Looking past him to Selah, Grace shook her head.
“My wife has been living a dream. She’s awake now.” Sorrow etched his kind face. “You have a good job and a beautiful place to raise your son.” When he held out his arms, Grace went into them.
Grace thought better of telling him she had no job or home and no idea what she was going to do in the days ahead.
Grace had left all of Samuel’s things at the cottage, and taken nothing from the Garcias. She stopped at a Walmart and picked up what she needed for a couple of nights before going back to Shanice’s. While Samuel slept, Grace composed a letter of resignation and apology to Roman. She told him she fully understood as per their rental agreement she would have to forfeit the security deposit and last month’s rent she’d paid.
When Shanice got up the next morning, Grace held up the envelope. “My letter of resignation and the key to his house. I’ll drop it off when I go back and get Samuel’s things and a few more of my own.”
“Nothing doing, girlfriend.” Shanice plucked the envelope from her hand. “You’re too vulnerable. I’ll take care of it.”
Grace wanted to argue, but Shanice was right.
“Call the church, honey. See if any of the men who help people move are available this weekend.”
Samuel secure in his car seat, Grace drove to a public storage facility and rented a unit large enough to store her furniture until she had a place to live. The church administrator called back in the afternoon. Four men had volunteered for work Saturday morning.
Shanice returned with everything Grace needed: playpen, baby clothes, baby food, diapers, and toys. The crib would have to be taken apart and packed, but Grace loved having her son snuggled against her at night.
“I gave Velasco the letter and told him everything would be cleared out this weekend.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He took the letter, heard me out, and closed the door.”
Hot tears filled Grace’s eyes. “Well, I guess that’s that.”
Shanice sighed. “You don’t have to go, Grace. We can take care of everything.”
“I’ll go early and do the packing.”
“I can go with you.”
“I’ll be all right.” She gave Shanice a weak smile. “I’m not the naive girl I was.”
Shanice looked dubious, but didn’t argue. “I’d offer to keep Samuel, but I think you’re safer if he’s with you.”
Grace understood all too well.
Early Saturday morning, she headed to Topanga Canyon with boxes and tape. She alternated between fear and hope she’d see Roman. When she unlocked the cottage and walked in, she found a large manila envelope that had been slid under the door. She stepped around it and put Samuel on the living room rug with toys from her tote bag. Inside the envelope was the rental agreement, Canceled written in dark, bold letters across the front page, a check reimbursing her security deposit and last month’s rent paper-clipped to it. In a white legal envelope, she found another check for two months’ salary, and a formal letter of recommendation. Efficient . . . personable . . . trustworthy . . . quick learner . . . hard worker . . .
Heartsick, Grace sat at the table, the papers in her lap. Clearly, Roman agreed all ties needed to be severed. She just hadn’t expected to feel so shattered. Covering her face, she wept.
Oh, God, why did You bring me here? Why did I ever meet Roman Velasco if all he’d do is turn my life upside down and inside out? Help me understand!
Samuel grabbed hold of her jeans and cried. Wiping tears away, Grace lifted him and held him close. This was no time for a pity party. She needed to remember the good things that had come out of her relationship with Roman. They’d had a wonderful four days together on the road. He hadn’t died in Santa Clarita. He’d met Jesus. She couldn’t allow herself to sink into an abyss of regrets again and play the if only and what-if games. She thought of Selah and her dreams. Now, she had to put down her own.
Setting Samuel on the rug, Grace put everything back in the manila envelope, folded it carefully, and tucked it into the tote. Time to pack and move on.
After reading Grace’s carefully worded letter of resignation, Roman knew whatever chance he had with her was over. He watched her arrive early Saturday morning. His heart squeezed tight when she appeared on the path, Samuel riding on her hip, and several flattened boxes tucked under her arm. She didn’t look up. When she disappeared inside the cottage, Roman moved away from the windows. He tried to concentrate on the painting. Giving up, he went back to the windows. Two men carried a sofa out of the house. Two more toted a mattress. Grace didn’t have much, so the work was done and everyone was gone before noon.
Roman stood at the easel for the rest of the day. The landscape Grace had started with a single line was coming together. Every time he looked at it, he saw Grace. That had been the point, hadn’t it? He’d intended to show her, see if she noticed what he was hiding in the scene.
The phone rang. Roman answered without looking at the ID, hoping against all odds it was Grace. Maybe they could talk, work things out. Unfortunately, it was Hector. His compadre had learned enough English to be understood, and wanted Roman to see the mural he’d just finished at a Mexican restaurant on Olvera Street. Roman needed to get out of the house and said sure, he had time, plenty of time. He headed downtown.
As soon as Roman walked in the door, Hector called out and wove his way through the tables packed with patrons, a wide grin on his brown face. “Amigo!” He waved his arm toward the wall. “What do you think?”
Roman liked the vibrant colors, the mountains in the background, Mexican workers toiling in fields, a beautiful Latina carrying a basket of white lilies, children in colorful costumes dancing in a circle. He nodded. “Buen trabajo, amigo.”
Hector laughed. “You speak Spanish!”
Roman forced a smile. “You just heard the extent of my vocabulary.” Other than gracias and a string of curses best forgotten. A plump redhead made her way toward them. Roman recognized her from the picture Hector had shared in San Diego. “Your girlfriend?”
“Mi esposa. Two weeks ago. Vegas. No questions asked.” Hector put a possessive arm around her as she looked at him with adoring eyes. “Tracy, meet Roman Velasco, el patrón.”
“A pleasure.” Roman shook her hand.
“Hector has talked a lot about you.”
Roman winced. “I’m not an easy boss.”
Hector wasn’t finished dispensing news. “We’re expecting a bebé.” He looked proud and happy. Feeling an odd pang of envy, Roman congratulated them.
“Come.” Hector waved him over to a vacant table. “Dinner is on me.”
The guacamole and chips were fresh and delicious, the salsa hot enough to make Roman’s eyes water. For a small girl, Tracy had a big appetite. Hector chuckled and said she was eating enough for twins. Roman ordered a combination plate of chiles rellenos, enchiladas, refried beans, and rice. Hector talked about the importance of family and friends. Other mural projects had come his way. He’d be able to support a family now, but assured Roman he never forgot un amigo. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”
Roman told him the mural in San Diego had been his last. “I’m working on canvas now.” The landscape would keep him occupied for a while. What then? And when he finished it, would he sell it? Doubtful.
The waitress cleared plates and brought back coffee and flan.
“Bring Grace next time you come down. She’ll want to see the wall.”
“Grace quit.”
Hector’s brows shot up. “You let her?”
“Wasn’t my call.”
“But you still see her. Yes? She lives right next door.”
“She moved out. This morning, as a matter of fact.”
Hector looked angry. “Eres estúpido o no más obstinado?”
Tracy blushed. “Hector said—”
Roman held up his hand. “I think I got it.” Was he stupid or just obstinate? Why not be honest? “Let’s just say I took a shot, and she dodged the bullet.”
“You just give up?”