walked away. Watching her go, Maria shook her head. “Are you kidding?” she demanded of her daughter. “The last time you saw her, she was raising all kinds of hell. Now you’re going to let her off the hook with a half-baked apology? I wouldn’t trust that woman any farther than I can throw her.”
“It’s all right, Mom,” Teresa said. “Olga is the girls’ grandmother, after all. With everything that’s happened in the past few days, I don’t want to fight anymore, not with her and not with anyone else. If she’s willing to be civil, so am I, and if she wants to help, I’ll let her.”
Maria Delgado shook her head. “I don’t see how you can be so forgiving,” she said. “I know I wouldn’t be. I would have told her to take her help and put it where the sun don’t shine.”
Teresa looked at her mother and grinned. “Oh yeah?” she asked. “Isn’t that how you and Dad raised me to be-loving and forgiving?”
“You can take being forgiving too far,” Maria said. “Especially where that woman is concerned.”
“Don’t worry about Olga Sanchez,” Teresa said. “She’s already lost her only son. If she wants to be a part of the girls’ lives, what can it hurt?”
“What if she offers you money?” Maria asked. “If you accept it, before you know it, she’ll be running the show the same way she did when you were married to Danny.”
“But now I’m married to Jose,” Teresa pointed out. “Big difference.”
“I hope so,” Maria Delgado said. “I certainly hope so.”
“And not being at war with the girls’ grandmother should be better for everyone,” Teresa said, “especially for the girls.”
Ali was impressed that Teresa had taken the high road and that she was willing to entertain the possibility of having a less fractious relationship with her former mother-in-law.
“We’d better get back to my room,” Teresa added. “I can tell Carmine needs a new diaper.”
It took two full trips with the wheelchair to get everyone back to the maternity wing, one for Teresa and the baby and another for Maria Delgado.
“We still haven’t solved the problem with the car,” Teresa pointed out.
“How about this for an idea,” Ali said. “I was already planning to drive down to Nogales today to speak to Sheriff Renteria. I could go there by way of Patagonia. Do you have someone who could ride as far as Patagonia with me and then drive your car back?”
“My brother-Teresa’s uncle Tomas-has been driving me back and forth,” Maria suggested. “We could ask him. He might not mind.”
Nodding, Teresa pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll call him and see what he has to say.”
35
10:30 A.M., Monday, April 12
Tucson, Arizona
Showered and dressed but still groggy from lack of sleep, Sister Anselm hurried out to her Mini and sped back to the hospital. She appreciated Al Gutierrez’s early warning that Rose Ventana’s family was headed to Tucson. Sister Anselm wasn’t at all certain what she should do about it. After all, in their one-sided conversation, the girl had made it painfully clear that, for reasons unknown, she had no desire to be reunited with her family. Now, ready or not, that unwanted reunion was imminent.
Puzzling over Al Gutierrez’s phone call, Sister Anselm remembered something else he had said-that he had been given the news about Rose’s family by a homicide detective of some kind. What did that mean? Who was dead? Sister Anselm was tempted to call him back and ask, but she didn’t. Instead, she rushed into the ICU and was grateful to see that the waiting room was relatively deserted.
The monitors indicated that Rose Ventana was sleeping peacefully. After the difficult night they’d had, Sister Anselm hated to awaken her, but she did.
“Rose,” she said. “Rose. You need to wake up. I need to talk to you.”
The girl’s eyes blinked open briefly and then closed again.
“I understand that your parents are coming to see you. I’m not sure how they heard you were even alive, to say nothing of here, but they did. They’re driving down from Phoenix. When they get here, do you want to see them?”
With her jaw wired shut, speaking was difficult. Rather than make the effort, Rose shook her head vigorously, even though it clearly pained her.
“I’m sure they love you,” Sister Anselm said. “You’ve been gone for three years. They’ve probably missed you terribly. I’ll abide by your wishes, of course. If you’re adamant about not seeing them, I’ll tell them that your condition precludes visitors. But you must understand. After all these years of believing the worst and thinking you were dead, they’re probably overjoyed to find you’re alive. Are you sure you don’t want to see them?”
Rose shook her head again.
“Why?” Sister Anselm said. “Is it because of what you’ve done between then and now? Is it because you’re ashamed?”
The question was followed by a long wait. Sister Anselm let it hang there in the room. Finally, Rose nodded- the tiniest of nods.
Sister Anselm took Rose’s hand again, holding it carefully so as not to disturb the scabs that had started forming on the cuts and burn marks.
“It couldn’t have been easy to make it on your own once you left home. You were what, fourteen?”
Rose nodded.
“At that age, job opportunities are limited. I’m guessing you turned to prostitution. Is that how you survived?”
Another nod.
“There’s a lot of that in the world,” Sister Anselm said. “That’s what happened to my sister after our parents died. It was after the end of World War Two. Rebecca and I were taken in by the nuns in a convent in France. Becka ran away and lived on the streets. She was only seventeen when she died, but do you know what would have happened if she had come home?”
A headshake-a small one.
“I would have forgiven her for leaving and welcomed her home. The nuns would have done the same thing. Your family will welcome you, too. They’re going to be so thrilled just to see you alive that nothing else will matter. I’m hoping you’ll give them a chance.”
Rose Ventana shook her head. Her answer was still no.
“All right,” Sister Anselm said. “You might change your mind. You go back to sleep now. When they get here, I’ll come let you know.”
Sister Anselm went out and closed the door behind her. She moved a chair next to the entrance so she was partially blocking the way into the room. Al Gutierrez’s pot of Easter lilies, returned from its banishment to the reception desk, sat on a table beside her. Despite her assurances to Rose, Sister Anselm wasn’t at all sure the family would welcome back their wayward daughter. The parable of the prodigal son was just that, and when the stray was welcomed home with joy and feasting, the son who hadn’t run away wasn’t exactly a happy camper. Even if it turned out that Rose’s parents were thrilled to have their daughter back, there was no way to tell how their other daughters, Rose’s two younger sisters, would react.
The other thing Sister Anselm worried about was the media. The family had made every effort to keep their daughter’s disappearance in the public eye. What if they did the same thing with her return? Considering Rose’s opinion about being reunited with her loved ones, having it happen in front of cameras would make a bad situation that much worse.
The entire Fox family-James and Connie and Rose’s younger sisters-burst into the ICU waiting room half an hour later. Recognizing them from photos on the websites she had accessed and grateful that there was no accompanying media, the nun hurried to meet them. “I’m Sister Anselm, your daughter’s patient advocate. You’re Mr. and Mrs. Fox?”
