picked him up and took him to Tucson.”
Teresa spent the rest of the drive to the hospital in prayerful silence. Three years earlier she had made an eerily similar trip. That one had taken her from the rented home she had shared with her first husband, Danny, on Tucson’s far west side to the trauma unit at UMC. That night a uniformed cop from the Tucson PD had knocked on her door to tell her that Danny Sanchez had been shot in a drive-by in South Tucson.
On the way to the hospital that time, she remembered what her mother had tried to tell her about Danny when she first started dating him: that he was bad news. Even though Danny came from a decent family—his father, Oscar, raised quarter horses in the San Rafael Valley—the boy was trouble.
The problem, of course, was that bad boys were always more exciting and interesting than the good ones. In the beginning Teresa had found it easy to ignore all of her mother’s warnings. Besides, she wasn’t worried. Danny promised her that once they had kids, he’d settle down, quit hanging around with his bad-boy buddies, and stop using drugs.
When Lucy was born, Teresa had fully expected those promises would be kept, but they weren’t—none of them. She soon found herself hassling Danny about everything: quitting drugs, ditching his friends, and getting a real job. The more she nagged, the worse things got. When they ran behind on the bills or needed money for groceries, Danny’s mother—far more than his father—was there with a checkbook, ready and willing to bail out her mama’s-boy only son.
Teresa hadn’t wanted to be bailed out. What she’d wanted was for Danny to grow up. She wanted the two of them to have a real life together, functioning as a real family, without always having to be beholden to his parents, especially to Olga. Teresa had already figured out that Olga’s purse strings were iron-clad apron strings.
By the time Lucy turned two, Teresa was pregnant again, and she and Danny were fighting more and more. Finally, she gave him an ultimatum. Either he grow up and get a job, or she was taking Lucy and leaving. She had been screaming at him when he stormed out of the house and drove away.
It was later that night when the cop knocked on her door. Still in a rage, Danny had gone to some of his favorite South Tucson hangouts, where he and his friends had done some serious drinking. Just before closing time, there was an altercation that went from inside a bar to outside. Out in the parking lot, one of the guys from the fight got in his car and drove away. A few minutes later, he came back, driving past where Danny and his friends were gathered. The driver’s window rolled down. Danny was shot at point-blank range without the vehicle ever coming to a stop.
At the time, the car Danny was driving was registered in his mother’s name. The address on his license was Olga Sanchez’s Tucson address. For that reason, Danny’s parents were the first to be notified of the shooting. They had been at the hospital for some time before Olga thought to send someone to let Teresa know what had happened. The cop who had rung her doorbell that night had been kind enough to take Teresa and Lucy to the hospital.
The next three days had been a nightmare. Danny’s grim-faced doctors had made it clear from the beginning that it was unlikely their critically injured patient would survive. Even if he did, the kind of catastrophic brain damage he had suffered would probably leave him permanently paralyzed. While Danny’s father had stayed in the background, Olga had been front and center, weeping hysterically and railing at her daughter-in-law. If only Teresa had been a better wife to Danny, maybe he wouldn’t have been out partying in the middle of the night. As far as Olga was concerned, what had happened had everything to do with Teresa’s behavior and nothing at all to do with her son’s bad choices.
Teresa already had a toddler to care for and was expecting a second baby. The prospect of caring for a helpless and possibly bedridden husband was more than she could take. She was actually relieved when, three nights after he was shot, the lines on Danny’s monitor went flat, announcing to the world that he was gone. Yes, she grieved for him, but more for what she had hoped to have with him rather than what she’d had.
Because Danny had no job, there was no group insurance. In fact, there was no insurance of any kind. Danny’s parents had paid the medical bills, which Teresa suspected were astronomical. They also paid for the funeral at the old Catholic church on South Sixth and Twenty-second, only a few blocks from where Danny had been gunned down. At the hospital, Oscar had told Teresa that she and the girls were welcome to come live on the ranch with them. It was a generous offer, and it meant that Teresa’s girls would have wanted for nothing. Teresa had been considering it right up until the scene at the funeral when Olga lit into Teresa again, proclaiming in public that Danny’s death was all her fault.
