“I’ll just bet she’ll explain! She goes out with this guy like it’s a big secret, can’t tell me where she’s going or who with, just brings Rock over here like I’m some kind of paid babysitting service!”
Joetriedto talk to him. “Maybe she had a reason for not telling you, maybe she was in a hurry and didn’t want to take time to explain. Why don’t you�”
“Why don’t Iwhat}” Clyde didn’t pet Rock, didn’t let him in the house. He shut the door in Rock’s face, and fastened the cover over the big dog door, leaving the Rock alone in the patio, looking hurt indeed. When Joe peered down at him through the kitchen window, Rock looked up at him, devastated. Never before had Clyde shut him out. His yellow eyes were incredibly sad, his ears down, his short tail tucked under in misery.
That wasn’t like Clyde, to be mean to a dog. Clyde loved Rock. Incensed at Clyde’s unfair attitude, Joe waited until Clyde had settled down in the living room with a book, then slipped out to the kitchen, slid the cover of the dog door open a few inches, and went out to snuggle down with Rock on his big, cedar-stuffed bed. Sighing, Rock laid his head over Joe, badly needing sympathy. It wasn’t Rock’s fault that Ryan had gone out with someone else when Clyde didn’t call her, Joe thought indignantly. Nor was it Rock’s fault that Clyde had let Chichi make an ass of him in front of Ryan.
19 [��������: pic_20.jpg]
Maria was bringing the newspaper in for Luis, before she put his eggs on, when she stopped in the doorway to sound out the English headlines. The words made her feel weak. She leaned against the door, her heart starting to pound. Dufio was in jail. Again. Oh, poor Dufio. That was why Luis was so angry last night.
Dufio was always getting arrested. And every time, it made her feel worse.
Closing the front door she headed down the hall for the kitchen, slowly reading the front page, frowning over the words. She wished she hadn’t had to go to a bilingual school, that they’d made her learn English better. Luis said she didn’t need English, except kitchen words. He’d never wanted her to learn anything.
She could make out, in the paper, enough about last night’s burglary to know they had stolen jewels worth more than a hundred thousand dollars American. That would be a huge fortune to a family in Mexico, enough to keep cousins and uncles and all the children for the rest of their lives. The police had spotted two of the cars, but Luis didn’t have any identification on them, just the stolen plates. Luis had been real mad when they came in last night, maybe because Dufio let the cops get him. She hadn’t been able to hear much from her bedroom, they’d had the kitchen door closed. Whatever happened now, there would be trouble. She wished she had the nerve to run, before the police came. Take Abuela away now. Run away now.
But where would they go? Abuela was an old woman, she was slow and she wore out easily, even when she was in the wheelchair. And wherever they went, Luis would find them.
She wouldn’t have the heart to leave those poor cats behind, in that cage. She would have to free them, too. And she didn’t have the key. Maybe theywereonly dumb beasts. In Mexico, people would laugh at her. But she didn’t think she could leave those helpless cats to Luis. She wished she had the nerve to take the key from Luis’s pocket while he slept.
But even if she could, he’d know she did it, and his beatings hurt bad. It didn’t matter that she was his sister. To Luis, women were for cooking and beating and for the bed. Though even Luis wouldn’t do that with his sister.
Well, he did keep the others off her. Even if he didn’t go to mass anymore, Luis knew that if he let them touch her, or touched her himself, he’d surely burn in hell.
Returning down the hall to the kitchen, she gave Luis the paper, cooked his and Tommie’s eggs with the chorizo, then stood at the sink scrubbing the skillet. Behind her at the table Luis and Tommie ate silently as they read the paper. She thought about when she and her three brothers were children, in Mexico. When Mamacita made breakfast for them and dressed them nice and took them to mass. Thought of them all crowded into the pew, her and Dufio and Hernando and Luis lined up on the bench, and her feet didn’t touch the floor. She was the smallest. They all wore shoes on Sunday. Her brothers had feared the word of God, then. And feared the anger of the priest, too.
But when the boys were bigger they got smart-mouthed and started stealing and didn’t care what the priest said. That was after Mamacita died, and they lived with their aunt and her drunk husband. The boys stopped going to confession. Then they all three went away to make money in Los Estados Unidos and she was left there alone with her aunt and uncle.
She was eleven when Luis came back for her and they crowded into the back of a vegetable truck and crossed the border into California and lived with a third cousin’s family in San Diego, ten to a room. Luis was stealing big and fancy then, and she worried all the time. Then the three boys moved into a room of their own and she cleaned and cooked for them and kept her little suitcase packed like Luis said. She was only twelve, and she did what Luis told her.
But then they were arrested, were all three in jail. She ran, then. Went to work for a Mexican woman who cleaned houses; slept on a pallet in the woman’s kitchen-until Luis got out of jail and found her. After that it was one town after another, living out of his rattley old car, all their life was robberies and leaving town in a hurry, late at night. Not like in Mexico, when the boys had no car and couldn’t get away fast. They weren’t in so much trouble then.
When Luis and Tommie finished breakfast and went to bed because they’d been up all night, she picked up their plates, folded the newspaper, and wiped egg and crumbs from the table. She didn’t want to read any more of that paper.
She made Abuela’s breakfast and went to bring her into the kitchen. While Abuela was eating, Maria returned to her and Abuela’s bedroom and fed the cats, scooping the dry food through the bars into the dirty bowl. She couldn’t clean the sandbox until Luis got up again, with the key, until he stood right over her, making a face and telling her to hurry up.
As she spooned the dry food through the bars, the three cats looked up at her, then at the cage door. They looked like they were asking her to open it; quickly she crossed herself.
“Luis has the key,” she told them; but it scared her even more that she was speaking to them. As if some voodoo spell was on her. The biggest cat’s eyes burned into hers like he understood her, too. As if he wanted to say, “Can’t youtakethe key?Can’tyou let us out?” She grew frightened, indeed, watching him. It did no good to remind herself that they were only cats, only stray cats.
There were stray cats all over Mexico, they hunted rats and mice, and they died. In Mexico, there were always more cats.
It was Hernando who trapped the cats, away in the green hills beyond the village, which she could see from the window. Some of the cats had gotten away, slipped out of the traps. Then Hernando bought different ones. He said those cats knew how to open traps, but no cat could do that. Someone had let them loose.
Hernando believed it, though; he said they weren’t regular cats. He talked real crazy, said they were worth money. But now that Hernando had gone away somewhere, why didn’t Luis turn the cats loose, get rid of them?
She wished, with Hernando gone and Dufio in jail, that Luis would go away, too. She wanted to pray to the Virgin that Luis and his men would all go to jail for the jewel robbery and she and Abuela would be free. But she guessed she would go to hell if she prayed for such a thing. When she looked at the biggest cat, his eyes were so like a person’s that she backed away from him, whispering her Hail Marys.
Binnie�s italian was a small, family-operated cafe that had been a fixture in Molena Point for three generations. The Gianinni family had been a part of the village since the dirt streets of Molena Point were traversed by horse and buggy. In the early days, many Italian families had emigrated from the old country to California’s central coast, to farm and work and open businesses, to become doctors and lawyers and bankers, to settle in and help create the lively economy that now existed.