss Lopez. My number is 555-5664 and my name is Sam Bennett," he repeated.
"Alright, I've got it," Alexia stated, using the pencil and pad beside the phone to take down the message. "I'll, ah… I'll call you back, soon."
"Thank you. Good-bye," Sam offered, hanging up the telephone.
Alexia heard the clicking sound on the other end of the line. Slowly, she hung up the house phone, her eyes unfocused as she considered the possibilities of why the investigator might want to talk to her. She sat still, remembering how Ricardo had turned on the stove, heating up the metal end of the weapon he had used to beat her. Had he left the stove on? She couldn't remember. The only thing she could remember clearly was seeing Michael's truck drive beneath her window, and her nearly silent cry for help. He had saved her life that night, and again she wondered where he was now. Why had he seemed so concerned about her before the fire, only to abandon her afterwards?
E!
Beverly drove into the Lopez' driveway, getting out of her car and hurrying up the steps to the front door. She could hear the laughter of a small child and wondered if perhaps the joyous sounds were those of Antonio Lopez. She shifted her purse onto her shoulder and knocked firmly on the door.
Maria felt her heart flutter at the sound of the knock. She glanced at Marco with a knowing look.
"I'll get it, Mama," Marco replied, knowing that his mother was extremely nervous about this meeting. When he opened the door, he felt his heart skip a beat. Beverly stood before him, smiling in a way that lit up her whole face. "Good morning," he said, flashing her a bright smile.
"Hello, is everyone here?" She asked, passing by Marco as he held open the door for her.
"Yes… Mama and Ant are in the living room. Please follow me," he requested.
"Good morning, Ms. Lopez," Beverly greeted as she entered the room and took a seat. She saw the dark-haired child look up at her from his place on the floor. He had made a barn out of the braided rug on the floor, creating a sort of cave for his farm animals. "And you must be Antonio."
"Yes, what's your name?" The inquisitive child asked, not intimidated in the least by the pretty stranger.
Beverly snickered, cutting her eyes at Maria and Marco with a smile. "My name is Beverly. I'm a friend of your grandma and your uncle."
The inquisitive little boy looked back at his uncle, seeing how he was looking at their pretty female guest. He quickly turned back around to Beverly with a sheepish grin. "Are you Meeko's girlfriend?"
Marco felt like crawling beneath the ripple in the braided rug, wanting to hide out in the small cave rather than face Beverly Marsh after Antonio's question. He felt the hot flush coloring his face, and wished he had a way to hide his embarrassment. He opened his mouth to give a denial, but Beverly spoke first.
"Well, let's see. I'm a girl. And I'm a friend of Marco's. So… Why don't we just leave it at that for now, okay?" She could see Marco shifting uncomfortably in his seat. A thought briefly flitted through her mind as she wondered what it would be like to be Marco's girlfriend. Yet, she didn't allow the thought to linger, knowing that no man as nice and respectable as Marco Lopez would ever even consider offering her his companionship, certainly not a romantic relationship. Her past had marred her for life, leaving behind both physical scars as well as emotional ones. Who would want a former prostitute as a girlfriend? She tamped down the negative thoughts, knowing that the purpose of her visit was not to discuss her friendship with Marco. It was to introduce the idea of a long lost mother to the young boy standing near her, leaning his elbows against the arm of the chair in which she sat.
"Ms. Marsh wants to talk to you about something really important, Ant," Maria explained.
"Ant, will you show me your farm animals?" Beverly asked, suddenly thinking of a way to reach the child on his level. When the little boy nodded his head enthusiastically, Beverly set her purse and portfolio down on the coffee table. She sat down on the floor beside the happy child. "Okay, tell me who all of these animals are."
For several minutes Antonio proudly told Beverly what kind of animal each plastic figure represented. They discussed how high horses could jump and what pigs liked to eat. Antonio told her how the cows gave them milk to drink, surmising that they must own a milk store inside the barn. Beverly tried not to laugh at his assumptions, glad he hadn't asked her to explain exactly where the milk came from. When they eventually made their way to the tiny flock of chickens, Beverly knew she had to get to the point.
"Okay, I see that these are the chicks," she said, pointing to the three tiny yellow birds on top of the makeshift barn. "But who is this?"
Antonio looked at the hen, then slapped his forehead with his open palm. "That's the Mama chicken. You don't know very much about farms, do you?"
"Antonio Lopez!" Maria scolded, ashamed of how her grandson was behaving with their guest. She saw the look Marco was giving her and suddenly realized that Beverly had carefully orchestrated the entire conversation, unfazed by Antonio's comment. She knew that Marco understood and saw the look of amazement in his eyes.
Beverly laughed at Antonio's antics, waving off Maria's attempt at correction. "No, I don't know much about farm animals. That's why I'm asking you. So, this is the Mama chicken, huh?"
"Yes," he responded, moving the hen beside her chicks.
"And what do Mama chickens do?" Beverly asked, hoping to open the dialogue between them.
"They take care of their chicks. They cook them breakfast, and read bedtime stories to them, and…"
"Ooohhh, just like people Mamas do, right?" Beverly asked, hoping that her young client was making the connection in his four year-old brain.
She saw the shadow that crossed his small face as he sadly nodded. This was her opening and she didn't hesitate. "Antonio, can you look at me for a minute?" She waited for him to look up before she continued. "I know you think that you don't have a Mama, but you do."
Antonio drew his eyebrows together, perplexed by Beverly's statement. "No, I don't."
Beverly chose her words very carefully. "Yes, sweetheart. You do have a Mama. She's been sick for a long time. That's why you don't remember her. But she's feeling much better now, and she might be able to come home soon. What do you think about that?"
Maria wiped the tears from her eyes. She held her breath as she waited for Antonio's response to this new information he was learning about his mother. Would he be accepting? Would he reject her? Maria felt Marco grasp her hand, squeezing it gently as they waited for the young boy to answer the question Beverly had posed.
"I got a real Mama? A real people Mama just like Corrie?" He asked, struggling to fully comprehend what he was hearing.
Beverly looked over the two Lopez adults. She didn't know who Corrie was, but was encouraged by Marco's affirmative nod. "Yes, and your Mama loves you more than anything in the world," Beverly added, hoping she was reaching Antonio in a way that he understood. She glanced up at the other two adults in the room, seeing the worried looks on their faces. This was the moment of truth for all of them. This would determine how soon they could be reunited as a family. Beverly felt their anxiety, heard the faint gasp from Maria as Antonio looked up at Beverly with sincerity in his tiny voice.
"I love her, too. When will she come play with me?"
E!