For Teresa, that was the final straw. A few weeks later, when the rent came due and she had no money, Teresa didn’t even consider accepting Olga and Oscar’s help. Instead of taking the easy way out, Teresa had rented a U-Haul truck. With the help of Uncle Tomas, her mother’s younger brother, and a couple of cousins, she had moved out of the house and back into her widowed mother’s tiny place in Nogales. Her uncle had helped her get a job as a receptionist for one of the trucking companies headquartered in Nogales. That was where she was working when Jose came back into her life through a friend of his who was a driver for the same company.
Teresa and Jose had known each other slightly in high school, but he had been one of those boring good guys who, at the time, hadn’t gotten a second glance. Jose had known Danny, too. They had played football together, but they hadn’t been pals.
Teresa had been pregnant with Carinda when she started dating Jose shortly after Jose had been hired by the sheriff’s department. They had married days after his graduation from the academy.
The last time Olga communicated with Teresa was the day of Danny’s funeral, but just because she wasn’t talking to Teresa didn’t keep her from talking about her. Word of the rumors made their way back to Teresa. Olga told anyone who would listen that she was sure Teresa and Jose had been an item long before Danny’s death. It hurt Teresa to think that the girls’ grandmother had shut them out of her life—that in order to punish Teresa for something she hadn’t done, Olga had resolutely turned her back on Lucy and Carinda. That was too bad for Olga, and too bad for the girls, but for Teresa, given the choice between having a relationship with her toxic former mother-in-law and having Jose Reyes as her husband, it was no contest.
Now Teresa’s life was about to undergo another sea change. What if Jose died? Then she’d be on her own again, this time with three kids to support instead of two. She had become involved with Jose because he was Danny’s exact opposite. Jose was a good guy. She had known instinctively that he would be a good provider. Yes, she had worried about him being a police officer. She read about police officers dying on the job all the time, but she had also read about officers who retired after thirty-plus years on the job without ever firing a round in the line of duty. When Jose put on his uniform and went to work, she simply closed her mind to the possibility that he might die.
With Jose lying unconscious in the ICU, Teresa forced herself to face facts. If he died, there would probably be some insurance benefits. Jose had put Teresa on the county paperwork as his beneficiary even before they tied the knot. Even so, raising kids was expensive. Teresa knew that she’d probably end up losing the house in Patagonia. It had been Jose’s dream house but not hers, and Teresa alone wouldn’t be able to cover the expenses. She’d have to go back to Nogales to live with her mother again; she’d have to see if she could get her old job back.
“Here we are,” Deputy Carson said.
For the last twenty miles of the trip, Teresa had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t said a word. They had driven all the way across the city without her noticing. They arrived at the hospital at almost three in the morning. Deputy Carson stayed in the car with the two sleeping kids while Teresa walked into the main entrance to get directions.
With Deputy Carson’s help, Teresa eventually managed to get the two girls and all their stuff hauled to the waiting room outside the OR. Three hours later, with the girls waking up and asking nonstop questions, a surgeon emerged from the operating room. “Mrs. Reyes?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Teresa had tried to prepare herself for the bad news. Nodding, she stood up, holding Carinda on her hip while Lucy, suddenly shy, ducked out of sight behind her.
“Yes,” Teresa said, taking the proffered hand.
“I’m Dr. William Lazlo, your husband’s surgeon. The good news is that he’s survived the surgery. He’s being transferred to a recovery room. It’s a miracle that he didn’t bleed to death before he got here. The EMTs did a great job of stabilizing him. We’ve done what we could to repair the damage, but we had to resection his bowel. For right now he’ll have a stoma—you know what that is?”
Teresa swallowed. “You mean like a bag?”
